#it holds no weight and he merely does whatever he wants. he is a monster that will always be one

[see-arcane]

The Harkers have got me fucked up. Not just from how much they're going through. Not just from how well they know each other.

But in how much is not being said. How much that appears to have been missed.

Mina has just made their friends swear to euthanize her. In front of Jonathan, who she knows cannot/will not make said promise aloud, though she tries to fish it out. A funeral service, yes, but no more than that. She takes the wins she can, relying on the others for the sacrificial slaughter while she pries what she thinks is some mote of acceptance of the Worst Case Scenario in Potentia from Jonathan. Perhaps she's read the vampiric vow of his journal by now. Perhaps not. Perhaps she already suspects either way and wants desperately not to see him damn himself, damn both of them, to avoid raising a killing hand to her.

She is going into the dark. What kind, she does not know yet. But she knows--thinks she knows--she has taken some measure to save her soul and Jonathan's. God's will be done. (Piety trembles in her heart, a fear trying frantically to still look like faith.)

Jonathan, meanwhile, is in Hell.

As it was in the castle, there are some miseries too deep to dwell on for him to stomach writing them down. Hence his tapping Jack to record it all. But the silence from him here, bar the dodge of the promise that goes against his private vow, bar the reading of the burial service, sinks deeper than any horror he suffered from the Count in person. What can he be thinking now?

I made this all possible. I opened the door to England for him. Showed him how to spread his poison. Failed to strike a killing blow when I had the chance. Slept frozen and useless beside her as he drank and made her drink. Lost him by inches in Piccadilly. Now I am here, listening to her claim so sunnily that any man of old would murder his woman to save her from the enemy's touch, as if asking for a trifle. All the while I sit contemplating a hellish betrayal, holding my heart over her wishes, over sanity, humanity, Heaven and Hell. Contemplating worse.

(The kukri is very sharp by now. In time it will have so fine an edge that no one would feel its cut before their head toppled off. Be they in a coffin or a friend with their back turned. Sickly, he finds the thought cold and placid in his mind. Is he not already damned for what he's allowed? Is he not already slated for the Count's collection? He knows whose blood it was on the monster's lips on that final dawn in Transylvania. And when he dies...)

I imagine he has to stop himself from making a mirrored request to the others right there. Has to stop himself from handing Mina the Bible and asking her to read it out for him. If she is lost, he is lost. It is not merely undeath that he would follow her into--whatever she is, wherever she goes, so must he be, so must he go.

Read it for me now, darling. You laid it all out so eloquently. I am already lost but for the wait for the grave. Come everyone, while we're here. Two funerals. Two sets of oaths. I can perhaps save you half the work, if I fall neatly enough on the kukri. Pry it from my heart and take my head when the time comes.

But he bites his tongue. Does not touch his pen. Does not risk heaping another weight on his love who is already crushed beneath existential terrors that are being thrust on her by the actions of others. She does not know what he is planning, even if she suspects it by half.

What she knows: Jonathan cannot raise a hand to her. (He would have me as a monster than not exist at all.)

What he prays she never will: Jonathan will be anything she is. (Mortal. Monster. Dead.)

One last secret to keep.

All the way to the grave.

[writing-protocol]

Monster

It's been more than a month, and Shiro's gotten used to his disappearing friend. When he's honest with himself, he finds that he looks forward to those days when Keith visits.

Sometimes, they enjoy the sunrise together or else climb the tower and marvel at all the stars you can see out here. Without light pollution, it's hard to miss the ethereal beauty of the Milky Way or the way it reflects in the ghost's haunting gaze.

On colder days, the ghost wanders into Shiro's kitchen. More often than not, they end up on the sagging sofa. There's a fairly modern television in the living room, but Shiro hasn't bothered with it. Instead, he opts for a book — the town's only library is expansive, at least.

On those days when Keith comes over, Shiro reads aloud to the both of them. Keith leans back on the tired couch and listens, and his laughter is payment enough.

Storms come with some regularity, and soon enough, Shiro knows his way around the equipment.

He does not know his way around monsters.

He sees it first in the bright glow of the lighthouse lamps and can't help gaping at the enormous shadow that's lumbering toward the shoreline from somewhere in the depths of the ocean.

He has never seen anything like it before. But then again, he'd never met a ghost before either, and now he hangs out with one on a semi-regular basis.

He glances back at Keith and sees fear in those beautiful eyes. They're both soaked through, and the weather's predictably terrible, but Shiro isn't ready for whatever this is. Behind him, the lighthouse lamps flicker.

"Head back," Keith tells him, looking like a determined wet rat. "It's dangerous."

Worry settles in Shiro's gut. "What the fuck is that?"

"A tidal beast." The ghost steps forward and begins to glow. His outline shimmers with purple light, and it's getting brighter with every passing moment. "Run."

Shiro doesn't even think about it. "What about you?"

"I'll handle it."

"Handle it?"

Shiro watches as the ghost burns! The glow surrounding him becomes an unbearable light, so much so that Shiro has to look away. Like a shooting star, he's a purple flame in the darkness. He flings his hands out just as the monster reaches the shore, and it slams into a glowing wall.

Keith winces but doesn't back down.

"Why is it here? What does it want?" Shiro asks.

Waves tall enough to clear the cliffside flood the hills. The ghost shrugs and cries out as the beast tries again, actively pummeling the wall with far too many arms. The light surrounding him falters and then deepens. Like a candle in the darkness, he's a beacon.

And like a candle, Shiro thinks, he will burn out.

The monster's black, soulless eyes zero in on them. It's a creature of endless time, a being so ancient and everlasting that it barely registers humanity as alive at all.

It batters the shield relentlessly, and still, the wall holds. And so long as it does, the monster cannot step into the harbor. It occurs to Shiro that the ghost is the only thing standing between the beast and the town.

The storm rages around them, but all Shiro sees is his friend slowly fading.

Forgotten is the freezing cold and the wet, the shivering and numb fingers.

"Tell me what to do," Shiro demands.

Keith shakes his head.

Mere moments later, another burst of light comes from a distant shore and the shield stabilizes. Keith sags, and Shiro catches him before he crumbles.

Dark, bottomless eyes look up at Shiro as the ghost turns and puts his hands on Shiro's cold cheeks. The kiss that follows is deep and filled with a lifetime of longing. He leans into Shiro's warmth, a welcome solid weight.

"Goodbye," Keith says when he pulls away.

Shiro's breath catches. "No. Please. Don't go."

"Sorry." Keith steps back, removes his pendant, and hangs it around Shiro's neck. "Take care of yourself for me."

Shiro has said goodbye before, but this time… this time he isn't sure he knows what's on the other side. Maybe he doesn't want to.

"Please, Keith. Not like this." He knows he's begging and the wind steals his words.

"We'll meet again," the ghost promises.

It's not enough. "Tell me where to find you."

There's determination on Keith's face when he finally responds. The glow has faded completely, and he's little more than see-through photograph. "Here. Give me a little while. I'll find you."

"Promise?"

"Yeah."

"I can't do this without you," Shiro whispers, but his friend is gone.

Shiro's left alone at the top of the lighthouse tower. Alone but not lonely anymore.

Click on the lighthouse tag to read the other drabbles in the same story.

[arthur-rex]

@shireentheunburnt​ Continued from (here)

_____

Holding her friend, rubbing her back soothingly, Shireen let the queen put her weight upon her and did her best to take as much anxiety off the queen’s shoulders, if only for the briefest few moments. “Whatever you, and King Arthur, require of me, Your Grace, I will do my best to provide for you both. I want you to have the happiness that my own family could not due, in great part, to this creature. I will do anything you wish of me, to that end.” For the safety of the queen’s family and people, the princess would offer her own blood readily and without hesitation.

When Ser Percival entered with Arthur, Shireen looked on in horrified concern, quickly stepping slightly away to give Guinevere room to get to her husband, and to issue orders as were needed. Her friend was both a wife and a queen, after all; and Shireen knew well that she embodied those roles with a grace and deftness that could only be admired and strove for by others. She kept out of the way of both the queen and their knights as Guinevere took charge, not wanting her own concern for Arthur to intervene in what needed to be done.

That was until Melisandre made her presence known.

Immediately, Shireen moves to stand protectively between Guinevere and the red woman, distrust and an old pain written clearly across her face. Despite this, her voice never rose as she began to speak, remaining calm yet firm. “And what would you say that your ‘Lord of Light’ requires for such a boon? Nay. Anything you can do, I guarantee Ser Merlin can do better without needless shedding of innocent blood.”

Turning to Guinevere, Shireen shook her head at the older woman. “She is not to be trusted, Your Grace. She murders and plots the deaths of innocents with a smile upon her face. She admitted to my mother than much of her ‘power’ are merely tricks and illusions designed to deceive people into joining her faith; and that the innocent and beautiful are favoured sacrifices in her belief. She lies as she breathes, and lacks Ser Merlin’s kindness, good nature and skill.”

Turning back to Melisandre, a Baratheon’s rage flaring in her eyes, she concluded, “You are a sham, and a cruel one. You are evil. At least the Night King is acting by instinct, like an untamed beast that knows no better; you are not foolish nor an animal, yet you do vile things anyway. You are worse than he is. So much worse in that you do not even admit to being the monster you truly are. And, mark my words, I will not allow you to bring harm to Queen Guinevere’s family and people as you did to mine.”

If Guinevere wished it, she would move and obey the queen’s word. Until then, however, she would keep herself as a shield for her new friend and their wounded husband in the face of her would-be-murderer. And, even after that, she would keep a close eye on the priestess. Melisandre had been allowed to act with far too much impunity in the past.

Having spoke her piece, Shireen, unflinchingly holding her position, turned once more to Guinevere, bowing her head deferentially to the other woman as she waited for her friend to speak. This was Gwen’s land, and her decision, and Shireen would respect her choice; even though her vow to protect the queen and her husband would still stand… 

_____

The High Queen of Camelot listens to each woman speak. In the shadows of the tent, Arthur cries out weakly, shivering under the curse of the Night King’s spear. Guinevere feels each and every flinch of her husband’s body upon their bed, but she does not react; she is strong and steadfast, and will remain so as long her people and their King require it of her. It is this very spirit that Arthur fell in love with, all those years ago in a blacksmith’s house.

“Ser Percival. How long before Merlin can be located and brought here?”

The knight in attendance takes a small step back, as if forgetting his own presence for a moment. He is surrounded by three rather powerful women. 

“The Dragonlord? He was last sighted a day ago, flying on the back of one of his dragons, due south. We all thought... he would have returned this evening, on the eve of the battle with the White Walkers, but-”

“How long, Ser Percival?” Gwen repeats quietly, turning her soft, dark eyes onto the tall knight. “I trust the Court Sorcerer had his reasons for leaving us, but now he is needed by the people - Arthur needs him. Do we have a raven we can send?”

“Your Highness, if I may. Your husband has less than a few hours to live.” 

Smoothly interjecting, Melisandre raises her eyebrow pointedly at the young Baratheon. 

“I may not be the most popular person here, given the current company, but I am sincere in my efforts to save the High King. The White Walkers are the enemies of all those who serve the Lord of Light. Naturally, I do not wish to see Arthur Pendragon fall and become the next Night King, anymore than I would assume the rest of you do.”

Silence accompanies the red woman’s words, broken only by the pitiful gasps of the blond man shivering on the bed a short distance away. Arthur’s eyes roll uncontrollably, shuddering as his heart labours. 

Guinevere... don’t. Let me die... Gwen... please.

“If he dies, he falls.” 

Melisandre looks squarely at the Queen. “You would have to cut off his head, or burn him immediately, to stop the curse from completing its demands of him. And even then, I cannot guarantee King Arthur will not still succumb to the perversions of those that walk in shadows.” 

The witch takes a small step forward, eyes solemn yet reflecting the glow of the candles flickering in the royal tent. The night has been long, and certainly full of terrors... but it is still a few hours to go before the dawn. 

Hours that Arthur is fast running out of.

A hard edge enters Melisandre’s voice. “The magic of the White Walkers is a corruption of Nature herself. Cleansing fire is the only thing that will drive out the demon. I do not see that you have much choice. You must accept my help, your Majesty, if you do not wish to see your King become an enemy to his own People.”

Alone on her side of the table, Guinevere stills. The looming decision before her appears an impossible one, but - as Arthur begins to cry out again - the Queen at last shuts her eyes, tears trickling slowly down her cheeks.

“Heal him then.”

Nodding, the red witch walks immediately past the two women, settling onto her knees beside her patient on the bed. Gwen looks over to Shireen, expression alive with worry. As Ser Percival bows his head, murmuring he will send a raven to Merlin, he leaves the two women who immediately embrace each other again, holding on tight. 

Beside Arthur, Melisandre begins a soft, low chant. Her hands move over her neck, caressing the large piece of silver with red gems adorning her throat. Unclasping the necklace, the sorceress continues to commune with her Lord, chanting words that pertain to a very old legend. 

Drawing in a shuddering breath, the blond monarch closes eyes that have already begun to take on an unearthly icy tint, moaning quietly as the magic of the sorceress begins to interact with that of the curse. At the touch of Melisandre’s hand upon his brow, Arthur yells, face contorting in agony.

Gwen is no longer able to hold back. Rushing over she grasps hold of her husband’s spare hand on the other side of the bed, hushing and soothing her love. 

To her credit, Melisandre does not stop her, continuing without pause as her magic gains a hold on the ailing King.

[hotwings0203]

Idk what this is but the thought of you being scared of Bakugos quirk is so hot to me

Tw:noncon, predatory behavior

“I swear he’s getting to be more and more like a villain every time I see him,” you giggle with Mina as you two walk out of the class. Bakugo had yet again exploded at one of your shared teachers for correcting him in his pronunciation of a word, and as usual it was quite a scene to behold. Chairs were almost thrown, his friends had to hold him back from leaping up while others egged him on, itching for amusement in their mind-numbingly dull class.

“Maybe Shigaraki was right,” your pink-haired friend snorts and you both collapse in wheezes, clawing and slapping at each other’s shoulders as the ludicrous image of Shigaraki being unable to reign in Bakugo comes to mind.

“Hey ladies, what’re you two laughing about?” A lilting and charming voice comes right at your ear, and you turn to see Denki, Kirishima and…Bakugo walking next to you.

Just because of his proximity and how you were literally just talking about him two seconds ago, you jump away from Bakugo’s glowering face and not so subtly hide behind Mina in a half playful jest.

“Huh? Whatcha ya jumpin’ around for?” Kirishima laughs and you exchange an embarrassed look with Mina.

“Oh nothing, we were just talking about how Bakugo’s quirk is totally villainous. We’re lucky he’s on our side,” Mina singsongs, but you slap her arm in alarm.

And well placed alarm at that, because Bakugo’s scowl deepens as he turns his head to you in a death-glare. You swallow hard seeing his expression and try to nervously laugh.

“But, uh, we were just joking. Right Mina?” You give her a pointed look and she deflects it happily.

“Nope! At least you weren’t, you’re half scared to death of him, isn’t that right Y/N?”

Denki interrupts before you can sputter in horror.

“Honestly, who isn’t scared of this dude?” He claps the other blond on his back and yelps when Bakugo’s hands start curling with smoke.

“Watch it dumbass.” He cranes his head to meet your eyes, but when he finds that you’re still avoiding eye contact with him he starts moving around his friends to better talk to you.

“My quirk isn’t that scary you idiot. It’s not like I care enough about any of you to blow you up-“

But with the smoke still curling form his hands and with the permanently intimidating scowl on his face reading closer and close to your, you can’t help but squeal and scrabble around him to sink your nails into Kirishima’s shoulders for protection.

“Okay, I get it! You don’t have to come any closer, I can see fine from here.” Your voice comes out too high and strained to be deemed as joking, but nonetheless everyone laughs at your dramatic show.

Everyone but Katsuki. Because he can see you’re actually scared, he’s seen it a hundred times on civilians who try to pretend they’re fine but still have that panicked glint in their eye.

“Jesus Y/N, with a reaction like that maybe he really is a villain. Bakubro, want us to send you back to Shigaraki’s place? Maybe you should reconsider his offer.”

And finally at Denki’s quip everyone including you this time laughs again in playful agreement, but yet again Bakugo’s blood starts simmering further.

Why the fuck were you being so obnoxious? He didn’t do anything to you before, right? So why the hell were you embarrassing him in front of all his friends and making him out to be this bloodthirsty monster?

Well, whatever. If a monster is what you want, then a monster is what you’ll get.

And so he waits for you after school, trailing behind you a couple hundred feet yet still keeping you in sight. He curses when you giggle with your friends, no doubt in his mind that you’re still throwing dirt on his name and he swears under his breath when you talk to Deku and his dweeb friends.

Of course when you hang around ditzy dorks like Deku he’s gonna look like a psycho in comparison.

But at one point you’re by the vending machine alone in a deserted hallway, fumbling with your coins and trying to quickly get a soda before your friends up ahead leave.

Too bad for you, because when he’s done with you they’ll never want to be seen with you again for their own safety.

You’re shoving money in the slot when he silently walks up a couple feet behind you.

“No friends around to gossip about me?”

You shriek and jump a good foot in the air at the sudden voice behind you. Clutching your heaving chest, you whirl around to see who it is.

Your blood runs cold. It’s Katsuki Bakugo, the absolute last person you want to be alone with in a deserted hallway.

Your feet move a step back.

Wrong move.

His nostrils flare and his eyes widen at your insulting retreat. You know he doesn’t take kindly to it, but with an expression like that how could you not?

“Uh, w-what do you mean?” You chuckle nervously.

He doesn’t laugh. In fact, he does something worse.

He matches your steps and moves forward a little bit.

At this you fully take a stride backwards and clash with the vending machine behind you.

He keeps advancing, slowly getting closer and checking you out, his head tilted as his eyes roam up and down your vulnerable body.

“Don’t move back. Why the fuck did you move away from me? That’s rude, we were just having a normal conversation.”

You surprise yourself by sounding level-headed in retaliation. “‘Kinda hard not to be a little uncomfortable when your conversation sounds so accusing.”

He lunges forward and you actually scream this time, throwing your hands up above your head in instinct to protect yourself from his proximity.

Bakugo doesn’t touch you but you can still feel his breath puffing on your head, can still feel the heat from his hands on either side of your body.

“You got a smart mouth don’t you? Is that why you embarrassed me earlier in front of everyone?”

“Embarrassed you-?” You squeak but immediately cut off when he thrusts his face right in front of yours, a manic look on his face as all his facial features stretch into a irate leer.

“I guess we’ll have to fix that tongue of yours. Put it to better use than to talk shit about me, right?”

Vermilion irises move from your face down your body, lingering on your chest and at the apex in between your legs.

Bile rises to your throat as he licks his lips and lets his lips ghost over yours, oh so close yet not touching.

And in the second before he descends, you shove him off with nothing but pure adrenaline feeling your fear and race past him, blindly running down the halls as fast as you can.

Surprisingly, you don’t hear anyone behind you. That doesn’t mean you don’t stop running though.

The real reason you don’t hear anyone behind you is because Katsuki Bakugo has an eerie smile on his face at your bolt. He languidly stretches his arms above his head and relishes in the popping of his joints, and in succession the popping of sparks in his hand. He kicks one leg out, then the other just to ensure you get a fair head start.

You’ve just made this so much more interesting.

He sets off at a light jog, and even in his carefree pace his strides are enough to eventually catch up with you, instinct like an animal’s guiding him through the winding halls and ending up catching a glimpse of your feet as you turn into another lane.

You’re panting, sweat pouring down your eyes as panic makes it hard to breathe or think rationally. The adrenaline that was pushing you is now dying down but at the worst time.

You take a quick glance back and your rapidly beating heart falters as you see him with a grin on his face as he practically jogs leisurely behind you. You’ve seen this same face on him when he’s in the battlefield, blasting through enemy hearts and blowing up heads as if they were fireworks.

He’s bloodthirsty. He wants you.

“Running away again? That’s not very heroic of you babe,” he calls out, and it’s terrifyingly infuriating how he’s not out of breath.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” you half scream and sob, trying to run faster but failing miserably.

You see a bathroom sign out of the corner of your eye and frantically stumble towards it.

Katsuki knows you know he’s even you take a turn and he laughs to himself at how boringly easy this is.

Maybe he was scary.

He shakes it off and continues his hunt after you, coming forth until he faces the bathroom door in which you were cowering behind.

There’s a small window, and no other door. Just a couple of stalls, a terrified girl, and a psycho with the taste of revenge practically palpable on his lustful tongue.

He knock with faux politeness. “You wanna come out and do this the easy way or you want me to barge in and take you myself?”

You sob and wheeze in response, desperately pushing against the flimsy door in a pathetic attempt to keep him out. Bakugo merely crosses his arms and leans against the door, staring intently at it with a smile still on his face.

Judging by the weight pushing more at the bottom of the door, he can tell you’re probably sitting down in an effort to catch your breath.

You both know he can come in at any time he so well pleases, but he decides he’ll play by your rules for a bit longer, indulge you a little before your inevitable downfall.

He hums loudly and slides down to join your parallel position on the floor.

“I’m tryina be nice here, y’know. You acted so scared of me when I never even bothered you before. Aren’t I being nice right now by letting you choose for yourself?”

He sounds so conversational, as if he were talking to one of his buddies. You stay silent but your silence speaks volumes.

It serves as nothing but a means to piss him off further.

The two of you sit in silence for seemingly hours, even though it’s only around 20 minutes. Every second you feel like he’s going to break down the door any second and blast your face off, but miraculously he doesn’t.

You don’t know what you’d rather prefer: for him to prolong your strained agony by letting you be so close yet so far from him, or to end your suffering and get it done with.

But you needn’t sit in silence stewing in your own fear any further, for at the exact moment you begin to doze off with the dying of the light the weight on the other side of the door lifts and you startle awake at the scuffling on the other side.

You blink a couple of times and blanch when you see through the window the purple light indicating that you really have been here longer than you thought.

Bakugo cracks his knuckles and rolls his head, popping a few more kinks in his neck before breathing out and bracing for impact.

“Ready or not little bitch, here I come.”

“Bakugo, wait-!”

But your plea doesn’t last for more than two words. The door bangs open with such a sound that you actually think he’s blasted it straight off his hinges. You gasp and shield yourself, jumping backwards and covering your face.

“‘Thought I made it clear by now that you can’t run. So why’d you try to leave? Huh? Think you’re smarter than me? You think you’re stronger than me?”

He’s stalking forward again, and you’re left tripping back over your feet and whimpering at his salacious intent as he backs you up and corners you into a stall.

He already knows the answers to his rhetorical questions but he wants to hear you say it. He wants to hear that scornful conviction in your voice about how big and bad he was that you used earlier.

With you tripping backwards into the cramped stall, his approach quickens in hunger at feeling you, feeling the fear radiating off your body.

Bakugo presses up against you against the wall and takes up the space around you, invading your personal bubble. He’s everywhere, growling in your ear, hands gripping your waist so tight you’re sure bruises sprout from his touch, his erect penis grinding on the inside of your thigh.

Your trepidation and terror rises to an insurmountable height as he smothers you.

When he suddenly grips your chin and forces your head to face him you gasp. His touch is even more callous than you thought.

“You lookin’ here bitch? Good.”

His palm is raised towards you and before you can even widen your eyes in realization his appendage starts sparking madly. You shriek and try to throw him loose as little bits of embers fly out and made your face, his voice rough as always yet dangerously low and soft.

“S’not so scary after all is it? You’re reacting better to it than I thought.” Bakugo Blanca you mocks your writhing figure as you desperately try to evade the mini explosions.

“Okay, I get it, please stop I don’t like it!” You shrilly cry out but his hand moves from your jaw down to your neck, and squeezes the last remnants of opposition out of you.

“Yeah? Good, I’m glad you get it. But honestly, I don’t care if you don’t like it.

Because I like it. I fucking love this quirk, ‘specially when you cower so prettily under it like you did earlier.”

You choke and try to scrabble at his hands but it’s like a butterfly’s touch to him, barely producing any fruition.

“I kept wondering to myself: why do I care if she’s scared of it? And then I realized,” he leans in and lets his lips brush over your ear, lets his hand lessen ever so slightly so that your main focus is his words.

“You just looked good enough to eat when you know you’re beneath me. When you know how dangerous I am.”

He pulls back and assesses the look on your face. “Makes you look good enough to eat.”

And without further ado he lowers his hand and starts rubbing his alit palm on your clothed pussy, his erection getting harder as your screams wilt into whines.

Your legs flail uselessly as he burns a hole through your pants and his fingers hook aside the band of your panties.

Bakugo thrusts his hips forwards and grinds his straining cock on your moist lips, taking in your blubbers and teary eyes.

You can’t even speak, you can only cry out like a child as he thrusts harder and harder, so hard that your back hits the wall painful and the stall walls rattle behind you.

“You-pant-fucking scared-pant-now slut?” He rasps, his head bobbing on rhythm with yours as he practically lifts you off your toes to match his pace.

Your clit is caught between the fabric and rolled cruelly pleasurable as his tip leaks precum, staining your own panties in the process.

With your attention rapt on his now-uncovered dick sliding in and out of your folds, he takes this opportunity to take his other hand off your neck and blast the wall next to your face.

The second you open your mouth in shock as bits of tile rain down on your face he slams his steaming palm over your lips, burning the soft flesh as you weep openly.

He sets off two more near your sides and another above your head, his own face aligned right in front of yours so you can see the mean smile on his face all the while he sets your heart racing at an alarming speed.

When the smoke clears and you can start feeling glass and tile imprint on your once-smooth face, he positions his dick up so that it prods at your hole and yanks your hair back.

His eyes practically glow with the mini fires preserved in the walls with his blasts, the impact of the air rushing around him makes his hair even spikier, his body is taunt and even more imposing than before.

His teeth gleam with the orange and red light next to you. His chest doesn’t heave, because he’s at ease with your terror.

“You think you know fear?”

With one swift movement he shoves up into you, but this time he doesn’t cover your mouth.

“You haven’t met me truly yet.”

[uraveragelonelygay]

Another Love

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!reader

Summary: You meet Wanda at a grief group, as she’s struggling to heal after Vision’s death. Will you help her heal? Will your friendship grow into something more?

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: grief

Theme: Angst, Fluff

A/N: I have been working on this one all day, and I think it’s alright! It’s my first oneshot on this account, so please go easy on me! I hope you enjoy!

(Shoutout to @theloveclub-18 for the idea! I super appreciate it!)

“Thank you all for being so open this evening. I hope to see you all next week. Let the healing continue.”

As various people mumbled back “let the healing continue,” Wanda fought the urge to roll her eyes.

It had been six months since Vision’s death, and four months since she had started attending a grief group recommended by Bucky. She had tried to insist to him that it was useless but he begged her to try it out. Now, here she was, four months later, still feeling as broken as she had the day she watched the love of her life be killed. Twice. One might ask why she continued to attend the sessions weekly when she felt she hadn’t made any progress. Why had she spent 16 of her Wednesday nights at a grief group when she felt it was pointless? The answer is simple: the food.

The session always had a table full of freshly baked goods from Sugar, Butter, Flour, a bakery just down the road from the community center holding the sessions. Every week, Wanda would sit through listening to people talk about their heartbreak, and, when pushed to confront her own trauma, reluctantly share just enough to satisfy the facilitator. And she did it all just to have a few moments of sheer joy, letting whatever delicious creation the bakery had provided that week wash over her taste buds and temporarily take her away from this cruel world that had ripped her love from her.

Wanda grabbed her purse and made a beeline for the table full of goodies. She had been running late today, so she didn’t get a chance to grab anything before the session, leaving her options limited. There was only one cookie left, but as she reached for it, her hand brushed against someone else’s, causing her to pull her hand back quickly.

“I’m sorry-”

“No it’s fine, I shouldn’t have-”

“Please it’s all yours-”

You cleared your throat and shot her a sheepish smile before extending your hand to her.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

Wanda looks at your hand skeptically and you awkwardly retract it when you realize she won’t be shaking it.

“I’m Wanda,” she says hesitantly, her eyes flashing to the cookie, and then the exit.

You tried again. “So you like the cookies here too?”

She meets your Y/E/C eyes impatiently before sighing.

“Yeah, I’ll just grab one next week, though, I really gotta go,” she says, starting towards the exit.

You watch her leave, intrigued by the girl, before you snap back to reality.

*****************************************************************************************************

Wanda is almost to her car when she hears footsteps behind her and quickly turns around, her eyes glowing red.

You stare at her, wide-eyed, the remaining cookie in your hand.

“Shit, Wanda, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to give you this.”

Wanda sighs, her eyes returning to their normal color. She pinches the bridge of her nose. Remorse fills her face. Her grief had caused her to be angrier than usual, leading to her powers flaring up accidentally. And now she had frightened this woman who was just trying to give her a damn cookie.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that. Thank you for the cookie. I promise I’m not always scary I just, I-”

You stopped her. “Hey, it’s fine. If I heard someone running at me in a parking lot in the middle of the night, I would be on edge too. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. Plus, you’re...well...here,” you paused, gesturing to the community center the two of you had just come from, before continuing, “so I think it’s safe to assume you aren’t having the best time. I get it. If there’s any way I can help, please let me know.”

Wanda was at a loss for words. She had nearly struck you with her powers and here you were, looking at her with a gentle smile and no fear on your face whatsoever.

After a few minutes of silence, you awkwardly placed the napkin-wrapped cookie on the hood of her car, before stepping back and smiling at her yet again.

“I’ll see you next week, Wanda. Have a good night,” you say, waving at her before you walk out of the parking lot and down the block.

*****************************************************************************************************

Only, you didn’t see her in Group the following week.

After leaving the community center, you were about to head down the block when you noticed her car in the parking lot, with her in it. You gently approached her car, tapping on the window quietly in an attempt to not startle her.

She looked up at you with puffy, red-rimmed eyes, before rolling down her window.

“May I help you?”

Her tone was much harsher than she intended, and she winced at it, but you merely smiled at her, unaffected, before digging through your bag and pulling out a tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies.

“They had leftovers tonight, you want some?”

And you had shocked Wanda yet again.

“Sure.”

You reached forward to hand the cookies to her through the window when Wanda decided to take a leap of faith.

“You can come sit in here and share them with me, I wouldn’t mind some company,” She says quietly before adding, “I’ll warn you, though, I’m a bit of a trainwreck right now.”

You laughed softly before opening the door to the passenger side of her car and sliding in. You looked at her with soft eyes.

“Trainwrecks unite.”

*****************************************************************************************************

Wanda told you everything that night. She told you about Vision, about her love for him, and his for her. About how he was the first since her brother died to look at her like a person, and not a monster. She told you all about the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the desperate need for it to end.

And you listened. You watched her intently the whole time. You held her hand comfortingly as her body wracked with sobs. You were there. And that night, you didn’t know why, but you made a promise to always be there for the beautiful redhead with the lost hope.

That night was the first time since Vision’s death that Wanda slept soundly through the night. No nightmares. No suffering.

It had been three months since that night. Since then, it became a habit for the two of you to spend Wednesday nights following group sessions in her car, chatting about anything and everything. And Wanda had to admit, she was okay. For the first time since Vision’s death, she didn’t wish she could join him. She didn’t want to stay isolated in her room. She wanted to live. She wanted to show people the kindness you’d shown her. She woke every Wednesday with a smile, and you on her mind.

*****************************************************************************************************

This Wednesday, you appeared nervous as you got into the passenger side of Wanda’s car.

Wanda noticed this right off the bat.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You start fidgeting with your fingers and look down at your lap as you respond. 

“Yeah, I just...I have to tell you something. Promise you won’t get mad.”

Wanda looks at you with a gentle smile.

“Y/N, you’re my best friend, I could never get mad at you. What is it?”

You took a deep breath and looked up at Wanda, before asking the question.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Wanda’s eyes widened and she froze.

You tried to dig yourself out of the hole.

“Nevermind, forget I said anything, I never should’ve-”

“No.” Wanda said quietly.

“What?”

“No. I can’t. God, I could never love you.”

You felt your heart shatter in your chest.

Wanda quickly realized the weight of her words, and tried to fix them, “Y/N, no, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I-”

“It’s fine, Wanda. I have to go.”

With that, you scrambled out of the car and walked out of the parking lot and down the block, with tears streaming down your face, and your heart broken.

*****************************************************************************************************

Wanda couldn’t believe she had said that. The truth is, she didn’t know if she had room in her heart for more than one love. She had loved Vision. He was everything to her. Could she also love you?

For the rest of the week, Wanda was beyond conflicted. She knew she had to apologize to you, but she didn’t want to do so until she had sorted out her own feelings. You deserved a solid answer.

It was Tuesday night. She would see you again tomorrow. And she still didn’t know. She tossed and turned that night for hours before she finally fell asleep, you and Vision occupying her mind, per usual.

She was in a field of flowers. It was beautiful. She thought about how she might like to show it to you. And then she heard someone. Someone she thought she would never hear from or see again.

“Wanda, darling.”

“Vision?” She spun around, and there he was, smiling at her.

“It’s okay, you know,” He said. Wanda was confused. He continued, “The feelings that you’re feeling. For her. It’s okay.”

She laughed, “You always did know me better than I knew myself.”

Vision smiled softly at her.

“Vision, I love you. I love you so much. I can’t let you go.”

“Wanda, no one is asking you to. You can move on without letting my memory slip away from you.”

Wanda nods softly, thinking intently about what he said.

“Tell me about her,” he encourages.

Wanda smiles.

“She’s so gentle. And so stubborn. I almost hurt her when we first met but she didn’t cower. She wasn’t afraid. She didn’t look at me like a monster. She made me laugh for the first time since you...you know. She fidgets with her fingers when she’s nervous. She does this adorable head tilt when she’s listening intently. She’s patient. She’s kind. She’s...she’s everything,” Wanda realizes, awestruck.

Vision approaches her.

