#because for all he CAN handle... he cannot handle taking their life

[korilakkumauowo]

﹒ ⁺ 𖧧 𝑆acrificial 𝑙amb

❰❰ 💬 being held hostage, established relationship. @ 𝑋 — unspecified civilian/vigilante gn! reader, established relationship, mild mentions of kidnapping, not proofread, no beta only alphas. No Bruce (who even dares) & + Duke's part is here. @ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 — 2k+

— richard dick g. He takes it into consideration that despite being under Batman’s roof, he refuses to live behind Bruce’s shadow. He is relentless; following through the glimpses of the suspect, he is talking through the comms and—with his influence—he directs the others into orders. Oracle sends him intels, he wastes no time and gathers them.He controls the streets steadfastly, a keen eye out on the run and passing through buildings to another.

He can’t help but put the blame to himself, the panic in him weighs over the love he holds for you. He goes through with the dilemma—holding onto the hope. He is quick to snap back into focus, he can’t afford to let dread trample over him; he still has yet to find you. He uses his sense of sentiment into a command of strength—because that is what makes him formidable and powerful; his emotions are significant in his vitality. You give him the courage and fortitude. You always do.

Even from a vigilante himself, he had learned stuff out with whatever life could throw at him—shouldering the emotional burden for now is the least he can do. He thinks of possibilities, of outcomes, and of what-if’s, but even then, his mind cannot rest until you are back in his arms.

He doesn’t cross lines like Jason may do, but he can be pressed through the edge of mercy when time runs out. He takes things steadfastly, efficiently, and his sense of morals are out of the window the moment anything happens to you—if harm is to be done, then by then God forbid what may be coming for the opposer.

He lands quick on his feet and immediately ambushes the men—because that is just how he can be in the moment. Quick, agile, and swift, desperate to have you back—there is no forewarning, no message. The very moment they had taken you at will would have already been their caution of what’s to come; that it would be the last risk they can take.

Just as quick as he took them down altogether, he was right by your side the instant. He kisses you fervently as he sets you free, hands finding yours and he holds you close—pouring out his regrets and sorrys, and he is kissing you like he is handling a tender heart of his.

“I’m right here,” He hushed, “I’m sorry—So sorry—I’m never letting you out my sight.” He leans down, tenderly layering pecks after kisses on your cheek, and greedily breathes you in.

He might withdraw himself, out of pure regrets for getting you into such trouble, but with a bit of your love, give him the consciousness to keep himself grounded with you all over again; He was versatile in every sense of way—he’s even more versatile with every sense of love you can give to him, with every new way you can show to him or with every usual habit that’s convenient to him, he can’t get enough and he wants everything you can give.

You have nothing to worry about whether the heavyweight of the love he carries starts to feel like an obligation—because he can gladly be responsible for it.

— jason peter t. He had always known survival the moment he was found; Bruce saw potential, the fierceness in the heart that he had always known to be refined. Jason in all his life is not a polished warrior from the start, he was scathed out in the open and learned to close them off for no one to see. He had his moments where his heart was on his sleeves, happy and carefree, despite it all, he still had known and saw the treacherous sides of life.

He had learned a lot throughout every high and the low, and he knows every consequence coming will always be a lesson; he has seen himself in the highgrounds, close to the fall.

He knows what happens when you lose somebody, it is an impending doom that he retaliates to every single time—because he’s not letting that happen, he’s not letting that get close to you. He had cheated death before—came to life with a new profound purpose for himself, and he hadn’t known it was coming when he found out there was another depth in his heart that was only for you to fall into.

In the depths of it, there is anxiety beneath the fury—his heart feels like it’s weighing him down and they are calling out for you in each and every beat, it is trembling despite the muscles in him holding himself up.

To see the love of his life before him as a pawn in somebody else’s hands is enough for his lethal hands to immediately fist into one of a guarded stance; he is not letting that happen. He is guilt-ridden, but the natural air of storm in him is uncontrollable; it always has been. He goes straight to dig up intel, clues, any possible connections that could lead to you. He does it by himself—he doesn’t trust the system, he doesn’t wait for backup, and he is willing to clear the entire corners of Gotham to find you. When someone slows him down—he drops them.

He’s just above breaking a few flesh and bones every now then for you, he’ll do countless methods that may vary; He’ll hang them over a 3ft building balcony, let them think he’ll shoot straight at the heart—“This bullet isn’t for the wall.” But he’s not killing outright unless he has every right to—though he might just be close to the trigger when harm comes to you—the focus here is to get you to him as soon as possible. Paranoia overcomes him and it ticks his trigger off, one wrong move from them might just be a close call for death.

He considers every second closer to the call, he does not waste time.

He is as quick as a speeding bullet when he drives through the secluded alleyways of Gotham’s streets with his bike, swift and going past through the limits. He does not waste time. He uses the environment to his defenses like a weapon itself, he corners the men face-to-face.

It’s not a minute or two before they’re all laying heavy on the blooded ground, and his berated fist relaxes as he finally gets ahold of you. Breathy, eyes scrutinizing you with attentiveness as he holds you so close. “Fuck, ‘m sorry, doll.”—he unbinds you himself with such gentleness that you never would’ve believed he had been the one to knock out a gang of men with such cruelty and lack of mercy. But you do, you have seen it with your own eyes, and you are not afraid—because you know he had done that all for the sake of you. The scars in his skin don’t compare to the scar in his heart of the thought of ever losing you.

And he is right there again by your side, ready to protect you just all over again. He is guilt-ridden and apologies slip out every now and then no matter how many times you reassure him, and he clings onto you the whole night now that you’re back.

— timothy tim d. He’s the first to notice your unusual silence.

He may not always be all up on your face like usually, but he is constantly checking in on you every second—and it really never fails to keep him back on track when he feels relieved and assured. He is lithe in his suit, immediately going through the Batcave.

He doesn't ever let his mind rest, and this just accumulated more-so of that very fact. He can’t risk it. He has you to keep, needing you in every sense of way. Because Tim, even from his perspective as a busy man—a teenage CEO-to-be, a prodigy genius, the vigilante Red Robin, with the media throwing questions at him—you bring out the inner sense of his sense of belonging. With you, there is no other way but to feel the spontaneous feeling of sentimental young love; with you he is free, with you he is utterly himself.

No caffeine, or the fizzy can drinks, or the trickery puzzle that stimulates his mind is likely to make him feel this close to the dopamine-boosting feel of love, that’s what everyone else says.

And he can’t afford to lose that—the rational fear in him is ticking and it just further stirs his thoughts further into a rollercoaster of possibilities. His heart nearly drops and the world just narrows into white noise in his point of view, there is nothing worth more than to get you back in each other’s embrace; securing your place of where you are both meant to be.

He searches through all the networks Gotham can give—in every camera feeds in the streets, traffic cams, facial-rec software, and the security grids—he is giving off terse instructions to Oracle and Nightwing, there are holograms on the screen infront of him and he scrutinizes each one. Despite the weight in his heart, his pursuit remains steady.

He studies the captors, he lets them think they can have a second long in what they’re doing. He’s already predicting their motives and moves. And he’s already out in the open of the night, knowing where you are. He follows through what the mind tells him—remembering every detail—and it’s not for long to see and catch a glimpse of you.

His body goes rigid and the ferocious turbulence that he’d been trying to keep strained in is immediately out the bat, he is mentally and already physically prompt and set on autopilot as he’s straight away throwing himself at the Captor and he counter attacks—but his mind is well intact, he knows what he's doing, he knows where and when to throw the punch at the suited fit, the efficiency of his strikes are far more brutal than the usual; And he’s thinking of how many more hits he can land, it’ll take up for how many minutes they held you at will.

⸻

“I’m here—it’s okay, it’s okay.” He takes your side into consideration—you must’ve been frightened. He is soothing you with the beat of his heart, a hand holding onto the back of your head as he clasps you whole. He is still rigid, the relief is there to sober him but the rational fear will be taunting him.

And when you are calm, he looks down at you with such fondness, and leans to kiss you like there is no other will to live in him left—like you are the very reason his heart still beats and his muscles still stand to keep him up.

— damian w. His temper had already been one to not tamper with, but he had always been trying to keep it under control, lately, for you. He’s not a violent dog like everyone else can perceive him to be, he is just alert, guarded and heedful, a sense of cautiousness in his subconscious self, a boy who had to crawl his way out of the horrors of death that he did not want to be apart of—blinded by the strict honor of discipline.

Though his title—as The Robin, Batman’s blood son, along with the Demon head’s inheritance—is enough to be a warning in anyone’s blind eye; His title and deeds does not define him completely. He is Damian Wayne, he who learned love through his vulnerabilities—through his new profound family. In his best, through you.

Who is undoubtedly dense enough to go after his beloved? Certainly someone who completely has no sense of security for themself.

He’s quick on his feet the moment he hears of your disappearance, there is no word said. He is suddenly out of the Batcave and looming over the dark, and abandoned warehouse—as if it didn’t look any more suspicious enough—there are men outside guarding the gates and he is seething as he looks down upon them.

