#((aus for death anyone??? shakes can))

[alhavaradawnstar]

shit needs doing so naturally I am thinking about. The swap au

[pctaldrunk]

@caelestcs   /   a lil random pain (tm) for the one halloween meme even tho it’s not halloween anymore <3

[gumified]

WHISPERS OF GOLD

pairing: demon!satoru x human!reader

summary: when you're tossed as a sacrifice to the tyrannical king you're made to do the impossible, spin straw into gold. you know it's hopeless and that death awaits you yet when a demon appears how can you refuse his help?

content: 15.3k, smut, fluff, fantasy au, fem!reader, violence (not from gojo), masturbation (fem.), cunnilingus (fem. + male. receiving), unprotected, creampie, overstimulation, degradation, praise, dirty talk, fingering, squirting, pssy eating

note: i really like writing fantasy aus with gojo as you guys can tell. i sincerely apologise for the obscene word count that this fic has, please forgive me i got carried away with the world building TT. i've been cooking this one up ngl hope you enjoy!!!

Each girl, over the age of 18, enters every two months and not one returns. Some say that they are kept locked away, others say they are killed brutally. People speculate that the King is a murderous tyrant who had killed to earn the crown. That explains why no maiden has ever passed the test he sets. No one knows what the young women go through, if it's a physical test or a mental one. They have no hints nor is there any information given prior. The chosen ones can never say anything because they never return. The people who try to sneak inside the palace for revenge or simply out of curiosity are killed or horribly slain. 

In the Kingdom, there are only three types of people. At the pinnacle were magical beings - creatures or beings that possess Mana more potent than anything, they have the power to overrule any empire and their blood is more pure than any stream. 

Mana born children - the ones born with magical powers running through their veins, unlike the magical beings their blood isn’t pure, resulting in them losing to the magical beings. They are usually pampered with luxuries and money. The nobles are blessed with this title.

At the bottom of the hierarchy were the ordinary civilians—those devoid of Mana or magical abilities. They formed the majority of the population and were treated with disdain by the upper echelons of society.

The Kingdom’s hierarchy is unfair, yet no one challenges it for that would mean certain death. 

“Morning Mr Kou!” You call out happily. The village is bustling and the market is crowded as usual. 

“Morning Y/n. You look well.” The old man you approach is smiling kindly as he hands you two loaves of bread. “How is your father doing?”

You try to hide the obvious fall of your mood. “He’s still in the bar, you know how he is.” 

Mr. Kou lets out a sympathetic sigh, shaking his head. Passing you a jar of homemade strawberry jam, he catches your puzzled expression. "Take it, I've made plenty. And how's your little business going?"

“Thank you, Mr Kou.” You beam, dropping a few coins in his hand. “Perfumery? I wouldn’t call it a business, it’s just a little hobby I enjoy doing. It’s going well though, a lot of the village likes them.” 

“You’ll be making more than us soon.” He chuckles.

"I could never!" You gasp, a hand coming to your chest and you break out in light laughter. Mr Kou smiles and you say goodbye, setting off. 

As you walk through the market, people greet you good morning and give you sweet smiles. The sun bathes the scene in a golden glow, and the joyful laughter of children fills the air as they dart between stalls. One bumps into you and he apologises profusely, running away before you can say anything. The little village you grew up in holds many memories, you practically knew everyone here, but there's a looming shadow of uneasiness that settles across the village. 

The two month period was nearly up meaning that another girl would be chosen to enter the palace soon, never to return. No one wanted it to be them. No one. And even though there's a small chance that anyone from your village would be chosen from the entire Kingdom, there was still a chance it could be you.

"If it isn't my best friend in the whole Kingdom." Rei sidles up beside you, her dark hair in a loose braid to the side. "I got you some flowers." She holds a bouquet of multi-coloured tulips, nicely wrapped in purple tissue.

“You sure those aren’t for Ayato?” The corner of your lips lift into a cheeky grin when you see her eyes widen. “The two of you have been getting awfully close lately.” You wiggle your eyebrows.

“Shut up.” She smacks your arms playfully, letting out a giggle. The both of you had known each other for years, starting when you had nearly broken the flower vase in her mother’s shop, blossoming a friendship. From that day onwards you would constantly visit Rei’s ‘flower land’ as she called it when she was six. You also got free flowers whenever you wanted, so that’s always a plus.

Ayato Inoue was the son of the local boutique owner. His mother made quite a lot of money, many nobles visiting her shop gave the family a lot of riches. He, however, took an interest in carpentry. Loving the way wood could be easily moulded with his fingers, how it could be shaped and designed with intricate patterns. 

He had met you and Rei when the both of you were teenagers, roaming the woods trying to find medicinal herbs to help your sick father at the time. It was a shock when he had tumbled down from a tree landing unceremoniously on Rei with a loud thunk. 

The two were smitten with each other and you resorted to helping both sides. 

“They’re for you Y/n.” Rei places the bouquet in your arms. “An early birthday present.” 

“My birthday isn’t until next week.” You giggle, sniffing the flowers. The delightful, sweet scent fills your senses. The honeyed tones take you back to the fresh spring and the blooming flowers around the lake. “Thank you though, they smell lovely, I can make great perfume!”

“I know your birthday isn’t until next week, like I said it’s an early birthday present. I won’t be able to make it for your birthday this year, remember?” 

You vaguely recall the one afternoon when Rei was excitedly explaining that she would be attending a flower festival in the neighbouring town. She had the same light in her eyes whenever she would arrange bouquets and you knew how much this meant to her. Even if it was on your birthday she had spent multiple with you, one without her would be okay. 

Out of the corner of your eye you see Ayato waving at the two of you. There’s a bright smile on his face when he shouts both of your names loudly causing passersby to look at him, irritated. A stall in front of you, selling freshly churned butter, latches onto your attention.

“Rei, why don’t you go accompany Ayato.” You push her towards her crush. “I’ve got to finish up my shopping and I’ll meet you guys at the normal place, okay?”

“Please don’t leave us alone together again.”

“No promises.” You say simply before skipping to the stall. 

The overpowering scent hits you like a truck and you inhale the light hints of sweetness in the air, swirled with the familiar hints of dairy. The young girl running the stall can't be much younger than you, maybe two or three years. Fair hair tied in a neat bun and by the tanned colour of her skin she stays in the sun milking cows for hours in the day. She shows you what she's offering and the rows of fresh butter is something that must have taken her hours, even days, to make.

"Must have a lot of cows." 

She looks up and a laugh slips out of her lips. "Yeah, but I love them like crazy." She waves her arm in front of the simple display on the stall. "Anything you're interested in?"

"Just plain old butter." You hum, watching as she nods, packaging your order in a small paper bag. She tells you the price and you drop a few coins in her hand, giving her an extra gold coin to which she protests. "Nope, you keep it! Thank you." You press the coins into her hand before skipping off.

The next stop is the flower shop, even with the bouquet in your hands you didn't want to turn that into a perfume, after all it is your birthday present. A shock of colour greets you when you open the door, red roses, purple irises, yellow sunflowers. You pick up each flower, bringing each to your nose as you smell the delicate scent, placing them into your basket if you deem them worthy. 

There’s nothing too special about your day, there’s nothing special about your life to be fair. However, as you settle down for the evening and the fire crackles as you look up at the full moon you wonder if, just maybe, there could be something more. You drift off to sleep as usual, conscious dancing away as you let your eyes droop with sleep.

It’s eerily quiet, even for a Monday. Shops are empty and there are only a few people milling around. Not even the old lady by the fountain is there (she’s usually begging for spare coins). You had originally planned to buy some meat for dinner but the owner, Mrs Lee, isn’t by her stall like normal.  

There’s a small crowd around the local pub that draws your attention. As you walk closer people give you pitiful looks and they express their condolences. You don’t understand what's happening but there’s an uneasiness that settles itself in the bottom of your stomach. Ayato bounds up to you, panting.

“Y/n!” He grabs your hand, pushing away the crowd to reveal a poster nailed to the wooden wall. The first thing you notice is that it’s got your name plastered in big letters across the top. The second thing you notice are the words ‘next maiden to enter the palace’. 

Now the crowd is silent as they watch you read over the information. There are people looking at you sadly and those who knew you since you were a baby have tears in their eyes because they know this is it. 

You don’t cry. You don’t scream. You don’t react.

The only thing you do is grip Ayato’s hand and say. “The guards are picking me up on my birthday.” A round of unsettled murmuring erupts from behind you. Nevertheless you put on a brave smile. “I better make the most of my time left then.”

No one dares to speak when the guards come to pick you up in the morning. There’s nothing fancy about the simple white dress you're wearing. Ayato’s mum had insisted she make you an extravagant gown but what use is that when you’re going to die anyway? Even though the carriage that is meant to be escorting you looks regal, it doesn’t mask the fact you’re being treated like a prisoner. 

The guards don’t let you walk by yourself, preferring to drag you along by your arms, there are multiple times where their grip would tighten, making you wince in pain. When you take one last look at the crowd you realise a pair of familiar eyes staring back at you. 

Rei blinks, tears threatening to escape from her eyes. She can’t do anything and even if she did the guards would probably slit her throat on sight. Ayato must have told her about you getting chosen. You feel partly to blame that she has to miss the flower pageant she’s been so excited to go to. But there's another part of you that's glad she's here. At least you get to see your best friend one more time before you're whisked away.

“Foot. In.” A guard growls, prompting you to properly get into the carriage. He, like the others, isn't looking at you. Their armour clad bodies are faced away from you as they close the door. You cast one last look at the village you grew up in. It hurts that your father isn’t here to see you off but you weren’t expecting anything from him anyway.

The journey to the palace isn’t a comfortable one. You encounter many bumps on the road and your back hurts even with the high quality padding on the seats. You’re not used to this treatment, whenever you would travel you would go by horse. The motions of the carriage had your stomach doing all kinds of tricks. 

You watch the scenery outside for a while. Looking at the green trees go by, followed by some pretty flowers. A few birds would often swoop down, allowing you a glimpse of their bright feathers. Since there’s no one to keep you company you find your eyes drooping quicker than expected. Sleep is the only way you could truly escape the cruel reality. 

“Get out.” 

Your eyes snap open when you feel someone grab your arm, pulling you out of the carriage. It annoys you that you had barely got a wink of sleep before you were shaken awake. There were already red marks on your arms from where they had gripped you last time. 

“I can do it myself.” You hiss, tugging your arm away from him, stepping out on your own. He doesn’t bother to reply, only letting out a soft scoff. 

The palace is much grander than you expected. It was meant to look magical and beautiful but it only had a dark grim aura around it. The curtains are drawn shut and four turrets rise high in the sky, looming over. There's nothing magical about this.

When you enter the grand doors, there’s a chandelier that greets you. Tiny crystals dangle down, reflecting from the sunlight shining in. The place is dusted in gold. There’s a soft patterned rug beneath your feet and you inspect the swirls of dark purple thread. 

A family portrait, hanging from a wall, catches your eye. There’s a man with light blonde hair and a slowly receding hairline yet he has the most captivating jewel-like eyes. That’s the previous King Avery and next to him his wife, Queen Letitia. She was blessed with ruby red hair and a beautiful smile. Her eyes were the loveliest shade of blue. People used to say that once you saw her you wouldn't be able to look away and now you understood what they meant.

You remembered the time when the both of them ruled. You had only been little but even then you could still hear the crowds noise at the yearly festivals. The smell of sweet hot chestnuts and savoury meals. The burning of gunpowder from the fireworks mixed with the stench of bittersweet alcohol. Everyone was always so happy. The Kingdom was at peace but that's in the past. 

When the two had passed away the crown passed to their eldest son, Mikhail. He had inherited his fathers jewel eyes and his mothers fiery hair. He had a warmth that exuded from the family portrait that hung above. Both parents had doted on him. Sadly, the crown had only lasted on his head for so long. 

The story isn’t clear but one morning, when the maids went to wake him up, he was found dead in his bed. There weren’t any signs of who the killer was or even if it was an assassination. So, at the age of 15, young Prince Kael was crowned King. 

Unlike his brother he had dull grey eyes and a bad temper. The red hair he possessed reflected on his power to burn a whole village down if he was angered. His eyes on the portrait were lifeless and unlike the rest he was not smiling. People thought that he had killed Mikhail for the throne and even if the rumours were true, no one had validated them. 

Someone from behind you pushes you forward causing you to stumble and you brace yourself already knowing you were going to fall. A pair of arms catch you and you open your eyes to see dark grey orbs staring at you. The man has a scowl on his face.

“Sorry Your Highness, the woman seems to be clumsy.” A guard snatches you away from the King’s arms.

“Even if she is a prisoner here, you shouldn’t push her around. Understand?” Something flickers in his eyes and you get a glimpse of the tyrannical King everyones so afraid of. The guard in question simply nods, not daring to say anything else. The King turns to you. “So you’re the lowly commoner that has Mana running through her veins and a face like a goddess.”

You don’t speak. Normally, you would have glared at whoever called you a ‘lowly commoner’ but this time it’s different. You had your father to blame for getting you into this situation. He just had to get drunk and brag to a guard about his daughter.

“Would you look at that? We've gotten a strong one.” He chuckles, reaching out to brush your cheek but you dodge his hand. “You do realise that if you don't pass the test I have for you, your life is gone.”

“What exactly is this test?” The words come out before your mind can comprehend anything. Kael only grins wickedly.

“Glad you asked.” He motions the guards to help drag you across the floor and up the winding staircase. The higher you went, the colder it seemed to be. Finally, you reached a wooden door with a huge lock. He swings the door open and a pile of straw and a loom is inside. You stand, confused. Did he want you to make him a straw blanket or something?

“Spin straw into gold. That’s all I ask.” He doesn’t give a reaction that he’s joking. You feel the panic well up in your chest. “You have three days, starting tomorrow.” Then he leaves.

It hurts when the guards throw you onto the ground. They don’t speak a word when they lock the door, leaving you in the cold barren room. You shiver unconsciously, they haven’t even bothered to give you a blanket to cover yourself with. The room wasn’t big, there was a bed in the corner and only one tiny window where light could barely shine through. There aren’t any glass panes and no one could look in much less spot you. The room is pungent and if boring had a scent this would be it. 

The pile of straw takes up most of the room with the exception of the small loom placed in the corner. You begin to feel hopeless, remembering what the King had said a few minutes ago. No one could spin straw into gold in three days, therefore your life would end. There was no solution to your problem but you were still determined. Maybe it was magic straw or maybe it was enchanted to change into gold if it met the right person. 

You approach the pile. It was no bigger than a baby elephant and for someone with magical abilities turning this into gold would be no problem at all. You, however, weren’t gifted with such abilities. Even if you did manage to find a way you would have to stay up all night and you could already notice the sun beginning to set. 

It’s impossible.

This was a trap set up for death. No one could survive it. Suddenly, you feel sorry for all the girls that were once put in the exact place you were in. Now you know how all the previous girls felt in your place, they must have given up as well. Given up to be killed instead. 

It’s a well known fact in your village that your father was boastful and arrogant, if he had kept his mouth shut maybe you wouldn’t be in this position. There was no reason why he even needed to tell everyone you, a lowly commoner, possessed Mana in your body. He also didn’t need to brag about your beauty, it’s as if he didn’t realise the King would catch whiff of his lies sooner or later. 

You don’t know when you fall asleep. Your eyelids close by themselves and your body’s shivering, no blanket to keep you warm from the cold cell. The whistling of the wind sings you a lullaby to sleep and you let your worries slip. 

“Seriously? Another one?” A voice mutters and you hear a low growl. “At least this one’s prettier than the rest.” 

You’re still half asleep when you open our eyes, tired. It doesn’t hit you that there’s someone looming over you until the man smirks. His sapphire eyes draw you in and you forget how to use your voice momentarily and you only snap out of it when his eyes flicker to a bright ruby red then back to the coal black it once was. 

“You’re what? Number 63?” He groans, ruffling his white hair. It’s tousled perfectly and there are strands that stick out. However, his hair still looks impeccable even after he runs his fingers through it repeatedly. “Seriously, you’re probably scared of me aren’t you, human?” He kneels down so you can look at him without breaking your neck.

Up close, you can examine the beauty of his facial features. Eyes that are big and round that you’re sure once held the innocence of a child. Sharp jaw and skin so smooth and pale. His lips are tinted red. Plump and plushy. It strikes you that his flawless face didn’t look human at all. Actually, there is nothing that will give him away, that is if you didn't look closely. 

“What are you?” 

“W-What am I?!” He splutters, completely dumbfounded. You nod, hoping that you didn’t anger this non-human. “I’m a human of course.” He puffs out his chest confidently, like he didn’t just give himself away a few seconds ago.

“You called me a ‘human’ just a while ago. So it’s either you have a really weird god complex or you’re not human. And judging by the way your eyes can change colour, which only magical beings can possess, you’re not human at all.” You scoot away from him, maintaining a good distance between the two of you. “Now tell me, what are you?”

He scowls. “Smart one, aren’t you?” He sits down, lighting a fire in his hand, making you gasp. He grins wickedly, creeping towards you. “You want to know what I am, little human?” You gulp when he leans in close so you could feel his hot breath against your neck, whispering.

“I’m a demon.”

You leap backwards, crossing your arms over your chest. Though you had no Mana, you were taught how to pack a good punch by Ayato. 

Demons are rare in the Kingdom but you can still find them lurking, mingling with humans. Their kind was eradicated years ago yet some still survived. They grew in secret, disguising themselves like humans to blend in, to keep safe. Mana flowed through their veins instead of blood, the possessed magical abilities much more powerful than any other magical being. 

Parents taught their children to stay away from anyone with jewel like eyes and a face that seemed too good to be true. You were taught the same. Demons are known to inflict terror and fear on their victims. They hate the existence of humans, the exact kind that destroyed them. 

And here you are, in a room with one.

“So now you’re scared. Are you going to run away?” The demon grins, teeth blindingly white. “Wait you can’t, you’re locked in and the only way to escape is to spin straw into gold. Pity, truly a pity. Such a beautiful girl like you being sacrificed because of one tyrannical king.” 

“I don’t need someone mocking me when I’m going to die soon.” You snap. “And a demon at that.”

His grin widens and you can see how his teeth are sharper, almost like knives. “What if you don’t die?”

You frown. Don’t die. That’s impossible, you have to spin straw into gold. Even if you escape, which you can’t, you will be shot by the dozens of archers around the palace. Yet you’re still curious what this demon meant.

“How would I do that?” You ask.

He holds his hand out, smirking, eyes suddenly reverting to the shocking red. “Make a deal and find out.” 

That night you toss and turn, head filled with thoughts. Thoughts that shouldn't have been there in the first place. There’s no way you could make a deal with a demon. Making one would mean binding your soul to him, so you’re to obey his every command. It’s a contract between an owner and the dog, to which you are on the losing side. Not to mention the ridiculous predicament he had offered in exchange for your life. 

You wouldn't...sleep with him. It was clearly not right and you've never been taken to bed. It would be completely inappropriate. 

Yet the lewd thoughts of him moaning above you as you whimper and twitch helplessly beneath him has your panties soaking. The mere sounds of his delightful groans has your heart racing. The image of him plunging into your wet pussy, erotic sounds echoing off the stone walls. It didn't help that he had such an attractive face. Demons were always known to be amazingly good looking but you didn't think that they would look so beautiful. 

You close your eyes, imagining the way he would whisper into your ear, biting your earlobe as he trails wet kisses down your neck. How his hot breath would burn your skin as he mutters your name over and over again in a way leaving you wanting more. The only thing that was missing was his name but you knew that Demons would never reveal their name to someone because that would mean that they would have to obey that every person's command, no matter how dangerous or lethal. 

The feeling of your hot wet core has you squirming. It’s stupid how something like him was able to provoke such an intimate reaction from you. The painties you're wearing cling to your folds and you haven't brought a change of clothes. However, the heat is too much to bear and you bury your fingers inside your pussy with no hesitation. There's something that unravels within you when you curl your fingers. You suppress the urge to moan, only letting small whines escape your lips. 

Unbeknownst to you, there are a pair of dark eyes, watching as you throw your head back in pleasure. Watching as you let little, cute moans escape from your lips. He grins smugly. 

"Looks as if the little human will be accepting the deal after all."

The first day flies by with you pondering the deal. It stays in your mind for most part of the day, spare some time with you staring at the pile of straw. There are moments between the day when the guards will slip you crumbs of food and each time they would glance at the straw and give you a look of sympathy. The food they give is just enough, a slice of bread and a cup of water. Your stomach groans with hunger even after your meal. 

It's at nightfall when you hear the low crackle of a fire. You turn around, ready to throw a punch only to see the demon. He's dressed as if he's about to go to a funeral, black suit with a crisp black shirt underneath. He asks if you've accepted the deal and you vehemently shake your head. All he reacts with is a twitch of his lips that threaten to draw up into a gleeful grin. You don't plan to give in. So that night you sleep in peace. 

There are still two days left. 

When the sun rises you get up. Now you're more determined than ever to get this straw into gold. You stalk over to the loom, trying to thread the straw but it's too difficult. Your fingers are sore and they're starting the bleed. The straw starts fraying causing you to panic. There's the smell of burning wood and you try to look out of the tiny slot they have provided the room for air. You can't see anything but your best guess was that they are burning some trees or some rotten, old wooden swords.

The afternoon sun still beams down brightly though you can't see it. The stone room is cold despite the warm weather. You wrap your arms around yourself, hoping to get warmer. The crust of bread you had eaten had begun to digest and your stomach craved for more food. 

That night the demon comes back again, this time wearing a simple white shirt, the first few buttons undone. You try not to stare at the creamy expanse of his chest instead focusing on the fact you had less than 48 hours until your life would be ended. He once again asks if you accepted the deal but you decline, this time more hesitant. You don't want to give in, don't want to be binded to him, yet you don't want to die either.

You stay awake for most of the night. There's a sickening feeling that you hate. It eats you up, swallowing you whole. You know there's no other way. 

The morning of the third day awakens, the urge to hurl your stomach across the floor is more prominent. But you don't, mostly because you know that no one will care. You've given up on trying to spin straw into gold. If the cuts on your fingers said anything it would be to stop. Somewhere in your mind you're doubting yourself and you're doubting the choice you've made. However, you don't want to die and although you don’t want to admit it the demon sure is good looking. At least this way you'll be able to live. 

It's exactly when the sun sets that the demon appears. This time it's as if he's just woken up. Loose shirt that hangs off his frame, hair that looks as if he's just stepped out of a bath. You can see his defined abdomen through the white shirt and you can't help yourself when you stare. He doesn't have to say anything as he tilts his head, a growing smirk on his face. 

You take a deep breath. “I’ll accept.”

The demon’s eyes sparkle with victory and you hate it. “We’ll get started then.”

“Wait, what?!” Your eyes widen to the size of fists. “Why are you making this sound as if it’s a job?”

“Would you rather I treat you like my wife?” He raises his eyebrows at you expectedly and you suddenly feel embarrassed. 

“Well you could at least try to make yourself sound more seductive.” You scoff, gaining a little bit of confidence. “It’s like you’re not even trying.”

You watch as his eyes flicker back and forth from red to black. He walks closer, pinning you against the wall. There’s a faint smell of ash lingering on him and it somehow makes your thighs quiver. His nose nudges just below your ear and you close your eyes, feeling his hot breath graze your skin. 

He doesn’t say anything when he presses light, feathery kisses against your skin. You take a shaky breath, gasping when he starts moving his lips closer to your jaw. There’s a cocky look in his eyes when you meet them and you resist the urge to let out a sound of pleasure. When he pulls away, leaving you breathless, you try to rearrange your thoughts.

“Is that how you like it?” He pushes his tongue against his cheek. No words leave your lips so you nod dumbly. “It’s your first time isn’t it?” Again you nod causing him to let out a primitive growl. “I’ll try to take it easy, no promises angel.”

It happens too quickly and you don’t have time to catch your breath before his lips are crashing onto yours. They’re plump and soft and you could taste a hint of sweetness. You find yourself wondering what to do for a while but your worries are extinguished when he grabs your hands, throwing them over his shoulders. He pulls you closer and you melt against him.

All previous anxious thoughts about what you were going into were erased. His tongue flicks over your bottom lip and it tangles with yours. You feel yourself growing wet, panties sticking. It only shocks you more when his large hands come up to caress your cold skin, the difference in temperatures makes you shiver. You whimper when he pulls away. Your mind is foggy and filled with desire. 

He presses his forehead against yours, slipping your dress off. The cold air hits your skin with his touches lighting parts of your body on fire. His fingers travel down to your waist like little butterflies. They seem to dance across your soft skin. Slowly, he slides a finger through your folds, gathering your arousal between his fingers. You hold back your sounds of pleasure, afraid the guards would hear.

“Don’t do that.” He whispers, breath fanning across your face. Even though it’s quiet you can’t help but find him so seductive, so entrancing. It’s like he knows the effect he has on you as he rubs your sensitive bud. "They can't hear you, magic remember." 

You let out a small moan when his finger enters inside you. The stretch isn't much but it still has you squirming whenever he would prod a place that you could never reach. He bends down, attaching his lips to your clit, placing gentle kisses. He inserts another finger with ease, your velvet walls clamping around him and he starts pumping his digits inside you. 

"Feel good?" He murmurs against your hot skin, the ministrations vibrating through your body. It takes you by surprise when he curls his fingers, pressing down. "So pretty. Such a pretty pussy." He places a gentle kiss in your glistening folds and you whimper. You lace your fingers through his hair, gasping for air when he licks. 

Your chest heaves up and down, loving the way his tongue laps at your core, fingers moving, and a feeling filling you up in what could only be described as pure euphoria. The rhythm he’s moving at is slow and steady, with his wet muscle accompanying him it’s more than enough. You grip onto his hair as you let out a breathless whine, being unable to call him by his name only has you pleading in a different way. 

He looks up at you, fluttering lashes making him look almost angelic except he is sucking at your clit, tongue and fingers pleasuring you. “You’re holding onto me awfully tight, darling.” 

“Sorry.” You let your hands fly off his hair causing him to chuckle. He continues his movements and you’re reduced to a pile of pants. You smooth his hair from above, making sure not to tug too hard. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Don’t worry.” His eyes turn red. “I’m a demon, remember?”

It makes you hold his shoulders tightly when he prods his wet tongue as you keen at his touch, spreading your legs wider. You can feel his smirk against your core and you inhale sharply when he adds another digit, stretching your tight pussy out more. 

