#angst royalty network

[irisintheafterglow]

HAND ONE - HIGH CARD

summary: in a season where you're determined to fly under the radar, newly-returned crown prince!touya todoroki has other ideas. in this hand, a duel is fought.

wc: 1.7k

cw/tags: royalty!au/regency!au, fem!reader, first meeting, touya's sass need its own warning

note: SURPRISE !! bet iris starting another series wasn't on your 2024 bingo (it wasn't on mine) but here we are! this whole series is based on this little idea from a few months back and will include swordfighting! fake dating! mutual pining! angst! balls! (the royal kind, not,,, yk) oh and many poker metaphors lol. hope you enjoy this first little exposition chapter :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are greatly appreciated <3

You would admire the spectacle of it all, had it not been for the aching pain in your feet. 

The hand-me-down heels from your estranged stepmother made it hard to focus on anything but your breathing as you tried to steady yourself against a nearby column in the palace garden. You could practically hear her shrill screaming in your ears for not doing enough to network among the other young nobles, for failing to present yourself as fit for bearing children you didn’t want. As the people you’d grown up with since birth milled about carefully-tended roses and large-bloomed peonies, you couldn’t imagine how they weren’t sweating all their caked-on makeup off in the stifling June heat. Fishing the lacy hand fan from your clutch, you relocate to a shadier side of the column under the stone walkway lining the garden. An aggressive snap echoes off nearby walls when you flick it open and sigh when the air hits your face. 

“You stole my spot,” comes a smooth male voice from the other side of the column. You don’t think the person is talking to you, but then you hear an amused snicker and a small thank you to who you assume is a passing servant. It’s awkwardly silent except for faraway conversations and the breeze blown from your fan until the man clears his throat. “I’m holding out a water to you, if you would kindly look over your shoulder.” Slightly irritated by the condescending tone in his voice, you look and, sure enough, there was a cold glass of water in the stranger’s white-gloved hand. You couldn’t see his face, nor the rest of his body, but something in your gut told you that it was safe. And, if it did happen to be poisoned, at least it got you out of another season. Carefully taking the glass from his long fingers, most of the tension in your body leaves after the first few sips slide down your throat. “Refreshing?”

“Very,” you answer cordially, in that airy tone your stepmother taught you. She said it was a fine way to attract suitors, which made you want to drop your voice several octaves whenever a potential husband drew near. “Thank you. That was very kind of you, Mister…?”

“My identity is irrelevant,” he says quickly and you turn your head in his direction, as if to hear him better. “Nor will I ask of yours, so consider this conversation akin to speaking to a wall.”

“From my perspective, I am speaking to a wall,” you point out and the stranger chuckles under his breath. “May I ask why you aren’t socializing with the others?”

“I could ask the same of you, considering that you’re cowering behind a column.” The jab was evident. Your mouth drops in indignancy and, had it not been for heat exhaustion and your nice spot in the shade, you would have decked whoever was on the other side of this conversation. 

“I am not cowering,” you huff, taking another sip and willing the temperature to decrease just a few degrees. “I am merely…taking a break.”

“Taking a break where no one else can find you? For ten minutes?”

“A woman values her privacy,” you argue. “And as far as I’m aware, you were able to find me quite easily. Perhaps you were the one trying to hide, and I was the one who stole your spot.”

“So, you do acknowledge that you are stealing from me.”

“Space in this garden is not something to be claimed unless you are of the royal family, dear stranger.” You hope he can hear the smirk in your tone. 

“And yet, here you are, stealing what is rightfully mine.” 

“And yet, here you are, stealing what is rightfully mine,” you echo in a nasally, mocking voice that would have placed you in major trouble if your parents knew how you were addressing others. “Cease your bratty ramblings as if you own this palace.” The man barks out a laugh, a reaction you didn’t anticipate. It makes your heart race a little faster, in spite of your will to stay casual. 

“Have suitors ever told you that you’re quite the firecracker?”

“Bold of you to assume they get as far as to speak with me,” you correct without hesitation. Presentations were one of the stupidest parts of your present society, along with those tiny sandwiches and that tea that tastes like boiled shoes. “If they decide to pursue me, that’s their first mistake.” The stranger hums in a low tone. 

“Maybe you haven’t found the right suitor, then,” he muses and, before you can answer, the royal bugles announce the beginning of the duels. Excited cheers and the clicking sound of heels on pavement take over any remaining conversations. You whirl around to the other side of the column, anxious to see the mysterious man you were conversing with, but find the other side as vacant as when you first passed it. Slightly disappointed, you find your place along the perimeter of the circular stone courtyard and wait for the king’s advisor to speak. 

“Today is a day of celebration,” he begins, and you mutter the rest of his speech that you’d heard for the past four years under your breath. The hair stands up on the back of your neck and instinct tells you that someone was watching you, but you can’t find who it is among the hundreds of people present. You think you’ve found the culprit when you lock your gaze with a pair of strikingly blue eyes, but they disappear before you can identify the rest of the person. “And, as you are most likely already aware, this year we welcome His Highness Prince Touya Todoroki to the presentation ceremonies. Though he is of a royal family, those that wish to court or be courted by His Highness may present themselves as suitors as they ordinarily would.”

“And will the Prince grace us with his esteemed presence, or is he preoccupied with his ordinarily outlandish activities?” Sneers and snide remarks ripple through the crowd and the advisor struggles to regain their attention. That is, until that same loud barking laugh that you heard from the other side of the column cuts through the murmurs and mutters.

The voice that follows makes your blood run cold in your veins. 

“How bold to assume any of you are worthy of breathing in my presence.” 

“Your Highness–” 

“Shut up,” he spits, shivers spreading over your skin as the crowd splits to reveal an unruly mass of spiked white hair. His eyes are paralyzingly bright, cold and narrow while they scan the vermin before him. The rumors that circulated of his intimidating nature paled in comparison to the man before you, tall and lean and radiating the most dangerous aura you’d ever come across. All the previously gloating eyes became that of rabbits hunted by a wolf when they came under his gaze…except for yours. By some odd stroke of Fate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d seen the Prince before, even though that was physically impossible. Maybe you’d passed another white-haired asshole in the market. “Well? Are we starting or shall you keep gawking until I staple your jaw shut?” The advisor stumbles, shrinking away like a mouse in a lion’s den. 

“Yes, Your Highness. May the first Lady to be courted please step forward!”

As the gowns start to swoop and the swords begin to swing, you’re again reminded of just how unnecessary the spectacle of presentation season always was. One by one, daughters of nobility presented themselves to the suitors, who would then step forward and duel one another for the opportunity to court the Lady. The fights were never to the death, of course, but the shame that came with losing more than one duel was close to it; nothing was more embarrassing, however, than having no suitors step forward when a Lady presented herself. It was your worst fear every season, one that you seemingly didn’t need to worry about this time around.

Still, you were met with the same pasty-faced suitor that had been attempting to win your hand for the past several seasons. He’d accumulated significantly more muscle mass since the previous season, but his hot-headed temper and objectifying tendencies were enough of a turn off to send him packing by the end of the first meeting. 

“You have rejected me time and time again, but that only makes you more enticing,” he declares, offering his hand to you while you roll your eyes behind your fan. Ladies who already received their matches swoon at his show of masculinity, but it only makes your stomach turn. “I will win you. That is my promise. And, if not this season, then the next, and I will persevere until the only eyes you look for in a room are mine.” 

“The only thing I would be looking for in a room with you is an exit,” you mutter. He doesn’t answer, eyeing you like you were a wise investment. Gross. 

“You’d do well to accept me.” Your attention darts upward and you meet his stare, irritated at your lack of a response. The volume of his voice drops so that only you two can hear it as he comes to stand inches away from your face. “It’s not like you have the privilege of other options. Marry me or life as a spinster is your only future.” 

“I wouldn’t marry you if the entire kingdom was at stake,” you hiss and his mouth turns up in a snarl, ready to bite out a response when the shing! of a sword being pulled from its sheath echoes through the courtyard. A quiet verbal commotion sets into the crowd, but you’re unable to see anything beyond the asshole before you. 

"Your business is with me, not her," warns a dangerously familiar voice and the man in front of you stiffens. "Let's get this over with."

“The…ahem…duel will begin once both suitors are in first positions,” the advisor relays with great hesitation. You’d never experienced a duel for your hand, yet it seemed that another man had been dealt into the game. With his face drained of its remaining color, Pasty-face draws his blade like an inexperienced marionette, clunky and jagged, as he takes his place in the circle, allowing you to catch the eye of his opponent, molten blue eyes that make your knees turn gelatinous. The prince was dueling for your hand. 

Prince Touya of the Todoroki family was dueling for your hand. 

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[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hi Whimsy🖤

I'm new here and this is my first ask so I'm sorry if I haven't done this right. If you're comfortable with it and are able to can I get a Prince Nuada x chubby f!reader enemies to lovers anything (with nsfw if you're fine with that).

You have full reign over the direction and themes of this, anything is appreciated!

Thank you for your time🌻

Hello! Now this is something that actually deserves a full multi-part fic, so I thought of coming up with a detailed outline for the moment. I hope you like it!

“A prince’s regard”

Pairing: Prince Nuada x chubby F! reader (Human | Second person POV)

Themes: Enemies to lovers | Soft | NSFW

Warnings : Angst-ish | Mentions of wounds | Mention of character death (Nuada’s mother) | Nuada being a bit of a jerk in the beginning | Insecurities | Nuada gets a little handsy at the end, but in a cute way.

Wordcount: 2.2k words

Summary: As part of a greater plan to encourage peace and understanding between humans and elves, a lottery is held for elves and humans to live amongst each other. You’re one of them, and the elf you are paired off with during the lotter is none other than Nuada himself.

A/n: If anyone wants to make use of these I say go for it, but please tag me if you do.

Minors DNI | 🔞 | You are responsible for the media you consume

🍃As part of a peace treaty with mortals, King Balor proposed an exchange of culture and knowledge between the two former warring races. Selected humans would live amongst the elves as attendants, handmaidens, stewards, and students, and elves would do the same with humans.

🍃A lottery is organized and monitored by the BPRD to stop parties with vested interests from meddling and upsetting the delicate balance of such a hard-won peace. Offices spread all over the world turn into lottery centers, and any elf or mortal wishing to add their name to the list is encouraged to do so.

🍃The numbers may not have been record-breaking, but enough elves and humans registered all the same. Your name was one of them. You did it on a dare, and with your friends, thinking nothing would ever come out of it.

🍃When the announcements start, you join the others in front of the TV, listening to names being called out, along with the names of families and individuals they would be paired with. Your name was not called on the first day. It was not called on the second or third day either. It was disappointing, to be sure, but you made peace with it. The days passed, with more and more names being announced. Then, after a fortnight had passed, you listened, dumbfounded, while your own name was announced to the world in crisp words. You were even more astounded when you found that you were being paired off with none other than the crown prince of Bethmoora himself.

🍃Your friends take you shopping as you would be moving into a series of abandoned railway tunnels he had converted into a luxurious palace. No one has seen the inside of it except for his father and sister, and the handful of attendants that served him.

🍃You’re nervous. Not just because you would be living with elven royalty, but also because Nuada is well known for hating humans.

🍃The prince was cold and aloof when you walked in through thick wooden doors full of strange symbols carved into them. “For protection,” Princess Nuala said, “against any evil that tries to make its way inside.”

🍃She was exceedingly warm where her twin is not, asking dozens of questions about your life, your friends, your family, everything. Nuala helped you settle into your new rooms and then showed you around the vast network of tunnels and chambers her brother called home. Everything was dimly lit, because that was how he liked it. There were sculptures and priceless works of art everywhere, hundreds upon hundreds of candles, thick, plush carpets, and the library was unlike anything you had ever seen.

“Do not touch anything.” He hissed, startling you. Nuada had walked up to you without making a sound. It was more than a little unnerving that he could do such a thing. “These treasures are priceless, and I will not see them sullied by mortal hands such as yours.”

Nuala apologized profusely. “Some of the sculptures you see here belonged to our mother,” she went on to explain after he disappeared down another corridor. “And my brother is quite attached to them.”

She did not say more on the matter, and she took you to her own rooms and hosted you to a light supper. At least, that was what she called it. An elaborate meal had been laid out in the dining room of her apartment. During dinner, Nuala informed she had to return to the BPRD, as her true home was there, with Abe. She would visit from time to time, but her place was elsewhere. Your heart sank, for it meant you would have to be alone with Nuada.

“Do not fret,” she urged. “My brother has a good heart; it is just that he guards it so fiercely. Give him time, y/n. He will come around. Mr. Wink will be here as well, so you will not want for company.”

“That’s comforting,” you tell yourself. Mr. Wink was large and imposing and spoke in a language you did not understand, and his loyalty would always belong to Nuada. Still, you made peace with Nuala’s leaving, and enjoyed the rest of your dinner.

🍃During the course of the subsequent days and weeks, Nuada would go out of his way to avoid you. He dined by himself, trained by himself, and kept to his own chambers when he was not needed elsewhere. If, by chance, you did run into him, he would respond with a curt grunt before walking away. If you came upon him training, he would order you to leave him in peace. Sometimes, not always, but sometimes, he would walk out of a room if you walked into it. It stung. What made it worse was knowing your stay had to last a full year before a change in placement could be requested. And that made you wretched, because the end of that year was still a long way off. Resentment took root, and you slowly began to loathe the prince for making living with him so hard.

🍃Mr. Wink, on the other hand, was surprisingly nicer, allowing you to join him while he used the mechanical toys that kept him entertained, watching TV with you, and even letting you read to him once in a while. He went so far as to ask through Nuala for you to help him learn your language.

It was a trial. Truly, it was a trial. Mr. Wink was a creature of fixed habits, and modern languages were strange to his ears. Once, he nearly flipped over a table in frustration. You had to keep to your sofa and hide your giggles while he ranted and raved and declared, through Nuala during her next visit, that human languages were languages born from the pits of hell.

“They may be languages from the pits of hell,” you tell him, “but you still need to learn. Come on. You can do this.”

The lessons continued. And Nuada’s avoidance of you continued as well. 

🍃“Why do you always avoid me?” You finally mustered your courage and confronted him after breakfast. “I know you are not all that happy about it, but do you have to go out of your way to make me feel unwelcome?”

“Because you are mortal,” he rasped sharply. “That alone is enough. Now leave me. I have better things to do with my time.”

🍃And so it continued, until one dark November night, when an injured Mr. Wink brought him home, covered in wounds. A raid had gone wrong, you were told. Hellboy had taken it into his head to charge straight into a hive of tooth fairies, the largest that had been found in North America. Many in the team were injured, and Nuada was one of those who were worse off. Doctors from the Bureau came over and did the best they could. You had to see to his care after they left, as Nuala could not leave the BPRD. She too had suffered the same harm, even though she never left the facility.

For several days, Nuada slipped in and out of consciousness. You wanted to let him struggle out of spite, but seeing him helpless and weak convinced you to do otherwise. You changed his dressing, gave him bed baths to clean him up, and even changed his clothes. You avoided looking at the scars that marred an otherwise near-perfect body. It would be rude to do so, you tell yourself. He would not like being gawked at.

You brushed his hair and then read to him before making yourself comfortable on a nearby pillowed bench that served as your bed. Sometimes, you would find him looking at you with a strange expression in his eyes while you went about looking after him. You didn’t know what to make of it.

🍃“You must eat something, my prince,” you insisted one evening, holding a spoonful of soup to his mouth. “Just a spoonful. Please.”

Nuada’s appetite had deserted him, and you had to feed him his meals. He fussed and grumbled and muttered choice words in the language of his people, but he would yield to your entreaties in the end and make himself eat. It started with a spoonful, and then another, and another. Finally, when he was strong enough, he could eat properly.

🍃Then he started to talk. It’s about the little things at first: the meal before him, his sister’s wellbeing, and your lessons with Mr. Wink.

“He speaks very highly of you,” he confessed, much to your surprise. “He says you treat him with respect.”

“Do other elves treat him with respect?”

“No,” he replied. "Trolls are seen as, how do you mortals put it?" Nuada searched for the right word. "Oh yes. As the knuckledraggers of my world. Mr. Wink is a remnant of a more primitive age and, therefore, unworthy of true respect in the eyes of many. Besides my sister and myself, you are the only one who is openly kind to him."

"You are kind to him, and yet you treat me with scorn," you sighed. 

The prince said nothing. He grew quiet and thoughtful. You take it as a sign to clear his tray and leave.

🍃Life with him became easier after that. While he rested, Nuada spoke of all the things he had seen and all the wondrous creatures he had met. You listened to his tales with rapt attention, for few mortals knew of such things. Finally, he opened up about his hatred for humans and why he allowed it to fester in his heart for so long.

“They killed my mother,” he spat. “When father left for war, mother traveled with him. She would stay at camp while he took off for the battlefield. He thought he had no cause for worry, for it was an unwritten rule, you see, for a military camp to be left untouched even during the height of fighting. There could be women and children present. Humans did not care for that. As soon as father’s warriors were out of sight, they attacked the camp. My mother… let us just say she did not survive.”

You did not know what to say, except for "I'm sorry.” Nuada smiled sadly and patted your hand.

“Tis not your fault,” he countered. “And it is I who should be apologizing." Nuada paused, and hesitated. "You have been nothing but considerate of my wishes the entire time, and you went out of your way to take care of me even after how I behaved in the beginning. I am ashamed of myself and must beg for your forgiveness.”

🍃Forgiveness would take a while, but Nuada did all that he could to make amends. He even invited you to accompany him to a great feast as his honored guest. That gave you pause, for while Nuada was lithe and graceful and everything a mighty warrior ought to be, you thought yourself to be the opposite of it all and told him so.

“Everyone would compare me to the other ladies,” you agonized after changing into yet another gown, one that was so soft it felt like you were clothed in nothing but air. “I cannot go looking like this.”

“No one will compare you to others,” he insisted. Nuada came into your rooms after wondering what was taking you so long. “They would not dare do so. Besides, there is nothing to give you cause for concern. Like your hair, for example. It looks beautiful the way you have arranged it.”

A flash of heat crept up your throat. No one had complimented you like this before. “It is?”

“Indeed.” Nuada came closer. “And that dress. How artfully it clings to your body. You have made a wise choice with your garments, y/n.”

“Oh.” Now your cheeks were aflame. “You’re not lying? You really like how I look?

“As my sister would tell you, lying is not something I excel at.” He grew bolder, and brushed his hand over your hip, your waist. “Soft,” he murmured. “Even softer than your dress.”

His touch was electrifying. And he was right. Lying was not something he was skilled at. You saw it with your own eyes—how he could not even pretend to be gracious in the beginning. You flushed and looked away, unsure of what to do or say. Nuada reached over and lifted your chin, making you meet his gaze.

“Did I go too far?” He murmured softly.

“No,” you mumbled. “I… I just didn’t expect such attention from someone like you. You are the crown prince. You’re dashing and skilled, and you're the greatest warrior among your people. And I… I am me.”

He went quiet for a while, as if he were thinking. “Then give me the chance to show you how you are so much more than what you believe yourself to be,” he proposed. “Can you do that, y/n? Give me such a chance?”

He was holding out his hand, his eyes bright and determined. But there was something else in those vivid golden-yellow eyes of his. Something more than determination. It tugged at you and drew you in.

He is trying, you think to yourself. He is really trying. And would it be awful to be at the receiving end of his affections?

You decided it would not be so awful after all and placed your hand in his.

tags: @nupppuff @thepjofanqueen

[thelargefrye]

SWEET SORROW OF EVIL … series

PROLOGUE : DARK TÁLSYN | M.LIST

pairing : ateez x evil queen!f!reader

genre : mature, fantasy au, royalty au, angst, eventually poly relationship, dark

word count : 2k

warnings : language, murder (like a lot), blood / body gore

note : a collab series with the great @sanjoongie !! thank you so much for wanting to do this with me, it means a lot! let us know what you think!

network : @cultofdionysusnet

if you are not careful the dark tálsýn will take you from your home where you will never be seen again. she goes through the night stealing children who misbehave and eats them to stay powerful.

The eerie quiet of the woods was unnerving; not a bird chirping nor a squirrel angrily protesting the invaders. Mingi continued to guide his horse beside his father.

"Where are those damn scouts?" His father muttered under his breath, eyes alert, scanning the foliage.

"Father…" Mingi couldn't explain it but his gut clenched in worry. He knew his father would simply dismiss his feelings, since this was his first large-scale battle, but Mingi had to say something.

"Hush," Mingi's father cut him off. "I see something up ahead."

"Perhaps the scouts got ambitious," The King's guard grinned roguishly, turning around on his horse to speak to Mingi, "Eager for battle too, are you, Princeling?"

Mingi opened his mouth to reply but another guard held up his hand for caution. "Your Majesty, there's been a skirmish of sorts--" 

A guard ahead gagged and then another bolted off his horse to throw up in the bushes. The same guard that teased Mingi clucked his tongue in disappointment. "Green behind the ears still, I bet."

But when even the king paled at the scene before them in the opening, Mingi knew his gut had not been lying to him earlier. 