Suddenly, they didn’t look human to him. They weren’t lives in his eyes. They were just numbers, a bunch of numbers that he can subtract out of the scale—because now they weren’t important, now he felt like honoring the Al Ghul in his blood—the long way of dignity is relished away.

It’s not long before he lunges past each and every embodiment of a man’s body, there are no flesh and bones that he distinguishes as anything but worthless of one’s womb. They can fight for survival if they wish, but they cannot outlive a massacre out of a wounded soldier’s undignified wrath. He sees nothing but red, blood on his hands and the color of ire indignation, and every weapon of sorts is thrown at everything at once.

Batman stands away and heads past the gates, and he knows it is better not to hold him back in a state like this.

As a kid, Damian had been trained ruthlessly—with the tendency for emotional suppression paired along with mental conditioning—finally being able to feel the love that anybody deserves and learning to live with it, can get you in troubled situations that may defy logical rules when you are desperate to keep it; Damian is no better, and Bruce knows that. He lets him, he still has a lot to learn.

The long silence inside is eerie, and you grunt in frustration—strapped to a cranky chair that you no doubt is about to collapse a second longer—You do not fret. Damian always finds you.

It’s not long before the commotion right outside is to be heard, and you could almost trample over yourself out of pure relief. 

⸻

You stand infront of him, hands free and mouth curved into a smile. “Hayati, I’m here. They are gone.” He whispered, quiet and hushed in the night as he held you closely and firmly. You are back in his arms again. He lets himself relax, breathing in your scent.

With a dose of your love, it sets his heart for more. In exchange, with droplets of red that runs down his leather gloves—the intensity of his fury burns his skin and his suit is suddenly all too impermeable and infuriatingly humid, and the massacre is awaiting outside, yet you calm it all with a graze of your touch to his cheek.

if u guys read tpw did you guys catch the TPW fang runin reference i sneaked in hehe plz say yes.. REQUESTS OPEN pleasseee request i BEG best regards all rights reserved. ©𝐤𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐤𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐮𝐨𝐰𝐨

[matchbet-allofthetime]

Sobbing in bed because I'm writing a Ulysses fic and I'm caught between him killing the Courier because they are willfully giving up all the people they love and all the good they've done in the Mojave and he wanted them dead and gone-

And him just telling them they don't belong in the Divide with him. Not them, not their soft heart.

"You need to go home," Ulysses would say.

The courier would just laugh.

"Go home, Courier," they mumble. "Your signs. I have them all marked on my Pip-Boy. I don't even know why, but I mark all of the ones I find."

They traverse the Divide KNOWING Ulysses will kill them.

They take off their armour and keep only their finest, best combat knife and a gun on them with enough ammo to get them to Ulysses and to give him a third bullet to put in their skull alongside the two from Benny.

They offer him their knife, their gun, and the option for him to kill them with his bare hands.

Willingly. Selflessly. Painfully.

"I could never hate you, Ulysses. Not for this, never for this. I will never be mad at you for this."

And he's caught.

They're a godsend to this place, so much good they've done.

Does he kill them? Or does he bridge the Divide?

Maybe they go home. Maybe he kills them.

And maybe, after everyone back home knows they're okay... Maybe they do belong here, in the Divide, with Ulysses.

[gothamundernightlight]

I know we as a fandom don’t talk enough about the Batkids acknowledging how old Bruce is getting, but something I think we talk about EVEN LESS is the Batkids acknowledging Dick getting older.

Like Dick is pushing 30 in canon at this point, and realistically cannot do the same things he was doing as a kid. There is a reason a lot of athletes retire young, and Dick’s life has been brutal on his body, so eventually it’ll catch up with him.

Imagine if you will some random new JL/Titans recruit meeting Nightwing and asking “Is it true you can do a quadruple somersault?”

And Dick has to wince and say “I used to, but not anymore.”

Imagine the Batkids hearing that? Imagine everyone who saw him grow up hearing Dick acknowledge he is getting older and can’t do the same things he did in his youth. Imagine how they feel about their own age. Imagine the grief Dick must feel at knowing he’s losing the gifts his parents bestowed upon him, and the fact he’s out-aged them both.

Imagine Bruce painfully acknowledge (in his head because it’s illegal for him to emote aloud) that not only is he getting older, but his first child, his SON, is now the same age he was when Bruce took Dick in.

Imagine Dick picking the smaller option out on ice cream trips because his body can’t handle sugar the way it used to, or eating less in general because his metabolism has slowed down.

Imagine the Batkids sparring and Dick has to tap out because he can’t keep up with them all for as long anymore. Like he can’t keep still do a lot, and handle himself in a fight, but he is not showing off with flips the same way he used to.

Imagine the day one of the Batkids spots gray hair on Dick’s head, or realize that the lines on his face are just a little deeper than they used to be?

Babs keeps calling him the Boy Wonder as a private joke, but the boyish charm that Dick once had has since faded. He’s a grown man, and while at heart he still is the kid that brought light back to Gotham, his outside reflects the life they’ve lived and shared together, which didn’t just pass by in the blink of an eye.

And Jason pretends he doesn’t care, but realizes that Dick isn’t the same 16-year old kid that Bruce put on a pedestal. That he, out of all their siblings, saw Dick the most when he was in his prime, and that his older brother is just a little more fragile than he used to be.

And Tim thinks back to the days of him stalking Batman and Robin before, pulling out those old photos and realizing just how much Dick has aged. When did that happen, he wonders, and how much more will Dick change as he gets older?

Cass, Steph, and Duke acknowledge that Dick Grayson grew up, and left behind a legacy for them to fill, but they’ll always wonder what he was like when he was younger, and wonder how much longer he’ll be around. Bruce has been doing this vigilante schtick for 20+ years, but will Dick still be doing this when he’s Bruce’s age?

Damian takes it the hardest. He can’t look at Dick without thinking of him as the same Grayson who was his Batman, but the truth is, he’s not the same. His old portraits of Dick bear witness to that, with each one just a little different because time is not frozen to Dick the way it is with Ra’s and Talia. Damian privately grieves everyone he comes to care about in advance because death has surrounded him his whole life and eventually despite Dick’s promises that he’ll always be there for Damian, a day is coming when that promise will be broken.

But yeah. Older Dick Grayson. I have thoughts on this.

(Anyways don’t mind me. Just coming to terms with being the same age canonically as my childhood hero.)

[dollishmehrayan]

BATBOYS TOXIC TRAITS / RED FLAGS + GREEN FLAGS ── .✦

a/n: the thing is, they all aren’t like problematic when it comes to relationships but they do have some things and flaws which when heard sound “oh okay that’s fine” but may be like super annoying in a irl relationship also this was a request by anon (here)! (Tags: batboys x reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Chronic People-Pleaser: Will prioritize everyone’s needs over his own (or yours), leading to burnout… and you having to remind him you exist.

Flirty by Nature: He’s not trying to flirt… it just happens. That waitress? Nope, not on purpose, but yeah, you’ll roll your eyes a lot.

Hero Complex: He always has to “save” people, including you, even when you’re perfectly fine handling it yourself. “I got it, babe.” No, you don’t, Dick.

GREEN FLAGS:

Emotionally Intelligent: He can read your mood like a book and knows exactly how to make you smile (with pancakes shaped like hearts).

Physical Affection Expert: Hugs, cuddles, forehead kisses—you’re basically his personal teddy bear.

Supportive King: He’s your biggest cheerleader, hyping you up in the most genuine, heartfelt ways. “That’s my girl.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Anger Issues: He’ll throw hands for you at the slightest provocation. Guy looks at you wrong? Jason’s already removing his jacket.

Emotionally Guarded: Good luck getting him to open up. He’s more likely to tell you his deepest fears after you’ve fallen asleep.

Reckless Behavior: He’ll drag you into the most insane situations and act like it’s no big deal. “What do you mean this is dangerous? It’s fine.”

GREEN FLAGS:

Loyal to a Fault: He’ll defend you with his life, no questions asked. “You mess with her, you mess with me.”

Soft Romantic: Beneath the tough exterior, he’s writing you sweet notes and remembering the little things, like how you take your coffee.

Protective (in a good way): He won’t smother you, but he’ll make sure you always feel safe, even if it’s just crossing the street.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Workaholic: He’ll forget to eat, sleep, and sometimes text you back because “the case was just getting good!”

Overthinks Everything: Spends hours analyzing your last text to figure out if you were mad or just tired. “Was that period passive-aggressive?”

Terrible Self-Care: You’ll have to force him to drink water and go to bed like a mom with a rebellious child.

GREEN FLAGS:

Incredibly Thoughtful: He remembers every detail about you, from your favorite flower to that obscure hobby you mentioned once.

Adorably Awkward: His shy smiles and fumbling over words when you flirt back are endlessly endearing.

Problem Solver: He’ll find solutions to all your problems, from fixing your computer to making your bad day better with tea and soft music.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Insanely Jealous: He glares daggers at anyone who looks at you too long. “Why is he breathing near you?”

Judgmental: He might critique your taste in music, books, or anything else with his usual bluntness. “This… is what you listen to?”

Control Freak: He likes things done a certain way and will try to “help” you by micromanaging your life.