Every single sensation, every single movement has you moaning in his grasp, there isn’t a time where you didn’t feel good. The way he’s able to make your pleasure climb is unbelievable and at the same time you want more. 

There’s a new feeling that starts to build up when he thrusts his fingers harder, tongue continuing to play with your delicate clit. It has your mind blanking and you try to hold yourself still. He watches as your back arches and as your body writhes and twists at the uncontrollable desire that coursed through your body. There’s something about you that has him thrusting his fingers faster, eager to let you have your release. 

Your legs tremble and you feel yourself giving away. The newfound feeling washing over you like a tidal wave and it has you letting out a loud gasp as you throw your head back. All he does is watch, your tight pussy pulsing around his fingers, cum dripping out. You’re gasping, heaving for air as you feel your lungs burn. He laps it up, loving the way you taste and suddenly you’re all too aware of the mess you had created.

You don’t have words, all you can do is let out multiple sounds, all of which are filled with lust. He keeps working his fingers, thumb finding your folds, this makes you pant at the sensitivity, the mere feeling of being overstimulated puts your mind in a haze. He loves your reactions, the way your body twitches at his light touches to the way your voice sounds when you’re moaning. Albeit, his name never leaves your perfect lips but the way you’re submitting to him is more than enough.

He yearns for another orgasm, pushing you and your tight little pussy, trying to achieve something that he knows you can. It doesn’t take long for another gush of cum to come flowing out of you, your lips parted as you let out a silent scream. He lets you rest for a minute, focusing on licking up every drop of cum. Hush tongue pokes and prods, gently massaging itself on your pussy. Your fingers tangle in his hair once more, letting yourself succumb.

You lie, lungs desperate for air. It’s something you've never experienced before and now that you have, you crave for it. You cast a glance at the demon, his hair, now a mess, in between your legs.

“C-Can I…” You trail off, not sure how to phrase what you want. “Can I…”

He seems to know what you’re trying to say because he has a smug grin that’s overtaking his face as he crawls closer to your worn out body. 

“You can say it. Be a good girl and use those words.” His voice is deep and there’s an underlying hint of raspiness that has you feeling all sorts of emotions. Your cheeks light on fire when he licks a long stripe up your drenched core.

"C-Can I have your cock…?" You mumble under your breath. 

He grins, finding your answer satisfying. There isn’t a second that’s wasted as he lines his hard throbbing dick with your pussy. You nibble at your bottom lip, casting an anxious glance at him. He smiles gently, whispering that he isn’t going to do you any harm. You let out a strangled cry when he pushes in. The feeling is much different to his fingers, the girth so much thicker and you can feel the way it’s so slowly filling you up as you gasp for air. He stops for a moment, letting you adjust.

“You okay?” He asks, warm hands massaging your hips as you squirm above him. “I’m not going too fast?”

For a soul sucking creature he sure is awfully nice. You shake your head, eyes pleading for him to move. “I’m okay.”

His movements start off slow at first, pushing in and out at a steady pace. It still makes your body fill with desire and you gasp whenever he thrusts in. It’s when he picks the pace up, sliding faster, hips snapping to yours. He’s growing rougher and you love it, voice begging for more and more. Every moan and whimper that leaves your lips is accompanied by a praise from the demon as he fucks you to heaven.

The way his cock stretches you out and the way your walls clamp around him. Every single thing is something you could never dream of. His cock pulsed inside your gummy walls and your hands clawed at his back, desperate to grip onto him for support. Various sounds are elicited out of you and the demon grunts from above. You can see the bead of sweat dripping from his forehead, eyes dark as the night but they hold so much passion. 

“Feel good angel? Got such a loud pussy on you, you hear that?” The wet lewd sounds fill your ears and you try to focus but all you can hear is the continuous pounding as his cock plunges into your pussy. “She’s just so loud isn’t she? Nasty pussy.”

His words have you reeling and you gasp at every thrust. You babble and scream at the sheer fullness of his cock as it fucks you deeper and deeper.

“A-Ahh! Shut u-up, ‘s embarrassing.”

The demon only grins at your words, cooing softly as you flush from heat. His thrusts quicken as he pounds into you harshly. It’s your first time but he feels as if he’s wrecked you multiple. He feels as if the world’s in his hands as your walls pulsate around his cock. You writhe around below him, moans escaping your beautiful lips, each one growing more and more erotic. He’s already decided he loves seeing you desperate and powerless beneath him, grinding your hips against his.

“You’re such a dirty girl aren’t you?” His voice is deep, laced with menace. He loves the expressions you make, the way you react to the most littlest of things, the way your body is so sensitive. A mere touch can light sparks inside of you. He leans down to whisper in your ear. “But you’re my dirty girl.”

Every word that comes out of his mouth never fails to make your stomach light aflame. You gasp and squirm, hands automatically finding the way to his broad shoulders. You hold onto them as he fucks into you. The demon’s mouth crashes onto yours, swallowing every one of your sinful sounds. His fingers massage the supple flesh of your breasts, cupping them in one hand as they bounce. His thumb brushes over your sensitive nipple, causing your body to jolt in surprise. 

“Taking me so well.” He watches, amazed, at how your pretty pussy sucks his cock in. You whimper at his praise, sparks igniting within you, something you’ve never felt before. “Tell me how well you take me.” He smirks as he notices how you divert your eyes.

You don’t respond and when you look back you see his eyes narrow at your reluctance to speak. Before you know it he’s lifting your legs higher, his cock reaching deeper. A moan leaves your lips as you struggle to comprehend what is happening. Your mind is hazy and your mouth is open, saliva trickling down your chin.

“I asked you a question slut.”

“So well. So so so well, I take you s-so well, nghhh, oh my god!” You pant under your breath, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. His thumb and forefinger come up to grip your chin, pulling you closer to him. 

“Repeat that for me, darling.” 

You search his eyes but you find nothing but lust and desire. He grins wickedly, cock thrusting into you harshly. You can feel every inch of him, every pulsating vein that carves into your walls. You gulp, wide eyes never blinking as you stare at him. “My pussy t-takes you so well, mmphh, so so well. Need it deeper, please please please, feels s-so good.””

The words make the demon feral and you feel yourself seeing the stars at the sheer force. He fucks you even harder, grinning as you thrash against his grip. The fire in your body continues to spread, heat swallowing you whole, refusing to let go of you. You throw your head back, little soft moans escaping your delicate lips as you buck your hips up to his, desperate to cum. The tainted sight of your body in his arms makes him groan. Your once bare neck is now littered with bruises that he created. The mark of his. The demon loves knowing that your innocent being is now stained with his essence, one that will stay there forever.

“I’m c-close…” You manage to get out between pants, beads of sweat rolling down your forehead. You squeeze around his cock, making him growl. “I’m s-so close!”

“Yeah.” He grunts, quickening the pace of his hips, cock sliding in and out faster than ever. You screw your eyes shut, digging your nails into his back and he hisses. “C’mon angel, cum for me, be a good girl.” He purrs.

Who are you to decline his order? 

“Ah ah ah! I-I’m gonna cum, gonna cum so much! F-Feels so so good, hnngh, gonna cum gonna cum.”

The fire inside of you finally bursts, dying embers rain down upon you, your orgasm wracking through your body, every tingle ricocheting off your bones. Your body spasms around his cock, and your cum flows out of your pussy, creaming on his cock. The many mutters of pleasure that leave your mouth are far louder than you expect and you find yourself letting out a strangled scream.

The demon’s cock is still pounding into you and soon warm cum floods your walls, mixing with your own. The warmth spills into your hot core and suddenly you feel so full, not like anything you’ve ever felt like before. His cock is still inside and the movements gradually slow down to a stop. He presses his sweaty forehead against yours and you feel your heart beat faster. You see how his hair, now damp, sticks to his head, eyes twinkling like stars.

You hiss, wincing when he pulls out. The strange feeling of emptiness is one that you’re not used to. The demon hushes your cries with his lips, smoothing our hair down with his hand. He snaps his fingers and suddenly there’s a warm knitted blanket wrapped around your body. The sticky feeling is no more and you feel more comfortable with the wool around your shoulders. He watches as you nod off, eyes drooping and you faintly hear soft words being sung and though you can't make out the exact lyrics of the song you know it’s something you want to hear over and over again.

When you wake up the next morning, the demon's gone and he leaves a pile of sparkling gold coins. Each of them look brighter than the next. They could buy a house for a family. But it's not the gold coins that keep your attention, it's the memory of last night that sticks to your mind. You remember the way he had sung you to sleep and the way his voice sounded so beautiful, so euphoric. 

You remember the way he had cleaned you up afterwards, tending to you with utmost care that you had nearly forgotten what he was. And even though there are parts of last night that send tingles up your spine, it was what happened after that made your cheeks heat up and your heart go fuzzy. The wool, knitted blanket has fallen to your lap and you clench it in your hand. It’s so soft and you wrap it around you, inhaling the comforting scent.

It saddens you a bit when you realise he's not there when you wake up, but you have no time to dwell because you can hear the door open. You hurry to shuffle back up, quickly stuffing the blanket to one corner in order to not arouse any suspicion. You don’t say a word when the guards step in. They look unbothered at first but once they catch sight of the gleaming gold where the straw once was, their eyes widen. When their gaze lands on you, you look down, afraid that they would see through you and your lies.

There are hush whispers that are exchanged between them and you briefly hear the words ‘his highness’. You force the lump in your throat to go down, hoping that he will release you. A few minutes go by before Kael comes bursting through the doors, eyes filled with rage. You’re scared. You did what he asked, why is he angry?

A flitting thought passes by that he knows that you had made a contract with a demon crosses your mind however you shake it out. Demons keep their contracts extremely confidential and they make it their pride and honour to withstand that.

“You!” He seethes, lunging for your neck. “How did you do it?!” His grip on your neck isn’t too tight but it’s tight enough that it hurts and you aren’t able to speak. It’s like he reads your mind as he immediately releases his grasp, throwing you onto the floor.

You let out a few coughs, rubbing your sore neck. 

“Tell me how you did it?” 

“I did as you asked, straw into gold, now set me free.” You don’t bother to look him in the eye. 

There's a momentary silence that fills the room and the guards exit without being told. Kael stares down at you, his grey eyes looking like a raging storm. “Free?” He lets out a laugh. “You don’t get to be free until I say so, love.”

You open your mouth in protest but close it when you see his hand rest on the sword by his side. Your blood boils and you keep yourself from lashing out, not wanting to be slain on the spot. Fine, if he wants you to spin straw into gold once more, you will. He has to let you free. 

“It seems as if three nights is much too generous and this mere pile of straw.” He picks up the gold, inspecting it as if it was dirt instead of money. “But I'm not cruel, I'll give you the same amount of time to spin double the amount. The guards will deliver the straw later in the afternoon, I expect you know what happens if you don’t succeed.”

He leaves, not sparing a glance as he struts away. Not cruel? Not cruel?! He's delusional if he thinks he isn't cruel. You sit still, thoughts processing in your mind. The guards don’t say anything as they relock the door. 

The afternoon comes by sooner than you expect and you watch as another batch of straw is wheeled in. This batch is twice the size of the first one, it covers most of the space in the room. You feel your hopes start to dwindle, wondering if the demon will show up tonight, like he did before. 

What if it was a one time thing?

As the hours go by, with no sign of a demon appearing, you start to accept your fate. The sun has already set and the moon is high in the sky. You are sure the hour is late and your eyes are starting to get heavy with sleep. Everything’s so tiring and with all the newly added stress it’s nice to finally get a rest. Pulling out the blanket you wrap it over your shoulders, shuffling to adjust into a comfortable position.

There’s a loud crackle when you let your eyes close and they flicker back to life. The demon is standing in front of you, clothes tinged with smoke and there’s a little fire that he tries to pat it down. He’s cursing at the dying embers and you let a little giggle slip past your lips.

You let a tired smile take over your face, whispering softly. “Hi.”

He looks up at you and an expression of worry crosses his face. “Have you been waiting for me all night?” You nod, slowly finding yourself drifting away. He approaches you, sitting down beside your body. He leans your head on his shoulder, letting you rest. “Go to sleep, you deserve it.”

With his words you finally let yourself snuggle up to him, eyes fluttering shut. Your mind is already asleep as you shuffle around, trying to get into the best position. He looks at you, peacefully sleeping next to a monster who could suck your soul any second now yet he doesn’t, and he won’t. 

Soon, he feels his eyes start to droop and his head bobs up and down from sleep. The darkness envelops his sight as he feels your heart beat steadily against his chest. And slowly he drifts off as well, the two of you lying, snuggling for warmth as the moon rises higher. A pair of dark eyes watch the pair and the demon is too absorbed in sleep to notice the way the dark orbs flicker with fire and how they narrow. Then they're gone, disappearing in the dark sky, only traces that they leave behind is the scent of burnt cedar and bitter blueberries.

You awake the next morning to feel a heavy sensation on top of you and you lazily open your eyes, bleary from sleep. The rays of sunshine come through from the tiny window of air you're given. You see things sideways and you're wondering why until you catch sight of the arm around your waist and the scent of musky pine and vanilla. You scramble to sit up straight and feel your cheeks flush when you realise you've been lying on the demon's shoulder for the whole night. 

He looks beautiful.

Moving as slowly and quietly as possible, you lift his arm, trying to wriggle free from his grasp. It doesn’t work though because the demon’s awoken and he stares at you with bleary, sleepy eyes. You clear your throat, shuffling away from him.

“Good morning to you too.” He yawns, running his long fingers through his hair. 

“Did you stay here for the whole night?” 

He blinks. “Well, human, if I’m here right now I suppose that proves your statement correct, doesn’t it?”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the bluntness. “I’m sorry I think I should have phrased that better, why did you stay here the whole night?” 

This time he flushes, a subtle light pink dusting the apples of his cheeks. He shuffles awkwardly, avoiding your eye contact before whispering something that you can’t quite catch. 

“Can you repeat that?”

“I said.” He huffs. “I stayed because I was tired and...and because I wanted to.”

A small smile reaches your lips and you stifle your giggles at his flustered state. The demon meets your eyes and the two of you don’t break each other's gazes. Everything seems to break away in that moment and you forget the predicament you’re in, preferring to find solace in the creature in front of you. 

He’s the first one that looks away, prompting you to do as well. Your heart’s beating at an abnormal pace and your breath hitches when he pulls you closer towards him. His eyes fix on your neck and you’re unsure why until you remember the events of what happened yesterday. You shrink back as much as you can, Kael can't have gripped you that hard, can he?

"Did that bastard do that?" He grits his teeth and you see his eyes flash red. 

"It's honestly nothing, I'm fine, nothing wrong." You try to reassure him, pushing his hands off your neck. He frowns, tracing his fingers over your throat and you gulp at the soft touch. "W-What are you doing?" You stutter, suddenly nervous at his actions.

He doesn't say a word, finger gliding across your skin. He presses over the place Kael had gripped on your neck. A cool sensation rushes through your body and up to your neck and you suddenly feel much more revived. It feels like ice has just been applied and you see a hint of blue light flash before your eyes, a glowing circle and it bursts raining soft feathers around you. A refreshing scent of mint and the ocean breeze greets your senses and it's so relaxing. The demon smiles. You don't even realise that your eyes are closed until you open them and you see blue sparks, that indicate healing powers, flickering in his palm before it extinguishes.

"What? Demons can have healing abilities, we're not entirely evil." 

Now that your eyes are open you realise how close he is to you and your heart picks up again. Your eyes betray you and flicker down to his cherry red lips, ones that you're so desperate to kiss. The demon notices the way you look at him and he too tries not to let his urges take over.

"That's...cool." You're searching for something to say and when each word comes out of your mouth he can't help but look. "Can I ask for your name?"

This causes him to pull back immediately, he flinches as if he's been burnt with hot iron. Your eyes widen when you register what you had just asked. You're spluttering for an apology, trying to grab your words because you somehow think you've offended him but the demon just stares at you blank-faced. 

"You know I can't tell you." 

You pause before you hang your head in shame. "Yeah, I know."

"I can allow you anything but that."

And yet that's the only thing you want to know. 

"Well then…" You let your eyes drift to the pile of straw in the room. "I'm sure you've seen that."

"Yeah." He chuckles. "Need my help?"

You swallow the large lump in your throat, nodding your head. He grins as he approaches you and you back up against the wall. "Can there be a change though?" 

"Name it."

"Can I make you feel good?"

That's what makes the demon stop in his tracks, eyes widening. He coughs, spluttering for words. Everything he wants to say, or plans, has flown away and he can only stare at you, blinking like an owl. He can't help the thoughts that invade his head and he watches as you shrink back even further and he wants nothing more but to ruin you. Eventually, after you wave your hand in front of his face, he regains himself, clearing his throat.

"Are you going to make me repeat it…?" He hesitates for his answer and you don’t know if it’s because he’s nervous or he simply has nothing to say. “Actually you know what, it’s fine-” 

You stop, words stuck in your throat as he comes impossibly close to you. His eyes are so big as they stare at yours and you don't feel nervous, or the jitters. You feel calm. More than calm. When his lips press onto yours you can’t help but melt under him and it's soothing, maybe because you've already kissed him but every action feels familiar. 

His hands wander and you let him cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer towards him. The warmth spreads through your body and you tangle your fingers through his dark locks. You shift on the floor and his hands slip the straps of your dress below your shoulders. Goosebumps follow the trail his lips leave and you let out a quiet moan.

“You’re driving me insane.” He murmurs against your skin, hot breath fanning across your flesh. He locks eyes with you and You whimper softly feeling the weight of his gaze. Your eyes widen when he stands up to his full height and you suddenly feel intimidated by how he’s towering over you. "Fucking love it."

You watch as he unbuckles his belt, eyes fixated on the growing bulge. Your head spins in circles. Every kiss makes the darkness beneath your eyelids burst with colour. Your dress is long forgotten on the floor and all you can focus on is the pretty thing right in front of your face. His cock is red and it's throbbing as he strokes his hand over his length. You can’t help but stare in wonder.

"Open your mouth, angel." 

You obey, pretty lips taking his cock into your mouth and he groans. His fingers trace circles at the back of your neck and you peer up at him, long lashes fluttering against your smooth cheeks. He coos, stroking a large hand before cupping your face.

Curses leave his pretty lips, falling off his tongue and you watch his expression contort into one of pure ecstasy as you continue your movements. You pump his cock with your hands, tongue swirling around the head. You're not entirely sure what you're doing and you're doing what you feel is right. Sure enough the demon is squirming and moaning above you, urging you to go faster. You comply, pulling away to ask if you're doing okay and he wordlessly nods, pushing you back down.  

"Pretty girl, my pretty whore." He grins wickedly and you feel your pussy clench at the degrading term. "You like that? You like me calling you a dirty whore? That's what you are. My. Fucking. Whore." 

He punctuates each word with a thrust and you're rendered speechless, eyes rolling backwards into your skull. You're whimpering around him, tears collecting at your eyes and you plead at him desperately. Salvia drools from your lips, painting his cock with wetness. You know it’s messy but you don’t care. 

"Look at you." He coos, fingers wrapping around your jaw as he tugs you to look at him. "A mess around my cock. You asked for this angel." 

A warm feeling pools at the bottom of your stomach and it intensifies. You flutter your eyelids shut, enjoying the way you're being ruined. Each thrust of his hips into your mouth makes your body crumble, the arousal coats your pussy and you clench your thighs together. Your throat feels tight and your lips are permanently wrapped around his cock. You continue to bob your head up and down and each time the demon jolts his hips you’re hit in the back of your throat making you moan around his length. 

“So so so pretty, fffuckk, your mouth feels so good. You’re such a fucking whore, I’m gonna ruin this little mouth, fill it up with my cum.” 

You whimper at the thought. The feeling in your stomach only grows and you start to feel wet. Spit falls from your mouth and your whole body feels as though it’s on fire. There’s the same need and urge that you felt the other day and you’re desperate to release yourself to the desire that pools within you.

The demon above only groans at every lick and suck you give him. You watch as his face contorts, watching every expression with scrutiny. You watch as he squeezes his eyes shut, throws his head back and you watch the plushy lips part open as a guttural moan is released. 

Cum trickles into your mouth and your eyes widen at the hotness that spreads across your tongue. You swallow every last drop and the taste seeps into your mouth. It’s not entirely bitter yet it’s not sugary sweet either. A taste you can’t exactly pinpoint but you know that you would never get enough of. The demon watches starry-eyed at your obedience and he groans, tugging at your hair. He bucks his hips, murmuring praises under his breath. You smile when he places a light kiss to your lips and you feel yourself light aflame. It's a strange feeling and the kisses he litters in your body are gentle and sweet. Your name slips from his lips, soft and comforting and his eyes seem to twinkle and you feel yourself falling and falling. 

It's as if time stands still. The hours drag on and you thoroughly enjoy the time spent with the demon. He proves to be better company than you could have hoped for. Conversation mixed with humour lightens the mood and despite there being certain topics that aren't one to discuss, the two of you make do. You're still wary, keeping your guard up in case of anything and you suspect he knows as he doesn't prod your boundaries as such.

A day, free from worry, is one you bask in. The demon doesn't know what it is but something about you draws him in. Something about your curious eyes and joyful smile lights something within him. He has a vague idea of what it might be but it's impossible but he can't help but find himself feeling it anyway. 

But he knows the consequences will come. Sooner or later. And he hopes later. 

The land of Karnopia is vast and grand. Stretching far and wide, its borders seem to fade into infinity, concealing untold horrors within its depths. Here, amidst the desolate silence, the greatest concentration of demons known to existence find their domain. It’s silent and there’s only the soft crackling of dying embers that could be heard. It’s dark and gloomy, no light could be seen. Not many voices are ever heard and even if they are they would be screams of anguish and agony. 

"I see you're back, Satoru." A man with ghostly pale skin and shocking black hair remarks, his attention momentarily torn from his magazine as the demon enters the house. "You're returning later and later. This wouldn't have anything to do with that human girl you've contracted with, would it?"

“What’s it to you?” Satoru's lip curls in a snarl, his teeth bared defensively. He realises too late that his reaction betrays his vulnerability, a fact not lost on the man before him.

The man's grin widens at Satoru's response. "Ah, it seems I've struck a nerve. Could it be that poor Satoru has fallen in love?"

Satoru’s cheeks heat up, tinting with a soft pink flush. The memory of your bright smile and the sound of your melodic voice linger in his mind, stubbornly refusing to fade. With you, there's no clear boundary between contractor and demon; it's as if all his defences have crumbled in your presence, a vulnerability he knows is dangerous.

"Shut up." 

The demon's eyes flicker ominously, shifting from their usual dark blue hue to a fiery red. With a dismissive gesture, he discards the magazine and advances toward Satoru, his strides purposeful and unsettling.

"You do realise," He begins, his voice dripping with malice. "that if you've truly fallen for her, you're paying a higher price than she is." His words hang heavy in the air, laden with a warning that sends a shiver down Satoru's spine. "You're putting yourself in danger, as well as her. Her life can be snuffed out with ease. His Majesty won't take kindly to this."

“My father doesn’t like anything I do, so there isn’t a point.” Satoru snaps back, shrugging his jacket off, making his way up to his room. “And I know what I’m risking.” He doesn’t say more as he trudges upstairs.

There is no more to be said and the black-haired demon can do nothing but sigh, hoping his friend truly had everything under control. If Satoru's feelings for you are genuine, it could spark a conflict that would tear their world apart. A war that will divide everyone. 

Satoru slams his door shut, leaning against it as he exhales a shaky breath. His room, in stark contrast to the rest of the house, is a sanctuary. Dim light filters through heavy curtains, casting soft shadows that dance across the walls. It’s here, in the privacy of his own space, that he allows himself to think of you freely. His mind drifts back to the last time he saw you, the way you looked at him with such trust and affection. It’s a rare and precious thing for a demon to experience, and it’s something he treasures more than his own life.

Somewhere far away you lie, peacefully sleeping, not knowing that your demon was still awake, replaying the words he had heard. If his feelings are true he knows nothing good will come of this and all he hopes is that you will be safe. 

It’s weird to say the least. 

Lately, the demon’s been visiting you more often than expected. Usually it’s on the days you need help but now, he arrives at the crack of dawn and stays till the sun sets. You don’t know how long it’s been that you’ve been trapped. You don’t complain because, as much as you hate to admit it, you've grown accustomed to him. Dare say you like his company. It makes the cold cell more warm when he’s around. He doesn’t do much but talk and most of the time the two of you sit in comfortable silence. 

You still don’t know what to do. Or what Kael will do. He hasn't come to visit and you’ve been locked up for a couple of days since he came. You hope he’s forgotten about you but you doubt that was the case. 

It scares you when you think about it so you try not to give it much thought. You indulge yourself in thinking what Rei and Ayato would be doing right this moment. Home is something you think about often and it’s impossible not to feel sad about it. The demon’s here though, he makes things better even if it’s by a little bit.

“So you’re a perfumer?” He frowns. “Don’t you normally earn lots of money with that? How are you not...well, you know?” 

“Rich?” You scoff light-heartedly. “To get rich you need a business, silly, and to get a business you need some sort of advertisement that boosts the popularity of your product. However, no noble will buy my perfume considering my status in the kingdom.” You sigh, shrugging. “It’s just how life is. I’m perfectly content with just selling it to the people around in the village.”

“Yet you don’t want the world to know of your talent?” The demon snorts. “If I had such skills I would be raking in coins every day and feeding myself till I’m full.” He pauses, creasing his brow. “And I think it’s stupid how the nobility look down when they do nothing but sit on their ass all day.”

You let out a laugh at his statement, nodding your head in agreement. 

The loud thundering sounds of footsteps stop your slight happiness and once again you’re thrown into a pot of fright. You turn to tell the demon to go but he’s already gone so you busy yourself to pretend you are sleeping. The door slams open and you can feel the heat of the candle above your face. You tell yourself not to move. Not to make a sound, steadying your breathing. 

“Wake up.” A low voice grunts and you keep your eyes shut, hoping that they’ll go away if you feign sleep. “Wake up bitch.” A swift kick is delivered to your stomach and you cough at the impact, wincing as you grip your wounded body. 

“No need to kick the dog Derek.” A voice drawls from the side and you look up to see two guards, grinning like sharks. “We don’t want the pretty lady to have scars now.”

A hand reaches to grab your face and you push away, determined to resist the vile touch. The man’s silver hair is pushed back and he leans his face to yours. Your eyes are wide and you urgently try to get free.