Something was terribly wrong with this entire situation, yet Mingi could not figure out why. Only that his gut was now telling him to run. 

“My gods, what happened here?” Another soldier had spoken up once they drew closer to the battle. 

Mingi began to recognize the colors on the bodies. Those weren't bodies from the opposition-- they were their own soldiers. And upon closer inspection, the deaths were gruesome. Mingi watched in shock as his horse stepped on an eyeball and--

A figure suddenly appeared in the middle of the opening in the forest. Mingi couldn't tell if it was male or female at first, their hood of their cloak hid their features, but they seemed to flash in and out of existence until they were suddenly in front of Mingi's father.

"Good tidings to the King of Soleil Eternel." A melodious voice said and Mingi's father stiffened. "How--?" 

"Sire!" A guard pulled his spear back to throw at the figure by his king but suddenly his face went slack, almost like the man was daydreaming.

The only two people that seemed to be conscious of what was going on was Mingi and the King. The guards all around them whimpered and twitched, as if they were trapped in a nightmare. 

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice a cockroach in my kitchen?" Mingi caught a glimpse of a pink, bow-shaped mouth pulled into a smirk. "I killed my whole family to rule, did I not? What makes you think you're safe?"

"Father…?" Mingi was frozen himself but it was purely out of his own sheer terror and unsureness.

The King stared at Mingi, and opened his mouth to address the hooded figure but was cut short due to the hooded figure's hand in his chest. A short jerk of their hand had it out of the king's chest but had acquired a new object. Mingi had a brief thought that he had never seen a heart outside of a human's chest before and then he screamed in injustice.

The hooded figure turned and Mingi had a momentary view of her face--because who else would have the terrifying power to be able to pull a heart from a grown man's chest than the new queen?--and then she was gone in a gentle sweep of red smoke.

Only the true horror began as his father's men slowly began to bear arms against each other. It was like they were puppets being pulled by some grand puppetmasters' strings, forced to kill each other without even realizing their purpose. Mingi had to watch in horror as the men whom he had trained with, grown up with, joked with, took spears to their bellies and swords removing heads. 

Mingi wasn’t sure why he wasn’t targeted but he took the advantage to run to his father’s body and catch it before it fell from his horse. His father rasped only two words before passing from this world…

Kill…

“...her.”

Hongjoong placed a hand on Mingi’s shoulder, gently pulling him from his reverie. “Right, Mingi?”

Yunho, Yeosang and Wooyoung stared at Mingi expectantly. Mingi had been lost in his memories when you had been brought up. He shook his head of the nightmare that haunted him for all of his days and stood a little straight. “I can identify her, it’s true.”

Wooyoung shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe she left a survivor.”

Yunho was stoic but his own warrior background gave voice to reason. “You don’t have a story to tell if you don’t have a survivor.”

Yeosang took a large gulp from his wine-filled chalice. “Vicious.”

"If you think that's vicious, wait until you hear what she did to her family," Mingi muttered under his breath.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow to Yunho. "You want to tell it or should I?"

Yunho shook his head. "I know it like the back of my hand." 

Everyone settled into their chairs at the gathering of countries, passing the bottles of liquor and fine food amongst them, preparing for a tale they may or may not have heard, passed from mouth to ear, growing and evolving into a fairy tale told to children who misbehaved.

"It all started one evening, when the moon was high in the sky, blood-red and full…"

The king and his wife had been sitting in the throne room when his two oldest children had bursted through the doors. The princess was clutching her shoulder as if she was in pain and the prince was limping as they both ran into the room. 

The queen immediately on guard and worried about her children, stood up and rushed over to the prince and princess with the king following close behind his wife. 

“My children, what happened to you?” the queen was borderline hysterical as the longer she looked at her children, the more and more injuries that stood out to her. Blood ran all over them, staining both their skin and clothes. 

The king couldn’t help but feel his blood run cold as he took  in the state of his children as well. 

“I-It was– 

“It was Y/N! She did this to us!” the princess cut her brother off, she was just as hysteric as her mother, if not more. Her breathing was heavy and deep as if she was attempting to calm her nerves; however, it wasn’t working. 

Tears started streaming down the princess’s face as her mother brought her into her arms. Quiet sobs leaving the princess as the king turned to his son in order to question him about what happened.

“What happened?” the king asked, voice full of seriousness. 

The prince looked panicked as his eyes darted around and the king noted how beaty they were and the sweat that poured down his face. The prince licked his lips, blinking rapidly and the king was starting to lose his patience with his son. 

“It was Y/N, she– she attacked us, father. Completely unprompted! We think she’s gone mad or something,” the prince said and both the king and queen could tell just how short of breath he was. 

The king was about to say something, his mouth opening wide before the doors to the throne room were thrown open. The four members of the royal family turned their heads towards the sudden motion and watched as a guard stumbled in much like how the siblings did not too long ago. 

The guard is clearly more wounded than the prince and princess; however the largest difference between the guard and the siblings was the sword lodged through the guard's chest. He fell gasping to the floor, reaching out as if one of the royals would save him. But everyone was frozen in fear and shock at the sight and could only watch as the guard fell to the floor, lifeless. 

Their attention was soon drawn to the figure that soon appeared above the guard. Looming like some otherworldly figure that didn’t belong here in the world of the living. Didn’t belong in the throne room. 

“Y/N! What is the meaning of all of this?” the king questioned his youngest child as the queen and her children were forced to watch you remove the sword from the dead guard. The king could feel his anger rise the longer you went without answering him. “Speak now, child, or face the consequences!” he threatened; however, you could only laugh at your father, surprising the other three including himself. 

“Isn’t it obvious what I’m doing?” you asked, your laughing never seeming to cease as you drew closer to your family. 

“Stay away, you– you monster!” the king shouted as his wife and children seemingly cowarded before you. 

You let out another laugh before letting out a simple, “No.”

The doors to the throne room slammed shut; however, the screams layering overtop of each other echoed throughout the castle. Guards, now suddenly alert of the screams, came rushing as they shoved open the heavy wooden doors. The sight they were greeted made some of the guards gasp in horror, while others had to turn their heads in fear or to vomit at the sight. 

The throne room was covered in blood which was everywhere. On the walls, the windows, the thrones which usually sat the king and queen. In the middle of the room stood the youngest child of the now dead king. His body laying on the floor, head gone and blood seeping out of it. His wife was also laying in her own blood, eyes missing from her sockets as she was slumped over her son’s body who was equally as dismembered. However, the only body they couldn’t find was the eldest princess. Her body seemingly vanished, yet the guards in the room could piece whose blood was covering the walls and you. 

You stood over your father’s body, a frown painting your lips as you turned to look at the guards who were frozen in fear. 

“From now on, you serve me,” Yunho says with a straight face as if to mimic the face you had when murdering your entire family. Everyone else in the room was engulfed in fear at the story, except for Mingi who was still reliving his own nightmare of you murdering his father and men. 

“I-is that really true? Did she really kill them in cold blood? Her own family?” Wooyoung asked, still shocked about the story that Yunho just told. 

“She’s a fucking monster, cursed to turn into one and everything,” Hongjoong says with an almost irritated expression on his face at just the thought of the ruler of Illimité. 

Everyone in the room has heard about the curse that runs through the royal family that rules Illimité, a curse that gives the bearer not only dark magic to wield and control, but to also be able to turn into a beast. Many people in all their kingdoms have started tales about the cursed beings of Illimité, telling their children to behave or the “Dark Tálsýn” will get you and take you away and eat you. 

“Then what do we do about her? Can’t have her running around and killing every ruler that she comes in contact with,” Wooyoung asks jokingly; however, he realizes how bad his joke was when he looks to see Mingi’s grime face, devoid of emotions. 

“That’s why I brought you all here,” Mingi says, voice devoid of emotion as well and no one, not even Yunho could tell what he was feeling. “Because we can’t let her continue on like this, I want to form an alliance between our countries.”

“And do what? Take her down?” Yeosang asks after he takes another sip of his drink. 

“No,” Mingi says, fists clenched and eyes full of raw anger, “We kill her.”

[paradiqms]

(10) to you, 2000 years from now.

hongjoong x fem!reader.

tags: angst, captain!hongjoong, royalty!reader, betrayals, misunderstandings, mentions of death, cruelty, fluff here n there, fantasy setting, strangers to lovers to enemies to..?

summary: after the death of your parents and near fall of your kingdom, you have no choice but to leave your first love in order to keep the kingdom in balance with you as the new ruler. years later, you see a familiar face - but instead of being in your arms, he's kneeling in front of the guillotine.

authors note: tw for this chapter!! brief description of torture (nothing specific) and toxic/strained relationship with parents, notably the father.

join taglist here! if you're already on the taglist, i'd appreciate it if you were to fill in the attached form anyway so i can keep up with who's on which taglist hehe. ik i do be messy n forgetful but lets ignore that.....

word count: 5.2k

networks: @cromernet

currently, ten out of ?

previous.

breathe in. 

breathe out.

one, two, three…

shoot.

with a small movement of his fingers, yeosang lets go of the bow string, and his arrow zips through the air with great speed. the metal arrowhead pierces right through the target’s centre.

bullseye.

the young prince lowers his wooden weapon. he stares forward, the structure of his target that sits approximately 70 meters away from his current spot staring back at him. he can see the previous targets within his peripheral vision, all of them having an arrow struck precisely in the middle of each one. they’re silent, as inanimate objects should be, but yeosang feels irritated by their mere presence.

look at you, they mock. shooting arrows again as if you haven’t mastered archery when you were a child. can’t you do anything else?

yeosang’s fingers tighten around the grip of his weapon. he’s gone mad, he thinks, after years and years of repeated training over a craft that he’s already far over the extent of being simply skilled at. archery used to be something he adored ever since he first felt the smooth surface of the wooden bow his father gifted him during his 5th birthday, telling him stories about how everyone within the royal lineage of the kang family are masters of the sport. 

“this bow used to be mine,” his father smiled down at the sight of his excited son. “and now, it’s yours.”

when he shot his first arrow, even when it was nowhere near his target, he felt as if cupid’s own arrow had pierced his heart as he fell in love.

with the prince’s wide starry eyes and determined smile whenever he’s on the training grounds during his childhood, even he himself would never have guessed that he would grow to hate archery.

if he were to be more bitter and honest, yeosang thinks it’s not just the sport that he hates. he hates the grueling hours of training he has to go through each and every day, he hates the pristine white walls within the castle he resides in, he hates the amount of books he’s expected to read and memorize, he hates the lessons he has to attend every day - and god, does he hate being restricted on what he should and should not do by those who think they have any say in his own life.

a life where he never got the chance to live. truly live.

just as he’s about to place his bow down, a familiar voice calls out his name. yeosang turns around, and he’s met with the tall and buff figure of his father who stands several steps away from his own standing spot. there’s a solemn look of the king’s face, one that he wears almost all the time for as long as yeosang can remember.

“father.” yeosang greets with a quick bow.

when the king doesn’t respond, yeosang knows something is wrong.

his father approches him with long, confident strides, shoes crunching against the grass of the training grounds. the sound makes yeosang’s ears ring and his heart palpitating with anxiety. his father’s figure casts a shadow over his own once the king is standing in front of him, blocking the early morning sunlight and leaving the young prince in the dark.

a moment passes by. yeosang can feel the beating of his heart like the ticking of a bomb that’s just waiting to explode. all of the sudden, his cheek burns.

there’s a deafening ring in the prince’s ears. it takes a few seconds to finally realize that his father had just slapped him right across the face.

“you,” the king speaks, voice low and gruff. “absolute disgrace of a son. have i not told you multiple times to not sneak out of the castle?”

the bomb that was previously ticking within yeosang’s chest bursts. he stiffens, ice running in his veins as he registers the words of his father. other than his personal guard, jongho, there’s no one else who knows about the prince and his habit of sneaking out of the royal castle - and if there’s one word to describe jongho, it’s loyal. ever since he took his oath, the royal guard would never betray yeosang’s trust, even when questioned by the king.

which can only mean one thing.

“what did you do to him?” yeosang’s voice is no louder than an uneasy whisper, fearing the worse.

the silence that comes from his father only serves to feed into his fear. he can feel the king’s eyes burning fire into his skin, a flame that was once ignited with the warmth of a loving father who only wishes the best for his son - but now, the flame has gone far beyond control, searing the prince’s flesh and branding him with a reminder that he is not, and never will be, free.

“what did you do to him?” yeosang urges. there’s moisture prickling in his wavering eyes, and he’s unsure whether it’s from fearing for jongho’s safety or from the broken heart of a child.

“disobey the king’s orders will lead to consequences,” his father tilts his head up, looking down at yeosang with empty eyes. “and neither you nor that incompetent fool of a royal guard are exempted."

yeosang doesn’t need to hear anything else. the wooden bow that he was previously clutching onto is quickly thrown onto the ground, forgotten and abandoned like the fond memories he once shared with his father. the prince runs past the king without a single look back, undoubtedly making his way back into the castle to find the whereabouts of his guard. he whizzes past onlookers, servants and fellow archerers alike - some of them call out for him with worry, but the prince doesn’t spare them a glance.

not when all he can think of is jongho, jongho, jongho. 

the walls of the castle echo the hurried sounds of his shoes against the floors, as if they’re mocking his misfortune. yeosang wastes no time as he quickly reaches the darker area of the castle, one that doesn’t feel the shine of the sun against it’s cold and hostile stone floors.

if his father decided to punish jongho, then there’s no other place to do so if not within the underground dungeons.

as soon as he reaches the end of the staircase that leads to the dungeons, yeosang hears it - the metallic rattles of handcuffs. it’s faint, yet it bounces everywhere against the dirtied walls, surrounding the young prince’s heart with anxiety and sinking it’s claws into his chest. yeosang follows the sound deeper into the dungeons, every step he takes bringing him away from any source of natural lighting until he reaches the end of the corridor, standing in front of the furthest cell.

once his eyes finally adjust to the poor lighting, the prince feels his knees give out at the sight before him.

jongho, his most precious friend and trusted guard, kneels in the middle of the dark and dirty prison cell, head hung low as his arms are stretched upwards in an uncomfortable form, wrists cuffed onto the chain that hangs from the ceiling. his clothes are tattered and torn, slashes that seem to have been caused by a sharp blade tearing the fabric and giving the prince a small glimpse of the dark red that oozes from jongho’s skin. he’s breathing, yeosang can only make out that much, but he doesn’t seem very… well.

the prince feels something wet on his cheeks, but he’s quick to wipe it away.

“jongho,” he whispers, fearing that if he were to speak any louder, his friend might crumble into pieces. “jongho, please answer me.”

silence.

“jongho,” yeosang grits his teeth, clutching onto the bars of the cell. “i order you to answer me right this instant, damn it!”

other than hearing the palpitation of his own heart, yeosang’s ears catch the sound of a pained groan coming from within the cell, and his knuckles turn white from the way he grips onto the metal bars as if his life depended on it. 

“your highness…” jongho croaks out. “i’m sorry.”

a shaky sigh escapes the prince’s pale lips once he hears jongho speak. even if he sounds weak, at least he’s still able to talk.

“no,” yeosang breathes out. “it’s not your fault, it never was. i should have stopped sneaking out long ago…”

yeosang would rather disappear off the face of the earth than ever admit that his father is right, and he still thinks so at this very moment - but as he takes in his friend’s condition, the nagging voice in the back of his brain somehow becomes more prominent than ever.

this is your fault, it taunts him. look at him. look at what you’ve done. you almost killed the one person who cares for you, and for what? the smallest taste of freedom that you were never supposed to have?

selfish.

cursed child.

you’re going to end up just like your sister.

“your highness,” jongho calls out despite the ache in his throat. “stop it. it’s not your fault either.”

from the way yeosang turned quiet and lowered his head in something akin to shame, jongho knew that he’s spiralling again. it’s obvious to notice, he thinks, even within the dungeon’s darkness. thanks to the many years he had spent with the prince, he’s gotten used to the many quirks and habits of the young man that would be easily dismissed by those who aren’t familiar with them.

“i’m sorry.” yeosang mumbles. “i put you in danger for my own selfish wants, i don’t deserve your sympathy.” 

jongho simply hums.

“you’re lucky i’m cuffed,” the guard says, earning a confused look from the prince. “or i would have smacked you for saying that.”

a faint smiles grows on jongho’s bloodied lips when he hears the quiet chuckle from his dear prince.

“you’re not in the appropriate state to be joking right now.” yeosang scolds, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt before looking around. “did my - ah, did the king do this to you?”

yeosang doesn’t feel like he would willingly call that man as his father, especially not after this occasion.

“he ordered for it, yes.” jongho breathes out. “but the one who did his dirty work was another guard.”

“did you recognize him?” yeosang questions with a furrow of his eyebrows. he can’t believe the audacity of his father being able to cruelly order the torture of his personal guard yet still refuse to get his hands dirty, even when his fingers are already dripping in the blood of others. 

perhaps it’s his own sick and twisted way of showing some sympathy, since jongho has been yeosang’s guard ever since they were both young teenagers. maybe he couldn’t bear having the blood of the young man who would lay his life down for his son, whose loyalty runs deeper than the lowest underwater trench of the sea. 

wherever one went, the other would follow closely, treating each other more like brothers rather than a royal and his servant.

whatever it may be, sympathy or not, yeosang still thinks it’s unacceptable.

“no,” jongho weakly shakes his head. “had his armor on, helmet and everything.”

before yeosang had the chance to curse out the cowardice of the guard who dared to harm jongho, his attention is caught by the familiar sound of jingling keys coming from inside the cell.

“lucky for me,” jongho smiles weakly. “i managed to snatch this off from the coward. i had to ruin my voice by screaming so he wouldn’t notice, though.”

the prince’s eyes travel upwards ever so slightly, and he feels a weak smile of disbelief growing on his lips when he sees the ring of silver keys dangling from jongho’s fingers.

“of course.” yeosang breathes a soft laugh out, reaching his hand into the cell to grab the keys once jongho throws it towards him, the keys falling onto the dirty floor. “of course you’d do something like that, you crazed man.”

“hey,” jongho feigns offense. “i wasn’t called ‘the best guard eridanus has ever had’ for nothing, your highness.”

as yeosang gets up on wobbly knees to unlock the prison cell’s door, he doesn’t stop the snort that escapes from his lips. the only person who has ever called jongho ‘the best guard eridanus has ever had’ was the prince himself, and he remembers the fact that he said it only because jongho bought his favourite piece of pastry during his birthday several years ago.

yeosang remembers as if it were yesterday. he had to hold back his tears when the young guard barged into his room with a small cake decorated fruit toppings. even when it was far inferior to the grand cake that his father had specially ordered for him, the one that jongho got made him happier than any gigantic cake could ever.

once the prison door clicks open, yeosang moves into the cell and quickly uncuffs his friend, catching his weak body just in time before he could fall face first onto the ground as soon as he’s set free.

“we need to get you treated,” the prince says, properly supporting jongho’s weight with his arm wrapped around the other man’s waist. “i don’t want to take care of a sick teddy bear if your wounds get infected.”

“harsh,” jongho frowns dramatically, earning himself a scoff from his prince. “and here i thought you cared for me.”

the guard winces when he feels a pinch on his side, and he sends a playful glare at the prince, who opts to look away and feign innocence. the two young men make their way out of the gloomy underground dungeon, with yeosang adjusting his own pace to match with jongho’s limps and occasional stumbles.

“...where are we going?” the guard questions as he notices the slight detour that his prince is taking. as far as he knows, the only way back up is via the staircase by the end of the dark corridor, but yeosang seems to have other plans in his head as he brings jongho through a smaller, tight-spaced hallway that they entered using a secret door that jongho never knew even existed.

which is odd. all royal guards have been taught of every secret door, passage, room, and everything alike within the castle just in case there was a need for an emergency exit or entry. however, jongho can’t seem to remember nor recognize the path that yeosang is leading him into.