GREEN FLAGS:

Devoted Partner: Once he’s in, he’s all in. You’ll never doubt his commitment because he’s always showing up for you.

Loyal Beyond Measure: He’ll defend your honor to anyone, even Bruce. “She’s perfect, Father. You simply lack taste.”

Surprisingly Gentle: Despite his tough exterior, he has a soft side that only you get to see, like the way he pets animals—or you—so tenderly.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Emotionally Repressed: He’s basically a human brick wall when it comes to expressing his feelings. “I’m… fine.” No, Bruce, you’re not.

Work Comes First: He’ll disappear into the Batcave for days unless you drag him out by the cape which becomes quickly annoying.

Overprotective: He’ll want to track your every move, not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he worries too much. “It’s for your safety.”

GREEN FLAGS:

Quietly Romantic: He may not be overly expressive, but he’ll show love through subtle gestures—like a bouquet of your favorite flowers left on the table.

Ultimate Provider: He makes sure you never want for anything, whether it’s emotional support or physical comfort.

Unshakable Devotion: Once you’ve captured his heart, he’s yours forever. There’s no halfway with Bruce—he’s in it for the long haul.

[secriden]

#Fadel not answering right away when Style asked if he knows where his brother is#tells me he knows exactly where Bison must have taken Kant to (= his parents' house in the island‚ the place he had suggested they ran to)#but is in no hurry to get there#because now reaching his destination also means reaching the end of his and Style's journey - tags by @braceletofteeth

Hey, if Bison can diverge from the plan and kidnap his traitorous boyfriend for himself for an indeterminate period of time instead of killing him like they agreed upon, so can Fadel, ok?

They are in judgement free zones for as long as it takes for Fadel to find him and they are forced to admit to each other the embarrasing truth—that neither of them wants to get through with this.

[creati-bunny]

YOU TOOK THE THUNDER SPEAR FOR LEVI ACKERMAN; he observes your bandaged state on the ground. The image of a copious amount of blood gushing out of your stomach was enough to make him feel like puking his guts out; the lifeless eyes you had will forever haunt his nightmares. It was a very, very horrible mistake to have you by his side; he was right to believe that everyone he gets attached to will eventually leave him. Stupid, stupid of you—him to let you take care of Zeke.

You were barely breathing, and it fucking terrifies him.

Even within the premises of his squad and his enemies, his eyes could only focus on you. Even when Jean attacks Reiner, confronting him about Marco’s situation—even when Mikasa is this close to killing Annie, why does it matter anymore?

Even his squad got turned into those sick, mindless titans he will forever despise; all because of a wine, and he was naive to think that Zeke is under his control. The ignorance of people will never not put them in danger; they were lacking information, and Levi knew that Zeke is a cunning piece of shit.

He will kill Zeke. He promised Erwin, and he promises you.

Levi’s dull gray eyes are only compromised by regret, misery, and sorrow. His right hand is enclosed in yours; your right eye will forever be gone, and two of your fingers have perished in the explosion—he is convinced that you are unable to regain your skills again.

He does not want you fighting anymore. Levi has enough with losing someone, especially since the fight is not yet over. A shaky breath of relief leaves him, seeing your left eye trying to flutter open; pain is all you feel, not being able to move a single muscle in your body.

You tried to talk, but Levi shushed you. His eyes are glazed with guilt—Zeke escaped, and you almost died.

“A-Are you okay, Levi?” You force yourself to croak out your voice, brittle and hoarse; he was lucky to understand enough. You cannot lift a finger without feeling excruciating pain in your limbs. “Were you hurt?”

Levi hates your selflessness.

“Was I hurt? Have you taken a good look at yourself after you were trying to be a hero, huh?” Levi seethed, glaring daggers at you; you cannot help but feel bad, sensing the crack in his voice. “Who told you to fucking save me? I can handle him myself!”

You were silent, letting him voice out his frustrations because of your recklessness. You realized yourself that you are only looking at him with your left eye—the other was gone, forever. You did not care and even thought it was the right thing to do; Levi thinks otherwise.

You cursed your body for not being able to speak properly, wanting to prove your point. Levi does not waste time in berating you; endless curses and insults spout out of his mouth. “I should never have let you be on patrol with me,” he exclaimed with pain in his voice, blurring out the voices in the background.

Levi’s lips almost tremble. He felt his body weakening when he stared into your eyes, still filled with resolve to risk your life for someone. It will never go away, you remind him repeatedly—the love you have for him.

You utter with no hints of fatigue, “I will do it again if it means saving the love of my life.”

You are reckless, stupidly reckless.

“You do realize that this shit you pulled can be in vain if I were to just bite the dust later on?” Levi glowered at you, pinpointing the reality of the situation. “You are not a weapon or a bag of meat to use for my safety; you are weak, stupid, reckless and oversentimental.”

He wonders why the hell he fell for you and your antics. Levi glowered at you, making you shut your mouth when you saw his angered eyes. “Forget it, die for all I care.” He proclaimed without any bite in his voice, knowing he did not really mean it.

“My, such comforting words,” you muttered breathily in sarcasm. You forced yourself to sit up, wincing and groaning when the pain hit your stomach. “Usually, people say ‘thank you’ for doing a good deed for them.”

Levi will surely kick your ass really good one day.

“Can the man I love give me a kiss?”

He wants to fucking beat your ass for acting so unserious while he pours his heart out. You were giggling—quite painfully at that. Levi thinks your mind was hit too hard that it makes you react inappropriately whenever you converse with someone. “You got some fucking nerve to be laughing right now.”

Levi’s words died in his throat as he saw your gesture for him to sit beside you. You were already listening to Hange’s strategy, while laying your head down on his shoulder. He still wanted to argue; he really did. Unfortunately, your smile stopped him.

He is not a big fan of displaying affections publicly, yet of course, he is not a heartless monster to not give in to your needs, even though you are irritating as hell; warm lips pressed against yours, a bit too hard that it made you wince at the pressure—enough to almost open your wound at his pettiness. You look at him like someone ruffled your feathers before he proceeds to watch the scenario in front of you two.

Serves you right for being an idiot.

A minor feeling of regret seeps inside you, knowing that without you, he may not express this adorable side of him anymore. That when you die, you might not live up to the day you marry him.

Maybe you are stupid after all.

reblog if you like it :) || image is by Sabertoon.art

[eightmakesonebraincell]

ateez as royals who fall for you (hyung line)

read maknae line here

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

length: 12.8k

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

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

hongjoong

pov: you're the king's royal courtesan

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

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

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

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

“i don’t,” he simply says

and it’s true

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

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

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

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

the main thing that makes him so desirable and unreachable?

he never sees the same courtesan more than once

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

you smirk when he curses and throws his head back

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

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

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

you are a courtesan for people of nobility and royal status

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

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

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

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

whether the rumours about his stamina will be true

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

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

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

lady shin is not amused to say the least

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

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

(lady chae is initially jealous, understandably)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“as if. fuck off”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he raises an eyebrow

oh yeah?

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

now that shuts you up

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

and another request turns into another

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

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

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

he rifles through your bag of materials that you bring

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“were you even paying attention?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hongjoong taught me how to write my name today”

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

she laughs then asks to have a look

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

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

“what does it mean?” you hurry to clarify

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

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

“it says, my flower”

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

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

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

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

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

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

my flower

you hesitate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“are you jealous right now, kim hongjoong?”

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

“no i’m not!”

“whatever you say,” you smirk

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“do you trust me?” he whispers

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

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

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

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

you have to remind yourself to keep breathing

“you can look now,” he tells you

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

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

and you gasp

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

“try it on,” he encourages

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

it’s patchy

it’s uneven

it has empty areas

but it is no doubt embroidery

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

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

“is that why you disappeared for two weeks?”

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

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

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

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

he looks at you impossibly soft

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

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

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

so you dare to bring his fingers into your mouth

you suck on them a little harder

a little deeper

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

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

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

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

he doesn’t need further encouragement

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your mouth drops in disbelief

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

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

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

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

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

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

“very good plan,” you grind up against him

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

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

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

seonghwa

pov: you're his royal guard

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

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

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

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

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

seonghwa seems to think otherwise, though

unsurprising but still grating

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

albeit reluctantly, you force yourself to move to his left

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

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

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

“of course,” seonghwa offers with a kind smile

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

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

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

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

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

so you strike in his stead

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“no, but i am your royal bodyguard”

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

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

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

it has been almost four years since it happened

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’ll be your sword,” you pledge

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

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

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

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

neither of you bring it up again, but seonghwa knows

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

you rub your hand up and down his sturdy back soothingly

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

as if they are-

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

okay

most definitely proudly 

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

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

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

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

that is more than enough for him, though

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

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

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

you wonder if his lips will taste the same…

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

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

how could the two palettes ever blend together harmoniously?

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

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

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

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

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

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

in love with you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i-”

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

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

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

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

seonghwa swallows

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

your throat tightens at his words

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

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

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

“but…why?” your heart races with anticipation

“because i’m in love with you” 

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

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

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

you stride over the boundary completely to stand by his side

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

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

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

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

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

“does this mean i get to retire?”

yunho

pov: you're part of a rebel group

the crown prince is not in his fucking library

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

until today

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

except doing that would make your job significantly harder…

considering you have been ordered to assassinate him.