“It’s a shame.” Derek sneers. “The King always brings such beautiful women but never lets us have a taste.” His tongue flicks over his lips and you hold in a shriek. 

Suddenly, a force whips both men off their feet and they’re on the ground before you can blink. You scramble away, free from the guards grasp and you feel an invisible hand caress your shoulder soothingly and you know who it is.

“What the fuck?!” The guard by the door says, holding his head as he gets back up. “The hell?!”

And then there’s a freezing temperature that sets in the room and the two guards' eyes go misty. Their bodies stand still, dropping their weapons as they slump like their ragdolls. You shuffle back until you hit the warm back of your demon.

“Shhh.” He whispers. You whip around to see him behind you, sparkling scarlet eyes. He beckons you over and you follow. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Warmth fills you and you try to maintain your rapidly beating heart. “Calm down darling.” His nose brushes the shell of your ear as his hot breath flicks over your face.

You watch the guards turn away and march like robots as they lock the door once again. They don’t acknowledge you or the magical being behind you. The room then returns to its normal state and you turn to see that the demon’s eyes have gone back to the black it once was.

You’re shaken to say the least. The demon takes his hand off you but you reach for it, gripping onto it for dear life as you snuggle back into him. He chuckles but lets you stay as he props his chin onto your head.

“Thank you.” You mumble.

The demon picks you up and lays you down so you’re facing the ceiling. He lifts your dress and you splutter, confused. He only puts a finger to your lips as he examines your bare stomach. The pain of the kick is still there and he lets his hand press down on the spot and you hiss. He whispers sorry before rubbing your wound.

You let your eyes flutter shut and they snap open when he gives you a kiss on the lips. You melt into him, moving your lips against his. Your heart is racing and you wrap your thighs around his waist, trying to pick yourself up but his hand pushes you down.

“You’re injured.” He merely says and his kisses start to trail down, across your breasts down to your stomach where he makes sure to take extra care. You squirm as if his lips are burning iron and your skin is ice. His eyes stay locked with yours as he continues to travel down. 

You pant as he kisses your core, licking through the fabric of your panties. You were already so wet and his tongue only made your body jolt with pleasure. You squeal as he pushes the flush fabric to the side to devour you. His fingers rest at your hips and you reach down to take his hand into yours. It’s as if sparks are flying everywhere and you whimper helplessly. 

“You’re so pretty Y/n.” He repeats, deepening the movements of his tongue. Each flick has you moaning with pleasure. You squeeze his hand, pussy clenching at the overwhelming heat as it overtakes your body.

"I could say the same for you." 

A low chuckle emits from his throat and he continues the blissful torture while you fall apart. You squirm as he prods your bud, eliciting moans out of your mouth. He’s so skill full with his tongue, every movement has you begging for more. Your hands tangle through his hair, tugging the strands as you whine. 

“So so sooo good! Oh my god, feels so g-good.” Your words are incoherent, mixed in with moans and mewls as you babble on and on. “A-Ahh!”

“Satoru.” The name falls from his lips effortlessly and you barely register what he’s said until he repeats it again and then your foggy mind is cleared, realising what he’s done. “My name, say my name, f-fuckk.”

“B-But…”

“Say it angel, wanna hear it from your pretty mouth, beg me for me to let you cum.”

You gasp when he thrusts his tongue inside you, making you fall apart as he laps greedily at your cunt.

“S-Satoruuu!” You let out a strangled gasp when his fingers press against your clit. He draws tiny circles, eliciting the most delectable sounds from your body. “Satoru ‘s so good, feels amazing, Satoru Satoru Satoru.” 

You chant his name like it’s the only thing you know how to do. All this time you had always secretly wanted to know who this demon was and now you did you couldn’t help but cling onto him desperately. His name was so pretty and you knew he would have you screaming it even louder soon enough.

Satoru groans at your words, the vibrations ricochet through your body and you squeak at the sensation. He slides his fingers through your soaking folds, engraved at the way his saliva coated you. There’s a mixture of spit and your arousal and Satoru can’t seem to get enough. He savours your sweet honeyed taste, watching as you spasm and thrash above him. He loves looking at you, seeing what reactions he could get out of you. 

“You’re so pretty, so so beautiful, god I could die happily with your pussy on my face.” The dirty words only make you wetter as you whimper at the vibrations that surge through your body. “You taste so sweet angel, f-ffuck, want more of you.”

There’s an undeniable mess between your legs that has been created and when you glance down to see the white-haired demon drinking you up as if you were the only thing able to quench his thirst, you can’t help but moan at the lewd sight. The noises fill your ears, the messy slurping and blissed out whines as you grip his hair. Your hips lift up, jutting yourself against his face as you rock your hips back and forth, feeling yourself getting closer and closer.

“Gonna cum gonna cum! F-Fuck ‘toruuuu!”

The nickname has Satoru going feral as he groans at your words, diving down to suck faster. His tongue thrusts in and out of you, fingers rubbing your clit harsher. He inserts two fingers into your sopping cunt, plunging them in and out as the delicious sounds amplify. You’re so wet and your arousal runs down his fingers, and Satoru can only watch in wonder as he laps greedily. You’re convulsing around him, screaming his anime over and over again while he ravages your body. Never in your life have you felt such intense pleasure and Satoru doesn’t stop. His movements are constant, low groans and moans that send electricity shooting up your body.

“C’mon angel, cum f’me, let me see this nasty pussy spray all over my face, wanna drink you up so baddd.” His voice is close to a whine and he’s just as fucked out as you as he begs you to release all over him.

Your mind is foggy, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull as you thrash violently as your orgasm bursts. You let out a strangled gasp as you felt liquid gush everywhere and suddenly the feeling of Satoru’s fingers and mouth are all too overwhelming. The sensation is raised to a hundred times more and you find yourself writhing with the utmost pleasure. His fingers swipe at your core and you see his face covered with your juices and you heat up, embarrassed at what you had just done. 

There’s a moment of silence before Satoru lets out a deep growl. His eyes darken and you feel your heart pick up while he stares at your spent pussy. You’re clenching around thin air and all the demon can do is watch as you heave breaths, forcing oxygen to fill your lungs as you try to calm down from your high.

“Give me another one.” He demands as he dives back down to make out with your pussy once more. His actions cause you to jolt, whining loudly at the sudden overstimulation. His breath is hot against your folds and you just melt at the way he consumes your cunt. “Want another one angel, g-god, want to taste you again and have you cover me in your cum, you’re s-so pretty wanna devour you so bad.”

Your noises die at your throat as you’re fucked stupid by his tongue. Your mouth is agape, tongue lolling out as you pant breathily. Satoru is relentless. He sucks and prods, urging you to release again. Tears leave your eyes and you feel yourself edge closer and closer. Your back naturally arches, pushing your hips forward as you feel your body get overtaken once again. Satoru whines against your cunt, lapping faster and faster until you’re gushing once more. He groans as you coat his face in a wet sheen. He’s slurping your juices messily, making sure none of it goes to waste. 

“Y-You’re so cruel…” You manage to breathe out as he finally lifts his head from in between your legs. There’s a smug smirk on his face and you see the playful glint in his sapphire eyes as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. 

“What do you mean?” Satoru’s voice is faked to be innocent and you scowl at the tone. He merely giggles at your accusation, climbing up to give you a kiss and you moan into his mouth as you taste yourself through him. You feel yourself grow hot all over again as his hands wander to your tits, squeezing them gently. 

“You k-know what I mean.”

“Hmm, don’t think I do.” He murmurs, his lips grazing your skin as he places soft kisses along your collarbone. Each touch sends shivers down your spine, and his gentle sucking leaves red blooming marks in his wake. His hands wander over your body, fingers tracing delicate patterns that ignite a warmth within you. He moves slowly, savouring each moment as if he’s memorising every inch of you. The intimacy of the moment makes your heart race, your breath hitching in your throat.

“Satoru.” You whisper, your voice barely audible. His name feels like a prayer on your lips, a plea for something more.

He pauses, his dark eyes meeting yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. “Yes?”

You swallow hard, trying to find the words. “I... I need you.”

A slow, teasing smile spreads across his face. “Oh, I know.” His voice is dripping with a mix of confidence and tenderness. “And I’m right here.”

With that, he captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. It’s a kiss that speaks of longing and desire. You melt into him, your bodies fitting together perfectly as if they were made for each other. His hands slide lower, fingers dancing along the curve of your waist and hips. You respond eagerly, your own hands roaming over his body, feeling the hard planes of muscle.

“Tell me what you need.” Satoru whispers against your lips, his breath warm and tantalising.

“You.” You breathe, your voice trembling with desire. “Just you.”

He shifts, guiding you gently to lie back, his body pressing down against yours in a way that makes you feel both protected and desired. His kisses trail lower, down your neck and across your shoulders, each one igniting a new wave of heat within you.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He mutters against your skin, his voice a husky whisper. “You’re so beautiful, fuck, all for me.”

Your thoughts only become more feral once he pushes into your plushy pussy. His cock stretches you out and you already feel fucked out from the sheer size. Satoru groans as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. His hot breath tickles your skin and you squirm, desperate for him to start moving. There’s nothing more addicting than him and you found yourself begging for more, constantly calling his name as he ploughs into your pussy. 

“Such a wet cunt hngh - so tight and warm, fuck wanna have you all to myself angel. You’re mine, got it? All mine, gonna take you away from here and - and have you all to myself, nghh fuck Y/n-”

His cock bullies into your pussy, moulding your walls to fit him perfectly. He hits your cervix so beautifully that it has you writhing and arching. Each movement makes you tremble and shake and you cry out his name repeatedly. You watch as he fucks into you, turning you into a mushy lewd mess under him. His white hair falls into his eyes and you can’t help but think he’s so sexy as he moans. Your hands loop around his neck, pulling him closer towards you. 

Satoru feels so good. He thrusts into you faster, cock splitting you open over and over again. Each stroke reaches a new deep part of your body that you didn’t even know existed. His balls smack against your ass, the sound tainting your ears. His fingers dig into your hips, gripping them hard as he pounds into your tight cunt.

“A-Angelll stop squeezing me s-so tight hah fuck!” 

Satoru whines and you’re close to seeing stars as you unintentionally clench around his cock. He’s so alluring as he towers over you and strangely enough you feel heat blossom in your chest. 

“Satoru-” You gasp when you feel him kiss your neck. His teeth scratches your flesh and you squirm in his grip. “Satoru Satoru s-stopp ‘m gonna cum, please please please, ‘toru too much hnghh ‘s too much!”

“C’mon angel, doing so good f’me, such a good girl angel, cum around my cock wanna feel you s-so bad.”

When you look at the demon looming over you you don’t recognise the blushing fucked out face that’s begging you to release all over him. He’s chanting your name as his cock pounds into you. You feel the sensation in your stomach tighten and you moan. The tip of Satoru’s cock hits your cervix and every time it does it has you whining and thrashing.

Your breathing picks up and you grind your hips against his. You feel him throbbing inside you, and somehow his cock grows even bigger causing you to moan louder and louder. You’re so wet and Satoru stares at the way you suck him in deliciously. He loves to see the way you take him in and he’s enamoured at the sheer feeling you provide.

“Satoru I’m gonna cu- oh!” You don’t get to finish your sentence before you’re convulsing around his cock, squeezing him from all that he’s worth. Your pussy releases all over him, your juices coating his body and it’s like falling into a warm endless abyss. His name’s a broken cry on your lips as you cum around his cock. 

“Fuck fuck fuck angel g-god love your pussy s’much, I love you s-so much!”

And then Satoru’s tumbling over his release. He’s a moaning mess as spurts of cum flood your gummy walls. You feel so so full and you feel his seed drip down your thighs. His cock still sits snugly in your cunt as you pant breathily. Thick hot cum flows out your pussy as he slowly pulls out and you wince at the feeling. 

Satoru cages you between his arms and you see the way his chest rises and falls rapidly and how his lips are tinted just the slightest hue of pink. He’s so pretty and it’s almost impossible not to fall for him. The both of you lie in silence for a while, basking in the aftermath.

“Do you mean it?”

You look over to Satoru and the demon’s already looking back at you. His eyes were such a piercing blue but the eyes that once scared you now provided comfort and you feel your heart race as you watch him. 

“Mean what?”

“You know what Satoru.” The name is new on your tongue despite you chanting it just seconds ago. His name, the thing that no demon was allowed to give, is now yours. You like the way it rolls off your tongue with ease and when you observe him closer you see the way his ears have gone red and how his eyes dart everywhere. 

“And what if I do, what would that mean?”

Satoru looks away and you watch as he tugs his shirt over his body. His hands reach up to his hair as he brushes it out of his eyes and you sigh. There’s fragile silence that envelops you both.

“It would mean everything.” You whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “It would mean that this...whatever we have...is real.” Satoru's hands still, his fingers tangled in his hair. He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt or insincerity. 

“I don’t know when this happened.” You continued. “But somehow, for some reason, I’ve grown to be more attached to you. I can’t go a day without seeing your face and I certainly can’t go forever without meeting you again.”

Satoru’s eyes soften, and for the first time, you see a flicker of vulnerability in them. “Do you really mean that?”

“Of course I do.”

“So you also…you know…love me…” His voice is barely above a whisper and you giggle at his awkwardness. 

“Maybe a tiny bit.”

The demon scoffs rolling his eyes as he shuffles further away from you. “Fine then, just go stomp all over my feelings, cruel human.” There’s a mixture of annoyance and teasing in his eyes and you can’t help but smile.

“I’m only teasing Satoru-” And he’s right in front of you as soon as you say his name. You gulp at the close proximity and you feel your heart beat rapidly. “Why’re so close?”

“Say it again, please.” And you do, you say his name and he asks for it to be said again and again. You watch as each time you do his smile widens and you gasp when he pulls you close to his chest. “It sounds so pretty coming out from your lips.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat as you recall the moment he whispered his name to you. “Why did you do it? Why did you give me your name?”

“Because it felt right.” His reply is instant and you lift your head to look at him. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before, something weird and…human I guess. But the feeling feels right and I know that giving you my name is the right thing to do. Plus, it sounds so perfect coming from you.”

Your heart flutters at his words and there’s mischief in his grin as he places a kiss on your forehead. Your hand reaches for his and you feel the sparks of electricity that pass between the two of you as you intertwine your fingers. A small smile makes its way onto your face and Satoru knows he’ll do anything for you for the rest of eternity.

“So when are you going to teleport me out of here?”

“Wow Y/n.” Satoru huffs out a breath immediately releasing his hands from yours. “Just using me for my powers now, I see.” You let out a laugh as you see the small pout forming on his lips and you can’t help but think he’s cute. Your laughter’s cut short as his hands grab your face, pulling you into a kiss. You melt into his embrace, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, pulling him even closer. 

When he finally pulls away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. His eyes are half-lidded, dark with desire, and a playful smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. “That’s payment, everytime I use my powers for you I require a kiss.”

You beam up at him, arms tugging him closer. “That’s a deal.” 

Your lips meet his and the two of you become lost in each other. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you even closer, and you can feel the warmth of his body seeping into yours. His taste is intoxicating, a mix of something sweet and something entirely Satoru. His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks, and you feel like you’re floating. As you pull back you can’t help but smile as the kiss lingers on your lips. 

“Where do you want to go?” Satoru asks.

“Anywhere, anywhere with you.”

Satoru grins as he kisses you again, short and sweet, before he tangles his hands with yours, hugging you close to his body. You close your eyes as you feel a rush of air brush past you. You grip onto Satoru tightly and you smile to yourself knowing that wherever he takes you, you’ll gladly follow because you’re his and he’s yours.

[solaireverie]

cl16 | are we out of the woods yet?

summary: [ charles leclerc x f!driver!reader — social media au / fic ] after you get into a rough crash, charles is faced with difficult decisions

request: can i get a female driver reader injury/crash angst with daniel, seb or charles pls love your fics!

warnings: crashes and injuries, general medical stuff, unspecified mentions of death (implied to be jules and hervé), open/unclear ending

author’s note: hihi lovely!! tysm for requesting <3 hope this is enough angst for you ;) also i have no clue how to write injuries soooooo just roll with it

5,891 likes

ynupdates y/n has been taken to the medical center following her crash in the #brazilgp. no further news has been released yet. we're all behind you, y/n! 🤞

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user did anyone see if she was able to get out of the car by herself?

↪ user no, i think she had to be extracted by the medical crew 😬

user i hope she's okay...

Charles' phone is halfway out of his pocket when it starts ringing. Glancing at the screen, he swipes to accept the call when he sees that it's from your mother. He had called her a few minutes ago, when the sight of your crash had first appeared on the screens in the Ferrari paddock, but she hadn’t picked up. Her voice filters through the speakers of his phone, worry tinging her tone. 

“Do you have news yet?” she asks.

“Don’t know,” Charles replies, “I’m on my way to see her now. It… might be good to book a flight — and soon.” He doesn’t want to alarm your mom but it seems inevitable and he knows that you would want her next to you. 

“Okay,” she breathes shakily, “and Charles?”

“Yeah?”

“She better be okay when I get there.”

Charles winces. Of all the people in the world, he knows all too well why you can never make any promises, especially in Formula 1. 

“I’ll do my best,” he says and ends the call.

There’s a marshal waiting for him in the tiny waiting area in the medical center. He’s pacing nervously and immediately strides towards Charles as soon as he sees him. 

“Mr. Leclerc,” he begins, “the doctors wanted to see you before they take any further action. You have medical power of attorney for Ms. L/N in case of emergency, correct?” 

Charles nods numbly. It had been a precaution at the time because you had insisted that out of everyone in the paddock, you trusted him the most. He had accepted it without thinking twice but now the weight of the responsibility settles heavily over his shoulders. He follows the marshal past empty treatment rooms until they reach one with its door thrown open. 

Charles feels his lunch crawling back up his throat as he stares at your figure. You’re laid out on a stretcher and you’d almost look peaceful if not for the numerous medical apparatuses connected to you and the thin trickle of dried blood on your temple. He somehow finds his voice again.

“What happened?” he asks, almost afraid to hear the answer.

A paramedic steps forward. “Ms. L/N took quite a knock in her crash, I’m afraid,” she explains gently. “Something came loose in the cockpit and hit her head. We’re not sure if there’s any further internal injuries, but our professional opinion is that she should be moved as soon as possible to a hospital for further testing.”

Charles swallows around a lump in his throat. “Is there any particular risk with transporting her in this state?” 

The paramedic shakes her head. “No more than the usual, which is relatively low compared to the risk that we run by keeping her here without knowing if there’s anything else wrong.” 

Charles follows your ambulance all the way into the hospital in a haze. He barely registers the press grouped outside the entrance, pushing through them, always keeping you in his sights. He waits outside of the examination room they bring you into and follows as they wheel you around, receiving god knows how many tests. 

After a while members of your team start showing up, although they keep a respectful distance from Charles. He’s glad. He knows, rationally, that you were just unlucky, but the irrational and protective side of him is screaming at him to place the blame at someone’s feet. He knows you wouldn’t appreciate him blowing up at your team, though, so he doesn’t say anything to them and keeps vigil by your side as the doctors poke and prod.

Eventually you’re carefully placed in a hospital bed and Charles is pulled aside by what seems to be the main doctor assigned to you.

“Unfortunately, it seems as if we will have to operate on Ms. L/N,” he says gently. “Someone else will go over the details with you, but long story short she’s bleeding internally and it’s imperative that we get to it as soon as possible. Of course, any operation of this size could potentially be dangerous, but I strongly recommend taking action sooner rather than later.”

Charles shakes his head, the words not yet registering in his scattered mind. “Is she going to be okay?” he mumbles, not meeting the doctor’s eyes.

He can feel the doctor’s pitying gaze on him and Charles doesn’t have it in him to tell him that he’s been here before — not this specific hospital, no, but he’s been on this side of the conversation that they’re having already, and it tears his heart up just as much as the first time. The only difference this time is that he’s the one who has to make the choice, not anyone else.

“We can’t make any guarantees,” the doctor cautions, “but it would significantly raise her chances of survival if we act now.”

Charles winces at the doctor’s words. Survival. Drive to survive, surviving to drive, the irony of the situation isn’t lost on him. He uncurls his fingers gingerly from where he had been unconsciously gripping his pants. 

He wants to avoid the decisions he knows he will have to make in the next twenty-four hours. He wants to pretend that nothing happened, that you’re still on the track, passing everyone in your way. He wants to go back to this morning, when he had kissed you goodbye before jogging off to get ready for the race. He wishes he had taken time to do more than peck you and throw a “love you!” over his shoulder. Charles wants to hide from the cold, stark reality he’s faced with. Your life lies in his hands and Charles is so, so tired of bleak hospital hallways.

He wants to scream at the heavens. He’s suffered and given so much already. Is one shred of happiness too much to ask? Charles had known the risks going in when he started dating you — one Formula 1 driver was usually more than enough jeopardy in a relationship, let alone two — but he’d never really thought that the day would arrive where he would have to make decisions about you, without you. 

Charles stares at your face through the window to your room, tracing the curves and slopes with his eyes. It’s the face he wakes up next to almost every day and he curses himself for not cherishing the time he’s already had with you more. His brain is moving a mile a minute, running through all the possible outcomes. At the end of the day, though, he’s only got one choice.

Charles Leclerc has always been selfish and he’ll be damned if he lets another person he loves slip through his fingers.

“Where do I sign?”

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

masterlist | taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora

[bruciemilf]

I think a " No Robins" AU would be really cool, because while yes, there's no Batman without Robin, can you IMAGINE the cuteness?

By " no robin" I don't mean the boys (Dick and Jason, but later everyone else) stay home, completely unaware of their Goth rat father fighting crime. They absolutely know he's batman and they ABSOLUTELY want kicks in.

But Bruce won't just let his children dive head first in Gotham’s crime pool. So he does what he does best; Pretend.

" B! Are we there yet?"

" Almost. Finish your chocolate milk so Jason can finish his."

" He's always copying me!"

" No I'm not!"

" nO iM nOt, "

Jason kicking his little legs in the child seat? Adorable. "B!"

Bruce is simply blocking this out. He's been driving in circles for two hours and when they finally fall asleep, he takes care of business, gets the robbers tied up, and by the time the boys wake up, he's like,

" You caught them. Good job."

The GCPD has to be useful SOMEHOW, so Gordon and Martinez take them to help look for "evidence." Yes, the evidence happens to be at the park

Even the Rogues are on board? Selina doesn't mind playing hurt when Dick hits her with a "batarang" from the local toy store. She decides to take it over the top and play dead, going limp,

" You killed her!" Jason screeches, because they LIKE Selina,

Bruce, completely calm as Tim pokes a shaking Selina with a stick, " Robin. What have you done."

Naturally, Dick wails, but luckily, she miraculously "comes back to life" and tells them cats really do have 9 lives. " You owe me so many diamonds, baby"

Bruce shrugs, patting Dick on the back, " You owe me therapy money,"

" Tch. Rich prick."

Harley and Ivy "fight" the birds a lot, but it's just Harley complimenting and hyping up Dick's gymnastics while Ivy swings them around with vines like carnival rides,

When Harley's "arrested", she pulls Bruce aside and is like, " Hey, maybe look into ADHD and autism, pretty sure they all have it, "

" Impossible? That's genetic. I have neither."

" ...1) They're adopted. 2) I have some news for you."

Harvey WILL kill Bruce on sight if he ever tells ANYONE he helped Jason and Tim tie him up with jumping cords. It's already bad enough that video of him slipping on bubblegum bombs (deactivated) is viral

" Okay, now three loops and around, -- Jason, that's a cat bridge."

" I'm NOT Jason Mr. Dent!"

" Right, ROBIN, -- can you at least gag this motherf-- this jerk? Jesus, Oswald, what'd you eat, death?"

Oz, tied back to back with Harvey, with marker all over his face, " Your MOTHER. I'M tired, KID, When's your old man coming back?"

" Dad says that if you miss bed time, you explode. Are you gonna explode, Mr. Penguin?"

"... I'm concerned that you're excited about it."

[disappointmentthemusical]

time travel fix it au where 6th year draco, rather than fixing the vanishing cabinet to bring death eaters, turns it into a time portal to warn his 11yo self not to trust his father

exiting the cabinet's pair in borgin & burkes in 1991 and apparating into the manor, the wards recognizing him. appearing before his younger self tired, gaunt and traumatized.

his younger self is afraid of this man who looks to be on the brink of madness, whose hair is limp and unkempt, whose eyes rove, unable to focus on one point. this man who reminds him so much of his aunt bella, but looks so much like his mother. like himself.

17-year-old draco is frantic and desperate. shaking his younger self in bouts of anger and fear. "you must listen," he repeats. don't trust father. forget everything he's taught you. there's no honor in the malfoy name. blood purity will destroy you. don't trust him. listen to me. please. please listen to me.

the moment you can, you need to leave the manor. it's not safe here. you can't trust anyone, not in slytherin, not in the sacred 28. they'll turn you in. find somewhere safe, away from here. please listen.

"what about mother" his younger self asks. he's afraid. afraid of the version of himself who looks, acts like this. afraid of the things that are being asked of him. afraid to lose himself.

older draco breaks down in a sob. its the cry of a broken man, one who's lost everything. his fingers dig painfully into 11-year-old draco's shoulders.

"she let me become this," he says. "she told me she loves me, but she let me become this."

he cries and cries and cries.

young draco agrees to change his fate, if only to stop the loud sobs that are bound to attract attention.

it's like a switch flips, and older draco stops crying. he looks at his younger self, and suddenly his face is full of life. it's like he's glowing.

"i can feel it," he says in an awed whisper. "can't you? you've done it already."

and then he disappears.

[urfavlarry]

omg I have an awful idea! can I request tyler and aiden (separate) x reader hcs where the reader dies their death instead of them?

Tyler & Aiden x reader (swapped AU)

warnings: swearing, bad grammar

genre: angst

Tyler Hernández

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Omg poor baby would fr freak out sm

He would try to pull you back into the cat but your hand would just slip from his grasp

His face goes pale when he sees you get impaled by the tree and screams your name

He yells and cusses and Ashlyn to go back

The poor boy starts hyperventilating he’s sobbing and just hoping you will be okay when they get to the normal world

Everyone looks at him with a sympathetic look and he just looks away from everyone

He has tears going down his face but his face was more pissed then sad (probably at Ashlyn)

Everyone shoots awake and quickly look your direction. The scene was not pleasant to look at, your pupils were big, your whole body was shaking as if you were having a seizure and you weren’t responding to anyone. “Mom!!” Taylor yells as Tyler rolls you on your side and rubs your back; “Shit.. Y/N, you’re okay.. we’re here..” He whispers when suddenly he gets pushed away by Ashlyns dad who lifts you up, running from the old school bus and runs to his car.