“we’re sneaking out, duh,” yeosang says as a matter-of-factly. “i can’t risk bringing you to the royal physician, he’ll report us to the king and he’ll get both of us killed.”

a smile blooms on jongho’s lips. of course, even when he told himself he wouldn’t sneak out again, his prince would never stay true to those words. yeosang has always been a free-spirit who longs to explore the world outside the castle walls - to be free of duty and responsibilty, away from the sharp claws of his royal lineage that suffocates him.

during his first few weeks of becoming the prince’s personal guard, jongho had commited himself wholly to the king’s simple orders - never allow the prince to leave the castle grounds. naive and eager to please, jongho was always quick to deny yeosang’s wishes to go out and explore, but the prince was quicker. he’d find ways to sneak past his eagle eyes and sharp ears, leaving jongho frustrated and at risk of growing white hair at the ripe age of 18.

the moment jongho finally, finally, caught yeosang sneaking out, he decided to follow him. find out where he’s going, who he interacts with, memorize the specific paths he takes and the approximate amount of time he takes to get from one place to another - he was determined to squeeze out all the information he could get his hands on.

instead, he found himself in trouble when he saw the look on the prince’s face as he sat quietly on top of the tall wall that surrounds the city of eridanus with a content smile on his lips, one that gives shame to the strained and fake smile the prince always had whenever he’s within the castle. it was dark, jongho remembers, the twinkle of the night stars and the gentle glow of moonlight illuminating the prince’s face as he gazed forward.

what was he looking at? there’s nothing to admire outside the walls, only acres of forestry with rough terrains and steeps hills as well as countless bodies of water.

and yet, as the prince gazed at nothing, the guard could see everything in his eyes, even when he was spying on him from afar. yeosang never had this look on his face whenever he’s within the castle - the face of someone who wants more, someone who knows he’s destined for more. his eyes longed for everything that he itches to reach for and grab on to, in hopes it could drag him out of his miserable life as a royal who only lives to be caged.

ever since then, jongho would let yeosang sneak out as much as he wants to, even going to the extent of lying to his fellow guards about the prince’s whereabouts and allowing himself to be mercilessly beaten. 

the scars are temporary, jongho thinks, mere setbacks as he does his best to make sure his dear prince will get the freedom he deserves. 

if it meant that yeosang would have the stars twinkling in his eyes again, then jongho would sacrifice anything for him.

if you knew you were going to be thrown into the middle of a kingdom you’ve never been to before, all alone, you never would have agreed to that witch of a woman who calls herself yoona.

just the thought of her makes you irritated, as if you’re not already stomping your away through eridanus’ streets with the most obvious frown on your face.

“just go straight and turn left at the tavern,” you mock her voice, gripping onto the cloak that seonghwa had given you back in cygnus. “it’s the shop right by the corner, my ass.”

the moment you had woken up to the song of eridanus’ early morning birds, your peace was disturbed immediately when you bumped into yoona in the hallway of the second floor. you saw her exiting one of the rooms, which you can only guess to be the one yunho is resting in, and she’s quick to approach you even when you tried to turn away and get back into your own room.

“i need your help.” yoona had called out to you.

“good morning to you too.” you didn’t initally plan to sound far too sarcastic, but you did anyway. oh well. 

“.... good morning,” the young woman replied, her eye twitching by the tone of your voice. “look, i really need your help. the other boys are still sleeping and i don’t want to wake them up.”

you sighed and gestured for her to continue.

“could you get some lavender for me? i ran out but i need it to treat yunho’s wounds.” yoona had requested, playing with the fabric of her apron that’s neatly tied around her middle.

if you were any more bitter, you would have denied and told her that you are not some kind of maid that she can simply order around. luckily for her, you’re not insufferably bitter, at least not verbally. plus, it’s for yunho, and you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you denied anything that could make him feel better.

so, you agreed. the innkeeper’s daughter handed you a few gold coins for the lavender’s payment and a bunch of vague instructions on how to reach the local herbalist - ones that you were quick to forget, embarrasingly so.

just because you’re some kind of chosen one that could read an ancient map does not mean you’re any better with directions than a child. it’s not even your fault, how could she expect you to know your way around the kingdom when you arrived only yesterday?

should you ask around? it seems to be the most appropriate choice, and luckily for you, there are several groups of townspeople passing by.

just pick a random stranger, you urge yourself. it’s not that hard.

your eyes scan the area for any faces that look easy to approach, but everyone seems to be on their way to go somewhere. soon enough, you spot a young man who’s leaning against a wall, seemingly doing nothing but staring at the passerbys. he’s dressed in dark colors from head to toe, his black hair slicked back with a few strands framing his sharp face and a matching set of dark eyes following the movement of the people who walk pass him. he seems to be around your age, so you suppose that he should be easier to talk to compared to the elderly townsfolk who might just scold you for wasting their time on giving you directions.

with a quick breath in and out, you make your way towards the man.

“excuse me,” you say once you’re close enough, and the man is quick to turn his head towards you. “do you know the way to the herbalist’s shop?”

the man is quiet for a second as his eyes look at you up and down. before you had the chance to feel intimidated, the man flashes you a smile.

“of course,” he speaks, and you notice that he has a bit of an accent. “i’ll walk you there. can’t have a lady like you in these streets alone.”

“ah,” you return his smile warmly. “thank you. i hope i’m not disturbing you or anything.”

the man gently kicks himself off the wall he was previously leaning against, dismissing your words with a wave of his hand.

“nah, i wasn’t up to anything. just wanted to get some fresh morning air.” he explains. the man walks pass you, and you follow him closely once he gestures you to do so with a quick tilt of his head.

“you from around here?” he asks.

“no,” you turn away in attempt to hide the fact that you’re lying through your teeth. “i’m just a travelling merchant.”

the man simply hums.

“i see,” he responds. “seems like that’s one thing in common between us - except i’m not a merchant.”

“what are you, then?” you question, deciding to turn once again to look at the man as he walks beside you.

“a humble traveler.” he says, offering no further explanation. his eyes meet yours as he tilts his head slightly just to see you, and he smiles.

you, ever so kind, smile back at the stranger. for some reason, a voice in the back of your head is telling you not to, but you ignore it.

the rest of the journey towards the herbalist shop goes on in silence. truthfully, halfway through the trip, you had begun to worry. what if this man isn’t who he says he is? he might be leading you somewhere else, taking advantage of the fact that you’re absolutely clueless about the roads in eridanus before killing you in cold blood for his own sick satisfaction.

your worries are quickly shut down once you spot the herbalist shop sign, and you let go of the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

it’s just baseless, meaningless worries. that’s all to it.

“here we are,” the man stops right in front of the shop. “would you like me to wait for you? just in case you don’t remember the way back.”

a soft snicker falls from your lips at the man’s words, because he’s most definitely right. you do not remember the way back.

“that would be great,” you grin. “thank you, mister…”

you drag your words a little, and the man takes the hint to tell you his name.

“christopher,” he informs. “but everyone calls me chan, so i expect you to do the same, miss…”

christopher, or chan, drags his words in a similar way you did to yours mere seconds ago, and it makes you stiffle back an entertained laugh.

“well, chan,” you speak smoothly. “you can call me byeol.”

the fake name that you came up with during your youth slides off your tongue as easy as any lie does, despite the uncomfortable nagging in your chest in the form of a palpitating heart.

“byeol,” chan repeats. “that has to be the best fitting name i’ve ever come across.”

you scoff, dismissing the cheeky smile that chan has on his lips with a wave of your hand before making your way up the small flight of stairs in front of the herbalist shop’s front porch. 

you knock the wooden door thrice before entering, and the chime of a small bell rings above your head. the moment you step in, the strong scent of various herbs paired with a faint smell of burning fire overcomes your senses. the shop is lit with the natural glows of sunlight coming from the tall, open windows, and there’s a gentle breeze coming from one of them that makes some of the many, many plants within the shop sway with it’s blows.

there’s a wooden counter at the middle of the shop, but nobody stands behind it. you suppose the owner is somewhere else, maybe they’re helping another customer that came before you - either way, you’re left to figure out by yourself on where the lavender is kept within the cramped shop.

you take a few timid steps forward, the heels of your shoes clicking against the floorboards. you come to notice that there is someone else inside the shop as you catch the sight of a rather tall person by the corner of the shop. they have their back facing you, seemingly busy with browsing through the myriad of herbs, but you notice that they’re wearing a cloak, much like yourself.

in the back of your head, you can only remember one person who uses that cloak.

the person turns around just enough for you to see their side-profile, and your suspicions are correct. the sight of a familiar looking birthmark that sits prettily right under the person’s eye is a dead giveaway to the man you previously bumped into while you were on your little cafe hopping trip with wooyoung and san yesterday.

without taking a second to reconsider what you’re about to do, you approach the man with a wide grin, tapping onto his shoulder to gain his attention.

“hey there,” you greet warmly. “fancy seeing you here!”

yeosang jolts in surprise when he feels someone tapping on his shoulder, and he turns around to see a familiar face - the woman who bumped into him yesterday.

the same woman who called his birthmark pretty. despite the previous anxiety that he had felt while he was waiting for the herbalist to fix jongho up in the back of the shop, yeosang feels a smile growing on his lips.

“hi,” he grins. “what a pleasant surprise. i remember you from yesterday, dear travelling merchant.”

“ah,” you blink, a little caught off guard that the man actually remembers the event. you were beginning to prepare yourself for the incoming embarrassment if he didn’t recognize you. “you’re right, that’s me! i didn’t think you’d remember.”

“of course i remember,” yeosang chuckles. “no one else has been as clumsy as you are to bump right into a stranger.”

at the obvious tease in his words, you scrunch your face at the stranger.

“hey,” you grumble. “not my fault that you were standing in my way, you absolute tree.”

yeosang shakes his head, scoffing at your choice of words. even jongho never called him such a thing - he’ll be making a mental reminder to use it against his guard before the latter could have the chance to use it on him. although, yeosang realizes after a short second, jongho isn’t exactly a tree. if anything, that young man is a whole wall.

okay, yeosang thinks. i’ll call him wall instead. 

“what are you doing here, anyway?” yeosang questions.

“oh, just here for some lavender.” you shrug your shoulders. “i’m not sure where they are, though.”

“oh,” yeosang walks pass you quickly before reaching upwards to the top of a shelf, hands plucking a few light purple stems from one of the pots. “they’re right here. here you go.”

the prince offers you the lavender stems, and you can’t stop the wide, appreciative smile that blooms on your lips as you take the herbs into your own hands. you thank him promptly, bowing a few times to further emphasize your gratefulness.

“no problem.” yeosang brushes your thanks off. “you can take your leave if you’re in a hurry, by the way. i’ll pay for your lavenders.”

just as you were about to reject the offer, you realize that yoona had given you enough coins for a maximum of three stems of lavender - and what you have in your hands now is closer to a mini bouquet. well, since he already offered…

“sure,” you agree, grinning ear to ear at the man. “i’d appreciate that, thank you so much.”

yeosang merely nods as a humble way to accept your thanks, and he waves goodbye to you as you make your way out of the shop. once you’re out of sight, the prince’s smile slowly fades away.

lavenders, he thinks. they’re for treating wounds. i hope she isn’t hurt.

you exit the shop with a happy smile, a hand full of lavenders, and a content heart. maybe today isn’t so bad.

“chan!” you call out as you skip down the stairs. “i got my lavenders, some prince looking guy paid them for me-”

just as you arrive at the bottom of the stairs, you realize that chan is nowhere to be found.

ugh, you frown, mood quickly going down again. spoke way too soon.

you could wait for the birthmark man to come out and ask him to escort you instead, you suppose, but you don’t want to keep yoona waiting. not that you’re being considerate for her, it’s more to not wanting to delay her process of making sure yunho’s wounds are properly treated and kept away from any infections.

so, with a heavy frown and an even heavier heart, you stomp away from the shop, going back to the grumpiness you had earlier and mentally preparing yourself to get lost once more.

as you walk away, you don’t notice the pair of sharp eyes following your movements.

“chan to hyunjin,” chan whispers into the communication device in his hands, hidden in the darkness of the alleyway he snuck in to. “come in, hyunjin.”

the device crackles for a few moments before the familiar voice of his most trusted assassin speaks up.

“hyunjin coming in,” the assassin responds through the device. “what’s up?”

“tell the others,” chan says, a satisfied smirk creeping onto his cold lips. “to prepare for the win we’ve been waiting for.”

there’s a brief silence by the other end of the device before the sound of excited chatter comes up.

“are you serious?” hyunjin’s voice speaks up again, and it only makes chan’s smirk grown bigger.

“you bet.” he reassures.

“i’ve got eyes on our dear little starlight.”

next.

taglist: @atinytinaa @crimson-mia @catwhisk @lelaleleb@realrya @layzfeelit @atinyreads @revehosh @fourthirtyone-am @jexizia @xxluckydreamsxx @sankatchu @mythicalamphitrite @isntw0nwoo@honeyhwaaa@hiccups-are-better

[bangtanwritershq]

BangtanWritersHQ Presents: "Fesh Start" Masterlist

For January 2024, we put together a collection of fics from our network members to celebrate new beginnings, fresh starts, and self-discovery while starting over. That is anything from budding new relationships, getting over heavy breakups, or recovering from a life-altering event, featuring all manner of AUs, tropes, and pairings.

Browse at your leisure and ENJOY!

KEY:

🔞 - nsfw (mature themes) ✅ - sfw (no warnings) 💖 - smut ⚠️ - other warnings

SET UP - emojis: Title (if link is to another platform) | Author [parts] pairings, genre/aus, rating, word count

🔞💖⚠️ Box of Chocolates | @colormepurplex2 [2/2] Pairing: Hoseok x f.Reader AU/Genre: Exes to Lovers, Second Chances | angst, smut Rating: MA WC: 15,093

🔞💖⚠️ Make You Mine | @colormepurplex2 [2/2] Pairing: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!f.Reader AU/Genre: Enemies to Lovers | angst, fluff, smut Rating: MA WC: 11,231

🔞💖 Pursuit of Dimples (Ao3) | @downbad4yoongi [9/?] Pairing: Namjoon x OC AU/Genre: College, Meet Cute | smut, fluff Rating: MA WC: ~21,434

🔞⚠️ Promises, Promises (Ao3) | @downbad4yoongi [1/1] Pairing: Jimin x Jeongguk AU/Genre: Mail Order Husband, Marriage of Convenience, Mild Sexual Themes | angst w/happy ending Rating: PG-13 WC: 11,280

🔞💖⚠️ It Was Always You | @downbad4yoongi [1/1] Pairing: Jimin x OC AU/Genre: Royalty, Surprise Pregnancy | smut Rating: MA WC: 2,918

🔞💖⚠️ Merry and Mended | @downbad4yoongi [1/1] Pairing: Alpha!Yoongi x Omega!Taehyung AU/Genre: A/B/O, Holiday | smut, fluff Rating: MA WC: 8,536

🔞💖⚠️ Spotless Minds | @yoonia [1/1] Pairing: Hoseok x Reader AU/Genre: Past Lovers, Inspired by Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind Rating: MA WC: 35,801

🔞💖⚠️ The (im)Perfect Ending | @yoonia [1/1] Pairing: Namjoon x f.Reader AU/Genre: Past Lovers, Second Chance, Infidelity | smut, angst Rating: MA WC: 43,816

🔞💖⚠️ Slow Dancing | @yoonia [13/13] Pairing: Jungkook x Reader | Namjoon x Reader AU/Genre: Soulmates, Second Chances | angst, eventual smut Rating: MA WC: 125,602

🔞💖⚠️ Once Upon An Us | @yoonia [1/1] Pairing: Namjoon x f.Reader AU/Genre: Past Lovers, Exes to Lovers Rating: MA WC: 47,135

🔞💖⚠️ Till Death Do Us Part | @colormepurplex2 [4/4] Pairing: Hitman!Yoongi x Kidnapped!Reader AU/Genre: Mafia, Arranged Marriage | angst, smut, mild fluff Rating: MA WC: 41,132

🔞💖⚠️ The Stars In His Eyes...The Hate In Your Heart | @colormepurplex2 [2/2] Pairing: Hoseok x f.Reader AU/Genre: Brother's Best Friend, Enemies to Lovers | angst, smut, mild fluff Rating: MA WC: 18,085

All stories copywritten of the specified author. The authors provided consent for their stories to the network to be shared by submitting their stories. Stories posted in the order of submission to the event.

[darlingvernon]

mobile masterlist

Disclaimer: Anything marked M for Mature has sexual, explicit content. Do not read if you're under 18 years old. All works of fiction are marked for a reason.

I do not allow reposting/translating of my work.

NETWORKS: @svthub @k-vanity @kwritersworld

MISC:

⇢ svthub december prompt challenge

♔ Seungcheol (Scoups)

✎ MINIS:

⇢ seungcheol thots ⇢ a baby ⇢ sweater [M]

♔ Jeonghan

always been you [M]. ↳ you promised yourself that you wouldn't fall in love but jeonghan just had to go ahead and ruin everything ◇ fluff, angst, smut | royalty au, arranged marriage au ◇ 10.5k [1/1]

✎ MINIS:

⇢ eggnog

♔ Joshua

on air. -> coming soon! ↳ a story about a boy, a girl and his guitar ◇ fluff, angst, smut | rockstar au ◇ wc tbd

✎ MINIS:

⇢ family

♔ Junhui (Jun)

✎ MINIS:

⇢ junhui thots ⇢ snowman

♔ Soonyoung (Hoshi)

odds [M]. ↳ and the cycle never stops... until it does. ◇ angst | toxic relationships ◇ 4.1k

✎ MINIS:

⇢ bow [M]

♔ Wonwoo

bitten. ↳ a series of non-chronological drabbles + one shots about crown prince wonwoo and his lover ◇ vampire au ◇ 2.1k [2/?]

[ i | ii ]

✎ MINIS:

⇢ cold

♔ Jihoon (Woozi)

✎ MINIS:

⇢ a whole meal [M] ⇢ blizzard [M]

♔ Seokmin (DK)

✎ MINIS:

⇢ nutcracker

♔ Mingyu

✎ MINIS:

⇢ rain ⇢ fireplace [M]

♔ Minghao (THE8)

✎ MINIS:

⇢ gingerbread

♔ Seungkwan

✎ MINIS:

⇢ carols

♔ Hansol (Vernon)

you've got mail! ↳ when participating in a social experiment gets you more than you bargained for ◇ fluff | strangers to lovers, college au, penpal au ◇ 12k [3/11]

[masterlist]

✎ MINIS:

⇢ vernon thots ⇢ somebody you ⇢ groceries ⇢ mistletoe ⇢ present [M]

♔ Chan (Dino)

✎ MINIS:

⇢ reindeer

© darlingvernon

[k-vanity]

Wanderlust Festival: A K-Vanity Event

Welcome to the Wanderlust Festival, the biggest autumn carnival of the year. We have many attractions that'll give you a sense of adventure and foods that will take you out of this world! Pick up your map and get to exploring this limited time experience!

(thank you to @papermatisse for making the map) In this event, you will either write a fic or create a visual based off of the prompts we have listed below. Writers You will pick a ride (or more than one if you choose) based off of the genres and tropes listed below. It must be included in your work.

genres/rides

fluff: merry-go-round, (swan) pedal boats

angst: hot air balloon ride, carousel waltzer

smut: ferris wheel, log ride

comedy: tilt-a-whirl, fun slide

horror: boat ride, sling shot

slice of life: mirror maze

thriller: hay ride, haunted house

Fantasy: tea cups, swing ride

sci-fi: pirate swing, bumper cars

tropes/events:

petting zoo: established relationship, protagonist is a suspect 

apple bobbing: strangers to lovers, body switching 

concerts: friends with benefits, discovering special powers 

fireworks: forbidden love, dual timeline

pumpkin patch: friends to lovers, set in a small town

face painting: fake relationship, dark family secret

vendor activities : incapable of love, cursed items

bean sack race: soulmate, the double-cross

hot dog contest: enemies to lovers, unlikely allies 

tug-a-war: exes to lovers, the power of teamwork

water shows: best friend’s brother/sister, childhood memories

dunk tank: love triangle, unreliable narrator

parade: royalty, heir to the throne

Visual Artists You will create a edit (gif, moodboard, gfx, fanart, etc) based off of the prompts listed below. You can choose more than one if you like but it must be included in your work. You also have the choice to gif any kpop content that is carnival related.

cotton candy: fairycore

lemonade: vsco

fried pickles: country

chocolate covered bananas: baddie

deep fried oreos: soft

elephant ears: cottagecore

pretzels: light academia

witches' brew: dark academia

caramel/candy apples: pastel goth

kettle corn: cozy sweater

cidar drink: witchcore

corn dogs: artist

funnel cakes: old money

slushies: kawaii

meat: goblincore

loaded fries: grunge

nachos: ePerson

churros : ethereal

pizza: Y2K

hot dogs: indie

ice cream: vintage

Rules:

You must be a member of the network to participate.

For writers, the content must be at least 500 words.

For visual artists, the prompt must be included in your work (where it's in the caption or in the gif/gfx/edit itself).

No sign ups. Just use the tag #kwanderlust along with the net tag #kvanity when posting your work.

Regular rules and regulations from the net apply to this event.

Event Timeline:

Posting Period: Sept 23rd-Nov 18th

Masterlist will be posted Nov 25th

If you have any questions please reach out to the K-Vanity team!

[blankjournal]

𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗪𝗦𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛 𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗚𝗧𝗛

To make it easier to sort through different length works, we have them divided into four categories length wise. Additionally, we have differentiated between written series and social media AUs.