“You love her.”

She looks at him, concerned. “Is that okay?”

He merely smiles. “Darling, of course it’s okay. She sounds wonderful. You deserve her. You deserve love, even if it isn’t with me. You deserve happiness.”

Wanda grabs his hands. “Thank you, Vision. For your love. I think it will always be a part of me. But I’m ready to move on. I love her. I’m ready.”

Vision squeezes her hands gently. “That you are, Wanda. I’ll always love you. Now go. Go to her.”

*****************************************************************************************************

Wanda shot up, breathing deeply. This time, she only had one person on her mind: you. “I love her,” she whispers softly to herself. She smiles, but it quickly fades when she remembers the words she said to you last week. She had to make this right.

*****************************************************************************************************

She arrived at Group early, noticing with a frown that the snack table was empty. She knew she would need some baked goods to give her the courage to approach you, so she approached the facilitator, Mindy, and cleared her throat to get Mindy’s attention.

“Um, hello, ma’am, I was just wondering where the goodies are? They’re usually here by now,” she said.

Mindy smiled at the girl. “I’m sorry, dear, but there won’t be any baked goods today. Y/N called me earlier, and told me she wouldn’t be able to make it.”

“Y/N? What does she have to do with-” Wanda pauses. Holy shit. You were the owner of Sugar, Butter, Flour. You had been the one making the goodies that fueled her to keep attending the group. You had been the provider of her temporary escape from the world. You did that. It truly was always you. She had to find you.

“Are you alright, dear?” Mindy asked.

Wanda shook her head. “No, there’s something I need to do. Thank you for your help, ma’am.” And with that, she sprinted out the door, got into her car, and pulled out of the parking lot.

*****************************************************************************************************

Wanda didn’t know where she was going. She just knew she had to find you. And then it started raining. No, not just raining. Pouring. This made it incredibly hard for Wanda to see where she was going, but she was determined.

As she drove, she realized something. She had told you everything about herself. You had listened, asked questions. But she never once asked about you. Hell, she didn’t even know you baked for a living until 15 minutes ago. She didn’t even know why you attended the grief group.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t realize she had driven all the way to the park at the edge of town, until she saw you. You were sitting on a bench, in the pouring rain, sobbing and shaking. Her heart broke at the sight. She quietly got out of her car.

“Y/N?” She called your name softly, approaching you with caution.

Your head snapped up.

“Wanda?”

She smiled weakly at you, and suddenly your eyes filled with more tears as you began to shake again.

“I tried to go to Group and act like everything was normal, I really tried, Wanda, but I just couldn’t, I’m sorry, I’m so-”

Wanda rushed over to you, engulfing you in a hug, holding you tightly as you sobbed.

“It’s okay, malyshka, it’s alright. You didn’t do anything wrong. Breathe, sweet girl. I’m here. I’m right here, I promise.”

She continued to hold you and speak comforting words to you for what felt like hours, until your sobs eventually died down, and you pulled away, sniffling. You looked up at the sky as if just remembering it was pouring, before standing up from the bench.

“Sorry about that. We should probably go inside, it’s pouring, and I don’t want you to-”

“I love you,” Wanda blurted out, leaving you speechless. She stood up and took your hands, mentally breathing a sigh of relief when you don't pull away. “I’m in love with you. I’m so sorry for not admitting it to myself, or you, sooner. Me saying that I could never love you? That was the grief speaking. I shouldn’t have let it control me like that. And I’m done. I’m done letting it control me. The truth is, anyone would be lucky to love you. And I do. I love you. I love your smile, I love your kind heart. I love your baked treats, which, by the way, I just learned were yours about an hour ago,” She says, and you let out a wet laugh. “I shouldn’t have said those things,” She continued, “It was wrong. I’m in love with you. And I understand if you don’t want to give me a second chance, because-”

You cut her off by smashing your lips against hers, and without hesitation, she kissed back, her arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer. The two of you only pulled away when you let out a violent shiver because of the rain. She looked at you concerned, but you merely laughed, pulling her in for another kiss.

*****************************************************************************************************

“Detka, I’m home!” Wanda called out, wondering where you were. Her questions were answered when a delicious smell hit her. She walked into the kitchen and smiled adoringly at you. You were moving around the kitchen, flour in your hair, and batter all over your clothes, completely in your own little world.

“Detka,” Wanda tries again, and you spin around, holding a spatula out in front of you as a form of defense.

“Shit, Wanda, sorry, you scared me!” You said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“My how the tables have turned,” she says teasingly, before removing the spatula from your hand and licking it.

“Wanda,” you pouted, “I was using that! Now I have to wash it!”

Wanda kissed the pout off of your face, before smiling at you triumphantly at doing so.

“Or, you could stop baking for the night and come cuddle with me and watch Bewitched,” she suggested, giving you those adorable puppy dog eyes.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You know I can’t resist that face. Okay. Give me 10 minutes to get showered and then I’ll join you on the couch.”

“I’ll be counting!” She called as you made your way to the bathroom.

It had been 5 years since that night in the rain, and as she sat down on the couch, gazing down at the wedding band that adorned her left hand, she still couldn’t believe how she had gotten so lucky to find another love. You were beautiful, kind, and patient, and she loved you with every ounce of her heart.

“What are you thinking about, pretty girl?” You asked with a smile, before settling down next to her on the couch and curling into her side.

“You. It’s always you,” she replied, kissing your temple.

You smile lovingly at her. “I love you, Wanda.”

“And I love you, beautiful girl.”

And as the two of you sat there, snuggled up, and watched Bewitched, both of you were so grateful that Wanda had made room for another love.

[spicysoftsweet]

the devil is a fornicator, incubus!sukuna x reader

summary: sukuna, a well-known incubus is quite fond of you.

warnings: home invasion, noncon, double penetration, size kink ig, degradation, monster form! sukuna

a/n: there is no plot here just porn lmao. enjoy.

It’s the dead of night and the incubus has returned, you realize once you’ve awoken in a shock of blinding pain, only to gaze directly into the demon’s endless eyes hovering over you, illuminated dimly by the pale moonlight that streams through your thin curtains.

He grins, revealing rows of gleaming sharp teeth.

“Did you miss me?”

His voice is a snarl that drips heavily in sarcasm, seemingly echoing in the silence of the room.

Tonight, much like every other night, you’re not sure how you ended up caged in two sets of arms stronger than wrought iron, your mind steeped in a deep, impenetrable fog and your body languid and stretched to the limit as you’re all but impaled over a monstrously sized pair of cocks. But it’s a matter of course - the demon Sukuna has picked you and continues to choose you again and again.

There’s more than one reason he’s called the King of Curses.

Aside from the fact that he has claimed you only because you are eternally damned, expletives fall out of his mouth as naturally as rain drops from the sky; harsh, caustic is the feel of his rough hands on your skin, if you can really call them something as human as hands.

“You’re pathetic, really, sniveling all because of a little pain?”

Even though his voice is light and jeering, you’re not meant to answer and you don’t dare to. All you can do is whimper, and your soft, miserable sobs delight him.

“You should be thankful I’ve become somewhat partial to a weak, worthless little thing like you.”

The palm that presses down on your neck, making it hard for you to draw air into your lungs, is so heavy - heavier than the weight of his body that carelessly crushes your fragile one.

Even if he is holding most of his weight, you are still so tiny, so small in comparison to his huge figure. He’s massive, truly, but you’re not exactly sure how large he is...  he visits you under the cover of dark, and you swear the size of his shadow varies each time. 

But the configuration of his form is always the same, and he makes good use of his supernatural anatomy - a hand presses on your neck, another grasps relentlessly at your hair and tugs mercilessly, and two more are placed oppressively on your hips, gripping tightly enough to leave blotchy discoloration on your skin. A tongue that protrudes from somewhere within the dense muscles of his abdomen laps furiously at your bare skin, now covered in a thin layer of sweat from the heat he generates. The rough, wet strokes only worsen your sensitivity but you barely shudder because he holds you so still that you have no agency to move.

But where could you go?

You want to explode.

“It hurts, doesn’t it? Being splayed out like this?” His head lowers so that he can whisper directly into your ear, as he continues to pet your scalp. His fingers curl around your neck, and you gasp involuntarily; you can practically feel the way his lips curl into a smile, his cheek is so close to yours.

Of course it hurts. It hurts so bad, it hurts so good, your heart hurts, your pussy aches.

“I’m too big, aren’t I? You can’t take me in that tight little cunt of yours, can you?” 

It’s true - you shouldn’t be able to take him. In fact, you’re amazed that he manages to fit despite everything, however painfully so, and if your head were a bit clearer, you’d wonder if it’s a bit of magic that keeps you from splitting in half so that he can have his fun night after night. It does help that you’re dripping wet, seeping around him enough that you can feel the unmistakable moist sensation between your legs that is your arousal, more slippery than perspiration.

“What would you do if I got bigger inside you? Will I tear you apart, little one?”

Please have mercy.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and your body is quivering, and if it weren’t for the fact that he has you pinned down, unable to move an inch, your whole body would be convulsing. You are too full, too tender, too stimulated and he’s barely even moving yet, aside from the occasional tortuous twitch of one of the penises inside you. It’s torture, the way your body clenches desperately around him, pleading for some friction. The rise and fall of your chest as you pant in a strained, almost wheezing cacophony - you don’t dare whine, you’ll take whatever he offers you - seems to delight him, and his hand releases around your neck. He thumbs instead at your quivering lower lip, his own lips pressing onto your neck.

It’s almost a mockery of tenderness, the pecks he gives the curve of your jaw as he jams two fingers now down your throat making you gag. 

He loves to hear you choke, and he sinks his hands into the futon so that he can grasp handfuls of your ass and lift up.

Once he adjusts himself so that he is kneeling onto the bed and your hips are hoisted off the ground, he pushes deeper inside you and you cry out around his fingers in your mouth.

But once he starts moving, you are too stimulated to cry. 

Sukuna fucks you loudly, lewdly, animalistic groans and foul language filling the air as he thrusts in and out of you like you’re nothing but a mere cocksleeve, ignoring whatever screams and moans come out of your mouth. You move so quickly, slammed almost perpendicularly against his pelvis, hard, that your thoughts go from fogged up to scrambled until you’re dizzy and wordless, sniveling, forgetting how to form the words to beg him to stop.

Do you want him to stop? Being fucked dumb maybe the only good part of this curse after all. 

He plays with your pert nipples as he slams you down onto his cocks; he shifts you upright briefly, sitting with his legs crossed to minimize his own effort as he pistons you up and down forcefully onto his lap.

Too many eyes focus in on the grotesque, fucked-out expression you make, your tongue lolling out helplessly and your breasts bouncing recklessly as he moves you.

“You almost look half-decent like this...” he teases, a pleased smirk gracing his hideous smirk. Again, he has to steady you, bringing your arms behind you and holding you taut so that you don’t collapse onto him,  you are nothing but a brainless toy, after all. By this point of the night, he can’t expect you to keep your posture. He’s not that cruel.

“You’re no different than a little lamb. Innocent, cute, powerless. I could swallow you whole.”

You let out a drawn out moan from an orgasm that springs forth from so deep inside you that it reverberates throughout your whole body and he laughs. In fact, he cackles wildly as you jerk violently forward, your shoulders almost risking dislocation as you move due to the fact that your wrists are still firmly in his grasp. 

“Aren’t you going to beg me to stop? Or are you just going to keep cumming like the dirty little cursed slut you are?”

You know he won’t stop. Not for hours. Not until he eventually releases hot, sticky, endless ropes of cum inside you until you pass out, until the next morning where you wake up in a cold sweat after repetitive nightmares of giving birth to hellspawn.

His two upper hands cup your face that is exhausted, weary, miserable, and dazed from fucking that will go on endlessly and for as long as he feels like it. Sucking away all your vital energy. Ruining your soul. Wrecking your body. 

His fingers caress your skin, even if he’s still pounding relentlessly into you and you’re only a few more strokes away from another gut-wrenching climax.

Sukuna kisses you passionately and you don’t think, because if there is anything you know for a fact, it’s that the devil is a liar and tonight’s lie is that you’re anything more than a hapless human he likes to fuck.

[griffintail]

I know you write about parental stuff for a lot of characters in the Dream SMP, but I was wondering if you could write something for Quackity?

I’ve seen some writers write about Philza finding a winged child with their wings clipped, and since everyone seems to headcanon Quackity as a duck hybrid with wings that were clipped by Shlatt during his presidency, I thought it would be interesting to see how Big Q would react to finding someone did something similar to a child.

Plus I just like the thought of him as Papa Duck, and calling his kid “Duckling”. It’s just really adorable, okay? I’m in a fluffy mood, and there’s ducks/ ducklings in my yard all the time, so needless to say I’ve grown to really like ducks over the years.

Ducklings are so cute!

However, this went a bit more angsty than planned...I still hope you enjoy it! There is fluffy parts in there!

Duckling

Pairings: Parental! Quackity x F! Child! Reader

Warnings: Blood, Harm done to a child, Implied Past Abuse, Wounds, Angstish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        It was any other day in New L’Manberg.

        Quackity woke up, tended to his wounds to make sure they healed properly, changed into a clean outfit, then walked out of his home with his usual smile. He was able to have usual banter with his friends, laughing a true laugh making him feel relief each time as he didn’t have to hold anything back. Going to have his daily meeting with Tubbo and the rest of the cabinet was when his day changed drastically.

        He was walking to the building when he saw a small sagging figure. Straightening up, he carefully went over.

        “Hello?”

        The figure looked up and he froze seeing the pain-filled face of a little girl. She stared for a moment before starting to fall.

        “Help…be free…”

        Her eyes closed as she fell to the ground and Quackity quickly rushed forward and caught her. As he did, he winced at the wet feeling as he held her back.

        “Oh please.” He muttered before carefully moving her in his arms.

        His blood boiled as he went pale.

        The back of their shirt was soaked completely in blood and he could easily tell that she was still bleeding.

        “Shit.” He scooped her up completely.

        He ran as fast as he could to the meeting building, bursting through, scaring everyone inside.

        “Quackity, you’re la—” Fundy started.

        “What the hell is that?!” Ranboo jumped up seeing the blood-soaked shirt that was starting to coat Quackity’s hands.

        “She’s losing blood fast,” Quackity said, putting the girl on the table. “I need help.”

        Fundy rushed to grab potions as Tubbo took off his jacket, Ranboo shuffling next to Quackity as he took the little girl’s shirt off.

        “Is that—” Ranboo gripped onto the front of his shirt as the other two eyes went wide looking at Quackity.

        “She’s losing blood!” Quackity snapped at all of them and everyone worked past their shock to help him.

        On the little girl’s back were two large wounds, very similar to the ones on Quackity’s back. He couldn’t think about it though, she was losing blood and he couldn’t let his anger control him at this moment.

        Everyone worked quick and by the end, the potion had slowed down the bleeding enough for Ranboo to close up the wounds and cease the bleeding. Finally, they could all breathe as they stared at the little girl, who they had wrapped in Fundy’s jacket.

        “Someone did that to her.” Tubbo finally said, the weight crushing the room.

        “…Doesn’t matter anymore,” Quackity spoke up. “She lives in L’Manberg now and won’t see whoever did it again. She’s free.”

        “She’s a kid Quackity, someone’s going to have to take care of her.” Fundy reminded him. “And what if she has parents—?”

        Fundy couldn’t get out another word before Quackity shouted. “If she does, where the hell were they when the monster did this?! If she does have parents, they just lost their rights as parents.”

        He felt the wounds on his back ached as he remembered the day, he lost his wings, his jaw clenching before he took a deep breath.

        “I’ll take her. I know how to take care of her wounds and I’ll be able to help her.” Quackity finally told them.

        “Are you sure?” Tubbo asked carefully.

        “Positive.” He nodded with confidence.

        He didn’t know what he was doing really when he came home and laid the little girl down on his bed for now. It was all a mystery really but he did believe that no one besides him could take care of her right. They had something horrible that connected them but he was hoping to help her through the pain better than he had dealt with it.

        From there, he worked on making his home a bit tidier, really trying to keep his mind busy from the anger he felt to whoever did this to her. If he ever found out who did this, there’d be no mercy. As he was putting away a few potions’ bottles, he heard a small squeak and he went back to his room. The little girl was sitting up, face screwed up in pain.

        “Hey, kid,” Quackity said quietly and she looked at him startled. “It’s ok, I’m the guy you ran into remember?”

        She thought for a moment before nodding as he nodded as well grabbing a regeneration and health potion.

        “A few friends and I healed and stitched you, you’ll need to take it easy for a long while so you don’t irritate your wounds or open them again. You mind if I put a bit of these on them to help them heal?”

        “What are they?” She muttered.

        “This is a regeneration potion; it will help your wounds close a bit easier so it won’t take months for them to close. This is a healing potion; it will help with the pain and keep you from getting sick because of your wounds.”

        She stared at the shining liquids before slowly nodding again. “Ok.”

        He came up behind her and lifting the jacket, reminding himself to return it to Fundy, before carefully first pouring the regeneration on the wounds. She winced and whimpered in pain.

        “Yeah, I know kid. It’s going to hurt for a while.” He mumbled as he finished on the other one as quickly as he could but making sure it got done before using the health potion. “This should help a bit.”

        “How do you know?” She asked curiously as she winced again.

        He paused before putting the jacket down. “It’s a long story. Now you’re probably starving. Let’s get some food.”

        It was a lot to process in a short amount of time, but, process Quackity did.

        To start, Quackity made a spare room he had into her room. He set her up a bed to start and said, whatever else she wanted in there, he’d figure out. After establishing a space for her, he got to know her a bit better past the wounds on her back. Her name was (Y/N) and she was nine years old and she ran away from home. She liked books but she also liked to run around outside.

        Knowing that Quackity asked to borrow more simple books from Ghostbur and would let her run around close by as he’d do his daily days. He tried to make her happy and she often was, the small shell she had breaking when around him. Slowly, but surely, she loved to follow him around and enjoyed talking with him, to which people would joke calling her his little duckling.

        He supposed that was where the nickname came from as he had started to call her that after a few short weeks of her living with him.

        It was a bit awkward for him to transition into taking care of two people instead of one for a while but he eventually got the hang of that too. With that, he also transitioned his days differently. In the early morning, he’d take care of his wounds before helping her with hers a couple of hours later.

        The two had a bit of an unspoken rule. He never asked what happened to her wings if she didn’t ask how he knew how to take care of her wounds.

        It changed though when he was doing the daily potion ritual. She had accidentally slept on her back and irritated her wounds a bit so it took a bit longer than usual. With him spending so much carefully taking care of the wounds, she wanted to talk about them.

        “My dad took my wings away.” She muttered and Quackity froze in his work. “They were a lot like mommy’s…he took them away so I stopped looking like mommy…”

        He was trying to keep his breathing under control as his thoughts went wild. He was hoping that maybe, as horrible as it was, that she was alone and some cruel person out in the world had done it. Yet, it was her father and it infuriated him so much, that he wanted to hunt this bastard down. However, …

        (Y/N) sniffled and he pulled her shirt down before sitting next to her, putting his arm around her.

        “Hey, little duckling, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. He’s not your dad if he did something like this to you. I’m sorry he took them away from you, I know wings are very special.”

        “They were fluffy.” She murmured as tears started to streak down her face.

        “I bet they were. If I could get them back for you, I would. Instead, though, we’ll live like this and smile on the ground because even without any wings, we’re still pretty special.” He told her, rubbing her arm.

        He promised he’d destroy the man that use to be in her life, but today…

        She hugged him and he squeezed her back.

        Today was all about her.

        Weeks passed and Quackity was smiling as (Y/N) ran ahead, bouncing as she looked back at him.

        “Come on papa duck! I want to see the new books!”

        “I’m coming, you’re just too fast duckling.” He put a hand on his chest dramatically.

        She giggled as she turned around, going to where Ghostbur was waiting outside the entrance to the sewer. The ghost eagerly showed the little girl the new books he had “found” and Quackity merely stood to the side, pleased with the excitement (Y/N) had coursing through her. Ghostbur lent her one of the books and Quackity nodded to him.

        “Thanks, Ghostbur.” Quackity waved as he walked off with the little girl.

        He never thought he’d be doing something like this in his life, but he didn’t mind. It was a nice change of pace.

        Ghostbur smiled as he watched them walk off. They were always so adorable together, even with the black transparent wings on both of them. As they walked away, one of the wings was wrapped around (Y/N) as her tiny fluffy ones flapped in excitement. Very lovely.

[catchmewiddershins]

Haikyuu Hugs pt 4:

FUKURODANI

Bokuto Koutarou:

THE ONE YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR

THE BEST HUGGER IN THE ENTIRE SERIES

THE BIG MAN HIMSELF

He is the absolute KING of hugs, let me tell you

If you want hugs, he's got you, 900%

All you have to do is hold out your arms and your face will be buried in his chest before you can say Hoot

When he wants hugs he'll stare at you and blink a bunch to get your attention

Or sometimes he'll pout at you, or rest his head on you until you notice

Before we get into the pillow qualities of this man though, let's discuss his hug technique

The kind of man who you can go to when you’re scared, and he’ll wrap you up and whisper reassurances and loving words to you because he is whipped 

He can pull off ANY SORT OF HUG

Lying down? Head on chest or thighs, you can fall asleep as he plays with your hair or wraps his arms around you

Sitting down? You can sit on his lap, or drape yourself over his shoulders, or he'll drape over yours!

Standing? He'll hug you straight on, facing you, arms at your waist. He'll hug you from behind, a protective weight at your back, resting his chin on your head.

He has a habit of squeezing you to him, arms round your shoulder blades

His arms are SO BIG and he's SO BEEFY and PLEASE getting hugged to his massive, warm chest is a DREAM COME TRUE

The CUDDLE MASTER

And finally, my magnum opus, the ultimate Bokuto hug:

If you see each other after a while, he'll run to you, especially if you run to him, he'll squeeze you to his chest and hoist you into the air with a joyous laugh, spinning the both of you around before slowing, holding you close as he sways you, humming softly in your ear

Ah that felt good to get off my chest man do I long to hug this man~

Washio Tatsuki:

Tall + Intimidating looking + Strong, silent type? You know this man gives good hugs

Very warm, very safe, like a tower with the insides of a fluffy blanket

Honestly? He’s pretty quiet, not too into loud and exuberant hugging or whispered conversations, but he is so good for comfort cuddles

Anytime you need sheltering from the world, or you’re just tired and stressed, you can go to him and he’ll hug you when you relax, sleep, or vent to him

He’s an incredible listener, he loves to lie on the sofa with you on his chest as you talk about anything

He’ll stroke your cheek or hair, or rub circles on your back with a soft smile

I actually think that, once you’ve been friends or in a relationship for a while, that he’d get a little clingy, once you’re close

He seems to have this stony, blunt, stern face that he shows the world, and that is who he is, but he also really cares for you and he wants to make sure you’re ok, and he will approach you for hugs if he can sense that something is up

Sometimes he’ll hug you to him and he’ll muse quietly over some things he needs to do, or something he’s working on; only short sentences but that’s all he needs to convey his meaning, lulling you to sleep with the low rumble of his chest

Once you fall asleep he’ll press a kiss to the top of your head and whisper ‘I love you’

Sarukui Yamato:

When I tell you that there is SO LITTLE on this man’s personality-

Anyway, I am taking the very very little we see of him and running with it so-

~ahem~

He really loves giving you little kisses while hugging you!

There you’ll both be, standing around, and before you know it he’s got you pressed to his chest, dotting your cheeks, nose and brow with tiny kisses, short, sweet and loving

He does longer kisses too! He’ll press a kiss to your lips mid-embrace, holding it for a little just so you can feel how much he loves you

He’ll do the same if you’re cuddling while laying down, just kiss your face or hands without pulling away for a while

His favourite thing to do is rest his face against your neck or collarbone, letting his lips linger against your skin, not fully kissing it but feeling it, loving the contact between you

He trusts you with his problems, and will sometimes come to you when stressed or annoyed, and vent to you a little while your fingers run through his hair, a feeling that he finds incredibly reassuring

He’s also a fiddler, he’ll fiddle with your hair or clothes or fingers while cuddling, or he’ll paint patterns on your arms with his fingers, twisting fabric into whorls as you cuddle

Akaashi Keiji:

Ah~ another beautiful character! There are far too many of these in this show, it’ll be the death of us all 

Regardless - I think Akaashi began a little more uncomfortable with physical contact! He didn’t jump straight into the hug life, but stepped in gradually, yet once he became comfortable oh you’ve unleashed a monster

Akaashi prefers to be calm, collected and polite around others, so it is with you that he unwinds the most

He absolutely adores laying with his head in your lap, letting you play with his curls as he gestures emphatically towards the ceiling while describing his day and how the team is doing

He’s a sway hugger too, he’ll rock you gently from side to side as you embrace, one hand firm at your back or waist

He has a habit of making little sarcastic comments while you hug too, things about what his teammates or other schools have been up to

He gets a little touchy at points, brushing his hands past your arms or shoulders while you work, or using you as a head rest - casual contact for the win here

Considering his habit to overthink, he’ll seek you out whenever his thoughts begin running too wildly

At his point he’ll curl up in a blanket with his head on your chest, talking out his thoughts as you whisper to him - he finds your presence to be the most calming thing in the world

He likes to kiss your hands too, before embracing you - he has this little thing he’ll do

He’ll offer you his hand, and when you take it he’ll press a kiss to your fingers, or the back of your hand, before sweeping you towards him and wrapping you in a hug

He then begins laughing, and he has the most enchanting giggles - they range from quiet to full on snorting, but all of them are some of the beautiful laughter you’ve ever heard

Konoha Akinori:

In all honesty, Konoha is really hard to characterise - I have like... two routes I could go down and I can’t choose... So I’m going to throw in elements of both! Enjoy!

First of all, this guy is really fun and teasing and his hugs reflect this

Another sway hugger, but not gentle swaying, but happy swaying, almost like dancing, you can tell he’s happy as he swishes you around within his clasps, laughing all the while

He likes to flirt a little too as you hug, both hands at your hips and his words a breeze by the shell of your ear, words of affection and admiration for how wonderful you look today

He likes to be the big spoon, and will hug you from behind constantly - he loves to have you laying on him, or to rest his head on yours or your shoulder, humming a small tune 

He actually enjoys giving you massages too! His fingers are long and dexterous, and dig perfectly into the knots that the muscles of your back form after a long day, moulding you into a relaxed puddle like a vat of kinetic sand

On the flip side, he harbours several insecurities over his supposed lack of outstanding talent, being the ‘jack of all trades’ and not having a specific ‘thing’

Some days this will hit him hard, and he’ll come to you - lay down his head and close his eyes

He knows you’ll feel his hurt - and nothing cheers him up like your reassurances that he is good enough and that every person with one talent needs an all rounder to back them up and that he’s more useful in the long run

It reassures him, and he smiles as he soaks up your warmth - knowing that he is master of one thing and it’s loving you

Anahori Shūichi:

He’s so sweet and excitable! 

Such loving and enthusiastic hugs from him, because you are his whole world

He will squeeze you to his chest with the utmost abandon and give you little kisses all over your face

He does puppy eyes when he wants a hug

When you first became close, he was often a bit nervous to approach you if he wanted a hug

But over time he became more comfortable... and adorably clingy as a result

He’ll always back off if you’re not in the mood - but this man wants his cuddles

CHAIR CUDDLE KING!

Oh what’s a chair cuddle? Only his favourite hug in the world

The BEST hug you can give him is one where he sits in a chair (preferably a massive, squishy armchair) and you sit on his lap and let him cuddle you

Facing towards or away from him he loves it, just having his arms around your waist as you watch something together

He also loves to sit in your lap, if you’ll have him, either as a joke or sincerely

Just this man... he loves the cuddle

Woollen blanket levels of snuggleeeeeeeeeee

Please stroke his hair he loves it

Komi Haruki:

Another energetic boy (this poor team’s coach rip)

He loves you

Like really loves you

And he wants to tell you that over and over again!

While he hugs you he will definitely whisper sweet nothings into your ear and tell you he adores you

Cuddles all day, cuddles all night!

Will cuddle you in his sleep, like you’re laying in bed and you wake up in the middle of the night for whatever reason and he will be snuggling you so hard

One arm thrown over you and his nose at your neck and he’s so happy there that you’d feel really bad moving him

Also definitely headcanon he’s warm

Not open oven Bokuto warm but...

In a room with a log fire in the corner on a winter’s day warm

Very cozy and comforting, also very sweet with you

Will tell you about the funny parts of his day while hugging

Onaga Wataru:

He’s less enthusiastic than some of our previous boys for sure

But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love you just as much

I’m feeling sappy tonight so honestly? You are his everything

But headcanon! I don’t think he’s the best exactly at speaking his emotions

Oh he cherishes you with everything he has but he’s relatively quiet and finds it hard to express all that sheer emotion with words

In his mind, letters don’t cut it - how can a mere human mouth fully express the depth of the heart’s devotion? His love is more than words it’s colours and feelings and everything he associates with you and he is not (in his mind) eloquent enough to tell you

But he wants to

So? Hugs

When he hugs you this man puts his all into it

His squeeze is the perfect tightness, not too weak, not too tight

When his arms wrap perfectly around your shoulders, he tries to push all of his feelings into the hug

He wants to transmit his love for you through the physical contact

Long hugger definitely, he can hold you for hours

Will DROP EVERYTHING to hug you if you ask - no matter how important, you are first

Sturdy hugs and frame as well, just a good hugger

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Logan but getting pumped full of everyone's eggs

Breeding

DRLAMP (Janus x Remus x Logan x Virgil x Patton x Roman) Warnings: oviposition, overstimulation, inflation, aphrodisiac, tentacles, monster fucking, double penetration, marking, biting, plugs, restraints, sex, crying, bleeding, breeding,  degradation, venom, hair-pulling, finger sucking, cock and ball torture, choking Word Count: 9600

A heavy weight plopping itself onto Logan's midsection is what wakes him up. He's confused at first, before the blurry sight of someone atop him comes into view, illuminated only by the small amount of light leaking into his room from the hallway.

Logan groans as he reaches over to the nightstand and grabs his glasses, sliding them onto his face. He also sneaks a glance at the clock while he's looking that way, and sees that it's two in the morning.

He looks back to the figure on top of him, who's now rolling their hips against Logan, and sees that it's none other than Remus.

Specifically, a naked Remus, who's tentacles are out and writhing, and Logan can see that they're even leaking, drops of whatever substance that is getting over Logan's shirt and his sheets.

"What do you want, Remus?" Logan asks, voice groggy. At the sound of his voice, Remus's crimson eyes snap open, and his tentacles all seem to freeze mid-air. He lets out a mix between a laugh and a pant after a moment though.

"My- my tentacles," he stammers out, still grinding against Remus's body. The tentacles sprouting from Remus's back, and the one between his legs, go back to squirming. Although now they move towards Logan, feeling over his calves and lower thighs, while Remus's tentacle cock uncoordinatedly rubs at Logan's boxers.

"Your tentacles?" Logan inquires, needing more than just that as an answer.

"They need to breed," Remus explains, in between short breaths. "I need to breed. I need to pump my eggs into you, my nerdy fucktoy. Fill you up and breed you so good. My tentacles are all practically bursting with eggs and I need to empty them inside of your tight hole."

Logan's face was pink, but he just sighs as he asks "at two-am? You couldn't wait?"

Remus rapidly shakes his head, before he leans down so that he and Logan's lips were almost touching. "Please? Pretty please, Logan? Let me fuck and breed you, baby, come on!"

"Hush, Remus," comes another voice from the doorway, and Remus snaps his head towards the voice, slightly unhappy someone was disturbing his precious time with Logan.

The silhouette of the figure steps into the room, and as he moves closer, it's revealed that it's Janus (sans hat and cape).

He strolls up next to Logan, and clicks on the lamp on his nightstand. Janus barely glances towards Remus, before looking back at Logan. As Logan stares back, and scans over his body, he can tell that Janus is very hard in his pajama pants.

"Not you too," Logan says, receiving a soft laugh in return.

"I'm afraid I don't have much of a choice in the matter," Janus states, eyes shining with amusement. "I need to empty my eggs and, well, you're the only one around who doesn't experience this."

"Piss off, J-anus," Remus growls. "I got here first!" Remus pulls Logan up by his shoulders, his arms and tentacles wrapping around him and holding him against Remus's chest. The substance they're covered in is seeping through the material of his shirt, and the skin on his back gets weirdly hot and sensitive.

The tentacle between Remus's legs is doing the same thing to his crotch. It's been rubbing at his boxers, and now the liquid is seeping through, making Logan's cock uncomfortably hard and leaking.

Janus tuts, as he crawls on the bed and moves behind Logan, wrapping his arms around Logan's midsection, and burying his face in Logan's neck. His teeth are trailing over the skin there, but he's staring at Remus.

"He belongs to all of us," Janus reminds him, with a hum. "You have to learn to share."

Remus narrows his eyes, only for Janus to nibble on Logan's earlobe, whispering "can I bite you, darling? Inject you with venom? You know it'll feel so good."

Logan's breath hitches at the mere thought, and he's quick to nod and blurt out "yes, please."

With a grin, Janus doesn't hesitate to bite down, Logan gasping as his skin is broken by Janus's fangs, only to feel Janus's venom being injected into his body. He can hardly get out Janus's name before he begins feeling it's affects; his body grows increasingly hot, and his face flushes. His cock strains in his boxers, and as Janus's hands start to roam over Logan's body (or, more specifically, the places that weren't covered by the tentacles), Logan found himself arching into the overwhelming touch.

Each gentle stroke or light scratch drew rather pathetic whines from him, and when he opened his eyes - which he doesn't remember closing - Remus is staring at him like Logan's his helpless prey.

Janus is whispering in his ear. Thing's along the line of "we're gonna fill you so full of our eggs" and "you'd like being fucked and bred, wouldn't you? Our good little slut," are slipping out of Janus's mouth, and Logan is whimpering and agreeing with each one.