Everyone goes to the hospital with you, along with Tylers parents and Ashlyns too. Some stayed behind, knowing they would just be in the way but made sure to tell them they wanted updates on you.

The moment you could have visitors Tyler freezed. His thoughts clouded up in his mind, the regret becoming worse and worse by the second. He went in after everyone left, wanting to speak to you privately and didn’t want anyone to bother you. He saw your weak figure sitting on the hospital bed, looking into quite literally nothing, clearly you were caught up in your thoughts as well, but you soon snapped out of it as Tyler closed the door behind him. You look at him and get out of bed, running over to him and pull him into a bone crushing hug; “Hey, hey hermosa, be careful.” He says and lifts you up bridal style and lays you back into the bed, careful not to mess with wires and IVs that were hooked up to you. He lets you hold onto him, rubbing your back and kissing your forehead, just being there for you. You stay like that for a few minutes, you were thinking about what you should even say to him. Both of you were traumatized, you were impaled by a tree and he tried to save you but failed.

“Are you.. okay?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you look up at his face. His eyes were red snd he looked like he would pass out from exhaustion any minute. “I should be the one asking you that.” He says and you smile weakly; “As okay I can be after getting impaled by a tree.” You joke and he chuckles, ruffling up your hair; “Hey, don’t joke about that.” He says and kisses your cheek, laying down next to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. He lays his head between your thighs and you play with his hair, too tired to care about anything that was happening. Your mind starts to wander and you look down at him; “Hey, Ty?” He hums, waiting for you to continue and shifts slightly; “Do you.. do you think you’ll ever find me.. You know.. bavk there in that place? It seemed like you guys drove pretty far.” You say and quickly shut up when he sits up and had a “are you serious?” look on his face. “Y/N, don’t you dare think like that, we will find you and help you. You got that?” He says and cups your cheek bringing your soft lips to his.

You pull away and he looks at you with a love struck gaze; “I couldn’t bear the thought of loosing you, in this universe, or in the thousand other ones.” You raise a brow and give him a mischievous smile; “How do you know we’re together in every universe?” He chuckles and leans in towards your ear; “Because were made for each other, like the moon and the sun.”

Aiden Clark

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｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆⋆ ｡

He would hear Ashlyn screaming your name, everyone already under something while the ceiling was about to collapse

Aiden wanted to run to get you but Ben stopped him, knowing that wouldn’t end well if he also went under the collapsing ceiling

His whole “happy” aura changed and he starts sobbing, Ben having to keep him in place so he doesn’t die

Would probably be shaking sm

Praying you would be okay

Instantly looks away as he sees your body in the rubble, bloody and your head having a big gash in it

He runs over to you and brings you under a table, hugging you close and mumbling incoherent things into your ear

He wouldn’t know how to comfort you in words

He would just freeze and the boy that was usually yapping your ear of would be quiet

The moment you wake up your whole body starts shaking and your pupils get ten times their size. You wheeze, cough and try go catch your breath, gripping your chest and your pupils go back to normal. You looked shaken up and so did everyone else, the adults ‘yelling’ at each other whether they should take you to the hospital or not. “I.. I’m.. m’fine..” You say between coughs, your voice raspy and barely above a whisper.

“I don’t.. need.. to go..” You have another coughing fit and your eyes get a bit teary from all the coughing. You sit up and look up at the adults pushing them away; “I don’t need the hospital..” You being your knees to your chest and stay quiet, an awkward silence engulfing the room. “Y/N..” You hear your name being called and you look up to see Aiden crouching in front of you, his usual smile no where to be seen. You smile weakly at him; “Hey, you okay?” You ask and he frowns slightly pulling you into an embrace. You pat his back and breathe in his scent, your shoulder relaxing.

You felt safe and your heart beat started to calm down, along with your breath getting more steady. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you..” He says, his voice shaky and genuinely concerned for you. You smile weaky and pinch his cheek; “Come on, I’m here right? That’s what matters.” He smiles softly at you and you kiss his cheek; “There’s the smile I love so much.” He chuckles and you go back to listening to the rest of the group, parents suggesting you get some well deserved rest. The group all decide to sleep together, everyone someone cuddles up together. But the only person you had on mind was Aiden, who was holding you close to his chest and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. You smile, finally getting a good nights rest.

[sea-lanterns]

LET'S GET MARRIED!

synopsis: (childhood AU!) various genshin women proposing to you as children

featuring: miko, hu tao, dehya, ningguang

rating: sfw (anyone can interact)

warnings: gn! child reader, genshin women as children, fluff, puppy love, love at first sight, mentions of death (hu tao), funerals (hu tao), bullying (dehya), violence (dehya), poverty, may be ooc since they are children, not proofread.

art credits: whisper me a love song

MIKO

As a young kitsune, Miko was unable to transform into her human form due to a lack of strength and natural willpower. So, it was common for the yokai to be seen wandering around the shrine as a small fox, eating little snacks given to her by the shrine maidens, and terrorizing tiny children like the menace she was.

You’ve heard stories of a pink fox roaming the Narukami Shrine, but you didn’t think much of it when you sat down at a nearby bench to enjoy your lunch. Pulling out a small packet of your favorite chips, you tore it open before hearing a slight, rustling sound coming from within the bushes.

Rustle rustle rustle. 

You looked up to see one of the bushes in front of you moving, the branches shaking wildly before something pink and fluffy tumbled out from below.

A pink, fluffy, fox.

Miko had stumbled out of the plant with her fur all messy and tousled with leaves. A small yip leaving her mouth, as she shook like a wet dog and growled. Oh no, you’ve heard of this fox before. This was the terror of the Narukami Shrine, the infamous child attacker of Inazuma, the one, the only:

Yae Miko.

She sneezed as leaves blew out of her fur, before twitching her nose at the smell of your food. Once she caught a whiff of what you had in your lap, her eyes narrowed and she started glaring at you. Damn, even as a child, Miko still had that intimidating glare that could put an archon in their place, intimidating you with just a scowl before strutting up to you with confidence.

“…Hello?” You timidly say, looking down at the fox with worry. “You’re…you’re the fox that attacks kids, right? Please don’t hurt me, I’m just trying to eat my lunch.”

She narrowed her eyes at you. Even though she couldn’t speak, it felt like she was degrading you. 

“…Uhm. Do you want some? I can give you some if you like.”

Her tummy grumbled at an embarrassing time, causing her to only flatten her ears.

“…Okay.” You timidly reached into your bag and pulled out a small chip. Hesitantly, you held it out to her and waited for her to crawl up to you. “I hope it’s not that salty. I know kitsune taste buds can be pretty sensitive, so it’s okay if you don’t like it—”

She lunged forward to sniff the chip before biting onto it and gnawing like a dog. Cronch cronch cronch. She had crumbs spill all over the floor, but she seemed pretty satisfied overall, looking up at you for more. “Oh! Do you want some more?” She nodded, her tail starting to wag. “I can give you more, then!”

You ended up sharing half your lunch with the kitsune. Throwing her whatever you found in your lunchbox, and watching her devour it on the floor of the shrine. After a while, she seemed to have taken a liking to you and jumped on the bench beside you to lie down, letting out a content, purring noise. After that little interaction, you started coming to the shrine more often to feed and hang out with the little fox. Weeks passing by of this little friendship, you didn’t think your routine would change until one, fateful, day.

As you climbed up the steps leading to your favorite spot, you saw not the fox you’ve grown so accustomed to, but a small, pink haired girl around your age. She was waiting patiently on the bench you always sat at, before her ear twitched, indicating that she noticed you. 

Turning around, she had those same lilac eyes as your little foxy friend, as  they glimmered in a way that felt so familiar to you the more you stared.

“Finally, you came!” The girl said exasperatedly, folding her arms and pouting at you. “I was waiting all day! You keep a girl hungry, you know.” 

“I— sorry?” You looked so confused when she ran up to you and grabbed your lunch. “Hey—!”

“So, what did you bring this time? Fried tofu for Friday? I hope so…”

“Hey! Those are for my fox friend!” You exclaimed, snatching your lunchbox back. “I don’t even know you!”

“Are you dumb? I am your fox friend!” The girl yelled back, tugging the lunchbox back. “It’s me, Yae Miko!”

“Miko?!” Your eyes widened and you took a step back. No way, how could this bratty and sassy child be Yae Miko? “No way…”

“Yes way! I was able to transform into my human form the other night. I’m strong enough now!” She grinned proudly and showed off her canine teeth. Although a bit bratty and too overconfident, you could tell it was actually her due to her unique markings and fluffy, pink, ears. “Now, hand over the tofu! I’ve been waiting all week for this!”

You pouted and handed her the takeout box with tofu inside. “…Fine.”

She grinned and looked at you smugly before taking the carton out of your hands. “Thank you…!” She began eating with the elegance of a toddler before pausing her chewing mid way. “By the way, since I can talk now, I’ve been wanting to ask you something.” 

“Huh?” You gasped when she suddenly jumped on top of you and looked at you with those curious eyes. 

“I’ve decided I want to marry you when we get older.”

“What?!”

She smiled at you before hugging you close. Wanting to feel you in a way that had your little heart beating. “You heard me, I want to marry you! That way, you’ll feed me yummy food forever!” She exclaimed, staring at you in a way you couldn’t refuse. “Please?”

“I— o-okay…” your tiny kid's heart didn’t have the guts to refuse, so the moment you said yes, Miko smiled and nuzzled you close. “Hurray! Now you can feed me fried tofu for the rest of our lives!”

If only you knew, she would marry you for reasons other than fried tofu…

HU TAO

Funerals were typically held on rainy days like in the movies, so why was yours held on such a bright and sunny day?

You stared at the coffin in front of you with regret, regret for not being with your grandmother more, as she passed away in her sleep due to old age. The funeral was directed by Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, which meant you had an untimely encounter with the director’s eccentric granddaughter.

She was so…strangely upbeat. Of course, she paid her respects to the dead, mourning in a way to convey her sadness. But she was still quite the spunky one and you couldn’t help but get irritated at how nonchalant she was. 

There she was, prancing around the funeral giving jolly orders like it was nothing. You knew it was a part of her job, but did she really have to be so happy about it? You were slightly annoyed and went to sit by the pond to take a breather, pulling at the itchy black clothes your parents made you wear, before feeling the tears well up in your eyes. 

“Grandma…” your tiny voice trembled, sniffing and wiping away your tears, trying your best not to cry in front of all your family members.

“Yoo-hoo? Does someone need a tissue?” You heard a voice call, gentle footsteps walking up from behind and dangling a napkin in front of your face. “Better wipe up that runny nose, your face is too cute to be all snotty!”

“Hu Tao…” you frowned, taking her offered napkin and looking away. “Please go away, I’m not in the mood to play right now…”

Her face softened at the sight of you trying to hide your tears. Shamelessly trying to wipe your runny nose while hiding the fact that you were crying. “Okay…I guess I’ll go…”

Before she could leave however, your hand instinctively reached out to grab her sleeve, tugging her back. “No wait, I…” you grimaced and stared down at the floor. “I’m sorry, please stay…” Even though you were still annoyed, you still wanted the comfort of another person. Even if that person was Hu Tao. 

“Oh? Ah, okay…” Hu Tao immediately sat down beside you and looked at you with worry. “…Your eyes are really puffy, you know.”

“I know.” You mumble tiredly, wiping your nose with your sleeve and staring at the water. “I haven’t cried like this in a while.”

“Understandable. I mean, your grandma pa—” she stopped herself from saying more before slowly hugging her knees. “Ah…sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You mutter, a deafening silence overcoming you two. “You’re just trying to help.”

Another awkward silence. Usually Hu Tao was more talkative when it came to the two of you, but right now she was quiet as she sat down beside you and picked at the grass. While the adults in the background talked amongst themselves, Hu Tao finally snapped out of it and reached a hand out for you to take.

“…Hug?” She asked softly, opening her arms like a baby bear cub. 

“…Hug.” You say quietly, moving over to hug her while trying your best not to sob all over her shoulder. “There there. No need to hold back.” Hu Tao says reassuringly, squeezing you tightly. “You can snot over my shirt if you want. I have others.”

“No, ew.” You chuckle through your sobs. “That’s disgusting.”

“Well, I don’t mind if it makes you feel better…” she murmurs against your ear. “I don’t like seeing you so upset.” 

“I don’t normally get so upset, sorry…”

“No, it’s okay. I just want to cheer you up.” 

She patted your back comfortingly, before placing her hat on top of your head. “You know, I wish we could hang out more often. You seem like a pretty cool kid.” She smiles brightly at you before pulling away from the hug. “I wanna be with you more! Not just at the funeral parlor.”

“Sniff, really?” You blinked your tears away and looked up at her. 

“Really.” She says with a smile, cupping your hands. “…Actually, I have an idea!”

She plucked a dandelion sprout from the ground and got down on one knee, holding out the flower to your face. “Let’s get married when we’re older! That way, I can cheer you up whenever we’re together!”

Your face flushed at the sudden proposal and you immediately panicked. “Ah, wait! Aren’t marriages a serious thing? Don’t you have to be in love for that to happen?”

“Pfft! Who cares? Marriages make people happy, so I wanna make you happy too…”

She slipped the dandelion between your ear and smiled, giving you a smile you would soon see walking down the altar…

DEHYA

You ran down the streets of your hometown, trying to avoid all the bullies chasing your tail and diving down random alleyways to lose them as quickly as possible. Unfortunately for you however, you found yourself at a dead end with nowhere else to go, a bunch of big kids getting ready to make you their next target, as they took the liberty of picking up rocks to throw at you.

“Ah, come on! Can’t you leave me alone just this once?” You looked aggravated and fearful for your life, backing up against the hardened brick wall that led to your demise. “Don’t you get tired of picking on me all the time? Find something else to do!”

Your desperate pleas fell on deaf ears as they got ready to launch their rocks. You sighed and crouched down on the ground, trying to cover your head for the inevitable pain you were going to feel.

“Okay, just please make it quick…”

You squeezed your eyes shut and resisted the urge to cry, bracing yourself for the impact that…strangely never came? 

Instead, you heard the loud yells of a rugged and tomboyish girl, the sounds of kids screaming in fear, before footsteps sprinted away from you. The sounds slowly grew quieter and quieter, leaving you to open your eyes and see a pretty, short-haired girl standing in front of you.

“They’re gone now, I chased them away for you.” Was all she said before extending her hand out. “Are you okay? Did they hit you or anything?”

Your cheeks flushed hot at the sight of her trying to help you, as the girl was very pretty and the way she was staring at you with those piercing blue eyes made your heart leap with relief. What was this feeling? Could it be? Did you finally develop one of those things called crushes? 

You realized she was still staring at you and shook your head no.

“Ah, no…they didn’t.” You slowly took her hand and stood up. “I’m okay, thanks.”

“You sure? Your knee looks pretty bad.”

You looked down to see what she was pointing at and sure enough, you had somehow scraped your knee during the chase. “Oh, I guess I didn’t notice…” you brushed off some sand that had gotten on it and winced. “Don’t worry, it’s just a scrape. It’ll heal.”

“Not if it gets infected.” She huffs, grabbing your hand with her own. Wow, even for a kid as young as you, she sure was strong. “Come on, I’ll take you back to my tent. My name’s Dehya by the way.” 

She tugs you down to follow her to her camp and makes you sit down, grabbing all the medical supplies her arms could carry before setting them down in front of you.

“Uhm, do you know how to use these? Only grownups should use alcohol.” You scrunched up your nose at the sight, causing Dehya to laugh beautifully. 

“Pfft, you’re thinking of the wrong kind of alcohol,” she grins, applying some on a piece of gauze. “That’s drinking alcohol, it’s the kind that makes grownups all dizzy and say funny things. This is rubbing alcohol.”

She gently applies the gauze to your scrape and watches you hiss in pain. The moment she sees tears well up in your eyes though, she immediately grabs your hand.

“Ah—! I’m sorry, but this has to be done! My dad told me you have to disinfect wounds so you don’t get germs on it!” She squeezed your hand in comfort, helping you push through the pain before setting the gauze down to begin bandaging you. “I know it hurts, but adults go through scary injuries all the time and have to go through the same thing. You can be brave for me, right?”

She looks up at you with those piercing blue eyes and you couldn’t bring yourself to say no.

“Hah! That’s the spirit!” She smiles and finishes wrapping up your knee. “There, all done! Can you walk?”

You shakily got up on wobbly knees before almost falling backwards, if not for Dehya instinctively catching you. “…Huh. Seems like you need a bit more recovery.”

She helps you sit back down before frowning after a few moments. “Actually, I have to ask, how long have you been bullied by those bigger kids?”

“Ah, for a little while…” you mumble in response, hiding your face in shame. “It’s okay, they’ll get bored of me eventually.”

“Eventually?” Dehya’s face furrowed with anger. “No! I’m not gonna let them keep bullying you! You deserve better!” She huffs and grabs your hand, before dramatically getting down on one knee. “I’m going to protect you till the end of time. My dad said that you should always protect those who can’t protect themselves, so I’m doing that for you!”

“But—”

She looked at you with such fiery determination and you shut up immediately.

“No buts. I’ve decided I’m going to stick with you for as long as I can.” She smiled and held your hands, leaning in close with a grin. “Perhaps we’ll even get married…”

Your eyes widened at the idea. Married to Dehya? I mean, it’s not like you were opposed to it…

“Married? Oh, uh, alright….” Dehya smiled and patted your head.

“Good. I’ll make sure you’re safe as long as you’re with me.”

She bows down to you like a knight would before taking your hand and kissing it. 

“That’s what a good wife does after all…”

NINGGUANG

Due to living in poverty, little tiny Ningguang had to make a living by selling seashells on the beach. She didn’t have time to play with the other kids, or go eat lunch with them by the pier, so she ended up not having a lot of friends to talk to, due to her poor upbringing and determination for money.

She would’ve ended up alone if not for you, a humble, yet curious child who took interest in what Ningguang wanted to sell. They were mostly handmade wares and shells she found lying on the beach, so there wasn’t really anything of high value. Despite that however, you were intrigued, and moved a little closer to take a look at what Ningguang had to offer.

She noticed you, standing up abruptly to present whatever she thought would interest you. “You seem rather enveloped by my jewelry,” Ningguang says, lifting up one of the trays of rings. “They’re all handcrafted and personally made by me. The pearls you see are freshly harvested from oysters found by the Liyue docks.”

She looked proud of her little business spiel and gently took your hand into hers. “Would you like to try one? I can help you find your ring size.”

Despite her living in rags and dirt, you couldn’t help but find her beautiful as she looked up at you with gemstone-brimmed eyes. Blinking up at you in a beautiful shade of scarlet, as her warm smile brought you newfound feelings you’ve never felt before. What were those feelings you may ask? Perhaps something akin to fascination, or perhaps…a small crush? 

Nevertheless, you knew this girl was beautiful, and wanted to get to know her better. After browsing around her selection of wares for you to purchase from, your eyes landed on a particular set of jewelry. “Are these a set? They both match…” you ask with curiosity, picking up one of the rings.

“Yes, I made those two in mind for a couple who happened to be walking by.” She picks up the second one in the pair and holds it out to you. “They are matching rings and can symbolize anything. Romance, friendship, familial bond…”

She smiles at you and gently slips one of the pairs onto your finger. “Here, it seems to fit onto you perfectly. Do you like it?” 

You did. It was absolutely beautiful and you admired the glittering pearl like it was the second prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. (The first one being Ningguang)

“It’s beautiful. But…” your eyes moved down to the matching pair in the set. “I don’t have anyone to match with…”

Ningguang raised a brow at this. Well, you could always buy another ring, so it’s not like this was a big deal.

“Oh? That’s a shame. Then perhaps you could get something else? Or, even just take one of the pairs and leave the other.” She thought quite logically about the situation and didn’t seem bothered by your dilemma. After giving her suggestion, she was a bit confused as to why you looked so upset. “Uh…is something the matter?”

“We can’t just separate the pair!” You exclaim, your childishness shining through. “They’d get lonely knowing the other pair is somewhere else…”

“But they’re just…rings?” Ningguang looked confused as to what you were throwing a fuss about. “Rings don’t have feelings!”

“You don’t know that!” You shout back, holding one of the rings close to your chest. “It needs to know it matches with someone. Then it’ll fulfill its purpose in life…”

Poor Ningguang looked so confused at the whole ordeal before sighing in slight disbelief. Perhaps she was a bit too mature for her age to understand, but it seemed that splitting the rings apart was troubling you to a great degree. 

“Alright, I have an idea…” Ningguang murmurs, taking the second half of the pair and slipping it onto her finger. “You can keep that one, and I will keep this one. That way we will match.” 

Your eyes lit up at this solution. “So we can be…a bonded pair?” You ask quietly, looking at her with intrigue.

Dammit. Little Ningguang’s face blushed and she couldn’t help but grow flustered. “Yes, we can be a bonded pair…” she grumbles, ignoring the way you were starting to look cute. 

“Hurray!” You smile gleefully, slipping the ring on and handing you some mora. “Now we can pretend to be married! Like real couples!” 

She felt the blood rush to her face as she looked down at the matching ring in her hand, a spur of newfound feelings bubbling in her chest, as Ningguang had never felt this way before. 

From that day forward, Ningguang vowed to become the richest woman in Liyue. All for the sole purpose of potentially buying you a real ring to marry…

[waldau]

hii i would like to request a fake dating scoups x reader au where the reader falls first but coups falls harder <3 thank u!

here you go anon, hope you like this :)

reset — choi seungcheol | 2,008 words | fluff, hurt/comfort

cheol brainrot go brrrr

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

technically speaking, the party’s going fine.

despite how much you want to hate it, it’s going the way parties do. there’s music, there’s alcohol, there’s your own corner if you want to tune out the sound of everything else, and there’s seungcheol’s friends. he’s spent at least half an hour introducing you to everyone — you’ve met a lot of them before, but there’s still some new ones. there’s always new ones.

and even though they’ve been nothing but polite to you, engaging you in conversation and making an effort to learn more about you, you can’t shake off the feeling that this isn’t really where you’re supposed to be.

you don’t know who you were kidding when you agreed to be his fake date for the party. he’s already had a ton of people hanging onto him throughout the course of the night. you’re not sure why he even bothered asking you. he could have asked his manager to find someone that would actually match with him, and maybe create a big splash if it made it to the news.

instead, he’d asked you out.

it won’t make a difference in the news, anyway, he’d said, like he wasn’t aware of the way he shattered your heart with those words. like it was common knowledge that nobody could even imagine the two of you together. like it wasn’t worth anyone’s time or imagination, most of all his.

suddenly, you find the sounds in the room too loud to bear. it’s not the first party you’ve been to, but it’s the first one where you’ve felt truly alone. you’re glad you haven’t touched your drink yet.

no one’s really paying attention to you exclusively, and you’re okay with nodding along and throwing in an occasional response here and there. but then it’s not okay, anymore. you shouldn’t have to be here in the first place, on this stupid fake date you agreed to because of your little crush on seungcheol.

okay, maybe it’s not just a little crush. but the point is that you shouldn’t have to be here hurting your feelings in order to spend a little time with him.

you excuse yourself under the pretense of having to take a call and head towards the balcony. joshua, one of seungcheol’s closest friends, comes up to ask you if everything’s okay. you’ve been friends with him for long enough that he can tell when you're fine and when you're not, but you give him a look that hopefully conveys you want him to let this slide.

“seungcheol mentioned this isn’t really your thing, so let him know if you want to go home. i know he’ll be okay with that.”

you nod wordlessly, words of gratitude stuck in your throat. what seungcheol tells you is true — joshua is just too damn perceptive.

you feel like you can finally take a better breath when the door shuts behind you, separating you from everyone else. the cold air makes you feel better, even if it’s beginning to seep into your skin because of the outfit you’ve worn.

it doesn’t matter, though. you need a bit of a reset.

somehow, it hardly takes four minutes before you feel someone behind you. and it’s not just anyone.

“do you have a death wish or something?”

you choose not to grace him with an answer.

“hey,” seungcheol prompts when you don’t reply. “what’s up?”

“shouldn’t i be asking you that?”

seungcheol steps to your side and looks at you. even though you’re gazing down at the empty road sparsely dotted with streetlights, you can feel his gaze pierce you.

“do you want to go home?” he asks softly.

it hurts. he shouldn’t be this considerate to you and then not like you back. it can't just be one without the other.

“i don’t know, do you?”

he sighs. “okay. i don’t know what i’ve done wrong, but i can tell you’re not comfortable right now. are you done for tonight?”

you shake your head. “i don’t want you to leave because of me. it seemed like you were having fun back there.”

“and you weren’t,” he replies, reading between the lines.

“it doesn’t matter, okay? it’s not your fault i’m not having fun.”

“that’s not how this works,” seungcheol stresses, stepping forward to grip your arms and recoiling a bit. “you’re cold.”

you shrug. another thing that’s not gone well today.

seungcheol takes off his jacket and hands it to you without any hesitation, but you don’t take it. you can’t keep living in your little daydream, living on moments where you think he might love you just a bit more than he would a friend. one of you needs to break the cycle, and if it’s going to be you, you’re prepared.

“seriously, what is wrong with you?” he asks, soft but sharp. you finally look him in the eyes. he has that gaze — the one where it looks like he knows exactly what you’re thinking about. it scares you sometimes, the way he’s so accurate. he must have picked up something from joshua over the years.

“nothing’s wrong with me, cheol,” you say, slightly bitter. “just because i don’t want your jacket doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world.”

"you're right, i'm sorry," he says, taking a step closer to you. "i shouldn't have said it like that. but...it's not just about the jacket. at first i thought i caught you on an off day, but you seemed fine till we got here. i don’t know what happened after that. are you hungry? did someone say something to you? do you need me to punch anyone?”

you give him an exasperated look. “you’d punch someone if i asked?”

“in a heartbeat. i thought you knew that by now.”

“and if i was wrong?”

“you’re never wrong when it comes to things like these. and i’d forgive you even if you were.”

"you're too trusting, you know that?"

"well," seungcheol says, lowering the jacket. but it's still in front of you, still on offer. "you're my best friend. i think you have some privilege."

you hate the earnestness in his voice as much as you love it. “i know. sorry.”