0k-1k

1k-5k

5k-15k

15k+

series

smau

𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗪𝗦𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘

We have divided writings into twelve main genres. Pick any of your choice and enjoy the scrolling!

fluff

smut

angst

comedy

adventure

horror

action

fantasy

slowburn

drama

science fiction

mystery

slice of life

coming of age

𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗪𝗦𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛 𝗔𝗨𝘀

If you'd like to search for fics based on their AUs, we have made an extensive list of them for you to explore! Note that our network is just starting out, so we may have a shortage of writings. However, we are working on widening our selection.

manual search: (tag name) + au | example: enemies to lovers au

enemies to lovers

friends to lovers

strangers to lovers

actor

android

amnesia

apocalypse

arranged marriage

artist

athlete

babysitter

bad boy/girl

bakery

barista

band

bodyguard

camp

celebrity

ceo

cheerleader

chef

coffee shop

college

coworkers

criminal

cyberpunk

dancer

demon/devil

doctor

domestic

exes

established relationship

fantasy

fake dating

figure skater

flower shop

forbidden love

fuck boy/girl

gamer

gang

ghost

greek mythology

hanahaki

high school

historical

hogwarts

hybrid

idol

mafia

model

musician

neighbors

nerd

office

paranormal

parents

photographer

pirate

reincarnation

rich kids

rivals

road trip

roommates

royalty

soulmates

steampunk

surfer

swimmer

tattoo artist

teacher

time travel

undercover

unrequited

vacation

vampire

villain

wedding

werewolf

yandere

PART 2 OF AUs

[rabbitcruiser]

National Cinnamon Day

Celebrate and appreciate one of the world’s favorite ancient spices by getting excited about National Cinnamon Day. So grab a favorite cinnamon treat and read on to learn more about this delicious spice and the ways it has been part of human history for thousands of years!

History of National Cinnamon Day

Native to Ceylon, which is modern day Sri Lanka, cinnamon’s first recordings are from Chinese writings that date as far back as 2800 BC. Even today in the Cantonese language, cinnamon is still known as “kwai”. And in the Malay language, it goes by “kayumanis”, which means “sweet wood”. This is certainly an apt description of this spicy but uniquely sweet flavor.

During medieval times, doctors found that cinnamon worked well as a treatment for coughs, sore throats and hoarseness. It may also have been considered a status symbol and was often used as a special imported gift given to monarchs, royalty and other people of importance.

Cinnamon, along with other precious spices might seem rather innocuous now, but in the early days of their discovery, several wars were fought over the lands where cinnamon came from. The Portuguese, Dutch and British armies all sought to conquer Ceylon (modern day Sri Lanka) in an effort to obtain full access to their spices.

Today, sourcing cinnamon comes with much less angst and political struggle as, for most people, it’s easy to simply pop over to the local grocery store, health food store or spice shop to pick some up. Typically cinnamon can be found in two varieties, ground or whole. Ground cinnamon is used in many different recipes for baking and cooking, while whole cinnamon sticks are more often steeped into beverages or infused into flavoring syrups.

Of course, cinnamon is really the star of the show when it comes to the beloved pumpkin pie spice. Combined with allspice, nutmeg and clove, cinnamon is the base for this grouping of flavors that represents all things fall.

In honor of National Cinnamon Day, it’s time to get creative and enjoy cinnamon in a whole myriad of ways!

National Cinnamon Day Timeline

2000 BC Spices are exchanged along the Silk Road

A network of sea routes link East to West, from Japan all the way over to Europe, and cinnamon is one of the spices traded on this route.

65 AD Emperor Nero burns cinnamon

Nero is said to have burned a year’s worth of Rome’s supply of cinnamon at his wife’s funeral. 

14th Century Portuguese explorers find cinnamon

While traders brought the spice to the West, the place where it originates from is kept secret until the Portuguese discover it in Ceylon.

Early 1800s British take over Ceylon

Defeating the Dutch occupiers, the British take over the island country of Ceylon, gaining full access to cinnamon.

1930s Cinnamon candy is made

Produced by the Ferrara Pan Candy Company, Red Hots are made using the panned method of candy making.

How to Celebrate National Cinnamon Day

Get excited about cinnamon and enjoy National Cinnamon Day with some of these fun and clever ideas for celebrating:

Eat Something Cinnamon

From cinnamon candy to cinnamon rolls and everything in between, National Cinnamon Day is best celebrated by enjoying the flavors of this delicious spice. Whether it’s simply grabbing a pack of cinnamon gum from the local convenience store, or a cinnamon latte from a local coffee shop, this is the day to enjoy all things cinnamon!

In fact, while often associated with sweet things in the West, cinnamon is also often used in savory dishes in many cultures. From curries to mole sauces to barbecue rubs, cinnamon can be used in every meal of the day for breakfast lunch and dinner!

Try a cinnamon roll or a healthy bowl of oatmeal flavored with cinnamon for breakfast. Lunch could consist of a Hawaiian pizza topped with pineapple, ham and almond slivers, sprinkled with delicious cinnamon. And dinner? Well, a big vat of butter chicken, cinnamon green lentil soup or chicken shawarma would do nicely, thank you very much!

Learn the Health Benefits of Cinnamon

Cinnamon is more than just a yummy way to flavor foods and beverages! It is also a natural substance that offers a whole host of properties that may be beneficial to human health. There’s a reason that it was often offered as a gift to kings!

Consider some of these interesting benefits of including cinnamon as part of a healthy diet:

Cinnamon is full of antioxidants. Fighting off free radicals is the name of the game when it comes to preventing health problems such as cancer, heart disease and other issues.

Cinnamon has anti-inflammatory properties. Inflammation can be helpful in fighting off foreign bodies, but too much inflammation can cause huge health problems like arthritis, asthma, diabetes, cancer and so much more.

Cinnamon may help prevent heart disease. This unassuming spice has been linked as a way to reduce heart disease, which is the number one cause of death in the world today.

Cinnamon can help balance insulin. A serious problem today is insulin resistance which can cause type 2 diabetes and metabolic syndrome. Cinnamon can help to reduce the body’s resistance to the hormone insulin and help it do its job well.

Enjoy Baking with Cinnamon

Cinnamon brings a whole host of opportunities for cooking and baking in the kitchen at home. From cinnamon rolls to snickerdoodle cookies, from cinnamon donuts to cinnamon coffee cake, this spice really has it all!

Get creative by adding cinnamon sugar to honey and rolling it in phyllo dough for a pseudo-baklava taste. Or go a bit more traditional by baking an all-American apple pie that is, of course, spiced with cinnamon. Another enjoyable way to use cinnamon is to add it to a traditional loaf of quick bread, such as banana bread, pumpkin bread.

Savor a Cup of Cinnamon Tea

While many people think of cooking and baking with cinnamon, one of the best ways to enjoy this delicious spice is by steeping it into a hot beverage. Teas made from cinnamon can be not only tasty but can also offer a nice way to infuse some of the health benefits that were mentioned above.

So, in honor of National Cinnamon Day, perhaps consider trying out one of these delightful brands of cinnamon tea:

Harney & Sons Hot Cinnamon Spice Tea. This is the most popular flavor of this company’s tea that is sold throughout the world, its flavors are of cinnamon, orange peel and sweet cloves.

The Republic of Tea Cinnamon Plum Tea. This is a black tea that is blended with zingy cinnamon spice and offers the calm taste of ripe plums.

Bigelow Black Tea Cinnamon Stick. A classic version with a spicy kick, this black tea is just the right balance of sweet and spicy.

National Cinnamon Day FAQs

Can dogs have cinnamon?

Cinnamon is not toxic to dogs, but it could cause indigestion so it may be best to avoid giving cinnamon to a dog.

Is cinnamon good for you?

Yes! Cinnamon is a healthy spice that contains antioxidants and may be helpful in fighting against heart disease, insulin resistance, and might even protect against cancer.

Where does cinnamon come from?

Originating from trees in Sri Lanka, which is an island in the Indian Ocean, a lot of cinnamon is now grown in Indonesia.

How to make cinnamon sugar

Cinnamon sugar is easy! Just combine 2 tablespoons of cinnamon with ½ cup white sugar and combine.

Can cinnamon go bad?

Though cinnamon will not usually “go bad”, it can get old and lose some of its strength and flavor.

Source

[bangtanficarchive]

Mobile Tags List & Navigation

ARCHIVE CATALOGUE

An in-depth list of every story archived in the network.

BROWSE BY MEMBER

ot7 kim namjoon kim seokjin min yoongi jung hoseok park jimin kim taehyung jeon jeongguk

BROWSE BY GENRE

action angst fantasy fluff humor horror romance slice of life smut violence

BROWSE BY TROPE

brother's best friend childhood friends or sweethearts enemies to lovers exes to lovers friends to lovers strangers to lovers

BROWSE BY RATING

g pg pg-13 m r

BROWSE BY READER

female reader male reader gender neutral reader oc

BROWSE BY AU

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BROWSE BY SEASON

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MISCELLANEOUS

masterlist posts specials

[ao3feed-gratsu]

In Strange Lands

by Anonymous

Prince Gray discovers that his life's worth equals one railway network establishment treaty.

Words: 825, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Fairy Tail

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Natsu Dragneel, Gray Fullbuster, Lyon Vastia, Laxus Dreyar, Ivan Dreyar, Makarov Dreyar, Raijinshuu (Fairy Tail)

Relationships: Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Gray Fullbuster & Lyon Vastia, Gray Fullbuster & Gildarts Clive, Natsu Dragneel & Laxus Dreyar, Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine

Additional Tags: Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Strangers to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Domestic Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Prince Gray Fullbuster, Prince Natsu Dragneel, Dysfunctional Family, Family Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Not Beta Read Only Written On Impulse And Coffee, Protective Big Brother Laxus Dreyar, protective Laxus Dreyar, Culture Shock, Magic Exists But Not As Prevalent, Hurt Gray Fullbuster, Hurt Natsu Dragneel, Conspiracy

Source:https://archiveofourown.org/works/45876313

[captnbarnesrogers]

9,445 Miles From You - honesty is the best policy

Pairing/Characters: Bartender!Harry Styles x Waitress!Reader Warnings: virgin talk, catching feelings, a bit angsty Summary: Harry takes you out to get some food after work and you both get into discussing things Word Count: 2.1k  A/N: Just wanna say that this story will get fictional later, everything else thus far is non-fictional lmao my dumbass really did that

As the days passed by, work seemed to get a bit easier but of course, you still had anxious thoughts filling your head. What if you screwed something up? What if you get fired? What if you’re not good enough? You couldn’t help it. It came flowing in like a running river.  

You sat on the staff room couch, mindlessly chewing on whatever food you’d retrieved from the kitchen. You hadn’t noticed Joe’s presence in the room until he tapped you on the shoulder.  

“Deep thoughts?” He asked. You nodded, “About?”  

“Um, I don’t know, I wouldn’t want to bother you with my bullshit mind.”  

“Please,” he shoved you playfully with a smile, “bother away.” Joe was welcoming from the first moment you met him. You couldn’t help but develop a little crush. Like Harry, he always felt the need to check up on you. The only difference was, you couldn’t see Harry the way you saw Joe. Joe had this sweet essence to him, like you could make the worst mistake in the world and he’d still see you as this precious angel who could do no wrong. It had only been two weeks since you started and in that short time, you felt a familiar bubbly feeling in your stomach every time you saw him.  

“Well, I just- I feel like I’m gonna screw up so much, I like it- I mean, I love it here, you guys make me feel loved and I love my job.”  

“Y/N, you’re new to all of this, right?” You nodded, “This is your first job, you can’t be perfect straight away, you have to make mistakes or else you won’t get better.” 

“I guess, it just stems from coming from a family who expects everything from you but your everything isn’t good enough.” He rubs your back comfortingly, something that, so far, only Harry had done. For a moment you forget that it was Joe comforting you. 

“Look at this way, here you can make mistakes, you can fuck up and not be thought as if you’re not good enough, in this place, you can improve yourself, use it and abuse it.” He chuckles, “Seriously, if you need to talk whenever, pull me aside and we can hide out somewhere and talk, I’d rather you waste your time talking to me than be stressed and panicked while you work.” He stands up.  

“Thanks, Joe.” 

“Anytime.” Harry walks in with a goofy smile which made you laugh. Joe nods at Harry as he exits the room. You felt, from what you’d observed, Harry wasn’t exactly fond of Joe. Every flirtatious comment Joe would make, Harry would butt in with a snarky comment which would make you laugh but feel guilty about later. Within the last two days, you had scolded Harry about it five times. Five times out of the two days.  

“Wha’ was tha’ about? Yeh new lover?” Harry jokes.  

“Shut up, I just needed a bit of reassurance, I guess.”  

“About wha’?” Harry takes a bite out of his food and turns his body to face you.  

“Work.” Harry hums in response, “So, what’s going on with you? You’ve looked a little out of yourself lately and you’ve been snapping at the customers.” It was true. Harry’s appearance was not as clean as you were used to. His eyes were darkened, more than usual due to working late hours at the bar, they were sunken in and his bright smile had not made an appearance in a while. His hair was dishevelled and his glasses were streaked which he had yet to clean, 

“So, what’s the go, Styles?” He sighs and looks at you, setting his food down.  “I guess I could use some female wisdom ‘bout this.” You nodded, “M’kinda goin’ through a tough break up.” Your eyes widened, you didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. 

“Break up?”  

“With Camille.” Camille? She even had a pretty name.  

“Oh.” You pouted but fixed yourself up before he could notice, “Well, what’s happened?”  

“She couldn’t take th’ fact tha’ I’d be gone fo’ two years, I jus’ wanna live m’life, y’know? But I do love ‘er, I do, I jus’ wan’ ‘er t’wait fo’ me.”  

“Then she’s not worth it, Harry, let her leave, don’t drag this out, don’t hurt yourself.” 

“I love ‘er, Y/N.” He leans forward and rests his forehead on your shoulder.  

“Let her go, Har, if she loves you, she wouldn’t have minded the distance.” He pulls away and looks at you with a soft smile upon his lips.  

“This is wha’ makes me no’ believe tha’ yeh’ve nev’a had a boyfriend, yeh too smart, too wise.” You laughed and shove him playfully just as Joe did with you.  

“I’m just waiting for the right guy.”  

“He’s prob’ly righ’ in fron’ of yeh and he’s a lucky guy, m’tellin’ yeh.”  

“You must be a lucky guy then.” You take a sip from your water bottle, smiling. 

“Wha’?” 

“You know, coz you’re right in front of me?” He laughs, his smile widening, the same smile you’d been missing for the past week.  

“Yeh too fuckin’ cheeky fo’ yeh own good, lovie.” He pinches your cheek, making you roll your eyes, “Now, don’ go rollin’ those eyes a’ me, do yeh wanna get some food aft’a work?”  

“With you?” He nodded, “I’d be honoured!” You got up and held your hand out for him to take in which he did. He laughed as you pretended to be wearing a dress, “I’d gladly take your hand in marriage!” You said dramatically in a 50s southern accent, your other hand resting on your head. He twirled you around and you laughed, almost forgetting you were in a messy staff room.  

“Yeh so silly.” You nodded, and he checked his watch, “Time fo’ us t’get back t’work! Yeh an’ me, Burger King, three-thirty a.m.”

Harry waited for you after work. He doesn’t really like the idea of you walking around the streets of the city by yourself. He’d rather wait a couple of hours for you to finish than for you to end up in a ditch somewhere. Of course, not only was the benefit seeing you safe but also, he could get a couple of drinks in. The managers allowed a maximum of three drinks but only limited them to beer and cider which was enough for Harry to feel loose but not over intoxicated - still remembering that he wanted to hear you talk and he wanted to have a nice conversation with you over some greasy food.  

You came down, wrapping your scarf around your neck and zipping up your jacket. You smiled at him and waved, exhaustion almost taking over your body as you walked over to the booth.  

“Yeh ready t’go?” He asked. You nodded, and he stood up and hung his arm around your shoulders. You both walked on the wet pavement of the city in silence. It was only a seven-minute walk to the 24-hour fast food restaurants but of course, Harry being the chatty lad that he was, decided to make small talk, “How was yeh shift?” 

“Exhausting, I worked eleven and a half hours tonight, Har, I’m so tired!” 

“M’sure yeh are, we’ll grab summat t’eat and I’ll wait fo’ th’train with yeh, okay?”  

“Okay.” You both sat down on the red leather seats of the Burger King restaurant after ordering and grabbing your food. Drunk people surrounded you and the floors were covered in mud and dirty serviettes. You let out a huff.  

“Wha’s with all the huffin’ an’ puffin’, lovie?”  

“Well,” You awkwardly began, popping a nugget into your mouth, “I- I think I like Joe.”  

“I knew it!” He took a bite out of his burger, “Yeh always givin’ ‘im eyes.” 

“I don’t give anyone eyes, Styles.”  

“Bu’ yeh do, they’re like lovey dovey eyes, I see it all th’time! ‘Specially aroun’ Joe.”  

“Okay, maybe I do.” You couldn’t help but notice the way his body shifted. He moved over slightly, his body now not facing you as straight as it was before, and he looked down at his food, a short and dishonest smile made an appearance. He looked back up at you, “I-is there something wrong with that?”  

“Yeh jus’ no’ subtle ‘bout it, everyone kno’s.” Your cheeks flushed pink and you were so embarrassed it was like your throat closed up. You took a sip of your drink to drown down the food that you had popped into your mouth.  

“Am I really that bad?” He nodded. 

“M’sure he kno’s.” God, he was being brutally honest. You found a change of tone in his voice unlike his usual sweet one. He sighed and smiled at you, probably noticing his actions, “Why don’ yeh test th’ waters, lovie?” You knew what he meant. See how things go with Joe but from conversations you’ve had with Joe, you knew he was not a relationship kind of guy. 

“I can’t.” 

“Whaddyeh mean? ‘Ave some fun with it.” You placed your drink down after taking a sip. You looked at him with wondering eyes as if you were saying, you don’t know? 

“Harry… I’m a… virgin.” You said quietly, shyly watching people walk past you, “I’m kind of saving myself a-and Joe’s not exactly the relationship type.” 

“I ge’ yeh, lovie, nothin’ t’be embarrassed about.” He smiled at you, “I lost mine quite young, I don’ regret it but I kinda wish I knew wha’ it felt like t’do it with someone I loved.” 

“That’s my thing, I wanna do it with someone I love.” 

“Tha’s good, Y/N, keep yeh innocence fo’ as long as yeh can.” He smiled sweetly at you and let out a breath. Almost like he was relieved, “Yeh’ve musta had a lo’ of guys chasin’ after yeh.” 

“You would be surprised how short the line is.” 

“M’sure they’re there an’ yeh jus’ no’ lookin’ prop’ly coz yeh too busy goin’ after th’ wrong guy.” He sneakily took one of your nuggets, laughing.  

“Har, I’ve never even kissed a guy!”  

“Yeh jokin’!?” He exclaims after almost spitting out his drink. You shook your head.  

“I honestly wish I was, but no one wants me.”  

“He’s out there, lovie, jus’ be patient.” He takes your hand in his, “Yeh don’ have t’rush int’everythin’, like I said, he’s prob’ly right in front of yeh and yeh jus’ too caught up on th’wrong guy bu’ yeh kno… yeh can’t help bu’fall fo’ th’wrong guy.” 

“I hate when you’re right.” 

“An’ I hate when yeh get hurt so if Joe’s no’ int’relationships, don’ do it.” You nodded, “Yeh’ve got a train t’catch in ten minutes, le’s go, lovie.” You sat up on your bed all night, thinking about what Harry had said but your eyes decided to shut when the clock struck eight-thirty a.m. When you woke up, just in time, the text tone of your phone went off.  

From: Harry Mornin’, lovie, wanna grab smth to eat?  

You unlocked your phone and began to type back.  

To: Harry Could use some coffee right about now :/ 

From: Harry Amazing! Get up and get out of bed, we’re having brunch 

You couldn’t help but smile and giggle at his texts. Mornings weren’t really this happy before he came along.  

To: Harry Be there in 45 minutes  

From: Harry I’ll be waiting, lovie! 

You found that Harry preferred to be the one with the last say. He never left you on read. His texts were always to be the last text of the conversation but he did, however, more often than not, take the longest to reply. Suddenly, your text tone went off again when you picked up your jeans off of the floor.  

From: Joe Busy? 

Unusual. Joe never really talked to you outside of work unless the conversation was about work.  

To: Joe Why? 

From: Joe Wanna come to my basketball game? Would love to have someone to cheer me on. 

Your heart skipped a beat. What did this mean? Was this him asking you out? You didn’t know. 

To: Joe Okay, sure!

You exited out of the conversation, clicking on Harry’s text message from before. 

To: Harry Sorry, babycakes, something came up, rain-check? 

Harry waited by the steps of the train station, somewhere he usually dropped you off. He held your favourite drink in his hand. He tapped his foot excitedly on the steps. His phone goes off and his heart drops. 

That was the first time Harry had ever left you on read. 

MASTERLIST

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[justanotherbuckydevotee]

All I Could Do Was Cry - Part 2

Word Count: 2,526 words. Prompt: “I’ve loved you my whole life and you’re about to marry somebody that’s not me. I can’t watch you do that” Warning(s): ANGSSTT. Cursing. So much sadness (I’m sorry) A/N: Final part! This had been frustrating but fun to write. It took me a while to get back, and I’m happy with this. I hope you’ll like the ending. Written for @theassetseyeliner ‘s writing challenge.

English is not my main language so sorry in advance. Happy reading!

masterlist 

part 1 || part 2 || Epilogue

** Gif is not mine. I found it on Google** 

To say you were exhausted was an understatement of the year.