Before they can do anything, though, there's a knock at Logan's open door, and when the three of them look over there, there's Patton. He has green splotches over his face and arms, and just like the other two, he's visibly hard through his comfy pants.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Patton says, with a flush to his cheeks. "But it appears that I'm in the same predicament as the both of you."

"How fortunate," Janus mutters, bitterly, and Logan would snicker if the thought of Patton on him too didn't make him let out a needy moan. Patton seems to process this, and smiles as he moves closer, wiggling between Remus and Logan, much to Remus's dismay. He plops himself in Logan's lap, and Logan eagerly leans up to kiss him, his head growing more hazy and horny by the second, thanks to Janus's venom and the chemical from Remus's tentacles seeping into his skin.

Janus hisses and Remus growls at the fact Patton got first kiss, and so the moment they pull away Janus grips Logan's hair and roughly tugs his hair back, and pulls him into a kiss of his own.

They're all fighting amongst each other for Logan's body and attention, and another knock on the door irritates them all.

"Uh... I can see that this is a bad time," someone, who they then see is Virgil, says. His nails are noticeably sharper, even from this far away, as are his teeth - his canines long enough to protrude his lips. Beneath his bangs are his normal eyes, and below those are a couple smaller eyes, all blinking in tandem with Virgil.

He's staring at Logan, hard as well, but despite the desperation clear in his voice, he seems willing to leave the other three with their boyfriend and find a way to take care of himself alone, up until Logan moans out "Virgil!"

Virgil's head snaps towards Logan, momentarily caught off guard by how pathetic Logan sounded. He stalks closer, and he and Janus hiss at each other as he wiggles next to him, grabbing Logan and holding him protectively. Logan immediately leans back into Virgil's arms, his head laying back on Virgil's shoulder and exposing his pretty, pale neck, bare aside from two puncture marks where Virgil can obviously tell Janus pumped him full of venom.

"The others all want the same thing I do, huh," he says, quietly, nibbling lightly on Logan's earlobe and causing him to draw in a sharp breath. "To pump you full of my eggs and breed you properly."

Logan moans at his words, attempting to roll his hips up against anything, desperate for friction.

"Why did no one tell me we were all meeting up with Logan?!" a dramatic voice shouts from the door, and no one needs to look to tell that it's Roman. Both because only he is that loud and dramatic, and because he's the only one not yet in the room.

Logan does look though, and if he was in the right mind, he'd be more intrigued by the fact Roman has his tentacles out. In a contrast to Remus's bright green, uncontrollable tentacles, Romans were red and were more steady with their movements, although they still seemed to drift towards Logan.

Like the others, he's visibly horny, and probably in need of getting his eggs out if he's so willing to show his extra, writhing limbs.

Roman has openly expressed his dislike for them, especially because it's another thing he has in common with Remus, but at the moment Logan stared at them in open arousal, desperately wanting them inside of him. Actually, he wanted anything inside of him. He'd take what he could get.

"Ugh, they always leave me out of the loop, mi amor," Roman coos, as he moves closer, and he and Remus growl at each other as he forces himself to sit next to his brother.

Remus's tentacles, having been able to sense Logan's desperation, had already started to slip under the logical side's clothes best he could. Patton in his lap prevented them from getting beneath the boxers, so with a glance between each other, Roman scooped Patton up and gently tossed him to the side, giving them free access to do what they wanted with Logan.

Now it'd just be a fight over who gets him first.

"Logan- Lo, baby," Remus grunts, hardly resisting the impulse to slam Logan down where he was and fuck him senseless. "Let me... let us," he growls that bit out bitterly, clearly unhappy that everyone wanted to use Logan when he got here first, but he supposed there was no getting rid of them now, "use you," he finishes. "Please? We need you so bad."

Murmurs of agreement came from all around him, and whether it be due to the venom in him, or his desire to be bred, Logan nods and blabbers "use me, please! I need it; I need all of you. Want all your eggs inside of me, please!"

Patton coos at his desperation, and Virgil and Janus don't hesitate to move out of the way just enough so that Logan can be pinned to his back against the mattress.

Shooting a knowing look towards Remus, Virgil pushes up the sleeve of his pajama shirt just enough to expose his wrist. He bends his arm so that it's positioned towards the headboard, and Janus speaks for him.

"Logan, dear, if we do absolutely anything that makes you uncomfortable, or if you want to just stop, what do you say?"

"Yellow," Logan grits out, flushed as Remus's tentacles writhe over his body, easily pulling his shirt up and over his head. The article of clothing is discarded in moments. "Or red, in the sit... situ... event I want to stop," he finishes, managing a small smile amongst the arousal, so that Janus and Virgil could be eased knowing that, for now at least, he was comfortable.

Remus pins Logan's hands above his head, before he shifts them slightly so that they're up against the headboard, and Virgil takes that as his cue to shoot a string of webbing from a tiny hole on his wrist and basically tie Logan's hands to the headboard. The webs were strong, strong enough that Logan wiggling his arms didn't budge them at all. Someone would have to cut through them in order to free him, but for now that was just about the last thought on anyone's mind.

Remus quickly works Logan's boxers off with his hands, before his wrist is suddenly grabbed by Janus.

"Wait," the deceitful side begins. "Who gets him first."

"I want him first!" comes Roman's dramatic whine, only for Virgil to growl at him.

"Back off, Princey," he snarls, with a glare. "Last to show up doesn't get the first taste."

"Oh! Can I get him first? Pretty please?" Patton begs, scooting closer to Logan and receiving growls from the four others in response.

"First come first serve," Remus spits, as his sharp nails dig into Logan's hips. "I was here first. I get to breed him first."

"That's hardly fair!"

"Piss off Roman. Or I'll knock you out and you can skip getting to empty your eggs in him at all." As he speaks, Remus's and tentacles have been slithering over Logan's body, and the tip of one teases his lips. Logan obediently opens his mouth for it, and it slips in, more of the  sweet substance it's coated in dripping down his throat and making his body increasingly hotter.

Remus moans as Logan starts sucking on the tip. Despite the fact he's had Remus's tentacles in him before, he was still always caught off guard by how they felt - the suckers occasionally getting stuck to his tongue, and the easy way that the appendage slipped down his throat. He didn't gag - they'd done this enough that he was pretty confident in his deep throating abilities - but it still felt weird. Weird and good.

And it made Remus tighten his hold on him. "Fuck... what a good boy. You know just what to do with your mouth, huh? Slutty bitch."

"So, are we going on the order of arrival, then?" Janus asks, with a hum, as he works to pull the rest of his clothes off of his body. The others follow his lead as their clothes are quickly tossed off the bed and towards the floor. Any embarrassment towards them being naked is discarded and instead replaced with utter lust and the urge to breed.

Although annoyed he doesn't get to go first, Janus is content with getting Logan second. He was patient enough to wait a bit, although he was sure the others couldn't say the same.

Roman stomps his foot at the mere notion. "No! That's not what we're doing. I demand we come up with a different order."

Remus ignores him, and Janus merely rolls his eyes. Virgil was near last too, but he bit his tongue, and smacks Roman upside the head instead. "Patience, Princey," he hisses, clearly annoyed with Roman's usual flamboyant nature. His impatience was going to get him beat

Patton just grumbles out an unhappy but accepting agreement, and Remus is pleased that they've worked all that shit out, allowing him to finally direct a tentacle towards Logan's hole.

The chemical substance that has been making Logan's body hot serves as a lubricant too, so it easily slips into his hole, drawing a moan from Logan. If any of the others weren't so  worried about depositing their eggs into him, they'd probably take up fucking his mouth.

But, since it was unoccupied, a thinner tentacle, presumably one with out eggs, slides towards Logan's mouth, and Logan opens right up to accept it.

His tongue works over the suckers, and Remus moans at the feeling. "Fuck, Logan, your tight hole and hot mouth feel so good around my tentacles. Slutty bitch, you'd suck eagerly on whatever slips past your lips, wouldn't you?" he grits out, as he guides another tentacle to Logan's hole, and then shoves that one in too, Logan jolting at the feeling.

He mumbles something muffled around the tentacle, and they're assured that it's not something bad due to the fact he remembers the safe motion, even when his mind his hazy with horniness.

The word "red," three taps, or three snaps, and he'd be unrestrained and they'd all baby over him despite their intense urge to breed, but they cared about him.

Chances are it was some sort of beg, and as much as they'd love to hear those, Logan seemed insistent on sucking the chemical off of the tentacle, and reacting positively as it made his body hotter and hotter, and clouded his mind with more and more pleasure.

The tentacles writhing in his ass buried themselves deeper, seemingly focused on feeling his insides, before one of them brushes up against his prostate, earning an eager moan, Logan's thighs spreading further apart.

"Oh... Logan," Remus coos, as the others watch him with a mixture of interest and desire. A glance at his cock would show it's already leaking, and out of courtesy, Patton reaches over to grab and slowly stroke it. Logan bucks his hips best he can into the touch, and Remus shoots a glare at the moral trait, but he doesn't tell him off. Logan might as well be touched, especially because he's willing to let them use him like a good boy, although it might not be good to stimulate him that much so soon.

A whine comes from Logan as one of the tentacles slithers out partially, but he cries out around the limb in his mouth as it roughly thrusts back into him, hitting his prostate and sending pleasure throughout his body. He clenches instinctively around the tentacles, and they both wiggle in presumable delight.

Wanting his hands on Logan as well, Janus tugs Remus's tentacle out of Logan's mouth, stroking over it with his own hand in order to coat it in the chemical, before he traces his thumb over Logan's bottom lip.

Logan eagerly licks where Janus's thumb swiped, before opening his mouth obediently, his tongue hanging out of his mouth in hopes he'd taste more of that addictingly sweet substance.

Janus coos at him, before he shoves his pointer and middle finger into Logan's mouth. Logan immediately closes his mouth around them, licking and sucking eagerly over Janus's sweet tasting fingers, and whining as Janus massages his tongue.

"So eager," Janus purrs, and Remus grunts from behind him, as his two tentacles speed up their thrusts into Logan's ass.

"So whorish," Remus corrects him. "He's a fucking slut, Janus. Willing to let us use and breed him like he's just a dumb fucking incubator."

"A hot fucking incubator," Roman murmurs, affectionately, as he carefully slides Logan's glasses off his face. He sets them back on his nightstand, and takes to brushing Logan's hair out of his face. Virgil takes to feeling him up, his claws dragging over Logan's chest, until they dip down and run over his balls. Virgil squeezes his sack and Logan jolts in pain, crying out around Janus's fingers.

It makes the three dark sides grin, while Roman and Patton watch Logan with pursed lips. They know he likes pain, but they still want to make sure he's okay.

"Pain-slut," Virgil grits out, as he quite roughly hits Patton's hand away from Logan's cock in order to smack it around himself.

Logan's mouth curls around Janus's fingers, his teeth firmly keeping them inside as he sucks desperately around them, and cries out pathetic moans and whines whenever Virgil's hands smack around his cock or squeezes his balls.

Roman and Patton sit off to the side, watching with great interest, but pouting over the other three getting to touch and play with their beloved toy.

Waiting their turns would be rough.

Especially because they could see the base of six more of Remus's tentacles swelling with what they presumed to be eggs. Roman would no doubt have the same ordeal, which is why Virgil, Janus, and Patton all internally sighed in relief that he'd have to go last.

Although, they're somewhat thankful when Remus suddenly groans, his cock coming over Logan's thighs. Small bulges of presumable eggs slide their way through Remus's two tentacles that have stilled in Logan's ass, and Logan cries out pathetically around Janus's fingers as he feels the eggs start to deposit themselves into his ass, as well as more of the chemical being emptied into him too.

Virgil quits slapping at his cock in order to firmly grasp it, and then he starts stroking rapidly, causing Logan's hips to buck as he moans, and then suddenly comes over Virgil's hand and his chest.

Virgil merely tuts, before wiping Logan's come against his own face, which makes him whine but otherwise just stare at Virgil with hazy, half-lidded eyes.

With all of the aphrodisiac coursing through his veins, thanks to Janus's venom and Remus's tentacles, Logan's body is still hot and he's still horny, and Patton takes over very slowly stroking his cock in order to work him quickly back up to full hardness.

After Remus's two tentacles are done emptying themselves into Logan, they pull away, but they're not done with him. One of them curls around the base of his cock, sliding past Patton's hand in order to lube his cock up with aphrodisiac, before it pulls away. Patton hums as his hand tingles, sliding his hand at a slightly quicker pace over Logan's now leaking cock.

The tentacle then slides down to Logan's ankle, with the other going to the other ankle, and they pull Logan's legs further apart.

With his legs spread further, two more tentacles slide towards his hole, and almost immediately push in afterwards, squelching around the eggs and come. They don't need to fuck him like the other tentacles did, now that they made sure most of the eggs were pushed deep into Logan, so they just bury themselves inside him and empty their contents as Remus rapidly strokes his own cock.

"That's right, baby," Remus grits, as he brings himself to another orgasm, spilling over his own tentacles and Logan's thighs again. "Taking in all my eggs and come. Gonna breed you so good. Look at your stomach? You're already so full. Can't wait to see how full you're going to look after we've all fucked our babies into you."

Logan moans as Janus shoves his fingers deeper into Logan's mouth, and would be begging to be bred if it weren't for Janus finger fucking his mouth. He does want to be bred; he wants them all to fill him up with eggs, which is why he jolts and moans when Remus's last two tentacles push into him too.

They only slide a little of the way in before the tips open up and the tentacles come into him again, more small eggs sliding into his small body, and Logan comes again, thanks to Remus's slow stroking and sliding the pad of his thumb over his slit, dirtying Patton's hand and adding to the pool of come already on his chest.

As his two tentacles pull out, Remus's fingers slide in, keeping his come and eggs packed up inside, his horny mind believing that Logan needs to keep it all packed inside to make sure they're effectively fertilized.

"Janus, get over here," Remus nearly grows. "Fuck him real good, Jan. Make sure not to let any of my eggs or come spill out, okay? And breed him like the slut he is." Although he didn't like the idea of other people breeding Logan, he might as well encourage them. Logan looked so pretty with his stomach swelling slightly with just his eggs; he could only imagine how thoroughly fucked out and full Logan would look after all of this, and boy was he getting hard again at that mental picture.

Janus grins, and scoots over towards Remus, one of Remus's tentacles quickly wrapping and pumping Janus's cocks. The chemical sliding over them works to lube them up, but it also sends pleasurable heat through his cocks. Janus slides closer now that his cocks are lubed up, and as Remus's fingers slide out, Janus pushes one of his cocks in.

He's thrilled feeling Remus's come and eggs already packed inside of him, and Logan moans out "Janus!" when he feels Janus's second cock rub against his own.

With Janus no longer gagging his mouth, Logan was whining and babbling out incoherent pleas spurred on by the aphrodisiac circulating his mind. All he thought about was being fucked and filled, just like they promised he would be.

Patton grabs both Janus and Logan's cocks and rubs them together, before Janus takes hold of his second cock and eases it into Logan's hole, making him jolt at the stretch. "Janus- Janus!" Logan whines, drool dripping from the corner of his chin. "So big! Feel so full; want to be full of your eggs Janus!"

"Don't worry, darling," Janus purrs, just barely thrusting into Logan, hardly enough to provide Logan with pleasurable friction, but Janus himself can't help groaning at the way Logan clenches down on his cock, as if trying to milk the eggs and come from his cock. "You'll get them soon enough."

He pulls out about halfway, before slowly pushing back in, earning a breathy gasp from Logan, who's immediately trying to roll his hips down on Janus's cocks. He wants more; he desperately craves more, and yet Janus was going slow with him. The glint in his eye showed that he was doing it solely to be a tease.

He leans over Logan as he pulls out a bit again, slowly pushing in again just like last time, feeling Remus's eggs move around his cocks. He presses his lips to Logan's, forked tongue sliding easily into Logan's mouth and tasting around the area. Logan leans up into the kiss, mouth open eagerly as his tongue presses curiously against Janus's. They'd kissed multiple times, but even while mindlessly horny thanks to aphrodisiac, Logan still slid his tongue between the fork in Janus's, and Janus couldn't help but think it was rather cute.

The others watched with mildly annoyed expressions, although some of them tried to place their interest above it. Of course Janus would go achingly slow; he liked to be a tease, and issue things out when they're most unexpected, and hearing Logan beg for him is no doubt getting him off.

When Janus finally pulls away, Logan chases after his lips desperately, and whines when Janus merely coos at him instead. He resorts to trailing kisses down Logan's jaw instead, kissing over the bite mark he already made, before sucking a dark, purple mark into Logan's skin. The sight makes the others hiss in disapproval, but causes Logan to tilt his head to the side.

He's too horny to care about his pride, as he instead begs "Janus, please, mark me up more! Need them, need you, please!" He sounds utterly pathetic, but it causes Janus to lick his lips, and grin.

"Don't worry, kitten," Janus purrs, as he trails his kisses down to Logan's shoulders. "I'll make sure to mark you up good. Show everyone that sees you that you belong to me," he promises, before he sucks another mark into Logan's skin.

"Belongs to us," Virgil corrects him, trailing a sharp nail over Logan's jaw. Logan looks up at him with cloudy eyes, and as Virgil's finger traces over his lips, Logan's mouth opens and his tongue lolls out, as if inviting Virgil to do what he pleased with it. Virgil grins, and the urge to thrust his cock inside Logan's waiting mouth was immeasurable, but he wanted to empty his eggs in a place his horny mind believed they could be fertilized, even if they logically couldn't.

So, Virgil does what Janus did and shoves his fingers inside Logan's mouth, albeit rougher, and Logan gets right to sucking and tonguing over them. Roman, feeling a little left out, scoots to the other side of the bed near Remus, and when Janus's kisses and hickeys start start trailing lower, Roman greedily takes up licking and sucking over Logan's neck. Remus, with his unlimited stamina, is touching his own cock, but he's filled with the urge to come over Logan's body. He wants to mess him up and ruin him, more than he's already ruined.

His hair is disheveled and matter to his head in sweat, with his own come quickly drying over his stomach. Janus licks some of it up while simultaneously trailing his fangs over his body and causing Logan to whine around Virgil's fingers at the thought of being bitten and pumped full of Janus's venom again.

He'd be high off the aphrodisiac for a while, but if they saw it wearing off in the midst of their breeding session, Janus would just bite him or one of the twins will feed him chemicals again to make sure he can continue coming throughout their playtime.

Janus leaves a few hickeys down Logan's chest, before he finally pulls out nearly all the way and thrusts all the way back in, roughly jolting Logan's body and earning a loud moan from him. He lets out a muffled cry of Janus's name around Virgil's fingers, before his teeth lightly close around the digits. He doesn't want Virgil's fingers to pull away like Janus's had, as his tongue eagerly slides over the fingers and coats them with his saliva.

Logan's legs close on instinct when Janus thrusts against his prostate, so two more arms emerge from Janus's sides and take hold of Logan's thighs, spreading his legs further apart and keeping them there. He's met with little resistance, and just to feel Logan up a bit, he squeezes and gropes Logan's chubby thighs.

His manicured nails dig into the muscle as his thrusts get harder, mercilessly abusing Logan's prostate and causing Logan to let out frequent moans and cries of pleasure, mixed with the occasional gag as Virgil shoves his fingers deeper into Logan's mouth. His nails briefly scratch against his throat, but the discomfort of such is quickly forgotten due to the constant pleasure he's receiving.

With Patton's hand still softly working his cock, he comes again, eyes rolling back into his head as he gags around Virgil's fingers, a choked moan barely audible. His hole clenches around Janus's cock, earning a groan from the deceitful side.

"Logan," Janus moans out, his nails digging hard into Logan's thighs, puncturing the skin and drawing blood that drips across Logan's thighs. The blood catches Virgil's attention, and he licks his lips as the red droplets spill down the muscle only to stain Logan's bedsheets and completely go to waste.

One of his eyes twitch, before he slips his fingers out of Logan's mouth, allowing the moans he's letting out to be louder, before one of Virgil's hands grab Logan's throat, squeezing tight. His nails lightly scratch over the skin, and Logan gasps as his hands tug on the strong webs around his wrists.

Janus's thrusts get more sporadic, still fucking into Logan's prostate and working him back up to full hardness yet again. Patton's hand has moved down to lightly fondle and squeeze Logan's balls, as Roman had moved his mouth to Logan's cock.

He was sucking over the tip, and occasionally dragging his teeth over Logan's shaft whenever his head bobs down, which earns strangled moans and whines from Logan. Logan would buck up into his mouth if Janus's hands didn't keep his bottom half planted.

"Going to fill you up, darling," Janus gasps out, as he feels a pit of warmth pool in his stomach. "Can't wait to see your stomach bulge once you're full of my eggs. All of our eggs." His words are breathy, before he suddenly thrusts deep into Logan's ass and comes, both of his cocks pumping out eggs and come that fill Logan further, and Logan's back arches as he moans, relishing in the feeling of being filled even more.

Janus has significantly less eggs than Remus, which is to be expected considering Remus had multiple tentacles that needed to dispense eggs, but his eggs are a bit bigger, which makes Logan's legs shake as he comes again. He's driven to climax by that feeling mixed with Roman's tongue stimulating his slit. He's getting oversensitive, which amuses them greatly.

It'd be joyous to see how thoroughly wrecked he'd be by the end of this.

"Patton," Janus calls, his cocks still buried inside Logan. Patton looks away from Logan's throat, where Virgil's hand had eased up and had instead turned to dragging his nails over Logan's chest, occasionally scratching hard enough to draw blood that Virgil then eagerly licks up, looking utterly euphoric just from tasting Logan's blood.

Patton scoots over so that he's between Logan's legs, gently rubbing over the scratches Janus had caused. This time, one of Roman's tentacles slide over Patton's cock in order to lube it up, and Patton shyly moans at the feeling.

Then, as Janus slowly pulls out, Patton slowly pushes in, in hopes nothing spills out of Logan's ass. Luckily, by the time Janus is pulled out fully, nothing seems to have spilled out, and Patton moans as he feels the other two's come already packed tightly inside of Logan.

"Oh... oh gosh..." Patton gasps, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Logan around him. He was excited to finally get his turn with Logan, and that shows through in the way he bites his lip and rather firmly squeezes at Logan's thick thighs.

Remus meanwhile motions Janus over, both of them currently satisfied with emptying their eggs into their cute little incubator, so they can cuddle. They both sit nearby, and with the pleased expressions Logan's making, they both knew they'd undoubtedly end up hard again, but all of them knew how pretty Logan looks when he's utterly drenched in their come.

Patton's significantly softer than all of them, so he takes his time to allow Logan a peaceful respite, although Roman continues to mouth and lightly bite at Logan's cock and the skin surrounding it, and Virgil had taken to marking up Logan's neck.

The anxious side's fangs pierce his skin with every new bite, and Virgil greedily sucks over every new bite in order to ingest Logan's delicious blood.

"Patton," Logan whines, now that his mouth is unoccupied, and Patton's lets out a moan at just the sound of Logan saying his name. Tears are brimming in his eyes as Roman deepthroats his cock, purposely going quite slow, but still teasingly working his tongue over Logan's slit and practically tempting him to come again.

He's oversensitive, the chemical being fully digested and absorbed into his skin by now, which left the aftereffects of oversensitivity and heat, and he was easily being driven closer to climax by just a few bobs of Roman's head, and Patton's cock resting motionlessly inside of him.

Janus nudges Remus as he notices, and Remus scoots closer. "Open wide, Logie," he purrs, and Logan obediently does what he's told, whining as one of Remus's tentacles slip into his mouth.

Already, more aphrodisiac is being graciously sucked down by Logan, the suckers on the tentacle briefly attaching themselves to Logan's tongue as he laps at it like he needs it, and with each greedy swallow of the chemical, Logan grows more and more mindless, and his stamina is briefly boosted.

His body is still sensitive, and tears drip down his face as the tentacle squirms further down Logan's throat, causing him to choke around it, but he doesn't stop eagerly sucking what Remus has so graciously given him.

Instead, he sucks and sucks until Remus pulls it out of his mouth, and even so he tries to follow after it with his mouth, whining when some drips onto his face and rolls down his cheek, eventually landing on the bedsheets and going to waste.

By now, Roman's head has come to a stop at the head of his cock, focused and intentionally stimulating his slit in hopes of making him writhe, and is utterly successful.

Virgil's hickeys move down to his shoulders and collarbone, and that's when Patton decides to finally start his thrusts. They're slow, and careful, and strangely caring. Sex with Patton always feels overly intimate, even in the kinkiest of times, but right now, the way he bit his lip and gripped a bit tighter at Logan's thighs every time he thrusted into him was a sight that made Logan moan, even in his hazy state.

Morality doing something that was perceived to be the farthest from innocence, and doing so with a red face and a quiet but confident nature had him moaning, and his legs wrap around Patton's waist as if encouraging to thrust deeper, harder, and to completely ruin and fill him.

"More, fill me, please," he whines out, rolling his hips in an attempt to fuck himself back on Patton's cock, desperate to be filled with his eggs.

"Baby, baby, shhh," Patton shushes him, leaning down to press an all-too-soft kiss against Logan's lips in order to keep him quiet. His pleading was cute, but if he kept begging then Patton might just have to give in.

But, Logan's lips part obediently for Patton, allowing Patton's tongue to slip into his mouth. Their lips move fluidly against each others, despite the fact Logan was insatiably horny.

And, despite Logan's pleas between kisses and touches, Patton continues a slow and steady pace with him.

Such a pace makes Virgil hiss where he sits, and he quite forcibly pulls Roman's head away from Logan's cock in favor of going back to ruthlessly stroking him. He knows it probably won't do much to convince Patton to go faster and get his turn over with, but he might as well please Logan while they wait, and his nails dragging over Logan's shaft while his free hand squeezes at his balls makes Logan cry out in pain, as tears fall down his cheeks.

However, he looks near euphoric when Patton moves his lips away from Logan's, and the more Virgil slaps around his cock and balls, the more Logan writhes and cries, with a few pathetic moans still slipping out of his mouth.

A part of Patton wants to encourage Virgil to be nicer, but as Roman starts nipping and sucking over Logan's skin, only adding to the pleasure the logical side is feeling, Patton finds he's too invested in Logan's pretty noises and expressions to care much about how they hurt him. As long as Logan liked it, he liked it.

Janus and Remus are both unsurprisingly getting off on the sounds Logan's making too. Remus likes seeing him in pain, and likes making fun of him for enjoying it so much, which he doesn't hesitate to do. Janus, on the other hand, is praising and teasing Logan for the way his body jerks and shakes with Patton's hard thrusts, and yet the way Logan moans for him to go faster because Patton treats him too sweetly.

Mixes of "painslut, I bet you enjoy Virgil clawing at your stupid little cock. I bet you wish he'd cut it off. It's not like you need it anyway; you'll never get the chance to fuck any of us. Stupid bottom," and "what a good boy, taking what he's given. You should be more grateful to Patton though; he may no be going fast but with the way your legs are shaking, I'd say he's making you feel real good, isn't he, kitten?"

And Logan's responses are just as mixed, with eager cries of "yes, I'm a painslut! Don't need my cock- just need my hole to be filled!" followed by whines of "thank you, Patton. Feels so- so good! So close; love your cock, Patton! I want your eggs, please!"

He didn't sound like his normal, proper self, but that was too be expected when someone was pumped full of a literal horny chemical.

"You'll get them soon enough, baby," Patton assures Logan, followed by a soft shushing noise. He loved how noisy Logan was, but his voice was starting to sound strained from all the moaning he'd done already.

He still had two more loads to take, not counting the load Patton was about to give him.

Logan suddenly jolts as Patton thrusts hard into his prostate, legs trembling due to how much pressure he'd already sustained tonight. He had unlimited stamina, thanks to being a figment of Thomas's imagination, and could come as many times as they wanted him to, but it took a toll on his body thanks to the fact he was created to be human-esque.

Which means the others get to watch adoringly as Logan's body shook with sensitivity, and the way his hips bucked when Virgil suddenly squeezes tight around the base of his cock, before rapidly stroking it, causing Logan's back to arch as he cries out Virgil's name, before suddenly coming over his messy chest and Virgil's hand, but Virgil keeps going.

"Better hurry up and make Patton come," Virgil says, sounding confident and rather harsh. All the dark sides were rather mean during sex; they liked to be in control, and they especially liked torturing Logan with that control.

Logan's hands tug pathetically at the webbing around his wrists, tears falling down his face as he chokes on his own drool. "Patton!" he cries, hole clenching tight around Patton's cock. "Come in me, please! Need you, need you so bad..." he starts to sound like he's sobbing near the end, and with a slightly more worried look, Virgil's free hand grabs Logan's chin.

"Tell us your colour," Virgil orders, although his voice comes out comparably soft, and Patton's thrusts get softer as he awaits Logan's answer.

Through a hiccup, Logan says "green... 'm just so sensitive," and it was about what they were expecting. Roman scoots closer to Logan's head, and kisses at the tears falling down Logan's face, before Patton's thrusts pick back up. Roman, admittedly, was excited at the prospect of Logan being near incoherent when it was finally time for him to use him.

Dumb and horny; the perfect little incubator.

Remus and Janus's hands speed up on their own cocks, determined to come around the same time as Patton, and both Roman and Virgil's cocks throb at the broken moans Logan was letting out. They both needed him, and they needed him soon.

Though, as Patton's breath gets more audible, moaning and groaning more often, the two left are assured that he's close. To further confirm their suspicions, Patton ends up gasping out "Logan- Logan I'm close."

Logan moans at Patton's words, legs shaking as Patton gropes the fat muscle and keeps his legs spread. Logan was pushing against him, unintentionally, of course, as he instinctually wanted to close his legs and pull Patton closer.

Virgil's hand, which hadn't stopped its assault on Logan's cock, squeezes harder as his free hand moves to Logan's balls instead, going back to scratching, slapping, and squeezing in order to make Logan cry more. The pain causes Logan to clench around Patton's cock again, and Patton moans as he thrusts into the tight heat.

With a few more thrusts, Patton comes with a moan into Logan, a large amount of tiny eggs and come spilling into his body. Patton grinds against Logan's hips as he rides out his orgasm, before looking at Virgil as he pants. Virgil immediately moves his hands away from Logan's genitalia, and scoots to where Patton was, leaving Logan whining and bucking his hips, desperate for more friction to bring him to yet another orgasm, despite the fact he felt like he might pass out if he came again. Still, he doesn't safeword; he knows he can take the rest of their eggs. He wants to.

Remus and Janus also end up coming again, come shooting over Logan's chest, and some of Janus's come even managing to get over his face. Logan hardly seems fazed, though, and just whines at his own desperate urge to come.

Just like last time, one of Roman's tentacles slide over Virgil cock, lubing it up, so that when Patton pulls out, Virgil can quickly, and rather roughly, thrust his cock into Logan's hole.

Patton moves to cuddle against Janus's side, one of Janus's arms sprouting from his side so that he can pull Patton close to him. One round was all it took to tire Patton out, so Janus rubbed his side as the moral side watched Logan with half-lidded eyes. Although he was ready to lay down and cuddle, he knew Virgil and Roman needed to breed Logan too, and he wouldn't miss seeing Logan shake and moan for the world.

Hands tightly gripping Logan's legs, Virgil sets a fast pace with his thighs. He's not normally so impatient, but his cock has been achingly hard nearly this entire time, and he needs to empty his eggs into their cute little logical side soon, or he might just burst.

Roman's whining and pouting all the same, although he's tried to occupy himself with licking and sucking Logan's nipples. His body has been pretty thoroughly covered in hickeys, both from the side's mouths and from the twin's tentacles, whose suckers were constantly latching on and sucking against Logan's skin.

As Virgil fucks into Logan, one of Roman's tentacles slide back up to his mouth. It doesn't go inside, despite Logan opening his mouth for it and trying to lean his head up in hopes of at least suckling on the tip, but the tentacle just moves further out of his reach.

If Roman was aware of it, he would have generously given Logan the tentacle to suck on, but he was mindlessly occupying himself with sucking around Logan's nipples to give him even more stimulation.

The tentacle dripped the horny chemical over Logan's face, only getting into his mouth if Logan held it open, and often times still missing, which prompted Logan to stick his tongue out. It was leaking an incredulous amount, drips pouring one after the other, and dripping down his chin and fortunately down his throat, and serving to give him a bit more energy, and a lot more stamina.

Virgil's hunched over Logan's quaking body, lips reattaching themselves to Logan's collarbone. His sharp teeth are digging into Logan's skin as his thrusts grow needy. He's so pent up, just from watching the others have their way with him.

Logan can't really do much else but arch his back when Virgil's cock rams against his prostate, and cry out something near incoherent due to his mouth hanging open in an attempt to gather more oh the aphrodisiac.

It sounds vaguely like Virgil's name, but none of them can be sure at this point. Drool is running down Logan's chin as his body jolts with each thrust into his severely overstimulated body. His mind was basically empty except for sex, and both Virgil and Roman's hands were running over his stomach, which was noticeably larger due to the eggs and come packed inside of him.

There was so much, and Virgil's cock driving into him just served to jostle the eggs around. He'd be more scared about them breaking if he wasn't being so mind numbingly pleasured.

"There's just me and Roman left, L," Virgil assures him, pulling away from Logan's now bleeding collarbone with the red liquid present on his lips. "Think you can hold all of our eggs? You're going to look so full by the time we're done with you. Our good boy; our good little incubator."

Logan's nodding before Virgil's even done talking, although his tongue stays out of his mouth. Roman pulls away from kissing and nipping at Logan's chest and finally notices that the logical side is trying to get more aphrodisiac from the tentacle. Not wanting to risk wasting eggs by coming down Logan's throat (and potentially choking him in the process), Roman slides his hand over his tentacle, coating his hand in the aphrodisiac, before moving his fingers to Logan's mouth.