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

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

a leash made of barbed wire

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

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

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

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

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

and you are amongst the elite team

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

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

which never happens

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

he could be anywhere and so could his royal guards

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

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

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

you run

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

then you wait

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

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

you ignore him to ask, “who are you?”

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

wait

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

the same as those on the elite team

“one of you,” he confirms your suspicions

except you don’t recognise his voice nor his build

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

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

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

we

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

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

“when is red most beautiful?”

it is a vague question with a fixed answer

one that reflects the heart of the revolutionary itself

during the sunrise of a new beginning 

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

the tension releases from your shoulders 

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

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

you both flip over the top and land in unison

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

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

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

and then you hear it

the shattering clang of a desperate parry

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

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

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

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

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

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

you have the element of surprise

but only for the next few seconds

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

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

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

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

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

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

you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

which suddenly makes you pause in your tracks

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

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

except…the man has disappeared

and so has the intruder’s body

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

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

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

you spot him

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

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

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

and there the crown prince stands

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

mercy that you have no intention of showing him

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

“it’s you again, isn’t it?”

you freeze

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

“you were here a few days ago”

fuck

how he knows you have no idea

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

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

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

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

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

what the actual fuck

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

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

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

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

but then his next words change everything

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

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

“hide,” he hisses urgently

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

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

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

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

“of course, crown prince yunho”

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

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

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

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

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

is this the same crown prince as the rumours?

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

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

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

“who exactly are you,” you dare to ask

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

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

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

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

because how is any of this possible?

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

it makes you feel so strange

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

yunho starts to explain

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

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

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

a new leadership

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“a suicide pill?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

whoever is behind it all has kept their tracks hidden well

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

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

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

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

other times he is the one trying to fluster you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you swallow hard

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

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

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

and eventually, you two have a breakthrough

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he doesn’t - not at first

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

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

the king’s butler?

lee?

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

“lee minjun”

you sink back in your seat

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

the question of why and what for remains

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

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

yunho breaks the silence first

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

after this all ends

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

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

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

the new beginning is close

and at that, something in you relaxes

crumbles and disintegrates with utter relief

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

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

ironically, yunho chokes on air

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

you think your eyes are deceiving you because-

the tips of his ears are a glowing red

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

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

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

“and why is that?” you humour him

he finally looks at you

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

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

yeosang

pov: you're in an arranged marriage with him

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

it just made sense

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

if looks could kill, yeosang would be dead right now

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

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

stupidly in love

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your whole life you have been able to wait patiently

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

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

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

nothing can bring you down from cloud nine

only…the letter never comes

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

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

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

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

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

and you also wonder about him

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

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

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

until-

you do.

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

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

your mind races with anticipated words and explanations

perhaps he had been too shy to reciprocate your letters earlier

or perhaps your letters had been lost in transit

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

stop sending me letters.

and just like that, the clock strikes twelve

your carriage reverts into a pumpkin

and your carefully curated story of prince charming disintegrates into ashes

you don’t write to him again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“why?” you ask yeoreum when she hums thoughtfully

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

oh?

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

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

first the vase, and now this

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

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

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

you’re tired of fearing rejection if you open up

you’re tired of questioning yeosang’s intentions

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

“are you okay?”

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

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

thoughts of vases and strawberry pastries flit across your mind

you start with half truths

“just missing my little brother”

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

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

it implies he’s noticed you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah, that’s okay”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you wrote me letters?”

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

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

“impossible. i never got your letters” 

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

“wait,” he interrupts

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

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

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

“not the seal, no”

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

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

“but then-”

but then who wrote the letter?

and where did all your letters go?

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

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

no, not a smile, you realise

a smirk

you are simultaneously overwhelmed with betrayal, guilt and apologeticness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

then he suddenly perks up with a sudden thought

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

eight flowers

eight letters

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

[martian-astro10]

Astrology observations - Part 6 (use whole signs and sidereal)

🐻‍❄️ I said it before that moon in 6th house people can be great leaders, and since then I met 4 new people with moon in 6th and I've come to the conclusion that rather than being the leader, these people work better as the right hand person of a leader. They're much better at following the instructions rather than giving them.

🔵 If you are a girl, and you have mars aspecting Saturn and vice versa, I would HIGHLY recommend you guys to marry a non binary person. This placement can cause unpleasant situations to arise if you don't take the right measures. So I won't say, don't marry, or your married life will be bad, but rather, marry someone who is comfortable expressing both their feminine and masculine side.

🐻‍❄️ if your 7th lord of d1 is in the 3rd house of d9 and the planet is a natural malefic like, Saturn, mars or sun, then it can make you fight with your siblings after marriage. I know 3 people with this and now none of them talk to their siblings. So i would recommend you guys to not listen to your spouse when it comes to your siblings. If you have a good relationship with siblings then first, talk to them rather than believing someone who you just met.

🔵 In vedic, sun is considered to be dead when it's in the 12th house, and the common interpretation is that they cannot be good leaders but I view it a little differently. I know a lot of people with this who are SOO GOOD at leading people BUT they have zero self confidence and it genuinely pisses me off so much because one of my friend has this and I always push her to apply for HOD positions but she's like "no, I can't do it" like GIRL, ATLEAST TRY FIRST. So if you have this, just trust yourself and apply for that position. All I'll say is "A real loser is someone who is so afraid of not winning, they don't even try"

🐻‍❄️ I know quite a few people who say that mars in Aries/ scorpio is better when it's in the chart of a man but I don't agree with that. Maybe I'm being biased because I have it but I think that women handle this placement better. Men already have so much fucking audacity and with mars being so strong it just gets multiplied by 100. I feel like these are the men who make podcasts about how a woman's purpose is to be a submissive breedable bitch for a man. Whereas, some of the most successful businesswomen have their mars in Aries/Scorpio/ Capricorn (the effect is multiplied when it's in the 1,4,7, 10 house). women are literally taught to put everyone else's needs before theirs but with mars being so strong they don't give a fuck, because now they embody those traditional "masculine" traits like being a selfish asshole.

🔵 Honestly, the real men, the ones who embody all the good masculine traits are those who have Jupiter in 1,4,10 house. I can give 100 examples from my personal life but, all I'll say is that Keanu Reeves has this....they are the ones who are actually the protectors, providers, brave, strong and dominant in a gentle way. Also, I'm like 100% sure that Carlisle Cullen would have this if he was a real person.

🐻‍❄️ Also, 7th lord of d9 in 1st or 4th house of d9 gives you a future spouse who represents your "ideal type". As I've said many times before, I only know 2 happily married straight couples 🥲 and both of them have this, so in one couple, both the wife and the husband have it and in another, the wife has it. I also know a lesbian couple and both the wives have this. I didn't cross check it with celebrities since most of them put on a facade.

🔵 Jupiter in 6th house....these people have such good luck. It's like, they get everything so easily and the worst part is that they don't know how to work and yet they keep on getting promoted because of nepotism and corruption, and the person who says anything against them gets fired. I wish I was making this observation based on one person, but I know FIVE people with this and it's the same case with all of them.

🐻‍❄️ Mercury in 10th is a placement that I've been seeing quite a lot these days, literally every chart I see has this. These people can be GREAT therapists and journalists from what I've seen, or they may also be the "mom" friend in their group. They're also very social and love interacting with people, they may be the most beloved in their friend group like "if you don't go then we won't go either" type. I'm a little jealous of them tbh, love their ability to light up the room with their presence.

🔵 Venus in 8th, I feel like this is going to be a little negative 😭. These people are very much into the hook up culture, especially men. I feel like they would be happier in a polyamorous relationship. This is also the placement that I do not like seeing in d9, I don't fuck with people who have this but I know many people who are okay with such unconventional relationships, and if you're one of those, then good for you. You don't have to fit in boxes made by other people. If you like something, then you like that, period. (If you're not like this, good, don't start ranting in the comments, it's annoying)

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2025

[nerdyjaw]

crybaby. | l. ackerman

content warnings (please read before continuing): smut, squirting, reader is strong, degradation, babbling, bottom reader, fem reader, overstimulation, levi makes reader count. mdni.

summary: youre the strongest in the room— until you’re under him, babbling his name like it’s the only thing you know.

age in bio or you will be blocked.

creator notes: hihi its jaww!! gonna hop back on my grind and fill up my drafts with posts so i can have them on standby. so sorry for inactivity 😭😭. this might seem ooc for some people (cause we all know levis a HUGE virgin haha) but just ignore whats canon rn and live in a world where he’s experienced in these fields 😭. highkey had to take inspo from other writers’ styles because i cannot write smut in my own style to save my life. holy fentballs. this one is kinda slowburn but not rlly, its just not straight to the point ifykwim. as always, constructive criticism and feedback is always welcomed and appreciated!!!

you, who has the strength of two blue collared men.

doesn’t cry. doesn’t flinch. doesn’t wince when you hit the ground. does not back down for shit. got slammed during training once and bit through your tongue— yet didn’t even blink.

you don’t even look that strong. to literally everyone, you have the build of someone who minds their business. you look tired. maybe a little mean. people assume they can take you on in a spar and have an easy victory— until they’re thrown over your shoulder with one hand. you lift what needs lifting, does what needs doing, and keeps it pushing.

you and levi met during squad reshuffling. you got assigned to his unit because you had a track record for handling fieldwork solo and keeping a calm head. levi didnt speak much to you at first. just gave orders. short, dry acknowledgements when you executed them well.

but the way you picked up full grown soldiers like paper? the way you carried two jugs of water in one hand, and a gear pack in the other? the way you held formation like a wall?

thats enough to get anyone wrapped, even levi.

one day, during a particularly messy clean - up, he noticed blood running down your leg. you were limping slightly, still hauling equipment. and you looked bored. like it wasn’t even worth stopping over.

