#raze fluff not hell

[wxnheart]

𝚁𝚊𝚣𝚎 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕 (𝙱𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙷𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗)

Most would call you crazy for getting in his way instead of out but what the hell (pun intended), life's too short, you've seen more shit than you probably ever expected to see, and it's not like you're the only one who has a hard-on for the scary bastard. You're just honest with yours... sometimes. And besides, it's not like the Doom Slayer is complaining.

He isn't. Not really. He's just... making it background noise? He has more important things to do like save your ass from an invasion of Hell, but still, that doesn't stop you from trying to get to know him.

As much as you could, of course. Which wasn't a lot. At all, really, but it's the thought that counts. You tended to fill the silence with random observations and stories about... about anything, really, and while the Doom Slayer never vocalizes it, your voice (and you) grew on him. It was either listen to you, listen to his other fan (who was helpful and savvy enough to just... support), or listen to him. He picked the lesser of the three evils for once.

You told stories about your colleagues, especially the uppity bastards who were scared shitless when they found out the Slayer was in HQ. Your laugh was... different. Not unwelcome. Just different. Genuine. Something he hadn't heard since...

You told stories of your upbringing and how it inspired your profession. Hell, you even told him the stories told to you about him. You asked him if they were true but surprise, surprise, you didn't get an answer. Not like you were going to, anyway, but it's the thought that counts.

But yeah, the Doomguy can appreciate it. As much as he possibly can. It's not too often that he gets to hear something other than screeches of terror and pain as his bullets, fists, and blades tear through the flesh of demons. It's not too often that he gets respite from the memories and ghosts that haunt him more than Hell and the Makyrs ever could. It's not too often that he... Hn.

Sometimes a little goes a long way and while he has his own devices stored away to remind him of his humanity, just hearing another human talk to him does something for him those things haven't done in a while. And the silence he'll face in the aftermath is always deafening.

You wondered out loud what you would do after all this was said and done and Hell was wholly defeated, and while he certainly doesn't give two fucks because, well, he's busy razing Hell, he... Hm. Maybe the Slayer does care. Somewhat. At least you'll be safe to irritate the fuck out of someone else, hopefully those shitty colleagues of yours. So yeah, the Slayer would miss it if he were being honest with himself. He'd miss it, being human.

...But he won't miss Doomie-kins. Who the fuck came up with that name for him?

[tacticaldiary]

It All Comes Crashing Down

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

She presses the metal radio against her lips and mumbles her final words, hoping that although he has not spoken, he would hear.

"I love you, Simon.

A/N: The classic 'bomb my location' fic you've all been waiting for! This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks, so I'm glad I finally got it out- I'm thinking about a part 2 where she wakes up and it's some extra fluff, maybe?

Masterlist

She takes a shaky breath in as her hands grip her rifle tighter, but when she speaks her voice is as steady and firm as ever.

"Bomb my location."

The words are acrid on her tongue, but they feel right to her heart. Her mind is in disarray, trying to piece together any other solution that won't have her ending up under dead under pounds of rubble, but she knows deep down that there's no other way out of this.

An entire enemy organisation eliminated at the expense of one soldier.

It was a win-win for everyone but her.

And that was alright. She's made her peace with it, made it the moment she signed her name on those documents giving her life away to the tang of blood and the scent of gunsmoke.

"Level the building." She continues, wincing at another hail of fire that rains upon her. Heavy footsteps and orders barked in Russian move around her location. Steadily being surrounded, there was little hope for a smooth extraction or escape anyway. "Have Soap blow the charges, Captain. Then send in the airship and raze this hellhole to the ground."

"Like hell we're doing that." Gaz's voice comes through her comms, frustrated. "We're not leaving her, Price." They must have rendezvoused successfully, because Gaz doesn't speak through the comms, rather it sounds as if he's turning away his head to speak to the man directly.

It brings a small smile to her face despite the circumstances. Her boys would get out of this, at least.

Simon. Her mind flashes to her Simon and she thanks whoever's above that they had split up before everything went to shit.

It had been fine at first. She was setting the charges they needed to bring the building down while he fetched the intel from somewhere else, and really, she should have been suspicious when it all went smoothly.

She'd planted the last charge before the enemy started closing in.

Like rats, they seemed to emerge out of nowhere shooting her down and pinning her until she had no choice but to slip away and barricade herself in one of the nearby rooms. The entrance and exits were likely swarmed with people and here she sat, in the heart of it all.

Unreachable, untouchable.

She sort of tunes out the muted conversation on the other end, lets the ringing on her head take over. Loud angry cursing, yelling in distinctive Scottish, the harsh rasp of her Captain telling everyone to calm down...it all floats through her mind.

Everyone but Ghost.

She doesn't hear his voice...but he was alive, wasn't he? She'd seen him slip out of the building through the window in front of her, so she knows he must have gotten out. The thought makes her gut curl up, brings her back to the present.

"Negative, Sergeant." Price's voice cuts through her thoughts, much louder than the others. "We're mapping out a route to come get you-"

"Price, it'll be suicide." Perhaps it's the way her voice softens and quiets, the gentle way she talks so different from the harsh way she's spoken earlier. It's as if she's accepted it, is content to lay down and allow herself to be swallowed by the dirt she came from. "I'm one soldier. Don't make yourself visit more than one coffin."

"I'm going to-"

"Set off the charges."

There's a beat of silence, painstaking silence where nobody speaks. Even the gunfire outside the room she's barricaded in seems to fade out for a moment.

"Copy."

A death sentence coming from the man she considered family.

It cracks a smile out of her. She squeezes her eyes shut, lets her head fall against the blood spattered wall behind her.

"Make sure my replacement's just as much a pain in the ass to you, alright?" If the way her voice breaks at the end of her last sentence is noticed, it's not brought up. "Simon's gotta have someone to push around, yeah?"

"There's no replacing you."

There's arguing. Soap and Gaz are yelling, and it's startling because she's never heard either of them shout the way they are, at their Captain nonetheless.

It's comforting to know she was cared for, even if she's about to die.

A sudden bang on her door makes her jump. Muffled Russian filters through the old wood. Someone ramming at it with something, trying to break it down.

But it doesn't really matter, does it? She'll be going out on her own terms even if they find her now.

Ghost...Simon. Where was he? If there was one thing that'd settle her mind right now it'd be hearing that gravelly voice, even if it was merely yelling at her, telling her how stupid it was to suggest what she has.

A desperation claws at her chest, deep down. She wants Simon, wants to spend the night in his bed again, wants to hug him, feel his skin, wants to see those rare smiles of his one more time.

Just once.

Just one more time before she-

"Charges setting off in 5-"

How cruel was the world?

She hopes Simon knows that she didn't mean to leave him. That she wanted him to go on without her, to not fall into the void of 'what-if's.' It wasn't his fault.

Her eyes burn but she refuses to let out the helpless sob clawing its way up her throat. She wants...she wants so much. Wants to do so much more, wants to live, and breathe and smile and laugh and experience and live. Simon. She wants to tell him so much more.

If she could go back in time and fill their silences with all the words she wants him to know right now, she'd do it in a heartbeat.

It's an impulsive decision, how her hand shoots up to grab at her radio frantically. Switching it to the private line between just the two of them, she presses the metal against her lips and mumbles her final words, hoping that although he has not spoken, he would hear.

"I love you, Simon."

The ground crumbles beneath her, the world turns to black.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Slipping out of the small shed, he tucks the papers into his vest. For a multi-national organisation, they sure were stupid as hell when hiding their intel.

Scanning the grounds for any movement, Ghost moves out, keeping to the shadows until he reaches the edge of the field that morphed into the woods farther down.

"Intel secured, moving to rendezvous point now." He says into his comms. He frowns when he doesn't get an answer back, grabbing his radio and speaking again, casting a glance back into the foliage in the distance where he knows the others have staked their place to operate from.

Price, Gaz, and Soap were operating remotely, dealing with drones and distant detonation devices, whereas the other two had infiltrated the building separately.

Plant the charges and secure the intel. Simple tasks made difficult when they both realised that the intel wasn't in the building, but instead in the shed attached to the side of the complex instead. Splitting up had been the most logical thing to do, even when Ghost had refused at first.

"It'll be fine. Quick and easy, right?" She'd told him with a grin. "Get that intel before I'm out of the building and maybe I'll give you an extra treat when we get back." Ghost had rolled his eyes at her suggestive wink.

"Does anyone copy?" He says into the object. He's met with nothing but muffled crackling and garbled speech, tinny and indecipherable. Ghost scowls at the machine, ripping it off of his vest and turning it over. It crackles and pops with bursts of sound but nothing cohesive enough to interpret

"I-...ou...Simon"

"Fucking thing's busted." He mumbles to himself, shoving the item back into his vest, his hand brushing against the folder of intel he's successfully recovered from the shed attached to the main building.

He can spot one of the convoy vehicles near the edge of the woods, but he doesn't let his guard down even as he crosses the field towards it.

Ghost barely takes a step through the dead grass before the building behind him goes up in an explosion that makes even him unsteady with the force of it. Flames lick up the east side of the massive structure and Ghost takes a second to watch as it crumbles in on itself sending up clouds of dust and debris.

Good fucking riddance.

He's looking forward to getting the hell out of this place once he rendezvous with everyone else. This mission had stretched on for far longer than it should have, the elusive bastards slipping away through their fingers time and time again with dirty, underhanded tactics.

The foliage grows thicker as he steps into the woods, rifle at the ready. A click of a safety had him raising his weapon and spinning around immediately.

When he sees a very familiar mohawk, however, he lowers his weapon instantly. "Blue!" He says loudly, bringing up a hand to half Soap. "Just me, Johnny."

Soap follows suit and lowers his weapon, his shoulders visibly relaxing the tiniest bit. "Welcome back." He says, but something about his voice makes Ghost uneasy. "Price and...and the others are prepping exfil." He gestures towards the clearing.

"Everyone else made it back?" He asks as they push through the meager trees and into the open space where soldiers are rushing around tying up loose ends.

"Aye." Soap chokes out.

Ghost would question it, but he's too busy doing a sweep of the clearing, putting names to faces. Price and Gaz were there, going back and forth over something. It strikes him a little odd how furious Gaz looks, Price looking so resigned but he pushes it away in favour of catching a glimpse of the person he's more inclined to spot.

"We tried what we could, but she was pinned down." Soap breaks the silence, misinterpreting the reason behind his silent staring at Gaz and Price. "We didn't...Laswell's insisting immediate evac, but Gaz wants to at least find a body to bury." A bitter laugh that makes Ghost's stomach drop like a stone.

"What?"

Soap rakes a bloody hand through his hair, shakes his head, and continues on like he's in some sort of shock. "I don't want to. I think she'd rather us leave her buried there than dig out bits and pieces and bury her again." His voice cracks.

Bury...?

There's only one woman in their team.

There's only one person he hasn't accounted for in the clearing.

There's only one person he hasn't reached on his comms before they broke.

The world spins, his mind screams and falls silent, a crescendo of noise and denial. The ground shifts beneath his feet, rocking him into a state that makes him feel like he's walking on string.

"MacTavish." His words are so calm and even, it's eerie. "Is my girl still in the building?" He feels detached from himself, perhaps a way to distance himself from the pain of the implied.

Soap looks at him for a long moment, then croaks out one, broken word.

"Was."

And it all comes crashing down.

He's been through torture before. Had his skin marred, his fingernails torn off, been hung from his ribs but nothing, nothing has ever come close to the way his heart twists.

Nothing had ever made him panic in a way that has his throat closing up.

"Christ." Johnny breathes, and it's a sound that drags him back from the brink of something horrible. Soap's eyes are fixed on the empty spot on his vest that holds his radio on normal days, horrified. "You didn't bloody know." He states.

Wasting time answering is useless. Talking, speaking breathing is useless because not a moment later Ghost is sprinting towards the rubble.

The rubble that he had just watched fallen. The building he'd stood there and watched fall down, had felt pride and relief in seeing.

His gear digs into him, the air thickens with smoke and dust but he doesn't stop. Vaguely he hears people yelling after him, hears Price and Gaz and Soap and every other motherfucker who stood by and detonated the charges. Friend or foe it didn't matter to him right now. If someone dared to get in his way he'd mow them all down, grind them into nothing and keep going.

They blew the charges.

The airship would be here any minute to finish the job.

No, he'd get to her by then. Ghost slams down into the ground somewhere near where they split off. He'd find her by then, and he'd bring her back, bring her to medical and she'd be fine in a week or two.

There was no other fucking option.

The debris rakes off the fabric of his gloves, splits the skin on his fingertips as he hauls and pushes and pulls and digs through stone and metal and wood, leaving evidence of his efforts in the form of his own blood behind.

She had to be okay.

Not her. Not like his mother, not like his brother, not like his nephew.

Not her.

He digs, calls out her name until his voice is hoarse, pulls away piece after piece of rubble until his fingers are torn to shreds.

Just as he hears the sounds of incoming aircraft, he spots something that makes the knot in his chest slam against his ribcage in pure and utter terror.

It's been a while since Simon has felt fear this pure.

Hair that he's familiar with, strands that he's gripped and gently soothes his fingers through peek out from under the piece of metal he's just lifted.

Unable to breathe, his attempts at moving the earth increase tenfold. He picks off stone after stone, brick after brick until more of her body is uncovered. Still, unmoving, bleeding. Once he's gotten her top half free, he hesitates for one horrible moment because what if he looks down to see a still chest?

Steeling himself, he bites the bullet and curls an arm around her waist, pulling her out of the debris.

The relief that slams into him when he feels her shallow, breaths against his palm is almost enough to send him to his knees.

"I've got you, love." He mumbles, half to himself as he adjusts her in his arms. She's dead weight, pulse barely there but present.

Cuts and bruises, Ghost can name at least five lacerations and countless other places she's bleeding from, a broken arm, leg, and who knows what kind of internal bleeding.

Alive.

But still alive.

And that was enough because like hell Ghost was going to let the one good thing in his life slip through his fingers ever again. He'd drag whoever he needed to her aid, he'd go to hell and back just to make sure she got to open her eyes again.

With limps that ache and a heart that's heavy, he quickly moves them out of the rubble, just in time to see two aircraft circling their location. They hadn't dropped any explosives yet, which a far part of Simon's brain thinks might be Price's doing.

Uncaring of whoever was watching, because frankly everyone could fuck off right now and it would be preferable, Ghost presses his lips to her hair as he moves into the clearing with her.

"Medic!" He barks out. "Right fucking now!"

He ignores Gaz's strangled gasp, ignores the way the entire team approaches them and tries to help. Ghost is a little concerned that if he let the adrenaline that's pumping through his veins go, he might just collapse as well, and that was unacceptable at the moment.

A weak hand grasps at the front of his vest, his eyes snapping immediately to her at the movement.

"S...'mon?" She says, words so faint he barely hears them?

"I'm here." He confirms, pressing his face to her hair harder. "I've got you, darling." He whispers. "I've got you."

It soothes her, because she nods against him and lets herself relax. It's only then that Simon notices she's holding something in her good hand in a deathly tight grip.

Upon closer inspection, it's a radio.

"I-...ou...Simon"

Fucking hell. His grip on her tightens.

She'd been trying to contact him in what she thought were her last moments, and he'd never have known because his fucking radio was broken.

It doesn't matter, he tells himself, chants it over and over again in his mind. He's got her again, and like hell is he ever letting go now.

When the medics bring out a stretcher, Price has to talk him into letting her go down into him, practically ordering him to let the bloody medics do their jobs. He doesn't stray far, however, keeping a hand on her at all times. Sat next to where they were working on her in the helicopter back, never once do his eyes stray from her unconscious form.

She wakes up once or twice, whines, and fights against the medic's hands with a panic-induced haze. Every time Simon is there, holding her hand, muttering rough, soothing praise and assurances.

It calms her down immediately, the trust in those far away pain-addled eyes when they meet his is enough to make his heart twist.

Simon stays with her the entire time, and then takes residence in a seat next to her hospital bed on base, ready for when she wakes up.

Hell would freeze over before Simon would ever let them be apart again.

If that makes him selfish, then so be it.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(12/08/2023)

[all-with-angel]

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐆𝐄, 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒! •°. *࿐

Summary: As an infamous half-curse assassin, you never thought you'd find companionship, much less in the equally infamous pink-haired 'King of Curses' ...

Pairings: HeianEra!Sukuna Ryomen x male!powerful!reader

Content. Mentions of child abuse, gore, murder, blood, angst, fluff, crack, fucked up found family, uraume mention hell yeah, gn!reader

W.C. 3.7k || Masterlist || A.N. Reader is an assassin and is a bit unhinged as well, but I adore it!! They're somewhat spider-based, with their own extra pairs of arms and eyes +a defense based CT.

MINOR AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI. Masterlist

The village was silent. Too silent. Not the eerie hush of a place where people slept, nor the somber quiet of a mourning home, but the absolute absence of life. The kind of silence that only follows death.

You knew before you stepped past the crumbling torii gate that your pay had been stolen from you.

The air smelled of blood. Thick, metallic, and cloying, it clung to your skin as you stepped through the ruins of what was once a grand estate. Red lanterns hung askew, their paper bodies torn and stained, still flickering with dying light. The cobblestone courtyard was slick with fresh carnage, and the walls, once pristine, were now painted in crimson streaks. Corpses lay where they had fallen—guards, servants, and the nobles who had once ruled this place.

Your employer, a pitiful man with too much wealth and not enough sense, lay among them. His eyes, frozen in horror, reflected the flickering torch light from the shattered lanterns around him. His throat had been torn out, the wound jagged and messy, as if done in passing, without care.

You clicked your tongue.

No payment, then.

Annoyance flickered through you, but it was distant, dulled. All that effort. Days of tracking. Weeks of maneuvering through the shadows, making kills in silence, setting the stage for a perfect strike—gone. The man you were meant to collect your pay from, dead.

You had lived too long in the shadows to expect fairness. You killed for money, nothing more, and you had learned long ago that the world owed you nothing.

Born of human and curse, you had been despised from the moment you took your first breath. Your mother had made a mistake, and you had been the consequence—a child too human to be a true curse, too monstrous to be accepted by men. They had feared you, hated you, tried to kill you before you were even strong enough to fight back. But you survived.

You always survived.

Your extra limbs had been a curse in your youth, proof of your inhumanity, but they became your greatest weapon as you grew. Strength, speed, precision—six hands worked better than two. And when you learned to hide them, to pull them close and pass as something almost normal, the world became your hunting ground.

Assassination had been the obvious choice. No morals, no allegiances, only the cold certainty of coin. You did not care who died, only that they did.

But now, your target was already dead, and yet you gain nothing. And there was only one man who could be responsible.

A shadow moved within the ruined estate. Slow, unhurried footsteps, the deliberate kind that spoke of confidence, of amusement. Someone who had never once feared death, because they had never needed to.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to acknowledge his presence without giving the satisfaction of immediate attention.

Sukuna Ryoumen.

A demon. A calamity in human form. His legend reached your ears long before this day—stories of the King of Curses who razed villages for sport, who devoured men whole, who fought gods and won. You’d always found such tales exaggerated. No one could be that monstrous. No one could be that untouchable.

But seeing him now, standing amid the ruin of his own making, you had to admit the stories had barely done him justice.

He was taller than any man you had ever seen, broad and thick with muscle, with skin inked in cursed markings that coiled around his arms, chest, and throat. Four arms—an anomaly, an abomination, yet he carried them as if they were his birthright. The left side of his face was something not meant for mortal eyes, warped and grinning with unnatural delight. Blood dripped from his claws, pooling at his feet as if the earth itself bled for him.

He turned, sensing you. And when his four burning eyes met yours, something twisted in your chest. A deep, primal instinct screamed at you to run. But fear was not something you entertained.

Instead, you sighed. Loudly. Dramatically.

“Well, there goes my payment,” you muttered. “What a waste of time.”

His crimson eyes found yours, and you felt it immediately—the weight of his attention, the way his gaze lingered, as if trying to place you.

"Another rat," he murmured, voice low, edged with amusement. "I thought I was done with you vermin tonight."

You smiled. Not a kind smile. Not a warm one. A slow, knowing curl of the lips, the sort that had sent men to their graves in fits of paranoia, wondering if they had just met their end before your blade ever touched them.

"If you were," you said, "I wouldn't be here."

A flicker of something crossed his face—amusement, curiosity, something sharper underneath. Interesting.

Most people quaked at the mere mention of his name. They fell to their knees, begged, pleaded, cried. The ones with a sliver of backbone tried to fight and died screaming for it. But you? You were calm. Unshaken. Unimpressed.

He took a step forward, tilting his head slightly. His presence was suffocating, heavy in the air like a storm waiting to break. "And who might you be, boy?"

You glanced down at the bodies strewn around you, at your employer's lifeless face, the blood soaking into the dirt. "Someone who was supposed to get paid tonight."

A chuckle. Low, rumbling. "Ah. And now you won’t."

You shrugged. "No."

"And what do you plan to do about it?"

You met his gaze and held it. "Haven’t decided yet."

The truth was, you had decided. From the moment you saw the carnage, from the moment you realized who had caused it, you knew there was only one path forward. Sukuna had wasted your time. Had stolen your prize. It wasn’t about money anymore—it was about principle. Sort of, not really.

You did not let things go unanswered. And neither did he, you imagined.

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words, unreadable thoughts. And then, slowly, ever so slowly, Sukuna grinned.

"You’re not afraid of me," he said. It wasn’t a question.

You exhaled, long and slow. "Should I be?"

His grin widened, sharp and wicked. "Yes."

For the first time in a long, long while, something stirred in your chest. Not fear. Not anger. Something that made your fingers twitch with anticipation.

Your heart beat steady, unfazed. You took a step forward, just enough to challenge, just enough to provoke. His grin didn’t falter. If anything, he looked pleased.

"You’ve killed my employer," you said. "So now, I suppose I’ll have to settle for a different prize instead."

Sukuna's laughter rang through the night, rich and full, the sound of a man who had not been entertained like this in centuries.

"And what would that be?" he grinned, blood coating his teeth before he licked it off. 

“Your head.”

The first strike was fast. Not fast enough to be unexpected, but fast. A blade aimed for his throat, smooth and silent. Sukuna leaned back just enough for it to miss, feeling the edge of it whisper against his skin. No hesitation, no wasted movement. This wasn’t some arrogant fool swinging wildly—this was a trained killer, someone who knew how to strike to end a fight, not prolong it.

Sukuna’s grin widened. Good.

His own arm shot forward, one of four, grabbing at your wrist. He expected resistance, a twist to break free, maybe a counter—what he didn’t expect was for the stranger to step into his grip, moving with him instead of against him, using the momentum to spin a dagger toward his ribs.

Clever. Sukuna barely avoided the stab, using a second hand to shove him back. He was enjoying this. A rarity.

Sukuna grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “You’re quick.”

You smirked. “You’re slow.”

That wiped the grin off his face—a scowl replacing it. Then, he lunged.

His elbow slammed toward your ribs, but you twisted, feeling the heat of his skin just barely graze yours before you ducked low, shifting your weight to avoid the claws swiping at your throat. You countered with a kick, aiming for his knee, but he caught your ankle mid-strike, twisting your leg to throw you off balance.

You didn’t fight it. You let him pull you off your feet—because as he did, his grip loosened, and that was all you needed. You bent at the last second, twisting unnaturally in the air, and slammed your palm against the side of his head as you used the momentum to break free. Sukuna staggered back half a step. Just half a step.

But you saw it. His eyes gleamed in the dim light, his sharp grin curling wider. “Not bad.”

“I know,” you said easily. And then he hit you.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been struck in this fight, and it wouldn’t be the last.

His hand shot into your ribs, raw power ripping through your flesh and organs like paper. But instead of pulling away—like anyone with common sense would—you leaned forward.

The pain of the stab hit your entire body like a death knell, making you hiss in pain. You felt the bones beneath your skin break, felt the heat of torn flesh, but it didn’t matter. Because it put you exactly where you wanted to be. You grinned, lips parting just enough to whisper, “Got you.”

Sukuna’s eyes widened, the briefest flicker of surprise.

You dropped your blade before using your first pair of hands to grab Sukuna’s arm and pulling it into you, until his hand went through you, blood coated his hand as it emerged from your back. Right before your extra limbs surged from their hiding place, bursting forth in a blur of motion. The additional arms wrapped around him, slamming into his flesh with the precision of a predator finally sinking its claws into its prey.

You felt flesh tear beneath your fingers, watched as his blood splattered against the ground. It was like two rabid dogs, two survivors, ripping each other apart by their necks. A perfect pair, no?

He snarled, not in pain, but in exhilaration. You could see it—the raw thrill in his expression, the unhinged excitement of someone who had finally found a fight worth having. But you didn’t let up.

You pressed forward, extra limbs moving in perfect harmony with your own, a seamless blend of attack and defense. You were faster now, stronger, your movements unhindered by the usual limitations of human anatomy.

Sukuna adapted quickly. He fought like a beast, like a demon given flesh, and yet there was intelligence in his strikes, a predator’s cunning in the way he shifted.

Blow after blow, you clashed. The estate around you had long since faded from thought. There was only this moment, this fight, this exhilarating, intoxicating rush of battle.

Until finally—

His attacks met your defenses, his strikes clashed against yours, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you reached an impasse.

Neither of you could land a fatal blow.

The taste of blood lingered in the air, thick and heady, as Sukuna rolled his shoulders. His wounds were already knitting back together, flesh stitching itself back into place with unnatural ease. It had been a long time since he’d bled like this—longer still since anyone had managed to hold their ground against him.

And yet, despite the thrill of the fight, his amusement had started to wane.

He clicked his tongue, shaking off the blood from his fingers before turning on his heel, stepping over the ruined bodies that littered the ground. The estate was nothing but a corpse-strewn ruin now, silent save for the crackling of fires still burning in the distance.

"Annoying," he muttered under his breath, not bothering to glance back at you.

You hadn't died, which was already irritating enough. But beyond that, you had the nerve to grin at him, to tease him mid-fight like this was all some kind of game. The sheer audacity. He exhaled sharply, already deciding it wasn’t worth his time anymore.

"I'll kill you next time," he called over his shoulder, his tone almost lazy, as if this was a mere promise rather than a threat.

And then he walked away. That should have been the end of it. It wasn't. Because not even a few steps later, he heard something that made his brow twitch.

Footsteps. Light, almost soundless. But they were there. Following him.

He stopped.

The footsteps stopped.

He resumed.

The footsteps resumed.

Sukuna’s jaw tightened.

Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head just enough to catch sight of you out of the corner of his crimson eyes. There you were, walking at a perfectly casual pace, the first pair of arms behind your head as the other two pairs were tucked into your yukata, as if you hadn’t just been fighting him to the death minutes ago.

Annoying. That was what you were.

Not impressive. Not worthy. Just a nuisance who had managed to worm his way past his usual boredom, wriggling there like a splinter he couldn’t quite dig out. Yeah, that was it. Definitely. (not)

He stared. You smiled. Multiple pairs of eyes blinking right back at each other.

His fingers twitched. Then, without a word, he swung a fist toward your face.

You tilted your head—not even hurriedly, just a small, effortless shift—and his strike missed by the barest margin, passing through empty air. Your smile grew impossibly wider, eyes crinkling.

His eyes twitched.

He tried again. A quick, sharp jab toward your ribs. Blocked. You blinked as an almost imperceptible shield ebbed around you, reacting to Sukuna’s punch.

"You done?" you finally asked, tilting your head at him.

Sukuna hated how unbothered you looked. He hated how naive you looked, he hated how much you two were alike.

His teeth ground together. His irritation swelled. So he struck again. And again. Each attack was dodged or softened before it could land, and through it all, you didn’t stop smiling.

"Quit dodging, bastard."

"Then stop trying to hit me."

Sukuna let out a low growl, his patience officially gone. His hands blurred in rapid succession—right hook, left jab, a strike from his lower set of arms, followed by a quick kick—each one aimed to throw you off, to catch you when you least expected it.

And yet, every single strike either missed or failed to deal any real damage.

You grinned. "This is fun."

"It is NOT." Sukuna bit out. This was ridiculous.

He had carved through entire armies, crushed the strongest warriors, slaughtered men like they were insects beneath his heel. And yet, here he was, brawling with you in the middle of a dirt road like some petty street fight—and losing, if only in terms of patience.

At this point, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill you or just throw you into a river and see if you floated. He stopped abruptly, his shoulders rising and falling with controlled breaths. "Fine."

You tilted your head. "Fine?"

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "Do whatever the hell you want. Just—stop talking." Your grin widened.

Sukuna grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath and resumed walking, pretending you weren’t there. But he knew you were.

And somehow, despite everything—despite the irritation bubbling beneath his skin, despite the exhaustion creeping at the edges of his mind—he found himself almost entertained. Almost.