Logan eagerly sucks them in, before his tongue is working over Roman's fingers, and as Roman adds more into his mouth, Logan obediently sucks more aphrodisiac off, making his body hotter and giving him a bit more energy to push onwards with.

The tentacles then continue to mindlessly rub over his body, even curling around one of Virgil's wrists at some point, and drag more of the chemical over Logan's already sensitive body. One of them even ends up sliding itself around Logan's cock, sliding up and down it, while occasionally squeezing, serving to give Logan a mock handjob.

Virgil's cock finds his prostate moments later, and Logan near comes just from the pleasure he gets from it. He sucks harder on Roman's fingers as he cries out around them, and when Roman finally pulls them out, Logan's babbling for Virgil to keep hitting that spot and making him feel good, and going on and on about how he's so close, which earns insulting words from Remus and degrading muttering from Virgil, who's leaned in close to Logan's ear.

"Our good little slut; going to come again?" Virgil purrs, before nipping at Logan's earlobe and drawing a pathetic whine from him.

"Yes, yes," Logan gasps out, voice shaking as Virgil repeatedly thrusts into his prostate, his nails dragging over Logan's body before tightly holding his hips, leaving behind bright red marks that pop against Logan's pale skin.

Virgil himself was close; hot and horny just from watching the others have their way with him, and also due to a desperate need to pump his eggs into Logan. If Roman wasn't waiting to go after him, Virgil probably would have thought about going for a second round.

Oh well; there's always tomorrow.

His teeth are nipping and biting over any skin that hasn't already been marked up, as his thrusts grow more sporadic. It was probably pathetic how close Virgil was already, but as Logan comes again with a cry of his name, Virgil decides he doesn't really care. All he wants is to fill Logan up and breed his boyfriend.

His nails dig deeper into Logan's hips, holding hard enough to potentially bruise him, as Virgil's thrusts get harder. Logan's eyes are squeezed shut, with tears flowing constantly, and Virgil's getting off on it. He cares about Logan, of course, they all do, but watching him cry because he was so wracked with pain and pleasure was admittedly a guilty pleasure of theirs.

"Virgil!" Logan cries, voice strained. "Come in me, please! I want your eggs; I want them so bad!" He sounds like he's pleading, although it was clear Virgil planned to come inside of Logan anyway. It's what he's been craving doing all night.

And, well, Virgil can hardly resist giving his baby what he wants. With a few more hard thrusts, Virgil's emptying his eggs into Logan's ass, Roman pulling back slightly to watch with half-lidded eyes as Logan's stomach expands even more, filling up as Virgil's come and eggs are deposited into his ass. Virgil rides out his orgasm, thrusting hard throughout it, and stimulating Logan all the while, while Logan cries and shakes as Virgil comes.

Roman's eager to get his own turn, and Virgil ends up guiding the tentacle around Logan's cock to Logan's ass, and it wiggles in alongside Virgil's cock before Virgil slowly pulls out. He and Roman switch positions, before Remus ends up roughly grabbing Virgil's midsection and pulling him close, and in for cuddles.

Virgil hisses at him, but let's Remus hold him tightly regardless, Janus also reaching over to soothingly rub Virgil's thigh.

Roman eagerly situates himself between Logan's legs, cooing softly as he pushes a second tentacle into Logan's ass. Logan's hole spreads easily around his tentacles, and the tentacles were slick enough they went in without trouble.

Roman groans at the tightness, and Logan whines at the prospect of being stuffed full of Roman's eggs, and finally being bred by all of his boyfriends.

"Finally," Logan hears Roman mutter, as his tentacles set to a fast pace of wiggling and thrusting. They worm their way around the eggs all stuffed inside of Logan, mixing the other's come around and causing Logan's stomach to shift and move as the eggs are hit with thrusts.

The rest of Roman's tentacles are restless, sliding over Logan's legs and leaving more sucker marks over his ankles and calves, attempting to occupy themselves as they're forced to wait in order to empty the eggs that's been stuffed inside of them for the past night.

The two inside of Logan are constantly rubbing against each other and seem to shiver in pleasure whenever Logan clenches around them; very clearly responding positively to Logan's pleasure.

Similarly to Virgil, Roman's extremely close already. His tentacles have been swelling with eggs, and his tentacles have been rubbing over Logan since he's been in the logical side's room, so they were eager to come inside of Logan and breed him fully.

"You look so beautiful," Roman gasps out, as his tentacles are stimulated while they thrust into Logan's ass. One of his hands works his own cock, while the other squeezes and gropes at Logan's thighs, as everyone else had this evening.

They all like his thighs; groping them and squeezing the fat makes them all happy, and Logan likes the attention, regardless of what form it comes in.

With no warning, the two tentacles inside of Logan suddenly come, as does Roman, as he moans out Logan's name as his come splatters over one of his tentacles and one of Logan's thighs. His eggs slowly push through his tentacles and into Logan, come spilling out with it, and as those slip out, two more efficiently slip in. They're fucking into him just like the previous to, and Roman bends down to kiss Logan sweetly, and whisper sweet words in Spanish when they part.

Normally, Logan would respond with something also in Spanish, as he'd taken up learning it for Roman's sake, or he'd respond with a simple thank you at the compliments Roman often tossed his way, but right now he was too dumb due to the overwhelming pleasure he was feeling to respond in any way other than a moan.

The only thing Logan knew was that Roman soothingly speaking another language to him made him happy, and the tentacles inside of him, which had found his prostate and have been continuing to thrust and rub against it, made him overwhelmingly horny.

He moans relentlessly against Roman's lips, the spit and drool coating them smearing over Roman's chin as they messily make-out. Deciding to give Logan even more attention, when Roman's tentacles come again, and in turn when he comes again, Roman uses his come as lube to stroke Logan's cock. His pace is steady and rather sweet, while his last two tentacles slide themselves into Logan.

They don't thrust, more so just writhing, as Roman sucks on Logan's bottom lip and then kisses down his chin. They're both moaning and panting; Logan's babbling out incoherent pleas, as he tugs pathetically at the webbing keeping him stuck to the headboard, while Roman's mumbling praises between his own sounds of pleasure.

Roman's always been known to be vocal, and his noises of pleasure ultimately spur Logan on, as he begs with broken words for Roman to fill him up with the rest of his eggs.

"I need them, please!" Logan begs, as tears continuously pour down his face. He hiccups in between talking, and his legs shake as he attempts to spread them further apart, as if further enticing Roman to come in him. "Please, please, please, Roman, I want your eggs so bad!"

He sounds utterly pathetic, and the four sitting to the side all feel their breaths get caught in their throats.

Logan was rather hot when he was mindlessly horny and without a filter; they liked hearing him pathetically beg and cry for their eggs and come. If any of them could, they'd be hard again, but instead they just watched with extreme interest as Roman grits his teeth, the tentacles wiggling inside of Logan suddenly beginning to thrust, harshly slamming against his prostate, before Logan suddenly cries out Roman's name, body trembling as he comes for the final time, Roman's hand stilling almost immediately in hopes not to overstimulate him further.

His eggs slide through his tentacles, and after the last of the eggs and come are pumped into Logan's ass, Roman looks over at Remus and Janus, knowing they'd understand.

Janus is the one who ultimately ends up moving, much to Remus's dismay, and after sorting through Logan's nightstand, Janus shows off a silver buttplug. He hands it over to Roman, who lubes it up with a tentacle, before sliding it into Logan as the tentacles pull out.

Janus then summons something to cut through Virgil's webbing, thus releasing Logan's wrists from the tight hold they were in.

The deceitful side kisses over the laceration marks, before he glances at the others, unsure of where to proceed from here.

Patton scoots closer, brushing some of the hair from Logan's eyes, and Logan's breathing heavily as he leans into the hand Patton eventually rests against his cheek. "How are you feeling, Logan?" Patton questions, voice soft.

"Tired... good..." Logan responds, eyes closed. His voice is quiet and raspy, but he's clearly happy.

"Do you want to shower?"

Logan's quiet for a few moments, before he shakes his head slightly. "No. I don't think I can stand. Wipe me down, please?" He'll shower tomorrow, with the help of his boyfriends, but for now he'll lay happily, and contently rub his full stomach. The idea of having to empty himself sometime soon is saddening, but hey.

There's always next time.

i... kind of went overboard. sorry this took so long, but i hope it was worth it!

also, reminder, if you check my blog, i have a post involving a kinky things bingo, which is a bunch of kinky prompts. im taking recommendations for ships to do with certain prompts, so if youd like to see me write a specific ship with any of those prompts, then lmk ;))

[luimagines]

I’m wondering how the boys would deal with you getting sick/wounded?

Masterlist

A lot of protectiveness that's for sure! Mixed in with some self doubt and anxiety! But lots of care and gentleness just for you!

Since there isn't a specification, I'll try to write platonically but I'm still on a crush roll so if feels come out or are implied, then I'll take full blame and pass it on to the previous prompt.

I’m gonna try something with this prompt and only write three guys per part. The other parts will be out shortly with the others but I don’t want to only post like once every other week even if I’m trying to write everyday because they’re so many of them. I do want to write them all! But it does take awhile.

SO! If I like this system I’ll keep it but it’s a trial run.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, PART 1

Scenario under the cut!

Sky

Sky was running through the forest, slashing down all the monsters that were within his reach.

You, Wild and Twilight on top of Epona ran past him, chasing the black lizalfos that caused this whole mess. He stayed back, knowing that speed wasn't his strong suit. Between all the skeletons, lizards and all the keese that started showing up in the mean time, he was sure that he was more needed here to keep the monsters from reaching you.

He kept his focus on the fight and moved with practiced motions.

Monster began falling under his blade, left and right, front and back. He was no longer paying attention to where his teammates are. Just the motion and and the thrill of the fight to guide him, all other senses forgotten, he missed your cry.

He didn't know you turned back.

He didn't know you came to fight next to him.

He didn't see the monster coming up behind him-

"SKY!" He was suddenly pushed to the side, the ground coming up to meet him with dirt shooting all over his face.

He hears you cry again but in pain, and once again when he hears you hit the ground.

Sky gets to his feet as fast as he can and spins around.

There you are, on the ground, hand clenched around a growing red blotch on your other arm. You're glaring up at the skeleton that came from behind. Your sword is on the opposite side to you, but it doesn't matter much if your dominant arm is out of commission.

The skeleton shakes, as if in laughter even if no sounds comes forth from the monster. Sky sees that the skeleton no longer has its attention on him but on you. It raises its arm, sword raised and sharp and begin to bring it in your direction.

Sky grits his teeth and swings his sword.

Metal clangs against metal and Sky is surprised to see the amount of force that was behind the initial blow. It nearly sends him back to the ground but he merely slides a few inches backwards instead.

He chances a glance down at you and knows that you won't be able to fight beyond what already transpired.

The battle around him lessens somewhat, the sounds dimming until he only hears the blood pumping in his ears.

He's tired.

But Sky was never one to be a quitter. With one final push, he puts al of his weight into his next strike and knocks the skeleton away from their stalemate. While it's struggling to gain its balance, he slices upwards and cuts the entire thing in half.

He takes a step back and glances around the battlefield.

The others are making quick work of the monsters still standing. He trusts them to finish the job so he turns on his heel and kneels beside you.

"Let me see." Sky pulls your hand away from the wound. It goes down your bicep and across your elbow. He can't tell how deep it is, but it's long and bleeding.

"I'll be alright." You try to smile and get up. Sky doesn't let you. "Better me than you anyway."

"Not true." He glares at you. Sky is quick to take out his supplies and bandages and begin to work on your arm. He feels angry even after the monster has been dealt with. You shouldn't have gotten hit. You shouldn't have gotten hit on his account, he amends in his head. "It'll never be true."

"I've had worse." You shrug and hiss when he takes out his personal disinfectant and applies it to your wound. He's running low, but it's the best he can do since he's not the one carrying the healing potions and he can't do what Hyrule does, period.

He doesn't feel good about your answer and by the look on your face, he knows that you know it too.

"Why did you do that?" Sky asks after a moment of silence. He refuses to look at you head on. He knows he's still glaring and he doesn't want to aim it in your direction. He's too tired to try and hide it like he usually would with any other person. You'll just have to put up with it.

"You were gonna get hit." You reply, watching him work. "What was I supposed to do? Just let that happen?"

"You didn't have to take the hit for me. Yelling would have been fine. Let me know that it was there so I could deal with it." He growls.

"I tried." You stress and nearly pull your arm back when he puts a little more pressure on the cut than necessary. He keeps you close though so it's not like you succeed. "I yelled your name like three times. It's not like I wanted to push you face first into the dirt. If I let that thing hit you, you would have been given a way worse hit than this stupid cut on my arm."

Sky flexes his jaw and begins wrapping said stupid cut. He's inclined to believe you and he's sure that you're right. But....

He's allowed to not like it.

"Can you stand?" He asks, letting some of the anger fall from his face. Sky makes a quick evaluation over himself and realizes that he's relatively unharmed. A bit bruised, sure, but nothing worse than that. Certainly no blood drawn on his end.

You nod, grab your sword with your good hand and begin to get up. Out of habit, you instinctually put your wounded hand behind you to stabilize yourself and fall back down in pain.

Sky makes the executive decision to pick you up bridal style and carry you back to the others.

"SKY!" You cry and thrash around. "My injury is on my arm! I can stand just fine!"

He takes one good look at you then and shrugs. "You couldn't even get up. I don't mind."

"It's not about if you mind or not!" You continue. "It's the principle of the thing!"

He doesn't reply. Sky just looks away with a smirk, under the guise of looking for the rest of the group.

You catch on and stutter out some kind of argument but he tunes it out.

He sees Wild and Twilight back, angry and lizardless.

It's fine, he thinks. Because you're all together again and getting closer to figuring this whole thing out while putting a stop to it.

You begin to beg to be let down, unless the others make some kind of comment about it. But Sky feels the little voice inside of him to let it happen anyway.

Pay back for taking his hit.

Better you than him, HA! Not if he has anything to say about it.

Wild

Wild was on a roll!

After a successful dungeon raid (he's getting better that those), a great meal enjoyed by the whole team and no lecture about ditching the group, he on a golden streak! Nothing can get him down!

He continues to have a large grin on his face even after everyone has eaten and begins to settle down for the night. Everyone seems to be in good spirits.... except for you.

After you ate, you tried to keep up with everyone's good fortune and attitude but something felt wrong, you said you didn't feel good so you called it a night early, seemingly forgetting that it was your turn to take first watch.

Wild doesn't think much of it at first and continues with his nightly routine.

It's really only when it's right before he plans on going to bed that he notices something. The others that are still awake are quick to notice it as well and each of them share concerned glances.

You began to curl into yourself as you slept. Nothing weird about that, right? Maybe you were just cold but then... You started to whimper and grunt, like you were scared and in pain. A cough here and then but it doesn't spark any idea of what might be bothering you.

Twilight is the first to get up and make his way toward you but you wake up first, shooting to your feet with a frightening speed and all but stumble and crawl away from the camp.

Wild stands at nearly the same speed and begins to make his way towards you as well.

You don't get very far until you start coughing even more. It's a deep and wet cough that leaves you gasping for air but it continues on.

Then you vomit.

Wild sprint towards you then and helps hold whatever hair he can get to back and away from your face. Twilight is right next to him suddenly and he's rubbing circles on your back while you cry and continue to retch.

A few minutes pass but they feel like an eternity to Wild. He looks over to Twilight and grimaces. "Was it something they ate?"

Because if it was then this is on him. And he doesn't like the thought of causing you any sort of discomfort. Let alone getting you sick.

Twilight only shrugs and helps you stand straighter when you're done throwing up everything that you had eaten the day prior.

You're crying, whimpering and hugging yourself but Wild doubts that you're really aware of what's happening.

He places a hand on your forehead and gasps in shock.

You are absolutely burning up.

"You're sick." His eyebrows furrow and he begins to hold you steady when Twilight leaves you to him.

"...I don't feel good." You reply, but you haven't looked at him. You're eyes are still half lidded and it leads him to believe that you're still somewhat asleep.

"Ok. We'll help you, ok?" He says as he begins to lead you back to your bed roll.

" 'm cold." You say as you move back to where you were sleeping before. "An' everythin' hurts."

"I know. We'll make it better, I promise."

Twilight appears out of nowhere with his wolf pelt and places it over you, helping Wild get you back into your spot and tucks you in.

"Guess we'll stay here tomorrow as well." Twilight mutters. "No use pushing them any further, not like this."

"How long-?" Wild begins to ask but he doesn't know if that's even a question that can be answered. He tries anyway. "How long have they been sick?"

"They were a little weird yesterday..." Twilight admits. "But I didn't think much about it."

"What? Why?" Wild turns to his friend, brother, mentor. "Why not call them out on it? If they're sick-"

"I wasn't sure if I was just seeing things. We're all a little weird from time to time. I can smell a lot but this is always a toss up." Twilight glares a little as he defends himself.

"What do we do then?"

"We do what we can." Time answers from beyond the fire pit. "Some of us can make a supply run to the nearby town we were going to stop at. Get something to help that fever and maybe some tea to help that cough. Being at the town would be the better solution, seeing as the outdoors are not exactly illness friendly but the terrain isn't worth hauling them over. It might even do more damage."

Twilight nods in agreement and stands. "I can take a few of the boys and make a supply run. Get some more things that we might being running low on."

"Got any ideas of who to take?"

"Warrior, Legend and Four. They know the best way around merchants and quality buys. I say they're our best bet for the good stuff."

"I'll pay." Wild pipes up, reaching just beyond your bed roll into his for his sheikah slate.

"Cub, that's not necessary-"

"I'm paying." He growls and takes out a good amount of yellow rupees. "They need medicine. Medicine that we don't have and we can't afford their fever to get any worse."

He all but shoves the cash into Twi's arms and leaves it at that.

Time and Twilight share a look but neither comment on the aggressiveness of it.

There's not a lot of words to be spoken after that. Time takes the first watch and Twilight goes to sleep with a call to wake him up if anything happens. To you or to the group, Wild doesn't know. Knowing Twilight, maybe he means both.

Wild has trouble sleeping and has trouble forcing himself to leave your side.

After much deliberation, a long study of your pained face even as you sleep, he gets up and fixes the fire.

Time simply watches and lets him mess around as he pleases, so long as he's quiet.

Wild doesn't pay attention to him and gets his slate out for the ingredients he's looking for.

He starts by making tea. Honey, lemon bark, ginger, all for the your cough but he hopes that it'll help your fever as well.

When the tea sits and begins to steep, he takes out more cooking supplies and begins to cook more meals for you. All light and mostly fluid. It's a lot of soup.

He can't bring himself to sleep when you might need someone by your side again.

They were lucky the first time that some of them were still awake.

The shifts changes out without his notice. Wild is too busy filling up the inventory that he has with meals that are intended to help you fight this infection.

Day light comes and those who missed it learn of the prior nights events, the plan and get ready to carry it out.

Wild makes a belated breakfast when he realizes that most of the group is awake.

They're all staring at him but he shakes it off.

His highest priority right now is helping you come out of this stronger than before.

He's your personal nurse for the day and until you get better.

The others don't try to fight him on this. They couldn’t even if they tried.

Legend

Legend takes a minute to pause from firing his magic rod. The magic in it leaves him feeling a little drained from the amount of shots he’s been taking but the monsters are thinning out, so he continues plowing forward.

He leaves a particularly nasty looking thing, from an era he doesn’t recognize, as a pile of sloppy purple gluck on the ground.

When he looks up, his heart stops in his throat.

You’re right in front of him, fighting one of the biggest moblins on the scene, alone.

You’re trying to keep yourself on your feet and do some damage to the beast in the process but the blood comes back black, staining your sword and ground around you.

You’re fighting a losing battle.

He makes a run for it and fires what he can at the monster’s back until he’s completely tapped out of his magic.

He switches for his sword and activates his Pegasus Boots, charging directly into the monster’s side, plunging the blade deep within the creature up to the hilt.

“Hey Legend. Fancy meeting you here.” You grit out and slash what you can at the beast.

“Sorry, I should have told you I’m known for being fashionably late.” He fires back and attempts to take back his weapon.

His sword gets stuck on something within the monster and he’s forced to leave it in. The moblin has since been made aware of arriving company and takes a swing that would have taken Legend’s head off. He’s quick to duck under it and he calls out to the others for back up. “THIS ONE’S INFECTED! A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE!”

“What a concept.” You gasp, out of breath and losing steam. “Back up would have been great like five minutes ago.”

“Well I’m here now, aren’t I?” Legend knows he’s quick on his feet and dances around the monster and to your side.

But it’s a miscalculation.

The moblins takes another swing at Legend in the process but since he doesn’t hit his target, his arm arcs outwards and knocks you finally off of your feet and sends you flying across the field with a sickening crack.

Legend stops for a second in shock and stares at where you landed.

You’re not getting up.

Now Legend is the one fighting this thing alone, with his sword still in the side of the monster, back up still not arriving yet and worse yet, the group is now down a number.

He doesn’t have time to reflect how it might be his fault that you’re down.

He hopes you’re not out and that the others comes quickly.

There’s a shot that takes the moblin by surprise when it’s imbedded in his head. Legend can’t risk taking glances around anymore but the quick succession of the blows let him know that Wild has appeared from out of the wood work and has joined him in taking this thing out.

Legend makes around circle around it and reaches for the hilt of his sword. IT”s wet and covered in its blood but he manages to get a grip on it.

He pulls.

He knows that it would have taken a lot to take it out but the blood around it seems to have lubricated the wound and it begins to slide out. As it inches out, Legend has to take another dive out of the way since the moblin swings back his way.

The sword is no longer plugging most of the wound, so it’s more  like a fountain of ink that beginning to paint the forest floor.

Legend suspects that he hit something vital and that the blow would be final if he can get the rest of his sword out.

Luckily, despite the lack of communication, Wild and Legend seem to reach a consensus. Wild distracts the moblin for a while and Legend goes for his sword and takes out as much as he can before the moblin takes his aggression out on him.

Somewhere in the middle of this Warrior has also appeared and begins to add to the distraction while using Legend’s fire rod. This allows Legend to get more time out of the small windows that his team is buying them but the progress if slower than he likes.

The blood on his hands makes it harder for him to get a grip on his sword and his boots are having a hard time gaining purchase on the ground as it turns to bloodied mud. 

Legend makes another dive out of the way and glances over to where you are.

You’re still not moving and no one has reached you yet.

Concern fuels him forward and he makes one last attempt to pull the sword free while the other damage it as much as they can.

It releases.

Legend goes flying backward and onto the ground, making quick work of getting back to his feet and attacking the beast.

The blood around his hands and sword are beginning to dry, almost gluing them together this time as he fights and he fights.

Somewhere along the lines of this, the news of an infected monsters reaching the others, Legend assumes, and one by one the others clamor up to the monster and begin to strike it down.

Now with all of them here, Legend takes a step back and steps out of the fray, leaving the killing blow to be dealt by the majority of the group.

Instead, he runs to your side.

Legend drops to his knees by your side and drop his sword somewhere behind him. He’s quick to take out his bag and rummage through it. He takes out a potion just you groan and roll over.

Legend lets out a sigh of relief, and a curse.

The moblin dies somewhere behind him.

“Legend...” You cry out. “Are you dead?”

He has to keep himself from snorting in disbelief. “Of course I’m not dead! It takes a lot more than that to kill me you know.”

His hands are shaking but your eyes are closed so he doesn’t make a show of trying to hide it. Your hands are over where your ribs are, a bit of red seeping through your fingers, but it doesn’t look major considering the amount of time that’s passed.

The potion will take of it.

“Were you not hit? You’re ok?” You ask in delirium, using all the strength you have left to sit up. Legend is quick to help you and places the potion in your lap with the cork off.

“No, it was really just you that took the hit.” Legend sits back and watches you drink it, slowly and robotically. He takes a minute to look over the rest of you and realizes that you don’t actually have a lot of injuries.

Just a few large hits.

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” You blurt, eyes wide and potion half drunk, threatening to spill over the lip of it with how you’re holding it. “Are you sure you weren’t hit?”

Legend tilts his head and looks down.

He’s absolutely disgusting.

He knows it shows on his face the minute he sees it but he forces himself not to think about it and instead, looks back at you.

“Believe it or not, none of it is mine.”

You stare for a moment or two longer before slowly returning to drink the potion you were given. “Remind me to never piss you off.”

The comment send even more relief through his system, shutting down the last of his adrenaline and he has to laugh. 

Legend has no idea what conclusion you came to but considering the amount of shock and awe on your face by the sight of him, he doesn’t plan on correcting you any time soon.

Part 2 Part 3

[babyybitchhh]

Arlong x Reader 18+

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 4,609

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, monster fucking (?), size difference, over sized genitalia and the buckets of cum to go with it, oral sex, fellatio, eventual consent

A/N: After consulting with my editor in chief, we agreed that the fishmen probably feel a bit like dolphins - firm to the touch but stupidly smooth, a bit clammy - so that's where my descriptive inspiration for this one came from. Y'know. Just in case anyone ends up wondering what the fuck I was smoking while I wrote this. lol And as always, please enjoy! : )

♥♥♥♥

Arlong was not what you would consider a nice man.

There was something mean about him, and undeniably so, but the way he crowds you against the wall late one evening still manages to catch you off guard. You’d thought you had already seen everything his cruelty had to offer. Foolishly, you’d believed that there was a certain line even someone like him would not cross.

Regrettably, you’d been wrong about that.

“W - what are you doing?”

“Don’t be coy.” He mutters while he idly, possessively toys with a strand of your hair between his webbed fingers. “I know you’ve been looking forward to this.”

The cloying stink of booze on his breath hits you all at once and you wrinkle your nose in distaste. You don’t mean to do it. You regret it almost instantly but Arlong doesn’t care for the why or the how, or the rushed apology already forming on the tip of your tongue. All he sees is the discomfort etched across your expression and his demeanor responds in kind, becoming surly and aggressive in the same moment.

With a rumbling grunt, he steps into you and bodily shoves you against the wall. The amount of force in just that simple gesture has you quailing under the imposing weight of him even as you start to shirk away. You think to bolt for safety a little too late and his clammy hand takes advantage of that split second indecision to grab your chin, forcing your head up to look at him.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Hm?” He curls himself over you, bracing his other arm high above your head on the wall so he can lean close and get in your face. You’ve never felt quite so minuscule as you do standing there, frozen to the spot and horribly dwarfed by the towering fishman who’s hacksaw nose was mere inches from yours now.

With each passing second, it was becoming exceedingly hard not to panic.

“Am I not to your liking? Is that it? You’ve really never thought about this before?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. You aren’t sure what to say. You don’t know what it is he wants to hear.

Arlong doesn’t wait around for a proper response, though, and instead trails smooth, rubbery fingers down your neck to your shoulder, and then further still to grasp your wrist. You put up no resistance when he pulls, unceremoniously directing your slack hand to the front of his shorts and you jolt at the firm weight pressing up into your palm.

Sucking in a stilted gasp, your eyes go wide at him. “I - I haven’t - -“

“No?” He cuts across you with a faintly disappointed sigh. “Not even a little? You’re not at all curious?”

You whimper, shaking your head when he squeezes and manually forces your hand to close around the stiff outline in his pants. It was big and still growing, as evidenced by the eager twitch it gives at your touch. Shame immediately washes over you when your pussy clenches, the blood in your neck pounding as you try to turn away from him.

“Of course not, w - what would I have to be curious about?”

“You ever seen a fishman’s cock before?”

Your ears were starting to burn. “Nuh … no. Please, Arlong. I don’t - -“

“Come on. I’m sure you’ll like it. There isn’t anything else like it in the whole world, y’know. One of a kind.”

Same as before, he doesn’t give you a chance to sort through your thoughts before taking the incentive. His unoccupied hand drops from the wall and tugs at the waistband of his shorts even while he wrests your twisting hand where he wants it to be. You struggle wildly now, adrenaline fueled fear making you desperate and jerky, but he’s much too strong to break free from. You were trapped.

Horrified, you screw your eyes shut before you can catch a glimpse of what’s hanging between his legs. You’d never seen one before - not a fishman’s, and you would have preferred to keep it that way. The hushed rumors you’d overheard about encounters between people like Arlong and humans such as yourself were nothing kind, after all.

But with very little effort on his part, he clamps your hand into place and you go stock-still at the sensation of porcelain smooth, velvety skin under your fingertips. It doesn’t feel half as repulsive as you’d imagined it would. And, you’re surprised to find, it doesn’t look anywhere near as unnatural as you’d assumed it to be when you apprehensively crack your eyes open and glance at it.

What you had in your hand was just a cock. Nothing more and nothing less.

Albeit a rather large, hefty cock that was a slightly darker shade of blue than the rest of him but still by all accounts a normal looking appendage. If it hadn’t been for it’s unusual color and the staggering size, you could have easily mistaken it for a human’s.

Embarrassed, you flounder for something to say. “It’s … it’s rather nice, isn’t it?”

Arlong snorts and displaces a few of your wispy flyaways with the resulting puff of air, making you shudder between him and the wall. “Don’t try to bullshit me. S’not polite.”

“I’m not.” You insist, shyly forcing your gaze up to meet his. “I expected something different, that’s all.”

“Like what?” He murmurs as he leans his weight into you, not so subtly pinning you under him. You swallow hard, hesitant to say it. But either by virtue of being mildly intoxicated or genuine sincerity on his part, you felt a strange sort of inclination to be honest with him.

“Frankly, I thought it would be more monstrous.”

Arlong manages to catch you off guard again when he outright laughs at that. “Give it time. I’m not fully hard yet.”

Your eyes go big as saucers. “W - wha - -“

He laughs again, somehow even louder this time, and you start to quake with renewed vigor as his cock does indeed continue to twitch and grow in your hand. You couldn’t believe that it would get any bigger than it already was but the proof was right in front of your face. It was still filling out, becoming increasingly more weighty in your palm, and that knowledge terrified you far more than you were willing to admit.

“Don’t look so scared.” He coos, anything but sympathetic when he notices the obvious disquiet casting a shadow over your face. His suddenly good mood did not bode well for you at all. “You said it was nice, didn’t you?”

“Well … well, yes, but - -“

“Here. Let me show you something.”

Releasing his hold on you, Arlong clamps his moist palm down on the back of your neck and unceremoniously steers you forward, away from the wall. You don’t even think to fight it. And how could you when your fate was already sealed? You’d given him an inch by conceding that his cock was not entirely disagreeable and now he was taking a mile.

It was your own fault, really.

“Wait - hold on.” You stammer, panic suddenly creeping into your voice when you realize he was making a beeline with you for the nearest chair. “I didn’t mean it like that, Arlong! I just - -“

“You just what?” He sneers. “Felt like teasing me some more? Thought it’d be funny to tempt me with that pretty little mouth of yours again?”

You sputter in red faced affront. “I never - -“

Cutting you off yet again, he forcefully shoves you down onto your knees. Hard.

You seethe at the splintering pain racing up your legs as he pivots around you to plop down on the waiting seat, his ever present grip on the back of your neck quickly dragging you closer. Arlong’s anticipation for what was coming next was almost palpable, the eager excitement in his motions clear as day. In a last ditch effort, you try to twist away from him but he holds firm even as he works to tug his shorts the rest of the way down with the opposite hand.

“I know you’ve thought about this.” He says it again, breathy now, as if repetition would somehow make it true. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, sweetheart. There’s no need to hide it.”

Whatever biting insult you were going to spit at him catches in your throat and momentarily chokes you when he gets his pants down over his knees, cock springing up in all its full glory. You outright stare, your mouth going dry. Mind blank and pussy aching with phantom pain.

You weren’t sure what he expected you to do with it. He was far too big to fit in any human orifice, surely; but if he was at all concerned about the logistics involved he certainly didn’t show it.

Casually kicking his shorts off, Arlong plants his feet firmly on the floor and shuffles his long legs wide open to welcome you in. The heavy sway of his hanging nutsack seems to taunt you, silently promising a steaming hot load that you weren’t prepared to take. You audibly gulp down your nerves as he pulls you closer, right up against him until the sinfully smooth shaft of his cock is pressed tight against your cheek. It was hard to breathe through the potently masculine musk assaulting your nose and even harder to come to terms with the way your cunt gushes in response to it.

Why was this turning you on so much?

“Arlong … please!” You mewl, helpless to stop it when he relentlessly rubs his cock against your face as if to scent you. “Please listen to me. I never intentionally tried to tease you. I’m sorry …”

“Liar.” A sharp thwack against your cheek accompanies this accusation, the fleshy head of his dick leaving a sharp sting in its wake. “You want me. Just admit that. If you do, your punishment for being such a flirty slut won’t be so severe.”

You bristle at that, trying once again to recoil from him, but he merely pinches your neck even tighter to keep you in place. All you can do is watch in mounting horror as he takes his cock in the opposite hand and starts to pump it, slowly, as if to coax it that last little bit harder. The prominent vein running along the underside visibly throbs for you while he does it, pushing against the thin layer of skin in a rhythmic beat which probably would have flattered you under better circumstances. You hadn’t thought he’d get this worked up over you.

But, to be fair, you also hadn’t expected Arlong to be interested in a human woman in the first place.

“Like the view? You’re going to be a good girl and suck it for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Dazedly, you watch the steady up and down motion of his webbed hand until you eventually find yourself nodding along with it. You felt vaguely like an idiot for consenting to this but there was no denying how tantalizing he looked. For better or worse, you were willing to take the risk.

And that seems to amuse him a great deal, his raspy laugh misting over you even as he adds a twist to his pumping motion, tugging at the foreskin in the process. Scandalized surprise rushes to the forefront of your mind when you catch your first peek of the glans and realize it’s a blue so dark and rich it was almost purple. It’s such a stark contrast from the rest of his uniquely pigmented skin that you immediately want to see more of it, and you lean forward to get a better look with nothing short of rapt fascination. You’d never seen anything quite like it before.