“sit down.” he told you bluntly.

“i’m fine.” you attempted to argue.

“i didn’t ask.” he retorted.

so you sat. but you laughed a little.

and that was the start.

after that, he’d call on you more often. partnered you with him during scouting runs. paired you up for drills. you didn’t speak much, but when you did, it was always dry, smart, sharp. simple, just how he liked it.

and then one night, after hours, when the barracks were quiet and your hands were bruised from the day’s work, you ran into him. told a joke that got a small smile out of him. told him goodnight— and actually got a response.

and that was how it began.

levi’s quiet, and you are too. the kind of quiet that has its own rhythm. over time, he learned that you like your tea strong and your bathwater hotter than hell. you learned that he stares too hard when he’s tired, and that he can’t sleep unless something’s covering his hands.

and now he knows you.

he knows how you fold under praise.

how you melt before he even puts anything in.

how your voice gets thin and your breathing starts to skip when he whispers in your ear.

how your legs always twitch when all is said and done.

you’re strong. that’s still true.

but now?

now you’re on the bed, back against his chest, gushing.

“p-please—levi—levi— fuck, —i—i’m gonna— i’m gonna—“

hes fingering you quickly, hitting that spot just right. his other hand’s around your throat— barely pressing. just enough to keep you in place. keep your back arched. keep you open for him.

he watches your face closely. watches your lip tremble. watches your eyes start to roll. and he just tilts his head.

“gonna what?” he asks.

you sob. actually sob.

he pushes in again.

“one.”

your eyes roll. your pussy clenches and squirts, warm and sudden and so loud against his palm it echoes.

he hums.

“there she is.”

you’re crying now. deadass crying, drool on your lips and your hips bucking against his hand, your moans becoming hiccups as your eyes start to flutter.

“levi—levi, please—“

“what?” his voice is low. mean. but calm.

“you wanted more.”

“you wanted to be good.”

“so count.”

you shake your head, whimpering.

“i-i c-cant— levi, i need—i need to—“

he grabs your chin— firm, fingers digging just a little.

“you need to shut the fuck up.” his tone is sharp, slicing clean through the haze fogging up your brain. “youre taking it, that’s what youre doing.”

your breath catches. your body violently twitches. the second orgasm hits before the first even fully fades, and you let out a moan that could genuinely just pass as a scream. you can’t even stop it.

and when you come down, you don’t even really come down.

you crash.

“levi— levi i— hahh— fuhhh— i can’t— please—hahh— fuck, fuckfuckfuck— no more—i—s’too—s’too much—i c-can’t— please—“

you’re slurring every other word, drool clinging to your lips, whole body shaking as he curls his fingers just right and presses down harder with his palm, putting pressure directly on your clit. every time you try to breathe, another moan slips out. it’s like your brain is fried and stuck on a loop.

he just watches it all. listens to you babble and squeal like youve never been touched before.

“then stop running your mouth.”

you let out a high pitched, broken whimper— and it just spurs him on. he doesn’t slow down. definitely doesn’t stop.

you’re twitching, thighs trembling around his wrist, voice climbing up into glassy, desperate moans that barely sound like words anymore. it’s just noise now. messy, choked, wet sounds and the obscene slap of his fingers pumping into you, over and over and over—

“cmon,” he whispers directly in your ear, letting his chin rest on your shoulder. “be good. give me another.”

your eyes roll back, and you squirt for the upteenth time. though, the sound of it is barely coherent through the scream you let out.

oh, and you lose count again.

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

GhostKing!Maddie

Reveal gone right. Good parents Jack and Maddie.

Danny tells his parents that he’s Phantom and they accept him with open arms and hearts and the willingness to change their views. With this they start their research on Ghost culture, because that’s a part of their baby’s life (afterlife?) now so of course they’re going to make sure they understand their son so as to avoid potential culture clashes in the future.

(Did you know ghosts fight as a form of bonding?! Fascinating!)

At some point in their research they learn that the method of succession for the title of King of the Infinite Realms if for the former king to be defeated in trial by combat.

They learn that Danny defeated the former king tyrant Pariah Dark.

Their little Dann-o is the new King.

But he’s just a baby! Their baby! Cry his parents.

Danny is only 14, going on 15. Even if he’s a teenager he’s still their baby boy, and he is far too young to be forced to deal with politics alongside school and all the other dramas that come with teenagerhood.

They were young once, the Fenton parents remember how major some things were for teenagers and how stressful it could be. And Danny had already been through so much with protecting the town. And they wanted to make up for what they put him through before they knew it was him. Danny says it alright, they didn’t know but they do now and that accept him and that’s what matters! And oh do their hearts ache at the memories of shooting at their son and all the terrible things they said about him while he was right there.

No, they wouldn’t allow their son to deal with everything in his own when they could help him. Somehow. How do they help with this?

Then, Maddie demands an audience with the council. There, declares herself the King.

The Observants argue that she can’t possibly be the King as she is not a ghost, nor did she defeat the previous king to take the title. And anything else that they could use to oppose the idea.

Maddie counters that as her son isn’t even legally old enough to drive yet (the age is 16 in American right?) he cannot take on such responsibilities until he is of a certain age. Jack is nodding along enthusiastically as Maddie verbally eviscerates these floating eyeballs.

Clockwork is smirking in the corner. He likes Phantom’s mother. And he agrees with the Drs Fenton. He backs her up, and says that young Daniel had other pressing matters to attend to and that yes, he is in fact too young for the full responsibilities that come with being the King of the Infinite Realms. He is so young, and still of the living being a halfa that he would require education of the Realms laws before he could officially take up the crown.

But what about Maddie? She’s fully human, how could she possibly be placed in that position then without the same training?

Clockwork smiles as Frosbite or maybe Pandora, one of Danny’s other allies, states that the council could handle things until then, and that they would have had to have waited regardless for Danny to be up to speed before he could feasibly take on the role of King and confidently make decisions without the guidance of the council at every turn. With Maddie as a placeholder she could still sign off on things or act as a figure head, at least until Phantom could take on his role as the fully realised King.

Anyway, Maddie becomes the Ghost King. Or at least temporarily while her baby boy finishes high school and can decide what he wants to do. At least this is one less thing he has to worry about.

This however results in instances of cults and all manner of people trying to summon the Ghost King for one reason or another. But instead they get one Dr Maddie Fenton.

Sometimes it’s some kids that were fooling around at a slumber party, and she warns them on the dangers of summoning unknown entities without doing proper throughout research before hand and ensuring they have the proper protective measures if something were to go wrong.

And then there are cults and magic users and everything in-between that are trying to summon the Ghost King for personal gain.

These individuals are more often than not met with the sight of a bazooka, pulled from seemingly thin air, aimed directly at them as the very ominous sound of the woman counting down echos in the air. The ones with half a brain would book it.

All of this while maintaining the midwestern politeness would be both hilarious and a little ominous.

Then one day the Justice League, or any of the other teams, are breaking up a cult ritual that they got wind of to summon a powerful being for the purpose of destroying something or someone. I’m not to fussed on their motives.

But just before they can stop it the summing is cast and the air is filled with such a heavy sense of forbidding that it makes the hairs on the back of one’s beck stand on end.

The room darkens, the shadows seemingly converging in the centre of the summoning circle. It feels hard to breathe, and there’s a hint of something other in the air around them that just keeps increasing in intensity. It feels like reality is being around them, and just as quickly as it all began a crack appears within the circle. And a toxic green (Lazarus green) glow seems out of it as it opens like the unhinging jaw of a predator. There’s a blinding flash of green and then there is a woman, judging by her build, in a teal spandex suit with goggles fastened on her face.

She scans the room in silence before her eyes falls on the heroes standing in defensive positions before her. The cultists are all tied up or knocked out, or just frozen in place because holy shit the summing worked.

It’s never worked before.

But who is this woman?

And where is the Ghost King?

The head cultist, whom was still yet to be detained, demands to know who she is and where is the Ghost King?!

Maddie smiles as she pulls out her Fenton bazooka and says, “Oh bless your heart, I am the Ghost King!”

Where this goes from here, I’m not sure. This was all I had when is tarted writing this and right now I’m too tired to think. I just hope someone likes it and if you do, feel free to add anything! And if you have any critiques feel free to tell me!