The wind was sharp tonight, cutting through the trees like a whisper of ghosts. It carried the scent of blood and frost, mingling in the crisp Heian air, yet despite the eerie quiet of the frozen village behind them, the warmth of the crackling fire in front of them made the night feel almost… peaceful. Almost.

A child, barely more than a wisp of a thing, pale as the frost that still clung stubbornly to their clothes. Silent, observant, and eerily composed for someone their age, considering the way Sukuna and you had found them—crouching in the center of an entire village turned to ice, their expression as blank as the frozen corpses surrounding them.

Most children would have screamed. Ran. Cried for their parents. But not this one, not as if they had any more parents to run to.

No, they had simply blinked up at the two of you, completely unaffected by your presence—the two most dangerous men in the Heian era standing before them, drenched in the remnants of battle, destruction lingering in the air around you like a storm.

Sukuna, ever the skeptic, had initially deemed them useful only for their abilities. "Would keep the meat from spoiling," he had muttered with a smirk, clearly pleased with the idea of a walking icebox. But you? You had seen it immediately—the spark of something familiar in Uraume’s gaze, the way they looked at you both like… like you weren’t monsters. This kid was just like you and Sukuna.

And somehow, against all logic, against the natural order of things, the two of you had kept it. Uraume, it told you its name.

A ‘demon’. A half-curse. And a child who had slaughtered an entire village without meaning to. Sounds like a start to a very, very bad joke.

Somehow, it was… oddly domestic.

At first, Uraume had been quiet, following orders with a cold efficiency that reminded you of yourself when you were younger. It wasn’t surprising—survival demanded obedience. They had likely learned that early on.

But, as time passed, something shifted.

They clung to you when Sukuna got too loud, hiding behind your back when he roared in frustration at something trivial. They sat beside you at night, close enough to steal warmth, but never quite touching. They watched the two of you bicker with the quiet amusement of a child who understood far more than they let on.

And then, one evening, they called you “Father.”

You had choked on your food. 

The Heian Era was a golden age—for the strong. For those who could carve their existence into the bones of the weak, who could leave a trail of ruin in their wake and call it a legacy.

And for you, for Sukuna, for your little Uraume—it was nothing short of a playground.

The village burned behind you, flames licking at the sky, thick black smoke curling like a dying beast’s final breath. The air was heavy with the stench of charred flesh, metallic with the scent of fresh blood. Corpses littered the ground, torn apart, their bodies split open in jagged, grotesque displays of what had once been human. Some still twitched, struggling to hold on to the last vestiges of life. A mistake.

You stepped over a writhing man, his guts spilling from the gaping wound in his stomach, his trembling fingers trying in vain to push them back in. The look in his eyes—desperation, horror, confusion—was intoxicating. He hadn’t even seen the strike that felled him. He hadn’t even realized he was already dead.

"Pathetic," Sukuna scoffed, his voice thick with amusement as he leaned on a collapsing pillar, watching the dying man like one might watch an ant struggling underfoot. "You’d think after hearing the screams, they’d run. But no. They stay, they pray, they beg." He rolled his eyes, red gleaming in the firelight. "Like insects waiting to be crushed."

Uraume crouched beside the man, tilting their head as they observed the way he trembled, the way blood bubbled from his lips. "He’s still alive," they noted, voice devoid of sympathy.

You met Sukuna’s gaze, a slow, knowing smile tugging at your lips.

"Then fix that."

Uraume didn’t hesitate.

The ice formed instantly, blooming from their fingertips like a creeping frost, delicate and beautiful in the way it spread across the man's skin. He gasped, choked, his body convulsing as the ice crawled over his throat, sealing his lips shut, freezing the blood in his veins. Within seconds, he was motionless—an intricate, crystalline statue, forever locked in the throes of his last, pitiful moment.

"Good," You hummed, patting Uraume’s head with the same affection one might give a favored pet. "Quick. Efficient. You’re learning!"

Uraume beamed, a glint of pride flickering in their cold eyes.

And then the slaughter continued.

You moved like a specter, slipping through the shadows, striking where the light could not reach. They never saw you coming. You were the whisper of death against their ear, the last thing they felt before their world went dark. Blood spattered across your skin, warm and slick, soaking into your clothes.

Sukuna was chaos incarnate, tearing through bodies with the same ease one might rip through parchment. Limbs flew, heads rolled, entrails spilled like ribbons unfurling from a torn gift. He laughed, gods, he laughed, the sound of it low and rich, a song of bloodlust and madness.

And Uraume—oh, they were the perfect student.

"Not like that," you chastised like a mother, stepping behind them as they struggled to drive their icy blade into a flailing woman’s throat. "You’re hesitating. Don’t. Hesitation makes you weak."

Uraume nodded, adjusting their grip. You guided their hand with a firm but gentle claw, twisting the blade at just the right angle before pressing down. The woman gurgled, her body seizing before falling limp, her blood spilling in thick waves over the dirt.

"There, much better, no?" You beamed, wiping a stray droplet of blood from Uraume’s cheek with your thumb.

Sukuna watched, arms folded, a smirk playing at his lips. "Sweet," he mocked, voice dripping with amusement. "Teaching them so gently. You’d make such a kind parent."

You shot him a look over your shoulder, sharp and knowing. 

The dance of death continued, bodies falling like leaves in a storm. You killed when Sukuna told you to, and Uraume followed suit, obedient and precise. But Sukuna too—he killed for you. If an enemy managed to get too close, if a blade even dared to graze your skin, they were erased. Their screams barely had time to leave their lips before they were torn apart.

You were exactly where you belonged.

[salubriwrites-blog]

I was on a train for 8 hours so I wrote smut

I am still mentally ill for What In "Hell" is Bad? so I needed to get it out of my system. Andrealphus is my sweet baby, and this one is for the Andrealphus wanters. I intend to add a full on smut chapter later, but here have some fluff.

I start my Lycawise week stuff tomorrow so I am gonna go stress about that for a bit ^^; enjoy some fluff for now!

UPDATE: Its done :3

You Chose Andrealphus

“Oh shut the fuck up,” Gusion said flatly, shoving Beleth aside. “The daughter of Solomon does not want to ride along and watch you shoot angels all day.”

That wasn’t entirely true, you thought to yourself, you didn’t mind seizing the learning opportunity that could come with being with Beleth. You didn’t know how the rules of the road in Hell worked, but how hard could they be? With his cool way of speaking and not-fucks-lost demeanor, it was easy to imagine you as the Bonnie to his Clyde in an angel waste land.

“Oh yes,” Bathin said sarcastically, examining his nails without looking at his brothers. “She’d much rather sit in a morgue instead and watch you dissect them.” That would be interesting too, if she would be able to take notes and ask questions about how different angel anatomy was from human or devil. And then ask for an in depth demonstration of those differences, you thought with a squeeze of your legs.

“Yes, thank you for agreeing with me, Bathin,” Gusion clapped his hands enthusiastically. He was able to conveniently ignore the eyeroll that Bathin gave him as he turned back to Beleth. 

“Actually,” you spoke up in the comedic lull, but you were cut off by Bathin. 

“You’re both too blood thirsty for a human. She is a fragile thing who could break if you aren’t careful. Angels are dangerous things dead or alive, and her blood would be on your hands if you are negligent.” 

“Oh no,” Beleth and Gusion said together, whirling on devil, both ready to explain how they would take care of you with the utmost professionalism and tenderness. 

Meanwhile, you huffed your bangs out of your face and crossed your arms, trying to think of what to say to get them to pay attention to you. 

Your visit to Abyssos so far was… interesting, if you were forced to put it politely. Lord Belphegor greeted you at the gates of, bowing respectfully at the presence of Satan, brushing your hand with his lips. It put the King of Gehenna at ease when the devil prince didn’t immediately try to jump on top of you like every other devil who’d mistaken you for Solomon. After making several promises to Satan that you’d be safe and cared for, the Lord of the Nephilim offered you his arm and off you went. 

It was when Satan seemed well and truly gone that Belphegor let out a yawn that could shake the pillars of heaven, and dropped all propriety. “He can be such a hard ass,” the lord groaned, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. “Let’s get you to the palace and figure this all out.” Flying over Abyssos, you saw the good and the ugly parts of this level of Hell. It was damaged and razed similarly to Gehenna, but it seemed that places associated with the Prince of lust had been targeted in particular. It was jarring to see districts that had once been for sex and drugs were leveled with unholy precision, as if whole swaths of city had been cut from the fabric of this world. 

Prince Beelzbub’s home looked less like a regal castle and more like a warehouse home to raves. The “throne room” was just a large dance floor, and on the stage where a DJ’s booth might sit was instead an empty throne. The Nephilim stood in firm military form as you and the lord burst through the iron double doors.

“Gentlemen,” he said darkly, eyes narrowing at the three devils as though he knew that he had just missed catching them in the middle of something naughty. “I present to you the Daughter of Solomon. She is here on special orders from the King’s regent, and one of you will- wait.” You started as he raised a finger and counted out the handsome devils in front of him. “Where is Andrealphus?”

“Hunting, my lord,” one of the dark haired ones replied, bowing his head as he spoke. “We tried to summon him but… You know how he gets.” 

Thinking to himself, Lord Belphegor counted the three men out one more time before sighing tiredly. “I will address him myself when he returns. In the meantime,” he paused again to yawn, and the three devils looked at you for your response. You didn’t know how to respond, this was a Lord of Hell yawning, what were you going to do? Call Sitri to smite him down for his disrespect? Believing you knew better, you just smiled placidly as the Lord finished. “I will leave the three of you to decide who will tend to the Daughter of Solomon. I need to rest.” 

“Oh wait, what?” You asked after him, now deciding that this was the time to step out of line. You weren’t so sure about being left alone in a room of three, good looking veterans of war, who were also devilishly watching you. 

It wasn’t so bad, you decided as you sat on the edge of the stage, one elbow on your knee as you watched them fight. Who would be your personal servant, guide, and whatever else you needed? Watching them argue among themselves that they knew better than the other about your preferences to pass the time. Even though none of them had even spoken to you yet. As you were wondering when they would notice that you had just left, a pair of shoes scuffed over the stage. The steps were shambling, as if whoever it was was feeling for the way forward. Looking over your shoulder, your face twisted embarrassingly into awe at the creature approaching. 

He was tall with gorgeous hair contained into a singular, bloody braid. His all black attire contrasted like night and day against his pale skin, along with the dark scars down his face. One even seemed to be choking him, it wrapped around his neck like a serrated brand. The damaged skin grappling and strangling for territory at his unblemished skin. Atop his head were dark horns, spectacular as death herself, that twisted like great constellations from his blonde lock. All of these beautiful traits almost offset how upsetting it was to see that he was also doused in blood. 

As he drew near, eyes looking forward and seemed to watch the shouting match at risk of escalating to fist throwing, you checked yourself. You owed this man an apology for having such a visceral reaction to his appearance. However as you uttered a slew of begging pardons, the devil - no, angel? - continued to watch cautiously past you. A pair of wings, angel wings, dragged on the stage behind him. 

“Uh, guys? Why is there an angel here?” You asked, scooting away as the creature shuffled to the edge of the stage. That’s when you noticed what else dragged behind him, something in a fishing net that left a smear of blood on the stage in its wake. Even more angel wings, all of them varying qualities and methods of brutally removed.

Surprise, surprise, the devils didn’t hear you say that either. At the seeming mention of his appearance, the beautiful monstrosity dropped the bundle and took a seat on the stage near you. “I am not an angel.” 

“Then what is this? Some kind of disguise?” You asked, now having the courage to step out of line and touch the thing’s wings. They felt pretty real, so you were interested to hear his excuse. 

“A mark of my shame, a reminder of betrayal,” the man said, soft spoken like Sitri but intimidating and feral like Amy. 

“Is your name… Andrealphus?” You asked, remembering that one had been busy initially, “hunting”. 

All signs pointed to yes, but still you waited to hear him respond. “It is, and you must be the Daughter of Solomon?” 

“I am,” you said, suddenly feeling bashful, he was so sweet and well spoken that you were the one to feel childish for being rude. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Please accept my deepest and sincerest apologies,” he began, turning to face you now but something was still odd about his gaze. Like he couldn’t bear to look at you, he stared past and toward the stained glass windows. Feeling self conscious now, you tried not to tilt yourself into his line of sight. “I got… carried away on my patrols, and lost track of time when the Lord Master Belpegor appointed me to return for your reception. Please,” reaching back now, Andrealphus pulled the net of amputated wings to his side. “Accept the bounty of my hunt as a symbol of good will and promise to do better.” 

He hadn’t even finished his sentence before you could feel your thighs slick with arousal. This had to be the hottest thing anyone could do, bringing you the spoils of their angel hunt for you to enjoy first. Andrealphus stopped to gasp mid sentence as you realized that you were going to leave a heart shaped finish on the wood, and you wondered if he may have sensed what he was doing to you. Still, you tried to play it cool, if only he would look at you, especially after all this back and forth. 

“This is beautiful, but these are a little big for me to just carry around for myself,” you laughed, and his eyes finally looked closer in your direction. It was the vacancy in his eyes that made you squint and ask yourself out loud. “Are you… blind?”

At the same time, the entity was plucking dozens of feathers from one of the larger wings, gathering them up in an elegant handful. He held them out for you, shoving his hand almost too close for comfort. “Show me where you’d like to be decorated, then.” 

Andrealphus’ laughter was hard to hear over the still bickering that you were no longer following. “I am, but don’t worry, my other senses are sharp as ever and help me get around.”

Aw fuck, you thought to yourself as you squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to stifle the smell. It only got worse when his breath hitched in his chest again, and you knew he was catching your aroma. 

“That’s… interesting,” you began awkwardly, looking to change the subject. “Well, yeah you can put them in my hair… here,” reaching you, you took Andrealphus’ hand and twisted his fingers into your roots. “Wherever you want to put them.”

Wordlessly with interest and caution he loosened where you had gripped them, the angel navigated your hair. At first you had been afraid of the blood that stained the fine, black leather gloves, now though you fought to lean into it. Bloody fingertips left a rosy sheen behind as he ran hand over fist through it. Somehow though you were not disgusted or frightened of it, as if Andrealphus was wordlessly regaling you with the stories of his conquest. Eyes fluttering shut, you held on tight to the moan that gathered in your throat when he touched you. Little, probing touches that dragged on into soft caresses with his knuckles and the brushing of the angel feathers. The tingling feeling, like little beads of tickles rolling over your cheeks, was orgasmic. 

You waited until his hands were off of you to frown your disappointment that he stopped. “Well, if I’m going to be decorated, it would make sense that you match me.” 

His eyebrows creased downward at your proposal, but sat still as you took his braid between your fingers. The handsome devil’s eyes closed the same way as yours had, and he put his hands in plain sight, folded up tight over his lap. As if he was showing you that he was remaining chaste. It was a good sign as you fixed the bloodied and mangled feathers into his hair, sometimes even sorting through the wings that he had brought you to find softer downs. Maybe you could have him take you to where the angel’s bodies had fallen and he could kiss you on a bed of their bones. 

“How do I look?” Andrealphus asked when your hands reluctantly pulled back, touching his braid to feel where you had adorned him. 

The blood was the perfect contrast to his monochrome look, but you couldn’t just say that out loud. “You look nice,” is what you said instead. 

“How do you look?” He asked second, smiling wide with too many teeth as you swooned. At this rate, you were going to leave a permanent water stain from your sex because of this angel. “Describe yourself for me.”

“Uhm,’ you started, running your hand over your face as if trying to remember your features. “I have purple hair, it’s long.” 

Angling his body to face you, Andrealphus propped his chin on his elbows and smiled dumbly at you while you detailed your futures. Where your moles were, your stretch marks, and your scars, you listed them all and he painted a picture of your beauty. 

“So,” you said after you finished, dropping your hands slowly from your face. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to try and sneak your fingers across the little space between you and touch him. “Now that I’ve done that; how do you think I look?”

“Hm,” he said critically, deliberating heavily before giving you that wide smile like a shark. “You look nice.” 

Once again you got annoyed at how the three devils still fighting overpowered his laugh, and you whipped to glare at them. Were they even arguing about you anymore?

“Would you take me away from here?” You asked the fourth devil, expanding your hand bravely now, clasping your palms together. “They are too loud and frankly, I don’t like any of them.” 

“You don’t wish for any of them to be your guardian in the Abyssos?” He asked, seemingly surprised even though Andrealphus was helping you to your feet. Feeling for the ends of it, the angel dragged the bag of disembodied wings with you off stage. 

“No, I choose you.” You said confidently, wondering how long it would take for them to notice that you were gone. Sooner than you expected, as the throne room’s metal door hadn’t closed yet when Andrealphus laughed again. You heard this one, and your belly tightened at his soft tenor. It was not like the deep voices of the other devils, rolling like thunder and crashing like waves. He reminded you of the wind blowing iridescent fields of grain on a clear day. He almost bumped into you when you stopped to shudder. 

“They’re arguing again.” He explained, pulling his black leather gloves away to reveal delicate fingers, long and spindly. 

“What about now?” You asked, watching him stretch an arm out for you to take, just as Lord Belphegor had. 

“They’re blaming each other for not realizing you’ve left.” 

“Well,” stunned silence fell over you as Andrealphus opened his wings, which were also blood stained. They didn’t look to be in much better shape than the wings that he had dropped at your feet. “No one was stopping them from talking to me but themselves so, their loss… are you going to carry me?” 

“I can, if you want, or we can walk,” the angel offered, seeming to strain as he lifted the wings and stretched them as though they were weights. 

“Why don’t we walk? I can lead the way,” you decided and as though he had already made up his mind, watched as Andrealphus approached you with an outstretched hand.

“Will you be my eyes, please? Once we get to the square I’ll know where we are and can show you around.”

This first day in Abyssos so far was nowhere near your original expectation, but after the rough start it wasn’t so bad. At least now you felt like you could engage in a conversation instead of just being the topic. Holding his long fingers, you led the way down the steps from the house of Beelzbub, counting out the steps for Andrealphus so that he wouldn’t stumble. You were surprised by how easily he kept up with you, and how easily he clung to you. 

“What are you seeing?” He asked simply. “No one has ever told me what Abyssos looks like. I want to know what this place is like through your eyes.”

Oh Andrealphus, you thought to yourself as your stomach tightened again with feeling. Keep asking me things like that and I’m gonna show you a whole slew of new things. You didn’t say that, though. Instead you held a hand to your eyes and looked far over the rooftops. 

“All of the rooftops are flat, with furniture and bars. The windows are full length to let the sunlight in.”

[breyito]

Raze your past, forge your future

TITLE: Raze your past, forge your future AUTHOR/ARTIST: @breyito (read also on AO3) SUMMARY: When Jason first got back to Gotham and put that bomb under the Batmobile, he didn't change his mind. WORD COUNT: 1,151 FANDOM: Batman - All Media Types | Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010) | Red Hood: Lost Days | Batman (Comics) RELATIONSHIPS: Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd & Damian | WayneJason Todd & Bruce Wayne TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: Jason Todd-centric, Jason Todd Deserves Better, BAMF Jason Todd, Dead Joker RATING: Teen and up ADDITIONAL NOTES: Hello again! LONG time no see lmao New series, huge love for my favorite character lol Today I'm in a much better mood than usual, so you get some humor, some vengance and some fluff! (It's been such a long time since I've written fluff omg) Enjoy!

When Jason first got back to Gotham and put that bomb under the Batmobile, he came this close to changing his mind, to let all the effort he spent crawling under the chassis of that monster of a car go to waste. His fingers clenched and his fists shook and he almost threw the remote far away from him the minute he saw Batman emerging from the shadows. But, in the end, he didn't. And he thanked his lucky stars he hadn’t smashed that control to bits the moment he decided Bruce wasn’t dying tonight. 

Now, that was mainly because Joker was out of Arkham (again) and Batman and his new Robin were on the case (again). The new Dynamic Duo had just arrested him and locked him in the cage in the back of the car and...well, Jason was only human, but he recognized the signs of a heaven sent gift. He saw the perfect opportunity and took it. How could he possibly refuse this? Not only would the bomb get rid of that pest , it would also scare the cuckoo birdie to high heaven and it would drive Batman crazy . He would obsess over the bomb and how it bypassed his security, how he didn't notice anything amiss, how vulnerable his system was, how it could have ended his and his little cuckoo’s lives…but mostly, he would wonder, forever (or until Jason revealed himself) , who had done it.

He needed to create a quick distraction on their way out of the city. Jason knew the route they would take like the palm of his hand, so it wasn’t difficult to steal a bike and surpass them, to gather supplies. His info on the comings and goings of the city might not be up to par with the Bats, but he had done his homework and read up about it on his way here. And he knew exactly which happy trigger thugs were gonna help him kill the clown.

A couple of quick blown up Molotov cocktails in between those gang territories and the goons were going at it with gusto. Batman, being the meddling nosy bastard he is, had to leave the car to minimize loss of life. But he also left cuckoo-Robin behind. So Jason needed to up his game. He did this by throwing a Molotov filled with sand and dish soap directly at the Bat, so that it clung to whatever material the new uniforms were made of. 

Of course, Robin immediately jumped to his aid. The only reason he didn't barbecue the cuckoo bird too was that he wanted all the attention to be on the clown's death, and nothing else, the cuckoo-Robin was just so lucky tonight. . 

“One way ticket to Hell, coming right up.” As soon as the kid was out of range Jason activated the bomb. “Rest in pieces but never in peace.”

The Batmobile went flying sky high and the charred clown's body was expelled from the windows (as in, from several windows because the corpse was in several parts) to complete and utter silence. The whole city went deadly quiet for a whole minute. He could practically feel the disbelief everyone exuded when that fuckers head (green hair unmistakable) went thud-thud-roll until it stopped at Batman’s left boot. Not even in his dreams the outcome could have been better, it was like it had been rehearsed or some shit. 

Jason had to stay very still and very silent, swallowing up his laughter at the two heros’ faces. Then the ambulances came and the chaos re-started. Jason bolted from the apartment window he had been waiting on and onto his bike and lost himself in the crowd trying to flee the scene as to not be next (ah, gotta love the old Gotham’s instinct to go to ground and mind your own business when the Bat was on the scene and causing explosions) to one of his safe houses.

He had had four he was sure no one knew about, having set them up as an exercise in stealth and backup plans, and this was the nearest and most complete one. He plugged the ancient computer there and linked it to several proxy servers to make sure it couldn’t be traced back to this address (at least not that quickly). Reaching into his jacket, pulled several credit cards he had ‘liberated’ from assholes since he had landed in Gotham (it was instinct, alright? It’s not like any of them will actually miss the money that much) and he bought half a dozen suspicious plane tickets to several destinations for that night. Still, he cleaned up every trace of Bat related stuff in the apartment, leaving it looking like a normal space instead of a husk, just in case. By then, it was already mid morning, so he left for another one of his safe houses. He hunkered down there and sneaked his way out of Gotham into Bludhaven three days later. From there he took a train to New York, mingling with a bunch of college students. From New York he flew to England, on the periphery of a similar-looking family.  Once in England he slept for almost a day and then took another plane to Nepal and then, finally , managed to get to Nanda Parbat. And to Talia. 

Much to his surprise, he had managed to impress her. Ra's too, although the old goat wouldn’t admit it (still, Jason could feel the assessing looks the man threw his way; it always made the hair on his neck stand up). As a reward for killing Batman's ‘greatest enemy’ right under his nose and getting away with it, he got to choose his training and teachers within the League of Shadows and outside of it. 

But best of all, he got introduced to Damian and became an older brother. His murder tour went way better with a little brother to impress. He took more breaks to be able to play with his baby brother and teach him some things here and there.  Damian was an entitled little shit, but had a soft soul that he showed only to those he loved (and to animals, he just loved animals) and Jason quickly became one of those. He cherished the time spent with his new little family, and after every monstrous teacher he got rid of, he could rest and recover with them. 

Without the menacing shadow of his murderer closing in on him and the knowledge that even without his father’s love he still has worth, his time in the All-Caste was much more healing. His favorite memory turns out to be the first time he woke up from a nightmare in the middle of the night to Talia singing a lullaby in Arabic and Damian on his chest, hugging him with his stuffed lion in the middle.

Life was good.

END NOTES: (Turns out *not* having your murderer roam free can do wonders for your sleep and self-esteem. Even if you had to get rid of it yourself.) (He gets re-introduced to them as Damian’s brother and Constantine's student, when some magical emergency occurs and Damian is the only one in the family with a contact he can reach immediately. Damian, who had thought his introduction to the Wayne family at the hands of his brother had made things very clear -even if Jason had been wearing full tactical gear at the time, it was so obvious- in the ‘Jason is alive’ front gets a blast out of their reactions. Jason is less amused by the tears and all the holes poked into him; but gets over it when he gets to save the Dick, the Cuckoo and the Bat using his magic and his All-Blades. He basks in the knowledge that Bruce’s disdain for magic is also bullshit and he got to *prove it* to him.) (The bomb case goes unsolved for years. Jason never brought it up cause he thought they had put 2+2 together when they got the dates of his resurrection and his methods became a *discussion*; but the truth is it didn't even occur to them. It’s hilarious in a sad sort of way and Jason feels the title of ‘greatest detective’ should be revoked, honestly.)

Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it!

[l0serloki]

hear me out…chamber having a lil crush on you and pretending to be your boyfriend to chase other guys off 😭😭

Chamber x Reader

Genre : Fluff

WC : 1.1K

Summary : Chamber was not letting his best friend of years date some oaf. You were obviously made to date him!

CW : Jealous!Chamber hehehe, fem!reader, minor self doubt for a second but theres like instant comfort so dw

A/N : This was so cute to write. I love this man so much, thank you for the idea my little trog <3

You and Chamber had been friends for quite a long time. He had even recruited you to join the Valorant Protocol with him! To say you were inseparable was putting it lightly. You could always count on him to be there for you.

Chamber was not a coward. He had told himself countless times that he would find the right moment to ask you out for good but it never came. He noticed the way the other guys in Valorant looked at you and it irked him to no end. You were his girlfriend! Well, best friend but you basically were married - or at least he liked to think. He knew you like the back of his hand and you were just the same. Settling his own heart fluttering from your contagious laughter, he got up.

"Would you like another drink my dove?" You nodded up at the man as he made his way into the kitchen. Grabbing a new cup, he set it below the coffee maker and turned to look for another soda. Phoenix passed him the coke from across the counter. "Y/N ever dated anyone? You're her best friend so I assumed it would be safe to ask you." Vincent could almost feel his vein protruding through his forehead. Did Phoenix really think he had a chance with an angel like you?

"Y/N is my girlfriend. She has been for a long time, so yes. She has dated someone." Vincent turned around and grabbed his coffee before making his way back to the communal living room. He was not in the mood to entertain Phoenix's questions.

"Thanks Vin, you're the best." Chamber could feel his cheeks turn red as he said of course and pulled out schematics to work on.

You had left to go work out with Raze and Chamber thought that would give him time to grab some spare parts from the lab. He walked in and noticed Astra and KJ working away at something. He coughed into his hand and their eyes glanced back.

"Chamber! What brings you in?" KJ asked as he got busy in looking through the parts drawer. "Simply looking for some parts for a project. What are the two of you working on?" His curiosity grew as he glanced at the metal box. "Hopefully something that will help defuse easier. Astra has some good insight she got from earlier. By the way have you seen Y/N? I thought Phoenix was going to ask her on a date." Chamber could feel the agitation arrive back in his chest at the mention of the fired up man. "Phoenix did not ask her out. I would sure hope not at least, she is my girlfriend after all. She is working out with Raze currently. I must get going though, I am very busy today. Bon courage mes amis." Chamber grumbled as he walked out of the lab. He had to make you his, and soon.

Waiting outside of the training room he began assembling his gun. It was an iffy project but one good to keep his mind working as he waited for you to be done. He watched in his peripheral vision as you and Raze blew up the target dummies. He felt a surge of pride to see you shoot and move around so gracefully. You had come such a long way and you were so talented. He was so lucky to be able to watch you grow. He groaned as the sappy thoughts went on and his inner monologue bullied him with images of you and Phoenix. Like hell he was going to let his angel slip out of his grasp.

The training had finished but you were cleaning up as Raze entered the room.

"Oh hey Chamber. Y/N is just cleanin up! She should be right out. Have you seen Phoenix?" Chamber was this close to screaming. If Raze mentioned Phoenix's crush on you he was going to lose his mind. Chamber decided that he would save her the effort. "Y/N is my girlfriend you know." Raze's eyebrow went up and she smiled. "Thats awesome. Glad you two are happy. I kinda assumed you two were dating anyways. But, my question still stands. Have you seen Phoenix? He owes me a new bomb." Chamber almost felt stupid - Raze wasn't going to bring the whole dating thing up? "Uh I don't know. Last time I saw him was in the kitchen this morning." Raze nodded and said her goodbyes as she made her way out of the room.