“You’re that interested now?” He murmurs knowingly, snickering faintly under his breath.

“Only a little …”

“Liar.”

But Arlong’s tone holds no real bite this time, and he graciously gives you what you want by rolling the meaty tip back to tuck it behind the ridged glans. The blunt head is just as impossibly smooth as the rest of him, his skin entirely free of pores or blemishes, and so firm that you aren’t sure if there will be any give to it. You’re immediately reminded that you and him were not the same, the differences between you two as glaring as ever.

Without missing a beat, you decide you no longer care.

Reaching up, you carefully take him in hand and a thrill runs through you at the sensation. He’s every bit as silky as he looks but when you experimentally squeeze, it becomes apparent that he’s also relentlessly stiff. You’d thought, maybe, it was just the muscle bound parts of him that were as unyielding as they appeared to be but even this area was so densely padded with fatty insulation that it offered very little cushion. It seemed, then, that the only truly soft spot on his body was probably his ballsack.

Tentatively, you rove your gaze up to look at him. “Can I really?”

“I’ll be pissed if you don’t.”

You scoff, trying not to smile, but when that fails you lean up to drag your tongue along the throbbing vein and hide the curl of your mouth. A triumphant sigh puffs out of him, the hand on the back of your neck relaxing slightly, but he makes no move to completely let go of you yet. The weight of his palm spurs you on and you go up a little higher to flick at the glans, pleasantly surprised at the taste of him. Salty and strong, yet not repugnant. It was a heady flavor, one you’ve never sampled before, and you can’t help but wonder if this is how all fishmen taste. It was strangely intoxicating.

“There’s my good girl. That’s it.” He goads you, leaning back into the chair so he can fully appreciate the sight of you on your knees for him. “Is it as good as you thought it’d be? All you had to do was ask and I would have let you do this a lot sooner, you know.”

Resisting the urge to snap at him to shut up, you use your grip on his cock to angle the tip towards your face. The narrow slit in the center of that purple-blue bud winks at you, oozing a fresh bead of slick precum that glistens faintly in the overhead light. Sticking your tongue out, you lap it up with a hunger you hadn’t expected from yourself and a fresh wave of bitter salt swarms your tastebuds. You moan, very quietly, against the glans before sealing your lips around it.

Arlong’s lean thighs give the faintest jolt in response, his pelvis lifting just enough to nudge his dick a little deeper into your mouth. You allow it, for the time being, far too caught up in the exquisite taste of him to worry about his propensity for being a bit pushy. It was in his nature, after all.

But when you try to take more of him on your own, it quickly becomes apparent that your earlier estimation of him had been right on the money. He was much too large to comfortably fit and you only make it a few inches down before your jaw starts to scream in protest. You pull back to suckle on the spongy head for a moment, laving it with your tongue before deciding to try again. The progress you make is negligible at best, your lips straining around his girth as you furrow your brows and noise a muffled sound of frustration around him.

“Don’t try to force it, sweetheart. You’ll just hurt yourself.” He chuckles, the hand on the back of your neck sliding higher to curl around the curve of your skull. His palm is massive in comparison and you feel your cheeks start to warm when he condescendingly pats your head, tutting at you. “You’ll have to practice hard if you want to take it all someday.”

The heat inside your gut sparks anew as your eyes snap up at his face. He smirks right back, razor sharp rows of teeth glinting dangerously and reminding you, once again, that he was a real threat. An apex predator of the most deadly kind, and you were knelt at his feet sucking his cock like a good little pet. You should have been ashamed of yourself. You probably were going to be ashamed of yourself, later, when the carnal high faded and your senses returned.

For now, though, you’d already made peace with your fate and you pointedly give his cock a rough tug. That only makes Arlong’s lascivious grin widen, though, and you’re left with no other choice but come up off him with a wet, smacking pop to give your jaw a break.

Tilting your head back while you suck in a much needed lung full of air, you pull his cock to your open mouth and set it along your tongue. He hums appreciatively at the visual while you pump the length of him with your hand, letting more precum ooze out of him and onto your waiting palette. A faltering groan rises in the back of your throat at the taste, so heady and potent that it makes your mind spin dizzyingly fast. You couldn’t get enough.

“Heh. I take it you like it then?”

In lieu of an answer, you seal your lips around him and lean forward again, glancing up at Arlong through the fall of your lashes. His stilted sigh of approval rushes straight to your cunt, and you give a needy little squirm as he drags webbed fingers along the side of your face to touch at the pulled taught corner of your mouth. Rubbery palm skirting along your cheek, he reaches further back and then clamps down on the nape of your neck so he can pull you somehow even closer to him.

You’re pressed flush against the chair by the time he’s satisfied, neck straining to accommodate the length of his cock. Your unoccupied hand comes up to brace against his thigh when he starts to guide you through a bobbing motion, the stuffed full schlucking noise of your mouth almost unbearably loud in the otherwise quiet room. It sounds borderline obscene to you but he appears to enjoy it, resting his head against the back of the chair and sighing up at the ceiling with unmistakable pleasure coloring the exhalation.

Your pussy clenches at the sight of Arlong enjoying himself so much, enjoying what you were doing to him, and you offer the glans another enthusiastic suck in return. His fingers twitch against your neck and squeeze, just this side of painful. But he does a good job keeping himself in check, and you put a little more effort into pumping the part of him that your lips can’t reach by way of thanks. He could all too easily rip you in half - in more ways than one - so you appreciated the restraint he was showing.

He doesn’t even seem to notice the change in your hands pace though, his mouth running on drunken autopilot now that he’s let his guard down. Now that he’s fully given himself over to the wet warmth of your maw, he was uncharacteristically eager to heap his praises on you and you were more than happy to soak it all up.

“My good, good girl. Yeah, you like that cock, don’t you, baby? You love it. I can tell. You’ll never want another human to fuck you after I’m done. I’m gonna’ ruin you, you know that? So damn good for me …”

The tingling warmth that spreads through you makes it hard to think straight, your vision starting to swim as if you were looking through a foggy fish eye lense. You never thought he’d talk to you that way. Didn't think he could stand your kind enough to regard you as anything other than a nuisance to tolerate for the sake of his own goals. It may have just been the booze talking, you knew that, but you were still rather pleased by this turn of events anyway.

Your jaw was beginning to ache in earnest, though, and you whimper around his cock as you drag your hand down off his thigh to squeeze in between Arlong’s legs. Gently, you caress the heavy weight of his ballsack, delighted to find that it was just as soft and vulnerable as you’d suspected it would be. He hisses at the contact, hips lifting off the seat of the chair again, but he does it a little too roughly this time and you gag.

Seething through clenched teeth, he readjusts his hold on the back of your head, gets a better grip and slowly thrusts up into your mouth. The careful way he does it surprises you slightly, but you don’t get a chance to linger on that thought for very long because he immediately repeats the motion without giving you a moment to adjust and your eyes start to mist up. He doesn’t quite reach your throat like this, your lips already stretched to their limit and unable to accommodate any more of him, and yet that doesn’t stop you from choking with each drawn out flex of his hips. You were going to be sick at this rate.

Sucking in a faltering wet breath through your nose, you try to brace yourself for his next upward stroke. You weren’t sure how much more of this your gag reflex could take, or your poor jaw for that matter. Being on the receiving end of Arlong’s praises wasn’t worth it if you just ended up spewing your guts all over him, ruining everything in the end. Plus, you were pretty sure he’d just redact everything he’d said if it came down to that. You were damned either way.

Deciding it was best to take a moment and regroup, lest the unthinkable happen, you try to pull off him but the hand on your head keeps you firmly in place. You let out a muffled squawk, as confused as you were terrified of what would happen if he kept going like this. But he doesn’t seem to share any such concerns, and your gaze frantically shoots up at his face when he just keeps shallowly pumping into your mouth. He wasn’t even looking at you, though, his eyes closed and turned up at the ceiling.

“That’s it. Just a little more. I know it probably hurts, sweetheart, but just endure it a little bit longer for me, okay? I’m getting close … I’m getting so close, baby. Can you feel it? I’m gonna’ give you such a big load … ngh, you’ll never be able to swallow it all, but that’s okay. Just … haah, just keep it in your sweet little mouth a bit longer, okay?”

You don’t exactly have a choice in the matter, your cheeks burning hot as reflexive tears streak down your face. Abandoning his balls, you dig trembling fingers into the meat of Arlong’s inner thigh as a painful reminder that you were working on borrowed time here. But he seems to enjoy that, the groaning burst of air that puffs out of him in a sudden rush sending sympathetic shockwaves racing down your spine. Your panties were soaked at this point, uncomfortably clinging to your sticky cunt as you rock forward in a fruitless bid for relief. It was all you could do just to keep your lunch down, though, and you were far too lightheaded to even consider slipping your hand between your legs to rub circles into your clit. It wouldn’t take much to send you over the edge, either.

Even through your clothes, you were sure to cum quick - but how could you possibly think about that right now when he was still thrusting into your mouth at such a staggered pace that you felt as violated as if he’d properly fucked you? It didn’t make sense, how he had such a powerful effect on you when he’d barely even touched you so far. Almost like he had some sort of potent aphrodisiac at his deploy.

Could this possibly be a fishman, thing or was it just an Arlong thing?

“Oooh yeah, baby, right there. Right there. Your mouth feels so damn good. Are you ready? I’m gonna’ give it to you now … fuck, I’m cumming, baby, I’m cumming!”

With a feral, animalistic grunt, Arlong thrusts up off the chair and shoves his cock as far into your mouth as it will go. You sputter around him, frantically noising as your throat constricts and heaves against the pressure. In the same moment, he gives a full bodied shudder and hot, thick ropes shoot out of him to pool at the base of your tongue. Your eyes promptly roll back as you choke around his bubbling semen, face wet with tears and snot, and perspiration, but he doesn’t stop. It just keeps coming out of him, flooding your mouth until you’re sure you’ll drown in it.

So blissfully numb by the time he finally pulls out, you almost don’t notice the absence. It’s only when a fresh string of ejaculate plops heavy against your cheek that you realize he's cumming on your face now, and you obediently stick your tongue out to catch the salty discharge. He doesn’t seem to be aiming for your mouth, though, and you’re left with no other choice than to sit there and let him paint your face white until the pulses gradually slow to a stop some moments later.

The last bit oozes out of him, achingly drained from the bottom of his balls it would seem, as he squeezes it from the base up with an accompanying guttural moan. You let him push your head back down without protest and lap up the sticky bead, much to Arlong’s heaving pleasure.

He was still panting from the exertion, trying to catch his breath, and you were still struggling to swallow the excessive cum in your mouth so you could breathe at all. An odd sense of peace settles in the aftermath and you think maybe, in a far off, dreamy sort of way, maybe he wasn’t quite as mean as you’d pegged him. Someone inherently cruel wouldn’t have been so mindful of your physical limitations, right?

You’re pretty sure that’s not how it usually goes, anyway.

Gathering yourself to the best of your ability, you glance down at the front of your shirt only to outright grimace. You were absolutely coated in sheets of fast drying cum, and you weren’t so sure it wouldn’t stain. Dammit.

“So, uh. Do you always cum buckets, or was that all just for little ol’ me?” You venture to ask, not the least bit surprised when your voice comes out a raspy mess. You’d definitely need some warm tea after this.

“It’s a fishman thing.” He says rather flippantly, clearly unconcerned. “You’ll get used to it.”

Your head comes up in stark surprise. Well. That certainly answered your earlier question.

“Y’know,” you say, speaking cautiously slow. “That sounds an awful lot like you’re planning on doing this again, boss.”

Arlong actually has the audacity to smirk at you, his pale eyes dancing with what could only be mischief, and a not entirely unpleasant shudder promptly races through you in response.

“Again? We haven’t even finished the first time, sweetheart.”

[scxrlettwxtches]

a throne of roses | hwang hyunjin

genre: royal au, fluff/angst, fem!reader

warnings: blood, violence, a little suggestive (hehe)

word count: 16.7k+

description: when the king that conquered your country, hwang hyunjin, arranged a marriage for the two of you, not once did you expect to feel any emotion except hatred and bitterness to blossom between you. will you stand to hate your enemy until the end, or will you realize that the cold-hearted ruler is not as cruel as he seemed?

a/n: im back!! im so sorry to have been gone so long. i suffered a huge writer’s block, and even now, im really not sure how this fic holds up despite being my longest story by a lonnnngggg shot. i really hope people like it ahhhh >.< i will get back to my kiss prompts now that i got this monster fic out of the way! as always, i love all of you guys and my ask box/dms are always open if anyone wants to be friends!! <3

prologue.

The city was burning. 

Screams and sounds of roaring flame filled the air, the sky clouded from the smoke. You spurred your horse on at breakneck speed with the remnants of your battered army. A horrible deception, a betrayal of the worst kind, sent you to fight on the border while your enemy snuck in, attacking the capitol at its weakest moment.

You burst into the throne room just in time to see a figure standing above your mother and father. Their blood dripped down the marble staircases leading up to the throne, staining the pure white stone into a sickening red. 

“No!” You let out a guttural scream as you flung yourself at the man, your wicked blade aimed at his vulnerable throat, ready to kill. 

The man whirled to face you at the last second, raising his blade and intercepting your blow with a loud clang that echoed in the room, “Princess,” he smiled in greeting, holding you back as you continued to press your blade firmly against his. 

“Hwang Hyunjin, you bastard!” you snarled, twisting out of the sword lock and parrying with his blade skillfully. Staring at the eyes of the wretched king, the ruler that had drove your kingdom into war, your fury was increased tenfold. You wanted nothing more than to slit his throat and throw his dead body out into the streets for what he did to your beloved country. 

Hyunjin let out a noise you vaguely recognized as a laugh, “My apologies. I wasn’t expecting you to return so quickly, Your Highness,” he lashed out with a lethal strike, but you almost predicted it, blocking his attack with your blade. Still, Hyunjin didn’t seem the least bit fazed, and he continued to toy with you, enjoying a fight with someone so skilled, “The attack in the south mountain pass was supposed to delay you for more than two days.” 

Your blood boiled at his mockery, because no matter if you’d controlled the winds to bring you back to the capitol, Hyunjin would’ve still had the advantage with his much stronger army. 

“You know my father was considering your terms of surrender,” you spit out, ducking under his attack and striking at his open left side, but Hyunjin parried it, smirking as your anger grew.

“Well, he was taking a little too long, so I decided to speed up the process,” he replied, a wicked smile on his face as he finally caught an opening, and with a merciless slash of his sword, he nicked your right arm to the bone, cutting through the chainmail and drawing frightening amounts of blood. 

There was no time to wallow in the pain. You dropped your sword, catching it with your left hand and continuing your attack, but you were tiring quickly. Fighting your parents’ war had worn you down, and you didn’t have the strength you had when you first started fighting. 

Keeping a watchful eye, you felt a spark of hope as you caught an opening. You grabbed it without a second to waste, twisting your blade and aiming at his leg when you suddenly felt a blinding pain on your calf. You let out a cry, fallowing to your knees before the king who only smiled as his subordinates pinned you down, holding your arms back and pressing your face onto the marble floor. 

“Do you have any last words, Princess?” Hyunjin cooed as your hair was yanked back, forcing you to look at the cruel man.

“I hope you burn in hell,” you smiled, spitting at the ground before him. 

Hyunjin gripped your chin tightly, the smile on his face icy and controlled, “My, my, what a temper,” he chuckled before letting go of your face and backing away. The sun glinted through the windows, shining behind Hyunjin’s head like a halo. How ironic. The man was no angel, not at all. 

The last thing you could see was the king’s conceited smile before you felt blinding pain on the back of your head, knocking you out instantly. 

i. 

“Unlock the cell.”

Your head raised a fraction, your ears perking up at the mere sound of the familiar voice. After you were knocked out, you were dragged back to Hyunjin’s palace as a prisoner of war, chained in a dungeon cell with your hands hanging over your head, your armor having been stripped of you. 

As you kept your eyes trained to the floor, Hyunjin’s footsteps padded towards you, stopping right in front of your battered form. 

“Princess Y/N. The goddess of victory. A dazzling warrior on the battlefield, feared by her enemies and respected by her subordinates,” Hyunjin’s voice crooned with mock pity, “How does it feel to become the defeated princess, fallen from grace?”

You smirked, finally tilting your head up to glare at him with your cold eyes, “Better than being a coward that’s too scared to finish the job,” you snarled, and the restraints snapped tight as you pulled them with a violent tug. 

“You’re really pushing all the wrong buttons, Princess,” Hyunjin sighed, kicking some of the dirt and gravel that had collected in the dungeon away from his foot, “With all the trouble you gave my army, you deserve the most slow and painful death imaginable.”

“Oh? And what else does the infamously sadistic prince of the north have in store for me? I must say, I’ve been rather bored hanging here,” you sneered, making a deliberate show of licking your lips.

For the first time, Hyunjin looked visibly annoyed, his jaw clenching as he hissed almost to himself, “I should have just killed you.”

“Don’t worry, Your Highness. You still have a chance,” you said pleasantly, smiling at the king as if you weren’t chained up in his prison cell.

“Unfortunately, I need you alive.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff, “How terrible for you. How might I be of service, Your Majesty” Your voice was mocking, your lips curled in a sneer as Hyunjin studied your face. 

The king gave you a halfhearted glare, like he didn’t know whether to punish you for your loose mouth or just let it go because it wasn’t quite worth it. He gazed at you, skeptical intrigue clear in his eyes when he finally muttered, “Release the chains.”

You were not expecting such an order, and frankly, the guard was not expecting it either, “B-but, Your Majesty!”

“I’m not repeating myself a second time,” Hyunjin spoke simply, but his voice had an edge to it, as if daring the man to refuse his command. You could’ve sworn that the guard let out a squeak of fear as he nodded obediently, fumbling through his keys as he began to unlock the chains that cut into the soft skin of your wrist. 

When you finally felt the cuffs free your hands, you lost the only support holding you up, and your weakened legs buckled under the weight of your body. Before you could hit the floor hard, a firm body held you up, intercepting your fall and cushioning you with their chest as an arm wrapped around your waist.

“Oh dear,” Hyunjin sighed, easily picking up your weakened and frail body, carrying you in his arms as he walked out of the cell, “What am I going to do with you?”

“You know you could really just kill me,” you mumble in response as your head lolled against his chest, your hand absently bunching up his clothing to find a crevice to hold onto. 

“I know,” To your surprise, Hyunjin answered, and in your pain muddled state, he almost sounded gentle, “but I’d rather not do that if I can help it.”

Your tired, dazed eyes stared up at the king, only barely processing his words before sleep wrapped its comforting arms around you, lulling you with soothing words as your eyes finally fluttered closed and your head fell against Hyunjin’s chest.

“No one lays a finger on her. I don’t care if she’s an enemy commander, a foreign princess, or whatever other disgusting things you say,” Hyunjin spoke darkly after he’d tucked you in his bed, pulling the covers over your body. Letting go of his restraint for a moment, he allowed his expression to soften as he brushed a strand of your hair away from your face before his eyes turned ice cold once again. 

“Do you hear me? I see one more scratch on her body, and your heads will roll,” Hyunjin’s voice held the undertone of a growl as he stepped away from the bed, “Alert me when she wakes. Immediately.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

ii.

The first thing you noticed about your new surroundings was how soft the mattress was. Your finger twitched as your hand began to feel at the satin bedsheets. The pillow your head rested on felt as fluffy as a cloud, a luxury that you didn’t even have back at your own palace. This wasn’t the dungeon...no...this was--

Your eyes flew open as you sat up, your brain hard-wired for danger as you looked around the room. They were surprisingly lavish lodgings for a prisoner of war, if you could say so yourself. From the red satin curtains on the bed to the intricate designs of the ceilings and the walls, you would even venture and say that this room was fit for a king.

“So, the princess has awoken,” A voice pulled you out of your curious thoughts and immediately replaced them with thoughts of murder and annoyance as Hyunjin strolled into the room, dressed as immaculately as always.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” you replied, keeping your eyes trained on the blankets that covered you as you began to massage your legs through the covers. After a couple days of hanging in the dungeon, your legs had lost their strength and you were practically aching bring them back to their original state. 

Unbeknownst to you, Hyunjin smiled at your snide comments, rather enjoying the dry banter, “I didn’t know it would be a pleasure to see me.”

“It isn’t. I was just trying to be polite,” you said without missing a beat, maintaining a deadpan expression as you commented, “You’re quite generous to provide such a lavish guest room to a prisoner that threatens your control over your newly claimed country.”

“This isn’t a guest room,” Hyunjin corrected you as he pulled a chair closer to your side of the bed, sitting down even as you distinctively refused to look at him, “It’s my bedroom.”

Your apathetic expression faltered for a moment, a true sign of just how much the revelation had flustered you, “Your bedroom?” you repeated, a tang of disgust in your tone that couldn’t be missed even if one tried to avoid it.

“Yes, Your Highness, I’m afraid it is,” Hyunjin had wanted you to sleep in comfort. He hadn’t wanted to keep you in the dungeon for so long, but he had gotten distracted with business with another neighboring kingdom, and he didn’t trust his men enough to let them deal with you. After all, you’d put up a difficult fight keeping them out of your kingdom, and many soldiers were bitter with the long war that was raged. 

But all of that? He would never tell you. 

Sputtering at his nonchalant expression, you finally looked up at him, a scowl on your face, “Are you truly an idiot? The only people allowed to stay in the king’s chambers are the king and--” you suddenly froze, and Hyunjin could see you putting the pieces together in your head as your eyes narrowed at him, and he had to physically hold back his nervous gulp.

“What are you planning, Your Majesty?” your expression was darker than the shadows of the deepest caves, and your knuckles were white from how hard you were gripping the bedsheets.

“Since I’m sure you’ve figured most of it out already, I won’t beat around the bush,” Hyunjin spoke nonchalantly, glancing at your hands for a split second before turning his gaze to your face.

“I want you to be my Queen.”

The silence that screamed between the two of you was shrill and long until you broke it with a choked voice of disbelief, “That’s not funny, Your Majesty.”

“I assure you, I don’t like to joke around,” Hyunjin replied, “I want to wed you and unite our two kingdoms with marriage instead of blood.”

“Well, you should’ve offered that first, don’t you think?!” you snarled, shifting to lash out at the man when you winced, grabbing at your leg that throbbed from your sudden movements, “How dare you say that to me now, after you burned our cities to the ground? After you killed so many of my people?”

Hyunjin was silent for a moment, and if you didn’t know him any better, you might’ve thought he was genuinely contemplating on how to respond. Finally, he sighed, slumping forward in his seat as he reached down and began to gently massage your legs over the covers.

“H-hey--” The protests died in your mouth as the relaxing sensations drove your body to loosen up even as your brain screamed for you to do something. But what could you do? Especially when the gentle ministrations of his hands felt oh so soothing to your worn out muscles. 

“Princess, I truly do not want to force you into marriage,” your ears perked up at his curiously gentle tone. What was the man playing at? He sounded almost genuine as he appealed to you.

“Then, don’t,” you replied easily, merciless and without hesitation, “You have already taken over the capitol. I am sure the lords surrendered, they were always a spineless bunch,” you couldn’t hide the spite in your tone. The lack of support from the nobles of your kingdom was another reason you had suffered such a crushing defeat. 

Hyunjin let out a chuckle, and his hands squeezed a little softer and with more gentle strokes as if trying to relax you, “Yes, the nobles of your kingdom were quite quick to accept any of my conditions as long as I kept their estates intact,” you scoffed at his words before he continued, “but unfortunately for me, the rest of your people are not as cowardly.”

Your eyes narrowed, “What do you mean?”

“Many riots and small scale rebellions have erupted around the land and in the capitol as well,” Hyunjin admitted, keeping his eyes focused on the blankets around your legs, “We...aren’t familiar with how the country is run, and they are not pleased with the sudden existence of foreign military force.”

“Did you really think they would be overjoyed to see you?” You asked, deadpan.

The king ignored your sarcastic comments, “Small rebellions have begun to emerge, especially in the capitol and in some of the neighboring towns,” he continued, studying your face and gauging your reactions, “They won’t rest until they have their rightful ruler back. Our marriage could solve that and calm the unrest.”

“Marriage can’t be the only option,” you protested, desperate to get out of this, “I can renounce my claim to the throne, and then you’d be the only ruler. You won’t have any need to marry me at all.”

“That can’t happen!” Hyunjin snapped, trying to hide the sudden burst of nervousness that fluttered in his heart, “Your people would never accept that you of all people would renounce your claim. They would just assume I forced you into it.”

“Oh, like the marriage isn’t forced either?” you retorted coldly, crossing your arms. 

Hyunjin’s hands on your legs slowed to a stop, “Princess,” his voice was soft, “My men have not begun to enforce the brunt of the law on those riots, but they are growing anxious. The people who are sick of fighting are being targeted by those who call them traitors. Your people are killing each other--”

“And who’s fault is it?” you bared your teeth in a snarl, and if you had a weapon at that moment, you would’ve plunged it into Hyunjin’s shoulder in a fit of rage, “Who’s fault is it?”

The king’s expression grew a little darker, and his hands fell to his sides as he sensed your anger, “I understand your anger, your hatred. If the spots were switched, I would not be listening to a word you say either. But,” his eyes bore into yours, and in them, you found nothing but honest sincerity as he spoke, “you and I both know that I was not the one who started this war.”

You froze, your jaw going slack as Hyunjin’s words seeped into the depths of your heart. He was right; his kingdom did not start the war, yours did. Your parents, becoming greedy for the jewels that Hyunjin’s mountainous kingdom produced, had continued to aggravate and stir up tensions in the border until your army finally threw the first punch. 

In the end, it was you who reaped what you sow, and you supposed that this was heaven’s way of getting back at you for your foolishness.

“I have conditions.”

Hyunjin perked up immediately at your words and he nodded, “Let’s hear them,” he said, his expression with its normal mask of impassiveness, but you were beginning to see through it, finding the genuine eagerness that he hid from the world. 

“My people will not be treated like second class citizens,” you said, your voice hard. This was something you would never budge on, “They deserve the same rights and the same freedoms as your people.”

“Of course, you have my word,” Hyunjin nodded firmly, “Your people will be treated the same as mine.”

You couldn’t help the flash of approval that shone in your eyes before you cleared your throat, “I will also want to have a say in the new policy reforms you’ll instill on my kingdom.”

Hyunjin was quiet for a moment, but he didn’t seem surprised by your request in the slightest, “That is a given. After all, I don’t want a queen that doesn’t question my orders,” he chuckled as he studied your face, “Although, I am curious. I already gave you my word that I will treat your people well, why do you want to be involved with the policy making?”

“Because you are a conqueror, not a king,” you replied firmly, not ounce of doubt in your words, “at least to my people. You do not understand their temperament and their customs, just as I do not understand yours. If they sense that your new laws do not actively seek out what’s best for them, they will not follow them, marriage or not.”

For a moment, you feared that you had spoken too much, spoken out of turn for a mere prisoner of war, but Hyunjin gave a noise of understanding after considering your words, “I understand. You may be present for every council meeting.”

That surprised you, and you raised a suspicious eyebrow at the king. You had expected him to accept your advice, but you didn’t expect him to give you the permission to give your advice freely in front of his commanders. You didn’t know much about Hyunjin’s laws, but you studied your kingdom’s neighbors enough to know that this was quite unorthodox.

“What?” Hyunjin chuckled as he noticed your suspicious gaze, “You asked for it.”

“I just wasn’t sure your commanders would be very excited to see a woman tell them what to do,” you retorted dryly.

Hyunjin shrugged, looking not the least bit bothered, “If they aren’t, then they lose their post, that’s all,” before you could really acknowledge just how nonchalant he was about giving you power over his council, he looked at you expectantly, “Anything else?”

After pondering for a moment, your fingers fiddling with the sheets absently, you finally decided on the last condition.

“I will be your one and only.”

Hyunjin’s brow furrowed, and at first, you took it to mean discontent with your demand, but it was merely confusion, “What do you mean?”

Your cheeks grew a little hot as you were forced to elaborate on your rather embarrassing request, “You will not take another wife after you are done exploiting me to transition my kingdom into yours,” you spoke simply, not bothering to mince your words any further, “I won’t be arrogant enough to think that I can prevent you from finding a mistress--”

“I don’t want--” The king suddenly interrupted you, and his choked tone of voice was rather unexpected. Hyunjin looked at you as if he had something urgent to tell you, something that was close to bursting out of his mouth if he didn’t decide to say it himself. Yet, when he finally managed to speak, you knew it wasn’t the words he’d originally wanted to say.

“I don’t want a mistress. I have no intention of seeing anyone else romantically after you,” Hyunjin said firmly, his intense brown eyes staring deep into yours to convey his sincerity, “This condition, I can promise you easily.”

You nodded mutely, not wanting to admit how him treating your marriage with steadfast devotion made you feel. It was just purely for political purposes, after all.

“If you agree to uphold those three conditions,” you looked to Hyunjin as you spoke softly, your next words sealing your fate, “then I agree to your proposal.”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Hyunjin let a flash of excitement pass across his face for a moment, “You’ll marry me?” he asked, and if you blinked, you’d missed the eagerness in his tone, “I want you to say it, Princess.”

“Why? Is my word not enough for you, Your Majesty?” Your lips quirked up in a dry smile.

“Are you really so cold as to deny me this one request?” As you gazed at the young king, you noticed the guarded look in his expression, as if he was bracing for you to snap, to lash out at him coldly.

You refused to let it get to you, but you were grateful that he was so receptive to your demands. As a princess of a once flourishing kingdom, you were no stranger to kings, princes, lords, and anyone else of that sort. None of them would ever dream of giving you the courtesy that the man was giving you at the moment. Perhaps you could return the favor at least a little.

“I want to marry you, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin’s genuinely stunned expression stayed in your brain as you went to sleep that night, comfortably swathed in the king’s lavish silk and satin sheets. 

iii.

“Not that I’m not excited to return, but why exactly are we going back to my kingdom for the wedding?” You asked curiously as you rode your horse through the mountainous roads necessary to cross into your side of the border, “Isn’t it dangerous to send a captured princess back to her own territory?”

“Ah, but you see,” Hyunjin smiled, the sunlight hitting his face in a way that made him look almost ethereal, “you’re not a captured princess. You’re my fiancé, and it’s a long standing tradition to marry at the bride’s hometown, is it not?”

You rolled your eyes discreetly at his shameless words, giving your horse a light bump of your leg to spur it ahead of Hyunjin’s. Damn northerners and their thick blood, you cursed as you shivered again, still not accustomed to the icy temperatures of the mountains even during the spring. 

“Here,” A sudden weight on your shoulders pulled you out of your thoughts, one that was warm and soft. Feeling it with your hands and tilting your head to glance at it, your eyes widened.

“Hyunjin, you absolute idiot, this--”

“Is a royal cape? Yes, I know,” Hyunjin answered nonchalantly, his horse galloping leisurely beside yours.

You sputtered incomprehensibly until you finally managed to put words together, “Only the king can wear this!”

Hyunjin tilted his head towards you inquisitively, “And?”

“It’s basically law!” You exclaimed, wondering if the king truly had some issues like the rumors had stated during your time in the war. Shaking your head, your hand grabbed the edge of the cape, ready to rip it off you when Hyunjin’s hand lashed out, grabbing your hand and stopping your motions.

“Don’t,” his voice was stern as he looked into your eyes, and you felt your blood boil at the light show of concern in his expression, “You’re cold, right? It’ll keep you warm.”

“Did you not hear a word I said?” You scoffed, trying to pull yourself away from Hyunjin, but the road was only so wide, and there wasn’t much room for you to maneuver, “It’s a royal cape. Only the king is allowed to wear it.”

Hyunjin blinked, “Well, I’m the king, so my word is law,” he answered, looking not the least bit bothered, “and I’d rather keep my fiancé healthy than abide by some stuffy tradition.”

You were so flustered by his blunt words that you stopped fighting against his grip. The moment he felt the resistance flow out of your body, Hyunjin flashed you a charming smile before spurring his horse to take a pace just a little faster than yours.

Oh, so that was how he wanted to play. Scowling, you gently kicked the side of your horse, causing them to gallop past Hyunjin as your lips quirked into a pleased smile. 

“You know, if you go any faster, you’ll lose our entourage,” Hyunjin mused as he easily urged his horse forward, matching your pace and riding side my side with you, the procession of knights, maids and servants following behind. 

Glancing back, you noticed that they were a slight distance away and with a huff of air, you tugged at the reigns, slowing your horse to appease him, “Now, is that really such a bad thing?” you asked, blinking innocently. 

Hyunjin gave you a wry smile, one that had grown warmer through the week you’d stayed at his palace. It was a rather strange predicament you had found yourself falling into. Realizing that there was no way for you to avoid the marriage, you had decided to do the only other thing possible to prevent it.

That was to be totally obnoxious to the point where the king would have no choice but to turn his nose up in scorn and leave you to be.

Except, it didn’t quite work that way, and on the contrary, Hyunjin seemed to enjoy bantering with you. In fact, you had a sneaking suspicion that he was trying to pull it out of you, to push your buttons as much as you push his.

It wasn’t what you had hoped for, but it wasn’t there worst possible scenario.

“Hello? Y/N!” Hyunjin reached over, poking your cheek and pulling out a surprised squeak from you.

“What?” you snapped, blushing that you were caught so blatantly with your guard down.

The king gave you a strange glance, also noticing that you were unusually inattentive. His eyes studied your face with something akin to concern in his expression before he dropped the subject, “We’re here, the border.”

You looked around, immediately feeling the wave of nostalgia hit you in full force as you stood at the top of the mountain, gazing at the large expanse of your kingdom, or rather, what was once your kingdom. The lush green fields, the massive trees that looked like specs from where you were, and in the far distance, the capitol city. Your old home.