Lying on your bed, you heaved a sigh. Your eyes felt swollen, and you don’t want to check the mirror to see the puffiness rimmed with red, not wanting to see yourself in that state yet. There’s a dull ache in your chest, and you feel like you could sink right into your mattress at the heavy weight of your sorrow.

You’ve lost count how many days you’ve disappeared, fallen into the hole of despair as you ignored the outside world. You didn’t have the energy to do much but lay there, looking up at the white blank ceiling, as the world outside continues to move forward. Thankfully, the office approved your last minute leave as you threw excuses about not feeling well. You hadn’t even bothered looking at the date, overwhelmed by grief of your mistakes.

Should you have told him about your feelings before? Would it have made any difference? These were the thoughts you mostly concerned yourself with, letting your mind roam to new unchartered territory of your feelings about your best friend.

All of which had the same answer: you’d have lost him either way. Because that’s the thing with falling for your best friend, you’ll lose them for having more feelings than the stereotypical framework of two friends who’ve known each other for so long. You’re waging a war with yourself, knowing the outcome wouldn’t be pretty but still battling with your senses and emotions. It’s like playing Russian roulette, with the difference being the chamber is full, but you still can’t stay away. Too captivated by his beauty and kindness.

So you continuously love him, shooting your heart every time you witness him kiss the lips of a girl who isn’t you, firing a round of bullets to your chest each time he tells you how much he loves her.

It’s suicide masked beneath a series of believable encouragements and convincing merriments for them both.

Your phone rings, again, and you let it, not even sparing a glance as it sat on top of your bedside table.

You’ve also been ignoring your friends, not wanting them to see you in this state. Natasha comes by the first night with Bucky when she heard you’d call in sick, bringing an obscene amount of junk food and alcohol that you barely touch. You know they’re just worried, but by the third night (or was it fourth?) you’d ignored their knocking, not wanting company. You texted them a simple reply when neither wouldn’t stop bombarding your phone with calls and messages, telling them that you just wanted to rest, that they shouldn’t worry. That you’d be okay.

But will you ever be okay?

Another call hits your phone, but again you disregard it. You see the bright light of the sun slowly change into a luminescent orange spilling into your bedroom from your high-ceilinged windows, indicating that yet another day had passed by.

Steve smiles at the guests passing by him, trying to put his anxiousness at bay. He’s got his phone next to his ear, another attempt at reaching you. He’s certain you haven’t forgotten about tonight’s rehearsal dinner, raising an eyebrow at Bucky when you didn’t show up at the wedding rehearsals that morning. The simple explanation Natasha gives seems defective to his ears, but Steve couldn’t get more out of her during the whole day, the havoc wreaked from the wedding planner and their wedding crew providing him absolutely zero chance to find answers, to find you.

Soon after, he’s being directed to shower and change for tonight’s event. He should be enjoying himself, a hand wrapped around his beautiful fiancée as they enjoy what is about to happen. He should be out there talking with his guests, thanking them for coming to witness this chapter of his life. He shouldn’t be in the corner, ears glued to his phone as he tries again and again to contact you, worried to his stomach at your missing presence when again his attempts turn unfruitful.

Pocketing his phone with a grunt, he decides to take matters into his own hands. You’re one of his best friends, god damn it, and you should be here.

He looks around and his eyes land on Peggy; she’s caught up with being the hostess as she smiles brightly at people, greeting people with her friendly attitude. If he slips out now, he’ll still make it before everything actually begins. He’ll just say he wasn’t ready in time.

Just as he’s about to step out of the private ball-room, he’s stopped by a firm grasp on his shoulder.

“Where are you going? The party is that way” Bucky says, pointing a finger at the direction behind Steve. There’s a smile on his lips, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes. Steve furrows his eyebrows, looking at his oldest friend with a sceptic look.

“I’m trying to find (y/n). Something’s not right” he responds. Bucky’s grip over him falters as Steve moves, determination now settling deep in his bones to try and settle what was going on. But Bucky stops in front of him again, blocking his path.

“Natasha did say she was tired. Let her get some sleep. I’m sure everything’s fine” he babbled, trying to steer Steve back to the party.

But Steve stood his ground. Something was definitely up.

“Okay. What’s going on?” he asks. It’s rare that he finds Bucky lying or trying to hide something from him, even rare when the subject of concern is you.

Bucky’s about to say something that Steve knows will just waste his time, precious time he could use to find you instead of playing cat and mouse here in this hall. So he cuts him off.

“What’s really going on, Buck?” he asks quietly. “She hasn’t returned any of my calls. Peggy even told me she’s been missing from work for days now. So, please, just tell me what’s going on?”

He’s eyeing Bucky for a few moments, watching the cool exterior of his best friend trying to come up with an excuse plausible enough to get him back inside. But he comes up empty.

Bucky sighed, dropping his head as he ran his fingers in his hair. Natasha was going to have his head.

“Okay” he begins, clearing his throat before looking at Steve again. “Look…” he says, but he can’t find the words to say it. Steve takes in a sharp breath, because nothing good ever follows when the conversation starts off like this. It takes him mere seconds before he’s hailed a cab and telling the driver your address.

His heart is hammering against his chest as he tries to even his breathing, having ran up the stairs to your apartment, the lift taking too damn long for the patience he has right now.

He’s pressed your bell, knocked several times, but there’s just silence from your end. There’s an incomprehensible feeling in his gut, churning his anxiousness into something much more ominous. There’s a sickening sensation bubbling from his stomach when you’ve yet to answer.

“(y/n!)” he yells. He’s thankful that you own the whole floor, leaving him to pounding your door to his heart’s content. He tries repeatedly, screaming your name with each bang. He doesn’t know why he’s riled up all of the sudden.

“I’m not leaving until you open this door” he declares. Again he slams his open palm over your door hard that he swears could’ve made a hole if he’s just balled his fist instead. He’s breaths are labored, not from running up but from this simmering anger inside of him.

He’s supposed to be at a fucking dinner, not bleeding his hands at banging your door. He’s frustrated that Bucky and Natasha doesn’t seem to want to tell him anything. He’s annoyed that you’re doing this to him out of the blue, furious that you won’t open this door and talk to him. You’re on of his best friends for heaven’s sake! You should be able to tell him anything because you trust him.

“Please, (y/n). Talk to me. Help me so I can help you” he tries again, pressing his forehead on your door. He can hear movements from behind the door, the pitter patter of your foot stepping on your floor, pacing back and forth, almost debating with yourself.

The image of you in distress melts his anger, uneasiness creeping its way back to him as he tries to make sense of the whole situation. Did he do something? What happened that made you distance yourself from him? Who hurt you?

He sighs, drained from what the day had entailed. Pulling himself back, he looks at your door for a moment, trying to understand what lay behind them, before slowly backing away. He doesn’t know what else to do but to walk away. every step he took was heavy, demanding him to stop and turn, to try again. That he shouldn’t give up.

His phone rings, a familiar ringtone he’s set up specifically for Peggy, so he answers and tells her he’s on his way.

He’s hours away from being proclaimed as husband and wife, elation coursing through his body as his heart flutters at the image of Peggy walking down the aisle. Steve can’t help but let heat rise from his cheeks because Peggy would be his. He chuckles to himself, realizing that after all this time she still has that kind of control over him.

“You okay?” Clint asks, emerging from behind a partition that gave Steve privacy in his bachelor suite.

“Just excited” he tries to act casual, but he can’t hide his wide smile. Clint pats him with a grin, happy to see Steve in this light because he deserves to have this. “We’ll be outside. Have a drink with us” he proposes, then goes to let Steve be. He’s adjusting his suit, checking his cuffs and fixing his hair. He’s nervous, but the good kind.

“The man of the hour finally graces us with his presence” Tony proclaims, gesturing grandly towards Steve as he steps into the study room where all of his close friends are.

Except you.

A small frown places his smile temporarily when he doesn’t find you where you should be. He asks Sam about your whereabouts.

“Don’t know. Probably helping Peggy” was his answer, handing him a glass before filing it with Brandy. It would make sense since you’re friends with them both, even more sense when he remembers you’re the one who introduced her to everyone.

But there’s a nagging voice in his head, agitation sneaking into him like that night. He’s been restless since leaving your complex, the ride back to the rehearsal dinner filled with him texting and leaving you countless voicemails. Bucky has yet to confide to him what’s happened, leaving a cryptic code of “It’s not my place to say”, a similar response from Natasha when he asks the redhead.

“You’ll just need to hear from her, okay?”

It was wearisome the way you’re silencing yourself. He’s bear witness to your breakdowns before, has experienced this sudden push from you, but never to this extent. You would always tell him beforehand, that you need space to clear your head. But the reasons behind those breakdowns were always told, never was he ever left in the dark like this. It was unlike you and the more he thought about it, the more he wants to go and find you.

“Cheer up, man. You’re getting married” came the voice of Sam, bringing him back to the present. He downs the drink in one go, before placing the glass on top of a mahogany table. Sam’s right, he should be because today was his day.

So he ignores the restlessness that continues to plague him, talking and laughing with his friends before the ceremony begins.

Wanda knocks on their door, her had popping out from the gap when she opens it, announcing that it was near time, throwing Steve’s phone at him.

“You left this downstairs. It’s been beeping nonstop” she tells him, before leaving them. He checks it, and upon seeing only your name on his screen he moves out of the study, needing to hear from you before he completely loses to his nerves.

He clicks the voicemail you left him.

“Hey Steve”. Your voice permeates and he’s glad to hear your voice.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer you. I just needed to be sure with myself that this is something I wanted to do”

You exhale shakily, and his heart wrenches in his chest, as if telling himself to prepare for the worst.

“I can’t go to your wedding, Steve” you croak, pausing for a moment to regain some control. “I can’t go because it pains me to see you with someone who isn’t me”.

An emotionless expression sweeps his facial expression, realization gradually dawning on him. It can’t be he thinks to himself.

“I’ve loved you my whole life” you whimpered, “and you’re about to marry somebody that’s not me” you manage to continue. Steve is standing rigidly, trying his hardest not collapse at your words in this moment.

“I can’t watch you do that” you sobbed, the emotions unable to be contained anymore, your struggle to remain collected breaking like a dam.

“You deserve this. And I am so happy for you, really I am, but it absolutely breaks my heart every time I see you together. I’ve tried to suppress these feelings since junior high but it keeps coming back stronger than before” you manage to blurt, inhaling a shaky breath before continuing “I knew I fucked up the moment I decided to cower behind my door that night, but what right did I have to destroy your chance at happiness? What right do I have to ruin something so great for you?”

“So be happy, Steve. Be happy with Peggy, and treat her with the kindness and devotion you have, because you both deserve it. I’m praying for the best for you and her, because at the end of the day you’re both my friends. You’re my best friend, Steve”

“But I cannot continue living like this. I’m telling you this because I can’t face you, and I don’t think I will ever face you again” you pause, gasping for air to flow down your throat.

“Live your life, continue on and never look back. I’m sorry Steve”

He still has his phone next to his ear long after the voicemail ends. His throat is dry and he can’t seem to move, stuck in this spot as the shock washes over him.

This is not happening he tells himself. He didn’t just lose his best friend over the phone right before he gets married. No, this was a nightmare, a vivid delusion that stemmed from his fatigue, his restlessness from worrying so much, from the stress of work and the planning.

He doesn’t register the voices of his friends behind him until Bucky grabs his shoulder.

It’s then that Bucky realizes what you’ve done.

tagging: @hellomissmabel @@alphaabucky @captnbarnesrogers @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @minervaem @rotisserierogers @buckyywiththegoodhair @barnes-heaven ||  @iamwarrenspeace @memoirsofafangirl @lovely-geek @sarahp879 ||

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[sugar-petals]

02 | Cinder → pjm

↳ sequel to cygnet (m). 

SUMMARY: You have rescued Prince Jimin from the lair of robbers. But your carriage encounters a group of Prussian knights on the way back to Bavaria.

¬ PAIRING: jimin × reader ¬ GENRE: smut, angst, historical au  ¬ WORD COUNT: 8.7k

¬ WARNINGS: rated m | fingering | oral sex | sub!jimin | femdom | brat taming | cum play | ruined orgasms | punishments | assault mention | brief scene with gore

¬ A/N: The last part! That means it gets sexy 💛 Cygnet & Cinder pt.1 linked in m.list.

Some curious peasants gather behind them, trying to see past their heavy armors. The brigade kneels when you exit the carriage and beckon the tall soldier Meinhard, heading the group, to lend Anna a hand when she steps down from the coachwoman’s seat. She still limps. He has recognized her riding into the courtyard from afar already.

“It’s a pleasure,” Meinhard bows, “to see you back at Hohenzollern castle, Y/N. We will contact Queen Luise to send the doctors.”

You shake hands, both grips firm. 

“I wish we would have met under different circumstances. Is the brigade well?”

“They are,” Meinhard affirms, patting his chest armament. Polished and sturdy as ever. You miss wearing it.

“And the Queen? I hope we don’t disturb her.”

Meinhard looks pale now. In the background, other members of the brigade gather at the other end of the carriage and usher out the Prince.

“It hasn’t been easy since the King is dead. But now that you’re here. It might really cheer her up. Come, we will have something to eat and drink.”

The hall is clad in jet black banners. So is the silhouette on the throne at the other end of the room. It is so unlike Palace Linderhof. Everything, just about everything. You approach with hastened steps, passing the royal guard and Baronesses who seem to recognize you. Bowing to the Queen on the black carpet, thick and ample with the Prussian eagle imprinted on it, feels like a trip to the past. Luise emerges from the throne to step down for a greeting.

“It seems like neither of us is in good condition, Milady,” she says.

“We meet unlike the way we parted,” you stop before the throne. 

The nodding Queen’s garments are heavy on the carpet. Being eye-to-eye now, you see her tired eyes waver. Her hair has greyed almost entirely.

“I can’t believe the entire kidnapping scenario, it, just repeated itself!”

“Your doctors are skilled. I am sure they can do something for the Prince. Thank you for welcoming us so courteously.”

It had been a risk. The path to Hohenzollern was long enough, too.

“The brigade will take care of your carriage.”

“Thank you, my Queen. I hope we do not burden you. Meinhard said there are problems with the relations to Austria, too.”

“This room should not be black as it is for months. The King has passed away when the New Year began. I’m glad you’re here. The feeling is different.”

You remember. It was a long period of illness that had haunted the King ever since.

“There’s nothing wrong about grieving for as long as needed, your Majesty.”

“All the Counts and Margraves and Baronesses, everyone is telling me, Queen, you should do something enjoyable! Maybe they’re right. But I still never felt well since New Year’s Eve. And Austria is a lost game.”

“There’s a reason why you’re Queen and they are margraves,” you shrug. “Their advice might be well-natured, but I think— you need more time, Luise. Don’t pressure yourself too much. Or let yourself be pressured.”

You squint down the hall where the royal guard and nobility of Hohenzollern stand and converse.

“That is very true,” the Queen looks down on the rings adorning her hands. “All this tragedy is taking away my common sense.”

You shake your head right away.

“No ruler is perfect. Even the Duke Leopold.”

“You’ve been at Altfried Castle, Y/N?”

“Mostly for archery.”

Now, the Queen looks genuinely surprised.

“I’ve never seen you touch an arrow in the years you were here.”

“I know. The entire stay was very, I guess, unlike myself.”

She hums, thinking. The Queen’s gaze wanders over Cygnet at your belt.

“You did take up sword fighting again, did you. This blade is familiar.”

Almost by instinct, your fingers graze over the hilt.

“If it lightens up your mood, I can ask one of the margraves to test his fencing skill against Cygnet.”

“Maybe another time,” she wipes a grey strand out of her face. “I’m rather concerned that the King of Bavaria is currently falling into the same state as I am since his son is gone.”

“Meinhard has been smart enough to send a knight out to spread the word that the Prince is safe here.”

“Not a herald straight to Castle Linderhof?”

Again, you shake your head.

“Rumors and chatter travel faster than horses, your Majesty.”

The eyes of the Prussian nobles in your back feel all too palpable now. Luise seems to notice.

“I will lend you my best stallions regardless. For you, Anna, the Prince. Three of the fastest I have. You’ll be back with Albrecht in four days.”

“One stallion is enough. Only the Prince needs one. We have two horses already.”

The Queen crosses her arms. 

“Friedrich and Gretchen are slow, swordmaster.”

“They are the horses Anna and I cherish. They might be scaredy-cats, but we stick with them. They always bounce back.”

“At least a fourth horse for other things you have to carry, Y/N.”

“Good idea, my Queen.”

Because there is something of utmost importance to transport. Your barrel. 

“The Palace must be worried sick about Jimin.”

“I will take care of it, Luise,” you adjust your cuffs. “We depart to Bavaria as soon as the Prince feels capable.”

A large gathering of nobles and locals blocks the entrance of the Palace. You have to use your bow to keep some handsy peasant boys jeering at bay.

“Oh look, the Prince’s babysitter! Back in town! Saving her reputation!”

Shooing them away draws even more derision in the crowd. Other people, more enthused, throw bouquets that you wish they would rather lay down at the gate. Gretchen becomes all jittery already, flicking her ears back and forth with every pack of flowers or hats tossed by. 

You gaze across your shoulder about every five seconds to see whether Anna and Jimin manage to get through the cheering masses. Some people tug at the Prince’s clothes and laugh. You even see some servants from the Palace kitchen doing it. One of them, wearing an apron, even tries to smack Jimin’s butt from an odd angle, and almost hits the horse instead. Others, concerned, try to touch his bruises. He spurs his horse, but even more citizens flock to him.

“Prince, Prince! What happened!”

Nothing hardly moves forward until you whistle, making both Friedrich and Jimin’s horse go faster, parting the people. Even the fourth horse with the supplies and cargo finds its way, and you can be glad having secured everything in place twice. In the distance, the hysterical nobility in their best gowns comes down the center alley of the Palace garden.

The throne room is more packed than the coronation and opera ball were combined. Blue and white banners are pulled up on all sides. Murmurs oscillate from all sides. The jester cackles, sizing Jimin up.

“Why is the Prince wearing rags? Has he turned scatty? Where are his muscles?”

“Those aren’t rags. This is clothing that fulfills what it must do,” you grit at the jester. “The Duke of Altfried has let me customize them for fights. I passed them on in good honor. He was cold.”

Jimin brushes off the doctors and servants gathering around him trying to put him into a heavy purple coat with fur and pearls.

“And I’m not a Prince who’s only there to look good.”

A guilty silence spreads in the room.

“I want to wear these things,” he points at his trousers. “It doesn’t take me two hours to arrange back and forth. All that sewing and buttoning and draping and stuffing and lacing. I don’t want it.”

The servants look disoriented.

“Fine, but we’re having a festival—”

“I don’t care about your celebrations! We just arrived here! Didn’t you want to know what happened?”

The anger in Jimin’s voice makes Anna, close behind you, almost gasp out, alongside the nearby Princess.

“You have to care,” Albrecht makes his way through the mob, comes to take the Prince aside. You are close enough to hear what he says to Jimin in a low voice. “Play along. The entire palace is here.”

“Dad...”

“We’ve heard the stories of what occurred days ago. They only want to see you and talk about it. What do you think being a monarch is like. ”

“Walking around on heels and indulging gossip?”

“Very wrong,” Albrecht’s face goes into a deep frown. “Being King comes with responsibility and keeping your head up high.”

“It’s all I see you do. Heels and cake. Heels and fucking cake! And gathering people just to laugh at me. Everyone here looks dressed up like you’ve been enjoying your time while I was gone!”

The King, more and more disgruntled, lowers his voice even more, all while the Prince grows increasingly red in the face.

“Jimin. I am rather worried about our alliances if you approach the throne this way after my death. You’re not making a good impression to the people as a rag Crown Prince already. The jester... has a point.”

You can feel your heart drop just by watching Jimin react.

“Didn’t you just say it’s not about looks? All you think about is that since I came back. What’s wrong with you, father!”

“I was worried. You’ve seen how I cried when we came down the alley. And I am happy to have you back. I sent every soldier I had to get you.”

Jimin points at you, fuming.

“Then why did Y/N find me first? She didn’t even know about most of the things that happened!”

Albrecht looks defensive now.

“There is a reason why I had selected her as your personal guard. She feels when you’re in danger even kilometers away.”

The entire room is in chaos. Jimin is boiling with blank fury. 

“She left me, she left the Palace, she went to Baden-Württemberg! She wasn’t my guard anymore. And still cared more than you did, father!”

Alarm on the King’s face. His gaze shifts to you now, too.

“What has Y/N accomplished other than plunging you into misery and bragging about being first in line?”

Loud discussions in the crowd. Anna growls something behind you, now almost as angry as Jimin. Before she can speak up, you lean back towards her, stern.

“We’ll open it. Get the cargo, Anna.”

You take off the lid, displaying the content of the barrel for the masses to see. The people closest to you give immediate way, screaming. The throne room crowd becomes dense at the edges when the nobles at the center stumble backward.