(My apologise if I leave out a chunk of information, I’m writing this in my pyjamas half asleep and just trying to get it all written down. Also I’m not from the US, and haven’t watched Danny Phantom in a hot minute, so if I got something wrong pls forgive me.)

[burningcheese-merchant]

"You and I... We are meant to be together." okay everyone pack it up. go home. it doesn't get worse than this. I fear all other ancient x beast is #cancelled forever because how the utter fuck do you compete with that. My god. Dark Cacao would die on the spot, his old fucking heart would give out processing a sentence that romantic. Golden Cheese would choke and die from the physical manifestation of her own pride and ego before she could ever utter a sentence that open and honest. Hollyberry is choosing to laugh it all off and pray she can drink away and not think about it. White Lily would fall into another witch pot of bubbling goo before confronting said feelings. Only Pure Motherfucking Vanilla is that clincally batshit and unburdened to spout his feelings 1000% unfiltered to a guy who just killed his friends and got his rocks off psychologically torturing him.

Mystic Flour being utterly repulsed by such naïve, meaningless sentimentality, still clinging to the remains of the apathy she so cherishes and champions even as it slips through her fingers like flour through a sieve; hating herself to her very core because somewhere within it, she KNOWS her heart beats and aches for that ridiculous man, but she would end her own suffering before she allowed the truth to poke its head out from the shadows of her subconscious for even a single second

Burning Spice knowing how he feels for Golden Cheese, reveling in it, LIVING for the way his heart thunders in his chest and his breath hitches at the mere thought of his little bird. Never being afraid to tell her so, to pour out the contents of his dark heart without any filter (and Witches know he needs one at times...), either through his mouth or through the blade of his axe. But... still knowing that it isn't quite enough. Not for her. Because there's still something missing from his confessions. That soft, sugary sweetness that took away enough of the edge to his overwhelming spice that even he himself noticed it. That raw honesty - a different kind than he's used to, not quite what he employs. The kind that well and truly leaves him vulnerable and open to judgment; things he hates himself for fearing, even if it's only in relation to her and no one else. The kind he simply cannot have, that he cannot carry out. He tells Golden Cheese how he feels for her the way he WANTS to, not the way he NEEDS to. For that, he must change. And damn it, he can't handle any more change. It'll kill him, and he doesn't want to die anymore. Not while she's there to make his life fun again

Eternal Sugar sighing, rolling her eyes before letting them flutter shut again, because she knows this song and dance. She once helped countless others perform it; such was her lot as Happiness. And she chooses to ignore it, tuck herself back into bed and retreat into the world of dreams once more. Letting laziness govern her actions, like always. Running away from everything again - including her feelings for Hollyberry, and the fears and doubts that shroud them. Choosing to do nothing with the fact that Hollyberry is a runner and a quitter just like her, instead of taking initiative with her life and emotions for the first time in ages and telling Hollyberry point-blank that they could run away from the world together if she truly wanted

Silent Salt secretly lamenting his condition more than ever before, for now more than ever can he truly say that it is a hindrance, a curse, a stain on the tapestry of his life. Because no matter how well he's trained himself to express his thoughts and feelings through his actions, he knows that there are times where words really DO speak louder - and he can't speak them at all. He can never look White Lily in the eye and open his mouth and allow his praise and adoration to leap freely from his tongue. She will never feel the warmth of his tone as his words embraced her. She will never shiver and swoon at the joy and passion that dripped from every single letter - and there would've been many, there would've been more than could ever have been recorded, for he would've sung his feelings from every rooftop on earth until his lungs gave out. But he can't. He never will. Does he try to pretend it's better this way? Does he try and fail to cope with his lovesickness like his comrades do with theirs? Or does he accept the bitter reality for what it is, no ifs, ands, or buts, only hiding the gloom and doom he knows is written all over his face behind his helm just so he doesn't have to see it for himself?

And, above all of these things, bundling up the other 4 Beasts' feelings and tucking them away... Above all else, they are angry. They are angry at Shadow Milk. Because he achieved what none of them could. He got everything he wanted. His Ancient admitted his love for him, with all of the raw sincerity one could possibly afford another. The other Beasts would do ANYTHING to hear their Ancients speak to them in such a way. To acknowledge and embrace their connection, to confess to loving and longing for them; for their countenance, for their voice, for their touch, for their very souls. Shadow Milk got to reunite with his other half - who chose him willingly, wholeheartedly.

And Shadow Milk chose to throw it all away in the end. Let it all go to waste.

If any of them ever see him again, they're going to let him know EXACTLY how they feel about it all. Maybe it can count as practice towards crafting a proper heartfelt confession.

[mediumgayitalian]

"Don't cry."

"...I'm not."

"Omigods. Will. Don't cry."

"I'm not!"

But there are welled up tears making his eyes looking huge, and even as he bites it his lip still trembles. In seconds there is the slightest of sniffles.

Nico groans, slumping against the handle of the grocery cart. A WASPy mother glares at him in passing. He glares back and sics an errant soul onto her monstrosity of a hairdo for good measure.

"Will," he groans, metal bar digging into his forehead, "Will, it's a lemon."

"I know," Will sniffles, bravely. "Just -- leave it. Let's go."

Nico moves his arm, just enough to watch his too-tall over-empathetic dumbass best friend try and fail to pull himself together in the, and Nico cannot emphasize this enough, very public grocery store in the suburbs of Long Island, where people stare.

And, like.

The staring is not too unusual.

Will is in cutoff shorts and flip-flops. It's early March. Climate change is not that bad yet. The two of them are wearing neon camp t-shirts -- Nico's good, goth t-shirts have been stolen from him to be 'washed' -- and are both, Nico must emphasize again, fifteen years of age, with a grocery cart each full to the actual brim with Pop Tarts, Twizzlers, medical supplies, socks, and silly string. Will is approximately nineteen feet tall. They make a scene. That is a fair evaluation.

But rare is the day where Nico cannot quell the stares by reflecting hellfire into his eyes. Mortals usually flee in terror or at least walk away traumatized. Today they aren't even looking.

"Will," he says, as gently as he can manage. Will looks over, after a minute, and his bright eyes look so glassy and miserable that whoa, hey, Nico can manage a whole lot gentler than he thought he could, can't he. He reaches up and pats a palm against Will's wet cheek, swiping a thumb under his eyes. "Do you. Want." He glances over at the lone, half-dried up lemon on the floor by the produce baskets. "Would you like to take the lemon home with us.

"Yes," says Will quietly. Nico's hand falls away and Will wipes his face, crouching down to scoop it up. He hesitates before putting it in the cart, cradling it against his chest. "It's just." He looks at Nico through his eyelashes. Nico tries to smile encouragingly. Based on the immediate tears and sobbing of a child directly behind Will's shoulders, he is unsuccessful. "If we don't take it, no one will, you know."

"Yes," agrees Nico slowly. "Due to the fact that it is garbage."

Will snatches his hand back like Nico had smacked it, glaring hard. Nico is really starting to consider those bipolar pamphlets Kayla left pointedly on the Apollo table. Yeesh.

"It's not -- garbage! Just because -- just because something isn't as good as everything else doesn't mean it's garbage!"

...Or not.

Ah.

"Ah," says Nico. He clears his throat. "Ah."

Some cultures attribute tact and gentleness to his father -- Death accepts all, and in facts invites all, to reside with Him. He will take your hand and guide you to whence you have never travelled, where you have no kin. He will speak to you in your shock of your life and your triumphs. He, when you have no one, is your compassionate, voluble friend.

Hazel inherited all that, unfortunately. Nico got the dead-eyed stare and fruitiness.

"Uh," he tries, anyway, "if you were a rotten lemon, I would take you home."

Will looks at him skeptically. "You would?"

"Y -- uh, yes. I would make." He wracks his brain. "I would use you to clean surfaces."

"...Oh."

"Yes. Like -- chopping boards, and the like." He makes a karate chop motion with his hand. He immediately takes the hand and shoves it into the untraveled depths of his pocket, which is a challenge due to the fact that it took him forty minutes to paint his jeans on this morning, and vows to cut its quisling digits off as quickly as possible. Why is he alive.

He is grateful at least that his friend is about as stupid as he is.

"That would be a good use for me if I was a rotting lemon," Will agrees. He looks down at the rotting lemon cradled in his hands. "Maybe we will use you to clean."

"Yes," Nico says, gentle coaxing. "Now let's put the lemon in the cart, okay? We're almost done. We just need the nineteen quarts of ice cream Cecil paid me ninety dollars not to disclose to Chiron. Let's go."

"'Kay."

Garbage lemon safely laid among a braid of licorice packages, dead centre in the cart, they move on. The stares follow them, but Will at least does not seem to mind -- used to it, veteran camper that he is -- and slides his arm through Nico's crooked elbow. Nico takes that as the opportunity it is to steer him away from the cake that a nefarious teenager has pushed to the floor, lest that set him off next. They have only minutes until they make it to the cash register, where Nico will pay for whatever Will is watching him scan, and are home free.

"Hey, Nico."