Suddenly, you felt a gentle nudge on your arm as Hyunjin looked at you, “Let’s scout ahead of the entourage.”

Despite your moment of weakness, you couldn’t help but smirk, sweetness dripping from your words, “Don’t you have scouts in your entourage, Your Majesty?”

“Very funny. You know what I mean,” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, but his expression curled into a sly smile as if daring, goading you towards something, “Don’t you want to race and see who’s really the better rider?”

A predatory smile appeared on your lips, your natural response due to how utterly competitive you were, “Are you sure you want your whole court to witness your loss?”

“Oh, please. You might never want to go out and ride with me again after you experience your crushing defeat.” 

The grin you were showing was wicked, not so different from smile that would flit across your face during the heat of a battle, “Don’t run away crying when you lose.”

“I would never run away from you, Princess.”

You only gave him a saccharine smile in return, and without another word, you flicked your wrist, sending your horse forward with a burst of speed. There was no need to look back; Hyunjin was hot on your heels.

The two of you descended down the mountainous path, going faster than normal but staying mindful of the potential dangers. Once you made it to the flat plains, your smile widened and the two of your tore down the road. 

For the first time since you’d lost your kingdom, you felt truly free, your long hair and the silk of your dress billowing behind you, the wind blowing in your face as you tore past the plains and into the woods. In a moment of consciousness, you could hear Hyunjin’s laugh from behind you, but you could hardly bring yourself to care. Let him chase you. It only made things more exciting.

You finally pulled your horse to a full stop as you reached the edge of the hill. Breathing heavily, you gazed as the winding road that sloped down, lower and lower until it reached the capitol city. You were home. You stared at the falling sun, the quaint little houses below, and you could almost smell the fresh bread at the corner bakery you frequented back when you were young. sneaking out of the palace because you hated the posh, white bread they served.

Hyunjin pulled his horse to wait beside yours, catching the peaceful smile on your face. There was something alluring about you when you fought against him, but seeing what you looked like when you tasted true happiness, it made his heart soften just a little.

“It’s beautiful,” he commented, slowing his horse down beside yours.

“You should see it during the lantern festivals,” you smiled, looking down at the immense city from a distance, “The city lights up at night, and no one sleeps that entire week.”

“Maybe we should come back to experience it one day,” Hyunjin suggested, his voice casual, but his eyes shrouded with slight uncertainty, knowing that he was probing into untapped territory.

To his surprise, the relaxed smile on your face remained, “That’s not a bad idea,” you mused. Rolling your shoulders, you let out a sigh, looking out at the city below.

Then, reality hit you like a club to the gut as your eyes caught sight of the flag that waved at the front of the castle. Distant, barely discernible, but you knew at a glance. It was not your kingdom’s flag, and it was the cruelest reminder of the reason you were allowed to come home in the first place.

The king followed your line of sight, curious as to what caused such a sudden change in mood. When his eyes fell to the flag looming over the city, it clicked, “Y/N,” he started, swallowing as he considered his words carefully, “I have to establish rule at least for a little--”

“Don’t patronize me,” Your voice was colder than ice, and Hyunjin cursed at ill fate of your relationship. Always half a step forward, then three steps back, “I’m no stranger to conquering cities. Let’s get to the palace before dark,” you flicked the reigns, prepping your horse to begin moving.

“Wait--” Hyunjin’s hand reached over to grab your wrist before he was even fully conscious of his own actions. Surprised, your head whipped around to look at his face before looking down at where his large hand completely wrapped around your thin wrist.

“We have quite some time before the sky begins to darken at all,” Hyunjin reasoned with you calmly, and his thumb brushed against the soft skin of your arm in an instinctive attempt to appease your obvious anger, “And the rest of the court has not yet caught up to us.”

“Do you want us to lay down a cloth on the grass and chat over some afternoon tea?” You scoffed, trying to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened, squeezing his hand around your wrist as if he thought you would disappear right in front of him if he wasn’t touching you.

Hyunjin sighed, “I only want you to let me explain myself.”

If your anger had not boiled over before, it certainly did now. You rounded your horse to face him, your eyes burning with controlled fury, “Explain yourself? What exactly do you need to explain? Your kingdom conquered mine, lay siege to the capitol, burned down the cities in your path, and now you’re taking me as your trophy wife--”

“You’re not a trophy wife, Y/N,” Hyunjin finally interrupted you, his voice firm and steadfast. He looked you straight in the eye, his gaze never faltering as he spoke his mind, “I did not ask you to be my wife just to mutely sit by my side. I want your counsel, your advice, your opinion. You will be my Queen in both name and power.”

Taken aback by his words, your anger faltered and turned only into confusion, “Then,” you spoke, so flustered that you didn’t even notice Hyunjin’s hand had trailed down to hold your hand in his, “what was the point in conquering my country so completely, if you were planning to give me power in the first place?”

Hyunjin smiled, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You noticed that he smiled like that often; never quite looking fake but never truly happy either, “Your parents.”

Immediately, you stiffened, and just from your reaction, Hyunjin knew his explanation was partially complete, “I needed to remove them from the picture completely, and to do that, I needed a total victory.”

An uncomfortable feeling twisted in your gut. It was your mother and father that he was talking about! You should’ve been furious, spatting at the ground he walked on for his words to both of them, but in the end, you could only protest weakly, “Still, there was no need to--”

“You know they fed off the poor, right?” Hyunjin asked, his voice turning cold, “You know they corrupted the distribution of wealth and crops to fund their own gambling addiction, right?”

Your heart turned to ice as you stared at Hyunjin in absolute horror, “H-how did you--”

“Do you think your kingdom’s secrets stay inside the kingdom forever?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at your naivety, “Envoys talk, rumors spread. The king and queen of your kingdom were not fit to carry the weight of their people on their shoulders.”

Finally having enough of this pain, this scabs of your heart that Hyunjin was cruelly picking at, you snapped, turning your face away, “Then why marry me at all?! If you scorn at my parents’ corruption, why choose me? Is this just a twisted way of shoving their crimes into my face?”

“Because you’re not like them,” Hyunjin answered simply.

A bitter chuckle slipped past your lips, “You sound foolishly certain about that, Your Majesty.”

“I am,” The king did not mince his words. Why should he, when he knew it was true beyond a shadow of a doubt?

“I know you are nothing like them. You were their bandage, desperately trying to make up for their actions,” Hyunjin continued, “You compensated for their depletion of the bank with your own funds, you fed the poor from food storages hidden from the eyes of your parents.”

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes softened and he let warmth into his voice, “You fought me because of a war they started, and they intended you to be the only one who would pay the price for it.”

Your eyes felt uncomfortable tight as if you were about to cry, and under no circumstance were you going to let that happen in front of Hyunjin, “Why tell me all this now?” you asked, your voice uncharacteristically resigned as you kept your eyes trained at the distant palace, “You think I’m not fully aware of their cruelty? You think I haven’t spent my entire life trying to make up for my parents’ actions?” 

Hyunjin didn’t speak for a moment, taking in the weight of your words, “If I may ask,” he started softly, “if you knew about it, why didn’t you overthrow them? You certainly had the resources and the support of your people.”

The question brought a dry smile to your face as you turned to look at Hyunjin, “You’re right,” you answered wryly, “why didn’t I? It would’ve been the most logical course of action, don’t you think?” Hyunjin had no answer, because he knew your question was merely a rhetorical one, and he wasn’t about to fall into another one of your honeytraps and let you dodge the question that has plagued his mind since he first crossed blades with you.

“There isn’t anything complicated to it, really,” you glanced at Hyunjin with a sort of resigned annoyance, “I just couldn’t bring it in me to betray my family.”

“Did they ever even give you anything?” Hyunjin asked incredulously, “Did they ever show you affection at all?”

The almost spiteful questions made you laugh bitterly, “No, not at all,” Turning to Hyunjin, you gave a smile that didn’t reach your eyes, “Foolish me, right?”

Hyunjin stared at you, the sly comeback on the tip of his tongue disappearing as soon as it appeared. Despite your cold expression, your eyes told the truth, and he could see that your heart pained at the notion of having covered for your parents since you were old enough to read, only for them to throw you to the wolves, betraying you for money.

 “It isn’t foolish to love your parents,” Hyunjin answered softly, causing your eyes to widen in surprise, “It might be just an innate instinct to, even if they mistreat us.”

You let out a disbelieving chuckle, “Maybe you’re right.”

“You don’t have to feel guilt about what happened to them, you know,” Hyunjin turned to face the horizon where the sun was setting behind the palace.

“I don’t.”

“Don’t lie, it’s written all over your face,” Hyunjin said, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, “It’s killing you inside that you didn’t save your parents in time, right?”

You looked down at your hands, your heart burning with festering guilt, “How can I not?”

“You shouldn’t,” Hyunjin said bluntly, “They betrayed you to me, hoping that it would save them, when it only sealed their fate. There was nothing you could do about it.”

“I could’ve stopped you if I was only a moment earlier,” you argued, the guilt that had been bottled up inside you finally bursting out due to his prodding, “If I was only a little faster, then I would’ve--”

“Princess,” Hyunjin’s soft voice cut into your thoughts, “They didn’t deserve your kindness.”

You refused to admit how much his words soothed your anxiety, and in the dead of night, how they’d repeat in your head, allowing sleep to finally defeat the trauma your parents had instilled into you.

iv.

“Your Highness, please come sit down so I can do your hair!”

The sound of your exasperated maids filled your bedroom chamber as you huffed, tying your new silk robe in place before plopping down on the chair in front of the vanity, “What’s the rush? We have four hours before the wedding.”

Chaeryeong clicked her tongue in obvious exasperation, “Spending all your time out on the battlefield since birth, do you even know how much time it takes to get ready? Plus, you’re the future Queen, Your Highness! What would your husband think if you didn’t look prim and proper for the biggest event of your lives?”

Ah yes, your current fiancé. 

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that Hyunjin was doing his utmost to get on your good side. The moment the two of you arrived at your palace, Hyunjin lavished his wealth on you and your upcoming wedding. Every day you spent with him, he’d give you a gift, ranging from a simple rose to silk robes made by the finest tailors on the continent. You’d told him over and over that you didn’t need extravagance like this, but the king paid you no mind, and the boxes continued to be delivered to your bedroom every day.

If you were being honest, your heart had begun to feel a little warmer to him, his gentle actions chipping at your icy walls. It wasn’t just the gifts, it was his unabashed care for you that made you think that he was almost excited to be married to you, a rather outrageous idea in itself.

“Your Highness!” a voice interrupted your thoughts as Yuna scurried over to you, “His Majesty is outside.”

“Outside of this room?” you asked, turning to face her in surprise.

She nodded in confirmation, “He says he has something to give you.”

Hyunjin stood at the other side of your door, already dressed immaculately in his uniform, spotless and practically dripping with charm. He had walked over to your bedroom, eager to present you with his daily gift when Yuna had slipped out and promptly stopped him from going in.

“I just want to give her a gift!” Hyunjin had protested weakly, but with how stern she was being, he felt like a scolded child rather than an all powerful ruler.

“I’m very sorry, Your Majesty, but you cannot see the Princess until the wedding ceremony.”

Hyunjin was practically pouting at that point, fiddling with the velvet black box in his hands, “Can I at least talk to her?” he asked, “I’ll slip it through the door.”

The maid gave him a weary look before relenting, “Fine. Wait here, Your Majesty.”

“Hyunjin?” you called out hesitantly from the other side of the door, his name no longer feeling foreign to your lips.

“How are you feeling?” Hyunjin asked, feeling the waves of anxiety calm just from hearing your voice. You couldn’t help but smile; even in this moment, where a typical king would already be in celebration with his friends, almost always in some sort of brothel, he still came to make sure you were alright.

“Nervous, but who wouldn’t be?” You chuckled, playing with the doorknob, and a part of you yearned to open the door just to get a look at Hyunjin’s face. The two of you have spent practically most hours of the day together for the last couple weeks, either dealing with foreign envoys sending their congratulations or revising the laws for your kingdom; it almost felt strange to not see him at all for the whole day.

You could hear shuffling from the other side before Hyunjin spoke uncertainly, “Oh, I have a gift for you.”

“Again?” A breathless laugh left your lips, “Hyunjin, you’ve already spent an unseemly amount of money on me these last few days!”

“I know, I know, but this one is special!” Hyunjin argued before his hand slipped through the crack, holding a black velvet box. You took it gingerly, still shaking your head in mild amusement as you opened the present, your jaw dropping.

“Hyunjin, this is…” your voice refused to work as you stared at the diamond necklace, individual gems lacing the front part of the chain, worth more than any of the jewelry your mother ever had, and certainly more than the ones in your possession that you’d buy from local jewelers to support their business.

“Do you like it?” Even without seeing him, you could hear the genuine eagerness in Hyunjin’s voice, and it warmed your heart in a way you didn’t know was possible, as if he had wrapped you up in fluffy blankets on a cold winter day.

You smiled, your fingers delicately brushing the silver chain, “It’s beautiful,” you murmured, before speaking a little louder in case Hyunjin didn’t hear you (he did), “It’s really beautiful, Hyunjin. Thank you.”

There was a beat of silence before Hyunjin spoke again, his voice softer than before, which made you lean closer to the door just to hear him. You could guess his purpose, to say something to you before the wedding and to keep it out of the ears of the nosy maids that were currently standing at the corner of your room, giggling and gossiping amongst themselves.

“I-I know that you never wanted this marriage.” Was that a stutter you heard? It couldn’t be.

Hyunjin cleared his throat before continuing, “I know, in some way, I forced you into this, and I apologize. I’ll do my very best to be a husband that is worthy of standing by your side.”

For a moment, you genuinely thought you were dreaming, the king’s words repeating in your head over and over and yet making no sense at all. Him being worthy of standing next to you? Who was the king here? Why was he lowering himself to your status?

“Hyunjin--” your hand was at the door, instinctively moving to push the door open so you could speak to him in person, but his reflex was just as fast, pushing back with his own hand and keeping the door shut.

“Don’t come out! You know it’s bad luck!” Hyunjin scolded you, his voice sounding slightly panicked.

You let out a sigh, wondering why everyone embraced so many of these superstitions, even him, “You’re right, the door stays closed,” you reassured him gently. 

Hyunjin didn’t speak for a moment, and you almost thought he had left without a word when he began softly, “I know you didn’t want this marriage, but if your heart could have some room for me,” he swallowed, “any room at all, wear the necklace when you walk down the aisle.”

When you returned to the vanity, a dazed expression on your face as the maids giggled and continued to apply your makeup, you looked at your own appearance in the mirror, your hand gently brushing over the simple necklace that currently adorned your neck. 

In accordance to the traditions of your kingdom, if your father was not alive to present you to your husband, it was expected of you to wear a gift from them as a symbol of their claim over you. The plain necklace with a single pearl charm in the center of it was the only jewelry you’d ever received from your father, and if you were being blatantly honest with yourself, you despised it.

Unconsciously, your other hand moved to rest atop the black velvet box now sitting on your vanity. Where your father’s jewlery felt like unwanted possession, you thought back to Hyunjin’s words. 

“I’ll do my very best to be a husband that is worthy of standing by your side.”

Why did those words send your heart into rapid beating? Why did those words feel so freeing, hearing your husband-to-be proclaim before his vows with such intimacy, only for your ears?

It didn’t take more than two minutes to come to a decision. You knew the path you had to take, the one that would allow you to break from the past and the constant obligation you’ve always felt.

“Yuna.”

“Yes, Your Highness?” Your maid smiles, immediately standing to attention as you open the black box. The other maids gasped at the sight of such a priceless artifact before them.

“Help me replace my current necklace, please.” 

v.

The wedding went without a hitch and you were officially the bride of the most powerful man on the continent. Even as the feast proceeded, your people utterly ecstatic that their beloved princess had been married off in such style, you found yourself playing with the ring that weighed down your fourth finger. It was just felt...foreign. 

As the night came to a close, and even the most drunken partygoers were politely escorted out of the palace gates, you were ushered into your bedroom by your maids, who looked a little too eager to have anything good planned.

“What are you all giggling about?” you sighed as they gently combed out the flowers in your hair.

“It’s your first night with the king, Your Highness!” Yuna answered, massaging your hands gently, “We have to pretty you up!”

“Oh?” you raised your eyebrows at her in suspicion before lightly jabbing her side, “Are you saying that I’m not pretty already?” 

Yuna fluttered her lashes innocently, “I didn’t say that, Your Highness,” Yeji and Ryujin hid their smiles and you only rolled your eyes, never finding it in you to be hard on any of them. The five maids have been by your side since you were young, and you were more than elated when Hyunjin had agreed to summon them back to the palace despite that they, more often than not, made you want to tear your hair out.

Like right now.

“I am not wearing that,” you shook your head, your voice dropping into a low growl. But one thing that always drove you a little insane, none of the girls were afraid of you.

Lia held up the lace sleepwear, smiling at you, “Hm? Why ever not?” She asked, as if the robe wasn’t practically sheer and leaving almost nothing to imagination.

“I’m dressing to go to bed!”

“Yes, going to bed with him, your new husband!” Chaeryeong laughed ushering you behind the divider, “Come on, you’re wearing that nightgown or we’ll tell His Majesty about the time you tried to climb the tower--”

“Fine! Demons, all of you,” you growled without any bite to it, and the only response were the laughter and giggles of your handmaidens. 

Hyunjin walked towards the bedroom, still wearing his uniform from the ceremony. Every few steps, he’d glance at the ring on his fourth finger. It wasn’t anywhere near the most expensive piece of jewelry he owns, but you had chosen it for him. You, his newly wedded wife. It made him positively giddy just thinking about it, but he contained himself because he was a king, for goodness sakes.

The door to his bedroom opened as the maids excused themselves. He recognized them as your handmaidens, especially because you had personally went up to him to request--no, demand politely--that they be brought back to your side. 

What was curious, though, was the way they were giggling amongst themselves, giggling that only grew when they spotted Hyunjin in the corridor. They gracefully curtsied at him before practically sprinting down the hall.

Hyunjin shook his head with a resigned smile as he opened the door to your now shared bedroom, “Your handmaidens were giggling nonstop as they walked out--”

The king’s voice completely failed to work for a solid minute as he gazed upon your figure, abashedly sitting on the edge of the bed. While he’d always thought you were beautiful, ever since the first, bloody meeting with your swords clashing, this was the first time he realized that you weren’t just beautiful, you were utterly divine. 

Whatever self restraint he had, the secret affection he’d buried for so long, it burst out like a raging fire.

“Hyunjin--” your words were cut short as the man rushed forward, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips smashed against yours, taking the gasp of surprise right out of you. 

It was unreal, the way you were being kissed, the way Hyunjin was kissing you. It was like nothing you’ve ever felt before, like a gust of wind was sweeping you off your feet. His lips were both gentle and insistent, tugging and giving to you in a way that gave you no choice but to let him in.

Your hands gripped at his uniform as Hyunjin hovered over you, his hands ghosting over your bare thighs as he gently guided you to lie down on the bed, never once pulling away from you. Hyunjin’s hands were roaming everywhere, cupping your face to touched the lace fabric on your waist. 

His name fell out of your lips as he squeezed your thighs, his tongue coming to  explore your mouth with a sort of urgency. It felt like the more you gave him, the more he took. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed out as he finally pulled away for a moment to breathe, his lips inches away from yours. Glancing down, his hand trailed to your neck, leaving featherlight touches on the soft skin as he marveled at the way you looked all splayed out on the bed for him, “And that necklace, it looked stunning…” he trailed off as he began to work at your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin. 

He was just so good. His hands knew exactly where to touch, where to be gentle. His lips knew when to be soft and when to be aggressive. As your hands instinctively moved to card through his soft black hair, a small part of you, a tiny speck of doubt in your mind festered. How many times has he done this to be so experienced? How many have been in the receiving end of his ceaseless praises and touches? 

It was only a hint of doubt, and you tried to shove it within the depths of your mind. Hyunjin’s relationships before your marriage shouldn’t matter, and to be brutally honest, you didn’t hold yourself in high enough esteem to think that you’d be able to keep his interest for even more than a few days. As your mother had once said in scorn, you were more soldier than lady. 

When Hyunjin’s lips trailed from your collarbones to just above your breasts, you began to squirm a little, the panic slowly seeking into your body. The king, enraptured by his actions, continued to travel lower and lower, and the anxiety in your chest only grew until it snapped as his hands slipped under your nightgown.

“H-Hyunjin—wait—stop, please stop—” you gasped out, frantically beginning to struggle and writhe beneath him. There wasn’t much of a fight, however, because the moment your panicked tone made it to Hyunjin’s ears, he backed away, completely getting off you and kneeling beside your breathless form, his eyes wide with an expression you’ve never seen on his face before. 

Horror. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” he choked out as his hands fluttered anxiously around you, debating whether or not to help you or not to touch you out all. In the end, his hands delicately rested on your shoulder as he helped you sit up. Stupid, why couldn’t he read the signs? 

You shook your head as you began to shiver, the heated atmosphere from before now fading from your bones, “N-no, I’m sorry,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around your body as if to protect yourself. From him. It made him sick to his stomach. 

“Don’t be sorry. It was my fault,” Hyunjin said firmly, and he grabbed one of his robes that were hanging somewhere in the bedroom, quickly returning to your side and throwing it over your shoulders, wrapping you up in clothing that actually covered you. 

What had happened? Hyunjin knew you were enjoying it at the onset. He could feel you kissing back, getting swept away as your hands lightly tugged at his hair. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have went so far to the point where he lost control of his own desire. When did you start panicking?

“No, not at all, Your Majesty,” you spoke softly, tugging at the robe around your shoulders to wrap it tighter around your frame, and Hyunjin had to physically hold back a flinch as his title fell out of your lips. You were his wife, for god’s sake! You didn’t need to call him that.

“I’m just...I’m merely overreacting,” you continued, hugging your knees to your chest and looking smaller than he’d ever seen you, “I understand that it’s a queen’s duty to...produce an heir,” you dipped your head, avoiding his eyes, “And I know this is a rather outrageous request, but I don’t want this until there’s at least some sort of affection between us.”

Hyunjin took a moment to process your words before his eyes widened. Oh dear, you’ve got this all wrong. You truly didn’t know. You didn’t know how much thought he’d put into the gifts he sent you. You didn’t know the way he’d tossed and turned the night before the wedding, childishly giddy at the very thought of marrying you. You didn’t know and didn’t realize it at all.

But it was alright. He could tell from just one look at you that you weren’t ready. And that was alright. He would wait. He’d wait his whole lifetime for you. 

“You aren’t overreacting,” Hyunjin said, his voice gentle as he moved to stroke your soft hair, “And you aren’t my queen just to produce an heir, you’re much more than that. I won’t ever push you until you’re ready.”

Your eyes widened at his words and your head whipped up to look at Hyunjin, who was now sitting on his legs on the bed in front of you, “B-but, what would people say?” you asked.

“We can pretend if it makes you uncomfortable, and if I hear any malicious rumors, I’ll put a stop to them,” Hyunjin answered, not an ounce of doubt in his words.

Despite your shaken state, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly, “How very terrifying, no wonder they call you the Ice King of the North,” this wasn’t the first time you’ve used that nickname on him, but it no longer held the malice it used to. Rather, there was a small playfulness to it, a gratitude for him being so understanding.

Hyunjin was happy to play along, anything to make you feel more at ease around him, “That’s a total farce,” he grumbled, “I never tortured soldiers for information, I just predicted their moves. I don’t need to stoop that low to win my battles.”

“Oh, you poor little one,” you said with mock pity, reaching up to pet his hair as if soothing a child. 

“Little one?” Hyunjin’s lips curled into a smirk as he rounded on you like a predator stalking its prey, “Are you sure I’m the little one here?”

“Hyunjin,” you warned, although it was hard to fight the smile from appearing on your face as you scooted away from you, “Don’t you--Hyunjin!”

You let out a squeal as Hyunjin pounced on you, attacking mercilessly with tickles as you fought back with the same amount of vigor. It was no use, though; Hyunjin was broader and had more than a head over you in height.

Your hand managed to latch onto a pillow and you took it smacking the side of his face hard with the fluffy object. The tide was turned, and you managed to slither out from under him, hitting him as you laughed. 

When you finally fell back on the bed, breathless and giggling, Hyunjin rolled over to you slowly. Cautiously, his hand wrapped around your waist, and to his utter surprise, you made no moves to push him away. Instead, you looked comfortable with the gesture, letting him pull you to his side gently.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

“What?” You looked up in surprise, feeling yourself snug against his chest as Hyunjin hummed, silently moving the covers up over your shoulders to keep you warm.

“I’m glad I married you,” Hyunjin murmured again, resting his head on yours.

You were silent for a long moment, his words ringing in his head. They were so gentle, so outrageously innocent for a man who you’d hated only a few weeks before. Slowly, your hand shifting, gently resting on his chest as you spoke softly, “I’m...glad it’s you, too.”

Hyunjin’s body tensed in surprise as if he wasn’t quite expecting you to parrot the words to him at all, and especially in that soft voice that only came out when you were showing your most vulnerable sides to him. His arm tightened around your waist as you closed your eyes, happily nestled in the embrace of your new husband.

interlude.

“Your Majesty. Your Majesty!” A servant waved his hand urgently as he rushed down the hallway. 

Hyunjin stopped short in his conversation with one of his commanders, Minho, spinning on his heels to address the man, “Yes, what is it?”

“Here is the invitation list for Her Majesty’s coronation,” he said, handing Hyunjin a long piece of parchment paper. The king unrolls the document, scanning through the guest list quickly before rolling it back in place, “Do away with this list.”

The messenger gawked at his request, utterly dumbfounded, “Your Majesty?” He stammers, puzzled.

“This list only includes the most high ranking officials and lords of the kingdom,” Hyunjin handed the parchment back to the messenger, “I want the throne room opened to all.”

“All?” Hyunjin’s commander sputtered, finally interjecting into the conversation, “Your Majesty, that would be a huge risk to take regarding security! Anyone could potentially sneak in and--”

“My Queen is not the type to only care for the noblemen, but also the rest of our people. We’ve already discussed it in length. She wants the common people present at her coronation as well,” Hyunjin replied.

Minho bristled internally. It had only been a few weeks since the king had brought home his new bride. The fact that he had not consulted with any of his military and economic advisors was already outrageous, and what made it even worse was how obviously besotted with her he was. 

Minho disliked her, along with the rest of the nobles. She was foreign blood and she was a technical prisoner of war. She also seemed to prioritize the commoners more than the people that actually paid for this monarchy. She threw a wrench in their plans, and they all hated her.

“Commander? Do you have anything to say in your defense?” The king’s icy tone broke into the man’s thoughts, Hyunjin’s eyebrow raised expectantly. 

It was only too bad that the king protected the queen almost more than he did his own life. 

“Nothing, Your Majesty. You are right, of course,” The experienced commander knew when to show his white flag, dipping his head in agreement. There was no point in angering his king over something as trivial as this.

Hyunjin obviously didn’t buy his saccharine sweetness, but he wasn’t petty enough to point it out either, “Speaking of the Queen,” he turned to the messenger, “would you happen to know where she is right now? She had wandered off to explore the palace after our military meeting adjourned.”

“Ah,” the poor boy blushed, feeling quite suddenly put on the spot as he answered, “I believe I saw her wandering into the garden, Your Majesty.”

The king could not hide a fond smile from flitting across his face in a brief moment of weakness, “I see, thank you,” he nodded at the boy, and the messenger was more than happy to excuse himself from Hyunjin’s presence. Finally left alone with the commander, Hyunjin turned to him smoothly, “Continuing our previous conversation, I will not enforce a toll between the borders of mine and the Queen’s kingdom. If you don’t have anything else to discuss, you are excused.”

Ah, it’s always the Queen, the Queen, the Queen. Minho thought it was nothing short of repulsive at how only the name of the woman would have his king turning over and showing his belly like an excited kitten. Gritting his teeth, he bowed, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

If this goes on any further, Minho might have to take matters into his own hands. But, for the moment, he didn’t need to get his hands dirty yet. A smile quirked up on his face as he mused about certain...possibilities. Maybe, with the coronation open to all, he wouldn’t even need to lift a finger. 

vii. 

To be honest, when Hyunjin was growing up, he had believed himself incapable of love. When his father had died early on in his life, he was raised by a mother that knew nothing but greed and a thirst for power. She controlled him like a puppet on strings, using her own son as a vessel for her own agendas. It had taken all of Hyunjin’s effort to finally break free from his mother’s clutches, and when he emerged into the world as a young king, he realized that he was well and truly destined to be alone.

But as he walked around the royal gardens, in search of his wife, his heart making a light skip at the mere prospect of seeing her, he wonder if this was what love was supposed to feel like. And as he stopped short, seeing the back of a familiar woman sitting on the bank of a small pond, her simple, yet elegant dress splayed out gracefully on the ground, he knew this was exactly what love was supposed to feel like.

Smiling to himself, the king walked over to you, shedding his uniform jacket and gently draping it over your small form, “Spending time with the bunnies again?”

You barely bat an eyelash as the familiar weight of Hyunjin’s coat fell upon your shoulders, holding onto it to keep warm as you smiled up at him, “Didn’t Commander Lee want to speak with you alone? What are you doing out here?” 

“The conversation was more trivial than I’d expected, so I cut it short,” Hyunjin waved off your worries, sitting down on the grass beside you. Suddenly to his right, two small, cream colored bunnies jump out from the bushes, bounding over to you, already familiar with your presence since you’ve spent much of your free time here. 

“Are you sure you should be making your displeasure so obvious? You know we rely on their military strength,” you spoke as you gently reached out to one of the bunnies, tickling its nose with your finger, a light frown on your face as you looked at Hyunjin. 

“I’ve made it very clear what I expect from them, and yet they keep disobeying me,” Hyunjin muttered, angrily ripping at the grass to vent his obvious frustrations.

As you studied Hyunjin’s face, you couldn’t help but sense that there was more to his anger at his commanders than he was letting on, “There’s something else, isn’t there?” you approached him cautiously. 

Hyunjin looked up at you, surprised, “What do you mean?” One of the bunnies hesitantly bounded over to him, and the king awkwardly pet them, trying his best to be gentle, especially after you’d given him a big scolding about being to aggressive with them a few weeks ago. 

“You’re not just angry because they question your policies,” you explained, your eyebrows furrowed in gentle concern, “I mean, I question you all the time, and we’ve only been married for a few weeks.”

The king couldn’t help but chuckle at that, “But it’s different when it’s you.”

“Why? Because we’re married?” you laughed at the sheer cheesiness of the statement, giggling as Hyunjin nuzzled his face into your shoulder playfully.

“What else could it be, darling?” the name fell out of his lips so naturally, he almost had to do a double take with how close he was to saying it like he genuinely meant it, and not just as a lighthearted joke between the two of you.

Instead of pushing him away, you smiled, reaching to gently ruffle his hair, “Don’t avoid the question,” you murmured softly, “what’s got you all worked up?”

Hyunjin debated for a moment before sighing. He could never refuse you of anything, “I don’t like how they treat you,” he said, his voice flat, “I don’t like the way they glower at you when they think you don’t notice, the way they keep trying to subtly tell me to find another wife.”

There was a moment of silence as you stated at him, almost dumbfounded. Then, to Hyunjin’s utter surprise, your lips curled into an amused smile, “That's it?”

Oh, the utter nerve of you! Hyunjin would feel offended if it weren't for the fact that he was angry for your sake in the first place, “That's it?” He repeated in disbelief, “Aren't you annoyed at all? They dislike you for no reason other than the fact that you're not one of them. Doesn't that make you even a little angry?”

“Why should it?” You merely shrugged your shoulders, smiling down at the bunny that was burrowing into your stomach for warmth, “Their twisted thinking is not my responsibility to change. If they're determined to hate me, no amount of money, fear or kindness will change that.”

It was quite amazing, seeing you so nonchalant. Hyunjin had done his best to help you adjust to the new customs, the colder weather, everything that might potentially pull you out of your comfort zone, but you took everything with such grace, such an aura of indifference. It almost turned him on every time he saw you brush off Minho’s jagged comments about your appearance, your background, your parent's crimes with a simple quip in return that would turn the commander's face a shade of deep red.

“You’re unreal,” The words fell off of Hyunjin’s lips before he could even process them. You're unreal? Hwang Hyunjin, you're supposed to be a notoriously smooth talker, a true diplomat!

The look on your face showed your surprise at his sudden comment as you asked almost worriedly, “What’s going on with you today?”

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin cleared his throat, desperate to salvage this rather awkward conversation. 

“Well, you seem more emotionally charged than normal,” you commented, “Did something happen?” A mischievous sparkle appeared in your eyes, “Someone catch your eye?”

“Of course. You.”

“Flattery won't make me go easy on you during our sparring practice,” you hummed absently, all of your attention devoted to the bunny in your lap as you tickled its nose with your gentle finger, cooing. 

Hyunjin couldn’t help but pout as his advances were all being brushed away, and he felt a little like a shy prince courting a lady for the first time. He glanced at the bunny with an expression akin to mild disdain, “You seem to play favorites, My Queen.”

You chuckled, lifting the small creature into your hands as it curiously sniffed at you, “Well, Sungie enjoys my company, too, more so than the others.” 

“Sungie?” Hyunjin repeated the name. He disliked it, mentally apologizing to whoever he’d meet in the future that had the unfortunate fate of being named Sungie. 

His blood boiled in a way that a petulant child’s would as he watched you giggle, pressing a light kiss to the bunny’s nose. Wonderful. Not only was this Sungie stealing your attention, he was stealing your kisses, too. When was the last time you kissed him?

Far too long ago.

Hyunjin sighed, and he gave up on his attempts to steal your attention, opting to tell you the more important news, “Your coronation is confirmed for next week.”