When the King and Queen look at you incredulous, you turn the vessel upside down to let its content slump down on the marble ground. Two heads with two arrows each in them roll out first. And then, Steinburg’s chopped off hands. Terrified shrieks in the audience. The jester cowers behind the musicians.

You place the empty barrel firmly on the floor. 

“I’ve sullied my blade for scum like this, my King and Queen.”

“It reeks, put it back!” the jester squeals. 

Instead of doing so, you scan the rows of onlookers.

“Kitchen assistant! Come here.”

A blonde young man steps forth. Hesitant, and hunched over. He wears an apron with mittens stuffed inside the front pocket. He is the boy from the handsy crowd at the gate.

“Me?”

“Preserve these in your beer. Of the mediocre kind.”

“What!”

“I want to keep a daily reminder that nobody will lay their hands on the Prince. Now pick this shit up. Do it fast before I add you to the collection.”

Natasha plays the flute with ease so enviable that apart from the audience, even some musicians peer with intent. They find it quite outrageous and fascinating at once how the young lady taps her feet. The festival guests dance around the maypole chanting to the rhythm of the waving flags, wielded by the clarion players who seem quite content with their new task. A string quartet under an oak tree engages in a bubbly tune, with young boys from Linden town letting tambourines jingle for the finale of each song. Only few clouds in the sky.

The czarina, settled at a swan-shaped statue fountain and comely as ever in her light blue gown, watches some villagers hand out pastry and drinks. She hardly gifts you a glance, which comes as no surprise, and rather seems to have spare gazes for King Albrecht’s storytelling at the other end of the garden that constantly sends claps and cheers over. Enthused as always. The same stories, as always.

Opposite to you, Jimin sits at the pond on a blanket. With a simple beige tunic on, he chews up every bit, you stuffing him with apple dumplings and plenty of currants. May weather. A few pigeons already strut around the alley hunting for leftovers. It’s almost as if all springs and summers of Bavaria converge in one place. Manifold flowers gleam in full bloom between trees and marble statues. Jimin’s mouth is already sticky with crumbs and apple juice. 

He looks more vibrant. Fresh. The bags under his eyes have faded. He licks off your fingers and can’t help loosening the tunic around his collar bones so you can have a look at his newly gained pounds, and a muscle, trained from fencing, here and there. You indulge in ogling without much second thought, and in feeding him until—

The Queen Therese, clad in poufy vestments that resemble much of what she had worn at the last coronation, approaches. The dancers have dispersed on the field and in the forest behind the Palace already. Time passes fast at Castle Linderhof. Only the czarina still rests at the fountain while the King sits close. Natasha is nowhere to be seen. 

“Your father needs to have a talk about some things,” the Queen addresses Jimin. To your surprise, she not only turns to him. “Y/N, you will join in, too.”

Only reluctantly does the Prince rise from the blanket and pat his tunic, removing crumbs. The alley seems less bright and sunny with its roses when you walk across, eventually reaching the fountain. Too sunny.

Albrecht seems to struggle with the words when he addresses you. His beard looks more deformed than usual. He’s been twirling away at it for the entire festival despite being engaged in telling stories.

“Now that, well. Yekaterina is here,” he begins. “And we had a good time celebrating.”

Jimin shifts from one foot to the other. Not a good sign. Battle stance. The czarina looks at either of you from the corner of her eye in the meantime. The Prince keeps his head down.

“Dad, just say what you want to say. It’s about the marriage, isn’t it.”

A sigh. The King folds his elaborate blue coat to one side where it cascades down his shoulder.

“The situation is. With you, Y/N. We have to stick to either the royal lineage. Or make a political arrangement. You don’t, see, fulfill either case.”

And there it is.

“My King,” you try to cut his sermon short. Jimin ruffles his hair, frustrated already. But Albrecht continues.

“The Princess has chosen the former. The lineage. She married in the same rank, the Prince of Saxony. It is a favorable union. He’s a nice person, too. For Jimin, as you know, the Queen and I thought about the alliance with Russia. And Yekaterina is still interested.”

Jimin raises his glance to meet the King’s. He’s trying hard not to glower.

“But I am not.”

You step closer toward the King.

“Does the Prince have to marry in the first place?”

Diplomacy. 

“Geez! He will inherit the crown of Bavaria,” Albrecht says, earning another scorn from Jimin.

“Not if my sister becomes Crown Princess instead.”

Stillness at the fountain. The Queen is the first one to react.

“You reject the throne, Jimin?”

The answer is more than a firm yes seeing how hardened the Prince’s face has become.

“It’s gotten me in nothing but trouble. My sister wants it more than I do. Isn’t it!”

“The Princess is an ideal heir,” you agree. “I have no doubts she can rule Bavaria just as well. She’s said so many times that she wishes she could do it. Saxony is not a bad alliance.”

The King twirls at his beard again.

Now, the Czarina speaks.

“What trouble, my Prince?”

Accent-free German. You feel a cold tingle run down your spine at how sultry her voice is. Jimin, however, doesn’t respond. Instead, he shoves back both sleeves of his linen garment, revealing scabs and dark blue spots. Both the King and Queen wail out at the sight.

“That trouble,” Jimin says. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Is this from the ambush?” Yekaterina rises from her seat as if to inspect Jimin’s wounds up close. But he tugs down his sleeves just in time.

“It was worse than that. They did unspeakable things.”

You can see how the czarina’s curiosity in his scabs slowly changes into a realization.

“The robbers did what?!”

“Exactly what you think,” Jimin steps back from the fountain.

Yekaterina, on the other hand, turns to the king.

“Why didn’t you tell me? That’s disgusting! I’m not touching him.”

“Czarina, please,” the Queen takes her by the arm, as gentle as a feather, but to no avail. Yekaterina brushes off Therese’s hand.

“He’s weak. He even left his jewelry with the robbers. He’s walking around like this!”

She points at the Prince’s vestment as if it were a potato sack left in the kitchen corner. Albrecht seems all the more indignant.

“Czarina!”

“Look at his nanny having to take care of him like a baby. Sitting around on a blanket having a picnic. Pathetic. It was a mistake to believe the letter. I thought he was a valiant Prince.”

“Jimin is a valiant Prince!” the Queen stutters, tries to appease the Czarina Romanova anew. “You have seen him slice the apple!”

“He left his own family. That is treason in Russia.”

“Yes. I did,” Jimin gestures, “but I’ve changed my mind.”

Yekaterina rolls her eyes so blatantly, you have to suppress an all-too-familiar puking reflex.

“I saw that,” she taunts.

The King butts in with his most pacifying tone.

“Well, see it like that. This isn’t Russia, czarina. We have different standards.”

“But if we marry, it might be. Our empire is growing. Bavaria has good resources. It has the strength that Russia embodies, too.”

You tap your foot twice.

“That hubris is concerning. The czarina is beautiful. But foul-mouthed toward the Prince! Do you think he will be happy? You think Bavaria will last as it did with an alliance like that, my King?”

Albrecht strokes the back of his neck. Yekaterina gathers all of her bouffant dress and pushes Jimin and the Queen aside. Judging by her direction, she’s headed toward her chambers in the North wing.

“Wait!” Therese exclaims and tries to follow, but the Czarina is adamant in her walk.

“I see I’m still not welcome. Forget your alliance, this is war. I want a carriage to Moscow in two hours.”

The orange tint of dawn spreads on the valley like the blanket both of you share. Cinder leans close to the oven next to Cygnet, both sheathed. Jimin lies at your chest. Warm and cozy in the light of the oil lamp. You rake through his hair with your fingers, then, a wooden comb from the nightstand. Between its tender strokes through his locks — the Prince's kisses are blissful. He's hooked at your bottom lip.

The hooting owl at the window settles with her family in a tree nest close by when you hear the last servants leave the corridor. Your chamber is silent until he finally speaks.

“I never thought you’d go to Altfried Castle in those two years.”

“We had a lucky streak. The Duke was kind enough to shelter Anna and me.”

“I hope they treated you well there,” the Prince caresses your arms.

“He’s taught me a lot about when to play fair.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry I was so angry at you.”

“I didn’t behave,” Jimin sighs out, “like the most reliable either.”

“Don’t say that,” you put aside the comb. “I was in the wrong about that.”

“Should have put more pressure on mom and dad,” he speaks in a sunken voice. “With cancelling the wedding, and such.”

“You did now. Don’t beat yourself up.”

“I get why you had something against me going to Saint Petersburg. The people aren’t so nice there as I thought.”

“Bavaria values honor. Russia is about power. You’ve heard her.”

The owls are bustling outside.

“I wish I hadn’t. She will resent us so much.”

“The feeling is mutual. But let her sulk forever. You see what happens when someone tries to appease the Romanovs. It’s better to be straightforward. I wish she would respect you, too.”

“And you?” Jimin looks up now. “She called you names as well.”

“That’s part of a swordmaster’s life. Steinburg did, too.”

“The disgusting—”

“He had his schtick to call me your harlot.”

“He said that?”

“His moment of glee was rather short.”

Jimin grumbles.

“I’ve heard that he was behind the conspiracy at Hohenzollern as well. When the Duchess Walthilde was kidnapped.”

“It was an ambush back then, too,” you nod. “I’m not surprised. Steinburg has been notorious. He must have been filthy rich as well. Sold Cinder on the market. Probably other weapons, too.”

“Couldn’t hate him more.”

“The merchant who bought the sword from him was a lousy fighter.”

He sits up, arms crossed.

“Did you see him use it?!”

“Yes, against me. Was the first and last time he would wield it.”

“Oh, right. Anna said you had a duel at the castle. You won it back just like this?”

“As I said,” you laugh. “He was lousy. An easy defeat. I was stupid enough to pay him 210 mark even after I won.”

“210! I will ask the King to reimburse this!”

“Not necessary,” you shake your head. “Can’t complain about my earnings since I’m part of the royal defense again.”

“Part of the family, you mean.”

“If you think I am—

“You are,” Jimin leans back down to kiss your cheek. “They can say what they want.”

“Then that, too.”

Jimin lies down completely again. You pick up the comb once more. And continue brushing.

“There’s a specific reason I ran away from here before the robbers caught me.”

“I figured. Your parents.”

The Princes’ eyes are downcast in the lamp’s shine now.

“I didn’t think my family felt whole after you left.”

“It wasn’t really leaving,” you bring the comb down the sides of his hair. “Leaving means dignity. I climbed down the tower and got shelter in Linden town. I sent a herald to Anna, she came with the two horses, we rode to Altfried Castle. It was the least appropriate goodbye.”

“That sounds graceful compared to what I did.”

“What happened, my Prince?”

Again, you cease to comb.

“It was with an empty food carriage. We had a banquet the day before. I didn’t feel well.”

“Oh...”

“They had delivered bread and potatoes. I sneaked into the vehicle at dawn. I didn’t even know where it was going. I didn’t say goodbye to anyone. We had a huge fight, dad and I. During the banquet.”

“What was the fight about?”

His tone sounds stern enough to be alarming.

“You.”

The comb slips from your fingers and lands on the mattress.

“I don’t... want to stay here, Jimin. This place is not good for us.”

“I know. Me neither. But I don’t think they’ll let us go.”

“They can’t force us. And the King already knows that I don’t like being at the Palace.”

“But where should we go to? Saxony? I don’t know a place where they will accept us when we split with mom and dad like that. The fight at the banquet drove us apart enough already.”

“It’s not a split,” you exhale. “We just have to get away from all of this for some time. I left the Palace, then you did. Actions speak volumes about where your priority is.”

A sentence from the Golden Lesson. He had still memorized it.

“Yeah. It’s not here.”

The Palace is the last place where you want to linger.

“Now we have a chance to leave together before they start with their marriage thing again. I don’t want it. I’m not a Crown Princess. Much less a Queen. It’s not me.”

“Me neither. Crown Prince. King, I mean.”

“They probably try to kick me out anyways. You’ve heard what Albrecht said.”

“The lineage or alliance thing.”

Annoyance flashes across his features at the mere words.

“Yes. They’ll try to get rid of me soon enough. Anna overheard a conversation of the equerry this morning. The Queen is packing for a journey to Austria.”

“Really, what? Austria?” 

Jimin looks panicked.

“She is looking for ‘suitors’. I didn’t understand it at first, either.”

“They want me to marry Austrian royalty now!”

“Not too loud, my Prince!”

“I loathe them.”

“I don’t like the Austrian nobles either.”

They had plunged Queen Luise into more grief than necessary with their endless claims to Hohenzollern.

“My parents, I mean. Don’t care about what goes on in Vienna. I need to get away from Albrecht, he’s behind this. I hate him.”

The oil lamp flickers much like the eyes of the Prince.

“We can’t go to Saxony. But maybe, back to Hohenzollern. They have treated us the kindest. I thought we were welcome there.”

“I never thought about this.”

“We can— keep her good company. Luise”

Jimin negates fast. His voice is fragile.

“Therese... will want to get me back.”

“Then she will fail trying.”

Applause from the small round. Luise signs the document with a telling smile. One servant comes to pick up the scroll on swift feet after the seal wax has dried, leaving the throne room empty except the three of you. You catch Jimin mustering your brigade armor about every other second while Luise rises from the table.

“Off to Saint Petersburg it goes,” the Queen remarks, and screws tight her ink cartridge.

“You’re a blessing, Luise. Really.”

“I’ve been friends with Prime Minister Dmitriy for almost two decades,” she shrugs, assorting her writing feathers with lenience on the table. “He will understand.”

“He will?”

“According to him, the Czarina is having a lot of tantrums since the question of an arranged marriage came up.”

“Well, I can understand that,” you reply. All too well, in fact. “Just hoping that she didn’t really mean war when she said it.”

“Let that be my worry, Y/N. Hohenzollern has always had better ties to Russia than Bavaria.”

Jimin’s exasperated look only affirms the Queen’s statement.

“And— what do we do about my parents?” he brings forth while you turn toward the end of the throne room that opens into the royal garden. A bit languid, and Luise follows. You still feel a bit stiff in the armor, but you can feel how it melts onto your body already like it used to do.

“They’ll show up here,” Luise says. And you know it. Sooner or later. "But they won't complain when they see that you've found a purpose here."

"A purpose?" Jimin asks, catching up on the way outside.

"The brigade, Y/N will be busy recruiting soldiers again. It's like when she started. And we have more good news."

"Oh?"

"Natasha will spend half the summer here. I heard you're fond of her."

The youngest in House Romanov. You haven’t heard of her in ages. But the image of her dancing at the maypole festival is vivid in your mind.

"Natasha!"

"Yes. She wants to familiarize herself with Germany. A very inquisitive, headstrong girl."

"She really persuaded her parents, didn't she."

"Quite so. Well. The Premier minister does have, you see, interest in stronger ties to our county."

Jimin looks completely caught off guard. You're not surprised. Bavaria's relationship to the czar family had been dealt far too many blows.

"The entire House of Romanov?"

"Yes. Natasha had an easy time requesting to stay here."

"I like her," you reply. The garden terraces open up around you now, and Jimin steps into the pathways between apple trees framing the area. He is off to pick up some of the fruit in no time, while you walk toward the main terrace of the garden with the Queen. 

"Don't teach her archery all too soon," Luise twinkles from the corner of her eye. "You can do the melee with the Prussian Barons first. There are some Margraves who want to challenge you for fencing, I heard."

"Cheers, I take that one. It will be entertaining, surely."

In the distance, Jimin wanders about collecting apples, and you complement Luise on her new bright yellow gowns that blend into the garden landscape almost seamlessly. 

The onset of a late afternoon brings two knocks on your chamber’s door. Still feet. And waiting.

"Come on in!"

A second later, Jimin's head peeks through the frame. His hair is neatly led out. Natasha, prancing around as always, had teased him until he let her brush it in the morning. 

Jimin coos.

"Not climbing today.”

You beckon him across the room from your seat. He sways over in his far-too-long night blue gown, giving him the semblance of the water nymphs in childhood fairy tale books.

It catches his eye almost instantly— the weaving loom. Not too large, just wide enough to fill one corner of your chamber with it. Jimin seems to already guess what you're doing.

"I'd weave it," you let your digits glide through the nimble threads, "for your birthday if it wasn't in October."

The Prince, however, is hypnotized. He didn't hear.

"That looks complicated."

You tilt your head from side to side. Chuckling a little.

"Anna showed me. And nothing is more intricate than fencing anyways."

He keeps on pacing around the loom, eyeing its frame and the colorful yarns splayed out before you. The freshly polished brigade armor perched at the other side of the room doesn't seem to faze him just one bit for once.

"Is it something like a banner?"

"Almost."

"Hm. That pattern looks familiar. Coat of arms there?"

He points two digits at the loom's end where an outline begins to form, made from suave yarn.

"Similar to the neckerchief, you see. It's like a scarf."

Frozen. Jimin seems to be struck by lightning.

"Oh!"

"It's just... Made with the Hohenzollern emblem. New home, new coat of arms."

You twirl the threads anew for the next row, striking a flaxen tone in the pattern. A step on the pedal of the loom lifts the frame for you to glide the sliding shuttle through. It doesn't come very far. The Prince puts his hands around your torso from behind.

First, you can only hear him sniffle, however silent, and you think he might have a cold. But then, he starts to tremble. 

The Prince is crying.

"I don't deserve this," Jimin sobs, making your shirts’ collar feel damp already by rubbing his eyes against it. "Why do you do all this for me!"

The sliding shuttle goes back to its former place among the resting bowl of yarn. You turn, facing the Prince with earnestness.

"Hey. Cause I want to. Simple as that."

Jimin sniffles.

"Really?"

"Swordmaster's promise. Okay."

"But—"

"I don't care if you feel undeserving. I do what I do. With all due respect, my Prince."

The loom chair creaks a little when you lift from it. Jimin doesn't let go from his hug for a minute, or more. You take time rearranging his gown crease by crease so he can walk properly despite the long hem. Most of the chamber servants still aren't used to finding clothes for him each morning. The overly decorated ones he rejects, while the casual gowns in stock don't really fit his small build. Therese has already requested a tailor.

"It's just. I still can't grasp these things. That we're here."

"Believe it or not. We have a spot to settle."

"I, I like it here."

He eases into your touch more than ever now.

"Do you remember our first meeting?"

"'Course I do."

The Prince's feet are slack while walking, so you guide him up-close toward the bed to sit at the soft edge.

"I don't think we ever had a better mock duel than that one," you say, sitting down just an inch next to him.

"True."

You do recall the second time at the ball, where the Czarina would cast the fateful apple. Looking back, this duel seems far away compared to the first one, even if you had met at Hohenzollern half a decade ago. 

"That was back when I enjoyed tournaments."

"I was a little hellbent," Jimin wipes his nose, descending into your lap. 

"Oh, you wouldn't believe how much prejudice I had myself."

"Yeah, I know."

"Haughty Prince Bavaria coming all the way just to prove his fencing skill."

"I wasn't that bad!"

"You weren't."

He wasn't.

In fact, the Prince had won your favors in the duel under Queen Luise's watchful eye. You had led the brigade since years of earlier adolescence. Plenty of hands-on experience. Nevertheless, Prince Jimin had been a passionate opponent trying to claim his spot first in line. He had been daring. Rebellious. Things turned out different. He lost, but you had gifted him a mentorship. It surely wasn't the dire consequence he had feared when you pinned him to the ground at the unrelenting tip of Cygnet. King Albrecht approved. A guard for the Prince was an ideal compensation for his loss. 

"Was it the footwork?"

"Yes. That impressed me."

It really did. You had to make him your disciple. Even Luise agreed that it was almost inevitable given how eager Jimin was. The Prince's blade, Cinder, forged in the Alps, had been compelling, his stance elegant, his face a refreshing sight. Almost rare. His body sculpted and so unlike everyone at the brigade.

And so, you left Hohenzollern Castle, and headed toward the bustling heart of Bavaria. Linderhof Palace had been too beautiful not to stay. The Prince's parents had been kind.

"We both had better reputations back then, I guess."

"Sure did. But we weren't as happy."

The glance you level at him conveys more than just a simple 'Don't you think?'. Jimin, albeit still teary-eyed, looks more determined.

"I want to be as happy as when we first crossed blades."

You shake your head right away.

"Don't be a square, my Prince."

And he's incredulous.

"What do you mean?"

"We will be much happier than that."

Now, the Prince looks so bashful that even the red light of dusk from the windows feels like a faded color by comparison.

"A lot of promises tonight, Y/N."

"Yes, that's my second one."

"Did you drink wine today, eh?"

"Don't you tease. Bodyguards don't chug booze. Always alert."

"Who knows. Luise has one of the best vineyards and vintners of the county."

"If you don't believe me, you can have a taste and judge for yourself."

You fondle at the sides of his garment, delighting in the blush.

"A... test?"

"Yes, a test."

"Fair enough. Let me see how drunk you are, swordmaster."

Pressing his torso against yours elicits a soft curve to his spine. Your grip is tight on his waist. Jimin doesn't spend much time just exploring your lips with his. His nervous tongue dares a much steeper dip the more you lean in. He does twirl around, as if searching, probing. Jimin is needy. 