Nico hums, eyeing the self-checkout line. "Yeah?"

"Would we still be friends if I was a worm?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

[howtofightwrite]

How much would a broken rib debilitate an inexperienced person in a life or death fight?

I’m trying to write my character’s (a 15-year-old, untrained librarian) first experience with serious violence (not his first time getting hit ever though, his travelling companion plays rough with him but obviously not with the intention to seriously hurt him) and being on the receiving end of a bandit attack. He gets grabbed by his hair and after he stomps on and breaking a couple of the bandit’s toes, the bandit gets angry and knees him in the stomach, breaking his rib and knocking the wind out of him while keeping his grip on his hair so he can’t double over properly.

Afterwards he’s slammed onto his back a couple times, which I imagine would send him into further pain as it jostles his injured rib. My question is, especially considering he’s completely untrained and this is his first experience with a broken bone and being attacked by someone with the intention to injure him, would the pain be great enough that he shouldn’t be able to fight back at all, or would the adrenaline of the life or death situation be enough that he could at least put up a struggle? I’ve personally only sprained my ankle, so I don’t know how incapacitating a broken bone would be, and with how vulnerable I want my character to come across, I really wanna make sure I get it right.

So, not speaking from personal experience, but no matter how much training you have, you can't “power through” a broken bone.

In the case of your ribs, don't worry, it will only cause debilitating problems if you want to do unimportant things, like breathing, or getting hit anywhere in the torso, or moving parts of your body that are connected to your torso. Again, you really can't power through that. In a situation like the one described, it's not a guaranteed death sentence, but, it's close enough.

I should probably add, this isn't because, of the broken rib per se, but, that rib is not doing them any favors. What it will ensure is that your character cannot defend themselves against their attackers. Given the attackers want to cause harm, they're going to be able to do that pretty effectively.

And it gets worse. Normally your ribs protect your internal organs from being damaged. When one of those ribs is broken, it becomes a bone shard perfectly positioned for puncturing internal organs. So taking blows to a broken rib can easily result in serious internal bleeding, and death.

To paraphrase an old joke, broken ribs are nature's way of telling you to slow down. They're not going to be able to fight back (or, really, engage in many physically intensive activities.) If someone wants to make them hurt, the hard part is living through the attack at all.

If you want a superficial break that you can (sort of) power through, a broken nose is one of the best options. It will bleed like crazy, but outside of a freak accident, it's very survivable, and looks a lot worse than it actually is. Broken fingers are another legitimate option, and there's a lot of ways that can happen. It will make it harder for them to handle a book afterwards, meaning it's the kind of damage that will stick with them throughout the rest of the story (and their lives, if they're not properly set.) Breaking a rib? That's going to need medical attention, and they're not doing anything meaningful while it heals. It can work if someone else pulls their attacker off of them, but they're not digging themselves out of this one on their own.

-Starke

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[tempfrangit]

who eats your heart

price x reader, 1.2K, 18+. MDNI content: alcohol, aphrodisiac, breeding, drugged sex, monsterfucking, noncon to dubcon, piss, unrealistic painful sex, hemipenes (two dicks) dividers by @/cafekitsune

thank you red5cars for letting me talk your ears off about points. (and thank you for letting me take your much better fic name, red 😹💚)

when you start to work with him, you don’t think anything of John’s offers for coffee, lunch, dinner. you’ve always been a moderately independent person, meal prepping everything so that you were always ready, so you just can’t bring yourself to be a bother. you don’t think about how often you turn him down, honestly. you remember the times you say yes to a morning coffee or a very early dinner before going home to continue to work.

a part of you thought he was quite sweet, in all honesty.

you couldn't have known he was trying to figure out how to help you realize that he was perfect for you, happy to help you come to the same point as him. it takes seven months of knowing you, seven months, to finally get you to agree to accompany him on a work trip. you don't think much of letting john handle everything, because you'll be meeting with another specialist and want to make sure you don't embarrass yourself… or john.

everything goes smoothly. you know you’ve both done well, and when you exchange emails with kevin, you can’t wait to chat with a new person in your field (and reading for fun, as it turns out you share some common interests). john is kind enough to offer his place for the night, where you’re able to make dinner together to celebrate and you don't stop yourself from having a glass of wine, even though this was work. the day had been truly… lovely.

you can feel your eyelids growing heavier as his deep voice rumbles through you, talking about his other work. you try to apologize as his strong hand touches your shoulder so feather light despite his size. when you look up, you swear his eyes are like jewels shining in the light. your words slur as they fall from your mouth and suddenly you feel like you’re slipping too.

the first thought to bubble back up into your head is that it’s so pleasantly warm. like a balmy summer night in your childhood, sleeping with the window open, listening to the frogs out there.

blue eyes like jewels stare into yours and you do not scream, but only because you cannot find it in you to scream, cold terror flooding your brain as you stare up at him, dazed mind still trying to fully comprehend everything, something, anything.

you'd always known there were other humanoids in the world, you just hadn't known john was a naga. you never would have even thought to guess he wasn’t a standard human. the realization is a heavy chunk of iced slowly settling low in your stomach as his thick scaly body moves, and you are made aware of how massive john price is.

his smoky words are so smooth but you don't understand them, brain still reeling and simultaneously slow cottony.

it's this lack of response that seems to draw his attention, leaning closer.

you don't know what spurs your next actions. you would never understand the thought that led you to rear up to bite him, to sink your blunt teeth into the heavily muscled spot where his shoulders joined his neck, desperately trying to break skin. some part of you must have been convinced the pain would make him let you go.

it was wrong.

his hiss so close to your ear makes your body lock up, fear making you fall limp like a ragdoll as the tip of his tail so gently begins to wind around your ankle. your bare ankle. a shudder courses through you as you try and bring all naga knowledge you have to the forefront of your mind, however, you... can't.

you're never felt so useless in your life.

you're just a rabbit caught in his coils.

you think you scream like one as his fangs pierce your neck, as he oh so lovingly begins pumping his venom straight into your veins.

you can feel the hot rush of piss between your legs but can do nothing to stop it, thighs shaking as if you’re freezing.

his breath hitches in your ear, you can feel the quick flicks of his tongue.

the splash of liquid startles you, makes you jump as your eyes shoot down and...you... you didn't know naga's really had hemipenes. the one currently splashing his musky piss on the underside of your tits, each drop that hits your nipple making you shudder, shares its brother's fat head, but it was definitely longer, thinner. you'd rather not focus on the other, avoid it as best you could.

the stream edges lower, coating your belly before he takes aim between your legs. your clit throbs at the contact, pulling a strangled moan from you as you throw your head back. you'd never — no one had ever — why did your belly feel so warm?

"there we go, darlin'," john soothes down at you, rough hand stroking the side of your face as his eyes meet yours. "knew you were perfect for me the moment i saw ya. and look at this, my venom getting my pretty bird in the mood, having her show how ready she is."

"gonna make sure your cute little cunt'll be full of me."

you want to correct him, to tell him you weren't his, that you didn't want whatever the fuck he seems to think you'll be doing.

but you can't move. and worse, it's not terror holding you still this time.

you can feel your clit swell, heart beat in your ear as his musky scent washes over you. oh. you can't stop yourself from moaning, hips canting forward in search of some relief. the room felt too hot. or maybe you were too hot.

but more importantly, you needed him.

when john chuckles, you can feel it, the heavy cockhead bumping against your aching hole with his amusement.

"deep breath, luv."

there's no real bracing for the fat intrusion, your breath catches and the next moment you've never been so full in your life.

you feel john speaking more than you understand it, his words are a rumble against your neck. when his thumb parts your lips, you start. or try to, really only accomplishing pulling your eyes back up to his face to stare owlishly up at him as the room continues to ring soundlessly around you.

it felt like he was right behind your bellybutton, which you knew was impossible, but-

you can't stop the moan that's dragged out with his cock, a high shuddering thing that seems almost punched out of you as a strong thrust has your hips meeting again. john tilts your head, keeps your eyes locked. you know you’re still rocking, still being fucked, trying to get him to hit that spot he’d grazed past upon sliding in. 

when he laughs again, he does. and you’re not proud, you wish you were, but it had been so long. your moan is instinctive, as you clench down on him, trying to keep the pleasure, follow it so that it continues to be just right. 

but you... can't.

your current position was too flat. 

a disappointed whine leaves your throat with the realization. 

leading to john's immediate freezing. 

his breath pants across your bare chest. “what do you need, luv?”

your tongue feels so thick as you stare up at him.

“more.”

[clerc16]

EVERYONE ADORES YOU (AT LEAST I DO)

3 times in which charles tried to win Y/N over, and the 1 time she caved in.

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: none.