“don’t apologize, sweetheart. tell me what’s wrong, and tell me how i can fix it. i’ll do anything.”

“it’s…nothing you can do,” you say, turning away from him. it's most definitely not in his control, but it’s not your fault for loving him, either.

“how will you know if you don’t try?”

“you just know some things, cheol. trust me on that.”

“yeah? like i know you’re hiding something from me right now? something that’s eating my best friend up, and i don’t even know what to do to help?”

again. those two words. they tear you up from the inside just as much as they hold you together. you can’t help the sharp feeling in your throat which indicates tears might be on the way. you're just frustrated at the unfairness of it all. if only life was a little kinder.

seungcheol, ever perceptive, notices immediately. “sweetheart? it’s something i did, isn’t it? something i said?”

you shake your head, not wanting tears to well up.

“don’t lie to me,” he says, draping the jacket over your shoulders and pulling you into his embrace. you push him away, even though you whole body wants nothing more than to be with him.

“please tell me?”

you take in a breath, the cold night air stinging your nose. “you said something.”

“what was it?”

“you said it wouldn’t make a…difference, if i was your date,” you say, focusing so much on not crying that your voice is barely audible to your own ears. “you said it like no one would care if we were together. like it wouldn’t affect you in any way. like i’m just…your best friend. and no one can see me as anything more.”

seungcheol sucks in a sharp breath. “can i hold you? please?”

you almost refuse, but decide otherwise. you’ve spilled out your mind to him, anyway. the least you deserve is a hug from him.

“i’m so fucking sorry,” he breathes into your hair, his arms looped around your waist and holding you close to him. “i didn’t— i’d never say something like that. that’s not what i meant when i said it.”

“then what did you,” mean, you mean to ask, but your breath gets swept away when he presses a kiss to your head.

“it’s just…everyone knows how close we are,” he says, hand gently running up and down your back. “i thought people wouldn’t bat an eye if they assumed we were dating, you know. i know people who already think we are. or…that we should.”

you look up at him at that. he looks serious about what he’s saying, but also shy, like he doesn’t want you looking at him when he’s speaking.

“people?”

“some of my close friends.”

that's news to you. “so you don’t mind…people thinking we’re a thing? or thinking we should be?”

“of course not,” he says, holding you with one hand and tracing your cheekbone with the other. you fall for him just a bit more, right there. “anyone would be lucky to have you. i’d be the luckiest guy to have you.”

he just says things like that, and it makes you wonder if he really means them. so you decide to push him this time, and see where it goes. and blame it on your nerves and the drink you never had if things don’t go well. “would you?”

“want to have you?”

you nod, breath trapped in your throat.

“yeah,” he breathes out, leaning forward and tucking his chin in your shoulder.

you swear your world stops for just a second. you’re hardly even aware that he’s leaning on you now.

"yeah as in?"

“i’d like you to take you out for a real date. if you’ll let me.”

you pull away to look at seungcheol. he’s blushing, but he’s not looking away.

"if i'll let him, he says."

"well?" seungcheol lifts a hand to fix your hair.

“this isn’t a joke?”

he steps back and rubs his face, probably in an attempt to brace himself for whatever he wants to say. it doesn’t work. you like him like this, you think. with his hair messy and his eyes shy.

“of course not. i’d never joke about something like this. especially when it’s you.”

you should be the one who's shy and blushing, and yet there's nowhere else you'd rather look. “what made you…”

seungcheol takes your hands. they're a warm contrast to your cold ones. “i’ve been wrestling with it for a while, and i never told you because i didn’t want things between us to be weird. but i couldn’t keep faking it after i saw you tonight. you look so good, it’s been killing me.”

you shake him off to loop your arms around his neck and pull him down to you, feeling a bit braver. “so if i told you i wanted to leave right now…”

he swallows loud enough for you to hear. “we’d be out of here right now.”

you stand on your tiptoes to bring yourself to his height and place a little kiss on his nose.

he pouts. “that’s it? that’s all i get after confessing to you?”

“i don’t want our first kiss to be in front of an audience, cheol.”

seungcheol smiles. “fair. but i don’t know how much longer i can wait now.”

“you’re going to have to ask me out for real, you know.”

“but you haven’t told me you like me back yet,” seungcheol says. you can hear the whine in his voice and it makes you laugh a bit.

“you need to hear me say it?”

“of course i do! i've spent weeks thinking about tonight.”

“aren't you lucky, then?" you tease.

“the luckiest,” he says solemnly.

it's your turn to blush now.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi

[sharkorok]

heeseung w/ an inexperienced s/o

cw/genre: this is fluff!!! fluff!!, headcanon format, cursing, fboi au, campus au ig…(?), like one dirty joke or whatnot teeheehoohoo, informal writing, that should be it (I think)

requested: X

a/n: this grown man has me so delulu so take this 😋

•-•-•-•

-u are well known for being notoriously bad at expressing affection or being in relationships

-you can’t do casual relationships this man once said “hey baby” and you were like “so I think we should lowk end things cuz why u calling me bby…kinda weird dawg…”

-UR JUST SO AWKWARDDDD ITS EMBARRASSING (I’ll write ur character development soon dw)

-anyways so you go to a party and you see heeseung who is notorious for being the craziest charmer ever like he could see an acorn on the ground and seduce it

-he strikes up conversation with you to see what the fuss is all about, he saw a person once talk about how ur so hot w a cold heart but he immediately realized you’re just awkward skssksksks

-he realizes he literally fell in love with you the second he tried to flirt and you were just …? while laughing awkwardly

-so after a month of you flitting around his charming gestures, looking down shyly or avoiding eye contact when he tries to rizz u up, he gets the courage to just straight up ask, “do you like me?”

-and when you explain that u don’t rlly know and u don’t really get into relationships he’s like OKKK LETS TRY THEN!! because he’s so madly in lov w you cuz ur so cute to him

-ok so boom dating!

-he purposely pushes your buttons to see just how much you can squirm, watching you stammer when he has you pressed against a wall gives him a power trip he didn’t think anyone could be this adorable

-and also u as a person…he’s so in love (dreamily)

-no one understands your relationship like, “how does y/n survive heeseung they can’t even say the word baby without cringing”

-ur not innocent or anything ur just new to affection and stuff so it freaks u out a little!!

-he always asks about boundaries before hand or makes sure you’re comfortable when you two are hanging out. the first time you two were cuddling he would ask every now and then if you were alright

-“you just make me nervous, hee” “don’t be nervous baby, it’s just me.”

-you didn’t realize how nice it felt to be loved within your comfort zone, and how nice it was to have someone hold your hand when it was pushed a little

-he’s gonna tease u tho sorry “loser virgin s/o and popular fboi boyfriend what wattpad story are we coming from”

-defends you to death if anyone criticizes the way you two date, he’s happy with you and if anyone tries to say otherwise he’s all up for arguing with them in a parking lot (￣▽￣)

-he loves you so so much and he dgaf about how slow he has to take it!!

-he takes you on lots of different dates to see what you like and what you don’t like, slowly initiates PDA to see if you’re okay w it or what freaks you out, he’s okay w taking the lead

-got him proud when you explain yourself tho, it means he’s doing a good job as your boyfriend if you’re comfortable explaining your boundaries and understanding them!! (in the least patronizing way possible)

-one time you two were making out and you put your hands on his chest, looking up at him and shaking your head, “I don’t think I want to continue yet.”

-and like a good boyfriend he is he reassured you he dgaf and that you two can just cuddle on the couch for the rest of the night or he could sit five feet away from you and not speak!!! whatever you say he listens bae

-never pushes you for affection, it pisses him off when people say the relationship is one sided, he doesn’t get insecure about whether or not you love him dw

-you say “I love you” every now and again later in your relationship to reassure him just in case tho, which is always super special to him and makes him fly over the moon *bawls eyes out*

-I did not mean for this to be this long ok anyways he’s yours and he knows it and your his and he knows that too <3

[sprout-fics]

First Day of the Rest of Your Life

(TF141 & Reader Old Guard AU)

Call of Duty Masterlist

Rating: 16+ Wordcount: 4k Tags: Old Guard AU, Immortals AU, Newly Immortal Reader, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Open Ending, Rescue Missions, Shadow Company, Major Character Death (non permanent) Warnings: Forced Drugging, Character Death (and revival) A/N: A silly little idea that I won't be continuing, but others are free to build off of

They’re not known by anyone but themselves.

Things like them shouldn’t exist. It goes against all laws of nature, to rise from dirt and to return. Yet somehow, the men you come to meet defy death itself, unable to be killed, to die a death that lasts long and forever.

And…

You come to realize you’re just like them.

But first, you have to die.

A “Shadow”, you’re called. One of many, under the authority of Commander Phillip Graves and his company. It’s a reluctant job, one that you took with little other option to settle old debts and to escape from a life that haunts you even now. Even so, you share a camaraderie with the men and women around you, bonds forged under mortar fire and bullet wounds.

Graves himself takes you under his wing, reluctant as you are, makes a point to check on you after missions, to tease you when he can, needling you and trying to make you roll your eyes at him. He likes getting under your skin, cracking jokes so your mouth twitches up as you suppress a smile. It’s hard not to like him with his charisma, but you can’t even shake the little bit of guardedness that remains ever present when you’re around him. You’re not friends, but you certainly aren’t enemies either. Comrades, perhaps.

That changes when you die.

You’re supporting SAS forces in their hunt for a known AQ leader, in a remote village, when your squad is ambushed. The desert sun bores down harshly on you all, and you find yourself squinting upwards when the first shot echoes out.

Graves is not far behind you as bullets begin to rain down on your position, leaning into his comms and barking orders. His eyes are focused with trained intent, finger on the trigger of his weapon, and when you catch his eyes he shoots you a wild grin.

You spot something out of the corner of your eye as you return fire- a woman and a child, hidden behind a low wall as she tries to cover him from the firefight. Her eyes are different. Scared, full of tears, her shoulders tight as he holds back her cries.

You shout for cover, instantly on your feet moving and diving for the pair. You shield her as you aid them both to safety, only for one of your squad to shout for you a moment too late.

The bullet goes straight through your heart.

You fall forward into the arid earth, watching the woman and her son be quickly escorted to shelter. The pang of relief you feel is stifled by the agony that laces through your veins, wet and viscous and much too warm. As you gasp, dying and bleeding out, the last thing you see is Graves’ face hovering over yours, steely and grim as your life gushes out onto his hands.

“Breathe, darlin’, breathe.”

You can’t. With every pulse of your heart you feel the sickening ooze of red spill from the gap in your chest. You wheeze, try to speak, but it’s too late. You hear him call for you as you go under, and your last thought is that you wish just had more time.

There’s a flash of something then- brief and vague, like the shimmering outline on the horizon. Four figures standing tall, turning to gaze at you before it all goes dark.

You wake up in the infirmary an hour or so later. Staring up at the medical tent and trying to process the fact that you’re alive.

Remarkably, you feel…fine? 

A hand smooths over your chest, and you find no bullet hole at all. No gaping wound where your life force bled out of you. Perfectly healed. 

It doesn’t make any sense, and you try to reconcile the sudden, agonizing pain and darkness with your unscathed state. You died. There’s no way you should be alive right now, much less without a horrible, life altering injury.

Graves pushes aside the tent flap and paces to your bedside with long strides. You expect him to look relieved, to smile and offer a joke to cover his concern. Instead, he appears guarded, cautious, like he no longer trusts you.

You flinch.

Graves watches you with wary eyes, and when you ask him if perhaps you dreamt it he doesn’t show any indication of shock. Instead, he crowds closer, gets in your personal space, and asks you what you remember. You tell him. You died…and then…and then…

Nothing.

This doesn’t satisfy him, and you can tell by the harsh light in his eyes. He smiles anyways, but you feel something curl in your stomach at the fact that it feels so sinister. Graves pats your shoulder and tells you to rest up, offers a little murmur of relief that doesn’t reach your ears.

You’re too busy looking at his eyes.

On his way out of the infirmary, Graves whispers something to the medic, who pales and tries to protest. Yet then Graves goes icy cold, and you feel a shiver run up your spine. He vanishes after that, and after a moment the medic appears with a syringe. 

“This should help with the pain.” He offers with a wobbly smile. 

“But…I’m not in pain.” You offer, brow knotted in confusion, but before you can offer anything else he holds out your arm and presses the needle to the inside of your elbow with practiced ease.

“W-wait-”

You look at the medic in confusion as he pulls back, and somehow when he presses on your shoulder you go flat on the bed with sluggish limbs. 

“What-” You try, feeling something dark and liquid descend over your senses slowly. 

“I’m sorry.” He offers, face pinched. “Please don’t die.”

You grab at him then, recognizing the injection too late for what it is, a lethal dose. You try to raise your voice, try to beg, but the soldier above you hushes you, murmurs apologies even as the newly familiar grip of death settles over you. 

…And then, you wake up again

This time, however, you’re restrained. Your arms are above your head, shackled to the metal bars of the infirmary cot. There’s a dull ache that colors your senses, and when you try to raise your hand to rub at your head you find it immobile. Panic instantly rises within you, doubled by your prone position. 

As you panic and struggle Graves appears and hovers over your bedside

“Feel like talkin now, soldier?” He asks, gaze cold.

He had you killed, you realize. He sent the medic to drug you, to test this newfound ability of yours to come back after apparent death. Now, he has you trapped under his mercy, eyes dark as he scrutinizes your restrained form.

You try to tell him you don’t know, you don’t understand, but you know he doesn’t believe you. Even after your babbling protests and attempts to explain, he remains unmoved.

At last, he sighs in frustration and turns away to the medic once more.

“Put em’ under.”

Terror grips at you. You scream, thrash, a primal fear screeching through your veins as you’re approached by the grim faced medic.

Then, the medical tent shakes with the force of a nearby explosion. Graves spins, eyes wide. Instantly, the base alarm begins to roar, nearly deafening the instant chatter of his radio. Graves is moving, barking order, growling at the two shadows who stand nearby.

“Prep for transport. We’re takin’ em to the general.”

Shepherd.

They’re moving you. They’re going to give you to Shepherd because of…whatever this is. Your instincts scream danger, and it only renews your effort to escape, thrashing at your restraints and screaming with all your might.

The two shadows press down on your struggling limbs- a hand snaking up to cover your mouth. You plead with teary eyes, desperately afraid, whimpering as the medic pushes the needle down into your arm once more. The overly warm rush of morphine slinks through your veins, draws your eyelids heavy against your will.

It’s at that moment that you see them.

Four armed figures sweep into the tent, and as the two soldiers spin and reach for their weapons. They're taken out before they can even shout for aid, two  of the men instantly subduing the two guards, choking them into unconsciousness with heavy, muscular arms. A third points a weapon at the medic, growling as the man cowers.

A face hovers into view- Brown eyes a deeper color than his skin, warm gaze concerned even as he smiles. He’s handsome, a delirious part of your brain realizes as unconsciousness begins to descend over you.

“Nice to meet you, mate.” He tells you as you begin to fade. “Name’s Gaz. Don’t worry, we’ll be here when you wake up. We got it from here.”

You try to ask him what he means, but you’re gone before the words can pass your lips.

- - -

“I’m getting kind of tired of this.” You think as soon as you wake up for the third time in twelve or so hours, flat on your back and looking at the ceiling of a plane.

There’s a jacket covering you, and as you sit up your groan, feeling the remnants of morphine clear from the uncomfortable haze of your brain.

“Easy.” A gruff voice tells you, and your eyes dart up to take in the sight of a man sitting on a bench beside you, the airplane rattling around you both. “You’ve had a rough go of it, take it slow.”

“Who…?” You manage to ask, pressing a heel of your palm to the center of your eye to dispel the lingering headache, looking around to take in the other three men who sit in various stages of alertness. You take them in one by one, starting with the man beside you with the beard and the hat. He looks older than you suspect he is- the age showing in his eyes. 

Beside him sits a man in a mask, the hard plastic of it in the shape of a skull. He blinks at you slow like a cat, and with his arms crossed he seems to take up so much space on the tiny aircraft.

Across from him sits a younger man with a mohawk, blue eyed and bright. He smiles at you, gaze twinkling as you blink in confusion.

Your eyes land on a familiar face. “...Gaz.” You offer uncertainly, and he beams at you. 

“Right’o.” He tells you, and then nods to the man beside him. “And Soap-” The man in the mohawk gives a grin and a wave. “Ghost-” The man is the skull mask, arms crossed, regarding you coolly. “And Price.” The man who sits beside you, elbows on his knees, blue eyes staring keenly down at you. 

You reply with your name purely out of politeness, but are unable to stop the tensing of your limbs as you slowly and cautiously press away from the four men who have kidnapped you.

The questions pour out of you before you can stop them. Who are they? Where are you? Where’s Shadow Company? Where are they taking you? How did you get here?

…Do they know you died?

The men before you exchange some looks of concern, before at last it’s Price who moves and settles on his haunches before you with a reassuring smile. He sits just out of reach, trying to respect your personal space as much as he can in the tiny plane.

“You’re safe.” Is the first thing he tells you, voice firm but soft. “We’ll make sure your commander can’t find you, so don’t you worry about that.”

“The rest will have to wait.” He goes on, offering you a hand to stand and helping you to a seat beside Gaz. “We’ll wait until we’re at our safehouse to tell you the rest.”

You swallow nervously, hands bunched in the jacket draped over your lap. Your mind desperately tries to understand what has happened, how you could have ended up here.

“He…killed me.” You manage shakily, remembering Graves standing over you as you woke up from the lethal rush of morphine. “Graves.”

Price looks grim as he nods silently.

“But…” You trail off, confused, scared, trembling. You look at him, wrapping your arms around yourself for comfort. “I’m…alive?”

“That you are.” Price replies with grave seriousness. “And you’re not dying anytime soon.”

You find out later that ‘soon’ doesn’t begin to describe what your life will become.

You have no option but to trust these men, you realize. You think about running, but you have no idea where you are, where they’ve taken you. As you’re gently escorted off the plane on an abandoned runway somewhere in the desert, you think about climbing back aboard and forcing the pilot to take you home.

There’s nothing back there for you, you realize. Not with your outstanding debts and mistakes, not when Graves will be able to track you down.

You curl into a corner of the safehouse- skittish and forlorn as you lose yourself in your thoughts. The others busy themselves disposing of their gear, talking in low voices, and you ignore the sympathetic looks they offer you. 

Gaz settles in front of you, pushes a steaming mug of something warm into your hands, and you manage a grateful glance.

“Where are we?” You ask him quietly, and he gives you a worried little smile. 

“A few hours outside Cairo. A safehouse. An old one.”

You hear Soap sneeze in another room, complaining about spiderwebs. It summons a weary smile to your features.

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” You ask quietly, and Gaz stands, offers you a hand so you rise with him.

“Of course.” He tells you, and places a hand on your shoulder to guide you in the direction of the brightly lit kitchen. “But first? Dinner. Can’t have you starve to death.”

“Will that actually kill me?” You think, but offer no other reply

Dinner is a mix of MREs and canned fruit from one of the cabinets. You watch as Ghost passes his pineapple pieces over to Soap, who swallows them down happily. Price leans over to murmur something to him, and Soap huffs a little sound of amusement around his fork. You observe them, realizing that there’s a warm familiarity between all of them, a trust that runs inherently deep and profound. It summons a little pang of longing inside you, wishing that maybe you might find something similar one day

You pick at your dinner, not really hungry. The food sits uneasily in your stomach with your anxiety, and as the plates lay scattered across the table the others finally turn to you.

“You died.” Price begins, startlingly direct.

“Yes.” You tell him breathily in return. He nods, pauses before his next words.

“So did all of us.”

You blink at that, trying to process- before Soap finally chimes in.

“Aye, your commander shot me straight in the neck, the bastard.” He grins sunnily. “Shoulda seen his face when I got right back up, fit as a fiddle.”

You do smile at that, imagining Grave’s utter shock at a dead man walking. It fades as you fidget with the cooling mug in your hands.

“So…what?” You ask quietly. “I’m some kind of…immortal?”

The silence that follows is deafening.

You look up, meet the blank stares of the men before you, and feel your stomach turn to ice.

“You’re kidding.”

Price shakes his head slowly, and you watch as he reaches for a cigar in his jacket. 

“Those’ll kill you.” You want to tell him, but you wonder if it truly is a moot point.

“We were all like you, once.” He sighs as smoke spills from his mouth. “Soldiers, young, trying to do some good in a war we didn’t ask for.”

They tell you their stories, and you sit transfixed as the tale of their lives unravel before you. 

Gaz and Soap are the ‘youngest’ they claim, both in age and in the time they first died. World War 2, they tell you. Gaz was a pilot shot down in France, and Soap was an infantryman only a few hundred miles west. 

“Price found me.” Gaz tells you, smiling fondly at the older man, who returns the expression.

Price tells you of the vision he had- of Kyle terrified, tugging at his straps as his plane burned and spiraled out of control, only to wake up completely unscathed in a pasture. Of course, he’d been killed twice over by German forces before Price managed to find him. Gaz had been the same as you- flighty, scared, uncertain. Price had hauled him to an abandoned farmhouse, had explained to him the same they explain to you now- that one day you just stop dying. You don’t age. You can’t be killed. You blackout, bleed out, and then you just wake back up. 

“Soap had it less easy.” He nods to the Scot, who grimaces. Ghost tilts his head in Soap’s direction.

“You want me to tell em, Johnny?”

Soap grumbles, and explains the story of waking up downriver, having drowned, with his entire squad dead after a charge across the Rhine. He tried to find his way back under the cover of night and found a man in a mask instead. He thought he was the reaper coming to collect his soul, but when Ghost started trying to explain immortality and becoming ageless, Soap had stared at him in complete disbelief- and then ran.

“You pitched a fit when I finally caught you.” Ghost remarks smugly, and Johnny’s frown deepens.

“Couldnae help it.” He grouses. “You did a shite job of explaining. Plus-” He jabs a finger in his friend’s direction. “You shot me.”

You blink at that, looking at Ghost, who shrugs, completely unrepentant.

“You tried to escape.”

“But still-!”

“And they’ve been trying to kill each other ever since.” Gaz adds cheekily as the two bicker.

“No killing each other.” Price reminds them sternly, and it quiets down the squabbling. 

“Wait-” You try, looking to Soap and Gaz. “So you’re…what, like 100 years old?”

“Give or take a few years.” Soap offers. “I’m the older one.”

Gaz snorts. “You are not.”

“I got found first.”

“I was literally born before you.”

“By eight months.”

“Still counts.”

You turn to Ghost. “So then how old are you?”

“I stopped counting.” He replies plainly. “16th century.”

Your jaw drops. Ghost looks smug at your expression as you try to run the numbers.

“You’re leaving out the part where you were in the Anglo-Scottish War, Simon.” Soap bemoans, displeased. It sours Ghost’s expressions as he turns to the Scot.

“I didn’t even know you yet.” He remarks, mildly annoyed, and it does little to ease Soap’s vague irritation. 

“So then Price found you too.” You comment, and Ghost turns back to you.

“After years of chasing him.” Price interjects. “There’s a reason we call him ‘Ghost’.”

You learn later about the things Ghost doesn’t tell you- about being buried alive by his enemies, of suffocating and dying over and over as he clawed through the dirt on his way to freedom. An inevitable, stifling death where he didn’t understand how he kept coming back, only to suffocate once more.

All eyes then turn to Price, who regards you with a knowing smile.

“Old.” He responds to your wordless question. “Too old.”

You want to press him, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes that makes you bite your tongue.

“So…do you…we…” You correct slowly. “...get sick? Starve? Drown?”

“Can’t say I’ve ever been sick.” Ghost provides. “Been starved and drowned, though.”

“Starving is a fool’s death.” Price says, oddly grim. His cigar burns down to ash, and he sighs. 

There’s a solemn silence that settles over the safehouse then, and you feel the heavy weight of unspoken words sink between you all. 

“There’s rules for us.” Price states then, once more reigning in his air of authority that draws you all a little straighter, attentive. 

He goes on to tell you the rules that these men live and die by.

Don’t be seen. Don’t stay in one place for more than a few years at a time. If you die, move on. Stay together. Always communicate. Never leave a man behind.

They’ve spent decades, centuries trying to find ways to use their time to the best of their ability- and the only thing they’ve come to is to stay as soldiers, trying their best to scrub the scum off the face of the earth so the world stays clean. Illegal drug trade, weapons smuggling, extremism, genocide, doing whatever they can to help the innocent and the blameless from violence, and dying to do so. 

What else is there to do with all the time? They tell you. Money, luxury, empires, it doesn’t matter when you live forever. So instead they fight, do what they can to save humanity from itself. It’s not an easy job, but it must be done. 

They’ve seen things that haunt the shadows of their eyes, witness to the worst villainy and grotesqueness humanity has to offer. They’ve all had to take years off when the burden of the world became too heavy for their souls. 

You don’t learn of the time when one of them, and they’ll never say who, tried to give up entirely, had become lost as he desperately tried to rid himself of his immortality. They don’t speak of the decade it took to bring him back, to mend his soul back to fullness once more. It’s a gift, they’ll tell you, but you too will come to learn it’s a curse.

The silence is broken by Soap.

“Can be fun, sometimes.” He offers. “Kyle and I have a runnin’ bet over who dies first in whatever year we’re in.”

“No killing each other.” Price reiterates, scowling at Soap and Gaz, who look guilty. “Not even for fun.”

You make a note to ask about that story later.

“And most of all…” Price goes on, voice grave. “Don’t get captured.”

You remember the infirmary, the cuffs, Graves standing over you with his cold, calculating gaze as fear mounted higher inside you.

You shudder, and Soap lays a warm hand on your shoulder in reassurance.

“They won’t find you.” Ghost provides, and his voice is softer, eyes kinder. “You’re with us now.”

“Simon is right.” Gaz adds seriously. “We’ve been doing this for decades. Your commander has nothing on us.”

You offer him a grateful smile, and remember his warm eyes in the moment you first met him.

“We’ll be here when you wake up.”

These men saved you from a fate that was out of your control. They rescued you, kept you safe, and refused to leave you behind. They brought you to safety, comforted you, and even now they take care of you from your own fear of the future.

“You’re one of us.” Price offers quietly, strangely tender. His hand settles on yours, squeezes it hard for just a moment. “We don’t leave behind one of our own.”