Your bodies calibrate already. They're used to it, from training. Your hands preoccupy themselves with massaging his upper arms. To release the last bit of tension. To soften them up. Jimin keeps on circling his tongue against yours, not leaving out an inch to send a gentle tingle down your neck. He knows how to please. You explore his mouth with your tongue all the more fervent and look him in the eye. You’re yearning, too. 

When he withdraws to catch a breath, you have to take several seconds not to stumble over your own words. 

"Is the test over?"

"A kiss is not enough, my honorable dame. If you allow."

“Indeed?”

“I want to do more than just prove myself.”

His tone piques your interest all the more now.

"I'm listening."

"Cinder... is not the only proper sword I have. I'm applying for lessons, Y/N."

His eyes are like gleaming coals in the rays of sunlight from the horizon.

"Sounds like a nice blade to fit my taste."

"You can claim it yours if you want, Master."

"Not spending a single mark on it, I tell you that."

Jimin laughs with his whole body. You are glad to see him relaxed.

"Gotta be thrifty now that you blew out the entire budget."

"Hey, you brat. That was more than worth it," you recline into the mattress. The silky pillows give you a warm greeting. Jimin makes sure that his blue robe doesn't tangle any more than it already does around his ankles when he slides toward the center of the bed himself.

"What are you in the mood for, then?"

He scoots even closer, settling on a pillow himself. His profile is stark against the sun.

"I've heard you crook a finger nowadays, my Prince."

"You want to see if that's true, don't you. Might be a little awkward, still."

"Hence the lessons."

"Right."

“Then prepare yourself, disciple.”

After loosening its cord just enough, you shove down the hem of your pants a little. Jimin rebalances on the pillow, now leaning toward your face. Another kiss. The test is indeed not over. And gladly so.

His right hand, and of course, he takes the more trained one, snakes down your belly. Nowhere near as nonchalant as it would during practice with sabers, gripping handles and blocking attacks. Jimin couldn’t be more on edge. 

"First part of the lesson is dancing."

"Dance?"

"Keep on moving. Stay fluid."

"Yes, Milady."

Jimin loosens his wrist before tracing around. He finds the right spot between your labia waiting for him, continues the movement. The touch of his fingers comes as a sentiment of deep, pleasing relief to your abdomen.

"You dance well, Prince."

"Just following the instructions."

"You want a second trick, hm."

He doesn't have to answer. The stimulation between your legs is just enough to reply.

"The clo—Agh! So good."

"Could it be removing some garment?"

"Yes, Jimin."

The night blue gown soon hangs off the edge of the bed, grazing the floor. It almost looks like a waterfall bumbling from the mattress. Your own pants soon join. Jimin is careful to remove them without doing away with the cord, or crumpling up the underwear.

"Alright."

"That was elegant."

"Stop flattering me, master."

"Have all the reasons to."

Jimin knows what you mean given that your gaze has wandered south on his body's delicate map.

"I, uh," he fumbles around your loins again, resuming what he started, mumbling along.

"Shh."

You reach where the sun tangents his hips yourself now, weighing and stroking. It is easy to pump up and down given how subtly curved and much like a saber's handle his cock is. Jimin didn't lie about proper.

He's whimpering.

"Do you... like how it feels?"

"You're in good form, Prince."

He's candid in the dusk illuminating the window. You stroke him more.

"I was— worried."

"I know, Prince. No more need to. We take it easy."

He emanates a sweet scent for you to take in. Since your joint arrival at Hohenzollern, he has found and frequented the bath behind the garden chapel a lot after training when most of the regulars were busy having a meal. Maybe it’s the smell of apples, too. 

"Sword's got stable grip."

Shifting close, you begin rubbing his shaft between either of your legs. He's warm. Flustered. And pliant under your guidance. The arousal peaks with him fondling across your pubes. But Jimin, after a series of rubs, gently brushes off your hand from his cock.

"Y/N. The last thing I want is knock you up. Your armor can’t fit a baby bump."

You have to catch yourself.

"Goodness. Jeez. Y—yes. Yes, right."

"That's not for us."

“Sorry. I got carried away. Your dick is so pretty.”

“It belongs to you now.”

His hands linger at your thighs. Jimin’s cheeks are tinted with deep blush.

"Maybe another kiss is for us," you say, spreading your legs further and slowly tugging him in by the neck. 

"Oh yes, my dame. Oh yes."

Prior to kneeling between your legs, Jimin pushes his hair back. It obstructs his eyes yet again when he leans down, putting either lip tightly around your clit. He's sucking and licking against it, calmer now. You take it as your task to hold Jimin's bangs out of his face yourself in the meantime. The waves of heat sparking from his mouth couldn't be any more soothing.

"Tastes like apple," Jimin mumbles into you.

"Oh, really?"

"Apples in May. Something like that."

There it is. The infamous eyebrow play again. You’ve missed it.

He goes on licking. Never ceases to lift his bottom lips from your labia. You exhale from what feels like beyond your diaphragm.

"Not, not too much, Jimin. Slow down."

"Am I doing it wrong?"

"No, no, I just... We haven't even started. Don't do the eyebrow thing. You drive me fucking wild."

"What, my eyebrows? Don't get it."

"You never noticed?"

"What's up with them?"

"They do this, this sexy thing when they go up."

"Um, like that?"

He's wiggling and cocking them up.

"Don't! Jesus Christ!"

He really is a brat.

"Maybe you can let my hair fall down again."

You deem that a very good idea. Especially since Jimin has more space to thrust his head in reverse. Your brain turns mushier by the minute Jimin's tongue starts to dip, leaving wet traces wherever it ventures. You pull him in further at the nape of his neck. 

"You're beautiful, Prince," is the only coherent phrase that your mind barely constructs. The way he bobs his head is like a perpetual nod. “I love it when you serve me.”

"Too good," he murmurs between sucks, fully taking in your taste, your warmth.

"You are too good. Who are you kidding. Fuck, Jimin."

His hands are slowly roaming around your abdomen.

"I've lost two and a half years with you," the Prince nips alongside your inner thighs now. "Got no chance to mess around. You can't imagine how many times I need to do this to make up for that."

"We took mighty long."

"I thought about this every night."

"Tell me."

He stops, props himself up. With a wet chin. And still, a high-strung voice.

"It was— So indecent. Dirty, almost."

"Huh? Loud sex in the barn?"

Jimin laughs.

"Not that indecent!"

"Not?"

"Filthy in a way, ah, it was really... fucking like rabbits. You were rough with me, and. And I liked it."

His tone is exasperated from going down on you, but still laced with tempting.

"You call that dirty? I've heard stories at Castle Altfried, nothing compares."

"I can imagine."

"Someone admitted to masturbating underneath a banquet arrangement. Hidden by just the tablecloth."

Jimin huffs out.

"Yikes! Perverted."

"One maiden said she had sex with one of the local knights in the church. They could hear the priests rehearse while he came inside."

The Prince scratches his head.

"That'll be a, uh, holy baby."

"The Duke himself was rumored to own something like a torture chamber where he could be strapped to furniture."

Jimin almost stumbles over his own words.

"To, torture chamber!"

You shake your head with vehemence.

"Not exactly one with spikes and gadgets. I asked the Duchess about it. She said it's just for playing around."

"What playing around could that have been?"

"Something," you twirl at his bangs, "like we did during training. Making you sweat a little more for a lesson."

The Prince understands almost immediately.

"Endurance training? Didn't do that in a whole while."

"Many things to catch up with."

"Is it that endurance gives me your favors, Milady? You were liking it when I was hanging off your window."

Oh well. You really did.

"I like it when you're honest about what you want."

And he does have your favors.

"Tell me yours, I tell you mine."

"I want just one thing served on a silver plate."

The Prince seems to ponder for one second more after he opens his mouth to speak.

"Commitment?" he thus asks, and makes sure to meet your eye even through the curls in his face.

"That's the golden plate, not the silver one. The silver plate is for your cute ass."

Jimin can't help but flush again.

"You can pinch it."

"I'll make an entire picnic out of that. That's not going to be just pinching."

"Are you sure you aren't the perverted one, Y/N?"

Jimin twinkles.

"I admit to it," you reply.

"So is there a bronze plate also? You sound like you have many of those."

"Bronze plate's for your cum."

"Freshly served?"

"All milked out. Mixed with my spit."

"You want to—"

Yes, you do.

"Lay down, my Prince. Keep your hands above your head."

Swift, Jimin reclines. You can see how bulging his neck veins are.

"Fresh out the bath," he says, splaying his hands against the bed frame.

"You smell good."

Once Jimin holds onto frame properly, you level above his crotch. His stiffening cock responds to your hands working the base and perineum, and your mouth propping at its tip after carefully aiming to take him in at the right angle.

"Oh shit—"

The Prince almost jolts up. Not only does he smell good. Jimin tastes just as nice. Panting, making his hands tug against the frame where he holds onto it, all you hear is his blissed out sighing.

“Keep your hips still, Jimin,” you scold, cock half in your mouth. “Naughty Princes get punished for moving.”

Slicking your lips down his perky shaft comes with an overly sloppy, awkward noise. You look up to meet his eyes seeing if you haven't thoroughly embarrassed yourself, but his lids are shut.

You figure sloppy isn't a bad thing. Making use of the saliva pooling between your lips, you suck in Jimin's cock a bit deeper. Letting it rest on your tongue for a moment makes the Prince fidget. Hollowing your cheeks out only fortifies your suction on him, and make the tremble of his legs palpable under your torso. He fights hard not to move his hips. 

The throbbing between your legs is still heated. You reach with one hand to stimulate, the other pumping Jimin's bubbly dick hard. Rubbing him comes with more sighs and commentary until your tongue becomes sticky at its back. Pre-cum. You can't blame him for being the early bird.

Little curses.

Outside, the sun melts into the horizon line.

Much as if Cygnet would call you to find a good manual hold, the jerking hand eventually transfers into a smoother rhythm than before. You have to be careful not to bite down on him given how unpredictable your jaw has become, so loose. Knowing that Jimin is all too close, you decide to have some fun edging him through it.

"How's it going over there, disciple," you pop off. And let your nails dig into his balls. 

"Ah!"

"I've seen and heard a lot of things in life but a Prince without proper grammar?"

Delivering another firm squeeze brings back a spike of pleasure jolting through his limbs.

"Nnh—!"

You keep on squeezing. He's whiny. His hips buck. You can feel that he's on edge, too far, with steep highs and lows of his ribcage. 

Bit after bit, after a final firm caress stopping short just before his peak, Jimin's cock eventually spurts out a milky thread over his stomach. Almost like a fountain. The rest of his cum only leaks out ruined in scarce bits, making Jimin beg, and whine, and groan his soul out. 

“Look at you, brat,” you flick against his balls grinning, and go on milking out his jizz. “How do you like that. Your hips moved.”

“Shit...! Oh god...”

Licking off parts of it from his stomach gives you the satisfaction of tasting him once again. Hot, and even stickier. He's left such an adorable mess. You leave gentle strokes alongside his torso.

"My wonderful Prince," you smile, watching Jimin in his afterglow. Exhausted, faint, but happy. “You like punishments, do you.”

A nod. He drools. Your gaze is fiery.

"We have to— work on endurance," he says. "So much about you defeating me."

"Got the elegance down already. We're only getting started."

"Can you," he brings his hands down toward your arms. "Kiss me hard, please."

You lean over, letting a trickling bit of semen melt into Jimin's mouth. Letting it smother all over his lips is twice the delight feeling how plush they are. Jimin's fingers sneaking, then dipping into your core comes at the guidance of your own hands, making the kisses even sweeter to taste.

The wave of heat following his soft rubs opens your mouth wider for Jimin to twirl his tongue in until your shivering body fades into the pillows where he hugs you. The last bit of stimulation brings you over the edge devouring the taste of his mouth and biting down on his lips hard until your orgasm subsides with slower contractions. Jimin has licked your mouth clean now. He is jittery at your chest. Clinging. You pull the bed’s yellow blanket over and whisper to him. Ruffle his hair. Cling back tight, and breathe in the apple scent of his skin. 

"That was delicious," you kiss his forehead. “You royals astound me every day.”

The little treats are spiked with bright decor, almonds, and cream. Jimin balances four of them on his porcelain plate, maneuvering through the queue at the buffet. The people step aside wondering how the Prince of Bavaria could walk around with just a simple ensemble of gauze and strangely ruffled hair.

"You're not wearing the armor?" he asks, settling back at the table next to you and Natasha. "The entire brigade does!"

Indeed— your belt is empty, too. Cygnet's missing weight at it makes you fond, but maybe, a bit uneasy. You're still getting used to it.

The people around carry plates to their own tables set up in the chapel's yard while you cast the Prince a gaze a little smug, tempting him to guess. He sits down on the swirly metal chair confounded enough not to put his meal down, staring at you, then the treats with a bland expression.

"Well, uh."

In the meantime, Luise converses with the Russian Prime Minister and Duke Leopold at the adjacent table. A few maidens pass by, carrying giant baskets with flowers and mugs with juice. Jimin is still guessing until Natasha wildly gestures toward the yard where a few violin players rehearse.

"Y/N dance with Prince!" she points. Now, Jimin seems to realize.

"Right!"

"Have you ever seen the brigade dance in full gear? That looks hilarious."

"Oh yeah. I figure they'd be slower and bump into everybody," the Prince finally puts his plate down. But before he can take a bite, Natasha slips from her own seat and starts teasing him. The Prince ends up with even more ruffled hair, attracting the confused stares of the musicians.

Natasha builds herself up and proclaims: "Look! Prince is fluffy puppy!"

In the meantime, you cut the quarter loaf of bread on your plate into generous pieces, then butter them up.

"I'm afraid we got ourselves a bully, my Prince," you chuckle, and make sure to end with a wink toward Natasha.

"Happens," the Prince says, and eventually indulges himself eating. "I'm rather worried about my dancing steps."

"Might be a little rusty, you mean?"

"The last celebration was two months ago. Might need some time."

Natasha plops down on her seat, playing with the new woven scarf she had so nonchalantly removed from Jimin's neck.

"I mean, that’s fair,” you say. “I like fair!"

"Me, too.” 

“And hey, we can just do fencing steps anyway."

Thank you for reading! 🍎

Do not repost, translate, or modify my works. © submissive-bangtan 2017-2019. All rights reserved. 

[paradiqms]

(9) to you, 2000 years from now.

hongjoong x fem!reader.

tags: angst, captain!hongjoong, royalty!reader, betrayals, misunderstandings, mentions of death, cruelty, fluff here n there, fantasy setting, strangers to lovers to enemies to..?

summary: after the death of your parents and near fall of your kingdom, you have no choice but to leave your first love in order to keep the kingdom in balance with you as the new ruler. years later, you see a familiar face - but instead of being in your arms, he's kneeling in front of the guillotine.

word count: 5.4k

networks: @cromernet

currently, nine out of ?

previous.

evening comes faster than you had expected. you had lost track of time during your impromptu café hopping session with wooyoung and san, trailing behind the two pirates as they tried every tester they could get their grubby hands on and convincing you to try them out as well. as unsettling as eridanus is, you couldn’t help but admit that their pastries are rather tasty.

maybe, you had pondered while trying another tester. i can ask for some to be sent to pyxis when i return.

‘when’ is quite a… hopeful choice of words, you realize after a minute.

it’s more of an ‘if’. if you ever return to your home kingdom, because a nagging piece of your consciousness is reasonable enough to put some sense into you that a certain cold hearted pirate captain might not be kind enough to let you live when you serve no use to him anymore. what exactly does he plan to do with you after the whole map reading ordeal is finished? you haven’t got the slightest clue.

the sound of crackling fire is the only thing that’s keeping you from being swallowed in complete silence. after keeping your promises to meet up during sunset, seonghwa had led you and the other two pirates towards the inn that hongjoong had rented for his crew to rest in. it’s a quaint, unassuming piece of stone architecture that stands a mere two-stories, located by the edge of eridanus’ city.

“head right in,” seonghwa had instructed once you arrived by the wooden door. “i’ll go find yunho and mingi.”

that exchange was approximately twenty minutes ago. 

you can see hongjoong’s growing frustration quite clearly, the bright orange flame from the fireplace illuminating his features perfectly for you to see the way his jaw clenches and the deep frown he has on his lips.

“what’s taking them so damn long?” the captain groans, folding his arms over his chest as he leans backwards against the stone wall behind his seat. the dusty air is tense, and you can only fiddle with your fingers underneath the table in front of you while no one else dares to answer hongjoong’s exasperated question. you can feel san shift from one foot to another from his spot behind your seat, the young man opting to stand instead of sitting down like his bright red haired friend who seems a tad more relaxed compared to the others within the cramped common area of the inn.

there’s a sudden creak of an opening door, and everyone within the room turns their heads towards the source of the sound. you’re expecting to see the three men that you’ve been expecting to arrive almost half an hour ago, but instead, you’re met with the sight of a young woman.

the woman carries a tray with her, one that appears to have six pieces of porcelain cups neatly arranged atop. her gown seems simple and modest, colored in a dark brown that’s appealing to the eyes and contrasting with the clean, white apron that’s tied around her middle. you squint in an attempt to make out her features, but due to the poor lighting within the dark inn, you can’t see much of her face.

“good evening,” she greets, voice light and easy on the ears. “i see that the rest aren’t here yet.”

there’s a gentle chuckle coming from someone, and much, much to your surprise, you turn your head back forward just to be greeted with a smiling captain, dark eyes focused on the young woman who just came in.

“unfortunately.” hongjoong sighs. “but i can’t blame them entirely, it’s been a while since we’ve docked here.”

“they’ve gone sightseeing, i suppose?” the woman responds with a playful lift in her tone as she approches closer, and once she steps into the light from the flame in the fireplace, you can clearly see the way she returns hongjoong’s smile.

“they went to get drunk.” wooyoung claims from his spot.

“did they?��� the woman tilts her head to raise an eyebrow at the red haired pirate. “hard to believe, since i would’ve expected you to follow them, wooyoungie.”

wooyoungie? you blink, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“i don’t drink on the job.” wooyoung huffs.

“lies,” you hear san butt in from behind you. “i have enough dirt on you to prove otherwise.”

“sannie, don’t be mean.” the woman scolds, her attention now on the pirate behind you.

a muscle twitches on your face. san is right behind you, and if she were to look at him, she would definitely notice you as well. however, that doesn’t seem to be the case, since she doesn’t spare you a single glance before deciding to place one of the cups from the tray that she’s been holding on top of hongjoong’s table.

“i made some tea for everyone.” she continues to smile at the captain, who returns it with one of his own a little too naturally for your liking. hongjoong mumbles a quick thanks before the woman turns to place another cup on wooyoung’s table, and then one more on your table.

“and this,” she says, eyeing the man behind you once again. “is for sannie.”

it takes all the strength you have not to grimace as she turns to walk away from your table, but before she does, you clear your throat.

“excuse me,” you speak. “i think you’re missing someone.”

the woman finally lets her gaze fall onto you, and the confused look on her face seems as if she’s questioning your entire presence within the inn.

“oh,” she blinks before gesturing towards hongjoong. “i’m sorry, but i only made tea for the gentleman over there and his friends.”

someone scoffs rather loudly, but you decide to ignore it. you’re not given the chance to respond to the woman by saying ‘hey, i came here on their damn ship, too.’ before hongjoong decides to butt in.

“she’s part of the crew,” the captain points out. “it would be appropriate for you to offer her some tea as well.”

there’s a beat of silence that follows hongjoong’s words, one that you can only describe as painfully awkward. the way that the woman’s sickening sweet smile fades away for the quickest moment doesn’t go unnoticed by your eyes, but before the others could catch on, she’s back to her cheery expression.

“i see,” she says as her hands place another cup on your table. “i apologize, i just didn’t expect for the pirate king to recruit a woman onto his ship.”

the woman doesn’t lift her fingers from the rim of the cup even after she places it down onto the wooden table. instead, she keeps her gaze on you for a moment, eyes scanning you from top to bottom. you return her stare, jaws clenched and teeth chewing on the innerside of your bottom lip. 

“especially one that looks rather… unbefitting for life at sea.” she continues as she removes her hand from the cup.

“trust me,” you decide to play along, reaching over to grab the porcelain cup and pull it closer to you. “i didn’t have much say in it either. if you’d like any more details, feel free to ask wooyoungie over there.”

as you sip on your tea, the sound of wooyoung spluttering on his drink reaches your ears, and you can’t help the satisfied smile from growing on your lips as you watch the woman’s own smile falter.

nobody gets the chance to say anything afterwards when the front door of the inn is suddenly flung open, the wooden material slamming against the stone wall with enough force that could easily break the sctructure. the legs of someone’s chair screeches against the cold floor, and you don’t bother to turn around and figure out whose, because the sight before your eyes is one that’s hard to break away from.

“sorry for the delay,” seonghwa says from his spot by the doorway. “i had some… issues while looking for these two imbeciles.”

issues seems to be quite an understatement. what you and the others within the room are looking at is more of a whole mess - seonghwa and mingi currently have their arms wrapped around a seemingly unconscious yunho, his head hanging low as he’s dragged inside by the other two men. someone whizzes pass your table to reach the trio, and you watch as the woman fusses over yunho’s unresponsive state.