Liked by charles_leclerc, yourbsf and 61, 780 others

yourusername life recently 🌸

charles_leclerc cute

charles_leclerc hi Y/N

yourusername hey

charles_leclerc you look cutee

yourusername well aware you mentioned it before but thank you

yourbsf gorg!!!!

yourusername all youuu!!

user6 i bet charles is screaming crying throwing up because Y/N was not this enthusiastic whilst replying to him

pierregasly i can confirm

maxverstappen i can also confirm

oscarpiastri me too

charles_leclerc not cool guys. not cool.

user8 i love how honest the drivers are

user9 and how honest charles is too because she IS looking cute

francisca.cgomes miss you!!!

yourusername miss you more love! meet soon?

charles_leclerc meet at an f1 race! fun and exciting

user1 i find it hilarious how Y/N is ignoring all of charles’ attempts

user4 literally giggling i love her

user5 my mother

Liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 91, 719 others

tagged: francisca.cgomes

yourusername day out with my love 💞💓💖

francisca.cgomes the best time ever as always <3

yourusername mwah!

pierregasly please stop stealing my girlfriend from me

yourusername she is MY gf 🤫

francisca.cgomes honestly pierre don’t disturb us

pierregasly get yourself a real partner and STAY AWAY FROM HER

charles_leclerc i volunteer as tribute

maxverstappen charles, no

user9 Y/N i beg you give charles a chance

oscarpiastri Y/N i am begging you too

alexalbon me too. i am tired of this.

scuderiaferrari same.

charles_leclerc what a duo!!! f1 race next? ;)

yourusername No sorry

user6 Y/N LMFAOOOO

user3 oh poor charles

user0 i just heard charles scream loudly into his pillow

arthur_leclerc spoiler alert: he did

user1 mothers are mothering !!!!

user4 charles baby i think you need to start giving up now

charles_leclerc never back down never what

user4 he’s completely lost the plot

charles_leclerc wow 😍

yourbsf get a job stay away from her!!!

Liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 117, 931 others

yourusername spontaneous museum day out

charles_leclerc if you were a painting you would be a masterpiece

yourusername pipe down, leclerc

charles_leclerc :(

yourusername sad faces do NOT work on me 💪

scuderiaferrari just say yes. the whole team is begging you.

maxverstappen not part of the team, but i am begging you too.

pierregasly i cannot be seen in ferrari red, but i beg you too.

alexalbon not a spot of red in my team but i also am begging you to say yes.

oscarpiastri yeah what they all said

francisca.cgomes take me with you next timeeee

yourusername come to monaco!!!

yourbsf do not forget to invite me omg

user1 all the drivers have lost it i am LOVING this

user7 charles is always so down bad in her comments it is hilarious

charles_leclerc my pain is NOT funny.

yourusername it truly is, leclerc

charles_leclerc omg heyyy Y/N

charles_leclerc yk race weekend is coming up right?????? 😁😁😁

yourusername don’t count on me

lewishamilton i didn’t want to involve myself in this but Y/N please say yes before next season comes because i cannot handle him crying in the garage

yourusername omg lewlew whatever u say king!

charles_leclerc SO YOU’RE COMING TO THE NEXT RACE?

yourusername don’t tell lewis i said this, but no

pierregasly ENDED HIM

charles_leclerc shut up pierre

user6 CHARLES FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE IN THESE COMMENTS BRO

user3 Y/N eating as always!

user9 WHY ARE WE NOT DISCUSSING CHARLES’ DISGUSTING PICK UP LINE IM CRYING HES SO CORNY

yourusername i know right, flattering me tho

charles_leclerc am i seeing this correctly? flattering? you’re flattered?

yourusername don’t you have a job to attend to?

charles_leclerc YOURE FLATTERED

scuderiaferrari he’s squealing in the middle of a meeting, calm down please.

lilymhe i miss youuuu

yourusername soooon <3

user8 wait i might be reaching do you think Y/N caved in

user1 no she is NOT that easy to convince

Liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 1, 829, 191 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc pretty win in front of a pretty girl ❤️

yourusername how charming

charles_leclerc that’s all you really

yourusername why thank you charles

pierregasly WAR. IS. OVER.

francisca.cgomes my girlfriend

charles_leclerc ? stay back

pierregasly we’re in this one together mate

yourbsf you did not get a job and you did not stay away from her. ok.

yourusername it’s okay, kinda glad he didn’t

charles_leclerc ASDNDLSBLXJWOSJ

oscarpiastri FINALLY!!!!!!!!! my parents lowkey

yourusername HIGHKEY even

charles_leclerc you’re officially adopted!

maxverstappen two celebrations in one 🎉🎉🎉

lewishamilton thank you for listening to my advice, Y/N

user6 AAAHAHHAHAHAHKSLDLEKWKWKKDJSKWKJ

user2 MY ROMAN EMPIRE

user8 see guys joblessness WORKS

yourusername it does

scuderiaferrari this calls for a celebratory dinner. not because you won but because she caved in

charles_leclerc ? thanks ig?

yourusername SHHHH CHARLIE DONT SAY NO TO FREE FOOD thank you ferrari :))

user0 SHE WENT FROM LECLERC TO CHARLES TO CHARLIE AAAAAAAAA

Liked by charles_leclerc, yourbsf and 1, 693, 627 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername loser. my cute loser.

charles_leclerc YOURS

yourusername yes!!!!

pierregasly my job here is done

yourbsf so adorable actually

charles_leclerc is this the comment of approval?

yourbsf possibly

charles_leclerc VAMOS

francisca.cgomes you are still my girlfriend tho

yourusername absolutely

charles_leclerc No

pierregasly NO.

user3 HER 😭 CUTE 😭 LOSER 😭

user7 charles i am so sorry for bullying you

user2 the real question is how did he pull her with no flirting abilities

yourusername he’s hot so it gave him bonus points

charles_leclerc YOU THINK I’M HOT

user5 you know what. fair play charles. fair play

user1 next time i try to ask someone out i’ll use the charles leclerc technique

lilymhe MY BABIES

yourusername double date soon?

francisca.cgomes make that a triple date!

alexalbon WHAT LILY SAID

user0 officially my parents i love them a lot

── ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

[arrowthrewme]

Hello! Once again, I cannot believe that my three characters have been loved by so many people (or that I've already gained 20 something followers!!!) thank you <33

WARNING: Yandere behaviour, male reader intended

Green Green Dress

Yan Jock, who you meet during his practice. You volenteered to bring water to the school's rugby team. He was the team's leader, praising the team for their hard work.

Yan Jock, who stops dead in his tracks when he sees you. He swears he felt his heart stop and start in one second. It was weird...

Yan Jock, who introduces himself soothly ("Stephen at your service, delivery boy ;)") all while his heart beats inside his heart like war drum

Yan Jock, who, from that day on, invites you to his table and sits next to you during lunch (you sadly don't share any classes). He chats to you about practice, his friends and family and whatever else he finds interesting enough

Yan Jock, who you form a friendship with! Well, at least that's how you view it. Stephen views it as a challenge and a punishment. No boy should look so attractive! So why do his eyes wander your body like he does the girls in the school...?

Yan Jock, who is just a dumb little buffed up puppy who is realising that maybe the way he looks at muscular men isn't fully platonic

Yan Jock, who, as you get closer, starts to treat you like he did the past girls he's dated. Giving you his jersey, putting his arm around your shoulders, asking for a good luck hug (it's supposed to be a kiss, but he can't :c)

Yan Jock, who really loves dancing. It's a basically fun exercise. He's not good in the professional sense, but he's still good! (100% asks you to dance when you two start dating, maybe even before)

Yan Jock, who glares dagers at anyone who approaches you with romantic intent (mind you, everything that isn't formal is considered romantic intent by him) before wrapping his arm around you and kindly (threatiningly) tells the other person to fuck off.

Yan Jock, who isn't above punching the person, but doesn't want you to be mad at him

Yan Jock, who melts when you two finally kiss. It wasn't at a big moment. No big game. No party. Just you two walking around your hometown. He leaned down to hear you better and you had enough of the dancing around he's been doing for months and kissed him. Safe to say he will be asking for kisses every day (he's not taking no for an answer)

Yan Jock, who physically holds you back from going somewhere. He's stronger than you. A lot stronger. So when he doesn't want you going somewhere, he will throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and happily skip away to cuddle under the bleachers. Stephen is the type of partner who asks to come with you to the bathroom

Yan Jock, who hates when someone yells at him or expresses their disappointment. He can't handle it. Stephen has been the "Golden boy" for so long. He can't lose that. So, if you ever want him to let go of you just use that! Don't worry, a little kiss on the lips will cheer the jock right up!

Yan Jock, who has the most perfect ass. Some of the girls at your school are jealous. And some guys question their sexualities because of it. And you? Oh, you're enjoying the whole damn bakery every day (not like Stephen minds)

Yan Jock, who, when meeting your parents, acts all anxious and worried, but that doesn't last long. 10 minutes later, he is talking with your dad about all types of sports while complimenting your mother's decor choices. He knocks it out of the park! You knew he would! (Stephen is definitely asking your dad for your hand in marriage. That's not negotiable for him.)

Yan Jock, who daydreams about having the picture-perfect family with you after school. White picket fence, a good home in a friendly neighbourhood with a huge backyard where your two kids and dog can run around in. Oh, it's the dream!

Yan Jock, who will carry you through life. He's trained all his life!...If only that emo nerd you insist on being friends with would just piss off already, then it would all be perfect...