You were shocked to say the least. Had Chamber just told Raze the two of you were dating? You waited patiently, spying on their conversation until it ended. You opened the door and smiled gently at the man. He was your best friend after and you would be lying if you said you hadn't thought about the two of you being together. He was everything you had ever asked for and more, knowing every part of how you ticked. You did love him, you just forced yourself to think it was as a friend.

"So we are dating?" You looked at his body stiffen next to you and lightly laughed. "Well, I didn't think you heard that." Your face dropped and you felt as though your heart had been ripped out. Did you take it the wrong way? Had you not heard the full conversation? You could've sworn that he was serious. You didn't know what you would do if you had ruined the friendship with some simple statement. Your hands jittered as you looked at the ground.

"No no ma belle, don't fret. I didn't mean it like that! I just have been waiting to ask you out at the right moment.. I suppose there is no time like the present though. Will you be mine?" He ran his fingers delicately across the side of your face, his eyes holding the deepest sincerity. He had the most beautiful face. You felt as if you could stare at him forever and still be as entraced as the moment you started.

"Yes Vincent, I've been waiting for you to ask that." You couldn't help the elated feeling that filled you, leaning in to capture his lips in a quick kiss.

You pulled back and the two of you grinned, his arms pulling you further into him.

"Why did you tell Raze that in the first place Vincent?" You questioned as you looked up at the mans face. Your comment was met with a dejected sigh and a 'Good heavens..'

[cyphertripping]

hi hello <33 can i get a cypher and male reader who likes to prank and tease each other shdhjd like cypher would put tripwires near reader's room just to catch reader off guard, and reader stealing cypher's expensive tea to mess w him? they have a little scoreboard in the common room (the others definitely do not have a bet on who's going to win, nope) and just fluff? feel free to ignore this ofc <3 have a good one!

omg of course!! this is such a cute request 🥺🥺 also i realized i was writing too much so didn’t get that much fluff/relationship stuff but feel free to req back for general cypher x reader fluff hc :)

Pranks (Cypher x m!reader)

Word Count: 700+

Fluff

Cypher is naturally a very teasing person— it’s easy keep people at a distance when all you do is joke

But at some point, something is different about you. You catch his attention and he’s interested.

It starts off in small ways, no different than his pranks to others (a note to Phoenix that he really should organize his overflowing closet, making KJ’s turret whirl around and scream like R2-D2)

But eventually something draws him to you. Maybe it’s because you’re handy— sometimes you don’t even fall for every trip he’s inconveniently laid outside your room or to the section of the gym that you like to go to (though the time you fell face flat was rather funny)

It also helps that you’re not bad looking, or not without good personality. Cypher finds himself smiling more than usual at his jokes when he sees your lips curl up at another one of his ridiculous trips (this time against the door knob and a plant outside in the hall— he was fairly sure you would catch it and no plants would be harmed)

But then it all changes when he leaves to go make a cup of tea in the community kitchen (sometimes the only thing he leaves for) and his special tea box is… off. He notices immediately and grabs for it. 

Inside it’s empty except for some random bags that had been in some tea mystery box from Sage some holidays ago— how the hell had you known those were the ones he hadn’t really wanted to drink?

Submitting to his fate, he reaches in to pick one at random and brushes against a slip of paper. He pulls it out and reads the two words printed in adorably messy handwriting—

It’s on :)

Damn right it was (he definitely doesn’t feel something that could be called butterflies).

And as for the bets…

Naturally, Jett, Phoenix, and Neon are into it just for the sake of competition. They’re the ones who put together the tiny board that sits in the corner of the common room to keep tally but eventually it grows (Raze did attempt to help but as soon as she attached grenades that could still be activated, they shooed her off)

Those four would also definitely help you if you asked, though they’re not very subtle

Breach definitely treats this as a sporting event. Regardless of if the pranks only happen when you have free time between missions, he’s there like the #1 coach, pumping both of you up (again, like the others- not very subtle)

Yoru honestly found it incredibly annoying where Cypher would trip for him (specifically into corners where he knew Yoru would teleport out of) so he’s really cheering for you, in his own quiet, emo way when he has to support someone who isn’t himself (definitely is the type to provide like foam spray or offer to pour pink dye into Cypher’s laundry load)

Skye is the one who finally says after a couple of weeks, “I mean I think it’s great that they’re expressing their feelings for each other like this but I do wish they’d get to it” (everyone just kind of freezes at Skye’s version of “get a room”)

Astra just smiles and laughs (she agrees)

Unfortunately, neither you or Cypher were present and so the prank competition and pining carries on

Chamber says he doesn’t care, but he’s kind of hoping you’ll win due to some of his head butting with Cypher. If you need it for an elaborate prank, a mysterious credit card will be provided. 

Ironically, Sova is the opposite. If asked, he’ll gruffly be like, “Cypher is the most annoying man with eyes everywhere. I cannot imagine him losing this petty war of tricks.”

Omen is just enjoying the vibes, though he does agree to knit a scarf for the person who wins (when he starts making it, he combines your and Cypher’s colors— he knows as well)

The other agents are too busy to really focus on the prank/ KAY/O just being slightly confused but here’s their breakdown:

Fade, KAY/O, and Reyna would be betting on you

Brimstone, Viper, and Killjoy would be betting on Cypher

Sage is like Skye and just wants you guys to finally just talk about your feelings instead of dancing around each other 

[rekas-writes]

Sickly Shenanigans

Pair: Phoenix/GN! Reader

Type: One-Shot - 1,309 words

Genre: Fluff - Sickfic

Summary: Waking up with a horrific headache and a scratchy, sore throat, you realise you're rather ill. Thankfully, your angel of a boyfriend is there to try and make everything better.

TW: None

A/N: I’m so sorry for the silence! I've sadly gotten sickly, so I haven't been able to write anything lately. I've managed to write a small drabble about Phoenix though, because sickfics are great inspiration when you are also sick. Also, I've figured out how people do those fancy things in their fics and I'm very happy. I hope this is good, despite the circumstances!

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

You weren't quite sure when you'd ended up in bed, all tucked in with your boyfriend leaned over in a chair scooted close- but you sure as hell appreciated it. Your clothes no longer felt stuck to your body and your fever seemed to have gone down a bit. Glancing around, you take comfort in the dark room. You weren’t sure your eyes could take it despite feeling a lot better than before. Slowly sitting up and reaching upwards to rub your still sore eyes, you feel a damp towel slowly slide down your face. A fatigued smile lifts your lips as you peel it off and look over to Phoenix practically hunched over your lap.

As you scratch your head, you start to recollect the day before your current situation. You’d been feeling quite woozy since the start of that cursed day, having awoken to find your throat scratchy and raw. Your nose was no better either, that clogging feeling of congestion gripping your head in an almost dizzying hold. However, you were quite the stubborn one. You’d neglected to tell Sage about your developing condition, having decided to tough it out. How bad could it be anyway, it was just the start. A cheeky bit of work and you’ll find rest afterwards. It’ll pass. Besides, today was just some simple training.

Oh how wrong you were.

You’d barely managed to conceal your coughing and hacking throughout your spar with Yoru. It’d only gotten worse with time. When he’d given you a look, you simply waved him off- lying through your teeth about how amazing you felt. You felt like you were practically burning; with your lungs gasping for breath a lot sooner than usual during a hand-to-hand sequence, only to hack and sputter with the intake of air. Yoru, ever observant, simply scoffed and called off training until you “stopped lying to yourself”. You felt mildly relieved, as he stalked away to do gods know what the rift walker did in his spare time, content to just wander back to your room for a much needed, relaxing shower.

Although that wouldn’t be the case it seemed, as you swayed while trudging along past the main commons room. Phoenix was the first to notice you, perking up almost immediately as soon as he saw you. You’d barely even noticed he was there before giving a lop-sided smile and a dazed-sounding, “hey.”

“You doing alright there, love? You don’t seem to be looking too sharp,” he quirked an eyebrow at you, steadying your swaying figure before you even realised you were falling forward. You just laughed, wincing as it tapered off into a coughing fit,

“I’m fine, great actually! Just gonna go shower. I’m just feeling a bit warm after sparring with the rift walker,” you waved the concern off once more, but you were no more convincing than Raze when she stole something from Killjoy or Cypher. He seemed to buy it however, as he just let you go and do your thing- not that you could see his knowing smirk with your fatigue blinded eyes.

Step by step, it felt like your bones were giving out on you- legs slugging along as though you were walking for the first time. Weakness seeped through you, as though it were coursing through your very veins. Your semi-shut eyes are barely focused on the goal at hand, as your head begins to throb a little at the damn blinding lights that cover the path to the dorms. You could vaguely make out some laughter, unsure of where it was even coming from. Hopefully you wouldn't crash into them.

And hey, was the carpet always that close to your face?

As your strength fails you in your sickness-driven delirium, you find yourself enveloped and gently tugged backwards into a pair of arms and a particularly warm figure. Slumping into him, you could only sigh in relief as the kind gesture melts away a bit of the painful migraine that had settled into your stressed, little cranium. It should’ve felt terrible falling into a human radiator with an apparent fever, but the fever chills were getting to you. It was both too cold and a little too hot. You could hear a chuckle above you as a hand combed through your messy, mildly damp hair, applying a little pressure to massage your scalp. It was heavenly to your achy head, and if you had any more strength, you would’ve told him so. He was incredibly good at massages, it was insane,

“So, no more acting like Mr Tough Guy, yeah?” And you could only groan at his self-righteous tone but… he wasn’t wrong in his assumption. He was right, you were wrong. He was right to be cocky, but if he weren’t massaging your head right now you probably would’ve punched him. A weak punch for sure, you were in no condition to be throwing professional moves, but it would’ve gotten the message across. You just settle with a slight nod against his chest, scrunching your features as your face sorta peels from his shirt because of the sweat gluing them together,

“Sorry for ruining your shirt…” you murmured, a little guilty as you realised just how much you were perspiring from your terrible fever.

“Don’t worry about it, love. I can just wash it,” was all he laughed, amused that that was your main concern, before swaddling you up into his arms- which disorientated you a little more than you cared to admit, and carrying you back to your bed. Your already closing eyes missed the way Jamie was smiling to himself amusedly, ‘Of all things to worry about.’

In record time, you were dressed in fresh clothes and tucked away in bed to rest. Jett had delivered a homemade soup, out of guilt for laughing as you almost fell. Despite your denial, Jamie insists on spooning the soup for you- slapping your hand playfully if you try to snatch the bowl. He was truly a ray of sunshine in your gloom. 

As you’d tried to rest, you’d tossed and turned enough for Phoenix to hum softly at you. His hand had moved to pet your head, softly singing a tune he’d gotten stuck in his head lately. His voice soothed the restlessness with ease, like some miracle drug; it always somehow made you feel at peace. A fact he knew from how often you’d gushed about his particular talents.

Blinking at the memories, a small smile growing on your face, you took a deep breath in while your nose was still clear. You felt marginally better than you did last night, your symptoms having died down a little as soon as they had risen. The sun had begun to stream through your curtains during your little reverie, highlighting the coloured tips of hair on your sleeping boyfriend. Your hand rose to pet the top of Phoenix’s head, feeling slightly guilty that you had made him sleep so awkwardly.

He stirred once, twice, then opened his eyes groggily- mildly confused before recounting the memories himself. Your hand slid as he rose slightly, smiling softly at you as your hand landed on his cheek. He covered your hand in his, rubbing the back of your palm with his thumb,

“Are you feeling any better, love?” Your reply is halted by a cough, making your lover frown slightly in concern,

“I’m doing a lot better than before,” you reassured, “Thank you for taking care of me, Jamie,” your adoring gaze is returned just as enthusiastically as he practically beams at you,

“Of course! Anything for you,” and as he says your name so lovingly, you could feel your heart practically melt. He truly would do anything for you, and there was nothing in the world that could stop you from doing the same.

[wxnheart]

【Ｄｏｏｍ】

Raze Fluff, Not Hell Series - Doomslayer x Reader

Being Human

[myaimistrue]

my gift for the wonderful @lotsofquestionslimitedanswers as part of the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! i hope you love this sweet bit of fluff as much as i loved writing it <3

also available on ao3

Cas has fought celestial battles. He has seen the rise and fall of human civilizations, he has razed cities and healed kings, and he has been the only thing outside of God’s control. Yet somehow, someway, he is being bested by a pan of scrambled eggs.

He lets out a string of curses he would never have even dreamed of fifteen years prior, and carefully carries the smoking pan to the trash can. He dumps as much of the blackened lump as he can unceremoniously into the trash can and sticks the pan, still coated in bits of burned eggs, back on the stove.

Cas is trying to make breakfast to bring to Dean in bed. He’s doing okay, he thinks, except now there just won’t be any eggs. Or pancakes. (Cas actually thought the batter turned out pretty nicely, but when he went to pour the first bit into the pan, his hand slipped—he spent a good twenty minutes cleaning all of that up.) At least there’s still bacon. Shit, the bacon!

Cas rips the oven open, still cursing, and just barely remembers to put an oven mitt on before he pulls the pan out. Thank God, the bacon is on just the right side of burnt, sizzling and crispy but not blackened yet. He breathes a sigh of relief, and sets the pan down carefully beside the other on the stove. Well, Dean’s always enjoyed bacon the most—if breakfast is just that, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Cas figures he can at least make some toast to go with it. Unfortunately, he forgot to buy more bread at the store yesterday, so there are only three pieces left, two of which are end pieces. He toasts them all, gnawing on a thumbnail and trying to convince himself that Dean won’t hate all of this.

Cas has only been back, free from the Empty and fully human, for a month. It’s been a good month, mostly, full of reunions and laughter and slowly but surely figuring things out. He and Dean share a bed now, share a life in a way they never did before, and it’s good. Cas is learning to be human again, and every step of the way, Dean is with him, endlessly patient and gentle with all of it, seemingly happy just to be with him at all. And Cas gets to kiss Dean when he wants, gets to hold his hand and brush his fingertips along the crinkles at the corners of Dean’s eyes, and every day, he gets to tell Dean he loves him. 

The only problem, really, is that Dean hasn’t said it back yet.

Cas knows Dean loves him. It’s clear now—it was clear from the moment he stumbled out of the Empty and into Dean’s trembling arms—and Cas understands that Dean shows it in different ways than words. He shows it in the way he sat with Cas for an hour helping him learn to tie his shoes, the way he makes PB&Js without complaint whenever Cas requests them, the way he slides his hand into Cas’s while driving and runs his thumb back and forth along Cas’s palm. Regardless of whether he says it out loud, Dean loves Cas with such ferocity that Cas sometimes worries he can’t match it. 

So Cas is doing what he can: he’s making breakfast in bed.

He arranges the limited food on an old wooden tray, along with two mugs of steaming coffee and a jar of Dean’s favorite apricot jelly that he did remember at the store. Cas studies his handiwork critically, then adds a few napkins (amidst all the change, Dean remains a very messy eater). The end result looks nice, Cas thinks. Better than he worried it might, at least.

Slowly, carefully, Cas makes his way out of the kitchen, and to the bedroom he now shares with Dean. The door is cracked from when Cas left earlier, and he can see the corner of the bed, the way Dean’s pulled all the blankets over to his side. Cas smiles at how familiar that’s become lately—it seems that with the luxury of his own bed, Dean is loath to share the covers; Cas steals them back all night long, but it works out because Dean puts up with his kicking. 

He creeps in and sets the tray down on his bedside table. Then, unable to resist, he slips back under the covers and wraps his arms around Dean. Dean stirs somewhat awake, and wiggles back into Cas with a satisfied hum. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean says sleepily. “Where’ve you been? ’S early.”

“Uh, I was…” Cas glances back at breakfast, and he thinks it looks measly now, small and poorly put together. “I made breakfast. For you to eat in bed.”

“...You made me breakfast in bed?”

“Yeah,” Cas says quietly, tucking his face in Dean’s neck, enjoying the closeness but also trying to hide his embarrassment. “Is that okay?”

“What? ‘Course it is.” Dean sounds like he’s smiling, and Cas can see it in his mind’s eye, that dreamy thing that only comes out when Dean is extremely relaxed. “It’s sweet.”

“Sweet,” Cas says, testing the way the word feels in his mouth.

“Yeah.” Dean’s still half-asleep, unfiltered and unencumbered in a way he rarely is, even now. “You’re real sweet to me, Cas. Always are.”

“Even though the breakfast isn’t good?”

“What?”

Cas sighs. “I messed up the pancakes and the eggs, and there wasn’t enough bread. It doesn’t look good like it does when you make breakfast.”

“I don’t care about that,” Dean says, a little more awake, his voice sure and strong. “I’d eat concrete if you made it for me.”

At that, Cas feels the knots in his stomach begin to unwind, feels his heartbeat slow to match Dean’s. He kisses the back of Dean’s neck, lips lingering on sleep-warm skin. Dean shifts closer.

“We’d better get up,” Dean murmurs. “Don’t want the coffee to get cold.”

“Or the bacon.”

“You made bacon?” Dean sits straight up in bed, sniffing around in the air like a bloodhound and apparently completely awake. Cas rolls his eyes and flops over into the warm spot he left behind, pulling the covers up and over himself again. “I can’t believe I didn’t smell that. Damn, Cas. You outdid yourself.”

“I don’t know about that,” Cas says. He peeks around the blankets as Dean grabs the tray and settles it over his legs eagerly. “It’s not—”

“Oh hell yeah!” Dean looks down at him with a brilliant smile that seems to make everything else around them go dim. “You got the apricot jelly stuff?”

“Yeah.” One thing Cas had done right. “I picked some up at the store the other day. I know it’s your favorite.”

Inexplicably, Dean’s ears go red. “Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course.” Cas sits up and studies Dean’s face like he has for years. Dean’s expression is a little difficult to read, but he’s still smiling. Cas feels himself start to smile, too. “So this is okay? You like it?”

“Dude.” Dean looks at him incredulously, but it’s good-natured, fond. “You’re as bad as me. I’m telling you, this is great. I don’t think I’ve ever had breakfast in bed before. And it’s…” Dean goes red again, this time all the way to the apples of his cheeks, but he continues on valiantly. “Nobody’s ever done the shit you do for me. And I’m so fucking lucky, it’s ridiculous, and I…” The hush of their bedroom seems to grow, to expand, as Dean glances at the tray then back at Cas with some huge emotion behind his eyes. “I love you.”

Cas blinks. “You—”

“I love you.” Dean says again.

“You love me,” Cas repeats breathlessly. He knew it would come eventually, he did, but this—this is worth the wait.

“I love you.” Dean laughs like he can’t quite believe it, like he’s so happy it’s ridiculous, it’s impossible. “Holy shit, there it is. I said it. I love you. You made me breakfast in bed, and I fucking love you.”

Cas surges up, unable to hold himself back any longer. He takes Dean’s face in his hands and kisses him as deeply as he can, as deeply as he’s ever wanted to. Dean is surprised at first, but meets Cas in the middle like he always does, takes what Cas gives him and then takes some more. They only separate when the tray is in danger of tipping all of their breakfast over onto the floor.

“Let’s eat first?” Dean says sheepishly. “And drink the coffee?”

Cas’s face hurts from how hard he’s smiling. “Yeah. Okay.”

So they sit side-by-side in bed on top of the covers, sharing bacon and toast, sipping coffee between secret little smiles, and Cas relishes every bit of it, every human moment. He watches Dean chew, enraptured by the image he makes: the sunlight behind his head a halo, the holiness of his soft grey shirt and sleep-mussed hair, and all of it, eclipsed the golden shine of a soul Cas can no longer see but can feel—even in his humanity, he knows he can feel it. 

“I love you,” Cas says.

And when Dean says it back, his face is more beautiful than anything in heaven.

[stinkysam]

Yuji Itadori - Stealth

Warning : swearing, Sukuna being a bully

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : Yuji is a simping thief.

Reader : male (you/yours)

You were in Kugisaki's room, both watching a fashion show on your computer as you paused from time to time to judge the clothing with the first thing that came to your mind.

Or to look up on the internet where you could buy it. 

You were so absorbed you didn't notice your boyfriend's texts. 

It was now or never.

Itadori set his phone on quiet mode and exited his room through his window, leaving the lights on to make it seem he was still here.

He crouched down and razed the outdoors walls quickly as a mouth appeared on his right cheek with a "Oh ?"

Itadori slapped it away out of reflex and froze at the realization. He's not even sure if it would've been better to ignore him.

Maybe Sukuna would've left if Itadori had ignored him ?

No, of course not. The king of curses love to taunt him.

"Huh ? What the hell do you think you're doing, brat ?" 

Mentally slapping himself, Itadori spoke as quietly as he could. He couldn’t make things worse

"Shut it, I need to be quiet" 

The curse hummed in confusion as the small eye looked up, as if trying to look at the vessel.

Noticing how Sukuna went quiet, Itadori moved again, trying his best to conceal any cursed energy. Dashing from a wall to another, slowly opening the doors before quickly entering and closing behind himself. 

He made sure to be as discreet as he could. 

Sukuna just watched amazed by all the useless moves and steps he witnessed. He could ruin all this hard work in an instant.

But he felt like he needed to wait. Not now. Not yet. Soon. It will be worth it.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Itadori arrived to your room. He looked around, making sure there were no witnesses, and pushed the door open before closing it slowly.

Without turning the lights on he walked toward your wardrobe and digged through your drawers.

He could barely see anything or differentiate one clothing from another as he refused to use the flash of his phone in fear that someone passing by might see the light and come in. 

Sukuna wanted to speak but he was too immersed. Surrounded by the night, he could only hear Itadori's heartbeat and breathing along the shuffling of your clothes. What was the brat doing ?

Finally, Itadori closed back your drawers and looked around your room. He patted the chair and the desk, but nothing. 

With a whispered "Right !" he turned toward your bed and patted it. Looking under your pillows and sheets until he finally found what he was looking for. 

Your oversized sweat that you used for cold nights. You joked that you could fit the both of you inside.

He placed it by his nose as he breathed in. It really did smell like you and like your bed.

"Really ?" huffed out the curse with hints of disgust and annoyance.

He quickly pulled the sweat out of his nose before taking off his shirt and putting your piece of clothing on, the sleeves dangling off as they were way too long. Stuffing in the large middle pocket with his shirt he opened the door softly before leaving and closing behind himself.

But as he walked out he instantly became the loudest person in the dorms. At least to his ears.

"Are you some sick pervert ? Didn't know you had that in you ! Kehkehkehkehkeh !" 

Slapping the mouth a second time, Itadori speeds up, fearing people might get alerted by Sukuna’s voice. But it was no use, the curse enjoyed himself way too much to shut up

"Huh ? What is this ? Don't you know how to walk normally ?"

"Are you so deaf that you can't hear your own noises ?" 

"Even when running with their eyes closed a lazy asthmatic could do better."

"What- why don't you lick the floor while you're at it, it'll get these disgusting crumbs out of the way, maybe being a mop is what awaits you after all"

"Even the ugliest curses are more elegant. Have some dignity."

"You really are an elephant among men. You call that discretion ?" 

Itadori tried to ignore him. How he wanted to slap that stupid mouth away. Why not punch it while he's at it. He felt so loud. Sukuna was simply talking but the more he did the more his mocking tone sounded louder and louder. 

Like screaming, ringing, echoing in his head. 

He didn't realize he wasn't as sneaky as earlier, the constant talking blurring his perception of his own noises. He didn't even notice how he could suddenly see where he was going.

Wait-

He could see ?

He shot his head up and saw you with your hand on the light switch, Kugisaki standing behind you with a judging look on her face. 

Shit.

"You know we have a vacuum cleaner, Yuji" you said amused as you watched your boyfriend throw himself back on his two feet, dusting himself off and looking away awkwardly.

This time it was Kugisaki who spoke with a sigh

"You can't play it off as if you fell, idiot."

"What was Sukuna and you being loud for anyw-oooh ! That’s my sweatshirt !" 

Shit. 

He wiggled his toes in his socks as he felt himself grow embarrassed, frowning and pouting some inintelligible excuses. If it weren’t because of that curse, Itadori would probably have already been in his bed, hugging himself in your soft sweatshirt, surrounded by your scent as he slowly drifted to sleep.

"Nope." you heard Kugisaki say as she walks away waving her hand in a tired manner.

Itadori was still sulking as he walked out of the piece too, turning his head away as if to make it look like he was mad at you.

You grabbed him by the hem of “his” sweat and pulled him closer, trapping him with your arms around his waist

"Come on, what is it ?" you say as you move your head to make him look at you

"It's your job as my boyfriend to provide me things that remind me of you. As my boyfriend, you have to give me your sweats that you've worn and that smells like you.”

“Especially if they're oversized and comfortable" he quickly add more quietly

By now his cheeks were a light shade of red, and you could feel through the sleeves the tips of his fingers lightly poke at your arms as he fought to not hold you back, still wanting to play the “mad” card. 

You hummed with a smile, concealing a chuckle

"As your boyfriend I should do that.”

“But as my boyfriend,” you paused, “will you kiss me ?" you said pouting with a sad face. He seemed to think for a moment before finally answering, his scowl completely gone by the end of his sentence, smiling brightly and proudly.

“If I have no choice then !”

Kissing you, he pulled you closer and lightly jumped on you to wrap both arms and legs around you, placing his face on your shoulder as you laughed before moving him to hold him correctly.

You turned the lights off and nodded when Itadori asked to go to his room, explaining the lights in his room were still on

Once in his room, Itadori threw himself on his bed with a loud but content sigh, rolling around and messing up the sheets. Making grabby hands gestures toward you while you changed, only keeping on your boxers and turning the light off before letting yourself fall into his embrace

Quickly he started to move again. Kicking the bed-sheets out of the bed and shifting over and over, never satisfied.

“It’s too hot” he finally says as he starts to remove the sweatshirt

“You’re taking it off ? I thought you liked my sweat ? You don’t like it ?” you said trying to sound as sad and hurt as possible

Itadori froze, hesitating, not wanting to make you feel bad before realizing you were playing with him.

“Too hot !!” he screamed as he threw the sweat at your face as you erupted into laughters 

[sl-walker]

Chapters: 80/98 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul, Bail Organa & Darth Maul, Shiv/Dani Faygan (background) Characters: Darth Maul, Shiv, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bail Organa, Tango (Blackbird), Ahsoka Tano, Brody (Blackbird), Castle (Blackbird), Misty (Blackbird), Tally (Blackbird), Raze (Blackbird), Husker (Blackbird), Smarty (Blackbird), Six | Rabbit (Blackbird), Eight | Rancor (Blackbird), Anakin Skywalker (Cameo), Alpha-17 (cameo), Dani Faygan (cameo), Plo Koon (cameo), Breha Organa (cameo), Shaak Ti (cameo), Eogan Truax, Zan Yant, Null-13 | Drop, Taliesin Croft, Barriss Offee (cameo), Vokara Che (cameo), CT-6115 | Kix (cameo) Additional Tags: Humor, Surprisingly healthy relationships, Espionage, Camping, Fluff, Clones telling stories, Whiskey Tango Fynock, Claustrophobia, Panic Attacks, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Hard questions and hard answers, Body Horror, Anxiety, The Drunk Tank™, Dealing With Loss, Consequences, War is hell, VIABLE™, Survivor Guilt, Black ops cosplay, C-PTSD, Kidnapping, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, In-Universe Fandom, Pining, Chronic Illness, suicide ideation, funeral rites, Flashbacks, Found Family, The Ringing of Revolution Series: Part 6 of Witness me Summary:  We get a glimpse of eleven years ago through Vokara Che's eyes, then in the present, Maul and Vokara have a long-delayed talk. Shiv, Tally, Smarty and Brody let the squad in on the plan to save him, which leads to some arguing, before the discussion turns to the revolution they're in the very heart of, which leads to even more, before they reach some kind of decision about all of it.

[netsurai]

@loveoaths​ asked:     what if i told you kimimaro makes nests for baby birds that fall out of the nest and that, if sasuke were to walk across him doing that while gathering sticks or some shit, he would silently hold his hand out for some twigs so he can finish the nest he is currently working on.  what if i told you that.  what then.

i would tell you that you should never touch a baby bird.  you should never touch them, not even to save them because if you touch them with your human hands & get your human stink on them they’ll never be welcome home & they’ll die anyways & it’ll be you the savior of just a moment they’ll have to thank for it all.

                      delaying inevitable suffering isn’t kindness.