Your entire body froze, and you placed Sungie back into your lap, “That’s early,” you responded, and Hyunjin didn’t miss the thin layer of tension in your voice, the only sign that becoming the queen of two kingdoms was more daunting to you than you like to show, “I thought you said the nobles would never agree to it.”

“I think they grew tired of opposing you, since it’s so goddamn hard,” Hyunjin said, and your lips quirked into a wry smile, unconsciously driving him to do the same, “The head of staff gave me the normal list of the same, boring rich military men, but I told him to change it according to what we’d discussed.”

You didn’t speak for a long moment, your eyes drifting off into the distance as if thinking very carefully until his name fell out of your lips, “Hyunjin.”

“Yes?” The king tilted his head towards you inquisitively.

“Aren’t you tired of me telling you what to do?” You asked, meeting his gaze with an unreadable expression on your face, “You married me, the princess of a defeated kingdom, and I prance around making my own rules and then now uprooting your traditions. Aren’t you annoyed at least?”

Hyunjin only shrugged, “I didn’t chose you out of all people to be my queen just for you to stay silent,” he answered before letting out a fond chuckle, “And besides, you never tell me what to do. You just come in with a strong suggestion and we either argue about it civilly or we duel it out. That’s called council, and it’s exactly what you’re supposed to be doing.”

For the first time, you stared at Hyunjin in a new light. Was it just because of his words, or was your heart fluttering because of him? Hyunjin didn’t seem to notice how much his words meant to you, beginning to click his tongue sweetly at one of the nearby bunnies, petting their soft fur. Strange, he didn’t seem this attractive the few times he’d done this before. 

“Are you alright?” The man in your thoughts interrupted your daydreaming, “You’ve gone all quiet.”

You could only hope that the warmth on your cheeks didn’t show, “I’m alright,” you replied quickly, diverting your attention to Sungie, who had woken up, trying to burrow himself in your lap, “Just thinking about the coronation.”

“I see. Are you excited?”

“Excited?” You repeated with a chuckle, “I can’t say I’m dreading it, but would anyone be excited to carry the weight of two kingdoms on their shoulders?”

“Not everyone thinks about ruling in that way,” Hyunjin reasoned, reaching for one of the bunnies.

You shrugged, “Maybe, but I don’t want to treat my power like something I can carelessly wield--ah, not that aggressively!” Your eyes widened as you grabbed Hyunjin’s wrist when you noticed him reach for one of the bunnies without letting it come to him.

“Why? I was going slow!” Hyunjin spoke defensively, all of his senses heightened at the feeling of your small yet firm grip around his wrist. Cute, your hand didn’t even completely wrap around his. 

“Wait for him to come to you,” you instructed him, guiding his hand forward in the right movements to beckon some of the bunnies over to him. All your attention was diverted to helping him, and yet, Hyunjin could not take his eyes off your face, your perfect features, the kindness in your eyes, and those perfectly kissable lips.

He couldn’t wait until the day that a golden crown would adorn your hair, and you would sit in the throne beside him, a spot that no one else but you were worthy of. 

viii.

“Are you nervous?”

“Do you want me to lie to you and say that I’m not?” You replied from where you were standing in front of the full length mirror, Yeji and Ryujin putting on the last few accessories of your coronation dress. Per your request, the gown was bold, dark red chiffon falling to the ground with accents of gold plated metal on your shoulder plates. It was a statement, a statement that would tell Hyunjin’s kingdom that you were no prisoner, and a statement that would tell your own kingdom that you were still their princess in heart and soul.

Hyunjin leaned against the doorframe, watching you get ready and conversing with you. For a brief moment, you wondered if he’d sensed your nerves that morning, and had come to bother you only to get your mind off of the main event.

You stared at your own reflection, unwavering. But yet, the woman that stared back at you, the woman who was about to be crowned the queen of two powerful kingdoms, felt unfamiliar. This, this powerful woman, she didn’t feel like you. What good have you ever done with your power? What good will you ever do with your new power?

“Yeji, Ryujin, leave us,” Hyunjin suddenly spoke up, although not unkindly. The two handmaidens slipped their hands away from their work, having only to check the corset straps before they were done with you. 

When they left the room, you watched silently in the mirror as Hyunjin pushed off from the doorframe and made his way towards you. The king didn’t seem to be in a rush to speak either, and he took the corset straps delicately in his hands before securing the corset.

“I’m not ready,” Hyunjin said softly as he concentrated on his task, “That was the only thought running through my head on the day of my coronation.”

You didn’t speak, taking in the weight of his words, “I remember,” you answered softly, and as you watched Hyunjin’s brow furrow in concentration as he checked your corset, you couldn’t help but notice how intimate the moment was. “You were only fifteen when the former king passed away.”

“I was groomed for this role all my life,” Hyunjin hummed, slipping his finger into a few of the corset layers to loosen it just a little so you could breathe easier, “Ever since I was born, every waking moment was spent preparing me to be king, and yet, when I stood up there, I never felt more like an imposter than at that moment.”

It was surprising, hearing that Hyunjin, such a cool, levelheaded monarch even at his young age didn’t feel like he belonged on that throne, even though he of all people deserved to sit in it. You didn’t think that he did before, but after seeing him, spending every day supporting him, you realized that, beneath his disarming smile, his heart was gentle and he cared oh so much.

“My Queen,” your eyes widened as you felt Hyunjin take your hands in his, and you turned to face him, admiring the beautiful features that adorned his face. You could count his eyelashes, gazing into the plethora of hazel brown shades in his soft eyes, his soft, plump lips looking so kissable.

Hyunjin held your hands delicately, rubbing his thumbs against the back of them in an effort to soothe your worries, “You will be the most beloved Queen that the kingdom has ever had,” he murmured, “It might not be immediate, and it might not be in the next week, but there’s no one else that is worthy of the title.”

“When will I feel that way?” You swallowed as you looked into his eyes, letting your vulnerability show, “When will I ever feel that I’m ready?”

The king smiled at the question, squeezing your hands, “You won’t,” he said, an almost bitter taste to his words, “You will never stop second guessing yourself, no matter how long you wear that crown,” Hyunjin didn’t mince his words, knowing that you didn’t need shallow reassurance right now. You needed the truth.

“But, you can’t stop just because you don’t believe you’re ready,” he continued, reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, “Just know, you’re enough. You will always be enough.” 

Goddamnit, Hyunjin was making it very hard for you not to fall in love with him.

You took a deep breath, grounding yourself as you felt the tension leave your shoulders, “Feel better?” Hyunjin gave you an encouraging smile, seeing you that you looked more like your usual self.

“Much,” you smiled up at him, reaching a gentle hand up to brush a stray strand of hair away from his face. 

An hour later, you knelt before Hyunjin on the velvet carpet your head dipped down as the king recited the vows, the vows in which you were taking as the new queen. The pews were filled to the brim with people of all kinds, merchants, farmers, blacksmiths, maids, everyone eagerly trying to get a glimpse of you, your dress, your appearance. 

You repeated the vows, and with the dumb stroke of luck, your nerves refused to get the best of you, and you managed to go through the three-page long speech without any major slips. The crowd let out gasps of wonder as the crown, a marvelous artifact in itself with its gold base, its red rubies and diamond embellishments, was taken off its safe place on a red cushion. And with the gentlest of touches, Hyunjin slipped the crown atop your head as you looked down at the ground beneath his feet. As you lifted your head, you could’ve sworn Hyunjin had given you the most fleeting of winks, but you felt an ease flood through your jittery bones.

He stretched out his hand to you, gentle and inviting, and you slipped your hand in his, letting him help you up. Subconsciously, you held back the sudden urge to lean forward and press your lips against his. Unbeknownst to you, Hyunjin was restraining himself from doing just that.

As the two of you turned to face the adoring crowd, Hyunjin called out in a booming voice, “Long live the Queen!”

The sentiment carried on and on, echoing in the halls as you held Hyunjin’s hand tightly. You could feel the glower on the faces on the nobles, glaring at you with constrained hatred, but you could care less. The people wanted you, accepted you as their queen, and that was more than enough for you.

Smiling up at Hyunjin, feeling relief flood through your bones, the two of you were filled with glee as the cup bearer came out with the two glasses of wine to complete the ceremony, the unification of the king and queen.

“Want to give them something to remember?” Hyunjin murmured in your ear, taking his own glass.

“And how do we do that?” You smiled, raising the glass of red wine to him gracefully. 

The king’s eyes sparkled with a mischief that only appeared when he was truly happy, when he was utterly content, and one of his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you snug against him. The other, holding the wine glass in hand, looped around yours as the people began to clamor excitedly at the spectacle, “Like this, obviously.”

The close proximity made you blush, and you stared at Hyunjin, your heart pounding.

“What’s wrong?” He teased you, leaning closer, “Too shy?”

No, it wasn’t that, you thought as the two of you linked arms, getting ready to drink the wine together. All the moments your heart had fluttered, all the moments you felt as if time stood still whenever he held your hand, it all pieced together like a puzzle that was meant for only you to solve. 

Ah, you really did love Hwang Hyunjin. 

Tipping the glass upward, you caught sight of a small commotion in the pews behind Hyunjin. It sounded different from the excited squeals and gasps of the rest of the crowd at you and Hyunjin’s show of affection. It sounded almost like…

A man burst out from the seats, jumping over the rows as people screamed in terror and tried their best to get out of harms’ way. In that moment, you assumed he was here to attack you, especially with the manic look in his eyes and the razor sharp knife gripped in his hand. Hyunjin had warned you, after all, that not everyone in his kingdom was pleased that he’d married a princess from a foreign land they were at war with.

But he wasn’t aiming at you. He was aiming at Hyunjin.

Out of pure hatred and craze, he reached the two of you, slipping out of the guards’ grasp and advancing towards Hyunjin, his knife ready to sink into his heart. There wasn’t a moment left for hesitation, and in that split second, you lashed out, standing in front of Hyunjin and intercepted the knife with your hand. 

Time stood still as your own life blood trickled down your arm, the horrified gasps of the crowd became irrelevant, and you finally got a good look of who was trying to kill your husband. Your eyes widened, and from the distant past, you recognized the man. 

“Y/N!” Hyunjin’s voice broke you from your moment of epiphany, and you realized that the guards were already onto him, even as you gripped the knife harder, digging it further into your palm as the attacker struggled to pull it out.

“Wait,” you grit your teeth at the pain, glaring at the guards and tilting your head. Reluctantly, they pulled away from the man, obviously uncomfortable with the idea of watching this random person, this crazed attacker, hurt their newly crowned queen.

“Y/N--”

“I said, wait.”

Even Hyunjin froze at your tone, and the crowd died down, their earlier cries turning into conspiratorial whispers. What was the Queen doing? Has she gone mad? Is she ordering the King around?

Ignoring the commotion, the obvious stain that was now forming in your reputation, you looked the man straight in the eye and asked softly, “You’re...you’re one of my soldiers from the war, aren’t you?”

The man’s jaw went slack, utterly dumbfounded that his commander, and now his new queen had remembered him, a lowly foot soldier that lagged behind in the last regiments, “Your Majesty,” he stuttered over his own words. In his eyes, there was no anger left, only horror at what he had done, what he could’ve done, “I didn’t mean to--I only wanted some form of satisfaction.”

“I know,” you answered softly, loosening your grip on the knife as you noticed that his earlier resolve was crumbling. The man sank to his knees before you, and to the sheer horror of the noblemen in the crowd, you did the same for him, “I know. But this isn’t the way to achieve it.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Y-your Majesty--” At last, the man dropped the knife and you let go, allowing the bloodied weapon to clatter to the floor. You ignored the rest of the world, you ignored the blood flowing freely from your wound, and you leaned forward, murmuring the words that you always uttered to your soldiers before every battle.

“Do you trust me?”

The man hesitated for a moment before answering softly, but without doubt, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

You smiled, “Then I will rebuild our kingdom in a way that will make you proud. I swear it.”

Knowing that your job was done, you backed away, and the man allowed the guards to take him away without any resistance. Then, from your right, you could hear Minho snicker under his breath, covering their mouths with mock politeness, and your face burned.

“Some queen she is.”

Despite the walls that you put up to hide your fears, your anxieties, you were only human, and you avoided the gaze of the crowd, knowing what they must think. A lowly queen that would bow before her own subjects, make promises to them rather than keeping her head high and mighty. 

You didn’t regret what you did for a moment, but you knew how terrible this must look, and how awfully this might impact Hyunjin.

The sound of soft clapping made your ear twitch. Then, it grew louder, it grew into cheers, it grew into clamoring, until by the end, the hall was filled with the excited sounds of the people, drowning out the mocking laughter of the noblemen. You stared out into the crowd in dumbfounded awe as the roaring chant reverberated in your ears.

“Long live the Queen!”

ix.

“Ow!”

You let out a hiss of pain as you sat in your nightgown by the vanity, your injured hand outstretched so it could be treated properly.

Ryujin clicked her tongue in mild annoyance, “Hurts, right? Maybe you should remember that the next time you grab a blade with your bare hands!” She snapped as she dabbed at the cut with a purple salve that the doctor had given you.

Glancing at her, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly, “You get so mad when you’re worried.”

“Who says I’m worried?” Ryujin scoffed, but both of you knew she was playing a bluff. Of course she worried, she worried the most out of all of your handmaidens, only hiding it with her brash attitude.

A soft creak of the door alerted the both of you, and Ryujin was halfway out of her seat already to berate whoever was walking in without knocking when she froze, immediately dipping her head respectfully as Hyunjin stepped into the room. 

You averted your eyes instantly, finding some very intricate patterns on the marbled floor as you refused to look at him. Hyunjin was the only person you haven’t spoken to since the coronation early that day, and there was no way he wouldn’t be angry. 

Hyunjin raised a brow, noting your actions the moment he walked in. If there was one thing you always did, even since the first meeting, it was to look straight into his eyes. You were probably the first to do it with such vigor, staring back at him as if practically daring him to challenge you. It was hard not to notice when you suddenly began to look away.

“Ryujin, please fetch us some tea, if you will,” Hyunjin spoke lightly as he walked over to the vanity, standing beside the two of you. 

Your maid glanced at you, and you gave her a weak smile, lifting your unharmed hand to rest on hers, “It’s alright. I can finish bandaging it, really.”

“Fine,” Ryujin stood up after a moment, brushing off her dress, “you better do it right. Don’t forget that time you refused to clean the cut on your leg after sword practice and the doctor threatened to chop your limb off when it got all gross and infected,” you could only stare at her back, utterly betrayed as she skipped off to do as the king commanded.

As the door shut behind her, you were hyper aware that it was only you and Hyunjin in the room, and the silence was more torturous than anything you’d ever experienced. Keeping your head down, you heard as Hyunjin took Ryujin’s earlier seat.

“Here,” you flinched a little as you saw his hand outstretched, his palm facing upwards.

“I’m...sorry…?”

“Your hand, please,” Hyunjin sighed, wanting more than anything to take your hand himself and bandage it as tightly as possible, but he’d wait. He’d always wait.

Hesitantly, you extended your hand, resting it on his with your palm facing up, giving him a clear view of the rather ghastly cut, which went deeper than he’d assumed earlier. With delicate fingers, he scooped up a dollop of the salve before gently applying it. You immediately recoiled at the sting, but Hyunjin gripped your hand tightly.

“Keep still,” he said firmly, focusing all his attention on treating your cut. You glanced at the way his fingers gently pressed against your palm, the way he handled you with such care, care that you’ve never experienced before, and slowly, the guilt the coiled in your stomach began to crawl up and out of your throat.

“Hyunjin, I’m--”

“Why did you do that?”

His voice was tight as he interrupted you, reaching over to the vanity table and grabbing the roll of gauze while he waited for your answer. You didn’t speak for a long moment because--if you were being completely honest--you weren’t sure what came over you at that moment.

“He was a soldier in my army during the war,” you explained cautiously as Hyunjin began to wrap the bandages around your hand, “He was obviously more desperate than malicious, and–”

“That’s not what I meant,” Hyunjin’s patience finally snapped as he tied the bandage tightly, causing you to let out a wince. You finally looked at his face out of confusion, and he gripped your wrist, holding up your injured hand. 

“Why did you do this?” He clenched his jaw as everything that he'd bottled inside since the coronation spilled out of his lips, and he stared into your eyes with such an intensity, it felt as if you were being consumed by his desperation, “The blade could've been rusted, poisoned, anything! What if you ended up having to amputate your whole hand just because of this? What if you died? Did you even think about yourself for a moment?”

“I didn't,” you said softly, squeezing your eyes shut as you confessed, “I wasn't thinking about myself at all, alright?” 

Hyunjin looked taken aback, “Then what were you thinking?” He asked, his voice still hard as he clutched your hand in his, “What on earth were you thinking about that could possibly make you risk your own life--”

“I was thinking about you!” You finally blurt out, looking down at your lap, too ashamed to even look him in the eye as your voice grew weak, “All I could think about was you, you getting hurt, and I realized that I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

A tense silence filled the room as you waited for Hyunjin to snap, to scoff at your weakness, to realize that you weren’t as strong as he once imagined you to be.

Your eyes widened when you felt gentle fingers tilt up your chin, guiding you to look up at Hyunjin. To your surprise, he looked almost pained as he shifted closer to you, his thumb brushing your cheek as he whispered, “Don’t say that.”

Confused, you let Hyunjin caress your soft cheeks, seeing that he looked almost desperate to touch you, “Say what?” You probed gently, reaching to rest your fingers on the back of his hand.

“That you don’t want to lose me. Don’t say things that m-make me think you love me,” Hyunjin’s voice sounded so utterly weak, and he studied your face as if you were the most previous jewel in the world. Did he always stare at you like that?

You swallowed nervously before asking softly, “What if I do love you?”

The reaction was instantaneous. Hyunjin closed the distance between your lips, smashing his against yours with so much emotion and desire that you were almost dizzy. He rested his hand on the nape of your neck, gently brushing your soft locks off of your shoulder as he deepened the kiss. This time, there wasn’t an ounce of resistance in your body. All you wanted to do was to let him in, let him sweep you off your feet and hold you close.

Hyunjin shifted, slipping an arm around your waist, and he easily lifted you in his arms, carrying you to the bed without once pulling away from the intoxicating feeling of your soft lips. Oh, how he missed them, how he’d dreamed of them for nights on end, not one dream as perfect as the reality. 

“I love you,” he murmured as his lips trailed down from your cheeks to your jaw and all the way to the soft skin of your neck, “I loved you for so long.”

Even in your blissful state, you managed to grasp the meaning of his words and you choked out between his frantic kisses, “H-how long?”

“Since the wedding, I’ve known that you were going to my one and only, my one true love,” Hyunjin said softly before pulling away. He gazed down at your state, both of your hands on either side of your head, your hair fanned out on the pillow beneath you. You looked like a goddess, and he’d spend every night thanking the gods that you were his.

“I never thought--I never even imagined,” Hyunjin rambled on as he dived for your neck, sucking gently as you let out a soft noise at the sensation. It almost drove him mad, “I never even dreamed that you would say yes, much less accept me at all--”

“It’s true,” you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut as your fingers reached up, carding gently through his hair, “It didn’t happen overnight, but now I realize. I love you.”

Hyunjin let out a groan at your words as they resonated in his heart, causing it to pound uncontrollably. He pulled away just for moment, his lips hovering over yours as his hands trailed down your sides cautiously, “I love you too, my Queen. So much,” he said, pecking your lips. 

You couldn’t help but smile, chuckling softly as you looked up at him, “Your Queen,” you repeated the title, finding that you loved it very much.

“Well, you are,” Hyunjin smiled in return, brushing a strand of hair away from your face before leaning down again, pressing his lips again yours as he mumbled, “my beautiful queen. The love of my life.”

Blushing, you threaded your fingers through his hair as he deepened the kiss, sucking and nibbling at your lips, causing you to giggle. Nothing felt rushed, nothing felt like one side was trying quickly to quench their desperation. It was just love, contentment, the purest form of peace.

Eventually, Hyunjin’s hands made it down to your legs, ghosting over your skin as he slipped a hand under your nightgown, freezing as he made it to your upper thigh, “Tell me if you want to stop,” he whispered, pecking your cheek. 

You stared up at him, full of love and adoration as you brushed his long black hair away from his face, “I don’t ever want you to stop,” you replied with a gentle smile, and Hyunjin never denied you of anything. He dipped down, his hands playing with the hem of your gown as the two of you finally surrendered to each other, letting the world slip away until the only thing that mattered to you was Hyunjin, and the only thing that mattered to Hyunjin was you. Always you.

Ryujin never came back with your tea, having decided to leave the two of you alone when she’d first turned into the corridor. A smug smile curled on her face, and she rushed off to tell the other handmaidens that they owe her ten gold coins.

epilogue.

You were awoken with gentle lips caressing your cheek, fingers lightly dancing over your bare waist. Mumbling softly, your eyes fluttered open and your gaze fell upon Hwang Hyunjin, who was resting on his elbow as he looked down at your previously sleeping figure with nothing but pure love in his expression. 

“Morning,” you smiled sleepily, giggling as Hyunjin leaned down, nuzzling his face against your cheek. 

“Sleep well?” He asked, his voice scratchy from just waking up. Even so, he couldn’t seem to get enough of you, running his hand up and down your side as his lips trailed from your own lips to your cheeks to your neck.

You hummed in response, playing lightly with his hair as you looked at the sunlight spilling into the window, signaling a new day, “I don’t think we did a lot of sleep, though,” you commented, smiling when Hyunjin pulled away, pouting at you.

“Can’t you let me be romantic just once?” He whined a little as he kissed down your body, kissing your shoulder, your collarbones, your chest, trailing down until he stopped at the soft skin of your tummy.

You giggled as he paused, squirming as he drew circles with his fingers on the skin before pressing a long, gentle kiss to it, “Mm...I hope you’re pregnant…”

“Hyunjin!”

“What?” Hyunjin laughed as he dodged your light swats of indignance, crawling back up to pull you into his chest, “We’d have our little heir, and it would get those good for nothing nobles off your back,” his voice held more bite as his jaw clenched.

You placed a hand on his chest, drawing soothing circles, “Don’t worry about them,” you murmured softly, looking up into Hyunjin’s eyes, “Just for today, just this once, let’s not worry about them at all.”

Hyunjin smiled, pulling you closer as his lips brushed yours.

“I don’t have a problem with that at all.”

fin.

~

a/n: a sincere thank you to anyone who made it this far ;;_;;

[pastelsandpining]

we’ll meet again

a rewriting to the ending of Ocarina of Time

words: 2347

warnings: angst. a lot of angst. read with caution

Masterlist

When the mangled body of the hog-like monster finally grows still, the sacred sword still hilt-deep in the crumpled corpse, Link knows then that it’s over. The years of sorrow, the loneliness of travel, everything that came with the heavy weight of pulling the world from the clutches of evil, is over. He withdraws the sword, but it takes an effort he didn’t think he had left. It’s heavier--or maybe it’s his limbs that are heavy, too exhausted to carry on any further. Adrenaline is a thing of the past and he takes two steps forward before his foot catches on a bit of loose debris. The Master Sword, his tool of time and of protection, slips to the soiled ground with a clang, and he’s following it. Part of him, the part too used to victories never meaning an end, expected the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

The only thing that wraps around him, catching him from hitting the rocky ground still levitating above the chasm of chaos, is a sea of gentle pink and purple tones. The touch is feather soft and strong enough to ground him all at once, and no longer is the world spinning, or burning in a sea of despair. It’s a comfort he hasn’t known since Saria—over seven years ago, but it feels like so much longer that he’s been craving it.

“Princess,” he greets in a hoarse, broken whisper. It’s swallowed by the fabric of her dress.

“Oh, Link,” she says, and it’s enough to make him lean his head against her chest. When her face finds his shoulder and he feels the warmth of her exhale on his neck, he chokes out a sob and digs his filthy, glove-covered fingers into the satin of the dress covering her back. He isn’t worthy of her touch or her comfort, but he’s too brokenly grateful to let her go.

Seven years of nothing and a mere two of shadow, of death and destruction and desolation, comes to an end, a result of nothing more than a man given too much power to handle, and Link does not feel the relief or the lifted weight that one would expect. All he feels is the suffocating fear that the body would move again, or that the crystal would encase her, and he would find himself stuck in a never ending cycle of heroic trauma.

But the arms of the princess are steady and she whispers another phrase, two of the simplest words that bear a heavy importance: “Thank you.”

He wonders what bit of her magic is responsible for how she still smells so good after running down several swirling cliffs and through burning, stuffy rooms. A vague realization hit him that he must smell awful, but he supposes it doesn’t matter when the world has been ending for the past nine years. His fingers are stiff when he tries to move them. He doesn't realize just how tightly he’s been holding onto her, or how hard they’re both shaking. He flattens his hands against her back, inhales her scent, loosens his arms, and relaxes his shoulders. His leg still stings from where Ganon’s blade had caught him, but it’s dull and doesn’t matter right now.

When he finds the strength to lift his head, everything around him is blue.

It’s a stark contrast to the dark skies that plagued Hyrule for months. It’s so different from the moody interior of blackstone walls and towering mirrors with grotesque mosaics of thirst and power. It’s too bright for his eyes, even if all he wants to look at is her. They’re still kneeling on the ground, except there’s nothing visible beneath them. Blue skies and cotton clouds stretch as far as he can see. The Master Sword is still there, telling him whatever’s holding them up is solid enough, and he reaches blindly for it when he finally retracts his arms. He drives the tip into the transparent (or maybe, reflective) ground and hauls himself up with a wince. It takes a minute for the spinning to stop. When he’s steady again, he extends a hand to her.

She takes it, gentle and promising, and Link helps Princess Zelda to her feet.

“Where…” he tries to ask, but her eyes soften and he no longer has a voice.

“Nowhere,” she replies. He feels her hold on his hand tighten. “We’re in a moment between time, a space away from Hyrule. I figured you, of all people, deserve an explanation.”

For all of his senseless meddling with time, he understood none of what she’d said. Thinking about it gave him a headache, so he didn’t. But why would he need an explanation?

“There’s no explanation worth saying,” he says, shaking his head.

“People go to great lengths when they have been wronged. You are one of them. I was so young, too naive to know what would happen. It was my plan that put you through so much and for that, I’m sorry.”

She looks so sad. It claws into his heart and tries to pull it out. Link shakes his head again, more desperately, and covers her hand with his.

“It’s an honor to help you, Princess,” he argues, as if he could make her forgive herself through the sheer force of will. “I would do it again and again.”

“Because you are kind and courageous. It’s in your blood, to be a hero.”

To be her hero, which was something he couldn’t say aloud.

“I feel empty,” he admits into the stretch of silence. “What happens now that it’s over?”

Because stories are not real. Stories that end with a suddenly happy life, like there was never any threat at all, never sit right with him. What’s a hero’s purpose once the villain is defeated? Princess Zelda, in all of her wisdom and power, is the only person who could answer that.

“What do you want to happen?” she asks.

Link frowns. If he’s honest, he’s never expected an ending. Logically, he knows he couldn’t go on forever. Either he would succeed or he would die trying, but it lasted for so long that the idea of a life after the war was nothing more than a fantasy. Now, with the prospect in front of him and just out of reach, he doesn’t know what he wants. He thinks of the forest, of Saria and of his friends, and knows that having it back is not an option. Even if it was, he knows it wouldn’t be the same.

He thinks about the contrast between the past and the present. He thinks about the lively people and colors and animals that once filled Castle Town to the brim, and the ghost town inhabited only by reanimated corpses that it’d become. He thinks of the civilizations he’s met—the Gorons, the Zora, and how devastated they were destined to be. He thinks of the woman in front of him, the princess with which this all started, and believes that she does not deserve to bear the burden of destruction alone.

He also doesn’t think he’s been asked that before. It’s always been, you must do this, and so he doesn’t know what it is that he wants.

“Is peace an option?” he asks, because he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to quiet the chaos in his head.

“That’s a complicated question,” Princess Zelda replies. Her hands slip from his and he aches with the urge to take them again. “Can you have peace without conflict? Are they really so easy to seperate? Hyrule was peaceful because a civil war brought about chaos. This moment in time is peaceful because you’ve laid to rest a terrible evil. I wish I could grant you what you seek.”

He wants to shrug, brush off her words like there was nothing profound or truthful behind them, but for all his courage, not even he could disrespect the princess. She does not deserve that. Instead, he asks,

“What do you want, Princess?”

Her reply comes fast, with a small and pained smile, “I’m afraid what I want isn’t something you can give me, Hero.”

He doesn’t like that title, Hero. Why can’t he be Link, nothing more, nothing less? For the same reason she can’t simply be Zelda, he supposes, and leaves it there with a frown.

“Is it that bad?” he asks. She shakes her head.

“I want, more than anything, for my people to be spared the suffering that Ganondorf-- that I have put them through. I want to undo my mistake, take back my meddling in something I was too young to understand. I want to restore everything that was, before the world ended.”

It’s a bold desire. Link understands where she’s coming from, because it was easier before the world ended. Back when his only struggle was wondering why he didn’t have a fairy like the rest of the Kokiri children. With all the power that Princess Zelda had, surely it was not impossible.

“You could go back to before,” he suggests, gripping the sword a little tighter.

“I could,” she agrees, “but I would leave so much behind.”

Link furrows his brows and takes a look at their surroundings. What would she be leaving behind? Did she not lose her entire kingdom? There must’ve been something he was missing, something he couldn’t see.

“I don’t understand,” he admits at last, turning his gaze to the Master Sword. “What’s left to lose?”

When he looks back up, Princess Zelda’s eyes are wet. He frowns again, wishing there was any sort of comfort he could offer her.

“I would lose you,” she says, and he feels his heart stop in his chest, “and the friendship we’ve built, and the lessons I’ve learned. Neither are worth giving up. It’s a difficult decision I don’t know how to make.”

Link doesn’t know what to say, so he extends a hand to her in a gesture he can only hope will provide some sort of comfort. When she takes it, he averts his eyes and busies himself looking around at what he could see of the ruined kingdom. He can’t pretend to know how she feels. Right now, he has nothing but her to keep him going. He’s outgrown his friends, his purpose has been fulfilled, what more is there for him to do? He could support Princess Zelda in whatever decision she makes, but even so, what could he do for her, really? Perhaps if there was any remnant of the kingdom that wasn’t fractured, they could rebuild, but at what cost? The expense of exhaustion and of the resources they didn’t have was too great. He knows nothing about governing, or anything else he might be required to do if he stayed with her--and gods, did he want to stay.

For her, he doesn’t think it’s much of a sacrifice at all. A kingdom of thousands of people is worth more than one lowly man. He does not know how to read. It was a silly thing, to be as old as him and not know how to do one of the simplest things. Navi’s done it for him for as long as she’s been around, and he doesn’t think someone who can’t read or write would make for a good companion in a time of need. He can be taught, but the time it would take simply wasn’t worth it.

He brings her gloved hand to his mouth, offers a kiss to her knuckles, and before he knows it, he’s pressing the Ocarina of Time into her hands.

“Your kingdom,” he says, “it needs you.”

“Link,” and she shakes her head and sounds broken but he presses further.

“You’re brilliant and just, and you deserve your fair reign over your people. Please, Princess, you deserve something for yourself.”

“Is a lifelong companion not good enough?” she asks. He feels her grip on the instrument tighten beneath his fingers.

“No. You have the chance to undo it all. Why settle with the cards you’ve been given?”

“I..”

She doesn’t look sure. Link has to admit that the idea is scary. Resetting the timeline was… difficult. It would undo everything he’s done up until now, reducing it to nothing more than a few years of bad dreams, and that idea made him feel sick. The possibility of never knowing her scared him more.

“We can get back what we lost,” he tries to convince her anyway. “You didn’t get to be a child.”

“Neither did you,” she argues, stepping closer. “Why should I get what you never had?”

“Then make it so we both get it.”

Her blue eyes narrow as she looks up at him. He doesn’t back down. The silence is pregnant and her gaze is intense, but he knows what he wants and it’s for her to get the chance she deserves. Backing down is not an option, no matter how much he wants to tell her that she can have whatever she wants from him.

“Link,” she says at last, freeing her hands so she could hold the ocarina to her chest. He thinks she wants to say something else, but she settles for, “Are you sure?” and he nods quickly, despite the tears he can feel stinging in his eyes.

“Go home,” he insists, lifting a hand to gently hold her face, “and I promise I’ll come find you.”

She smiles up at him, mumbling something about keeping the promise, and all he can do is smile back. When she lifts the ocarina to her mouth, Link decides simply to watch her until the arms of time take him back, away from her again but not for long.

When he comes to, in the Temple of Time, with the sword in the pedestal and his hands too small to hold it properly, that’s when Navi takes her leave. Link, renewed with the vigor of youth, turns around and runs towards the castle, as fast as his little legs can carry him.

[lavellander]

hello im feeling extra “touch the stove”-y today so. i was looking for any dialogue where solas just straight up lies and (of what i could find online/transcribed, obv) i didnt find anything that was 100% untrue. he’ll completely avoid the question, change the subject, give part of the truth, etc etc etc, but nothing was just Entirely A Lie

what really gets me is that there’s a handful of convos where someone infers something from what solas says, and he will even point out that he didn’t directly say that. like, he tells people how to see through his shit, lmao

here is an embarrassingly long ass list of examples, all sorted by what kind of not-lying he’s doing lol, just bc i am unhinged<3

*note that some of these are cut from longer bits of dialogue or have been split up from one conversation into different categories*

literally just Not Answering The Question lol

Dorian: How much “will” do they have? They’re amorphous constructs of the Fade. Solas: Hmm.

Dorian: Solas, have I offended you? Solas: If you have, why would it concern you?

Dorian: Solas, what is this whole look of yours about? Solas: I’m sorry? Dorian: No, that outfit is sorry. What are you supposed to be, some kind of woodsman? Dorian: Is it a Dalish thing? Don’t you dislike the Dalish? Or is it some kind of statement? Solas: No.