You smile at him through the tears, more grateful than you can express. You’re still scared, and in the years to come you’ll still have nightmares of the man who killed you twice over, who had once been your ally. His betrayal sits in your heart as distant terror, and when it becomes too much your new family holds you, comforts you once more.

You’ll grow with them, fight with them. You’ll hold them as they breathe their last, cry with them over the things you couldn’t accomplish in your never ending fight against the worst of humanity. You’ll lament the agelessness between you all, but will help each other to stand once more. You’ll stand beside them for the centuries to come, and you’ll die alongside them.

And then you’ll wake up.

[ahhhwomen]

Eternal Slumber.

Vampire Empire

Part 5

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: This is kinda just a filler chapter while I work on requests (if anyone else have any feel free to drop by my inbox), so it may be a little while until part 6, that being said, enjoy lovelies!

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), death, suicidal ideation  Minors DNI 18+

Summary: They say a taste of death can change a person forever. However, they never take into consideration, that maybe, that’s the only thing coating your tongue on a regular basis.

Word Count: 2k

Taglist

There are tiny spikes of ice against the metal, almost like a layer of fuzz over the orange rust. It creeps into every crevice, the metal bars groan and creak, and the water, frozen inside some of the weaker spots, bursts and tears apart the material.

The cold was affecting everything.

You stare at the metal hook responsible for keeping you in place. The concrete around it is dented and smoldering. With a microscope, it would look like a mountain falling apart. Stone by stone.

It wouldn’t take much force; you ponder if you could release it with just a weak tug. You probably could, but you don’t bother.

Your body sinks lower, and the concrete scratches against your stomach. Red welts burn in displeasure as the friction reawakens the former punishment. It’s as if the weight of your body has doubled overnight, you can’t keep yourself up.

It’s hard to breathe.

It’s hard to stay awake…

The cold was affecting everything.

Including you.

You glance out the window with meager eyes. The trees pass by faster than you can keep track. Your head pounds, and you want to rest.

Just for a moment-

A gruff voice disturbs your peace for the hundredth time.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep.”

You had been lying in your enclosure all day, preserving your movements for only necessary situations. You wanted to dream it all away, but you knew you shouldn’t.

With both your nose a fresh pink and fingertips a bleak blue there wasn’t much to do other than to study your surroundings.

Your eyes glide over the same small details you have stared at for years, though there was a beauty to your misery, every corner and prickle of this place glittered against the slim beam of light from the hallway. The golden gleam reflected like sunlight against the ice, however, where you lay chained and tense under your red lamp, it felt more like a mockery.

With a sigh, you looked over to the empty shackles, frozen to the ground opposite of you. Your muscles burn as you grip the ground firmly and attempt to lift yourself up. Your arms shake in effort, your nails grinding against the pavement, but you can only manage to push upward for less than an inch.

Then a light thud echoes as you fall back down.

You’re so tired…

Your eyes slip closed for a second, there are a select few in the hallway that whine and growl, and you try to shift your focus onto them. Their hoarse voices screech against your eardrums, and you can’t help the grim expression as you listen to their cries…

There were more yesterday…

Of course, it was a given that this place took away some hope, but you know that isn’t the reason the numbers of distain more than halved overnight.

The rag over your lower half shifts away from you with every minuscule movement, it slides against your bottom, and slowly, the grime and dirt settled within the flimsy material slather itself against you as it leaps the final length and falls off.

It’s almost as if it knows you are too tired to move it back.

You are so sick of this place.

The cries are silenced as you hear the familiar thunder of shaking keys.

With a bitter glance to the other side of the room, you pity yourself; if you had any strength left, you would wrap the chains around your neck and hang yourself.

You huff in annoyance as the redhead shakes you vigorously yet again.

You can feel a swift, but gentle, slap on the back of your head. The redhead’s hand taps against you, her palm making quick contact with the greasy hair.

At your whining Wanda voices her opinion, “Don’t start with me, I told you not to fall asleep.” The powerful woman’s annoyed voice wraps around your lingering headache. Her calm tone was more like a booming against your forehead.

Shifting under the red leather, you whimper even more. The heating blasting towards you feels strange. Hot air sifts around you, almost like a tunnel of wind directed solely at your slumped frame. A noise, a mix of a hoarse cough and a weak cry, can be heard as Wanda shifts her own heat toward you too.

Realizing you won’t back down on your bitching, Wanda retrieves her hand with a roll of her eyes and refocuses on the road in front of her.

Trees and livestock pass by in a blur, there are tiny speckles of muck and dirt against the expensive windshield. Snow sits snug in the more stubborn corner of the window, small flacks forming a pile unmovable by the front wind.

Goosebumps prickle Wanda’s skin, the bite of winter making its entrance this early must really do a number on places like the shithole you´re from.

The car lifts for a moment as one of the bumps rustles the lambo, you shrink in on yourself, your pale skin retreating to hide under red leather. The redhead’s foot pushes downward harder, the exhilarator vrooming as she frowns.  

Wanda doesn't even know what possessed her to take you, but if she left you there, you would surely be dead by the end of the day.

Natasha was always far better at understanding humans, however, given the little bond you two have, she is unsure how the other redhead will react to your current state. She glances at you in her peripheral, your lips are tinged blue, same with your fingertips and toes.

You don’t even shiver, and Wanda passes another stop sign with no regard. Shivering is a good thing; it means your body is aware you are cold. No shivering is bad, like really fucking bad.

Her hands tighten against the steering wheel, the skin between her rings and knuckles, clamp and squeeze in an irritating pinch.

It doesn’t take a genius to understand that if you aren’t yet hypothermic, it won’t be long until you are.

With a sigh, Wanda reaches over to settle the jacket more tightly around your frame.

It’s a fifteen-minute drive to the house, Wanda makes it in seven.

Natasha frowns, and the smell of burned vegetables invades her senses. With an irritated scrunch of her nose, the redhead goes to trash yet another pot of attempted soup.

The goo of estranged ingredients jiggles unsettlingly at the top of the trashcan as Natasha pours the substance out. The ring on her left pointer clinks against the pot as she places it back on the stove.

She can never get it right.

With a huff, the redhead pulls out her cell phone, her hand wraps around the silver piece and she goes to find her messages. Her thumb makes quick work of checking on Wanda yet again, the pad of her finger taps the screen rapidly, the remains of her failure smudges against the glass, and Natasha cringes.

Her unread reply to Wanda’s previous questions remains the same, wiping her hands and phone off with the kitchen rag, the redhead walks over to her preferred room of leisure.

The clacking of her heels hitting the flooring is dampened as she steps onto the carpeted part of their little den.

A soft glow illuminates the living room, and the tenseness of her shoulders lessens as she lets the orange hue wash over her.  

Plopping herself on the green couch she reaches over to her purse, the case reports she needed Wanda’s thoughts on lying on the very top. The paper brushes against her fingers, the white sheets threatening to tear as Natasha's nimble fingers search through the mess lower down.

She is just about to read them over again, when the familiar rumble of her wife’s car, pulls into their parking lot.

Shifting the gear stick, Wanda finally manages to park, your shuffling and whining had certainly not been helping. She can see her wife waiting for her by their door, but Wanda knows she is going to have to wait a moment longer.

You sit beside Wanda, your body wringing and shifting, you feel hot, and sweat rolls down your forehead.

The black belt meant to secure you through the drive feels more like a restraint as you push your shoulders against it. Bone threatens to pop out of the socket as the strong treads hold your weight back with ease, the pressure against your bruised body does little to deter you.

Wanda tusks, “Stop that.” Her hand reaches over to you and unfastens the belt, “Calm down baby, we are already here.”

Wanda pauses.

She scrunches her eyes, her left hand tightening the hold against the steering wheel.

Wanda doesn’t do nicknames, or sweet ones anyways, not unless it’s her wife.

Yet, the nickname had slipped without a second thought.

She has little time to think about it however, the sound of weak banging calls out to her, the redhead’s attention shifts and she groans in annoyance as you have now moved on to trying your luck against the metal door.

Your fingers run along the interior of the door, the pounding in your head makes it hard to see, and everything blends together in a mess of colors and sounds. You try to feel your way to the handle, but only expensive patterning can be felt as you try gripping the handle.

“You can never make it easy for me, can you kitten?” The redhead mumbles to herself.

The black tinted windows stop anyone from seeing what is happening inside Wanda’s car, but the taller woman can see Natasha shifting uneasily at how slow her usually effective wife is being.

With a sigh, Wanda rolls up the sleeves of her blouse, the silken material gliding and scrunching at the crease of her elbow.

In an attempt to settle you, if only for a moment, Wanda presses her right hand flatly against your chest. With a controlling movement, she pushes up and down to signify a breathing cycle more suitable than your erratic one.

She holds her unoccupied hand against your thigh, rubbing it up and down gently. The friction does nothing but alarm Wanda further.

Knowing she can’t turn around now, Wanda steps out of the car, your scent leaking out into the chilly wind outside their estate.

The shift in Natasha’s behavior is one not entirely surprising yet distinctively fascinating as the smell of your cold blood clings to the inside of her nose.

The taller woman moves to your side of the car; she secures you tightly in her arms. You try your best to squirm out of her hold, your hands clawing against Wanda’s covered biceps, but with how tired you are it’s little use.

You slump into the redhead’s body. Her leather jacket forces you even deeper into the scary woman’s embrace.

Realizing there is no winning this, you finally fall into the deep exhaustion that lies beneath your skin.

Natasha stands as still as a statue. Every muscle within her expands and contracts, but she can’t move.

Until she can.

At a young age she was taught that every choice one makes has consequences, every decision she has ever seen through in her life has been planned to the very tee before any move was made. She never “vamped out”, she never made a mistake, and every notion of her life was just how she planned for it to be.

Why, because Natasha knows restraint.

Your limp body lies seemingly lifelessly in Wanda’s hands.

Natasha doesn’t think.

The weight of your slim body is removed from Wanda faster than even she can comprehend, her leather jacket that was lying close to her chest, just as you were, is now gone, just like you. For a reason she cannot explain, anger bubbles beneath the exterior of the older woman as she watches Natasha carry you to the house.

With a speed unchallengeable Wanda stands just behind her wife. Her hands wringing the material in front of her in a firm grip, the black fabric is soft inside her clutch.

Holding her back by her jacket Wanda questions her wife, “What are you doing?” her anger lingers within her tone.

Enough so that any other day Natasha would stop dead in her tracks, today, however, was not one of those days.

The thick fabric of Natasha’s suit slips from nimble fingers as Natasha rips herself away from the redhead. With a blank face, she turns toward her wife, two prominent canines peeking out between soft lips.

“She is freezing to death.”

Taglist:

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@skittlebum

@tia-thesimp

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[rushtoprove]

the deepest melancholy

pairing: aemond targaryen x f!reader rating: mature (18+) word count: 5.9k+ summary: you wished you were strong enough to fight against the life that had been planned for you, but instead you cower at the thought of marrying the dreaded kinslayer, and you were sure he wished to be marrying someone else too. but neither of you could escape this marriage. duty always prevails. chapter summary: the realm was left a mess after the war between the targaryen kin. aegon may have won but the city despises those who almost destroyed the realm. the greens have become the most feared family in the realm, and prince aemond the most frightening figure of them all. that is why the townsfolk weep as your carriage passes them. they pity the sweet girl who is to be sacrificed to the kinslayer and his family. warnings: smut. arranged marriage. uncomfortably smut. forced marriage. angst. it will get better. beauty and the beast au (?) authors note: I have a bad habit of disappearing to remain mysterious. I see my flaws. But truthfully... I never left.

masterlist

It had been six days since your arrival on this foreign shore, but you were still consumed with the sickness that comes with travelling upon the sea. Your stomach seemed to tighten with every bump or shift of the carriage, and every jolt had your dress being pulled tighter into your fists. The echoing voices and cries made it known that your arrival to the red keep had gained an audience, so you slowly pulled back the curtain of the carriage and peered out to see the villagers who you would soon preside over.

“They have experienced hell little one.” Your brother sighed pitifully as he leaned over your shoulder to view the commotion. The folk looked solemnly on the moving carriage, shaking their heads and bowing towards your hidden figure. Some wept pitifully for you leaving the bile in your stomach no choice but to race upwards, and when you made eye contact with an old nun crossing herself in a silent blessing, you hastily tugged the curtains back into place and push yourself into your seat.

“You would leave me here.” You chocked out in anguish. He simply laughed. All he ever did was laugh at you.

Your brother would not support you in your sorrows. He would not weep, nor would he pity you, because it was he who was forcing you into this torment. He was the one marrying you off to the second prince of the realm. He was the one orchestrating your misery. Your brother will simply dump you at the feet of the most hated family of the realm and walk away with more land and title.

“You can thank father for your predicament sister. It was that reckless old man who fought for the traitor Rhaenyra. It was he who lost our good will with the crown. It is I who is simply trying to win back our favour and our riches.”

“They will think me a traitor like they think our father was. He fought for her because he made an oath to support her claim. They will not differentiate who was under our banner on the battlefield. They will take out their anger on me. He will take out his anger on me.” The chills that tingled your spine when you thought of your future husband should be familiar by now, but it still frightens you.

“Father was blinded. Being obligated to risk all our fortune over a pathetic oath forced upon him by the late King Viserys. He worked beside Otto Hightower that whole time. He should know better than anyone the power that man held. He should have known the battle was won before Viserys was even dead.”

“Our father was a loyal subject to Queen Rhaenyra and he fought for her because he knew she would be an admirable ruler. She would have ruled as peacefully as her father. Now we are left with a drunken fool who has started a war with the stepstones once more and his brother who is using his new position as Commander of the City Watch to use cruelty and violence on the folk of Westeros for his on pleasure.” Your father’s death was still raw and the slight against his name lit a dangerous passion in you. It was horrifying listening to your brother talk about your poor dear father so carelessly, but he simply clicked his tongue in mock shame.

“Careful now or you may lose your tongue. Aegon is King, and your dear Lord Commander shall soon control you for the rest of your life. You shall have to worship the ground he walks upon if you wish to be a dutiful wife and not anger the King’s Mother. Although I do not think you are in too much danger of him touching you as I hear you are not his type dear. There are whispers he prefers to fuck witches and hags.” You shook with rage at his condescending tone.

“He burnt countless amounts off innocent farmers and villagers and left nothing but ashes wherever he went. You would give your sister to a man who murdered his own family… twice. He is Aemond the Kinslayer and you would…”

“You should be proud sister. I’ve matched you with a prince! A disfigured, cruel man who reduced half the realm to ashes, but a prince no less. Just ignore the bloodlust and violence and I’m sure it will not be so bad. All you need do is bare his heir and look pretty.” His childish snickers as he cut you off had you seeing red, but you understood you could do nothing but seethe silently. How could he be so proud to sell off his sister to the notorious brute that had burnt cities to the ground and slayed anyone who got in the way of his family as they usurped Rhaenyra’s throne. His bloodlust had even led to the murder of his own kin. How could such an animal be expected to make a suitable husband?

The sound of the city guards yelling for the gates to be opened, and the grinding and rattling that followed meant that you had finally arrived at the red keep, and that your life was over at the meek age of one and twenty. Your brother wasted no time jumping from the carriage the moment the door was swung open, but you stayed for just a second longer. Hovering the tips of your fingers over the stitching of your family's sigil that was engraved in the cushions around you, you let out an unsteady sigh. You thought of your father, of his kindness and his love. His bravery and his wit. He would have let you marry someone you were comfortable with; he would have wanted you to have a peaceful life. Your brother was to throw you into the dragon den.

“May I present my sister to your graces?! She’s a shy little thing forgive her!’ You brother boasted with a joyous laugh. His hand reached into the carriage and grabbed blindly for you, leaving you no choice but to straighten yourself, and swallow the melancholy that came with remembering your past. You did not take his hand, but instead stepped slowly from the carriage with a bowed head, allowing almost no vision of what was in front of you. You let yourself fall into a graceful curtsey and remained low. There was large audience lined around the courtyard of the Red Keep, leaving you nervously tremble.

“Your graces.” You whispered, slowly letting your eyes raise. There were many figures that had lined up to welcome you, but it was the four at the very front who demanded your attention. King Aegon sat in his wheelchair; half his face taken up by the burnt scarring the late Princess Rhaenys had left him upon her death, looking bored by the entire meeting. His wife, Princess Heleana stood beside him, but her gaze was towards the empty spot to the left of us, and her incoherent mumbling seemed to be ignored by everyone around her. Her mother, Alicent Hightower, had a hand on her daughter's elbow but you could not decide if it was to support her daughter or herself. She seemed overcome by exhaustion and the lines on her face seemed to age her more than she was. Her hair had begun greying and the unkept strands made you think she had run her hand through it vigorously.

“Welcome to our court. We have been eagerly awaiting your arrival.” The smile that the dowager queen forced gave you no source of comfort, but you took the welcome as permission to stand at your full posture, and you finally allowed yourself to gaze upon your future husband. You would be lying if you did not admit to letting your gaze be drawn straight to the ugly scarring that peaked out from beneath his leather eye patch. It seemed to match the tight leather attire that fitted his lean body. He was a true Targaryen prince, with his perfect white hair and bright purple eye, so you were not shocked by his beauty. After all, Targaryen's were closer to the Gods than men. His looming figure was so still you could mistake it for a statue but proving not to be only by the slightest bow of his head as he gazed at you. His blank expression gave you no hint of whether he was satisfied by you and the silence that followed his mother's greeting left much to be uncertain of.

“I am much appreciative to be welcomed so kindly.” You wish you had the prowess to stand tall, or the courage to say something spiteful about this dreaded situation you had found yourself in; but you were scared.

“Pretty little thing you are my dear future sister. So innocent and quiet. I don’t know if my dear brother shall know what to do with you.” The King mocked Aemond boldly leaving a few courtiers to snicker, and Aegon turned his gaze knowingly towards his younger brother, eager for a reaction, but Aemond Targaryen simply stared at you. Trying politely to avert your gaze, your eyes moved to stare at his feet, but something drew your attention back to him not one minute later. His gaze was still on you.

“My sister shall allow whatever Prince Aemond desires. She is the most dutiful thing. I’m sure she will make a devoted wife.” You tensed at your brother’s demeaning comments and felt a swell of rage as the young king whistled in delight.

“Perhaps I shall wed her than! Take two wives just as my namesake did. Or perhaps I shall get rid of… that.” All eyes but one was drawn to Queen Heleana, but she did not notice and instead continued whispering with a sad smile. You could not help your brows from furrowing in empathy for the broken princess. It was no secret to the realm what horrors the woman had been through. The anguish that would come with watching your oldest son slain before your very eyes. The disrespect her husband spewed made your skin crawl. Feeling choked up by the pity, you averted your gaze towards Aemond Targaryen.

His eye had not left you.

You both stood in silence for a beat before Aemond slowly took a step forward. The quiet chatter of the courtiers stopped instantly and suddenly the atmosphere was heightened with anticipation of what the prince was about to do. Your breath was caught and with each step he took forward, you heart hammered harder. The lurching your stomach felt in the carriage was nothing compared to this very moment. It was as if time stretched longer than you ever thought possible, leaving you to feel as if you had been stuck in that one spot for eternity, waiting for the strides of your future husband to reach you. His lean figure was straight, and his gaze remained intense, inspecting your reaction as he moved towards you. When he finally reached your frozen figure, he towered over you, looking down with an almost cruel amusement in his eye. He finally moved his gaze from your face to give you a once over, slowly letting it fall down your entire body, before crawling back up.

“Shall I show you around the keep my lady?” His hand slowly extended, and you felt yourself hypnotised, reaching for it without a thought.

“I would be thankful for the tour of your home my prince, but I would not want to keep you from your duties.” You breathed out. If you were of the right mind, you would curse yourself at how kindly you greeted him, but alas you were overwhelmed by how close he stood, and how godly he looked up closely. Without breaking eye contact, Prince Aemond raised your knuckles to his lips and lightly let them brush against your skin, leaving the feeling of fire to consume your body.

“It would be my pleasure,” His voice was low as he finished the sentence with your name, and you were hypnotized by the way it rolled of his lips. If he had any idea of the sudden intoxication that had overpowered you, he did not show any hint of it, and you were thankful he did not boast of it. You were already to humiliated to bare. You were never the type of foolish girl to be besotted with a man, let alone a monster like this, but Aemond Targaryen seemed to conquer your very being with his mere presence. You were smart enough to recognise this was going to cause nothing but trouble for you.

“I would not wish to burden you.” You whispered softly for only his ears but threaded your arm over his awaiting arm all the same. You fell in step with his powerful strides and did not spare your brother a second glance as you passed him by. The prince breezed through the crowd who had come to gawk at the poor young girl who was getting sacrificed to this vicious man, and you found yourself revelling in the way they quickly scurried to the side to let you pass. Your amusement was short lived due to a hand reaching out and clutching at your elbow, leaving you staggering away from your future husband and into the body of a nameless courtier.

“Bless you sweetheart. Bless your poor soul. Let the Gods protect you from him.” The crowd around you began feverously whispering to one another, shocked by the man’s audacity, but the room was quickly silenced as two knights hoisted the man back with a shout and dragged him so fast, he had no chance to gain any footing. His body was dragged away as he cried and kicked his feet like a little boy leaving you once again unable to breathe. It was as if you had iced water thrown over you. The spell was broken, and you suddenly remembered who you held onto so eagerly. You were overcome by the smell of smoke and rot, as if you had been transported to the fields that Aemond Targaryen had so happily burnt to ashes. You swear you could smell the burnt flesh of his ghosts in that very moment.

“Come now my lady. Let’s get you away from this noise.” Aemond stared at the man being heaved away, expressionless. It was as if he was used to the scene that unfolded and was almost bored by the antics of the courtiers. You tried not to let him see your trembling fingers as you laced your hand upon his elbow and looked down in shame.

“What shall happen to him?” You don’t know why you asked, because you know what happens to those who speak out against this Targaryen family. Aemond began his pace once more but this time you could tell he was surveying every movement around them, waiting for another attack.

“He will be executed. We do not allow disobedience in our court.” He said your name as he finished his sentence and gazed down at you.

You understood the warning.

+++

Your wedding was a solemn affair. You had imagined when the time came around, there would be laughter and dancing, flowers and wine thrown around. Colourful and delightful with a husband who would steal kisses at the wedding feast and spend the night spinning you in his arms. Your family surrounding you. Your father hiding his tears as he watched you give your hand to the man you loved.

It was nothing like that. The crowd was silent as you walked. Not one person in the room smiled. The crowd bowed their heads in respect or pity, you cared not to know, and you had no energy to try and feign delight at the altar. Your husband was no different. He stared ahead with a grimace, but continued preforming the duty that was marrying you. You tried not to look at him during the ceremony but failed only once. He looked disconcerted by the whole experience making your heart ache. You wondered if he wished he was marrying the witch your brother had so carelessly mentioned. Your cursed heart ached at the thought. Not from jealousy, but from the desire of wanting to marry someone who wanted you. You were being chained to this man forever, and he wished for you to be someone else. But you could not fault him in that. Gods knows you too wished to be marrying someone else.

The wedding feast felt more like the wake at a funeral. There was a band playing some music in the balcony above, but no one moved. You sat stiffly by your new husband as you both stared ahead, trying to ignore the soft murmurs of the crowded hall. His finger were clenched around his chair and he did not speak as numerous courtiers steeped forward to present you both with your wedding gifts. It was left up to you to utter your appreciation at the useless artifacts while they scurried away, fearful of angering the prince with their presence.

“Please smile Aemond. Or do something that is not sitting there and scowling.” You pretended to ignore it when your new mother-in-law hissed into her sons' ear, then tried not to cower when he moved his hand to rest on yours above the table. The whole crowd would have seen the way you both flinched at the contact.

“Smile sister. This is a joyous occasion.” Your brother muttered lowly beside your ear, sometime after Alicent had ordered the same thing. You felt Aemond’s hand clench around yours just slightly, and you knew that he had heard your brother. Slowly you inched closer to your husband and gave him a slight smile, but you were sure it came out as a grimace instead.

“How will the Kingsguard handle tonight without their leader?” Whether it was out of politeness or awkwardness, you do not know, but the conversation you tried to start was quickly shut down by the monotone voice of your husband. He did not react to your words and let his gaze remain on the crowd below.

“I will be joining the patrols once we are finished our duty tonight.” You slipped your hand from his and clenched your wedding dress tightly in discomfort. You felt his gaze turn to you leaving your skin burning under his gaze.

“I see.”

You turned away from him and did not look at him until an hour later when he stood from his seat. The music halted at once and the room was silenced. The guards around the room quickly stood tall as Aemond surveyed the audience.

“My wife and I have grown quite tired from the festivities. It is time we retire to our bedchamber. Please, continue enjoying the feast my mother has so careful crafted.” Your new ladies-in-waiting quickly moved to your side from all corners of the room while the wedding party moved to walk you both to your doom. You were allowed to step into the room without your husband so that your ladies could help you ready yourself. On the other side of the door, Aemond was doing the same. It seemed he was joining you in your quarters tonight, in your new bed. There would be no safe place for you to escape the man.

“Are you alright my lady?” One of your ladies whispered as she undid your tight corset. The silk ribbon was unravelled and with each breath you released the closer you were to crumbling to the floor. You had spent the last two weeks in a constant state of fear and melancholy, and it all seemed to be coming to ahead at the worst time possible.

“I am alright Alyssa. Just tired.” You ignored the look the three women around you gave one another and instead moved your gaze elsewhere and landed on the worst possible spot. You had left your bed a crumpled mess this morning, after a night of restlessly tossing and turning, but you could not tell that anymore. The sheets were perfectly straight and tightened in the corners, folded down with such precision it made you feel sick. Your mother had died in childbirth, and you had no sisters so your knowledge of what was about to happen was limited, but you knew to expect the pain and blood at the hands of your husband.

“I hope you are not truly tired Brother. Your night has only just begun.” King Aegon slurred voice was muffled by the door but still audible. If you were not already filled with dread then, you sure as hell were now.

“Aegon, please just leave your comments for one night.” Alicent’s tired voice sighed back. You could not help the tears that began falling as your ladies began the final touches, fluffing your hair and untying the sleep gown so that it would be easier to remove. Without so much a glance at those in the room, you clamoured into the bed and wept.

“My lady, you cannot let them see this. They will think you ungrateful. It would do Prince Aemond great dishonour.” The three girls rushed to their lady in crisis and were quick to brush your hair from your face and hold you in comfort. You hardly talked to these girls, as they were a gift from your new family, and you assumed them to be spies for your husband and his scheming mother. But in this moment, you could only think of the comfort of being held.