“is he hurt?” she questions, her tray of teacups placed somewhere else, giving her the chance to place her hands on yunho’s cheeks to lift his head up, allowing her and the rest of the people in the room to get a good look at his face thanks to the light from the fireplace.

“no,” mingi breathes out. “just drunk beyond saving.”

“called it.” wooyoung decides to comment from afar, earning himself a hard glare from seonghwa that immediately shuts the younger pirate up.

“what the hell happened?” hongjoong steps closer, no longer comfortably seated.

“yunho and i decided to go for a few drinks while waiting for sunset,” mingi explains as he follows the woman towards a vacant seat, carefully placing yunho down. “i didn’t think he’d go overboard and get himself this drunk.”

“bullshit.” hongjoong scowls. “what’s with the cuts on your faces, then?”

you feel your heart drop to your stomach the moment you heard hongjoong’s words, and only now do you notice the small slashes and grazes on all three of their skin. you’re unable to see very clearly due to the lighting and the fact that they’re seated quite far from your own spot, but you hope that it’s nothing too serious. 

mingi doesn’t respond this time, opting to look somewhere else and keep his eyes low as if he’s avoiding his captain’s angry gaze. sensing the fact that he won’t answer him, hongjoong turns to look at seonghwa instead, trusting that his quartermaster would be sensible enough to offer him a more truthful story.

“... bar fight.” seonghwa responds in one breath. “i don’t know how it started, but i heard the commotion and went to check it out. lo and behold, i caught these two fighting for their damn lives against some thugs and one of them knocked yunho out. i came in and got them out before anything else could happen.”

the room turns quiet once again. the woman decides to exit the room in a hurry, mumbling about getting something to clean the wounds with. you’re expecting for hongjoong to get angry and lecture the trio for being reckless, spewing stuff about how they should know better and not cause any unnessecary trouble.

to your surprise, he doesn’t.

the woman comes back into the room several moments later, and she carries with her a basket that you can safely assume contains a bunch of supplies to clean the open wounds. she settles the basket on top of the table, and you can hear the glass bottles that most porbably contain alcohol clinking against each other.

as she places her hand under seonghwa’s chin to lift his face up and inspect his cuts better, her own face mere inches away from his, you suddenly can’t watch anymore.

the way you quickly look away doesn’t go unnoticed by a certain captain.

“yoona.” hongjoong calls out, and the woman turns to face him.

ah, you note. so that’s her name.

“would you be so kind as to escore the rest of the crew to their rooms? i need to talk with these three for a moment.” hongjoong flashes a quick smile, and yoona obeys diligently. 

“of course.” she says, letting go of seonghwa’s face before gesturing for you, san, and wooyoung to follow her. you do exactly that, lifting yourself off from your seat and trailing behind the other two pirates as they follow yoona up the small wooden stairs that lead to the second floor.

yoona explains how three of the boys will share one room, and another three will share another one.

“as for you,” she refers to you without even turning to look you in the eyes. “i didn’t expect an extra guest, so you will have a seperate room for yourself.”

“brilliant.” you respond. yoona doesn’t say anything any further as she hands you the keys to your room, hastily making her way back down to the common area afterwards.

you feel yourself let go of a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding as soon as yoona is out of frame. the silver keys are cold to the touch, and you waste no more time before shoving them into the keyhole of your designated room, wanting nothing more than to rest.

just as you hear the click of the door unlocking, someone whistles behind you.

“looks like you’ve got some competition, your highness.” wooyoung’s voice reaches your ears. you’re glad that you have your back turned against him, because it gives you all the freedom to roll your eyes as hard as you can without his knowledge.

“bold of you to assume that i care.” you respond, offering no further words as you turn the doorknob before pushing the door open.

“really?” wooyoung steps closer, his shoes clicking against the wooden panel floors. “not even when she’s making googly eyes at the captain?”

your fingers tighten their grip around the doorknob as you suck in a deep breath, exhaling slowly afterwards in an attempt to calm yourself down. with a strained smile plastered on your lips, you turn around to face the red haired pirate.

“no. now go to your room, jung wooyoung.”

“wow, you sound like seonghwa now.” the cheeky grin on wooyoung’s face merely grows as he continues. “ah, i get it! you’re not jealous since you’ve got eyes on-”

“goodnight!”

wooyoung’s taunts are promptly cut off by the sound of your door slamming shut right in his face. you can hear his cackles from behind the wooden structure, followed by a bid goodnight with a teasing tilt in his voice. a small scoff falls from your lips as you step away from the door, approaching the single-size bed that’s positioned by the corner of the small room.

the sheets are neat and clean, colored with a dark green that matches the wooden frame. there’s a double-hung window right next to the bed, one that currently has the bottom sash opened and allowing cold evening air to enter the room. if there were any lit candles, they would’ve gone out with a single breeze - luckily, the room is illuminated with a warm, yellow tinted glow coming from an oil-lamp that sits neatly atop the nightstand located next to the bed. 

it’s cozy, you think. it’s nothing grand, far from the luxurious comfort of the royal chamber you’ve had for your entire life - but you suppose anything is better than having to rest on a hammock tied between two pillars of a constantly moving vessel.

placing the keys on top of the nightstand, you take your time to look outside the window, even when there’s nothing to even look at. the streets are eerily empty, and a breath of night air whistles past your ears, making you shiver. without any more thought, you reach above your head to hold onto the sash of the window just to bring it back down, closing it properly for your own comfort.

your fingers find the wick adjuster of the oil-lamp, twisting it counterclockwise until the flame goes out entirely. the room dims after the flame’s glow is extinguished, leaving only the gentle beam of moonlight leaking from the glass window. with a soft sigh, you settle yourself down onto the mattress, lying down against the clean sheets and staring at the ceiling above.

with a silent wish to see your homeland once again, you close your eyes, falling into a comfortable sleep.

there’s an itch on your back. 

it feels like you’re lying down on a rough surface, miniscule sprinkles of some kind of dirt prickling against your skin through the thin fabric of your outerwear. you feel yourself rumble out a lazy groan, wanting to roll over from your current position just to get away from whatever that you’re lying on – but you’re unable to do so.

your limbs feel heavy for a reason you can’t explain, particularly your legs. the ache in your thighs feels as if you’ve been travelling on foot for miles. the bottom of your feet are sore as well, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the pain that’s spreading along your soles.

just as you’re about to gently pull yourself out of your lazy slumber, an abrupt sweep of cold water washes over your feet that reaches up just below your knees, and you’re startled wide awake from the sheer temperature that could rival any snowy land.

it hurts as soon as you open your eyes. there’s a bright shine coming from the sky, one that’s far too bright for you at the moment, prompting you to cover your eyes with your hand. blinking once, twice, and a few swivels of your head left and right to take in your surroundings, are all it takes for you to finally register your current situation.

the sea water rises up again, small foamy waves climbing the shore and reaching over to the spot of damp sand you’re currently sitting on. you pull your legs closer to yourself to avoid getting your feet soaked by the water again, and you eventually notice the way you’re barefoot. without any shoes on, the reddened blisters and cuts that decorate your feet are out in perfect display.

you frown. it explains the ache and soreness, but you’re clueless on how you got them. hell, you’re clueless on why you’re even on a beach.

weren’t you… somewhere else? you can’t bring yourself to remember anything, even when you know something isn’t right. you opt to shake your head, deeming your uneasiness as some kind of post nap confusion. so, to freshen up and hopefully get yourself on your bearings again, you decide to move closer towards the water with the intention to wash away the sleepiness.

another wave comes in, and you bend down to collect some water with cupped hands, but you’re stopped halfway through when you catch a glimpse of your reflection.

have you… always looked like this? why do you look so tired, and so different? there are wrinkles on your visage that you don’t remember having, and the dark discolorations under your eyes are somehow more prominent than ever before. it’s as if you’ve aged up for god knows how many years. you reach a hand up to gently place your fingers over the skin of your face, and you grimace at how dry it feels. must’ve been the heat from the sun, you ponder, taking your sweet time to stare at your own features before the water descends back.

you’re startled once again when someone places their hand over your shoulder from behind, and you’re met with an unfamiliar face as you turn around. a man stands tall behind you, dressed in simple clothing that consists of a white long-sleeved shirt and trousers that are neatly folded up to his knees. his hair seems to be just as nicely kept like the rest of his appearance, dark medium length locks neatly tied in a loose bun with a few stray strands framing his chiseled face.

you tilt your head for a moment. you’ve never seen this man before, and yet, you feel yourself break into a fond smile. his name, one that you’ve never heard of, manages to slip out of your mouth as easy as the sea breeze blows at the back of your head, making the tangled strands of your hair obscure your vision for a moment. there’s a chuckle that escapes from the man in front of you as he reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ears.

“look who’s finally awake,” the man smiles, crouching down to meet you at eye level. “are you well rested?”

“… yes.” you breathe out reluctantly. “but my feet are sore.”

“i would be surprised if they weren’t.” the man sighs before properly settling himself down to sit next to you. “we’ve been travelling on foot for days.”

you blink. there’s a question on the tip of your tongue, but it never comes out. you can’t tell whether it’s because you’re far too confused to even speak it out, or it’s because the unfamiliar looking man beside you suddenly… feels very familiar.

he looks unfamiliar, yes, but the aura that he’s giving and the way he makes your heart squeeze in a way that only one person has ever been able to do feels all too familiar to call this man a complete stranger. you feel comfortable with him sitting beside you like this, in the middle of an unknown beach and feeling the salty breeze gust against your face as you stare at his side profile. you mutter out his name again, the syllables rolling off your tongue as if you’ve said his name a thousands times before, and he turns to look at you, lips slightly curved up.

there it is. the shine in his eyes, twinkling like the stars that you’ve always admired ever since the creation of your whole existence – a shine that you thought you’d never witness ever again.

it’s him, you realize, your first and only true love. he looks different, as different as you look yourself, but it’s him. no one else in the entire world could ever reach and have the very stars in his eyes, nor could anyone make your heart tremble the way he does.

“what?” he asks after a moment, and you smile as you notice his cheeks reddening. “is there something on my face?”

“no,” you shake your head. “i just… missed you, i suppose.”

‘miss’ feels like a very light word to describe whatever you’re currently feeling, but it’s the only word you can think of as you try your best not to burst into tears. to sit like this in his presence, talking normally without any malice or ill-will in sight, to hear his laughter and to see his smile – it feels like a dream.

a beautiful dream, but at the same time, it feels cruel. a piece of yourself knows that this may be the only way you could ever be like this with him again. in a dream.

you catch onto the way his features soften up after your words, and you’re not quite fast enough to turn away in attempt to hide the fresh tears rolling down your cheeks. you feel his touch on your face soon enough, hands rough and callous, yet the way he holds you is so soft and loving, it only makes the tears fall faster and drop onto the awaiting sand.

“hey,” he whispers, quickly pulling you closer to wrap you in his embrace. “i’m here, i’m here.”

“please don’t go,” you grasp onto the fabric of his shirt as tightly as you can, as if you’re terrified that the heavens were to be cruel to you and snatch him away once more. “please, you can’t leave me, not again.”

all of the sudden, you feel like a young teenager again. to let go of yourself and be vulnerable in his arms while he holds you with as much care as he would hold a porcelain doll – it makes your heart ache. 

“i won’t leave you,” he says, muttering into your hair as he hugs you just as tight as you’re holding onto him. “i will never leave you. i’ll find you in every lifetime, i promise.”

at his words, you feel yourself let out a small, humorless laugh. if he were to find you in every lifetime, you pray that none of them are similar to the one you’re experiencing now. you pray that you can be happy, genuinely happy, with him by your side and without any obstacles in your road to achieve the life you’ve always wanted with him.

“then i’ll be waiting for you,” you croak out, peeling yourself off of the man ever so slightly, just enough to tilt your head up and offer him a tearful smile. “i’ll always wait for you.”

the man returns your smile softly.

“you never change, starlight.” he whispers, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ears. “then please, wait for me now. i’m afraid i can’t stay any longer.”

just as your grip on his shirt tightens, the man cups your face gingerly.

“don’t worry,” he chuckles, as if sensing your anxiety over his previous words. “i’ll come visit another time, okay? trust me.”

you wish to object, to cling onto him as if your life depended on it, to try and convince him to stay with you until the end - but instead, you nod. it’s as if, deep down, you know this isn’t real, that it’s bound to end as soon as you open your eyes and face the reality that only has a cold stare and an even colder heart waiting for you.

you feel the man place his hand over your eyes, prompting you to close them.

“wake up.”

you wake up in cold sweat.

the room is still dark. you blink a few times, and there’s a wetness in your eyes that you don’t remember having when you fell asleep. with a quick touch using the tips of your fingers, you come to realize that you were shedding tears in your slumber.

you don’t remember why, though. did you have a bad dream?

whatever the reason is, you can’t seem to fall back to sleep because of it. you toss and turn, but your head decides to start pounding and your eyes refuse to obey your wishes of wanting to rest some more. you feel yourself getting increasingly agitated, the migraine merely growing and making it feel as if your head is about to split in half. soon enough, you ultimately decide to get up from the comfort of the mattress.

maybe a quick stroll could help, you wonder.

you reach for the keys by the nightstand, shoving them into one of the many pockets you have on the pants you’re wearing before making your way towards the door.

the hallway of the second floor is as dark and quiet as one would expect it to be during the dead of night, but even from your current spot at the end of the coridor, you can make out the silhouette of a person standing by the other end, right at the top of the stairs. the person has their back turned on you, head slightly tilted downwards as if they’re watching whatever that has their attention in the common area downstairs.

they seem to have felt your eyes on them, because they quickly swivel their head around to catch your gaze. there’s a faint, barely-there glow of light that you can safely assume is coming from the fireplace by the common area, and you feel a quick thump in your chest once the person’s features are illuminated for you to make out with a bit of effort and a squint of your eyes.

hongjoong raises a curious brow at your presence, opting to turn himself around properly to face you. he has his arms crossed over his chest, and even with the poor lighting, you’re able to notice the way that he has a few buttons undone. you try your best to keep your eyes from travelling downwards.

“can’t sleep?” hongjoong speaks after a minute, leaning against the railing of the staircase. you give him a weak nod before stepping away from the doorway, closing your door with a soft click. the captain seems slightly surprised by the way you’re willingly approaching him, the gentle thumps of your shoes on the wooden floor getting closer by the second. he notices that you’ve decided to shed yourself off of some layers of your attire, leaving you in a simple white shirt that’s a few sizes too loose and a pair of trousers.

hongjoong steps to the side a little, just to give you enough space to stand next to him and peer down the stairs. he catches a whiff of your scent, as sweet and enticing as he remembers.

you don’t pay mind to the way hongjoong starts to cough and clear his throat next to you. instead, your attention is entirely on the situation that’s playing in the common area. you’re given a clear view of yoona, still wearing the attire you saw her in earlier, sitting down opposite to yunho, who seems to be conscious now. your eyes travel down a little, and you can see the way yoona has her hands clasped around yunho’s, placing them on her lap as she fiddles with the pirate’s long fingers.

they’re chatting about something, judging by the way their lips are moving, but you can only make out hushed whispers.

“you’re spying on them?” you turn to hongjoong, who immediately frowns at your accusation.

“hell no,” he scowls. “i’d rather step in puke than watch those two lovebirds.”

“lovebirds?” you question in slight disbelief.

hongjoong seems to realize what he had just said, and he’s quick to backtrack.

“they’re childhood friends,” the captain explains. “yunho is a local.”

“ah,” you nod. “no wonder you all seem so close.”

your words were that of pure understanding, but for some reason, you can hear an entertained scoff coming from the pirate beside you.

“it’s an act,” he says. “for me, at least. she’s the innkeeper’s daughter so we have to be nice and shit for free stay.”

you nod once again, eyes unwavering from their gaze on the two subjects of your conversation with hongjoong. for some reason, your chest feels a little lighter after what hongjoong had just told you.

“so if you’re not spying on them,” you start, fighting back the smile from growing on your lips as hongjoong narrows his eyes at you. “then what are you doing?”

the captain takes a minute to respond, and you give him all the time he wants.

“.... making sure yunho is okay.” he speaks after a moment, the tone of his voice becoming quieter than before. “being here in eridanus is going to be challenging for him.”

“why?” you decide to query. “i thought this was his homeland.”

“this is where he was born and raised, yes,” hongjoong tenses. “but that doesn’t mean this is his home. not after what happened.”

another question threatens to slip from your mouth, but you stop yourself by pursing your lips. something tells you that it’s best to keep yourself from interrogating any further about this subject. hongjoong seems to appreciate your silence by the way you can feel him relax next to you, breathing out a sigh.

“why couldn’t you sleep?” you decide to change the subject. is that what it is? you feel as if you can’t stand to just sit in silence with him right next to you. you’re unsure if it’s the inability to tolerate the awkward silence or if it’s the fact you just wish to talk to him more. either way, hongjoong responds to you lightly, and you’re glad.

“had a weird dream,” he explains. “woke up with the worst headache ever.”

you feel your heart stop for a second. that sounds awfully familiar, you think, because that’s exactly why you couldn’t sleep either.

“... i see,” you mumble. “i had a weird dream too. woke up crying like a kid.”

your lower lip aches from the way you’re relentlessly chewing on it, and hongjoong’s silence is not helping.

maybe, just maybe, he woke up crying as well? just how you woke up with a headache like he did?

even if he did, would it mean anything significant? or would it be a simple coincidence?

“i see,” hongjoong replies after what felt like hours of painful silence and feeling your chest beat uncontrollably. “didn’t think spoiled royals like you had anything to cry about.”

ah, you think. so it’s nothing.

all of the sudden, it’s quiet again.

hongjoong decides that he’s had enough, and you don’t even bother to turn and look at him as he pushes himself off from the railing, walking away afterwards. every step that he takes feels like a stab to your chest.

once it fades away, you’re left alone once again.

liar, you bitterly curse within your head. 

you said you wouldn’t leave me.

next.

taglist: @atinytinaa @crimson-mia @catwhisk @lelaleleb@realrya @layzfeelit @atinyreads @revehosh @fourthirtyone-am @jexizia @xxluckydreamsxx @sankatchu @mythicalamphitrite @isntw0nwoo @honeyhwaaa @hiccups-are-better

[bangtanwritershq]

BangtanWritersHQ Presents: “Uncover The Mythos of Bangtan” Masterlist

For June 2023, we put together a collection of fics that focus on the mythological, folklore, and urban legend types of alternate universes! We asked our members to share with us their mythos-themed stories so that we could share them with you! If you are in an enchanting and whimsical mood, this masterlist is for you! In this post, you’ll find fics from our network members that feature any and all members with various mystical AU types and tropes!

Browse at your leisure and ENJOY!

KEY:

🔞 - nsfw (mature themes) ✅ - sfw (no warnings) 💖 - smut ⚠️ - other warnings

SET UP - emojis: Title (if link is to another platform) | Author [parts] pairings, genre/aus, rating, word count

🔞 💖 ⚠️ Curse of The Serpent | @colormepurplex2 [2/2] Pairing: Perseus!Namjoon x Medusa!Jimin AU Type: Gods & Monsters | smut, angst, mild fluff Rating: MA WC: 12,046

🔞 💖 ⚠️ Dream For Us | @colormepurplex2 [2/2] Pairing: Hyung Line x f.Reader AU Type: Demi-Gods & Monsters | light smut, angst Rating: MA WC: 15,255

🔞 💖 ⚠️ Flowers of Fate | @colormepurplex2 [4/4] Pairing: Fae!Yoongi x Human!Reader (ft. x Jimin/Namjoon/Jungkook) AU Type: Beltane, Scottish Folklore | smut, angst, fluff Rating: MA WC: 56,072

🔞 💖 ⚠️ Ambrosia & Nectar | @hisunshiine [1/1] Pairing: Dionysus!Jungkook x Phanessa!Reader AU Type: Greek Mythos | angst, smut, fluff Rating: MA WC: 5,112

🔞 💖 ⚠️ Petals With Luv | @hisunshiine [1/1] Pairing: Emporer!Jungkook x PalaceWoman!Reader AU Type: fantasy au | royalty au | angst | smut | thriller/spooky | fluff Rating: MA WC: 6,241

🔞 💖 ⚠️ The Eight | @noonasto [125/125] Pairing: OT7 x OC AU Type: Soulmates | smut, fluff, angst Rating: MA WC: 153,256

🔞 💖 ⚠️ Mate | @7deadlysinsfics [7/9] Pairing: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!Reader AU Type: A/B/O Soulmates | angst, fluff, smut Rating: MA WC: 25,920

🔞 💖 Sanguis | @7deadlysinsfics [1/2] Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Vampire!Reader AU Type: Vampires | smut, angst Rating: MA WC: 2,270

All stories copywritten of the specified author. The authors provided consent for their stories to the network to be shared by submitting their stories. Stories posted in the order of submission to the event.