                                                               you can’t be kind & a killer.

so what’s your plan then ?  are you gunna raise them yourself, keep them cozy in this shithole ?  & how exactly do you think you’re gunna do that ?  tucked in your pocket during battles & surgeries ?  DON’T  BE  SO  STUPID !  we are murderers & servants & this place isn’t warm enough to save anything, not them & not us.  & they’re just animals.

& two days ago we razed some miserable nowhere’s fields & now all their children will starve !

                      & what the hell do you know about birds anyways !

& i’m not gunna help you but you should know that songbirds like that make their nests with grass & moss & cotton-fluff not sticks, you’re doing it wrong.  look how tender they are with their ugly swollen eyes.  those loud lonely voices.  their entire body just a heartbeat.

                             little living bruises cupped in those hands.

                                                               can you be kind & a killer ?

give it here, give it here.  like this.

i’d tell you that i lied.  touching them is fine.  nothing warm-blooded abandons their young & fallen hatchlings can always be returned to the nest, that’s the truth.

                                                   & what does that mean for us ?

[77marvelimagines]

Whole

Whole 

Charles Xavier X Mutant!Reader

Prompt(s) from anonymous: hello! Would you maybe want to do a charles xavier x reader (just right after cuba!) where charles is captured by an organization experimenting on mutants (doesnt have to be graphic at all just mentioned!!). y/n (protective) spends weeks trying to track them down, and when she finally finds them she goes in alone (powerful mutation is powerful) and calls out to him in her mind and talks to him and he's in such a bad state, & she gets to him and saves him?? Xxxxx

Note(s): Personally, I would do so much for this man, and of course so would the reader! I feel like Charles would have such a strong and loving bond with his s/o, so of course I had to put that here as well. I hope I did your prompt justice Nonny, thank you for sending it in! Please do enjoy <3 

P.s. If the entire quote is italicized, then it was spoken mentally! c:

Warning(s): A bit of language, a bit of fluff, just a general warning for evil bad guys. They’re only mentioned, but still, they exist! 

Word count: 769

“... Charles?”

There was no response. (y/n) was used to there being no response. The silence spoke both promises and deceits, and from her spot just outside the base, she knew she had to get farther in to find him. 

It would have been easier if Erik were here. Or Raven. Or even fucking Azazel. Angel, for crying out loud. But (y/n) was on her own, and while of course Alex was… somewhere around the base, he was not the one currently razing it to the ground. 

Help would have been appreciated. But (y/n) was nothing if not determined and strong, and even a base full of evil kidnapping, torturing, anti-mutant assholes would never be strong enough to stop her. No, they would feel her ire, her anger, and most of all, her heartache. They would die knowing exactly why their deaths were imminent, with no mercy, and (y/n) refused to look back or listen to their pleas. 

A door had been blown clean of its hinges, hitting a lone scientist clean over the head as it twisted and slammed into the opposing wall. (y/n) walked through, uniform stained and torn. It was the moment when she crossed under the doorway that it hit her, and she stopped clear in her tracks. 

“.... (y/n)...?”

“Charles,” (y/n) breathed, and she wasted no time in running through the room, over the dead body, and towards the back corridors of the lab. Worry ticked deep in her sternum. She didn’t have to be a genius to know that her beloved was anything but alright. 

She found cages with Plexiglas sides and steel locks. They were all full, gaunt faces and bodies staring up in either disbelief or fear. They were not who she was looking for, but as she passed, every cage opened as though it was merely the breeze that had done it. (y/n) did not look back as she went deeper. 

The lab was big. (y/n) didn’t count the closed-door rooms she’d passed, nor the number of cages. She was smart enough to know that one cage and one undisclosed room was one cage and room too much. There were too many rooms, actually, and too many cages. They were organized in blocks, it looked like. A couple dozen cages, then a room. A couple dozen cages, then another room. It seemed to go on forever.

But nothing human can ever go on forever. She turned a corner and met a dead end. 

There was a door, and a singular cage. 

The call she’d been following sang high and strong in her head. It thumped as hard as her heartbeat and sore as fast as her adrenaline. There was an explosion from somewhere else in the facility, and to (y/n), it felt like victory. 

The second she’d seen the cage she was on top of it. The door did not open so much as fly off, but it mattered not, because the person inside was free.

He was lying on the ground, and thin. He looked as though he’d been thrown there long ago and hadn’t moved since, if his tangled legs were anything to go by. Stick thin arms wobbled on elbows, and a shaved head with an inch of hair looked up at her. His face was dirty and bruised, but beautiful brown eyes that (y/n) had memorized the flecks of long ago widened. 

“(y/n)... oh, (y/n)...”

“Charles- Jesus, I’m here, I’m right here-”

(y/n) pulled him into her arms and it was like coming home. Charles collapsed against her chest, not out of exhaustion, but relief. She could feel it in her mind, the way his consciousness settled next to hers out of both habit and instinct. Being separated had felt like hell, but being together felt better than heaven. She- no, they- felt whole again. The phantom limbs were gone and replaced with actual limbs; a voice that would whisper in her ear, and a comfort lodged deep in her brain that knew she would never be alone, ever. 

She pressed the most passionate kiss against his temple. Even with his head tucked into her shoulder, (y/n) could feel Charles’ smile against her neck. His chapped and scabbed lips pressed against her jaw. (y/n) could have cried because it was him and that was enough. 

There was another explosion within the facility, this time closer. Much closer. (y/n) stood up, her love wrapped tight within her arms. “Charles?” She asked. 

“Yes, darling?”

“Let’s go home.”

“Oh, dear, I thought you’d never ask.”

Tag list: 

@princess76179 @kalechipps @agent-valkyrie-romanoff @bad-black-angel @pieceofsupersoldiertrash  @chari-a 

[phoebehalliwell]

Centennial Charmed AU where Cole decides that things started to go downhill with him and Phoebe after Prue died, so he rewrites reality to save her, and Paige orbs into a new reality where Prue never died and has to choose between stopping Cole or saving her sister

okay for the record i so incredibly vibe with this ask and i think it would have been a great way for paige to meet prue, as it isn’t the typical like summoning prue from the great beyond to meet paige option, because that’s all fluff and this has Stakes.

i think in this au if we assume all hell breaks loose like continues in canon phoebe should remain trapped in the underworld with cole like the source demanded, and cole kept her down there rather than return her to her sisters. now, Obviously, this is not a recipe for love, but i think cole has enough tricks to just sorta brainwash phoebe into sorta just like an evil husk (like the opposite of what leo pulled with piper in the beginning of season six) with the full intent to leach in the real phoebe bit by bit but the process is definitely going slower than expected bc uhh phoebe’s not too keen on being evil. in this au i would definitely pin prue as the one to go cold hearted assasssin here, completely ready to raze the underworld to get her sister back. in turn i think piper would be ever more manic and fearful that she was in the earlier seasons. i don’t think she and leo would be divorced because again if you’re trying to convince me they’re soulmates don’t have them divorced in every alternate timeline???? but, that being said, i don’t think she would be pregnant bc i think she would have a crippling fear of starting a family bc with her mom dead phoebe gone and prue off the deep end off the deep end it’s clear that all family does is leave you. p3 is very much up and running because all piper does is drown herself in her work as that is the only part of her life she seems to have any control over. she doesn’t use magic anymore, in fact she’s bound her powers, but it doesn’t matter bc prue does enough killing for the both of them. (also paige doesn’t lose orbing in the new reality bc that her innate ability??? she does lose telekinetic orbing)

so paige sneezes herself into a new reality without realizing it, all she realizes is piper isn’t in the back room anymore. but she figures hey you know maybe that was a major sneeze and maybe i was out for a minute or two and piper just went back to darryl’s party. so she pops out of the backroom and there’s no immediate difference and she sees piper at the bar so she heads on over like “haha wow how long was i gone for also where’s darryl wasn’t he just sitting over there?” and piper’s looking at her like she’s talking to me like she knows me but i do not recognize her at all but as i am bartending i’m just gonna place nice and is like “oh sorry no i don’t know where he went” and paige is like “huh that’s weird did you change” and now she’s like actually registering what piper looks like and is like “OOOOHMYGOD WHY AREN”T YOU PREGNANT ANYMORE???????????” and piper’s like “look. you’ve obviously got me confused with someone else so-” and paige is just like “you don’t recognize me At All?” and piper’s like “sorry no?????” so now paige is thinking she’s in some alternate reality or plane or mirror dimension and if there’s anyone who can clue her into where it’s a psychic so paige is looking around like “do you know where phoebe is?” and piper stops dead in her tracks and she’s like “i don’t know if you heard but phoebe doesn’t live here anymore now i’d really appreciate it if you’d leave and paige is like okay well that’s bad and you know offering an apology and leaves p3.

but uhh she still can orb and she can still orb to her sisters so she orbs to phoebe and finds herself in the underworld???? what’s she doing here??????? and she’s like “hey phoebe how ya doin i’m in a bit of a sticky situation here was hopin you could help me out also why are we in the underworld rn?” and phoebe just glares at paige and paige is like “okay cliffnotes version patty and sam’s affair yeah that’s me i’m the baby i’m your long longs sister my name’s paige-” and at the word sister phoebe just like snaps and dives at paige so you know paige orbs out of the way like “phoebe!!!!” and phoebe just dives at her again and now paige is starting to get a lil weirded out because phoebe’s black belt barbie yet all she’s going is just sorta lunging claws out?????? something off. way off. and paige is so caught off guard that phoebe actually manages to pin paige to the ground and paige is like !!!!! hope this works!!! and claps her hands around phoebe’s temples. and phoebe flinches, eyes closed, lost in a vision. she comes to and looks at paige, but there’s nothing in her eyes. paige is like “phoebe. it’s me.” but phoebe just gets up and walks away, emotionless. and paige is like Okay This Is BAD. and when things get bad, you go to the book.

the only issue is paige is leafing through the book and she has no idea what she’s looking for. there isn’t really a page for “oh you’re stuck in an alternate timeline where everything Sucks Balls? here’s a quick and easy spell to get you out!” so paige is just flipping. enchantment spell so she can see past this enchantment? truth spell so she can find the true world?? and she’s like “hello could use some help here!!!!” and then finds herself promptly being thrown into a wall. she looks over to see a woman approaching, and barely registers “prue?” before a bookcase falls on her.

paige wakes up in a crystal cage, with prue sitting across from her holding charged crystal shards. paige immediately recognizes whats up and is all like “woah woah woah please don’t electrocute me i promise i can explain everything!!!!” and prue’s like “okay. why don’t you start by how you got in the attic and what you were doing with the book?” and paige is like “!!!! evil can’t touch the book! evil can’t touch the book and i was touching the book so please don’t electrocute me!” and prue glares at paige and slowly sets down the crystals bc she does sorta have a point but prue’s not convinced. and paige clearly relaxes a little and prue asks again what exactly she is doing here. so paige takes a deep breath and is like “i’m your sister” and prue scowls and telekinetically launches a crystal shard at the cage, frying it. good thing paige has great reflexes. she orbs out of the cage before she can be shocked. so now prue is like. What. The Actual. Fuck. but lucky for her paige is already rambling. “my name’s paige matthews and i was born august 7th, 1977! my parents are patty halliwell and sam wilder! and you never met me because i was given up for adoption!”

now here’s the thing. when patty was pregnant, piper was three or four and phoebe was like two. they Really did not know what was up. but prue was like 7. i don’t remember a lot from age four, but i can easily pull up age seven. and prue now knows patty was pregnant. the timeline fits. she’s just not convinced that the carrot top in front of her is her sister. (she could orb though, so that was a strong piece of evidence for) so she lets paige talk a little more

and paige is like “okay. i think i managed to sneeze myself into some weird alternate universe because um. This Is Not How Things Are. and if i had to guess whose to blame here: it’s cole.” and prue’s like “wow. he’s still a bag of shit in your timeline?” and paige is like “yeah!!!! an obsessive, unvanquishable bag of shit!!!” and prue’s like “well, bright side? he’s not unvanquishable here.”

let’s rock n roll buckaroo!!! well piper is Very surprised to find the girl she kicked out of the bar now brewing a potion in her kitchen, and uhh if we’re being honest Absolutely Pissed Off. because so far this girl has 1) brought up the idea of her being pregnant, an insult to a woman who is too terrified to start a family 2) brought up her kidnapped quasi evil sister not five minutes later to rub salt in that wound and 3) is now actively practicing magic in her home, something piper tries to avoid at all costs. so whatever’s happening right now, Piper Will Not Have It. except prue is chasing her down and refusing to let her leave because that girl is their sister??? and they’re going to vanquish cole?????????? yeah. no. absolutely not. and prue’s got a freshly brewed batch of potion to unbind powers that she’s trying to shove down piper’s throat but she’s really lost it if she thinks piper will ever practice magic again. and now they’re having a shouting match and piper’s trying to leave but prue is forcing the door shut and paige is in the kitchen like this is super awkward and i feel like i shouldn’t be hearing this but at the same time i feel like i should intervene but also i feel like its not my place but also they’re about to rip each others head off so i should probably do something so she goes over to the foyer like “piper. i know you don’t know me but i know you. you are the strongest person i know and the strongest witch i know. you have taught me so much, and i know you’re going to teach my new baby niece a lot too. i don’t think you should unbind your powers if you don’t want to. but if you think you can’t handle them, i promise you you can.” and there’s a moment of silence before piper’s like “strongest witch, huh?” and paige nods and laughs lightly and piper looks and prue with the potion and is like “i need some time to think about it.” and prue’s like >:(!!!!!! but paige is like “no, just let her sort through things. she’ll figure things out on her own time.” and prue’s playfully like “are you always giving me advice in your world?” and paige is like haha p̸̭͕͇͂͑̇͊̇́̽̀͘ä̵͍̪͔́̓̊͊̒͛͌̚ỉ̸̲̬͖̓͛͌͒̅̉̈̇͐͑̐ņ̷͍͖̯̠̞̾̎̂ but doesn’t like really say anything about it.

and piper’s over on the couch in the sitting room just like nervously wringing her hands and prue goes over and just sits next to her quietly with her arm wrapped around her. she leaves the potion in the foyer. you can tell by how rigid they are that they don’t do this often, they’re just emulating the ghosts of their past because they’ve almost forgotten how to be sisters. paige wanders over to the couch and perches on the arm rest because she doesn’t want to insert herself into something that she isn’t really a part of but piper reaches out and takes paige’s hand in comfort. and the chandelier starts shaking.

piper looks and prue and then looks at paige and is like “is that what i think it was?” and paige is like “the power of three” and piper just sighs quietly and stands. she looks to a flower vase and throws her hands at it, blasting it to pieces. she turns to her sisters. “let’s go kill cole”

so piper starts working on the broth for the upper level demon vanquishing potion while prue and paige sit in the living room devising a way to get close enough to cole to get a slice. prue’s talking about how he’s cloaked himself from scrying but he’s never too far from phoebe, and they’ve never really been able to summon phoebe before but now they’ve got the power of three on their side so they can probably bring her to the manor, with cole soon to follow. it’s also safe to say that cole doesn’t even know piper has her powers back, so he won’t be anticipating the good ol’ freeze-n-slice. then paige can orb downstairs, add the flesh, and bring back up the potion and boom no more belthazor but uhh paige wasn’t listening. “what if there was a way to not vanquish him?” “not vanquish cole i thought the whole point was to vanquish cole and get you back to your world?” and paige is like “yeah it was but uhhhh you’re not... in my world. you died... in 2001. shax killed you. i never actually got to meet you until now.” and prue’s like “Oh.” and paige is like “yeah.” and prue sorta just sits quietly for a minute before speaking again. “did they ever tell you about andy?” and paige is like “yeah, he was your boyfriend, right? he died?” and prue’s like “he died right there. he sacrificed himself for us. because he understood that it was his destiny to go and it was ours to continue forward. i never really understood that, i guess” and she trails off staring at the piece of carpet where andy’s body had been so many years before. the words are unspoken, but paige hears them: until now. “but what if it doesn’t have to be like that? what if we could find a way to change things, to keep you alive. i mean, i’m just meeting you now, but... i don’t...” “everything happens for a reason. if there’s one thing i’ve learned to be true, it’s that. paige, it was my time to go. to bring you into their lives to save the charmed ones. this,” prue gestures to the world around her. “this isn’t how things are supposed to be, i’ve felt it for a long time. you can save phoebe, you can save piper.” “but why can’t i save you, too?” and prue just sorta rests her hand on paige’s face and is like “i’m glad i at least got to meet you” and piper from the kitchen is like “potions ready! all we need is some belthazor flesh!” and prue stands up and offers paige her hand. paige takes it and stands and prue whispers to her sister “let’s go save the world.”

so they go up to the attic and summon phoebe with cole soon to follow and cole’s like “paige??? are you fucking with me rn???? die bitch?????” and prue’s like “You Do Not Talk To My Sister Like That” and throws him into a wall. piper freezes him and takes a slice and phoebe’s sorta just reeling in the corner like paige?? and paige takes the flesh from piper and orbs into the kitchen to finish up the potion and puts it in a little vial and goes back up in the attic and cole’s just broken out of piper’s freeze and paige is like “i do hate long goodbyes” but oh! phoebe tackles her and grabs the potion and everybody’s like phoebe!!!!!! but cole’s just laughing like “it doesn’t matter. no matter where we are, we’re meant to be together. it’s undeniable.” and phoebe’s blinking like she just woke up from a bad dream and is looking at cole, at first with a blank stare, but then confusion, and then absolute loathing. “i don’t think so.”

and cole starts screaming as the world starts spinning and with a final triumphant Bang! paige is yeeted back into the attic, back into her attic. and piper and phoebe run up like “paige??? what happened what was that???” and paige is like “that was... cole. we just vanquished cole.” and piper’s like “we???” and paige is like “yeah, i’ll explain everything, it’s been uhh it’s been a long day.” and piper and phoebe pull her into a hug and phoebe’s like “we’re just glad you’re back” and paige is like “lmao yeah i could say the say about you.” “what?” “nevermind.” and then piper looks up suddenly like “did you feel that?” and paige is like “feel what?” and phoebe looks at the her and smiles, tears pricking at the back of her eyes: “prue.”

[readyplayerhobi]

A Court Of Curses

; Vampire Prince!Hoseok x Witch Queen!Reader

; Genre: Smut, angst, fluff

; Warnings: Fingering, oral sex (receiving), choking kink, unprotected sex, biting (vampiric), blood play, creampie, dom!Hoseok, sub!reader, dirty talk, mentions and talk of miscarriage

; Word Count: 29.3k

; Synopsis: For millennia, the vampires and witches have hated one another and war has raged between the two. When tensions flare up once more and spill into neutral land, peace is forced upon the two by the faeries. The price of peace sees the Witch Queen married to the Vampire Prince. One hundred years later, how have things changed?

; A/N: So... I hope people like this. I know it’s super long but I’m hoping people will enjoy. Please let me know what you all think to our delightful vampire prince and please, if you enjoy then reblog and comment! It will help this story reach more people given the issues Tumblr is having!

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The relations between vampires and witches have always been tense and strenuous. For thousands of years, your people and the vampires have fought in anger and other negative emotions with diplomacy almost non-existent. Retaliation after retaliation, until the original cause of the rift between both races has long been forgotten by the general population.

But you knew how it all began. Your father, the Witch King, had made sure the history of both races was taught to you as you’d grown up within the walls of the seat of power in Hekatalia. That included learning the horrifying knowledge that would fracture your society if they remembered, and would likely incite refusals to acknowledge what had happened. For your people were not the victims, no matter how much they tried to plead it after various vampire attacks.

Amongst your kind, there were various forms of magic that witches performed. Most remained firmly in the white category, with their magic innocent and pure. Some gravitated towards grey, with hexes being cast in anger or annoyance but never crossing an unseen line.

Dark witches though, revelled in the more sinister aspect of magic. Shunned by the normal population, dark magic was performed with especially negative emotions that thirsted for power, driven solely by desire. Sacrifice was common, and torture had been heard of. While deemed repellant by witch society at large, the wicked magic performed by dark witches was often considered required, for you could not have light without dark.

Long ago however, millennia ago in fact, dark witches had thirsted for power just as much as they did now. A certain sect of dark witches however, the Vampirius Sect, had become infamous for their experimentations with their magic beyond the usual sacrifices. These despicable witches had experimented with blood and death and a magic so dark that even the demons shied away from it.

The result had destroyed the sect itself, but it had left the survivors of their experiment forever changed in a way that rocked the world. These people had once been human in some form, simple peasants from the witch kingdom that had been kidnapped from their homes and farms as they worked and slept.

But afterwards, they were maddened creatures that had been ravaged by the dark magic that had crept into their bodies and changed themselves physically, their innate magic being twisted until it no longer resembled anything a witch would call magic. Their vision had been enhanced to that of a cat’s, able to see further and in the night, while their speed and strength had been increased astronomically also.

A farmer who had once struggled to load up his wagon now had the strength to throw said wagon.

And their hunger. Oh, they had hungered for something they did not understand. Food and drink could not sustain them for long, and their mouths watered for something they could not understand until one day, they had snapped. And attacked.

Fangs, sharp as knives, had elongated in their mouths and they had discovered something that satiated the desperate thirst they had. Blood.

Over time the vampire race, so named after the sect that had produced them, had gained their senses and intelligence again. Learning how to use their abilities to increase their standing in the world, they worked hard until they had gained enough land to create a kingdom of their own. They used a combination of slick diplomacy and hard fought battles until they commanded respect from the other races.

All, except the witches. Whom they loathed with a vile passion for what your race had done to theirs. And so war raged between the two. The witches assaulting vampiric lands with spells and magic, burning their crops and razing their lands with spells that left the ground barren.

The vampires responded by destroying witch villages, draining the inhabitants of blood and burning down whole buildings with people inside.

Both sides had committed crimes that were eye-opening and horrific, but you considered your side to have done the most wrong. After all, it was your people who had tortured and experimented on their own kind until the vampires were born.

Over the millennia, the original reasoning for your conflict had become forgotten. It had simply become expected for the witches and vampires to hate each other. And they had. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, had been slaughtered through witchcraft or exsanguination over the years.

Until the neighbouring kingdom’s of the faeries and werewolves had had enough of the war spilling over into their lands.

You had been but a princess when the Great Demonic War had happened. The war had originally begun when a break-away clan of vampires had attacked the witch town of Craysus. Every witch had been slaughtered, with blood soaking into the rich dirt while their houses burnt to ash.

Your own father had tried for diplomacy at first, reaching out to the vampire kingdom of Sanguinus and asking for them to try the murderers. It was futile, as diplomacy had never been officially maintained between the kingdoms.

They had refused however, claiming that the vampires had nothing to do with their kingdom as the accused had renounced their allegiance to the Kingdom of Sanguinus. And so the villages and towns on the border of your kingdom, Hekatalia, had waged their own war. It had been like dominoes falling one by one, until both sides were enraged and war had begun again.

Only this time, people on both sides had fought on land that was not their own. When a faerie prince was killed by accident, the grief-stricken Faerie Queen had united with the Wolf King to end the damned feud between their neighbours once and for all.

A demon bargain had been struck between them, and the Gates of Hell had been opened onto your lands and the vampiric lands. The demons had rained destruction and disaster on both sides, laughing in the face of pleas and scoffing at threats, until finally both beleaguered kingdoms were pleading for mercy.

Your own father had been killed in a battle with a demon to protect you once the fighting had reached the castle, leaving you the next Queen of the Witches. The Vampire King had grudgingly met with you to iron out details of a peace treaty, unheard of between witches and vampires. Unfortunately for both races though, the faeries were not forgiving creatures and the punishment was severe.

A union between vampire and witch was demanded, a marriage between the monarchies. As the Vampire King was already married, his only son had been chosen instead. You had agreed to marry him with bitterness, the knowledge that this would save your kingdom from ruin and death the sole thing that had made you acquiesce.

Your wedding day, a day that should have been bright and happy, had been quiet and subdued. A delegation of the vampires had taken their place in the Oak Grove, the traditional place for marriages in Hekatalia, while a small contingent of witches from your Court had stood on the other, both sides glaring at the other.

The Ancient Oak had stood above you, with its wide trunk wizened with age while grand branches arched overhead. A soft breeze had rustled the leaves gently, which were spelled to never die, and you had wondered for a moment how many marriages this tree had overlooked. How many declarations of love it had observed.

Your dress had been customary for the witches. An emerald green made of the richest silk that swooped and hung elegantly over your curves to represent the earth, while a navy blue sash had been tied to your waist, twined through tiny silver hoops, to symbolise water and rings with rich rubies to represent fire adorning your fingers. The white silk ribbon threaded through your hair represented the very air you breathe, and your feet were bare to connect you to nature and the source of magic.

It probably all seemed very primitive and bizarre to the vampires, with their elegance and love for fashion. Not that your people were not interested in fashion, but they also needed a connection to the very nature whom they relied on to provide their magic.

Tiny white flowers, symbolic of marriage and happiness, had been threaded through your hair along with the ribbon while an elegant diadem intertwined with diamonds and silver leaves rested on your forehead.

Your fiancée had worn a suit of darkness, from his black breeches that clung to toned legs to the ebony, fitted jacket with subtle gold trim that sat on his slim frame. A deep, sultry red shirt of the highest quality silk took its place underneath a black waistcoat, while knee high boots laced up along the front had completed his look.

Despite the animosity between your races, and the fact that you were being forced to marry him to end a war, you would have been a complete fool to deny the handsomeness of him. The vampires were known for their beauty, often breeding purposefully to engineer aesthetically pleasing offspring.

Jung Hoseok was the product of centuries of careful marriages, and it showed in the stiff manner in which he held himself, exuding a confidence and strength that would have made you shiver under normal circumstances. His body was trim and toned, yet there was enough muscle to let you know that he could likely more than hold his own in a fight. He’d been in the vampiric army apparently, serving as a captain during the war.

But his face, his face would never let anyone think he was anything other than royalty. A strong jawline caught the eye first, and anyone looking at his profile would get a perfect view of his arrestingly beautiful nose, sloping straight before turning up at the end ever so slightly.

Hoseok had, and still has, a face made for portraits. Paintings to be looked upon and admired for centuries to come. You had no doubt that artist’s hands twitched for a brush to try and do him justice on a canvas.

High cheekbones led to soft, plush lips with dimples that softened him when he let them appear. And yet it was his eyes that had made you swallow involuntarily at the time. Dark with loathing and hatred for not only you and your kind but the faeries who had brutally hammered an end to the war that had shattered both your lives.

But even then, the shape of them had betrayed his inner personality. Because despite how hard your future husband tried to show his distaste, he had kind eyes.

Still, neither of you had wanted this marriage. And yet you had to, for the only other option was the annihilation of your peoples.

The ceremony had been subdued, a blend of both witch and vampire customs. He’d taken your wrist to his mouth, biting down on the vulnerable flesh there with just enough pressure for his sharpened fangs to cut through the surface. One swallow and he’d let go, before biting at his own wrist and presenting it to you.

It had been distasteful, and you’d wanted to gag at the very thought. But it was required as per their custom. It was how vampires married, my blood to your blood. And so you had swallowed the bitter, metallic liquid with gritted teeth before the exchange of silver rings had occured.

The handfasting had occured next, both holding each others hand as little as possible as the priestess wrapped the rope around your wrists and hands tightly while speaking the marriage vows that you had both repeated.

And then had come the parts that was not traditional to either of you.

The Faerie Queen had stood by and watched as this all happened, before moving forth and placing a dainty hand on your entwined hands. With a slightly smirking smile, she had bestowed the Faerie Curse that had ended the damnable war, finally.

Jung Hoseok and you were wedded, and your kingdoms were at peace. The terms of the curse were simple. For six months of the year, you were required to be together otherwise suffer excruciating pain. If you were not together, then the curse would spread to your people slowly like a disease until both races eventually died out.

To provide some respite, the final six months of the year allowed you to separate. To prevent attempts to be cruel to each other, or try and kill each other when you weren’t required to be near, then any attempts to see each other would result in equal amounts of pain for yourself and your peoples.

If one of you were to die, then that race would die also.

Which meant that you were both bestowed with immortality, even beyond the long lived natures of both races. The perfect way to stop a war, and for one hundred years it has been a great success. The crown jewel in the history of diplomatic relations of your continent.

For the first time in millennia, the vampires and witches are at a full peace. Neither side plots against the other while fringe movements that seek to destabilise the tranquility are struck down quickly with an iron fist to keep the peace.

And all it required, was for the Witch Queen and the Vampire Prince to lose their own chance at happiness.

-

“The carriage has been seen, Your Majesty.” The words come from an attendant who takes your empty plate from you quickly, bowing low so as not to see your expression of distaste. Sighing deeply, you look down at your now barren table and take a deep drink of the rich red wine in your glass.

Six months of quiet is about to be interrupted by the arrival of your husband, and it only takes a lazy glance around the expansive dining room to see the quick movements of servants as they clean.