“I’m scared.” You whimpered as they tried to sooth you with their murmurs.

“It is a scary thing my lady, but do not fret. It is over quicker than you can imagine.” Caitlyn, a relative of the Tully’s assured you as she stroked your hair.

“Oh yes. Just turn your gaze to something else in the room and it will be finished before you even settle on an object to admire.” Margaret, a distant relative of the Stark’s agreed with the assurance. It did not help but you appreciated the before. You wished to be held longer, but a stiff knock to the door echoed around your room.

“Is the Lady prepared?” The girls were quick to pat away your tears, and with a quick curtsey they moved to open the door. You instead turned your face to the side and stared at the new moon that was almost in the centre of the window frame. You did not need to look to know who had knocked.

“Yes, my prince. She is awaiting you.” With a curtsey they rushed out the room, leaving a silence that was only disrupted by the slight crackle of the candles that lit your room. You had tried hard to replicate the warmth of your room back home, but it had never felt colder. Time seemed to once again slow, and it felt a lifetime before you heard the click of the door closing. It remained quiet, and you thought for a second that your husband had perhaps decided he could not bear this just as much as you. Perhaps he had stormed off to the city to lead his guards in slaughtering the criminals within the walls of this wretched place. Perhaps you could sleep peacefully tonight, safe from the beast for one more night. The candles going out one by one let you know that your dreams were crushed, and that you were not alone in the room. He was silent as he crossed the floor, putting out all sources of light until you were left in the darkness of the night. The darkened moon did nothing to help you see.

“Do you know what to expect?” His voice sliced through the silence, choking you. You squeezed your eyes closed and did a small nod.

“I know enough.” You whispered as the bed beside you dipped. He sat beside you for a moment, and even in the darkness you could feel his eye on you.

“I shall try not to hurt you, but it will be uncomfortable.” Your eyes remained tightly closed and your fingers began to tremble. You did not expect any truth in his words. This man was vicious, known for the way he revelled in pain and torture. Why would he treat the daughter of a traitor any different?

“I would be most grateful.” You choked out and quickly turned away as you felt more tears build up. Aemond’s breath caught and for a moment it felt as he if was grieved by your whimper, but with a soft grunt he still turned to you and mounted his body atop of yours. The close contact of his chest on your chest sucked the breath from your lungs and you reached for his arms to stop him from crushing you, but he never did. He seemingly balanced his weight perfectly atop of you and slowly allowed his hand to rest on your hip.

“Please breathe. I do not wish to watch you suffocate wife.” He whispered as his fingers moved delicately across your clothed stomach. The reminder had you sucking deep in through your nose and exhaling staggered though your lips. His hand continued to dance lightly over your clothed torso, and you could not help but squeak as his hand moved towards your breast. You had never even kissed a man, let alone have one like this. He could not choke back his soft chuckle at your innocence, as he firmly pushed his palm down.

“Oh.” You whimpered in confusion. He pushed his hips down against yours and let out an almost relieved sigh at the contact. He began a slow movement of his hips as one hand groped you and the other clung to your hip. Your body felt alight with fire, and you could do nothing more but clutch at your husbands' arms in confusion. His teeth moved to your ear and your body arched against his at the feeling of them grazing your neck. Your brain seemed to stop and the overwhelming feelings that were all happening at once was almost too much to bare.

“Breathe.” He ordered in a soft murmur as his lips pressed on the skin between your jaw and ear. You wanted to tell him the truth in that very moment. You were trying to breathe, but you are worried you have forgotten how.

“Sorry.” Was all you could muster. His hand moved from your breast to trailing back down your body and began bunching the bottom of your nightdress up. You could feel the lace of it brushing up your legs leaving bumps to litter your skin at the soft caress. Your body froze in fear at what was about to happen. Once the dress was secured above your waist, you gasped at Aemond’s hand moving to clutch at your thigh. You were shocked at the feeling of someone else’s skin gripping yours.

“Have you prepared yourself?” He breathed out as he pushed his hips forward. It seemed to brush something that left you once again arching into him, only this time you were much more desperate to keep that contact.

“My ladies prepared me.” You stuttered out in confusion. Had he not already asked that to your ladies? His amused sigh made you think you had misunderstood his question.

“I sure hope they haven’t prepared you the way I ask about.” He grunted. Getting up on to his knees, you found yourself shivering at the loss of his body heat. Your arms dropped from his arms leaving you lying breath him, trying hard to steady your panting breaths.

“I have been bathed and pampered to.” His soft hum filled the room as you explained your answer, then he began moving his hand towards the inside of your thighs.

“My Prince!” You cried out, pushing away his fingers as they moved towards his destination. Your cheeks reddened with a deep crimson that only you could be aware of in this dark room.

“Do you want this to hurt? I promised I would help, and this is the only way.” He peeled your hands away and continued as if he had not been interrupted. Your irregular breaths began heavily, and you wondered if the whole castle could hear the noise.

“Prince…” You gasped as you felt his finger run up your most sacred area. He let out an almost disappointed sigh, and you were overtaken by the shame. Was there something wrong? Your fears were cut short as you felt him begin dancing the tips of his fingers down, then once again back up.

“You are not ready yet. But I shall prepare you.” His voiced was that of duty, with no shift of tone or colour. You had no choice but to lie in utter confusion at what was happening. No one had warned you about this part of consummating a marriage. The feeling of his fingers felt foreign, but you found your muscles almost relaxing under the touch.

“Aemond…” You sighed out his name without a though of his titles or nobility and this small gesture seemed to be enough for your husband to begin applying more pressure.

“Relax under my touch. This will help.” His voice whispered into the darkness. When he moved his finger up to begin circling your bud you almost flew from the bed. He seemed to expect such a reaction from you as he had already pushed his free hand into your stomach to keep you unmoving. You whimpered out his name again as he began to pick up speed and you found yourself trying to push away from his touch, even though you weren’t sure you wanted it to end. It felt as if a soft tremor was building inside your stomach, and you soon found your body clenching out of its relaxed state.

“Please don’t.” You don’t know what you were saying this but the fear at the feeling building inside you had you beginning to panic beneath his touch.

“Shhh, trust me.” He whispered your name above you before slowly moving his fingers to push inside you. The foreign feeling was too much, and you quickly gripped onto the second prince and screwed your eyes shut. His thumb remained circling your bud as his finger began stroking your inner walls leaving you crying out in shock. Your body tensed with each stroke of his fingers, and you soon began whimpering incoherently. You felt that pressure suddenly overcome you and it was no longer a soft tremor, but an overwhelming sensation that only kept building. It began the panic in your mind, and you clung tighter onto Aemond.

“Please…” You chocked out in desperation, pushing your hips forward into his palm. He began quickening his pace and you could not help but throw your head back and moan.

“You’re doing so well, good girl.” You don’t know what happened at his words, but your body arched, and you cried out as the waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you crying out and clutching Aemond’s shoulders. The pressure suddenly broke and you felt your voice disappear and instead seemed to scream out silently. Your body trembled and clenched throughout this feeling and Aemond did not halt his movements once. It was only when your body seemed to jolt from his touch that he slowed his movements pulled his fingers from you, leaving a slick trail to follow his touch.

“I’m… my prince, forgive me.” You were horrified by the way your body reacted at his touch.

“You did everything I had hoped you would.” He murmured before moving to unlace his pants. Your mind was too busy spinning to register the gesture, so you just stared dumbly as his hand slid underneath them. You watched in silent curiosity as his hand seemingly began moving and Aemond’s eyes furrowed in frustration.

“Could you… touch my arms or something?” He grunted as his hand seemed to quicken its movements. Your mouth was gaping like a fish as you cautiously nodded. With the gentlest touch you began tracing his arm upwards, blushing like madwoman. His movements did not halt once as you nervously ran your fingers up to his shoulders. You thought of his hand gripping your thigh, and how pleasing the firm grip he used was, so you nervously tightened your grip. It seemed to work because Aemond began adjusting himself out of his trousers. He allowed himself to fall forward to his original position of lying atop your body making your body still in anticipation of what was to come.

“Just turn your gaze to something else in the room and it will be finished before you even settle on an object to admire.” Margaret’s words were a reminder for you, so you turned your gaze to the window and tried to count how many stars you could see. You managed to get to twelve before he pushed himself into you and stole your gaze back greedily.

“Agh Aemond.” You were choked by the feeling as Aemond’s irregular breaths consumed your hearing.

‘I know, just…” He did not finish as he sunk deeper, and you cried out at the sharp pain inside you. It was not unbearable, but there was a great discomfort. You found yourself burying your head into his shoulder as he slowly began a slow movement with his hips leaving you gulping out a groan of pain.

“Just turn your gaze to something else in the room and it will be finished before you even settle on an object to admire.” One star. Two stars. Three stars. Your bottom lip trembled as the pleasure of your night seemed to finish and instead you were left trying not to squirm away in pain. Aemond’s silver strands kept moving to block your vision, so you finally turned back. Your nosed grazed his and you saw his eye widen in the darkness before his entire body stilled. He groaned deeply as he pressed his hips further into you and you could feel him twitching against you.

“It is done.” He breathed out. His movement was quick as he pulled out and moved to sit on the side of the bed. You were shocked by his quick movements and watched in a frazzled state as he quickly began relacing his pants. Following his lead, you pulled your dress back down and moved to rest against the headboard of your grand bed.

“I must attend the city watch now. I shall visit your chambers again tomorrow night until we…” You could tell a distant though had cut him off, but you knew what he meant. Until a child was conceived you would have to suffer him in your bed most nights.

“Did I…. Did I do something wrong?” You pulled the sheets to your chin in confusion at how desperate the man was to leave your company. He stood up and began pulling on his jacket that he must have taken off when he entered your rooms.

“You did everything perfectly. It is done now.” He moved towards the door, leaving you alone and disorientated by him. He turned back to look at you and you wondered what you must have looked like to him. Blushing and breathless, your hair a mess and your chest heaving, you assumed you looked a fool to the prince.

“Good night ābrazȳrys.” He mumbled. Your breath caught at his Valyrian, and you felt your brows furrow as the door quickly opened then closed swiftly. He was gone but you could hear a small commotion on the other side of the door.

“Aemond…”

“It is done mother; I have done my duty. Now leave me in peace.”

[writingforatwistedworld]

Requests are open?? May I request Lilia and Malleus from the self aware au with a player who is an artist and draws them a lot?

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, obsession, death, murder, hypocrisy, fire, coma, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior

Malleus Draconia/Lilia Vanrouge-Player is an artist who draws them a lot

Doesn't matter what kind of style and form of art you practice, you have a fan

Classical? Great! Realism? Wonderful! Stick-man-style? He put the picture in a golden frame (All hail the stick-man style!)

But if Malleus were to ever find out that said stick man is supposed to be him, well he would be over the moon

It was a totally normal day, a cat was choking up a hairball and some poor student fell off of his broom in flying class and was now stuck in a tree

But that is of no importance to us

What is of importance though is Malleus strolling down the path down to Ramshackle and seeing you sit on the stairs with paper and other drawing utensils

Completely normal. Peaceful even. Maybe a bit too peaceful

You see, if you hadn't been too absorbed into rubbing colored pigments into dead wood then you would have seen the tall black wall approaching you

A shadow falls over your shoulder and you scream

Is that... him? Why is the Overseer draw-oh

Malleus is metaphorically (more or less. Meh, he is probably this close to doing it also literally) frothing from his mouth after seeing himself in more than just one paper after the small stack stabilizing the paper you drew on slipped from your hands

Forgetting his manners he rips the paper from the ground, staring with eyes wide as plates onto the thinly pressed wood (granny is somewhere shaking her head)

Why would the Overseer, watcher over worlds, almighty ruler of everything, a god, draw him?

Coughing nervously you explained that you just are interested in are and liked to draw him

Later when he is back in Diasomnia Lilia is greeted with the sight of a tail-wagging Malleus (yes Malleus has a tail and I have no idea how he hides it)

“Lilia, the Overseer likes to draw me.”-moments before calamity struck and Malleus accidentally lit the dorm aflame from sheer joy

But... perhaps you shouldn't draw anyone else

Who knows? Maybe that person disappears for a while and just to be found in a deep coma (don't do it)

Whoa whoa whoa darling, let us not jump at him from nowhere with the fact that you like to draw him

After all, he is quite old and we don't know what his poor heart can still take

Now how about you tell him about your interest in art fir- ah... From your expression I take that it is too late for that

Indeed it is

One day you were just sitting there in Ramshackle, T-posing or whatever you do when you are not drawing

Remember that scene when Lilia was introduced to us? Well “How do you do fellow kids” over here just popped out of thin air

Now, that would have been nothing special if it wasn't for the stack of paper with his face on it on the table...

Lilia is staring, you are staring and the gargoyles are facepalming

Poor man has to take a seat all whilst you watch him with cold sweat running down your back

Suddenly Lilia isn't that “always energetic” guy but looks a lot more vulnerable

In Lilias mind however he is planning how to burn that one portrait of himself in the Draconia castle and replace it with your art

Or so he thought until he looked what else you drew

For goodness sake, someone call an ambulance! I think he is about to pass out!

If the situation wasn't already awkward enough for you (and euphoric for him) Lilia suddenly kneels down, saying something about being honored and him swearing to be forever loyal to you

Oh sweet summer child, how easily you told him “Oh thanks...” If only you knew what would follow...

You see, Lilia might have had seen a few too many heads being severed from their bodies but, oh well, all those students were a teeny tiny bit too close to you for his comfort

Suddenly there is an increase in missing students who get found in... uh... “not compatible with life” conditions

See? It's dangerous outside! Let him watch over you!

Says the person responsible for everything

You had shown your appreciation through your art, now it's his turn to show his

And what if a few students need to get hurt? (Yeah, “hurt”)

[staytinyville]

Burn It (Pt. 1)

↣ Summary: You were only a decoy for all those who wanted your family off the throne. The real leader was your horrible sister who ruled with fear in their subjects. You only did what was told of you and if others came to assassinate you then so be it. 

↣ Characters/Pairing: Eventual!Min Yoongi x Reader, Slight Namjoon x Reader,

↣ Genre: Historical, Mature

↣ AU/Trope info: Historical!au, Queen!Reader, Rebel!Yoongi, 

↣ Word Count: 6.1k

↣ Warnings: Abuse, Toxic household, 

↣ A/N: Honestly I always get inspired by all the historical stories on here and I just really wanted to sit my ass down to write. Part two might just have smut y’all so tell me if you want lmao. Also can you please tell me what you guys think of my writing? I don’t know I want to publish sometime soon but like if I suck at writing why bother.

Staytinyville’s Permanent Taglist

↣ Affiliates: @k-labels , @k-vanity

↣ Special Tags: @anyamaris , @kpop-stories-21

↣ Special Thanks: Thank you @saradika-graphics for the amazing banners! Please go check her out if you have specific banners in mind. She is great!

You usually slept on your back, worried about the day someone came into your room to do something. It was all you ever thought about the moment you were told why your parents truly made you the queen. 

You weren’t a light sleeper by any means, so you knew the moment someone stepped into your room something was going to happen. It wasn’t one of your guards who would announce their presence or even your family who you knew the staff would call out to you the moment they slammed the door open. 

You didn’t dare to move. Not when you could hear their steps in the room that were clearly trying to be quiet. Anyone who wasn’t trained to listen in to their surroundings were bound to be caught off guard by whoever it was. However after spending the last few years in fear of being killed in your sleep you taught yourself to pick up on the smallest of things.

You felt them reach the side of your bed, but still you didn’t move. You took in a deep breath, waiting for them to strike. When you made to move your body just the tiniest of bits, your eyes flew wide open at the person who suddenly had you pinned to your bed–a sharp blade placed against your throat. 

You swallowed softly, looking up into the face of your assassin. The light from outside the room was barely enough, but you could make out the scar that ran along the right side of his face. His cheeks that look round. The band that was tied against his forehead. The blonde hair that was neatly wrapped in a bun.

You didn’t make a sound though, only allowing your eyes to follow along his face. You could tell that after a moment, he began to grow confused, his eyebrows pulling together and head tilting to the side. 

You made no show of trying to fight him off. You didn’t even breathe harshly. Instead he watched as your eyes scanned over his face, eyes glittering in the moonlight that showed through the curtains. It left him baffled as you kept an even expression to it all.

“Why aren't you terrified?” He asked, clenching the blade’s handle. 

“There are things more terrifying than death.” You whispered, catching his attention.

There was a sad expression behind your eyes. He could see it hidden behind your facade. He almost faltered when he came to the realization that you were waiting for him to move the knife. But his resolve came back, quickly shaking his head to clear it.

“Then you should be thankful.” He sneered. 

He pressed the knife deep just barely breaking the skin. But he stopped completely when all you did was fall limply and close your eyes. His breath got caught in his throat, feeling conflicted over the way you were acting. 

He was told about how much of a tyrant the queen was. How she would strike at anyone who dared to even breathe in her direction. She was cruel and followed in her parents footsteps of ruling the kingdom with fear. Those who worked in the castle that were part of the rebellion had all said she was an emotionless person who didn’t even bother to look at when someone was being punished, not bothering to spare them her time. 

She was a menace, someone who didn’t deserve to be on the throne. But yet, here she was under his grip awaiting death to come to her without so much as a fight. She was hiding things behind her eyes that would be released come death. But Yoongi didn’t feel it in his heart to kill someone like that. Someone who was willing to give up their life for something haunting them.

He couldn’t stand to see others that way. Not when he had been there before. 

You felt the blade lose its pressure, opening your eyes to look at him once again. “What are you doing?” You asked.

“Are you questioning me when I have a knife to your neck?” He sneered, pressing the knife back to you.

“I thought you were going to—”

“Quiet.” He growled, slamming a fist into the pillow next to you. 

“Why aren't you calling for help?” He asked, moving to hover above you, his knife next to your head. 

“Who will be there to help me?” You whispered once more in that sad voice. 

“Your grace!” Someone called from outside of your bedroom. 

The man’s head snapped to the direction of the door, hearing the handles begin to twist to signal someone was going to come in. The assassin was quick to jump off the bed and out into the night without so much as a second in between. You rushed out of your bedspread, not caring about being in your nightgown. All you cared about was getting to stop the man. 

“Wait—”

You froze at the bottom of the steps that lead outside, catching as he turned around to face you under a lamp post. You could finally see his face in its entirety. The scar ran along his eye and down to his cheek. You were still as his face seemed to burn itself into your memory. You wanted to call out for him, ask him what he was doing. 

But there was something stopping you. The way he looked at you like he was torn. It was gone in a flash just as he was following the calling of your name from your bedroom. 

“(Y/N)?” You turned to find your personal guard looking around the room for you. “What are you doing outside?” He asked, walking up to you.

“Couldn't sleep.” You spoke softly. 

“What brings you by?” You asked the man, turning to face him. 

“I heard a man's voice. It was hostile.” He looked around the room just to make sure, moving things around that created dark spots.

“You have sharp hearing, Namjoon.” You smiled softly. 

“Nothing to worry about. Everything is fine.” You walked closer to him, causing him to look at you. 

You watched as his eyes went wide, hand reaching out to touch your neck. 

“You’re bleeding.” He wiped his thumb along the miniscule cut the man’s knife had left. 

You moved to wipe at it yourself, coming with bloody fingers. You furrowed your eyebrows, sighing to yourself. 

“I probably just scratched myself in my sleep.” You told him.

Namjoon was perceptive, but he wasn’t going to question it because he knew you. No matter how much he wanted to care for you when you got hurt, you were someone who kept to themselves. You weren’t going to allow others to know your pain. 

“I’ll clean it for you.” He said. 

You allowed the man to do as he pleased. You suddenly felt much too tired to allow yourself the time to clean up the wound. Besides, you always enjoyed your moments with Namjoon. He had been there since you became the so-called queen. He watched them put the crown on your head. Watched with a harsh breath and flare nostrils as he knew the truth behind it all. 

The only one who did. 

As you felt is large hands press softly into the skin of your neck you almost wanted to flinch at how easy it was for him to actually kill you. There will always be people out there much more skilled than you ever could be. Much more powerful. 

Tears welled in your eyes as you thought about it. You felt useless–like you life was miniscule. And it was in the eyes of your family. You didn’t realize a tear fell down your cheek until Namjoon moved to wipe at it. 

“Are you truly okay, my queen?”

Namjoon’s acknowledgment of your title had you squaring your shoulders, looking at the man with a small smile on your face. 

He was right. You were the queen–the one everyone called her majesty or bowed their heads to when you walked. It wasn’t your parents–your sister who walked with a smaller crown. It was you. Even if your family was the one who told you what to do in the end–you were the one who the kingdom saw as its queen. And you knew it was time to step into that role.

**

The time that passed was a long one. New bruises and wounds turned up on your body–hidden behind the hanbok you would wear. They would never dare to strike you across the face, not when the entire kingdom could see. They had images to keep up and people to boss around. It was their kingdom but you were the one they hated. 

You still walked with your head held high, nose turned up as you tried to remain emotionless. You had learned to perfect the look with all the eyes that followed you everywhere. You didn’t dare to showcase any kind of emotion. You knew if you did they would see it. And they didn’t want their subjects to know the queen was being ruled by fear. 

“Choosing a warrior for the princess is a perfect way of having her protected.” Your father’s general walked alongside the both of you. 

“Here are the fine gentlemen who decided to take up the mantle. It gives the common people a chance as well to be part of the royal court.” He explained looking over the men he had watched train to be the best warriors they could be. 

There were a total of 50 young and older men all standing in rows with hands behind their backs and legs spread to shoulder length. You didn’t bother to look at them because you knew that your family had already chosen you. 

“Thank you, general.” Your father smiled brightly. “We would only want the best for our daughter.”

He turned to you, the grin on his lips making your stomach turn as you tried not to sneer. Your eyes immediately dropped from his face, turning around as you finally began to scan the warriors who suddenly raised their heads at your discretion. 

“Your grace, please be sure to choose wisely. Munhee is your twin sister–she deserves to be protected just as much as you.” He offered in a sickenly sweet tone. 

“Of course, father.” You spoke monotonously. 

You begin to walk through the men, only picking you head up to give them a glance but continuing forward. You could see some of them gulp in worry while others let out breaths from your monotonous look. You were only courteous, meeting some of their eyes in order to make them think you were actually picking on your own. 

You continued on through the rows, trying your best to act like your parents had told you to. But there was a second–just one second–where your facade dropped and you came to stand still. He stood in another row, a bit shorter than those next to him. But he still kept a stoic face–facing forward in the position the general had them all stand. 

He was to the right of you, giving you the opportunity to see the long scar that ran down his face. There was a flutter in your heart that was created by anxiety. But it was fear, it was an anticipation that would lead you to win. 

No one noticed the way you stopped to stare or the way you started to breath harshly. Namjoon had been the only one, eyes moving to scan the crowd as he tried to find what made you stop. Your father continued forward with the general speaking to himself as he thought you were walking alongside him. 

“I hear that Sooyoung is quite the—”

“Him.” You interrupted your father. 

“What?” He stopped, turning around to quickly find who you were looking at. “Who?” 

You moved with calculated steps towards him, but he didn’t move from his position. 

“The one with the scar?” Your father spoke bewildered, glancing between you and the man. “But your grace, you can't possibly want—”

“I'm positive he is more than capable of taking care of Munhee.” You didn’t dare to move your eyes from the man. “He looks like he's been through tough battles.”

“Oh well, I don't remember seeing him during training much.” The general frowned as he squinted his eyes at the scar on the man’s cheek. 

“He does seem to have a memorable enough face.” The  general tsked but moved to turn away and back to the front of the rows of men. “Step forward boy!” 

With one last look at him, you turned to Namjoon who was following closely behind you. You watched him take in a breath, eyes scanning the man over as his eyebrows pulled together. Your face remained emotionless, turning around while lifting your nose up. You could see your father sneering as he began to follow behind you. 

“State your name.” The general asked once all of you made it to the front. 

“Agust.” He spoke deeply.

“What an odd name.” Your father waved off.

“Sounds western.” The general nodded to himself. 

“Are you positive this is the one you will choose your grace?” Your father spoke up. 

You could see the fury behind his eyes, the one that was clearly telling you to back out of the problem you had placed them all in. But you looked at him the same way you always would, not daring to move your head from his stare. You felt Namjoon grow closer to your back, his warmth seeping into your clothes. You moved your hand from under your sleeve–a silent request to tell him everything was okay. 

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate. 

“Very well. The ceremony shall take place later this afternoon.” The general spoke up, humming to himself as he began to gather the other men. 

Yoongi watched as you didn’t give your father another look, walking away quickly with both your father and guard on your heels. Your robe billowed behind you as you fast walked, but he was quick to notice the way your father rushed up to you and caught our arm before the doors to the palace shut behind you all. 

“(Y/N), what is the meaning of this?” Your father sneered, gripping onto your arm tightly. “We decided already who would be the royal guard.”

“I'm sorry—” You flinched, unnoticed by the way you spoke with no emotions. 

Your lips turned downwards, a sneer waiting to overtake your face at the way your father was clutching tightly onto your wrist–enough to know it would be bruised in a little bit. Your hands clenched up, nails wanting to scratch at his arm for hurting you. But it wasn’t the right time.

“We will talk later.” With one last tight squeeze your father threw your arm from his grasp. 

It made you jerk backwards, teeth clenched as you were quick to soothe the ache. 

“Are you alright?” Namjoon walked closer to you, fingers lightly falling down your arm to take a look.

“Yes, I'm fine Namjoon.” You spoke, your emotionless voice causing him to straighten up.

As your gaze landed back on the closed doors the only thing that crossed your mind was the scar along that man’s cheek. There was no mistaking that mark–it was one that seemed to alter your way of thinking all together. You were brought back to the night that he held the knife to your neck. Made you bleed and a small barely noticeable scar being left behind. 

Your hand went up to your neck, feeling the uneven skin under your fingertips. 

“Namjoon, would you protect me if someone was to come and assassinate me?” You suddenly spoke up, looking towards the doors that lead to the courtyard. 

“What kind of question is that?” The man gasped, looking at your incredulously. “Of course I would—with my life.”

“Why?” You said absent mindlessly. 

“Because I am your royal guard—”

“Did you know there are people trying to kill the queen?” You stopped him, turning to face him completely. 

He gulped, watching as you grew closer to him. “Isn't there always? But that won't stop me from protecting you.”