Dorian: Let me get this straight, Solas. Dorian: You’re an apostate – neither Dalish nor city elf – who lived alone in the woods studying spirits. Solas: Is that a problem for you?

Solas: [has a whole tactical moment about the red jennies lmao] Sera: Where d’you get all this, then? Solas: Do you wish to be unnerved by another tale of my explorations of the Fade? Or do you wish to learn something?

Vivienne: You must be pleased with what was revealed at the Temple of Mythal, Solas. Solas: Why should those ruins please me, Enchanter?

changing the subject before he backs himself into a corner

Gatt: I don’t see any tattoos, but you’re carrying a staff. Are you from a Chantry Circle? Solas: No. And I would prefer not to discuss it.

Solas: I find the fall of the dwarven lands confusing. Varric: What’s so confusing about endless darkspawn? Solas: A great deal, although that is a different matter.

giving the truth, but not the whole truth

Blackwall: Skyhold. How did you find it? Solas: I looked. Blackwall: Now you sound like Cole. You looked? Solas: This world is full of wonders for those who seek them.

Blackwall: You spoke of seeing death and destruction. Did you fight in a war? Solas: There are struggles across Thedas at any given time. I doubt you would have heard of it. Blackwall: An elven skirmish? Solas: In a manner of speaking, yes.

Cassandra: Solas, have you always lived alone? Out in the wilderness, as an apostate? Solas: For the most part.

Cassandra: Have you ever encountered templars before? Solas: Only at a distance. I am an apostate, after all. Cassandra: And they never caught you even once? Solas: I am a very careful apostate.

Dorian: We found elves, living ancient elves, at the Temple of Mythal. Does that bother you, Solas? If Inquisitor allied with the Sentinels: Solas: I am pleased we were not forced to kill them, if that’s what you mean.

Iron Bull: You’ve got an odd style, Solas. Your spells are a bit different from the Circle mages or the Vints. Solas: That comes from being self-taught. Solas: I discovered most of my magic on my own, or learned it from my journeys in the Fade.

Vivienne: So, an apostate? Solas: That is correct, Enchanter. I did not train in your Circle.

Solas: You are a man who made a choice... possibly the first of your life. Iron Bull: I’ve always liked fighting. What if I turn savage, like the other Tal-Vashoth? Solas: You have the Inquisition, you have the Inquisitor... and you have me.

from cutscene at beginning Inquisitor: [mentions the anchor closing a rift] Solas: Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake – and it seems I was correct.

from cutscene at beginning Solas: [to a Dalish Inq] You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here? Inquisitor: What do you know of the Dalish? Solas: I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion. Inquisitor: [Crossed paths? dialogue choice] Solas: I mean that I offered to share knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition.

from “I’d like to know more about you” convo in Haven Inquisitor: What made you start studying the Fade? Solas: I grew up in a village to the north. There was little to interest a young man, especially one gifted with magic. But as I slept, spirits of the Fade showed me glimpses of wonders I had never imagined. I treasured my dreams. Being awake, out of the Fade, became troublesome.

actually telling the truth but no one picks up on the gravity of it

Solas: [...] I believe the elven gods existed, as did the old gods of Tevinter. But I do not think any of them were gods, unless you expand the definition of the word to the point of absurdity. I appreciate the idea of your Maker, a god that does not need to prove his power. I wish more such gods felt the same. Cassandra: You have seen much sadness in your journeys, Solas. Following the Maker might offer some hope. Solas: I have people, Seeker. The greatest triumphs and tragedies this world has known can all be traced to people.

Cole: No, inside. I don’t hear your hurt as much. Your song is softer, subtler, not silent but still. Solas: How small the pain of one man seems when weighted against the endless depths of memory, of feeling, of existence. That ocean carries everyone. And those of us who learn to see its currents move through life with their fewer ripples.

Cole: You didn’t do it to be right. You did it to save them. Inquisitor: Solas, what is Cole talking about? Solas: A mistake. One of many made by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything.

Solas: Empires rise and fall. Arlathan was no more “innocent” than your own Tevinter in its time. Solas: Your nostalgia for the ancient elves, however romanticized, is pointless.

Solas: Our people used to be here. Sera: Pfft, you say that everywhere. Solas: It is more true than you want to believe.

Vivienne: You must be pleased, apostate. With the Templars dissolved, your rebels will be most difficult to pacify. Solas: My rebels? Am I an agent for their cause, whispering poison into the Inquisition’s ears? Solas: How comforting. Vivienne: You enjoy seeing yourself as a villain? Solas: No more than any other clever man who wonders what he could do if pushed.

Vivienne: [about the Temple of Mythal] Now you know the elves were once a mighty nation. Solas: I always knew, Enchanter. The Temple of Mythal is just another reminder of what was lost.

(in the Emerald Graves): These forests have changed much since I was last here.

during the Fade!Haven cutscene Solas: It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture... and right then, I felt the whole world change. Inquisitor: [romance option] “Felt the whole world change?” Solas: A figure of speech. Inquisitor: I’m aware of the metaphor. I’m more interested in felt. Solas: You change... everything.

pointing out that people assume he means things he did not directly say

Cole: There is pain though, still within you. Solas: And I never said there was not.

Solas: You may well become fully human, after all. I never thought to see it. Cole: When did you see it before? Solas: I did not say that I had.

Iron Bull: We’ve got the alliance with my people. Given how much you love the Qun, I figured... Solas: I might scold you? Berate you for your decisions? Iron Bull: Hey. The Chargers died as heroes for the good of the mission. Solas: I never said otherwise.

Sera: Don’t you start. Solas: I’m reasonably certain I said nothing.

Vivienne: [talking shit about grey warden mages] Solas: I never claimed mages should be above the law, Enchanter. Vivienne: No, darling. You merely implied it, while offering no viable suggestions for improvement.

after infamous “side benefits” dialogue Warrior Inquisitor: You find my muscles enjoyable? Solas: I meant that you enjoyed having them, presumably. Warrior Inquisitor: Ah. Solas: But yes... since you asked.

diminishing things he does actually know by saying he he “believes” or “thinks,” or that things were vaguely “said” or “told”

Solas: I say what I believe to be true, even if it gives offense to those who prefer the lie.

Dorian: That orb Corypheus carries... are you certain it’s of elven origin, Solas? Solas: I believe so. Why do you ask?

Solas: It is said that we lived at a pace that sustained us for... ages.

making it sound like he’s talking about something/someone else, but it’s just him lmao

Cole: Do you know a lot about wolves? Solas: I know that they are intelligent, practical creatures that small-minded fools think of as terrible beasts.

Solas: No man can kill so many people without breaking inside. To survive... those you fight must become monsters. Iron Bull: The ones that kill innocent people, yeah. The rest... I don’t know. Solas: The mind does marvelous things to protect itself.

during In Hushed Whispers Inquisitor: I’m glad you understood what he just said because I’m not sure I did. Solas: You would think such understanding would stop me from making such terrible mistakes. You would be wrong.

misc

this one i wanted to include because it’s the only circumstance (that i came across) where someone directly asks solas to lie and he literally says he can’t

during the fucking crestwood breakup scene Inquisitor: [angry option] Tell me you don’t care. Solas: I can’t do that. Inquisitor: Tell me I was some casual dalliance so I can call you a cold-hearted son of a bitch and move on! Solas: I’m sorry.

*also note that most of these are banter transcriptions from the wiki; some are cutscene / other dialogue posted by either @/daitranscripts or u/karinini on reddit; it’s not all his cutscenes obv, but I’m not about to look up every single one individually sdlkfj*

[phantomwarrior12]

Sweet Beginnings (Chapter 1)

It's subtle at first - or at least, he thinks he's subtle in the way his eyes follow her movements in the field. He tells himself there is no purpose beyond mere observation - that it's intended for the sole purpose of mimicking the elaborate finishers, the pinpoint accurate knife throwing, the efficient executions. And yet, he's all too aware of this nagging sentimental edge in the back of his mind. He knows he cannot let it affect his objectives. After all, he is far from her skill level and in attempting these combat tactics, he's ended up on his ass more times than he cares to count and the observation is necessary.

In all his failings, he's come to find that she's surprisingly kind for a Guardian.

While his prowess leaves much to be desired, she assures him that he is still learning and that he will be fine. He is, after all, a New Light - it's what she calls him - or rather, her Ghost calls him - and he's decided he quite likes the term. Before he met her, most Guardians he met were...unkind, to say the least and at most, downright violent when they saw his face. So when they first met, he was apprehensive. He saw that same ironclad rage barely contained beyond the veil of her helmet. But then something changed - she relaxed. Almost like she realized that he was no longer whatever monster he'd once been. Perhaps that's why he likes the term - he's a New Light. A new person. A better  person, or at least, that's what Glint likes to tell him. But he doesn't pry at the Young Wolf. She seems...cautious. Careful and deliberate in what information she's willing to grant him, though he has yet to hear her speak let alone see her face.

Had she known him? Before all of this?

It plagues him and yet, he knows he dare not ask. He doesn't want to know who he was - especially not if it means losing her.

She is so many things and all of which, he's come to admire and adore.

Her patience, specifically, astounds him. In the last few months, he's managed to talk her into training him. Weekly sparring matches beyond the watchful eye of the Spider where the only witnesses are their ghosts.  It's private - intimate - almost in a way he can't quite describe.

Glint likes to heckle him after each match and the Crow always smiles to himself. His little Light grounds him like no other and it's his ghost's voice that brings him back to the present now,  his eyes coming back into focus on the beams above him.

"You do care about her, don't you?" The ghost asks softly as he settles on Crow's chest. The Hunter lays on his cot, one arm propped behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling.

"I think so." He murmurs, looking down at the little Light-bearer, "She's...unlike anyone I've ever met before."

"You should tell her how you feel."

"I can't."

Glint shifts ever so slightly, tilting to the side, "Why not?"

"Because--" he starts to raise his voice above a whisper but one glance towards the doorway softens his tone, "Because she wouldn't be interested in an enforcer."

"But you're a Guardian, too, Crow."

"It doesn't matter." He starts to sit up and Glint alights from his chest, hovering near his face as the Hunter swings his feet onto the floor. "In all the ways that matter, we are incompatible."

"You don't know that for certain," Glint descends and holds a few feet away from his Guardian's face, "You like her, right?"

Crow hesitates before he nods cautiously.

"Then what's the worst that can happen? If she doesn't feel the same way, it's water under the Traveler."

A small smile tugs at the corner of Crow's mouth and he gently pats the top of Glint's shell, "I appreciate the sentiment, my friend, but--" the faint footsteps that echo down the corridor catch his attention and he falls silent, straining to listen.

"Ah! Guardian! My friend! Good to see you." Spider's voice echoes and Crow relaxes, his smile returning as he settles back against the wall behind his cot.

There is no sound from her, the Young Wolf never speaks after all and in all their time together, he wonders if she ever will.

"Come to request a favor? Or to drag my enforcer off for another escapade?"

Crow tries to force himself to stay on the cot. He really tries. But it's her. She's here and he longs to see her. It's enough that he pushes up from the dated cot and paces towards his workbench, trying to decide how best to look busy.

"Nothing to say, huh? Very well. He's holed up down the hall. Be careful, Guardian, he's moody today."

"Moody." Glint scoffs indignantly.

"Glint, it's alright," Crow assures him softly and the Ghost relaxes when he sees the smile on his Guardian's face. Both gazes dart to the door when the quiet clump of the boots stop.

Fully armored and silent as ever, the Young Wolf gives a small, friendly wave.

Crow tries to contain the warmth that floods his veins, the silent relief that washes over his features, the tension that drains from his frame.

He had needed to see her today. How did she always know when he needed her the most?

It's only after a subtle bump from Glint against his shoulder that he snaps to, flustered and scrambling all at once to greet her, "Hello, Guardian...I-I didn't know you were stopping by today."

"Smoothe," Glint shakes from side to side and Crow gives him a pointed look before shifting his gaze back to the Young Wolf.

One of her shoulders raise in a half-hearted shrug as her head tilts. It's so damned adorable and he fights back the stupid grin. But then he realizes for the first time - one of her hands hasn't emerged from behind her back. For a moment, there's a flash of apprehension and fear in his eyes, looking from the arm to the Wolf's emotionless helmet.

Had he missed something? Done something? Was she just like all the others--

He hadn't seen her move. His mind had been in such a whirlwind, he'd missed her stepping up to him and laying a gloved hand lightly on his shoulder, head tilted as if in concern. It grounds him. Gives him the assurance that he is safe and she isn't going to hurt him.

Her grip tightens, dragging his gaze to where her eyes would be beyond the visor. She'd stepped closer and his breath hitches for a fraction of a second.

"I'm alright," he manage at last, smiling down at her softly. "It's...just been a long day."

She nods slowly, her hand falling away from his shoulder before gesturing to his cot.

He lingers for a moment, aching for her touch before he takes a seat, staring up at her curiously.

She gestures for him to close his eyes and he quirks an eyebrow before doing as he's ordered. He hears the rustle of her cloak and he stiffens when her hand lightly grips his wrist. She seems to notice as her thumb brushes over the small patch of exposed skin between his sleeve and his glove and he relaxes. The Young Wolf gingerly rotates his hand so its palm up before there's something warm and box-shaped placed in the palm of his hand.

She pulls back and Ghost speaks for her. "You can open them! Happy Dawning!"

Crow slowly opens his eyes, looking down at the neatly wrapped package in his hand. The sweet scent of butterscotch fills the room as he undoes the ribbon and he smiles at the stack of cookies.

"Thank you--"

"Don't thank us yet! How do they taste?"  Ghost floats closer excitedly.

Crow picks one up cautiously. It feels as though it's going to simultaneously crumble in his hand and perhaps deal enough damage to an Ogre to kill it in one hit. How she'd managed to get that consistency, he dares not ask. He carefully takes a bite, his initial conclusion of the cookie crumbling being the most correct and it falls apart in his mouth.

It-it's not good, but her hands are clasped under her chin and he can read the anxious excitement in every inch of her frame. He swallows slowly, giving his best convincing smile to veil his disgust.

"So? How is it?" Ghost presses.

"Delicious," Crow assures her and she does a little dance.

For being an Old Light, she has the soul of a child - and the mannerisms to match.

Crow sets the cookie back in the box and replaces the lid, "I'll save them for later."

"So, what brought you two all the way to the Tangled Shore? Just a cookie delivery?" Glint asks, hovering near Crow's shoulder.

"Well, we figured since we hadn't been able to visit for awhile, this would be the ideal time to drop by and check in," Ghost supplies.

The Young Wolf nods in confirmation.

"Well, with all the Wrathborne, Spider has been keeping us busy overseeing the hunts." Crow says softly, gesturing to the spot on the cot beside him.

She takes a seat without any hesitation, fluffing her cloak out to avoid sitting on it.

"Xivu Arath has been busy," Ghost remarks.

"It's only a matter of time before we catch up to her," Glint returns.

"And we'll be ready when you do," Ghost assures them as the Young Wolf rests her hand on Crow's shoulder as if in sync with the remark. It never ceases to amaze him how coordinated the Young Wolf is with her Ghost, how easily his words seem to replace her own.

Will he ever reach that point with Glint?

A subtle shift of one of her fingers draws him back to the moment and its then that the full weight of her touch registers.

Every nerve ignites, a warmth flourishing down his arm and into his chest. For a moment, his mind drifts back to his conversation with Glint. It's as if his little Light could read his mind when he nudges him again even as the ghost speaks.

"I'm sure you two have talked enough about bounties and hunts to last you awhile. We should talk about something else."

He's giving him an in. But Crow doesn't want to chance things. Her hand is still on his shoulder and he can't deny the flutter in his chest.

"Like what?" Ghost asks and Crow notes the subtle tilt of the Young Wolf's head.

"...like the Tower!" Crow interjects pointedly, ignoring the the bump against his shoulder from his companion.

"What about it?"

"What's it like?"

The Young Wolf looks toward her Ghost as if mulling over what he can tell him before giving a nod.

"Well, it's on Earth. We call it the Last City. It's really quite the sight, you have a clear view of the Traveler! Whenever we're there for a night, she'll take us up to the highest wall and watch the sunset." Ghost settles into his Guardian's lap, her hand resting lightly on his shell.

"It sounds nice."

"It is. The sun sets around the Traveler and - we should take you to see it sometime." There's an edge of excitement in Ghost's tone and Crow looks to the Young Wolf to see if the sentiment is mutual.

She nods her agreement, two swift downward tilts of her head in rapid succession and it's all the answer he needs.

"Maybe one day we can?" He offers hopefully and she touches his forearm with a subtle spark of lightning. Nothing painful, but there's an odd sensation dancing over his nerves. He's noticed she only ever slips up when she's extremely excited and it sparks a smile at the corner of his mouth. Gazing over at her, Crow notes how there's a warmth to her touch detectable even through the leather of her gloves and there's an almost golden glow around the Solar Hunter's frame.

"Guardian--" Ghost shifts to look up at her and the glow ebbs with a sheepish rub at her neck.

Crow can't help but chuckle softly, "It's alright, Spider's lair could use some more light."

If ever a Guardian could visibly blush behind a helmet, Crow thinks now might be the time.  She shifts, glancing around almost awkwardly with another whisper of gold around her helmet and hood. It's adorable and mesmerizing all at once. A light like a star and yet, dimmed as if intended to protect those around it.

"Perhaps, we should get going? Before she lights the lair on fire." Ghost says, only halfway joking and the Young Wolf looks almost indignant as the light sputters out as quickly as it appeared.

"It'd be an improvement. Trust me." Glint supplies as the Young Wolf stands.

Crow almost reaches for her, almost pulls her to him but he forces himself upright and offers a soft smile, "Thank you for the cookies."

She tilts her head and nods. He imagines she's smiling beneath her helmet and some part of him longs to see that - one day, perhaps.

"Safe travels, Guardian!" Glint surges forward a short distance before retreating back to Crow's side.

"See you two soon!" Ghost returns as the Young Wolf leaves and Glint bumps against Crow's shoulder.

"I think that went very well."

"I suppose it did." Crow returns softly, still staring after her with a sort dazed smile.

"...are you okay?" Glint darts up to hover in front of Crow's face and the Hunter jerks back ever so slightly.

"O-of course. I'm fine."

"Uh huh," Glint returns smugly and Crow huffs as he looks towards the cookies she'd left, "You're not actually going to eat those, are you?"

"No. I appreciate the thought, but, I don't think I can eat those. I'm sure the Eliksni here will appreciate them more. They love that sort of...crumbled, burnt taste."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah," Crow rubs the back of his neck.

"Guess you'll be in charge of cooking then," the Little Light bumps up against his shoulder again.

"Glint," Crow chides with a soft chuckle as he returns to his cot.

"Just an observation."

"An unnecessary one."

"Says you."

Crow lays down on the cot with a content, yet lightly exaggerated sigh, "Goodnight, Glint."

Glint settles onto his chest, "Goodnight, Crow."

Crow allows his eyes to sag shut, listening to the soft hum of his Ghost as he drifts off to a peaceful rest.

-------------------------

A/N: Hey folks!

This fic will be slow to update, I’m more or less trying to follow Bungie’s canon timeline for Crow, so as his story unfolds to its full extent, this fic will follow. :) I’m already working on Chapter 2 which starts off with Crow’s newfound freedom!

Stay tuned!

~ Phantom

CHAPTER 2 (DIFFICULT ADJUSTMENTS)

Taglists are open! Send an ask/leave a comment to be added!

Forevers: @halo-2 @reaped-winnower @genken64 @sugarcoated44 @cayde-6

[themandhoelorian]

Dincember - December 4: Hot Chocolate

summary: Mando has unique ways of showing his affection for his son, like getting him hyper on too many cups of hot chocolate, but it’s only after a long day of bringing the kid down from his sugar high that you realize Mando has similar ways of showing how much he cares for you.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader

warnings: a caffeine addiction, sleep deprivation, the smallest sexual innuendo, Din being sweeter than hot chocolate, not super well edited ahaha

word count: 3.2k 

a/n: asdfghkldf this is so so late but this week has been long and exhausting (no this fic was definitely NOT me projecting), and I haven’t had as much time as I’d like to write :/. I’m not even really sure this makes sense, but that’s kind of how my brain works when it’s exhausted, so hopefully on some level that’s accurate ahaha 

***

You never understood the appeal of caf until you joined Mando’s crew. 

The first time someone offered you a cup, that one day you showed up to the tiny mechanic shop of your first job with bags under your eyes, complaining about how little sleep you’d gotten the night before, you thought you’d been handed a steaming cup of motor oil by accident instead. 

The dark liquid felt like lava on the roof of your mouth, leaving the taste of bitter ash on your tongue as you willed sip after sip down your throat. It did pull you out of the sleep-deprived fog, but it was more of a jolt in the opposite direction than a gentle tug, your body shooting into overdrive and hands shaking so intensely you burned your fingers on your soldering iron more times than you could count that day. 

After that, you tried to stay away from caf as much as possible. No matter how little you’d slept the night before, how often you were caught staring blankly at the wall instead of untangling a mess of wires, you always refused when you saw a mug of hellfire coming your way. The acrid taste, the jitters, none of it was worth enduring when you just had to make it to closing before you could go home and sleep away the fatigue. 

But now, your full time job is taking care of a child, and every night is a night with too little sleep. You spend your days trying to wrangle a warm, mischievous demon into compliance instead of just manipulating cold scraps of metal, and the kid doesn’t have “closing hours”- not with how violently he reacts to the notion of bedtime- so there’s never a sweet finish line to look forward to at the end of the day. 

You thought you’d known exhaustion before, felt it heavy on your shoulders those months you worked overtime to make ends meet, but that was light years away from what you feel now. The black hole of sleep consumes you as soon as you get the chance to lie down, and when you inevitably wake to the sound of cries a few hours later, it feels like the weight of the galaxy is crushing your lungs, making it nearly impossible to crawl back out of bed.

So after just a few weeks on the Crest, after that one day when you accidentally dozed off watching the kid play and woke to find him sticking a finger into the barrel of a blaster (thankfully Mando had the sense not to keep his weapons loaded on the ship or Maker, that could’ve ended badly), you bought a caf maker on the next planet and forced yourself to chug a cup every morning since.

The taste still sucks, no matter how much cream you’ve tried mixing in, but it doesn’t make you jittery like it used to, the caffeine just enough to keep you awake, and now you don’t know how you ever took care of the little womp rat without it, especially on the days when Mando returns from his hunts and the child bursts with energy to welcome his father home.

Even if it’s only been a couple days since Mando left, you’d think he’d been gone for months with the way they act at seeing each other again. The kid’s just downright ecstatic, dropping whatever part he’s playing with as soon as he hears the hiss of the hull opening and babbling excitedly as he runs into his father’s arms. He’ll follow Mando’s every move for at least an hour after he’s returned, and sometimes, you have to literally pry him from the beskar so Mando can retreat to the cockpit and set the course to the next planet.

And then there’s Mando. He’ll look stoic as ever as he takes the child into his arms, but you can feel how eager he is to reunite with his son, his affection all but spilling out the sides of his armored chest. He’ll never admit it, of course, you’re not sure he’d even be able to find the words to say it if he wanted to, but he finds other ways to show the kid how much he missed him, how deeply he cares about his little foundling.

More often than not, those methods include spoiling the child to no end, giving into the kid’s every desire and providing him with a few moments of pure, unrestrained joy. And more often than not, you’re left with the not-so-simple task of dealing with the consequences of giving the child his every wish, easing him down from the euphoric high and re-establishing that he absolutely cannot expect that kind of indulgence with anyone but his father.

Like one time, Mando stayed awake with him all night long, conceding five more minutes every time the kid whined when he was told it was time for bed. Five minutes quickly turned into hours as they watched the bright mosaic of hyperspace go by, the kid so happy to just sit in Mando’s lap while he spoke in the soothing tones of his people’s tongue. You were only able to pull the child from his father’s arms in the early hours of the morning, all three of you only half conscious at that point, and you spent several cycles trying to get the kid (and yourself) back on a normal sleep schedule.

Or like today, when Mando returned this morning while it was still dark outside, and you woke to the smell of cocoa and peppermint what felt like mere minutes after you’d fallen asleep. When you finally pulled yourself from the bunk, you found Mando sitting next to the child as they sipped on steaming liquid, his helmet tilted back just enough for him to bring the mug to his lips. 

He made the kid hot chocolate, you realized from the way the child threw back his bowl so quickly he left milky brown splotches on his face. Of course. Mando had made a habit of bringing sweets back for his son after he’d once gotten his hands on a chocolate bar you’d splurged on in the market, nearly bouncing off the walls with glee as he devoured the entire thing in seconds. That was a memorable day for all of you: the kid found his new favorite snack, Mando found another way to indulge the child, and you found out that when the kid has sugar in his system, you need caf more than water to survive the day.

So it’s no surprise that several hours and a couple more servings of hot chocolate later, long after Mando’s gone to the cockpit to fly to the next planet, you’re chasing the tiny ball of energy around the hull, running on nothing but an unhealthy amount of caf mixed with a little bit of spite, worried you might collapse before the sugar-fueled monster falls asleep.

You have half a mind to be mad at Mando for getting the kid so hyped up on the decadent drink and inevitably making your job that much harder, but you can’t get the image of them together this morning out of your head, Mando dabbing the mess from the child’s face as giggles bubbled from his tiny mouth. The memory’s shaded with the golden haze of dawn, like those dreams that feel warm and familiar, and you can feel your heart swell re-imagining that moment of perfect bliss, father and son so content just to be with each other and the sweetness in their cups.

And oh, you know you could never be upset at Mando for indulging the kid, creating those little pockets of warmth in a life filled mostly by cold, dead space, no matter how much more work it makes for you. Not when you know that he savors those moments as much as the child, that the days he’s back with his son are the only times he doesn’t have to be tough and menacing and deadly, the Crest the only place he doesn’t have to armor up his feelings just as much as his body.

You’re willing to reign in the kid, be the tough one on the ship, if it means Mando can show his son the softness that lies beneath the beskar, tuck away the sharp edges when he holds the little green menace in his lap. You’re willing to lose weeks of sleep course-correcting after each indulgence if it means he can let the honey of his love ooze thick and messy before he’s off to the next quarry and has to lock his affection behind iron walls again. You’re even willing to drink all the caf in the galaxy, let cup after cup burn bitter down your throat, if it means he can have a moment of peace sipping hot chocolate with his son at the break of dawn. 

You’re more than willing, happy even, to do all that and more for him, especially if it means you can catch glimpses of the man behind the guise of “Mando” in the process, a man whose heart you’ve found yourself wondering more and more about lately, wondering if it might one day beat strong and steady for you the same way it does for the kid.

So no, you’re not mad at Mando, not in the slightest. It’s more that right now you’re worried you might not be physically able to do those things for him, the shorter than usual night of sleep catching up with you faster than you can fight it off with caf. You’re pretty sure it stopped working after your third cup anyway, the additional caffeine just making you dizzy and no more energized, and you don’t know how much longer you can keep up with the child’s pace. You’ve played peekaboo and thrown around his favorite silver ball and even tried to show him how to rewire an old generator (not that you had any luck with that), and he still hasn’t crashed from his sugar high. 

You have no idea what else to do to keep the child busy, and Maker, you’re just so kriffing tired right now, so you’ve resorted to leaning against the door of the weapons closet, floating in that hazy space on the brink of consciousness, using what little of your energy remains to make sure he at least won’t get his hands on a blaster again. 

You’re not even completely sure what the kid’s doing right now, just know he’s somewhere on the other side of the hull, and you can only hope that Mando doesn’t come down here and find you and the kid like this. The last thing you want to do is make him worry, doubt how much you care about his son’s well being, but it’s like he can feel your exhaustion radiating through the ship because the next thing you know, the heavy echoes of his boots fill the hull as he descends the ladder from the cockpit. 

You will yourself to sit up straighter as you hear his footsteps getting louder, locate the child before Mando can, but your body is working on a little bit of a lag, and by the time you actually open your eyes, Mando’s walking past you, the child snoring softly in his arms.

Of course he fell asleep as soon as you took eyes off of him, the little monster.

Mando doesn’t say anything as he tucks the child into his makeshift bed before striding back to the other side of the hull, and some faraway part of your brain tells you to explain yourself or apologize or say kriffing anything at this point, but the inky gravity of sleep is pulling you in deeper with each passing moment, and you can’t be bothered to speak when your eyes are threatening to droop shut again. 

They must have at some point because you don’t remember seeing Mando approach you, but somehow he’s in front of you now, holding a mug out in front of your face. Maker, you must’ve drifted off, long enough for him to decide you needed some help staying awake and make you a cup of caf, and as you reach for it instinctively, bringing the cup to your lips in the trained motion, you can’t decide if it’s just as a thoughtful gesture or a thinly veiled warning for you to actually do your job.

You hum as the warm liquid coats your tongue, deliciously silky and slightly sweet, and it’s only when you swallow, the milky substance gliding down your throat, that you realize-

“This isn’t caf,” you mumble, looking up from the mug to meet Mando’s gaze.

“I never said it was.”

You just stare at him wordlessly, trying to figure out why he made you hot chocolate when it’s not going to make you any more functional. You have no idea how long you sit there thinking, too far gone to even understand the concept of time right now, but it must be a while because he breaks the silence first with a sigh.

“Cyar’ika, you have to stop drinking that crap. It’s not good for you.”

“Need it,” you respond, almost too quickly considering how long it took you to answer him before. Apparently the only thing you can understand in this groggy fog is your caf addiction. “Gonna fall asleep if not.”

“You’re about to anyway. Come on, you need to sleep.”

For some reason you giggle at that, unable to stop the laughter rising through your chest. He’s right, of course, but it just seems so damn funny right now that Mando, who has told you he rarely sleeps when he’s away, who you’ve never seen rest for more than an hour at a time, is telling you that you’re the one that needs sleep.

“You sleep even less than me, Mando. You can’t talk,” you accuse.

He jerks his helmet back in something like disbelief, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling again.

“Well I’m not the one falling asleep on the floor right now,” he counters.

“That’s fair,” you admit. You take a few more sips of the hot chocolate, closing your eyes in pleasure as the warmth floods your veins. Maybe it’s just because you’re so used to the sharp bite of caf, but the sugary drink feels so good, like something comforting and familiar though you can’t quite place your finger on where you recognize it from. It’s almost like you’re wrapped up in the thickest blanket or, even better, by strong arms as you’re lulled to sleep, and you’re not sure that’s what you were thinking of, but you realize that’s exactly what you want right now. 

And then your stupid, half-conscious brain decides to ask for it in the worst way possible.

“How about this, I’ll sleep if you sleep with me.”

You only catch how kriffing suggestive it sounds as the words come tumbling out of your mouth, but then all at once, you’re utterly aware of how much you’ve been embarrassing yourself. First getting caught falling asleep on the job and then accidentally making a very blunt pass at your boss, and Maker, you’re just a whole ass mess today aren’t you? Suddenly you feel very awake, your eyes going wide as you stumble over your words trying to backtrack as quickly as possible.

“Oh stars, I didn’t mean sleep with me, that’s definitely not what I, well, not that I wouldn’t…no, I just- I do need sleep but so do you, even if you’re not actually falling asleep right now, so I was just gonna say that we should both-”

But then your rambling is cut off by a chuckle coming from the modulator, his voice light and playful in a way you’ve never heard before.

If you weren’t so kriffing worried about what he was thinking about you right now, you might’ve thought it was the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

“I know what you meant, cyar’ika,” he says. 

Oh, thank Maker, you think, waves of something like relief washing warm over your body. You’re not quite sure how he can understand what it is you want when you can’t even articulate it yourself, but your brain is still too foggy to care, deciding it doesn’t really matter how he knows you so well, just that he does.

Mando eases the mug from your hands, the worn leather of his gloves brushing lightly over your knuckles. You whine in protest as he steals the liquid comfort from your fingers, but it’s quickly replaced by his hands wrapping around yours to help you off the ground.

“I’ll make you more tomorrow,” he assures you, his voice as velvety as the drink he just took from your grasp. “But now, we need to sleep.”

We, not you. 

You barely catch the distinction as he leads you to the bunk while his thumb rubs soothing circles on your lower back, but it just leaves you even more confused in your sleepy daze. You didn’t think he was actually going to entertain your suggestion, even if he did take it in the more innocent way, and when you crawl into the bunk and he doesn’t follow, you think maybe you just misheard him.

But as you close your eyes, your exhaustion starting to pull you away from reality again, you hear the clang of metal on metal behind you, and a gentle tap on your calf halts your descent into the stillness of sleep as Mando climbs into the bunk next to you.

It’s only after he shuts the door, when your body is pressed to his so you both fit in the tiny space, that you realize he’s taken his armor off, the first time he’s ever done so in front of you. You can’t see him at all in the darkness of the bunk, you’re not sure you could even open your eyes again at this point anyway, but even in your delirium you can grasp the weight of how vulnerable he’s making himself right now, letting you run your fingers lazily across the tight muscles of his bicep and rest your head against his broad chest.

And once again, you’re overcome by the feeling of something pleasant and vaguely familiar, your heart swelling the same way it did when you first saw Mando and the child this morning, the same warmth in your veins as the first sip of hot chocolate. You couldn’t quite place it before, but for some reason, as you listen to the way his heart beats strong and steady against you, you think you finally recognize it, the way Mando’s been making you feel all day, the reason he knew exactly what you needed before you could even realize it yourself.

It’s just a hazy flash in the moment before the black hole of sleep finally consumes you, an inkling of a breakthrough you may or not remember tomorrow, but you think this feeling, the acrid taste of caf replaced by smooth chocolate on your tongue, a strong body turned soft as it’s molded to yours, has a four letter name you thought you and Mando only saved for the child.

Maybe that’s why you’re learning to use it for each other too.