You’re not sure why they bother, as he has lived in this castle for fifty of the last one hundred years, but you presume it is just a force of habit. Any guest arriving saw the castle being cleaned from top to toe. At least he couldn’t complain about a dirty residence.

Standing, you smile graciously as another attendant takes your empty glass before they scurry off through a side door to the kitchen. You have no doubt that the kitchen staff are cleaning up for the evening, perhaps even making their own meals to either eat in the warm room or to take home to their families.

You had long ago decreed that the servants of the castle were free to eat in the kitchen and any leftover food should be eaten instead of thrown. It would truly be a travesty for your chef’s food to go to waste. Jin did not train his skills in three kingdom’s just to have that thrown away.

Walking out of the overly large dining room, you move slowly through the empty hallways and look them over with a critical eye. The stone walls are clean, with not even a cobweb in sight and your lips purse as you note the crystal clear glass of the windows. Even the paintings that hang along the walls are in the best condition possible, each one with their colours vibrant and vivid as they portray important moments in witch history or one of Hekatalia’s many monarchs.

Your own portrait is not in this hallway, but you never like looking at it anyway. The artist, Kim Taehyung, was phenomenal but you simply found it vain to stare at yourself. There was a second portrait of you with your husband in another hallway and you sometimes felt like you could feel his disdain coming from within the coloured oils.

Moving towards the main hallway, you take a pause to look up at the grand and cavernous room. The ornate chandelier, with its thousands of exquisitely cut diamonds, is shining brightly as the spelled candles burn forevermore within, casting dancing shadows around the room in the evening light while the glare of the crystals causes pretty patterns to appear.

The sweeping staircase on either side of the entranceway is made of the finest marble, and you ponder for a moment the many kings and queens who have used these stairs to retire for the evening. There are plenty of staircases in the castle of course, but as the main entryway this was designed to shock and awe visitors.

Which it did, but your husband did not arrive using the main entrance. Not after one hundred years anyway.

Instead, you continue on down one of the smaller corridors that is usually used by the servants of the castle. Years spent as a child in these halls mean that you know the castle like the back of your hand, and as such you know the quickest way to the servant’s entrance around the rear of the castle.

Nodding to the attendants who wait with blank faces, you head out of the door and stand with perfect poise. Your timing was ideal, as the aristocratic black and red carriage enters into the small courtyard as you place your hands togetehr. The four Sanguinus steeds breathe heavily, their dark sides heaving from the effort of pulling the carriage and you watch as servants from your own stables move forward to provide water and feed for the animals.

Vampire coachmen alight from the carriage and you recognise one of them as Kim Namjoon, a long serving attendant of your husband’s who has accompanied him on the extensive journey from his kingdom to yours over the many years. Luggage is pulled from the back of carriage and piled high before the door opens and you finally get a glimpse of the man you will spend the next six months with.

He’s tall and elegant as always, with a stiff and straight posture that belies his regal upbringing. Taking a moment to observe the tall, white walls of the castle, you hear him let out a little sigh before he rolls his head slowly, stretching his shoulders out. The journey is long from Sanguinus to Hekatalia, and you have no doubt that he is tired and in need of rest.

Finally, his gaze moves to you and you watch as those dark eyes turn onto you firmly. Even after one hundred years, it is still an awkward meeting of the two kingdoms. Perhaps one day, it will not feel like this.

“Wife.” Hoseok greets coldly, his expression barely moving except for the slightest twitch of his dark brow. Equally dark eyes remained focused on you, and you noted the tiniest pout to his lips.

Still immature, even after one hundred years of marriage.

“Husband.” You responded, making sure your tone matched his own. His attendants shuffled awkwardly around you both, the glacial attitude you both had to each other causing a strong tension in the room that you simply couldn't see.

“My prince, we will take our leave now and return in six months for you,” Namjoon next to him whispered, a hand on your husband’s arm that stood out from the black material while is own icy blonde hair swayed in the soft breeze. “We wish you well.”

Hoseok didn't even look at the man as he nodded his acknowledgement. Your husband was not rude to his attendants, but you had noticed over the years that the vampires were certainly a little more brusque when it came to ruling. They often thought the witches were soft in that area, but you just reasoned that it was natural to care more when you had such a strong link to nature.

Without any further words, you watched carefully as they alighted into the carriage before the horses pulled away at a frantic canter. Amusement tugged at your lips as you watched them speed off, still fascinated at how many of your races could still hate each other after one hundred long years of peace.

And one hundred years of your curse.

There's silence for a moment, the sound deafening between you both and you're sure it's louder for your husband. He has hearing beyond your comprehension, something that has been a source of annoyance over the years.

Without a word, he moves closer in a stride that gives away his confidence that you will not push him away. There are no attendants of your own here, for it has long become established that you greet your husband in private.

As he stands close enough that you can feel his warm breath brush the flyaway strands of your hair, you can't help the tiny smile that appears

Reaching forward, your hands slip under the black jacket he has on, sliding along his dark waistcoat before they rejoin around his back. Looking up at his elegant face, you note the darkness in his eyes has softened slightly, deep black strands of hair falling into his gaze.

He says nothing for a moment, before he cups your face in strong hands that are ever so slightly cooler than your own. Leaning close, you take in the magnificent sight of your husband as your noses touch gently.

“I have missed you wife.” Hoseok practically breathes out, the longing and want of six months that he has kept hidden threading through each soft word.

You can't help the smile, nor the warmth of satisfaction and the buzz of happiness that burrows its way into your body at his tender words, his hands tender in their touch on your face. “I have missed you too husband. Desperately.”

He smiles at that, statuesque face breaking into a heart stoppingly beautiful grin that lightens not only him but you. Not a word is said further as he presses his lips to yours in a soft, but much needed kiss, your lips naturally fitting to each other after years of experience.

Despite the chaste nature to the kiss, he doesn’t move away to shorten the kiss and neither do you. Instead, your hands move to grip at the firmness of his slim waist while his own slowly move down your body, causing a wave of sensation that has you burning from the inside. Each touch is electrifying, setting your skin ablaze and you curse the fact it has been six months since you have touched him like this.

Since he has touched you like this.

Pulling away from him slowly, you give him a smile that is far more shy than it should be for a queen. But how could you not? He fills you with a happiness that vanishes with him for six months of the year, stowed away with him in the carriage he takes back to his kingdom.

“Come, I will have a bath drawn for you. You no doubt want to clean yourself.” You whisper, the sounds barely heard as they breath against his lips but he smiles all the same. A slow nod sends the dark strands of his hair into his face as he acknowledges, before you are both separating and heading through the plain wooden door.

Inside are four of your attendants, and you direct two of them to pick up his luggage and place it inside his rooms while the final two are directed to run him a warming bath. They pause for a moment, eyeing the handsome visage of the vampire prince next you before bowing their heads and scurrying out of the room.

Over recent years, the reactions to your husband have thawed in your kingdom. No longer is he treated with outright resentment, but more of a bored annoyance that simply seems to stem from an inherited idea that he is something wrong. Perhaps it is because he is always courteous, polite and kind whilst here.

Either way, the servants of the castle no longer sneer in his presence. They are certainly not comfortable with him, but you have noted the younger servants seem to be more at ease in his company.

It is eye opening to think that there are witches who will grow up only ever knowing peace with the vampires, and it gives you hope that one day you will be able to love him openly.

The two of you stand there for a moment in silence, neither looking at the other given the eyes that could be staring. You wish, desperately, that you could love your husband like any other wife. That you could watch him with an expression that says he put the stars in the sky for you and give him sly, coded smiles to make him flush and go shy like he does in private.

But you can’t. Because your marriage is not a marriage of love and kindness. It is a marriage of curses and pain. And that is what everyone expects to see.

Despondency settles itself firmly in your chest, gripping your throat tightly with a grim hand and it feels hard to breathe suddenly. You just want to love your husband. That’s all.

You’re jerked out of your despairing thoughts by the softest brush against your hand. It’s so featherlight that you almost think it’s a insect of some kind, scuttering along your skin and you jerk until you look down and see his hand there, brushing yours in a motion that would go unnoticed by anyone watching. Lowering your hand back down, you let the back of his hand brush against yours as you lead him to his usual rooms, a smile hidden deep inside at his comforting touch.

The two of you had learnt well how to hide your feelings for each other over the years. Despite the thawing emotions in your kingdom, there were many who still looked at him with disgust. Particularly those who did not live or work in the castle. Disgust for what he is, and fear for what his people have historically done.

You wish that you could show them that your people had done terrible things too. It would be wise for your population to remember that it was because of witches that vampires had even been created.

Shaking your head slightly, you let out the tiniest sigh as you acknowledged how futile that would be. In all honesty, you were just thankful that your people had chosen to accept the treaty. Both the witches and vampires were proud races, and it had been a bitter pill of humiliation to swallow to accept the terms offered to them.

Though, in reality they had no choice. The royal lineage ended with you and you were the metaphorical lightning rod of all magic for witchkind. It was through you that nature pushed its magic into, and it filtered out from you to the rest of the population. Millennia of breeding may have made Hoseok beautiful, but it had made you the perfect receptacle for the sheer amount of power you hosted.

Without you, the magic would run rampant and wild, killing witches who simply could not cope with that level of magic. A simple spell to wash a bowl could erupt into the equivalent of a magical bomb.

It meant that your people had to accept the treaty. The choice had been a slow death of madness with magic overloading people’s senses, a slow death of the curse spreading out in a wave or their lives in tact while their Queen remained shackled to a vampire.

It was easy to see why they had acquiesced.

Only, no one could have predicted that in only one hundred years, you would see the Faerie Curse as a half blessing. Half because it had given you your beloved, but half because it took him away for part of the year.

The prying eyes of servants who had not been spelled to keep your secrecy meant that you left Hoseok at his door, a meaningful glance from him telling you more in only a few seconds than any words could have ever hoped to say.

Your husband and you had become masters of conversations with only a glance, words with a touch and emotions with simply a subtle gesture.

Bowing your head to him regally, you turn and force one foot in front of the other as you hear his door close quietly. Your own rooms are next to his, the traditional suite of the monarchy and as you enter them, you rue the silence of the large expanse.

It had been your parents room before their demise, and you had changed it subtly over the century. A four poster bed took up most of the space, elegant curtains of pale silver and ruby red ready to make a private area just for yourself to sleep in while fluffy pillows littered the upper half of the mattress.

You wondered sometimes if any of the servants who were not in your, very small, inner circle had figured out the subtle meaning of them. Silver was the traditional colour of witches, while red was the symbolic colour of the vampires. Combining them together was a subtle gesture you had made long ago to let people know that this was your marriage bed, despite his separate rooms.

Sitting down on the soft, downy covers, you run a hand along the silk slowly and let out a slow, shaking sigh. Movement to your left causes you to look up, spying your most trusted assistant as she bows her head in respect as she enters the room.

Soyeon is young, but her family have served yours now for three generations. She had discovered your secret feelings for your husband when she had accidentally intruded one morning years ago, finding the two of you in the throes of passion.

Both of you had been terrified, worried about what people would think when they discovered the intimate relations the two of you shared. They had accepted the peace treaty, and begrudgingly accepted the marriage of monarchies, but resentment and anger still lingered strongly. It was one thing to consider the vampire prince courteous, but you were not sure how people would feel about finding out he shared your bed.

Instead, she had shyly smiled at you and told you that she was happy that you had found happiness in your marriage. It had confused you at first, the fact that a witch was not afraid or angry of her queen being in love with a vampire but she had been supportive ever since. She even liked Hoseok. A lot.

Hoseok was always kind to her when he was here, and it reflected in how she had accepted the relationship you had. He liked to joke around with her and you were pretty positive he considered her a little sister.

It had been the first time someone had voluntarily undertaken the spell that would not allow her to insinuate anything that could give away your love for each other, and she had become closer to you than anyone you had known previously.

“The prince is looking handsome today.” She says, her tone soft yet with just a tiny hint of teasing. Your lips quirk slightly, happy that you have at least one person who will tease you like a friend would. It was hard to maintain true friendships when you were the leader of a country, particularly a leader with a spouse that was despised.

“He is always handsome Soyeon, whatever do you mean?” You joke back, standing when she gestures and turning around to give her access to the delicate ribbons holding your dress together. Breathing out with relief as the tight bodice slackens, you watch out of the window over the darkening skies.

“You’re right, Your Majesty. He is always handsome. Are you happy he is here?” Her voice is sweet, full of curiosity towards both him and you while her deft fingers work at the dress quickly and efficiently. Watching the sky that is painted in oranges, pinks and yellows, you let a smile brighten your face.

“So happy. I have six months of happiness with him. Even if it is beyond closed doors, in empty gardens or secluded areas.” A hint of wistfulness enters your voice, the pining you have to just be with him normally appearing without your consent and Soyeon lets out a soft sigh of her own as she helps you out of the dress.

As you slip on your white nightgown, so plain compared to the delicate finery you normally don in the day, you watch her closely in the mirror as she begins to tidy up your room. “I’m sorry Your Majesty. I can try to make it so that you have more time alone with him this year?”

You smile at her appreciatively, nodding your head in acknowledgement while she begins to wipe away the makeup she had applied so carefully to your face this morning. “I would appreciate that Soyeon. Still, I’m happy because he is here at least. I can see him and hear him. My loneliness has disappeared now my happiness has arrived.”

A beautiful smile spreads over her face, lighting up her tan skin and revealing the sweet face you often admired. Soyeon would make a wonderful wife one day if she so chose, with her kind and caring nature combined with the beauty she had been bestowed at birth.

“I’m glad. You’re finished for the night Your Majesty,” She pauses slightly as she reaches the door, hands clasped together tightly. “I will ensure that no servants are to bother you tonight, or tomorrow morning. Nor your husband.” A secretive look flits over her face and you nod in thanks.

Soyeon is truly a gift.

The young assistant leaves your rooms and you walk over to the door, locking it carefully before turning to the door that connects your room to your husbands. Long ago, it was common for monarch’s to sleep separately from their spouses. That had changed over the centuries, but the rooms were still designed like this and were still connected.

When you had first married, you had lived in fear and concern for your life at the fact Hoseok had been placed in the rooms next to yours. It was the only thing you could do as a sign of respect for his royal standing in Sanguinus, but the knowledge of him being there had been nerve wracking. You had been as prejudiced towards vampires as your fellow subjects.

Now, however, it was a benefit that you often thanked yourself for doing. Because it was the only time that you could be sure you would have time with him alone.

Heading over to the mahogany door, you tap lightly on the intricate engravings that portray an ancient forest. A quiet acknowledgement comes from the other side and you enter, closing the door almost silently behind you as you take in the sight before you.

Hoseok’s rooms are a mirror of yours, with his bed covered in blood-red silken sheets that look luscious and inviting. His luggage, the griffin symbol of the vampire monarchy engraved on the dark leather front, sits on the floor nearby, waiting to be stored away in the numerous dark wood wardrobes, drawers and chests that are situated around the room.

And the elegant, marble tub that had been brought into the centre of the room took pride of place amongst everything else. It was currently sat atop the intricate rug that Hoseok had bought four years ago, the red and silver strands weaving together in a beautiful and nonsensical design.

It feels delightfully soft and fluffy as you walk upon it, stopping next to the bath’s edge. Inside, is your husband. And he looks magnificent as he lays back, the water up to his chest and steaming from the heat while a layer of frothy bubbles hides anything else from your curious view.

His eyes are closed as his head tips back against the edge, the black strands of his hair sticking to his forehead in the sweat that glistens all over the skin you can see. The lit candles around the room make his golden skin almost glow and you have to physically bite your lip to keep the moan you want to let out in.

“Enjoying your bath, husband?” You ask quietly, kneeling down and placing an elbow on the cool marble. He doesn’t do anything for a moment, but you note the twitch of his lips as he tries to keep his lips firm.

Reaching forward, you let your fingers trail along the velvety skin of his lips and laugh softly with amusement as they open up immediately for you. Hoseok makes no comment as you push your index finger between those open buds until you feel the firm enamel of his fang. His reaction is immediate and you watch with a raised brow as his hands grip the sides of the bath firmly, toned muscles in his arms suddenly appearing at the movement.

Something you had discovered over the many years, was that vampires had a little bit of an oral fixation. And their teeth were a little more sensitive than yours.

His head jerks away from your prying fingers and he glares at you through narrowed eyes. “I was, until my wife decided to intrude upon my quiet relaxation. What does it take for a man to bathe in peace around here?”

His grumbling is light though, the tone of his voice almost airy and your stomach clenches at the sound. Anymore teasing that you might give him is gone suddenly as your hand moves along his face, thumb stroking at the silky skin of his cheek while your other hand traces along the prominent veins on the back of his hand.

“Well...it has been six months since your wife saw you. Maybe she just missed you?” You don’t mean for the words to sound so full of emotion, your throat constricting while a sheen of tears suddenly fills your eyes.

Almost immediately he’s frowning, sitting up in the water and causing it to slosh along the sides loudly. Some of it even falls over the edge, dropping into your lap and causing a damp spot to stick the thin fabric of your gown to your knees.

“Darling, I did not mean to upset you. I have missed you dreadfully too,” His own hand cups your cheek now, damp from the water and you lean into it desperately. The pressing of his forehead to your own causes you to open your eyes to him, noting those chocolate irises so close to yours. “I swear, it gets harder every year to pretend to hate coming here. One year, I will jump with joy when the carriage arrives for me.”

You huff out a laugh at that, knowing that it is likely going to be a long time before Hoseok does such a thing. Relations between your races are no longer fiery and hot, but have instead turned glacial and cold with both sides understanding that they have to grudgingly get along.

People are likely not ready to accept the fact that their queen and prince are in fact, in love.

One day though, you will both tell the world to go to hell and finally embrace your own happiness. And why shouldn’t you? You had been forced into this marriage one hundred years ago, why should they expect you to both remain unhappy in it forever?

Moving away, you take hold of his hands and thread your fingers through with his. For someone who was in the military during the war, and even now remained active when he was back there, his hands were long fingered and elegant. Pianist hands.

He could play the piano as well, and he often liked to for you when he was here. Songs filled with love and emotion that only you could decode and understand.

Taking the cleaning rag that had been left over the side, you dip it into the water and slowly begin to drag it over his skin. He watches you lazily, appreciation in his eyes as you clean along his chest and arms slowly.

“How have you been?” You ask quietly, stroking along the delicate yet firm flesh reverently while your eyes flicker across his face, taking in every bit of him to see if anything had changed. Vampires were long lived, even longer than witches and they healed faster too.

But still, sometimes things happened that could leave permanent scarring.

He smiles for a moment, the look making his eyes crease and look even kinder than they had the day you had married him. That is, until you note the sly look in them.

Before you can even say anything about that, his hands move to your waist where he grips firmly and the next thing you know, you’re landing in the tub on top of him in a supreme show of vampiric strength. Water immediately bursts over the side, the bubbles slipping over the edge and you let out a shriek of combined laughter and indignation as your nightgown clamps to your skin.

The water is almost scalding hot and there really is no room for two people in here, but you can’t find it in yourself to complain as he holds you closely to his chest while your legs dangle off the edge.

“I have been fine my darling. Bored even. There’s nothing interesting happening there. I’ve simply been leading military maneuvers and listening to my father as he holds meetings. I hear that we have finally managed to secure a trade deal with Hekatalia? Apparently the leader was a real witch to work with.” He muses, tilting his head back as he scans the ceiling in faux surprise while his hand rubs at him chin.

You poke at his chest lightly before leaning forward and nipping gently at his jawbone. “Hush you. Be glad you weren’t present for those meetings. That, is the epitome of boredom. You know what I really don’t care about? The tax ratings on cheese. Great goddess, I thought negotiating taxes on Sanguine steeds was bad enough.”

Hoseok watches you fondly as you continue to complain about taxes, noting that there’s a reason you hire advisors who specialise solely in tax work. The entire time he watches you, his fingers slowly trace along your exposed thigh in a decidedly non-sexual manner. Instead, it feels soothing and comforting.

“Well...our cheese truly is delicious though. Do you not remember when I brought you some ten years ago?” He states and the memory slowly filters its way back into your mind. Eyes widening as your cheeks flush, your head tilts down as you lick at your lips.

“I do. It was delicious, I will concede to you on that.” You say slowly, eyes flickering back up to look into his. He’s silent for a moment, and you’ve known him long enough to know that he is calculating behind those pretty eyes of his.

“I do like it when you concede to me.” He whispers and you can’t stop the shiver that runs through you at the slight darkness to his voice. Your husband has sexual preferences that are probably considered brow raising to many, and disgusting to many of your race in particular.

“Still, I’m glad I don’t have to do those kinds of meetings yet. Despite the years of training, I’m really not sure if I’m cut out for this king business. In fact, I’m hoping my father lives a lot longer or he just gives the throne to one of my sisters. Then I can just let my wife take all the prestige.” One of his hands move around to your waist, stroking along the wet fabric there slowly while a smile spreads on his face.

You snort out a decidedly un-ladylike laugh as you let your own hand rest against his damp shoulder. Hoseok is not your equal in your kingdom, nor will he ever be. In the world you live in at large, men rule most of it. But Hekatalia is a kingdom that run by the women more often than not, your father had been the first Witch King in over 1000 years.

As such, Hoseok will never be king here, in fact he will always be your Prince Consort. But in his kingdom, you will be his Queen Consort, of an equal ranking to him. He doesn’t care about this, and he’s made it clear on more than one occasion that he doesn’t care. You like that about him, that he isn’t interested in the power that will be bestowed to him.

“You will make a good king Hoseok, despite your concerns. You are kind and caring. Yet strong and not afraid to bring down justice when needed. I could not be prouder to call you husband.” You grin at him and watch as his already reddened cheeks from the heat flush even further.

His pink tongue flicks out to wetten his lips before a hand pushes at the wet strands of his hair, moving it backwards until his entire forehead is on show. You murmur approvingly before looking back into his eyes, noting the deep brown that has a slightly reddish tinge to it now.

Hoseok says nothing further, but instead leans forward until he captures your lips in a kiss between his own. The kiss earlier had been innocent and full of longing, but this has a decidedly different tone to it.

Hot and needy, with the passion of six months celibacy sparking between the two of you. Each movement of his lips is perfect, with just enough pressure to make you want more and you can’t stop the soft moan as your lips open up to his.

His response is immediate, with his tongue dipping into your mouth and dancing with your own in a sensual game that you had both begun decades before. The dance is familiar and yet tinged with anticipation and need, each stroke of the wet muscle against your sensitive mouth pulling a corresponding convulsion of your inner muscles between your thighs.

You respond to his movement, shifting your body until your legs slip under the hot water, moving so that your knees rest against the tight space on either side of his body while your arms wrap around his neck. His sharp incisors, elongated from his heightened emotions, accidentally nick your tongue. The pain is fleeting and an unfortunate price to pay for kissing a vampire but you can’t it in yourself to care.

Not when the growl he releases sounds like it has been ripped from the bottom of his chest, guttural and vibrating against your tongue as he sucks it into his mouth at the small taste of your blood. It may not be the prettiest kiss to witness, but it is pure attraction and desire between the two of you as you moan and pant, grinding your hips against his groin.

The wet nightgown sticks to you above the water, but below it floats aimlessly while your panties are almost tantalising in the friction they’re producing against your clit. Hoseok’s hardness is pressing firmly against you in the water and you can’t stop the way you press against him, hips moving forwards and backwards with desperation as your stomach tightens.

Pulling away from you with an almost audible noise, Hoseok breathes heavily as he looks up at you with ruby red eyes. “Wife...you taste so good.” He gasps out, his fangs lenghtened to their full length and you can’t help the shiver of fear that runs down your spine. Even after all these years, the instinct that has been bred into you tells you to run.

It just makes the sex better.

“Have you fed?” You whisper, pressing needy kisses to whatever skin you can reach on his face and he lets out a low groan that’s bordering on a whine as you grind your scalding heat against his thickness. His head shakes a negative and you bite your lip in response, reaching down to tug off your nightgown and throwing it over the side where it lands in a wet heap.

“Feed then husband. What kind of wife would I be if I did not make sure my husband was cared for?” You whisper into his ear, kissing along the exposed skin there and delighting in the salty taste of his sweat. He practically purrs in response, his hands moving up from your waist to cup your breasts while his thumbs play with your hardened nipples.

“I have missed this, wife.” Hoseok grins, looking up at you with eyes that should terrify. Instead, you lean down and press a quick kiss to his mouth before moving along his jawline, sucking open mouthed kisses there while pushing at his head.

He doesn’t bite though, and instead one hand drops below the water without you realising. Instead, you feel the sudden pressure of his fingers against the swollen bundle of nerves between your legs, the pads swirling around the bud in a pleasing manner that has your hips jerking and a cry leaving your mouth.

“Oh Hoseok, goddess yes.” You breathe out, head tilting back as he plays with your clit slowly. Hoseok doesn’t move fast, instead letting his fingertips press against you in firm and measured movements that makes sparks of pleasure zip through your body with each rotation.

Moving his head, Hoseok presses his lips to your collarbone and sucks hard at the skin, leaving rosettes of bruises that will have to be covered up tomorrow no doubt. You find it hard to care though when he slips a long finger inside of you, your inner muscles contracting greedily around him as he strokes along your insides in a slow and steady pace, exploring a place he knows well yet hasn’t been acquainted with in so long.

“More.” You whine, high pitched with need and he acquiesces with a dark chuckle, tongue laving attention to a particular spot on your neck. A second finger enters you, scissoring for a moment to stretch you in a way that you gasping and gripping his shoulders firmly before he’s twisting the long digits in a pleasing manner.

As he moves his hand, water slaps against the side of the tub from your insistent hips that angle and move to try and get the most pleasure you can, while his arm moving causes its own ripples corresponding ripples. Carding your fingers through his damp hair, you press his head further against you.

It’s as his fingers press firmly against the roughened bunch of nerves on your inner wall, the sensation causing fireworks of sparkling pleasure to erupt in your body as you clench around him, that he bites. The combination of his talented fingers, his thumb working insistently on your swollen clit and the pinch of pain from your throat sends you clean over the edge.

Body jerking wildly, you cry out in the throes of pleasure as you contract around his fingers with a vice like grip. With your hips gyrating wildly from the force of your pleasure, Hoseok has to work hard to stay in control as he continues to stroke you through your orgasm until you’re whining with tears from the over stimulation.

The whole time, he’s sucking at the twin marks he’s made in your neck as he feeds. Quiet groans of delight leave him as his throat works, swallowing your blood while he finally stills those talented fingers inside you.

Hoseok had to feed at least once a week, and you used to have a servant agree to do it. Over the last few decades however, you just claimed to have a servant do it when in fact, you fed him. No one had ever caught on, as no servant ever wanted to admit to being fed on by a vampire.

It was only with you that he used sex though, and he admitted that it wasn’t only for his own sexual needs. Pleasure, apparently, saturated the blood with a rich flavouring that made it even more delightful and pleasing than normal. He’d compared it to soaking a fine joint of meat in an aged wine.

Licking at the bite marks he’d caused, Hoseok remains with his mouth against your neck for a moment as you both breathe heavily, catching your breath. Running your fingers through his hair, you tug lightly until he looks at you with a lazy gaze, eyes glossed over with the satisfaction of a good feed.

“Do you want me to take care of you?” You ask, moving against his thick length as you wince from the overwhelming sensation. He’s silent for a moment before shaking his head, giving you a smile that reveals normally white teeth stained red while his lips are cherry red.

“No. I’m okay. That was good enough for me.” Hoseok slurs, tongue licking along his teeth and removing some of the blood. You chuckle lightly, your own limbs feeling heavy from his feeding as you rest your cheek against his shoulder.

Feeding Hoseok often left you tired, a result of the loss of blood, and it often left Hoseok blood drunk. He said it was because of the pleasure, which was not only more flavourful but also acted in a similar fashion to alcohol and left him in a slightly inebriated mind.

His own cheek rests against your head lightly, the both of you too tired from your activities in the cooling water. “We should move.” Hoseok murmurs, the sound quiet and filled with sleepiness. Smiling, you heave yourself out of the water and encourage him out too.

He’s wobbly on his legs, but you both manage to get to the large bed where you slump under the covers, the thick comforters hiding you both from the world and making a small cocoon of warmth and love. Hoseok does nothing for a moment before he’s rolling onto his side, tugging you over to him and pressing your back to his front.

Smiling softly, you feel him press a firm kiss to your hair before you slip into a comfortable sleep in the arms of your husband.

-

The first week of reunion with Hoseok passes by quickly, and as usual it is a stressful yet pleasurable time. Six months of celibacy and longing often combine in explosive results in the bedroom, a spell to mute noise often necessary to hide the moans and groans of desire and need that seep into the walls.