“It's a rebellion, isn't it? People wanting to kill me.” You quietly spoke, watching as his eyes scanned over your face before falling to your neck where he could see the scar. 

His breathing began to grow rapidly, as he tried to come up with an answer. “They don't want to kill you—”

“So you know about it?”

“(Y/N), I swear I know nothing about it—” He began to sputter. 

“Namjoon, you are the only person I can trust in this palace. The only one who knows the truth. And now I want you to be honest with me. As your queen, I demand you tell me the truth.” You demanded. 

He suddenly stood up straight, taking in a deep breath. “Yes, your grace. There is a rebellion that is out to kill the queen. But it's not you they are after, it's Munhee. At least the one they're really after is Munhee.” 

There was something that seemed to lift off your shoulder hearing those words. It didn’t make you feel any better however it did make you understand that there were plans that needed to be put into motion. Plans that you were going to accomplish with certain people on your side. 

“(Y/N), did something happen?” He asked.

“That man.” You spoke up. “The one I placed as Munhee’s guard. You know him. I saw it in your face when I chose him.” 

He watched as your nose twitched and your eyes went glassy. “Namjoon, are you part of the rebellion?” 

“Never!” Namjoon shouted, taking a step closer to you. “I could never do you harm or wish for something as cruel as that to come to you. You mean everything to me. I will stop at nothing to protect you from those who wish you harm.”

Your breath got caught in your throat for a moment at his confession. His eyes expressed just how much he meant every word. Namjoon was the one person who had been with you since you were a girl hiding in corners from the abuse you would suffer at the hands of your family. He has seen you at your worst. Which means you had to be better for him. 

“Then how do you know him?” You asked. 

“I don’t personally know him. I’ve only ever seen him around the kingdom a couple of times.” Namjoon licked his lips, answering truthfully. 

He paused for a moment, pressing his lips together. “However, there could be someone who might.”

**

The ceremony wasn’t anything spectacular. Only the army was present and those of the palace staff. After the general proclaimed his speech to those around, he handed you a sword which you took in a tight grip walking forward towards Agust who kneeled at the stop of the stairs. 

“It is an honor to serve the royal family. As royal guard to the princess you shall take up the mantle as her protector.” You prattled off. 

“You shall put your life before hers to guarantee her safety. Do you accept this position?” You spoke loudly, keeping your eyes downcasted on the man who was kneeling in front of you. 

“Yes.” He spoke up, keeping his face down to the ground. 

“I hereby name you a royal guard to princess Munhee. May your sword always be sharp and your will always stay strong.” You ended, making him rise to grip onto the sword you were handing over to him. 

As he reached out for the sword that laid on your palms, your sleeve had moved down your arm, giving him full view of the darkening bruises in the shape of fingers on your wrist. He watched your hand suddenly clench onto the blade of the sword catching his attention and making him look up into your eyes. 

Your face still remained emotionless, but you made a small movement to get him to take the sword. He was quick to take it, bowing his head once more as he began to sheath the blade. Your hands fell to your side, causing the sleeve to fall over your wrist once more. 

There wasn’t much left of the ceremony other than you giving an emotionless speech about how you were grateful to the army for what they did. Once everything ended on a normal tone, the royal family turned around to enter the palace with the new royal guard in tow behind the entire entourage. 

“I can't believe this is the man you appointed!” Munhee screeched. “How stupid can you be!? Haven't you already done enough!?” 

She had been stomping her feet in front of you but quickly turned around to strike you across the face. Your face whipped to the side, not expecting the hit but you didn’t dare to make a sound or move a hand up to cradle your wound.

Yoongi watched with an emotionless face as you seemed to keep up the facade. Your guard was quick to step up to you, getting between you and the so-called princess. Yoongi glared at all of you, eyebrows pulling together at the debacle. 

“You insolent girl. You deserve everything that is coming your way.” She sneered at you.

“Munhee!” The old king sneered. “Do not strike her face!? How many times have we told you!?”

His eyebrows only seemed to pull together deeper, trying to figure out what the whole dynamic was between everyone. It seemed you only remained emotionless as your large guard took your arm softly. 

He didn’t understand what your place was in all of this. You were the queen who was above all of these people. And yet they seemed to take pleasure in screaming at you. You didn’t give any reaction to their words or actions–allowing them to do as they pleased. You were no queen after the whole thing. 

“Namjoon, take her to the healers quickly before she bruises.” Your father turned to your royal guard. “They have to fix it before she goes out in public.”

“Of course.” Namjoon spoke through a clenched jaw, softly pulling you along. 

You didn’t give Yoongi another look, keeping your head up as pieces of your hair fell out of your headpiece and into your face. He watched you leave before turning around as he heard the princess stomp closer to him. 

“Ugly, good for nothing.” The princess sneered, quickly turning from him. “Don't look at me. Your face belongs in a cell.”

The way she had her lips pulled up and nose scrunched up made her look ugly. It seemed she had done that face so much it stuck to her skin. It was clear she was your twin somehow but for some reason Yoongi found himself claiming your face was much easier to look at. 

“Forgive me.” Yoongi spoke monotonously. 

“What do we do with him?” Munhee didn’t pay him any mind, turning to her parents. 

“We'll have Namjoon teach him for now.” The old queen spoke carelessly. “Until we have a reason to get rid of him we can't do much. That would mean forsaking the general and his warriors.”

“Stupid traditions.” Munhee rolled her eyes. “Fine, keep him out of my sight. And give him a mask for when he is. I cannot stand to look at him.” She gave him one last sneer of her lips, stomping away with her parents in tow. 

“Of course.” Some guard for your parents announced. 

He began to walk away, so Yoongi assumed he was to follow after his superior. He was taken out of the back gardens and into another part of the palace. There were curtains that were billowing out of the room that gave it enough breeze. The guard takes Yoongi around the building towards the doors. 

“You may stay here for the time being.” The guard explained, opening the doors to a wide spacious room. 

“I will be sure to inform Namjoon of your whereabouts.” He bowed his head before turning to leave.

Yoongi had assumed he was left alone, watching with a raised brow as the guard seemed to walk away quickly. However when he suddenly felt a presence behind him, he was quick to turn. He watched as a stunning man seemed to tilt his head in confusion at the man. 

He was dressed in a translucent robe that draped down his body. He wore expensive looking jewelry and was cleaned much better than even the royal family themselves. Yoongi could smell the perfumes the man wore from where he stood a good three feet away. 

“New concubine? But no one said anything about it.” He spoke with a deep voice, but his eyes held childish wonder. 

“Concubine?” Yoongi questioned.

“Are you not one?” The man asked, stepping closer to the scarred one. “Isn't that why they brought you here?”

“I was appointed as royal guard to the princess.” Yoongi immediately answered, keeping his stare on the handsome man. 

“Makes more sense.” The concubine nodded to himself, lips forming a perfect pout. “Princess Munhee would never choose you.”

Yoongi suddenly frowned, giving the man an offended look.

“Taehyung, don't be rude.” Someone behind Yoongi spoke up. 

He quickly turned around finding another man dressed the same as the one in front of him. However, this one seemed to have puffier cheeks and shorter in structure. He also carried himself more sensually–confident in what he looked like. 

“I still think you're very handsome.” He smiled softly at Yoongi. “My name is Jimin. This is Taehyung. We are concubines for Princess Munhee.”

Once more the assassin was left confused. Why weren’t they concubines for the queen herself? It wasn’t really known that the princess had some of her own. 

“The princess? Not the queen?” He spoke out loud.

“She doesn't have any.” Taehyung answered. 

“Well except for Jungkook but he's just for show. He says he's never been with her let alone her bedroom. He's still a lucky bastard though.  I wish I was (Y/N)'s concubine.” He pouted, crossing his arms in a childish manner. 

“You like the queen?” Yoongi asked baffled. 

“Like?” Taehyung tilted his head to the side. “I love her! She's so kind and patient. She always treats our wounds after we've been with Munhee. She gives us extra sweets when she comes to see us. Anyone would fall in love with her.” He sighed dreamily.

Yoongi couldn’t stand to hear all that was falling from the poor man’s mouth. He only saw someone who had been brainwashed into thinking the queen was someone kind and nurturing. It did leave him a bit baffled to remember that it was the queen who had been striked across the face by the princess but that didn’t mean her emotionless heart wasn’t real. It was clear by the way she didn't react to the way she was treated. 

“She is a tyrant. How can you stand to live here as concubines? You don't get to see your family and as you said, you get wounds from the princess—”

“Exactly. From the princess.” Jimin interrupted, coming to stand in front of Yoongi. 

Jimin looked at him with squinted eyes that made him look seductive. But his words made it seem like Jimin was waiting for Yoongi to figure everything out. “There are things within the palace that are not correct. You'll find that out soon enough.” He told the man vaguely. 

The door suddenly open and all three men turned to look at who had entered. Taehyung beamed at Namjoon who gave the two concubines a bow of his head. Jimin only gave the man a small smile twirling around to go back to whatever it was he was doing before Yoongi had entered. 

“Agust, please follow me.” Namjoon called for him.  

Yoongi gave the two concubines one last look before following after the larger man. He began to lead him back to the main building, Yoongi trying to memorize the journey. 

“My name is Kim Namjoon—you can call me Namjoon. I am the royal guard to queen (Y/N). We will be working together closely.” He explained. 

Yoongi paused for a moment, clenching his jaw as he thought about the woman. “The queen—what did they do?”

“They gave her a cold patch.”

He lead Yoongi to another section of the palace that seemed to be full of different kinds of staff. It was close to the rooms of the royal families so Yoongi only assumed it was the building he would be staying in. 

“This is where we stay. We share a room along with the other royal guards.” It was a quick thing before Namjoon took off once more from the guard quarters.  

As Yoongi was looking around, trying to find escape routes or hiding places he didn’t notice Namjoon had come to a stop causing him to bump into the man. 

“What are you doing here? Do you know the risks of getting caught? You should leave before something happens to both you and the queen.” Namjoon quickly spoke, causing Yoongi to look at him oddly. 

Namjoon had a stern expression on his face but he didn’t care to reach out to kill the smaller man. It was clear that Namjoon knew who Yoongi was the moment he came into the palace. Namjoon was someone often spoken about within the group. One of the people who worked within the palace had explained that Namjoon would do anything to protect the queen from harm. 

However he also said that Namjoon would be more than willing to be on their side. It left him at a confused headspace over the bigger man. 

“I know that more than anything what will happen. I have a mission to complete. I can’t go back without results.” Yoongi spoke harshly. 

“For what? A murder that is unjustified?” Namjoon glared. 

“You know as well as everyone else just how justified it really is.” Yoongi retorted.

“I know you’re out to kill the wrong person. If you think you were the only one thinking about infiltrating the palace, you would be wrong.” Namjoon has his arms crossed, trying to make himself look bigger to intimidate the scarred man. 

“Namjoon?” A soft voice spoke up behind them. 

“I’m here, your grace.” Namjoon turned around to face you, watching as you walked closer to them with smaller robes that were easier to walk in. 

“Hello. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” You spoke up calmly, staring Yoongi down. 

“Cut the small talk. Why did you choose me?” Yoongi sneered, knowing the three of you were alone from others to keep from saying what he wanted. 

Namjoon glared, about to take a step towards him but you subtly moved your hand out to keep him from getting closer. 

“Did you not want to be chosen? Isn’t that why you infiltrated the army and applied to be the personal guard for Princess Munhee?” You questioned him.

“Why did you select me?” Yoongi pressed again.

You took a moment, irking him as you looked down at him. 

“I don’t know.” You merely shrugged.

“I can kill you right now.” He placed a hand on the sword you had given him, causing Namjoon to reach for his own.

You stopped them though when you walked closer to Yoongi. “You can but it won’t solve your problems.”

“It will solve many.” He sneered. 

“That’s what you think.” You told him.

He felt something in his chest watching you. He knew it was you, knew by the little scar that was under your head from the knick his blade had left months ago. Knew by the way you softly stared at him waiting for his next moves.

However you were different now. Different in the way you spoke—the way you held yourself. It was nighttime then though, he has never seen you before. But speaking with you now it wasn’t the same as the woman who was awaiting death with open arms.

“Where is she?” Yoongi asked. 

“Who?”

“The girl who waited for me to move my blade. The one who was hoping I would.” He spoke quietly, keeping you stare.

“I found a better chance.” You told him, speaking in that voice that told him how there were worse things to fear other than death. 

“One that lets me live the way I want. My personal guard will make sure to tell you of your duties. Do not mess it up.” You added sternly.

You turned around, Namjoon giving Yoongi one last harsh stare before turning to follow after you.

** 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Namjoon asks you.

“I have suffered my whole life just for others to come and kill me in place of my sister.” You spoke softly looking down at the paper you had been writing on. “I’m done being the decoy they know they need. The plaything they would have their fun with when they were angry.”

You looked up when knocking comes from the door. “I was made the queen. And as far as the kingdom knows I am the Empress who rules. So that is what I will be.”

The double doors open wide as Yoongi struts his way in. Namjoon stands behind you with his hands clasped in front of him. He glanced your way, taking note of how you don’t bother to look up at him. From what the other concubines have claimed of you, Yoongi has yet to see it. 

“Sit.” You tell him, going back to writing a letter. 

He listens to your demand, sitting cross legged in front of your table as he waits for you to say something. It takes another 10 minutes before you do. By then Yoongi had a frown on his face from having wasted time sitting in front you, waiting.

“I have something to ask of you.” You told him.

When all you got was a raised brow, you continued. “I need you to take this to your leader.” You rolled up your letter and pushed it forward towards Yoongi.

“Leader?” He questioned.

“Don’t take me for a fool.” You clenched your jaw. “Someone sent you to kill me. And now I want to send them a letter.”

“Are you mad?” Yoongi scoffed.

“Not always.” You shrugged. “But you get tired after so much.” 

There it was again—the jab at your past. The jab in Yoongi’s chest that made him rethink about killing you. It was the suffering he heard in your voice. The one that didn’t care about what happened to them because they had already been through so much. 

“I don’t get it.” Yoongi told you. 

“Don’t get what?” You questioned.

“This!?” He says pointing to the letter you wanted him to send to his leader “Everything around the place. I came here knowing one thing but come to learn it’s not right.” 

“Information can get lost in translation.” You waved him off.

There was so much he didn’t understand. He hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with those in the group about the whole thing because he had been training with the army for the past couple of months. All he knew was that the queen was a tyrant who treated the people of her kingdom unfairly. 

But now he wanted to know if he was looking at the right person. 

“Tell me something.” Yoongi demanded.

“What is that?” You asked him.

“That a queen would allow someone beneath her to strike her.” He told you.

“What makes you think I’m not?” You asked him. 

“Not what?”

“Beneath them?” You take a deep breath thinking over something. “At least in their eyes.” 

This made him stop for moment. After witnessing the actions of her family Yoongi came to realize there were things wrong with the royal family. And after hearing the words of those who worked closely with them it was clear that the choice he made of sparing you was one that left his conscious free of guilt. 

“Are you trusting me?” He questioned you, realizing that you were about to tell him the truth.

“You’re going to find out sooner or later. In case you haven’t—I’m not the real queen. I’m only the one who takes the harsh blows of the tyranny my family causes. I’m just their scapegoat.” You explained. 

“If you do your job right there should be no consequences. You have my word.” You told him.

“Which job?” He questioned. 

“You should know which one, Min Yoongi.”

Pt. 2 Y’all? Be sure to apply to my permenant taglist so you can be added to Pt. 2 if I come out with it lol.

Permanent Taglist: @hecateslittlewitchling , @ldysmfrst , @cryingpages , @rln-byg , @vampcharxter , @kenzie203 , @loveless-lie , @puppyminnnie , @marvel-potter-1d-korea , @emtrades22 , @wolfgurl2600-blog ,

[dragon-kazansky]

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Next Chapter}

Chapter One - See you in my dreams

☆☆☆

1916 - 11 years old

Tonight was the night.

Tonight was the night your father was going to summon Death and try and bring your older brother back.

You were sitting in your room, on the edge of the bed, hands restlessly placed in your lap as you can hear the clock ticking away. You were nervous. Of course you were. This plan was crazy, but your father was crazy enough to go through with this.

Of course you missed your brother. He was better than you and Alex in every way, but he loved you both. Rodrick certainly loved him better than his other children. When he died, your father seemed to only hate you even more.

You could hear everyone bustling about the house. The book your father had been waiting for had arrived. Tonight he would attempt the impossible. At least, impossible by your standards.

No one could capture Death.

Death was inevitable and came for everyone. Even your brother. That was just the truth of it. There was not a spell in the world that could being him back.

You were not allowed to leave your room, despite the fact Alex, who was younger than you, was permitted to watch. It didn't seem fair. Even if you believed the matter to be impossible, why couldn't you witness the attempt?

At some point, the house grows quiet. You sit there with nothing but the sound of your soft breathing to keep you company. Your eyes focused on the door.

The silence was becoming deafening.

Had they done it?

You climb off your bed and open your door. At first, you don't see or hear anyone. The house seemed empty, but after a few more moments, you can hear voices and footsteps. You stand in the doorway of your bedroom and watch as many of your father's men go past talking too quickly for you to understand what they're saying.

You look down the hall and see your father walking to his study, a peculiar item in his hand. Alex comes into view and looks at you for a moment. You want to go over and ask what happened, but his name gets called and he hurries off.

A sense of something bad sets in your bones.

☆☆☆

You're in bed when you hear knocking on your door. It's quiet and hesitant, as if the other person wasn't supposed to be here. You climb out of bed and head to the door, opening it slightly. You see Alex standing there.

Alex comes into your room and closes the door behind him quickly. He looks at you with big eyes, worry embedded in them.

"What happened?" You ask him.

Alex walks over to your bed and takes a seat. He looks down at his slippers. "I think he did it."

"He did?" You look at Alex with wide eyes.

"Well... there's something down there..." Alex tells you, voice quiet. You swallow nervously.

Something.

"Death?"

Alex shakes his head. "No... I don't think so. I heard father talking to someone in his office, but I couldn't hear everything."

"What did you hear?" You ask, eager to know what had happened.

"Something about dreams."

"Dreams?" You had no idea what that meant.

Alex simply shrugged and looked up at you. "I'm afraid."

"Will it hurt us?"

"I don't know... I hope not. I didn't get to look at it for very long."

Silence fell between you both. You weren't sure what else to ask. All you knew was that your father had successfully caught something down in the basement, and you were too scared to even dig deeper.

Alex left your room, leaving you more questions than answers. However, for now, it felt better to leave it like that.

☆☆☆

1926 - 21 years old

Rodrick never mentioned the demon in his basement. You never asked about it, no matter how curious you got. You had heard the whispers. Everyone called it a demon, which frightened you even more.

You had done your utmost to forget about the thing in the basement. The stories were enough to put you off going down there. Even the people in town talked about Rodrick's demon.

He became something of a celebrity.

However, the world was suffering.

Dreams. Alex had told you Rodrick and his stranger in the office had spoken about dreams. As it turned out, some people could no longer sleep, some couldn't ever wake up. Dreams became a thing of tale, none existent.

Except for the ones you had been having.

You hadn't told anyone. Not even Alex. Your dreams were yours. Your secret. Your strange mysterious secret.

You dream of a man.

It's dark, but you can see him. He's sitting there, naked. He is expressionless. He never speaks. He just sits there with his legs up, arms around his knees, and staring forward.

You don't know his name.

Every night, you see him in your dreams. He seems to be trapped. Unable to go anywhere. You wonder if he's hungry and cold. He must be.

"Who are you?"

You always wake up right after that.

Every night, he's there in your dreams. It's strangely comforting. He's your secret. You just wish you knew who he was.

As you leave your room today, you see Alex leaving the office with a shotgun in hand. You frown as you look at him, catching a glimpse of your father in the office.

"What are you doing?" You ask him.

"I'm going to shoot a bird." Alex responds, though not so happily.

You stare at him hard. "A bird?"

"A raven," Alex says.

"Huh?"

"I'm off to kill his raven."

"Who's raven?"

Alex looked at you with an empty stare. He clutches the shotgun in his fist tight. Alex knew you had never seen the man in the basement. Rodrick had kept it that way. He had always said you were more trouble than you were worth.

"The thing in the basement."

Alex didn't say anything more as he left the house. You were confused by everything. Nothing made any sense to you.

You wanted to know what your father was keeping down there. Yet, fear consumed you. Was it dangerous?

Why did it have a raven? That confused the most.

It was half an hour later when you heard a gunshot. You had been in your room, staying out of the way as usual. The sound echoed through the house and scared you. You rushed to the door and looked down the hall. Alex and your father emerged from the basement. Alex looked lost.

You wanted to go over and ask what had happened, but Rodrick spots you watching and you retreat into your room.

☆☆☆

A few days go by where you don't see much of Rodrick or Alex. You do your best to avoid them as much as possible. Which was probably for the best as far as Rodrick was concerned.

Ethel, your father's mistress, was pregnant. He didn't want it. Of course he didn't.

Having so much time to yourself gave you time to think. Your dreams were consistent. Every night, you saw the naked man in his glass prison. Just sitting there, waiting.

Waiting for what? You did not know.

However, you wanted to help him. You wanted to understand him. You just didn't know who he was, or where he was.

That night, Ethel ran away. While you were tucked up in your bed sleeping, visiting your dream man, Ethel had run away with the tools, and some money from Rodrick's safe.

She was gone.

Rodrick was furious.

From what you heard, he tried to bargain with the being in the basement. When he got no response, Rodrick turned his anger to Alex. Had heard the yelling. You had wanted to go down there and see what was happening, but the guard at the door was stopping you.

That's when it happened.

Alex pushed Rodrick, and your father hit his head quite badly. He did not get up again.

The funeral was a week later.

☆☆☆

1931 - 25 years old

The house was too quiet these days. Alex spent most of his time avoiding you. You tried to occupy yourself with your hobbies, but there was a voice in the back of your head nagging at you.

The basement.

It was still guarded. Alex kept it that way. However, you knew times when the door wasn't guarded. There wasn't anyone there 24/7. Some of the guards like to slack off.

You had decided. You were going to go down there. After all this time, you wanted to know what your father had captured that day. You wanted to know the reason your father had been so successful and popular with people in town.

You wanted to know why things were the way they were.

You waited. The guard left as usual. He always disappeared for 15 minutes on his shifts. 30 if he thought he could get away with being away that long. This was your chance to get down there.

You were quiet as you moved down the hall. You weren't sure exactly where Alex was at this time of night. You needed to be careful. You double-checked to make sure no one was around and unlocked the door to the basement. You had been planning this for weeks. You knew the codes and the schedules for the guards. You knew someone else would normally be down there, but never at this time of night. That's why the guard thought he could get away with disappearing for so long.

You looked down the dark stairs and took a moment before going through with your plan. Finally, you would see what was down there.

You descend the stairs.

It was dark. Lighting was kept to a minimum, it seemed. You were careful as you took each step and soon enough found yourself at the bottom.

What you saw was not what you expected.

You slowly reach out and open the gate, taking in the sight before you. A large glass globe surrounded by the summoning circle your father had made years ago. Inside the globe was a man.

A man.

A very familiar man.

You feel like all air from your lungs is stolen from you as you stare at him. Your dream man. There he was! Naked and curled up by himself inside his prison.

All this time, you were dreaming of the man in the basement. You find yourself stepping a little closer, not sure what to do. Nothing made sense. This was impossible. How can you be dreaming about this man? And why is he trapped like this?

Who is he?

Sensing your presence, he looks up. In those next few seconds, several things happen. Your eyes connect with his, and you find yourself lost in them. A searing pain crosses your wrist, and you gasp loudly, cradling your hand. You drop your gaze from him to look at the red scar on your wrist. When you look back up, he's cradling his own hand but doesn't seem to be in pain like you.

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

"Who are you?" You ask.

The man in the globe moves slowly, leaning forward slightly. He's keeping himself covered, but he's still moving toward the glass. With one hand, he reaches out, hand dressed against the glass of his prison.

You feel strange. At ease. It was like he was trying to calm you from within his prison.

"Who are you?" You ask again.

You watch as he part his lips, prepared to speak, but a voice behind you speaks instead, leaving you in shock and embarrassment for getting caught in the basement.

"What are you doing down here?" Alex asks.

You frown. "I came to see what was down here! You can't keep me in the dark forever."

Alex pulls you behind him as he looks at the man in the cage. "You have to stay away from him."

"Alex--"

"No! He's dangerous. I think..."

You push past Alex and stand between him and the other man. You glare at your brother. Alex looks at you with mixed confused and disappointment.

"Who is he? What is he?"

Alex says your name.

"No! Tell me. What is all this? What did father do?"

Alex clenches his fist at his side and takes a deep breath. "You need to leave. Get out of here."

"Why is there a man trapped in the basement, Alex?"

Alex loses his patience with you and lunges forward, grabbing your arm tightly. You try to fight him off, but he wraps both his arms around you, restraining your arms.

"Alex! Let go of me!"

"You shouldn't have come down here," he says angrily.

From within his prison, Morpheus stands. He doesn't like what he's seeing. You. You had been living in this house all along, and he had no idea. Now you were here, you had come to see him, and you were being dragged out again.

Alex called for help, and two people came running. Paul and the guard should have been on duty. Morpheus leans against the glass with both hands as he watches Alex demand you get removed from the basement. The two men take hold of you and start dragging you back upstairs, all the while you're ahouing at Alex.

Alex turns and looks at him.

"Don't you ever speak to her. Don't you ever do anything to her." Alex demands. "She was never supposed to see you..."

Alex leaves.

Morpheus sinks back down in his prison and curls up again. His hands ball into fists as he stares ahead of him.

His soulmate had been here all along.

He needed to get out.

He needed to save you from this house.

He turns his hand over and looks at his wrist. A small scar in the shape of a star. He had had it forever. He ran his thumb over it. He knew from the moment he looked at you, from the moment you received your scar, that you were his soulmate.

It was unheard of for an Endless to have such a thing, but Dream had always been unique. If anyone wasn't going to be granted a partner for eternity, it was going to be him.

Not that he was actively looking. Morpheus had had lovers before, certainly, but knowing you're right there above him, it changes things.

You were real.

They only let go of you once you're in your room. Alex closes the door on you and you hear him lock you in. You bang against the door furiously and then stop, sobbing as you sink to the floor.

None of this was making any sense to you.

Did Alex know something?

Who was that man?

And why did your wrist still burn?

☆☆☆

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