It meant that it was often hard to focus on your work, particularly when you had the knowledge that your husband was right there. Meals were often strained and awkward, filled with a tension that your servants assumed to be irritation when in fact it was clenched thighs, whispered spells of touches and glares that promised retribution when you returned to your rooms.

But still, life would not stop with the arrival of your husband and you were forced to continue on with your daily activities. Tuesday’s were for meeting your advisors and discussing the general issues that were causing a problem amongst the citizens of your kingdom.

Wednesday’s were spent receiving updates about the neighbouring kingdoms and those further afield, learning the newest information that filtered through from both natural channels and those more secretive ones.

Thursday’s were the day that your subjects were allowed to seek an audience with you, proposing solutions to problems or presenting conflicts that they wanted you to resolve. It was often tedious, and some days you just wanted to stay in bed or go to your garden and be done with it all.

But that was not what a monarch did.

This was precisely the reason that Hoseok always had to make the journey to Hekatalia, for the vampire prince was not needed in his kingdom to the degree that you were. You, however, were most definitely needed to keep order. Not to mention that you couldn’t stray too far from the Ancient Oak for too long, which served not only as a site of marriage but also as a natural connection to the source of magic.

As such, the first week was filled with sex of all kinds until you had both gotten it out of your systems before you both settled into the comfortable, yet confined, life you had both adjusted to over the years.

Your time with Hoseok was often limited to behind the doors of your bedroom, and you so desperately wished for more with him. As a queen, you never expected to have a normal relationship. But you certainly expected to at least be able to touch him in public.

Your hope that your relationship would be accepted increased every year with the gradual acceptance of your husband. He wasn’t welcome in discussions with your advisors, but he had slowly begun to take on more a role expected of a Prince Consort and to your delight, he was not being pushed away.

But you were still unsure as to public displays of affection.

Which is why if you hadn’t favoured Soyeon before, then you most certainly did when she informed you that she had managed to secure you an entire afternoon and evening free of obligations after two months had passed. A whole half of a day that could be spent with Hoseok alone, which was more time in one go than you’d experienced in ten years.

Excitement had bubbled in your stomach as the both of you had mounted your horses. You had decided to take him on a ride to get him out of the castle, to go somewhere where you truly would not be bothered by prying eyes. As such, a black cloak was wrapped around your shoulders while the hood covered head and a dark green scarf was raised over your lower face.

Hoseok had frowned at the regalia as he’d donned his own cloak and scarlet red scarf, the colour making his beauty even more apparent even if you could only see his eyes, but you’d reassured him it was fine. This was the standard attire of travellers in Hekatalia, and no one would raise a brow at the sight of you both.

He’d bowed his head in acknowledgement, acquiescing to you and your knowledge before a click of his tongue and a tap of his heels encouraged his tall, steel grey steed into a brisk walk, hooves clopping loudly on the cobblestones. Nodding towards Soyeon, you reached out and clasped her hand tightly while you thanked her and promised that you would both be back by nightfall.

She smiled at you, bowing her head down and returning to the castle as you encouraged your own dark bay mare after your husband. You liked to ride when you had time, and the prospect of riding with your husband had an almost childish feeling bubbling your stomach. Trotting to catch up, you noted with pleasure the exquisite picture he drew as he rode with a confidence that told of years of riding experience.

Black breeches clung to his toned legs, muscles that had been gained from years upon years of exercise while his familiar knee high leather boots rested against the horse’s side. He sat straight as an arrow, his riding posture textbook perfect as the leather reins sat in his hands lightly.

Perhaps no one would give you a second glance given your attire, but they might give a second glance given his posture. There was no doubt that Hoseok was a man who had been trained extensively on how to ride a horse, his breeding showing despite the hood that covers him.

It was unbelievably sexy for some reason though, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip breathlessly as you finally caught up to him. Your husband often managed to turn you in ways that you hadn’t thought were even turn ons until he appeared in your life. Even before you’d confessed your feelings to each other fifty years ago.

He looks over with a dark brow raised in question at your expression and you stare at him for a moment, taking in the sight of his chocolate half-moon eyes that soften as he watches you in turn. Without a word, he reaches over and clasps a hand with one of yours, squeezing tightly before letting go.

Smiling to yourself beneath the scarf, your shoulders straighten as you feel a weight being lifted off them. Taking the lead, you keep on riding until you finally direct Hoseok to the Oak Grove that holds the Ancient Oak your race reveres so much.

Due to being a vampire, Hoseok was often confined to the castle even more than you were when he was here. Though he had no actual restrictions on him, it your people were not very likely to accept him walking around freely, and so he voluntarily chose to stay within the castle walls.

It surely had to drive him mad to not do the activities he was so used to,  but he simply shrugged and pointed out that he had no choice, so there was no point in whining. Though you had noted in recent years that he had slowly begun to venture further in the grounds, and he had even gone to the village at the foot of the castle last month.

There had been no screaming or fear from your subjects, and it had warmed you to hope that perhaps they may be accepting him finally. Stil, his lack of knowledge outside of the castle walls meant that he had no idea where anything was and so he willingly followed you with trust.

Turning, you watch as he catches sight of the giant tree that takes up most of the clearing, his eyes widening as he takes it in. The surrounding forest is even taller, forming a perfect circle of protection around the tree that provided your people with life sustaining magic.

The pillowy soft grass blew softly in the gentle breeze, bringing with it the scent of flowers and rain. It hadn’t rained in days, yet you knew the magic of the Oak Grove meant that strange things happened sometimes.

“Isn’t that…” He trails off, slowing his horse down with a gentle tug on the reins until his stallion stops, head shaking in annoyance and jangling the metal bit in his mouth. You watch for a moment before smiling, tugging down your scarf and nodding.

“It is. This is where we got married. It’s a sacred place to witches, and we shall find peace and quiet here tonight.” You grin at him, swinging a leg over your mares rump and landing in the grass with a soft thud. Bringing her over to a branch of a nearby tree that was often used to hitch horses, you watch as Hoseok does the same while looking around the grove in fascination.

“But...won’t people be coming here to get married?” Hoseok asks in confusion, brows creasing and his lips moving into a pout as he lowers his own scarf. Moving over to him, you slide your hands under his cloak and jacket until you’re hugging him tightly, resting your chin against his chest with a sweet smile.

“Nope. All marriages have to be approved by the Witch Court and overseen by a priestess, and there are none scheduled for today. Soyeon checked and double checked. The Ancient Oak is sacred to my people and is one of the major source points for our magic, so it is strictly prohibited to be here when there is no marriage taking place.”

He looks around for a moment, mahogany eyes taking in the impressive sight. You love to come here when he’s back in Sanguinus, the area quiet and peaceful. The magic here tingles on your skin, like tiny kisses of appreciation from nature and you look around, trying to see it how he does.

The tall forest that surrounds you cuts off a large portion of light, sunbeams drifting down lazily through the canopy. There’s enough light here to see easily though, but the Oak Grove needs no sun to look beautiful. The very magic that sustains your race causes the Ancient Oak to emit an ethereal glow, the wood almost tinged in a blue-white light while the leaves are dotted with tiny sparks of light that twinkle at all times of day.

A small smile tugs at Hoseok’s lips before he looks back down at you with a sardonic expression. “Except for the queen I’m guessing?”

You laugh lightly at his words, pulling away before taking his hand and twining your fingers together firmly. Hoseok immediately grips it tighter and you can’t help but feel happiness and contentment bubble in your veins at being able to do this out in the open.

What must it feel like? To love him freely?

“Of course. I am connected to this tree as the medium of magic for witchkind, so therefore I am allowed here whenever I so feel like,” Turning around, you walk backwards with a small hop of joy as you give him the brightest smile of glee that produces a responding expression from him almost involuntarily. “And I wanted to bring my husband here. I don’t get to give you anything in the castle...but I can bring you to one of the most important and sacred places to me here.”

Sitting down amongst the roots of the solid tree, dragging your fingers through the rich soil with reverance, you watch as he stands with hands on his hips and looks up at the arching branches with a soft smile.

“I hated this place when I first came here, perhaps unsurprisingly. This tree was the representation of everything I should despise as a vampire. The source of your magic and the source of my pain being wedded to you. Vampires for centuries have plotted how to destroy this you know.”

He’s quiet for a moment, reaching out and placing a hand on the wizened trunk, stroking along the bark slowly. Biting your lip, you look from his neutral face to his hand. “And now?”

He says nothing before letting out a quiet snort of laughter, kneeling down in the fragrant blades of grass to press a loving kiss to your forehead. “Now? I see its beauty; the strength in its age and the sensation of sheer power it gives. It’s truly a physical representation of you. And I love it, because you love it and I love you. And even though I was angry that day, this tree oversaw the most important day of my life.”

Hoseok sits next to you, resting his back against the old trunk and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, tugging you closer to him. For minutes, neither of you speak in the comfortable silence that falls between the two of you. You focus simply on the soothing sensation of his fingers as they trace invisible words against your arm while the forest sings a gentle song for you both.

“Show me some magic, wife.” He whispers into your ear, his cool nose pressing against your temple momentarily before warm lips replace it. You didn’t perform magic very often, which was probably a surprise to the other kingdoms. But you simply didn’t feel a need, and it was rude to use it unnecessarily. Which meant Hoseok hadn’t witnessed many spells from you over the years.

But you feel like pleasing him today, wanting to impress him with something pretty that wouldn’t pull too much energy. Whispering a quiet request to the Ancient Oak you’re pressed against, you breathe a simple spell under your breath.

Immediately, tiny balls of light drift down from the leaves above you to form the impression of two people, standing together in a handfasting ceremony. You don’t need to explain to him who it is a representation of, and instead you both watch quietly as the couple lean forward and kiss.

“I wish I had kissed you back then, though it would have seemed strange. I wish I could kiss you now, in public.” Hoseok sighs, sadness weaving its way in and you resolve to make him smile. Shifting around, you playfully bite at his neck with your blunt incisors, the sensation probably just a tickle to him compared to his sharp teeth.

Sure enough, he lets out a giggle that’s far too cute for a man as regal as him before wrapping his arms tightly around shoulders and chest, trapping you between his thighs as he shifts. His hands move down to your sides, insistent fingers tickling along the sensitive areas and causing you to almost shriek with laughter.

The sounds of glee and happiness echo around the quiet grove, and you feel a shift in the magic around you. It’s fond and filled with a sense of joy at the love between yourself and your husband. Your stomach twists with cheer at the knowledge that nature approves.

After a few minutes of laughter and play, you lean against him as you both take a breather. He presses a kiss to your neck softly before letting his fangs run over your skin, the sharpness almost a scratch over the delicate flesh.

“You’re adorable, with your little baby fangs. In fact, they’re not even baby fangs. Vampire children have sharper teeth than that.” He teases, letting his lips press against the soft skin there. You smile and click your fingers, causing him to yelp as a zing of magic zaps his ass.

“Mean,” He mutters before kissing your neck once more, his hands stroking along your stomach lowly. “I wonder what our children’s teeth would look like.” The words are quiet, almost as if he spoke them out loud without thinking.

The way you both freeze suddenly let you think that is likely exactly what happens before he’s squeezing tight, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

Children remained a sore point between the two of you. It was something neither of you had ever truly considered when you had first wedded, the thought of sleeping with him abhorrent. It had remained a non-thought for thirty years once you finally got together, until twenty years ago when you had both decided to try.

A pregnancy had occurred almost immediately, pleasing the both of you while simultaneously terrifying you. It was understood between you both that Hoseok would only see his child half of the year, but the two of you had wanted so badly to have a family. Upon learning of your pregnancy, the two of you had agreed to announce it, and your feelings, to both kingdoms at the halfway stage.

There was little chance of miscarriage at that point, and it had been an exciting prospect. A child would surely unify both races, or at least be a good starting point to true reconciliation.

And so at the three month mark, Hoseok had left back to Sanguinus in his carriage and you had watched from your window, a hand resting on your flat stomach. The knowledge that he would likely be back in time for the birth had been a consolation, even if he was sad to not experience the joys of watching you grow fat and heavy with his child.

And then the curse had kicked in.

It had been a heavy heart, and heavier tears, that you had written to your husband. The note had been simple, coded in case anyone read it due to the rarity of correspondence between you both.

‘Dear Husband,

The little bird did not make it. No spell could combat the curse that took it.

I am sorry.’

Neither of you had considered the curse in terms of children. Not until it was too late. Not until you were no longer pregnant.

The curse demanded that you spend six months apart, causing physical pain to ensure it was obeyed. As his child, the babe in your stomach was half him and the curse could not distinguish between this. The pain had not been as strong as it was with Hoseok himself, but it had been too much for the tiny life you’d carried.

You had mourned for six months, until he had arrived and then you had mourned with him in private. There had never been another attempt, and there likely never would be. Your dreams of a family had died that day.

Resting a hand on his arm, you cuddle further into him before taking a deep breath. You have not spoken of children in twenty years. “I think they would be heart wrenchingly adorable, with tiny fangs and little spells that would pop and crack.”

As you speak, the lights spin in a dizzying dance before forming two small children. The both of you watch in a despondent silence as they bound along the meadow sweet grass, a simple and sweet dream that cannot ever be.

Hoseok doesn't say anything for a few long minutes, only swallowing thickly. “You would have made a wonderful mother. I still regret asking you to do it, the pain you suffered while I was not there. It wasn't worth it.”

Shaking your head, you shift in his arms until you can see his arresting profile. His eyes are a low, dull red that glisten in the evening sun that peeks through the trunks of the forest.

“No, don't say that. It hurt, but we were happy in that moment. Let's not resent the young one we were forced to lose.” Resting a hand against his chest, you press your forehead to the warm skin of his neck and inhale the soothing scent.

You both simply rest there after that, neither feeling in the mood to interrupt the sad stillness in the air with another topic. The unfortunate fact, is that no matter how much you love each other, your story will always be one of sadness and heartache, tinged with loneliness.

“Would you like to dance?” Hoseok speaks suddenly, the question hovering in the air. Looking up, you note his gaze focused firmly on the light children while a sombre expression is painted on his beautiful face.

Biting your lip, your own gaze tracks around the quiet clearing. “Are you sure? I mean...if you are too upset...and we have no music.”

Your husband laughs darkly before nuzzling your hair affectionately. “This is supposed to be a place of happiness. Let's not sour your sacred tree with sad thoughts. And fear not my queen, we have never had anything but each other. We shall make our own music.”

He stands at that, hands dusting off his breeches before he reaches out one hand to you, pose elegant even when he doesn't intend it to. Looking into his eyes, softened by your mutual sad memories, you nod once before letting him pull you up.

The two of you move into a ballroom dance position with the ease of decades of training, but when you dance it's with the slow passion of lovers. He doesn’t swing you into a complicated waltz or anything, but simply rocks you in a slow circle, his hand running along the laces of your dress at the small of your back reassuringly while his cheek rests on your head.

“I love you. I don't feel that I tell you that often enough. I don't get the chance to tell you that often enough. But I do. I love you fiercely, and if I could find a way to end the curse I would.” Hoseok's voice is quiet, yet strained with emotion he can't possibly vocalise.

Emotion that resonates in your chest almost painfully nonetheless.

“I know. I know Hoseok. I love you just as strongly. It is so hard, to not ask how you are when dealing with your delegation. To find out if you are sad or happy. I wish we could end the curse too, but you know as well as I do that it would just result in more war.” The words are hushed and you cannot help the silent tears that track down your face.

Hoseok holds you even tighter as the light children skip by you, his gaze focused firmly on them and when he speaks, his voice cracks. “I want a life with you so badly. I want to raise a family with you. Neither of us started the war, so why must we be punished even though we have fallen in love? Isn't that the ultimate unification? I wish I could find the Faerie Queen and request an audience, plead our case to her and beg for her to let us love each other openly and permanently.”

You sniffle at his words, bringing your hand up to wipe at your tears pitifully before reaching up to pull his head down till he's resting on your shoulder. The dampness of your dress let's you know he's crying too and you curse anyone you can think of for causing him pain.

What good is being the Witch Queen if you can't even solve your husbands sadness?

“She would never do that Hoseok. It's a punishment, remember? She’d probably laugh with delight at our pain.” He says nothing, acknowledging your words with his silence.

Placing your hands on his slim waist, you begin to hum a witch children's nursery rhyme to him while rocking him in slow and steady motions. He doesn't move at first, but eventually gives in and let's you dance with him in the quiet clearing.

“Let’s not cry anymore husband. You said so yourself, this is a happy place. Dance with me freely, while we have the chance to just be ourselves.” You plead softly, kissing his temple and letting your lips remain there until he lifts himself up with a nod.

Hoseok doesn't say anything further, simply dances with you slowly in the shadow of the Ancient Oak while the tiny children of light dance around your legs playfully.

If you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine it was perfect, and you vowed to find a way to dance with him in the way you both wanted.

-

Something that had been at the forefront of your mind for a while, had been been the fact that this year marked your 100th anniversary with Hoseok. Neither of you had celebrated a single anniversary in the past, mainly because the day Hoseok arrived was always the day the curse activated and so you both were more concerned with getting him rest.

But this year, you’d wanted to celebrate it in some way at least. It was an important milestone, not only in your relationship with each other but also in the relations between both kingdoms. Your anniversary had marked one hundred years of peace between the vampires and witches, and you had decided before he had even arrived to finally celebrate this.

Not only this, but his sadness in the Oak Grove had spurred you on to do something to make him happy, to bring a smile to his face and show him that you loved him and cared for him. It was hard to do that most of the time, with public displays of affection almost impossible.

The time there had inspired you though, and as such you had arranged for an event to occur in the final week of Hoseok’s time here. He had been made completely unaware of it through a lot of subtle subterfuge and instead you had worked behind the scenes with your advisors and event organisers.

The result had culminated in today. You were pleased beyond words that Hoseok hadn’t clicked onto what was happening, instead just presuming that your event meetings were something to do with governance. The peril of having a wife who was a ruler perhaps.

Still, he’d likely just been expecting another day of wandering the castle at his leisure or something. Apparently, he’d made friends with the Captain of the Guard, Jeon Jungkook, and was on the verge of being allowed to participate in military drills on the castle grounds.

It was almost sweet how excited he’d got when telling you, and your heart had overflowed with warmth for him at the fact he seemed to have finally made a friend of some sort here after so long. As your Captain, you were well acquainted with Jungkook, and knew him to be young but well trained and with a good soul and heart.

His father had been the Captain for your own, finally retiring ten years ago to spend more time with his aging family. Jungkook, already heavily involved in the Hekatalian Army, had simply slotted into place with ease. He’d practically been bred for it, with incredibly strong battle magic to boot.

As such, you had grown to know him well when discussing your military and regimental training for the soldiers who resided here in the castle. He was a sweet guy beneath the regalia, and you knew that he was exceptionally easy to get on with which made you feel comfortable in the knowledge that he’d taken Hoseok under his wing.

Hoseok had actually woken you up today though with soft kisses that brushed along your shoulder lightly, the sensation almost tickling. You’d thought for a moment that perhaps he was just feeling amorous, he often was in the morning, but instead he’d kept his touches innocent and sweet.

Once he’d been sure you’d fully woken, a content hum leaving your throat as you cuddled closer into his warmth, he’d laid his head back down on the pillow and ran his hand along your exposed stomach. “There’s a lot of activity in this castle this morning wife.”

You make a faux surprised sound, recognising from his tone that he knows somethings up. While your castle is always busy, you have no doubt that there are even more servants hurrying around today than normal. They had a ballroom to decorate and exquisite meals to cook for the guests who would be arriving later today. Given his enhanced senses, he could probably hear all the hustle and bustle around the place.

Rolling in his arms, you gaze at him wide eyed with an innocence he is evidently not falling for given his narrowed eyes. “I don’t know husband. Why is there more activity than normal?” You ponder playfully, tapping your lips before grinning as he begins to tickle you mercilessly.

“Wife. What is happening?” He laughs out, kissing your cheek when you both finish. You simply watch him for a moment, giving him adoring eyes as you note the flyaway strands of his hair from where it has fallen after his sleep.

Tugging him back down, you face him quietly for a moment as you slide a leg between his own. He shivers slightly at your cold feet, giving you a slight glare but says nothing further as he waits for you to speak.

“We are hosting a ball today. A masquerade ball.” You smile at him, watching as those strong brows come together in confusion. If you looked hard enough, you could probably see his brain working behind those pretty eyes of his.

“Why? It’s just a Saturday, unless there’s some special event I’m not aware of?” After one hundred years of living in Hekatalia for half a year at at time, Hoseok had long grown used to the cultural holidays and events that witches celebrated. He particularly enjoyed Summer Solstice, and often lamented on the fact he could never experience a Winter Solstice with you.

“Well...I don’t know if you remember but this year marks one hundred since the curse was activated. A hundred years of peace between the races and kingdoms. And one hundred years since we married. So I organised a masquerade ball to celebrate this and have invited members from all kingdoms to join us. We have werewolves, faeries and representatives from Sanguinus here too.” He looks at you with eyes that are wide with shock.

“Really? And they’re all coming here? Wow, you’re being brave hoping no one will fight.” He chuckles, the corner of his lips turning up in amusement as he rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling.

“Well...that’s why it’s a masquerade ball. So no one can tell who is what. Instead, it will just be a joining of peoples to celebrate a monumental achievement,” You pause for a moment before leaning over to press a sweet kiss to his shoulder. “And it also means that we can dance in public. With a legitimate excuse. No one will complain about the queen and her prince consort dancing at a ball to celebrate one hundred years of marriage.”

He looks at you slowly, and you can see the flurry of emotions painting across his face. It’s something that you’ve both wanted to do for so long and your stomach flutters at the prospect of being able to show him of like you have always wanted, even if no one realises that there is true love hidden beneath the faux smiles.

“I can dance with you? When others can see?” The soft and hesitant tone to his voice breaks your heart, causing you to lift yourself until your lips are pressed together in a kiss that is chaste but full of love.

“Yes my love. For a night, we can pretend.” He gives a bright smile then, his entire face lighting up with a sense of joy and merriment that makes you feel content with life. There’s something particularly satisfying about making him smile, and you’re sure that one day you will figure out what that is. But for now, you just enjoy making him happy when you can.

Climbing out of bed, you head towards the door that separates your rooms before turning and giving him a mysterious smile that has a brow rising as he sits up. There’s a pause as you simply admire the stunningly beautiful sight your husband makes on the bed, the red silk sheets giving him a sultry look.

“Attendants will be coming to get a suit and mask sorted for you for the ball. I have meetings to attend unfortunately as the kingdom waits for no ball, but I shall meet you at the staircase tonight. I apologise that we cannot eat together, but there will be food being served at the ball we can partake,” You let your eyes drag over his body slowly, sucking your lip between your teeth and letting it out slowly to let him see how he affects you. “I expect you to be looking particularly handsome tonight.”

He gives a wicked grin, fangs lengthening before your eyes while his eyes spark with a crimson flash. “I will make sure to put extra effort into my appearance. We wouldn’t want it to look like the witch queen has a poor husband now.”

You simply laugh as he wiggles his brows before exiting to your room, excitement for the evening bubbling in your stomach.

-

Your day passes slowly as a result of your enthusiasm, and you can tell that your advisors are amused at your unusually happy demeanour. You’re normally far more careful to maintain a queenly expression when dealing with kingdom matters, even if you spend more time with these people than you do your own husband.

But the elation you feel at finally being able to celebrate your relationship with your husband in public, even if people think it only fake, is too much. To the point that you find yourself not concentrating on your duties and instead decide to postpone your meeting, allowing your advisors an early day to spend with their families or alternatively prepare for the festivities tonight.

Instead, you head towards the ballroom and take in the preparations for yourself. All around you, witches spell decorations to fly into place, sticking to the wall or hovering in the air perfectly. It’s been a long time since you had hosted any sort of event, and it all fills your veins with fizzing excitement at it all.

“Your Majesty, the preparations are almost complete. Will you accompany me back to your rooms and we can have you fitted into your outfit while we make sure your hair and makeup is perfect.” Soyeon smiles at your demurely, bowing slightly as she walks up to you where you stood in the middle of the hall.

Looking down at her, you give a nod of your head and smile back as you follow, hurrying your pace until you are walking abreast with your beloved servant. “Did you follow my advice?” You ask quietly, keeping your voice low so that others waking past.

Soyeon glances to you out of the corner of her eye and you spy the smile of glee that she fights to hold in. Almost immediately, responding excitement bubbles in your stomach and you can’t help but grab at her arm lightly as you giggle.

“Oh, I hope your dress is beautiful. You will look phenomenal Soyeon, truly. What if you find a man tonight? Or a woman? Don’t forget about me when you’re all loved up!” You pout at her playfully, causing her to roll her eyes while a flush of red brushes her cheeks prettily.

“I doubt that will happen Your Majesty. The dress is adequate and I will just enjoy my time there. Thank you for letting me have the night to myself, and for inviting me to the ball. I can never tell you how much I appreciate your kindness.” She whispers fervently, eyes flicking around the hallway to see if there is anyone who could see your affection.

There would likely be people who became jealous and bitter at how you favoured Soyeon, but you were reaching the point where you were beyond caring what others thought. When you were going to live as long as you were, surely there came a point when others opinions would matter little?

Entering your rooms, you pause to glance at the closed wooden door that separated your rooms and bit your lips with a sigh. Soyeon waits for a moment before pressing a hand to your lower back, encouraging you into the room where she begins to undress you quickly.

“I’m sure he will look beautiful, Your Majesty. Prince Hoseok is a handsome man, and you are an incredibly lucky woman.” She murmurs as she carefully folds your dress, ready for it to back into your closet.

Standing before her in simply your underwear, you watch as she takes a new corset out of your wardrobe and wraps it around your waist, tugging at the laces tightly until you are grunting out from the force. Idle talk is made between you both as she continues on, piecing together a dress of sumptuous ruby red that had been outlined in subtle, shimmering silver.

It’s only once your dress is finally complete, giving her a final spin to get the nod of approval, that you sit and allow her to arrange your hair to perfection. Tiny silver flowers get dotted throughout before she sits an exquisite diadem on your forehead, resting the ends in your hair.

The final touch is your makeup, and once she has finished painting a masterpiece on your face, you stand and admire her work in the mirror after she places the mask on you. It’s red, with silver glittering through in elegant lines and covers the portion of your face from your nose to just above your eyebrows. Giving her a huge grin, you turn slowly and admire everything she has put together.

“Perfect Soyeon, you have a true eye for fashion and makeup. Now go, you must get ready yourself. I can make my way to the staircase, he should be waiting by now.” You peer at the clock on the mantlepiece, noting the time is past when you had asked him to wait.

A quick glance out of the window lets you see carriages slowly filtering through the courtyard and guests dressed in the finest dresses and suits entering the castle. Smiling to yourself, you rest a hand on your chest as you watch for a few moments before looking yourself over in the mirror once more.

The dress is cinched in at the waist, your curves emphasised by the corset while your breasts are more prominent than they would normally be due to cut of the material. Silk is smooth and cool to your touch as you run your fingers along the material that rests at your stomach, noting with pleasure the way the dress flatters your figure.

Tonight, there will be no brows raised at your choice to wear silver and red. For it would be expected to wear the colours of both kingdoms, given that this is a celebration of peace between the two.

Making your way through the hallways, you tilt your head when you begin to hear the soft sounds of a string quartet filtering through the quietness and you can’t help the sway of your hips to the sounds. As you near, the music gets louder along with raucous laughter and constant talking between your guests.

Reaching the top of the elegant marble staircase that takes up the grand entrance, you pause for a moment to rest a hand on the marble edging and look over the room. The crystal chandelier is glowing with a beautiful luminance, casting shadows that are thrown around the room beautifully while more candles light up every corner below.

The center of the room has now been taken up with an elegant ice sculpture, a replica of the Ancient Oak that inhabits the Oak Grove. A few guests entering through the doors notice you above them and you spy as they immediately begin to gossip amongst themselves while giving you a courteous bow of the head.

But your attention is caught immediately by the lone figure at the bottom of the stairs to your right, his figure straight and regal. His outfit matches yours perfectly, with black trousers clinging to his legs and black leather boots winding their way up his calves, silver buckles and lining matching the deep red laces.

His waistcoat is charcoal while his shirt looks to be black silk, an equally dark tie around his neck that fits perfectly. A deep, velvet crimson jacket sits on his shoulders and you smile at the silver and black patterns that run through it subtly. Hoseok’s own mask is a perfectly replica of your own, and you feel pride at the knowledge that no one would ever mistake you both as being anything other than the couple of importance tonight.

Ignoring the guests as they arrive, you keep your gaze firmly on him as he rolls his head on his shoulders to relieve some tension before he lets out a sigh you could probably hear if you had his senses. But then he pauses, and you can tell he’s spotted you.

Almost immediately, a bright smile takes over the only part of his face that is visible and your stomach twists pleasantly at the sight. Ideally, he shouldn’t look too happy to see you but you find yourself uncaring as you slowly make your way down the stairs, one hand holding your skirts to keep them from trailing while the other glides along the bannister.

Hoseok moves to greet you immediately, bowing low until you reach him upon which he reaches out for your hand. Placing it within his, you give him a simple smile that tells him so much and he grins in response as he wraps your arm around his.

“You look beautiful wife.” He whispers, his voice as low as he can make it while still ensuring that you win. As he speaks, he glances around for any other vampires but it’s futile with the masks that cover everyone’s faces.

“And so do you husband. I’m glad that you followed my request.” You tease lightly, voice bubbly with glee and he lets out a low laugh as his head nods forward, his perfectly styled hair swept off his forehead.

“Of course. Shall we enter our ball Your Majesty?” He states loudly, drawing attention from those who are entering the castle for the first time. Smiling demurely at the crowd, you nod your head and move with him to the doors of the ballroom.

Inside, the room from earlier is ablaze with life and you pause to take it in. Thousands of candles hover high in the air, their wicks burning brightly in the final rays of evening sun that shines through the stained glass windows while their corresponding partners dot the room at various points.

All along the edges are tables and chairs, allowing guests the chance to sit and relax while the left side is taken up with one long table that is currently piled high with exquisite food. Almost instantly your mouth starts to water at the sight and you desperately want to pull Hoseok over there to eat, but you know that you must greet your guests first.

Decades of royalty training has imprinted wel upon Hoseok and you as you make your way around the room, talking to guests all of all walks of life and all races. The vampires are a little cold towards you but you are surprised by how genial they are overall, leaving you to wonder if perhaps the relations were always a little colder on your side than his.

Their conversations with you are geared more towards their surprise at exploring your kingdom, and you wonder how strange it must be to some of them. Travellers from Sanguinus and Hekatalia did not visit each others lands very often, and it was a tiny hope of yours that once relations warmed up between the two there could be the opportunity for more travelling.

Hoseok had told you many wonderful tales of the land Sanguinus held, from the rolling desert planes of the west to the rocky, snow topped mountains of the east. Hekatalia was not as diverse in its geography, and instead was simply covered in either forests or fields. Nature was simple here and had always been cultivated into magic used by its inhabitants.

Land like Hoseok’s was wilder, with the magic going haywire and causing vast differences in land and temperature. The way he talked about his home, and the wistfulness in his voice made you long to visit them so much. But you knew that was definitely impossible.

A queen simply did not take holidays in land that was not her own.

Your own subjects were polite towards Hoseok thankfully, giving him a regal bow and affording him the same respect they give you which pleases you. They don’t make for the most mentally stimulating conversations however. Unfortunately, most Hekatalian citizens are far too polite to spend too long talking to their queen.

If they spent too long with you, then it could look like you favour them over others which could generate a whole host of issues neither you nor they want.

It was the visitors from neither kingdom that are the nicest however, and you find yourself smiling truthfully when a group of werewolf guests compliment your home while also congratulating you both on a long marriage.

A rather upfront werewolf asks for a dance with you later and you cannot help the soft snort of laughter at his boldness. You don’t even need to look at your husband to see that he is bristling, metaphorical fur on edge as he gives the most polite and yet rudest smile you’ve ever seen on him.

He’s the perfect husband of a monarch however and says nothing that could be a diplomatic incident. Though you won’t lie, he probably didn’t endear himself either but the tenseness that you can feel in his arm lets you know it’s probably the best you’re going to be able to get with him.

The Master of Ceremonies officially announces the beginning to the ball and you watch from the side as couples from all over the room began to line up on the dance floor. Glancing to Hoseok, you noted the way his eyes focused firmly on the people dancing to the smooth beat of the music and give a small smile before nudging him gently.

“Would you like to dance husband?” You ask softly, your voice barely heard over the soaring music of the string quartet and the excitable chatter of the guests. He jerks at the sound of your voice, looking to you and you marvel for a moment at how astonishingly beautiful he looks. Even with half his face covered.

If anything, the mask makes the exquisite line of his jaw even more prominent and you swallow thickly at the sight of him in the golden glow of the nearby candles. His tongue flicks out, wetting those plush lips before his mouth kicks up into a tiny smile as he nods.

“I would be honoured, wife.” At that, he takes the lead and moves into the centre of the ballroom. Almost immediately, you feel the people surrounding you shift as awareness of who has entered their midst seeps in, but you can’t focus on anything other than Hoseok.

His spine is straight, and he almost towers above you in a manner that would be frightening if you didn’t know him. But the warm, tender way he rests his hand against your lower back and holds your other, with a touch more sensual than he perhaps should, has you feeling safe and protected by him.

You have no doubt that if anyone tried to hurt you right now, he would fight to his final breath to save you even if he is in the knowledge that you are more than capable yourself. A desperate urge rises within you suddenly, so deep and strong that you have to bite your lip to stop it, to rest your head against his enticing chest.

Instead, he leads you in a dance that is centuries old, his feet moving in perfect succession around the floor as you follow him with trained steps. You have no idea the spectacle you both make, and you don’t even notice the way people look between themselves with speculative brows raised.

You don’t know, because your gaze is firmly trapped in his like a moth to a flame. The ballroom almost goes hazy as you dance, bodies moving together as one until you can’t tell where you end and he begins. His own breath is coming a little faster from the exertion, but also from the sheer feelings you both portray with a simple gaze.

It would shock you both to see how you were dancing, as if no one else in the room even existed and with touches that spoke of an intimacy learnt over decades.

You both dance through endless songs, the hunger in your stomach battling with the need in your veins to take him away and let him savour you in a much more intimate way than the light affection he looks at you with now. In fact, it’s only when a passing dancer accidentally bumps into your back that the two of you are broken out of your reverie, blinking rapidly before looking away from each other with heated cheeks.

Pulling away, Hoseok quietly directs you to table of food that lines the side of the hall. Smiling at him shyly, you wonder if this is how lovers who court openly feel.

It’s at the table that you both fall back into your usual roles of cold politeness, the both of you separating to forage for food in an attempt to dispel any notions that your guests may have. From the furtive glances between you both, you worry for a moment that perhaps you may have a problem on your hand with gossip.

Gossip tended to twist things into negativity, and most stories became wildly obscure compared to their origins. There was every chance that after tonight, you could have five secret love children with him if you were not careful.

Though positive reception to that would perhaps precipitate being open about your relationship.

In an effort to deflect any attention, you spend the next hour moving from one group of people to the next on your own, giving genial smiles and accepting compliments about your home, your kingdom, the ball and your husband with a grace that has been trained into you since birth.

It is tiring however, and you forgot how intensive events such as balls are. A quick glance at the grand clock that hangs on the centre wall lets you know that you have been here for three hours already and the soreness of your feet tell you that it has been a very long three hours. You have the biggest urge to simply throw your heels away and go barefoot, but that would most definitely raise brows amongst the aristocracy who dance and chat around you.

“You look tired Your Majesty,” Comes a deep voice from next to you, and you look across with a carefully blank expression. It’s the wolf from before, the only giveaway to his identity being the extravagant black and white mask that only covers half of his face. You presume him to be handsome underneath the mask, given the beautiful jawline you can see at the moment. “But would it be remiss of me to request that dance I asked for earlier?”

He holds out a hand and you pause, eyes flickering around to find Hoseok only to fail in finding the black, silver and red outfit anywhere. Bowing your head regally, you place your hand in his own and allow him to lead you out to the dance floor.

The song now is slower, more suited to intimate couples you note as you look around you and you feel a pang in your stomach for your husband. You would love to be able to slow dance with him around the hall, but figure that you have danced enough with him for the moment.

It certainly would not take a genius to note the difference in your dance with this stranger, given the stiffness of your posture and the large gap you make sure to maintain between you both. Giving him a stiff smile, you decide to be polite and make small conversation.

“Forgive me, I don’t know your name.” Pausing, you leave him plenty of space to fill the opening and he takes it with ease, a sweet, gummy smile on his face.

“Min Yoongi, of the Lunatus Pack. And you need no introduction, my beautiful witch queen.” His tone is playful and you can’t help but smile at his infectious happiness, letting him twirl you around in an overly extravagant manner.

“Lunatus Pack? The ruling class of the Lupine nation. How interesting, I was told that no one high up in our werewolf brethen was able to make it tonight.” You ponder idly, eyes glancing around the room to try and find a red mask.

Yoongi hums lowly, his eyes focused on something over your shoulder that you can’t see and if you’d been paying attention, you would note the way his lips kick up in an amused smirk. “I’m not high up in the Pack, that is likely why. But how could I resist a chance to visit Hekatalia and see the infamous Witch Queen and her Vampire Prince?”

Leaning away, you raise a brow at him sardonically. “Are we a tourist attraction now or something? Interesting, most people in my kingdom seem patently uninterested in my husband.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, before spinning you suddenly, his hands much lower than you were comfortable with. Lifting them, you give him a firm look that has him tittering with bemusement. “An attraction? No. But you are famous. And does that mean they are as uninterested in him as you are in each other? Because if so, he must be exceptionally popular here.”

You say nothing for a few beats of music, letting an awkward silence fill the gap until you finally question what he means by that. Another laugh leaves him, and you find yourself feeling slightly uncomfortable, even though he is perfectly nice.

“I had been told that the Witch Queen hated her Vampire Prince husband, and that the feelings were mutual. And yet...the way you danced with each other tonight. That was with an intimacy borne of lovers, and the way you looked at each other reminded me of how my parents look at each other,” He stalled for a moment, hands tightening in their place on you. “I do not believe you hate each other as much as you wish everyone to believe. Nor do I think others believe that anymore, and nor do I think it’s such a terrible thing.”

Panic stirs in your stomach at his words and you look for Hoseok with anxiety flitting in your veins. That is, until his words sink into your skin and you look at him in a new light. “What do you mean? We were married under duress, and our peoples would never accept a love between two races.”

The words sound weak even to you, causing him to snort. “Oh sure. Maybe a hundred years ago that would have been true. But there have been one hundred, long, years of peace between your peoples. I’m sure there will be people unhappy...but you seem to be a beloved queen. I doubt your people would begrudge you finding happiness and love in the marriage you were forced into, with the man you will spend an eternity with.”

You can’t find the words to respond to that, emotion choking your throat tightly and you blink rapidly at the ceiling to hold back tears. Was he right? Would people accept Hoseok for you? Could you love openly and freely?

“And it would be a truly, stupid man to not want to love a woman as beautiful and kind as you.” He speaks these words louder for some reason and you frown, until you suddenly feel a warmth against your back that is familiar and comforting.

“Hello Min Yoongi. Strange to see a Lunatus Prince here. I’ve been talking to the Captain of the Guard, Jeon Jungkook, and apparently no one from Lunatus responded that they would be joining us today.” Hoseok’s voice is freezingly polite, each syllable bitten out and you look at him out of the corner of your eye.

He’s not normally this rude, but you note with amusement the way his eyes glow a soft red under his mask while his kissable lips are pressed into a straight line. Yoongi lets go of you with a smile, bowing at his waist to press a kiss to your hand in thanks.

“Apologies Your Majesty. Our dance has been cut short, and please forgive me for concealing my identity. I’m sure you can understand the need to simply be free sometimes,” He gives you a warm smile that you find yourself responding with but he nods to your husband. “Remember my advice. I wish you both well for now and the future.”

At that, he turns and departs, winding his way through the crowd. You watch him go quietly before turning to Hoseok, giggling inside at the sight of the glare on his face. It pained you to not be able to tease him so openly, but if you were correct in your belief, then Hoseok was jealous. Something he never had to consider normally, as even with the disdain for your husband the people of Hekatalia still respected your marriage vows.

“Is there a problem husband?” You ask, voice airy with just a hint of playfulness that causes his eyes to narrow at you. The sight of his jaw clenching and the cherry in his eyes has your thighs squeezing in response, breath hitching every so slightly.

His eyes flicker down to your mouth, noting the way your lips part before they drag to your eyes, no doubt blown out at the blatant display of possessiveness your husband is portraying. Almost instantly, his own jaw clenches and you almost moan out at the sight of the muscles working beneath smooth skin.

“I believe I am ready to retire for the night wife. Are you ready to retire?” He asks, his tone perfectly polite and neutral without a hint of the blatant lust in his eyes. Nodding in a daze, you give an affirmative and begin to follow him out of the ballroom.

It’s infuriating how slow you get through the crowd, continuously accepting praise for the event along with gracious goodbyes and wishes of well being to you both until finally you are free. Soyeon is stood in the corner of the entranceway, laughing beautifully with a young woman in a dress of emerald green and you watch them both momentarily before moving on.

The both of you ascend the staircase with far more grace and poise than you are feeling, and you are thankful that it is common for the host of the ball to leave early. Fashionably late to arrive and fashionably early to leave. It would continue on for hours in the ballroom, but you find yourself uncaring.

Not when you are watching the way your husband strides down the hallway, his long legs eating up the ground while his shoulders sway in an unconscious swagger. The vampires are always an elegant race, but your husband moves with the predatory hunger of a tiger shifter.

It makes your legs quiver with anticipation while a slick wetness dampens the silk between your legs already, breathing a little harder than normal. You know he can hear it, and it turns you on even more to know that he’s likely enjoying the sounds of your need.

Reaching your quarters, you watch with hungry eyes as Hoseok pauses outside of his door before opening it slowly and turning to face you. His mask is still pressed to his face, and you have the strongest urge to take it off him to let you see the captivating beauty that had stolen your heart long ago.

Instead, you enter his room quietly, your demeanour meek in the way that he so loves and you hear the slow hiss of breath from behind you as he stays where he is, a quiet hitting sound letting you know he’s let his head flop back against the wooden door until you hear the soft click of it closing.

There’s no sounds now, the faint whisper of music that had drifted from the ballroom disappearing once the door closes and you whisper a spell of silence to keep the rooms quiet. A silencing spell is normally placed around them anyway, but you have a feeling that tonight is going to be particularly special and you shiver with anticipation.

Turning slowly, you watch as your husband rests against the door with his gaze firmly focused on you. Taking the initiative to keep quiet for him, you run your eyes over his slim body and can’t help the automatic flex of your hands as they itch to touch him.

You don’t even need to see him well to know that his sensitive eyes caught that tiny movement, not when the corner of his lips turn up in a smirk that speaks of sex and desire.

“Did you enjoy your little dance with Min Yoongi, wife?” He asks, tone carefully neutral and you watch him vigilantly to try and detect his tiny tells. Your husband has always been phenomenal at hiding his emotions, and with the extravagant mask covering his face you find yourself at a loss.

“It was acceptable. He asked earlier and I finally accepted. It would have been rude not to.” You could dissuade his jealousy easily by simply explaining your conversation with the werewolf prince, but you find yourself unwilling. Because it is so rare to see him possessive like this, and you desperately want him to ravage you the way he obviously wants to.

Your words do nothing to appease him and you watch with pleasure as he bares his teeth, jaw working and you can tell he can’t figure out what to do for a moment. It’s pleasing, working him like this in tiny nudges until he will give you what you want. In your kingdom, Hoseok was practically powerless while you had the strain of unlimited power.

It was with great pleasure and excitement that you readily handed the reins of power to Hoseok in the bedroom, succumbing to his desires and wants with a submission that you could never reveal in your daily life. Which is why when he begins to stalk towards you, his eyes a dark crimson, that you shudder with need.

“Very well wife. I would be an unsuitable husband if I dictate who you could speak to, and I have no interest in hobbling you in that manner. It would be unseemly of me to undercut you like that. But I find myself with a desperate need to show you that you are mine, no matter what anyone else in that damnable ballroom believes.” He growls, voice low in his throat until each word is almost rasping out of his throat.

Hoseok is upon you now, moving so close that there is nary a centimetre between you both, forcing you to have to crane your head back on your neck to see him. He doesn’t let up, barely lowering his head and you almost whine with need for him.

“Am I going to get my good girl tonight? Or am I going to have punish you for being naughty?” You’ve never understood how vampires can do that strange hissing sound that they make, but the way it winds through his words and deep into the primal fear you have has your eyelashes fluttering shut while you let out the tiniest moan.

“I’ll be a good girl for you. I swear.” Mostly.

He says nothing for a moment, simply watching you with eyes that speak of a great need that only you can satisfy. You almost whine at him petulantly as he smirks down at you, fully aware that he has you exactly where he wants you.

“Good. Now, let’s see what is only for my eyes.” He stands back suddenly, leaving you cold and desperate for his touch on your skin. You’re momentarily confused until you follow his eyes down to your dress, noting the way your breasts are pushed together enticingly in the beautiful fabric.

Chewing on your lip while giving him big doe eyes, you reach behind yourself and tug on the ribbons that keep your dress in place. It’s hard to undress yourself, but Soyeon has always made it so that it is possible if you try hard enough.

Only, the position must set off something deep within your husband because he darts forward faster than your eyes can track and there’s a sudden, loud rip of fabric that echoes in the room. Pausing, you look down with widened eyes to see the beautiful dress torn open, silk hanging in tatters to leave your breasts exposed under his watchful gaze.

The tight corset that holds your waist in tightly prevents him from seeing the full expanse of your chest and he bares his teeth in annoyance at the sight. That doesn’t stop him from lowering his head though, trailing his tongue along your collarbones in a molten trail of lust that has your knees quaking as you grasp onto his jacket.

Your husband has always known how to use his mouth to turn you into a wreck under him, like a god of desire whose sole purpose is to simultaneously torture and send you into another plane of existence with pleasure.

That talented mouth is currently sucking a deep bruise into the flesh above your breasts, his hands cupping the fleshy mounds while his thumbs circle the hardened nubs of your nipples, the feeling almost painful until you groan at him, tugging at his hair in a motion that can’t decide whether you want him to move away or get closer.

A dark laugh leaves him, his breath brushing against the wet trails of your skin and causing you to shiver from the cold. At the movement, he abandons his oral assault on you to simply track his mouth back north, the sharpened points of his fangs scratching against your skin in a tantalising way.

In a brutal show of the strength his race is so famed for, Hoseok bends down and lifts you up until your breasts are level with his wandering mouth. A squeal of laughter leaves you as you grasp the strands of his silky hair tightly for balance while he focuses his attention on laving his cravings on your breasts, hot mouth licking and sucking any inch of skin he can reach until finally he’s sucking a nipple into his mouth, the sheer heat of his wet mouth causing your head to drop back as you gasp out.

The movement has you wobbling and he grunts, moving with a speed that still shocks you until you’re landing on the soft covers, the silk embracing your body in a cold that contrasts deeply with the heat of his mouth. Hoseok isn’t bothered by the change in position though and instead focuses again on the hardened bud, tongue flicking out to play with it but his lips wrap around it to suck deeply.

It’s almost as if your breasts are directly connected to your vagina as each pull of his mouth has a corresponding throb of your inner muscles until you whine softly, wanting to push at his head but knowing full well that he will punish you if you try and make him do what he doesn’t want to. And yet, the thought of the punishment has even more wetness trickling between your legs under your dress.

“Good girl.” He whispers against your skin and you want to cry in relief as he sits up, legs straddling your waist in a sight so sexy it makes you delirious with want. Hoseok smirks as your breath hitches before reaching forward and playing with the destroyed threads of your dress.

It’s with barely a flinch of effort on his face that he rips the dress from you in sections, tugging the ruined material out from under you to throw it in the corner. You pout lightly as he grasps the edge of the corset, playfulness taking the edge of his emotions in his eyes as he rips that too.

“They have laces for a reason husband.” You admonish lightly, raising a brow as you lay before him with nothing but a pair of damp silk panties on and your mask. He snorts in response, shrugging as he throws the corset away and looks upon your body like it’s a feast and he’s a starving man.

“You have assistants for a reason wife.” His words are quiet and unfocused, causing you to tut at him lightly. Hoseok’s eyes flicker to you at that, causing you to bite your lip in an innocent expression.

“So fucking beautiful. And mine.” He practically vibrates with possessiveness as he leans forward, using just a finger to snap your panties from you and leave you exposed to him completely. He doesn’t do anything to you for a moment though, instead just lets you feel the tantalising light touch of his breath against your centre and you wiggle slightly with unrestrained need.

Petal soft lips press to your inner thigh in response and you watch as he noses along the vulnerable flesh there, eyes flicking back to you to check your response before he lets the very tip of his tongue trail along a specific area. You don’t need him to tell you what he’s doing, and you groan softly at the knowledge that he’s licking along your artery.

He can likely hear the pounding of blood that echoes in your head, rushing through your body with your heightened emotions and it’s beyond exhilarating to know that he’s instinctively attracted to that spot. It should be frightening, but Hoseok has long since shown you that pain can be pleasurable when done right.

Which is why there’s a slight disappointment that dips your stomach when he abandons your thigh, nosing along the fine hair of your pubic bone until his tongue plays in the very spot you’ve been craving him this whole time. A low groan leaves him as he presses the flat of his tongue to your clit, dragging it up slowly before swirling the tip around the swollen bud in slow and steady circles.

Moaning deeply, you grasp at the sheets tightly as his tongue leads an assault of pleasure on your body that has your defences falling like dominoes with zero resistance. Each flick of his tongue, whether it’s the kitten light licks that have your hips jerking in repeated, short bursts of motion or the deep passes of his tongue that dip into your entrance with every movement.

He stops for a moment to press sticky kisses to your thigh once more, heated tongue licking along the sensitive flesh until you feel the tiniest prick that causes your leg to twitch in response. Lifting your head, you look down to see that he’s bitten down lightly, enough to cause a bead of blood to slowly trickle down your skin but not enough to be anything worrying.

Hoseok watches the dark liquid move with eyes that burn a bright crimson, the unfettered hunger in them making your inner muscles quiver with a need you vocalise with a broken call of his name. The sound breaks the trance he’d fallen into and he moves forward in an almost snake like movement to catch the drop on his tongue, following it back up at a languid pace until he wraps his mouth around the bite mark that is already healing.

With closed eyes, he tugs his mouth off to reveal the mesmeric profile that you love so dearly and your heart kicks at the sight as he nuzzles your skin almost affectionately. The softness vanishes though as he moves back to your centre, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking with an almost brutal level of strength until your mewling and babbling out phrases that you don’t even properly understand.

A long, elegant finger dips into your channel slowly, coating in the sticky fluid that leaks from you with each glide of his tongue before slipping into you with ease. The intrusion is pleasant, but you gasp for even more, needing to feel the burning stretch of him.

He lets out a laugh against you, pressing a kiss to the bud of pleasure that throbs with need before sliding a second finger into you. Each move of his hand has him twisting slightly, searching for that special spot inside you until his fingers rub against the bundle of nerves that rest on your inner walls.

Almost immediately you let out a wail of pleasure, hips pushing up to encourage him further and he lets out a primal growl as he presses a hand firmly down on your stomach, keeping you firmly in place.

“Hoseok please, please. I’ll be a good girl, please just...I need you.” You pant out needily, fingers reaching for him desperately and clenching with frustration when he darts out of the way with a smirk. His lower face is shining with your desire and he simply licks at his lips, taking in the unique taste of you as his fingers move in you slowly.

“Why should I? You seemed happy enough to flirt with another man earlier.” If you were being honest, you’d completely forgotten that Min Yoongi existed when you had Hoseok taking you to a whole new dimension in his bed right now, and you decided that you’d had enough playing games.

“I wasn’t. I would never. You’re the only man I want, I swear. Please Hoseok, husband. Please.” You beg, pleading with him to give him and just fuck you into tomorrow. He watches you closely, eyes back to being his usual brown but there’s no softness in them tonight.

Tonight, he looks every inch the regal vampire prince he is.

Baring his teeth, you whimper at the sight of his sharpened incisors and pout as he pulls his hand from you. Lifting it up, he looks at the strands of sticky liquid that stretch enticingly when he pulls his fingers apart.

Watching you closely, your inner muscles clench desperately around nothing as he slots them into his mouth and sucks them out slowly, eyes remaining focused on you the whole time. “You taste good wife. Will you let me taste more?”

The question is surprisingly civil given how annoyed he’d been earlier, but you note the way his eyes focus firmly on the elegant column of your throat and recognise his real question. Despite his earlier bite, Hoseok always made sure to have your permission before biting your neck. It was a visible area, and took a degree of trust to allow a vampire that close to somewhere so vulnerable.

Your response was simply to run a finger along the expanse of skin enticingly, letting it trail along the curve of your breast and stroking down your stomach before reaching the wetness of your clit. As your fingers begin to play with yourself, a rumbling growl vibrates from his chest and you grin at him in challenge.

“Wench.” He hisses out, tugging his jacket off before pulling his tie off and undoing the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt. Once the delicious view of his tan, toned chest is given to you, he simply undos the laces of his trousers and pushes them down his shapely thighs, unwilling to spend the time required to take off those intricate boots.

The sight of his cock bobbing in the air makes your mouth water while your inner muscles squeeze, craving the thick intrusion of him already. He smirks at the sight of your blatant want and strokes himself playfully, lips pouting at you mockingly as he tugs at his turgid length with long and practiced strokes.

A bead of pearlescent pre-cum at his tip is swiped along his thumb before he’s leaning forward, pressing it into your mouth and letting you suck the salty bitterness off his skin with a swirl of your tongue. He moans out quietly before leaning down and capturing your mouth in the first kiss of the night, his lips pressing against your firmly in a sign to not fight his dominance.

You grant him entrance to your mouth eagerly, opening up and sighing into him as his tongue slides along yours in a sensual dance. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you tug him closer and moan as he takes a thigh and wraps it around his waist, cock resting against your pubic bone as you grind against him in an attempt to gain some friction.

It takes only the slightest movement of Hoseok’s hips until his blunt head is pressing against your entrance and you break away from him to look down, the sight of him slowly pushing into you arousing beyond belief. You can’t help the way you clench down at the sight combined with the astonishingly pleasurable feeling of him stretching you.

He really shouldn’t feel like this every time you have sex, and yet he does.

“Oh...Hoseok.” You gasp out, your head falling back into the pillow as your body strains under him, tensing up as he bottoms out in you. Hoseok lets out a corresponding moan, soft and light as his head drops into your neck to get used to the sensation.

“Stop squeezing.” He snaps, nipping at your collarbone lightly and you shudder around him at the sensation, causing an immediate whine from him. Lifting his head, he glares at you with ruby eyes that promise retribution and you shiver with excited anticipation.

“Oh, is it going to be like that then?” Hoseok murmurs, eyes flickering over your face and before you can even respond, he pulls out until only the very tip of him remains in you before slamming back in with so much force, he almost shunts you up the bed to the headboard. Almost immediately you let out a wail of pleasure, the force of his movement pressing his hips into your clit with each thrust and sending sparks of desire that fizz through your veins before adding to the bubbling pit that’s building in your stomach.

Once he’s started, he doesn’t let up and each slap of Hoseok's hips against yours was so hard, so forceful that it felt almost bruising. Your body jerked upwards with each movement until you were almost positive he was going to fuck you through the headboard.

His breath, hot against the sweat of your neck, has you shivering while the primal sound of his low, guttural groans makes you clench even tighter around his cock. The sensation has him gripping your hips just as hard, fingers that are normally gentle squeezing with a force to leave pretty bruises in the shape of those hands you love.

It’s a good job no one but him and Soyeon will ever see the bruises on your hips, and the thought turns you on even more, more wetness making letting his cock slide in you even easier.

“Oh, you're being so good for me wife. So good,” He whispers darkly against the tendons of your neck, lips fluttering against your skin with butterfly soft movements that only heighten the sensation of touch you're craving from him. “My beautiful wife. Can you moan for me? Can you scream?’

Hoseok bites down then when you’re not focused on his mouth, his perfect white teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your neck with ease and you sob out a cry of pleasure at the sting. The pinpricks of pain his fangs cause vanish as his tongue laves attention to the wounds before he presses his lips to them, suctioning hard and you pant as you hear his throat gulp greedily at the thick red liquid you bleed for him.

The overwhelming sensation of both pleasure and pain has you writhing under him, throbs of desire causing you to clench around him rhythmically until he's hissing his displeasure at you once more.

Swiping his tongue along your skin to catch any leaking trails he had missed, he pulls away and you watch him through heavy lidded eyes as his lips pull back in a silent snarl. Once white teeth are now stained, while two impossibly sharp fangs are prominent in his mouth. He’s fed messily tonight, his lust causing him to be a little less careful and his chin is smeared with red.

“Bad girl.” Hoseok whispers lowly, his dominant hand coming up to wrap around your throat with a gentleness that belies the ruby in his eyes. His fingers avoid the sore marks he’s made though. Leaning down, his refined nose brushes along the bone of your jawline slowly, nudging at you in a way that's almost affectionate in spite of his words.

Rolling his hips into yours at an almost glacial pace suddenly, you can't stop the whine as his hips press against you enticingly; just enough pressure to make it feel nice but not enough to go anywhere.

“Say my name darling. Let everyone know who's fucking you good.” He whispers into your ear, voice low and sensual like a devil coaxing you out of your home. Hoseok is obviously not quite over his jealous flare earlier, and if it wasn’t for the sheer gratification he was giving you then you’d coo at him.

His words are accompanied though by another sharp snap of his hips, cock spearing you and pressing against that thick bundle of nerves on your inner wall until you're panting out his name, desperately, clinging to his shoulders with fingers that dig deep.

“Hoseok, please.” You gasp out, high pitched whines threading through every sound. Hoseok chuckles darkly, nipping at your jawline before pressing even harder against your throat till you can barely breathe.

“Say my name. Scream my name, wife. Who do you belong to?” He bites out, teeth gritted together while the tendons of his own neck appear enticingly from his efforts.

Wheezing under his grip, you tap at his arm until he's releasing just enough that you can have a breathe. The pressure in your lower abdomen is overwhelming, your pussy feeling like it's about to break from the pace he's going at and you can't stop the long, elongated moan that you let out as you finally reach your release.

Squeezing around him like a vice, your fingernails drag down his back deeply while your eyes roll into the back of your head.

A small part of your mind remembers his demand as he continues to thrust, causing micro explosions of aftershocks that ricochet your body. “Hoseok. Jung Hoseok. I belong to Jung Hoseok.”

Eyes opening you watch as Hoseok’s eyes slowly bleed from ruby to black in satisfaction, the smirk on his lips having a touch of smugness in your orgasm clouded mind.

“Good girl. Always such a good girl.” He grunts before his eyes close, expression almost pained as he presses himself firmly into you. His grip on your throat tightens once more while the other on your hip feels like he'll break something.

Hoseok's soft, bloodstained lips fall open as his brow creases from the force of his orgasm and you can feel his cock twitch as he cums, emptying himself inside you. “Good girl.” He whispers once more, eyes opening as his chest moves rapidly in an attempt to get his breath.

Rolling off you, you both face the ceiling and gasp desperately while your body feels boneless with a lack of energy. It’s like he’s sucked all the energy out of you with his bite and the orgasm, but it feels so pleasant that you can’t find it in you to care.

You don’t even realise that you’ve started to drift until you jerk into awareness when he lazily moves onto his side, wrapping an arm around you and tugging you closer to him. A soft kiss is pressed to your throat and when you look at him, Hoseok has an expression that almost looks like he’s asking for forgiveness.

“I’m yours too. You know that right?” He whispers out, and you can feel the sudden vulnerability in it. Smiling, you nod your head and kiss his forehead gently and simply tell him to sleep. You’ll always be his, just as he will always be yours. No matter what others think.

-

The final day, as always, is bittersweet. It begins with you awakening slowly, consciousness crawling its way into being at a pace that would make the snails in the gardens seem fast. Everything feels warm and the quiet solitude of the room is comforting for once instead of oppressive.

You don't want to wake up though, and you fight it as much as you can. Because waking up means facing the reality that he is leaving. That you have only scant hours with him before he climbs into his carriage and departs to his kingdom, unseen and unheard of for a further six months.

It makes your limbs feel heavy, the weight of your sadness like chains around your chest that squeeze tight until it is too hard to breathe. You had tried communicating one year, sending messages to each other as secretly as possible until you realised the futility.

One simply did not send messages from Hekatalia to Sanguinus, particularly not to the Crown Prince from the Witch Queen. Especially not when you were supposed to despise each other.

It was lovely while he was here though, while he was home. You weren’t even entirely sure where he called home anymore, but a tiny part of you hoped that he considered it here in your arms. Even if his time here was spent metaphorically shackled to the castle, you had the comfort of simply knowing that he was here.

For yet another moment, like the hundreds of times before, you cursed the Faerie Queen for giving you such a cruel curse.

Despite the knowledge that he was leaving though, your beloved husband was also the reason that you were waking right now.

He was already awake underneath you, his heart slow but steady under the warm skin of his chest as your head lay on him. Hoseok hadn't said a word to you, nor had he tried to coax you from slumber.

Instead, his fingers simply trailed along the length of your exposed back in slow, yet steady and assured movements. It was featherlight, and you would have shivered if he hadn't been doing it for long enough to desensitise your skin.

You're not sure why he hasn't tried to wake you, but he seems to be deep in thought. Though if you'd thought he wasn't paying attention then you were reminded of his vampiric senses when his hand glides up your back to rub at the sensitive skin at the bottom of your neck.

“Good morning wife.” His voice is low, gravelly with sleep and you revel in the deep tone with happiness. Nuzzling your nose into his neck, you refuse to open your eyes and ruin the moment.

Instead, you let your hand wander to rest against the velvet skin of his chest, the muscles firm under your hand. But it's the steady beating of his heart beneath your palm that calms you more than anything.

There's a misconception amongst your kind that vampires are undead and therefore have no heartbeat. It's wrong, obviously, and borne of fear and terror throughout the years. A way to demonize their enemy and strip them of the things that makes them relatable.

It is easy to slaughter innocents after all, if you believe that they are not alive in the first place.

Though it is a stupid belief that they have, given vampires quite clearly procreate. And dead people are not prone to giving life.

Still, you can't help the gut deep sense of satisfaction that you have at feeling that strong beat beneath your fingertips. The beat that tells you that he's alive and well.

“We have to get up wife.” Hoseok speaks, the words dancing from his lips into the quiet air like the tiny dust motes that you can see gliding lazily in the morning sun. Pressing yourself firmly against his side, you shake your head into his neck petulantly.

“No. I don't want to. I'm queen, I can do what I want.” You don't even have to see your husbands face to know he's probably smiling at that, his rounded cheeks pulled high while his eyes crease in happiness. It makes your heart hurt.

“Yes you are the queen. A very good queen, who does not abandon her subjects or her work to laze in bed with her husband that she should not love.” He admonishes, the hand stroking affection into your back making the words softer than they should be.

Sighing quietly, you simply inhale the soothing and comforting scent of him. “Maybe so. But I do love him. And my subjects will be here tomorrow, whereas he will not.”

His hand pauses and there's nothing further said, his very breathe still in his chest before he let's it out in a deep exhale that speaks of so many emotions. With a burst of movement, Hoseok rolls to his side and lays his arm over your waist while resting his head close to yours.

Neither of you say anything, gazes simply tracking over each others faces to keep every pore and line fresh in your memories. He looks beautiful, if a little paler than when he arrived due to his lack of spending time outdoors.

One year, you will declare him able to go where he pleases whether the population likes it or not. You know he likely won't go far, and he’s actually been the one confining himself half the time, but you would like him to at least try to experience some freedom.

His eyes are soft and unbelievably kind today, the colour rich as dark chocolate while his inky hair splays across the pillow and his forehead in a haphazard manner that is adorably sweet. The effects of sleep are still present on him as well, with a crease from his pillow in the round softness of his cheek while the puffiness under his eyes belies his tiredness.

It's the imperfections that make him truly perfect.

“I don't want you to go.” You croak out, voice cracking and hoarse with both sleep and emotion that you don't have to explain but that he feels all the same.

Hoseok says nothing for a moment and simply gives you a heart wrenching, bittersweet smile. “I know. I don't want to go. But you know I have to. Six months, and I'll be back. You know that I will love you fiercely, even when I am gone.”

Your eyes fall from his gaze and the pure honesty you see there. It must hurt him so, to constantly be uprooting his life like this. Yet he has not complained since the night he shyly confessed his love for you, fully braced for hatred and rejection so many years ago.

His thumb makes slow and comforting stroking motions on your side before he leans in, pressing his lips to your forehead before letting them remain there for a moment.

“My father has a meeting in the Faerie Kingdom soon. I think I may ask to go with him.” You understand what he means instantly and shake your head.

“Hoseok...no. You know the faeries hate us. She will never undo this curse. And I don't blame her. I don't want her to. This curse keeps us apart, yes. But without it, we would have never found love in each other. Only hate. And our people will kill each other again.” You whisper, resting a hand against his chest as you make your case.

As painful as it is to plead with him to accept the status quo, you know that it must be done.

He makes a strained noise of complaint before hugging you closer. “I hate it though. I have to at least try. For our kingdom's, so they can see that we truly can get on with each other and love. For us, to no longer live half lives. For...the babe we lost through our hubris and the children we can never have. Please...let me at least try. How can I tell you that I love you, how can everyone accept that I love you if I can't even fight for you? You can't ask because of diplomacy, but I am not a king yet. I'm just a prince, with not as much to lose as you.”

You don’t know what to say to him, as denying his request would likely hurt him even more. He’d follow your demands if you told him not to go, you knew that, but you wondered what it would cost in your relationship. It had always been harder on him, the constant shuffling from one home to another and unable to make any concrete plans for his future.

Was this to be his life? You at least had your kingdom to run, but Hoseok’s father was not likely to give up the throne anytime soon. Hoseok spent his life either learning under his father in his kingdom and not doing a whole lot, or just plain not doing a whole lot in your kingdom.

You knew that he craved more in his life, and it pained you that he was likely unhappy in many areas because of the curse. He’d taken losing the baby badly, very badly, and you knew that he craved a family for you both. Maybe it was because he truly wanted a family, or maybe it was because he wanted something to do and a child would allow him to focus his efforts somewhere.

One hundred years was a long time, and the fact that there was a distinct possibility of never bearing children in the future was painful for you both. How could you deny him to at least try? To at least ask and try to fight for your right to happiness with each other. You wanted it as much as he did, and you did not want him to be facing an eternity of unhappiness.

“Just...don’t get too hurt if she denies it. Please. Even if she says no, at least we get half the year with each other. We will figure this out, even if we have to just declare our love to each other. What can they do anyway? The curse means we have to spend six months together, and they cannot kill us. But...try.” It doesn’t seem like much, and he huffs out a breathe in annoyance. Chuckling in his arms, you press a soft kiss to his neck and enjoy the way he shivers slightly.

“You know, if anyone could see you behind closed doors then their ideas of bloodthirsty and scary vampires would be gone completely.” You tease, pushing against him until he finally lets his arms relax and you slip from him.

Exiting the bed, you stretch with a deep groan before turning around and talking in the sight of him. Hoseok is leaning up on his elbow now, the silk sheets draped around his hips and revealing the delicious expanse of golden, toned stomach and chest. The image is slightly ruined by his sleep puffy face, but it just makes you smile as your heart swells with affection for him.

“Have I ever told you that you’re beautiful wife?” He grins, fangs slightly longer than they had been as his gaze tracks along the expanse of your naked body. Cheeks heating as your husband is evidently feeling different emotions to you, you shrug as nonchalantly as you can before walking to the wash basin in the corner of his room. Taking the towel, you dip it into the fresh water and give yourself a quick clean over before heading back to him.

Crawling onto the tall bed, you bounce towards him and laugh at the way his eyes focus on your breasts immediately. Leaning over, you catch his lips in yours in a sweet kiss before sitting back with a mischievous smile.

“Come husband. We must get ready.” He growls at your mocking tone, eyes deeping to crimson as he sits up and captures your lips in a bruising kiss, one hand twining in your hair while the other presses your chest to his.

His mouth leaves yours and moves down your throat hungrily, sucking in a needy motion against the column of your neck with a deep purr. “Impudent woman. Maybe I should have a last feed...for the road you know.” He hisses, the words tickling the sensitive skin and you moan quietly, your smile unseen by him.

Gripping his black hair tightly, you press his head to your throat in an encouraging manner while your other hand reaches his body down to grip him firmly, shifting your body into position. “Please do. A good wife needs to make sure her husband is taken care of.”

He lets out a strained groan as you sink onto him before pulling back and giving you a narrow eyed gaze, his amusement strong despite the red in his eyes. “Wench.” Is all he says before he focuses on the matters at hand, providing you both with the final pleasures of his visit.

Duties soon call however and within no time at all, you find yourself sat with your advisors as they discuss the recently updated terms of a trade agreement with a far away kingdom. You should be paying more attention than you are, and part of you admonishes yourself for being such a terrible ruler, but a larger part of you is focused on the welcome soreness between your legs and the ache at your throat.

Soyeon had to wrap a beautiful scarf around your throat, turning it into an endearing fashion statement to hide the redness of Hoseok’s bite. There was a burning desire to just throw the scarf away and wear his mark proudly, but you knew the shock it would likely cause.

One day, you would simply throw your caution to the wind and kiss your husband in front of everyone the way he deserved. If you had a coin for every time you thought something like this, then you would likely have enough money to rival the royal vault.

But there is another part of your mind that is firmly in your quarters with him still, and you wonder what he is doing right now. A quick glance at the clock tells you that the carriage is due anytime, and your stomach twists with unhappiness at the prospect.

Shaking your head, you engage back with your advisors and discuss the terms that you find acceptable along with the ones that you do not, requesting they go back and re-negotiate better for your subjects. They acknowledge the requests, writing down notes furiously that you have no doubt will be discussed with the corresponding partners in the foreign kingdom.

A sudden knock at the door has your heart racing while your stomach turns, causing nausea. Soyeon’s head appears behind the heavy wooden door and you feel the strongest urge to suddenly cry.

“Apologies Your Majesty, but your husband’s carriage has arrived.” Standing, you brush at invisible dirt on your skirts before nodding your head to your advisors who bow. Making your own apologies, you excuse yourself from the meeting and begin to follow Soyeon along the quiet and empty hallways.

“Is he ready?” You ask quietly, your tone strained as your hands play with themselves nervously. Soyeon gives you a sympathetic look, resting a hand against your arm for a moment before nodding her head.

“He is Your Majesty. Waiting for you just before the doors.” She didn’t even need to say that final sentence as you turn a corner and he’s there, looking magnificently beautiful. His dark hair has been styled elegantly, lifted off his forehead while most of his body is hidden behind a long, fitted black coat, the ends brushing his knees and meeting the top of his boots. The silver lining is a subtle sign that only you would understand and you bite your lip suddenly to stop a burst of emotion.

“You have only a few minutes before they will be expecting him. His luggage is already being stowed.” She whispers, bowing her head to you both before heading out of the door. Neither of you move for a moment, and you watch painfully as Hoseok swallows.

“They’re here.” He says, tone empty as he states a pointless fact that you both already know. Pressing your hands to your mouth, you nod your head as tears fill your eyes while a gnawing desperation fills every ounce of your body.

Upon seeing it, Hoseok’s brave face falls and his own eyes shine with unshed tears as well. Striding over briskly, you marvel at the extraordinary sight he makes with his coat billowing behind him before he’s suddenly there, taking you into his arms and holding you so tightly.

“Do not cry my love. Please. It will make it much harder to leave you and impossible to not give away my feelings.” He begs, words soft and light as a feather as he pleads with you desperately. Sniffling, you bring a hand to wipe away a stray tear and he gently thumbs away the liner that has slipped from your eyes.

“You look phenomenal. Like a king.” You whisper and he laughs quietly, his face light with happiness despite the sad situation.

“I will never be your king, remember?” He breathes out, the teasing in his voice a welcome break to the brevity of what is to happen and you cling harder to him. Hoseok lets you, and makes no motion to try and move you away from him. Instead, he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you in tighter.

“You’re the king of my heart.” His laugh is loud at that, the sound happy despite the situation and you can literally feel it vibrate out of his chest as he lets his hands wander along the laces that keep your dress tied together.

“Wow. I don’t even know how to respond to that without making a sarcastic comment.” Pulling away, he looks down at you with so much affection and love that you grip the lapels of his jacket even tighter.

“Then don’t. Just...come back to me in six months happy. That’s all I ask. I love you.” You focus on his chest, flattening out his jacket and rubbing at imaginary wrinkles while your lip quivers threateningly. It’s probably not very queen-like but you’re beyond caring about that right now. Hoseok doesn’t respond, simply letting his own hands rub your arms in long and gentle motions before he presses his lips to your forehead.

“I will. I promise. And all I ask is that I come back to you being happy as well. I love you too.” His voice is thick and it cracks on the final part of the sentence, causing you to swallow thickly.

“I will miss you, husband.” You whisper and he gives a weak smile, tight lipped before he dips down to catch your lips between his own in a kiss so fierce and full of emotion. It’s six months worth of kisses in one go and it leaves you breathless, panting against him when he steps back.

“I will miss you too, wife.” Blinking rapidly, he looks up at the ceiling before taking a few fortifying breathes while he rolls his shoulders in preparation. Turning to the door, he looks back at you and gives a final smile before he’s gone and you’re left alone once more.

Staring at the closed door, you will him to re-appear and take you in his arms once more but he doesn’t. Because he can’t. You both know that the curse is vicious and cruel, the pain almost unbearable.

Not waiting for Soyeon, you move quickly through the deathly silent halls before reaching your quarters once more. Slowly moving to the window, you tentatively peer out and watch as the black carriage slowly disappears out of the courtyard of the castle, dust rising as it heads on the long road back to Sanguinus.

Facing your empty room, you look around it despondently and find him in every corner. The bed, where you’d made love many times and cuddled long into the night. Only last week you had lay on your stomach across it, Hoseok sitting on the floor in front of you while he read aloud from a book. Every page he read got him a kiss on the head, until he was giggling with how fast he was trying to read.

The nightstand, when he’d taken over the job of Soyeon to carefully remove your makeup as a simple excuse to be close to you. A few months ago, he had tried to put your makeup on for you, the results causing you to gasp in horror at the mirror until you both burst out laughing, holding your stomachs in glee.

The exquisite rug where you had both laid many times, hand in hand while discussing hypothetical futures. The desk in which you had both sat at, discussing treaties and agreements that he likely shouldn’t have been involved with, yet you’d been unable to not ask him to be involved.

And yet, while each memory hurt, it was filled with so much love and affection that your heart twisted painfully.

Moving into his rooms, you inhale shakily as you take in the wonderful scent of him. Moving over and sitting on the silk sheets of his bed, you run a hand along the soft material with a tiny smile. Only hours ago, you’d made love to him here for the final time.

Laying down in the place he always slept, you pressed his pillow to your nose and breathed him in. His scent would disappear soon enough, and you’d be left cold and empty of him. What would it be like, to never have to curl into his sheets and pillow and hoard every trace of him when he’d gone?

Tears fall in a slow trickle down your face to dampen the silk of his pillow in the quiet sadness of his room, and you lament the loss of your husband once more. Your quiet breakdown is almost peaceful, with Soyeon keeping staff away from your rooms to give you the privacy you so need. They wouldn’t understand why you mourn him.

You don’t know that in a carriage along a road at the same time, your husband is crying silently, his face stoic while his fingers clench tightly so as not to make any noise to alert his travelling companions. One day, he vows. One day he will never have to leave your side.

-

Epilogue

Thursday’s were simultaneously your least favourite and favourite day of the week. It was the day that your subjects were able to seek court with you, asking their monarch for favours or to resolve disputes, perhaps even suggest new laws and so forth.

You loved them because it gave you a chance to meet the very people you ruled over, and as an immortal queen you had plenty of time on your hands to get to know these people. It was likely that you would be overseeing the disputes of their grandchildren in the years to come.

They also often gave good advice that you would sometimes adopt into your own worldview, or suggested laws that were then debated amongst the lawmakers of your country. It was the perfect way to give the smaller people a voice in a society that perhaps didn’t listen as often as it should.

You knew that Hoseok was forever impressed with the format and thought it could perhaps work in Sanguinus, and when he was here then he would often sit in the accompanying throne and simply listen. In recent years, he’d even begun to quietly speak up and offer his own advice.

Perhaps the most surprising result of that was the your people didn’t hiss or spit at him. In fact, some had even taken his wisdom to heed. It filled you with a warm pleasure, resting in your chest to see the ever so subtle changes towards him over the years.

Of course, it wasn’t the outright acceptance you wanted but a hundred years was a long time. It meant your people had grown accustomed to his presence over the fifty years that he had resided in your kingdom, and you tentatively hoped that they would not consider him to be a threat to them.

He was, after all, their co-ruler.

Today had passed like all other days, with peasants, the middle class and even some of the lords and ladies of the Court coming to for you advice or to vent their anger. You were currently having to deal with two ancient families with a blood feud who were currently arguing over who owned a certain area of land.

Perhaps you would have been more forgiving with them, given that they were important families in your Court, but this was the ninth time that they had come to you in only a year and your patience with their incessant complaining had grown thin with their tiresome ways.

Sitting with your chin in your palm as you watched the two matriarch's of the family become increasingly loud in tone as they argued, you pondered if your posture was even remotely ladylike, nevermind befitting of a queen. And yet, you found yourself uncaring.

If Hoseok had been here, he would have sighed heavily at their pettiness and their constant threats of spells and hexes before leaving. Your husband had a short temper when it came to things like these people, and you found that your normally extended patience had shortened dramatically with them.

“Lady Elabaria, Lady Winania. May I interrupt for a moment?” You say, the question more of a statement that dared either of them to talk back or argue with their queen. A small, childish, part of you wanted them to try.

It would give you the perfect excuse to ban them from the castle for a whole year. Then you would have a whole year to no longer listen to them.

Unfortunately however, they are well-trained Court members and immediately cease their whining and threats to face you with bowed heads. Sighing heavily, you sit straighter and look over the two with a critical eye.

“I understand your concerns, but I must admit that I am becoming weary of hearing the complaints from both sides. This issue has gone on too long and frankly, you are taking up valuable time that could be given to other loyal subjects. I apologise for the harshness of this, but I have given both of your families ample amounts of time to resolve this issue and yet I find both families bickering like children once more. As such, I feel the only way to resolve this issue is for the Crown to seize the lands in question until the two families come to an agreement. Once an agreement is realised, the Crown will relinquish the land to the accepted owner. Now please. Leave.” You wave a hand as you speak the words and the air around you shimmers for a moment, the magical binding of your words sealing in a golden glow.

The two matriarch’s stare at you with eyes wide in shock before they narrow in unhappiness. For a moment, you ponder if perhaps they might turn on you and you prepare to tell them why this would be a silly decision on their behalf. It’s pointless however, as they instead turn to each other and begin to argue once more as they exit the throne room.

Watching them go, you look over at the advisors who sit at a panel along the side of the expansive room with an exasperated glance. Park Jimin, the Keeper of Words in your Court, gives a silent laugh as he shakes his head at their antics.

The peasants of your kingdom are far easier to deal with. They also don’t come with the arrogance or sense of self-entitlement that the upper classes come with.

“This is the last one Your Majesty.” Soyeon whispers from your side and you turn to look at her. She’s wearing an elegant dress of purple and silver today, her highest quality dress to make sure she gives the best impression to the subjects of your kingdom. You’d already complimented her on it and how it worked wonderfully with her hair, which had caused a sweet flush to grace her cheeks.

Nodding to her, you give her a tired smile. “Good. I’m looking forward to whatever culinary delights Jin has made tonight.” At the very thought of the food your chef makes, your stomach rumbles in hunger causing you to sigh. He’d made a most delightful stew yesterday, and you were hoping for something equally as filling for the cold winter day.

Turning back to the final person, you sigh in gratitude that your long day is almost over. As much as you enjoyed these days, they also left you feeling stiff and awkward from having to sit on the uncomfortable throne for as long as you did. Not to mention the heavy tiara that rested on your hair, a symbol of your ultimate power in the kingdom.

Perhaps you complain too much though, you reason to yourself. There are many in your kingdom who do far more work than you without complaint.

The final visitor is a sole traveller, their head covered in the hood of their tattered robe and you eye them over. The robe brushes the floor with each movement and you note the dust that dirties the hem, lightening the dark colour and wonder if they’re from one of the far reaches of your kingdom.

Normally, people dress up better to greet their queen. You say nothing though, and instead gesture with an elegant hand to them. “Speak your mind loyal subject. Your queen will listen.”

There’s a moment of quiet in the vast throne room and you shift in your seat, brows creasing in confusion as they do not speak immediately. Normally, people are excited to have the ear of their queen. You do not push them though, as you have discovered over the many years that some people are nervous about their request.

“Your Majesty. I come today to request your assistance. You see, I have a wife, and I love her very much. But our circumstances are awkward. People do not approve of us being together, for our families have fought for many generations. But I love her fiercely. And I’ve finally found a way for us to be together. I just need your permission to love her openly.” The sheer longing and love in the stranger’s deep voice makes your heart ache with a need to hold Hoseok.

His story sounds so similar to your own, and you find yourself pressing a hand to your stomach without meaning to in an attempt to ease the pain. You weren’t entirely sure why your permission was needed, but if the queen’s word could help to ease the path of love for this stranger and his wife then you would be loathe to hold it back.

You could at least help one relationship to be happy.

“Forgive me, stranger. I do not know if my words will bring you comfort or bring ease into your life with your wife. But you have my full blessing to love openly and honestly. Hold her tight, and always let her know how much you love her, for yours is a love that you have fought hard for.” Your words are perhaps a little more filled with emotion than would normally emerge from you, and you can see the confused frown that Jimin is giving you as the words you speak magically appear on the scroll he is holding.

There’s nothing for a few seconds, and you wonder if perhaps the stranger has more to say. But then he laughs and you freeze in confusion, brows coming together as your heart races with anticipation while your mind pauses in hesitation.

“Thank you for your blessing, my queen. I have waited a long time for this day.” Staring at him in disbelief, you can tell that Soyeon and your advisors are looking between your stunned face and the stranger with confusion.

“No...it’s not possible.” You whisper softly before rising from your throne a hand to your chest while your other grasps your skirts, lifting almost subconsciously as you make your way down the steps. Shaky steps are made towards him and your breath is coming faster than normal, your senses firmly attuned to the man in front of you.

He lets out a breathy laugh, hood moving as he shakes his head underneath it. “Hello, wife.” At that, he lowers the hood and reveals the bright smile of your husband. Your husband who should not be here, for it has only been three months since his departure.

The shocked gasps of everyone in the room let you know that you’re not imagining his astonishingly handsome presence and your eyes track over him quickly. Hair that has been flattened underneath his hood is still a sumptuous black while his golden cheeks glow with a healthy tan.

“Hoseok...how?” You gasp out, a shaking hand moving in front of you until it’s pressed to his very real, firm chest. He’s just as warm as always underneath the rough material of his robe and your trembling fingers untie it quickly, letting it drop to the floor and revealing the exquisite figure of your husband in an black riding outfit.

His hand comes to grasp your own tightly, thumb stroking along the soft skin of the back of your hand before he presses it to his lips in a sweet kiss. “I saw the Faerie Queen, like I said I would. I pleaded our case to her, in fact I spent three days begging her. She refused at first, not understanding that I was being truthful. I told her of our love, stories of us being together and even of our dream of a family and the babe we lost. I offered her anything I could give except you. My crown, whatever she wanted as long as we could be together.” He pauses, his eyes scanning the hall and noting the surprisingly neutral looks on your advisors as they watch him embrace you.

“I didn’t have to beg too much surprisingly though. Apparently, our dance at the masquerade seems to have given us away to the observant ones and she already knew. She didn’t take anything from me and though she is still angry over what happened, she understands that is is not our fault specifically. We are still cursed therefore but she modified it for us, to make it easier to live with. We have no time limit anymore. Our time, is ours. She apologises for the miscarriage also. She didn’t think that would ever happen as it never entered her mind that we might fall in love, and she knows well enough the pain of losing a child.”

The words are soft and only for your ears, but you don’t even care. You can’t find it in yourself to care. Because he is here when he shouldn’t be, and there is no pain or hurt. Only love and excitement.

“No six months?” You ask warily, resting your other hand on his chest while he holds your other with a firm grip. A beautiful grin lights up his face as he shakes his head slowly.

“We can be together as long, or as little as we want. Still cursed, but free to love as we want.” He whispers and you can’t stop the choked sob that leaves your mouth as tears fall. Over fifty years of wanting this, fifty years of desperation to have him like everyone has has their partner. And now, now you have him.

“I love you, you stubborn, beautiful, wonderful man.” You gasp, wiping at your tears. He doesn’t even get chance to respond before you push up onto the very tips of your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck firmly and pulling him down in a kiss so deep, so full of emotion.

The sight is probably shocking for everyone, to see their queen’s vampire husband here when he shouldn’t be. But what is perhaps less shocking to your most trusted people is the desperate kiss you give him while embracing him as tightly as you can. You don’t know it, but the people closest to you have long since guessed your feelings.

You may be cursed still, and you will be for the rest of your eternally long life, but you cannot think of anyone you would rather spend the rest of that long life cursed with.