#like even passed out...... king behaviour

[hauntingblue]

Luffy has been on point with his king's haki this arc so far..... really liking it

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Theseus is dead. You’re escorting the Minotaur, more beast than a man, out of the Labyrinth. The problem is, he seems to be more interested in what’s between your legs than in his mission of killing the notorious king of Crete… (12 k. Minotaur is not an actual hybrid in this fic. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Part 1 here.) Tags/warnings: Shameless smut mdni, dubious consent, extremely possessive behaviour, abduction, first time (König & reader are both virgins), hugs & cuddles, washing blood off your monster boyfriend, awkward flirting, semi-rough sex, shifting power dynamics, sexist insults & slurs (the citizens of Crete do not approve of your choices), implied cannibalism, fluffy ending. Mythical AU.

The candle goes out before you reach the surface.

To someone else, it would be the end of the world: to you, it’s only a hindrance, a nuisance, mostly. 

You’re not easily distressed. If you were, you wouldn’t be in the service of the greatest goddess of the Underworld. And you’re not mourning losing the sight of your warmly illuminated beast... You’re only worried about what he will do once the darkness descends. Whether he will forget about his vow, whether the baser instincts take over him once the darkness falls.

And darkness is not capable of making you lost: you can always follow the string in your hand. But without light, it’s difficult to predict the Bull’s moves: whether he decides to maim or fuck you against the wall, you can never tell. He hasn’t lived in the real world among people; he doesn’t know what’s right or wrong and what’s expected of him. Even the best of men can succumb to the demands of the flesh, so what power would a Bull Man have against his animal wants? No one ever taught him to respect the gods, let alone the maidens who serve them...

Then again, if a simple candle was the only thing that kept you alive, then what’s the point of lamenting the loss of it? Your life was already forfeit when you chose to descend here.

So you let it go: as always, the greatest lesson in life is to simply let go. Of control, of judgment, of fear, of hope. 

He doesn’t say a thing when the light flickers, then fades. The candle goes out in silence, and you let it drop before the remaining wax burns your palm.

And it’s not the absence of light, but strength, that forces you on your knees before even an hour has passed. There’s still a long way to go, and the yarn is like a thin string of hope in your hand, but you’re too exhausted, too worn out, too hungry and too tired to go on.

The Bull Man doesn’t object to your suggestion to lay down and sleep for a while. He has walked behind you in silence the whole day. Or night… You can’t tell the difference; you lost count somewhere along the way down here. The air is stale and humid, and there’s no torch, not a single candle anywhere and even if there were, you wouldn’t do anything with them without a flint. 

The horror is kept at bay only through your numerous exercises with the goddess who introduced you to darkness many, many moons ago. You were initiated during the dark Moon, the new Moon, the blood Moon, introduced to the mysteries of the maiden, mother and crone, to the secrets of both the living and the dead. You’re not afraid, but your body still warns you of danger: you just don’t know if it’s a memory from childhood or a reaction to the Bull, panting behind you – out of lust or exertion, you don’t even know. Someone who wasn’t a maiden probably could tell… At times, you curse the fact that there hasn’t been a single phallus inside you because men too possess knowledge. Taking a man into your bed would have initiated you to a different set of mysteries, but now, you are poking blind. 

The Bull Man is an animal, you remind yourself. The longer you stay in his company, the more he starts to resemble a human, even if he is a man of few words. How he even remembers them is another mystery: you thought he was sent down here as a young boy. He speaks oddly but eloquently, a remnant of his noble descent, perhaps. Or perhaps he has listened to the people speaking in the Labyrinth, eavesdropped his victims an hour or two before killing them. Whatever the reason, you have to constantly tie your tongue because there’s simply no point in talking to a beast. The less you know about him and his past, the better.

You ready yourself for sleep, but the cursed cold of the tunnels keeps your body awake. Your flesh is human even if your mind is forged to withstand hunger, thirst and pain. Endurance against cold was never your strong suit, and you miss the heat of the sun, the warmth of it on your skin, even the ample light it gives. You, a lover of the moon, missing the heat of Apollo… It’s a joke, surely.

On the stone floor, it’s even colder, the rough, damp ground making your very bones ache. How on Hecate’s name has the beast survived this place?

“Bull Man,” you speak into the darkness, thick like an impenetrable wall and thin like a virgin’s veil.

“Maiden,” he echoes with a dark, low growl, slightly amused by the name you’ve selected for him.

“Are you cold?” You whisper.

Perhaps he doesn’t quite understand the question or why you asked it. It doesn’t matter: you have to swallow your pride and ask for his help if you’re going to survive this dark prison.

“I don’t get cold,” he finally responds.

“Good. I need your heat.” 

The silence drags on, and you fear he has misunderstood you again, but then he speaks again, with the same slightly amused tone as before.

“Come take it.”

You’re not sure if you’ve completely lost your mind, crawling to him through the uneven floor of the Labyrinth. Who knows what he will do to you once he gets those arms of iron around you? You’re placing your maidenhood, your whole body at his mercy. And you’re not even sure if it’s a he, if this thing is human at all. 

Human or animal, your hand meets the bull’s head on the way to him. He has taken it off, then... It’s not a part of him, just like you suspected. Maybe he is just a giant, daunting man, born from whatever forbidden desire Pasiphae had. Who knows if she only went to a foreign lover’s arms when her husband was at war? Who knows if King Minos has trouble getting his phallus up… These things happen: women get pregnant from their lovers, they do desperate things to pacify their husbands. And you don’t need a bull to get yourself an heir...

You feel his heat before you feel his skin: the Minotaur is verily blazing. He has gotten used to the cold, it seems, his body like a small bonfire in the clammy tunnel. 

“Cold little female,” he comments when you snuggle towards him shyly, thoroughly aware of the uninviting chill of your body. 

You settle next to him, every muscle in your body tight like a bowstring, your breaths shallow when he gives you a welcoming rumble. Goosebumps prickle across your skin and your throat goes dry, the thick swallow in the tunnel echoing around you like a thief.

Arms like iron go around you, and his body is taut, just like yours, but for a whole different reason entirely. He’s not afraid or nervous; he’s just… big. Pure muscle, his whole body thick, the stock and heat of him remind you of the sun. A miniature sun down here in these dark tunnels, but while you start to slowly soften in his arms, a different threat is already emerging. It doesn’t take long before his cock stiffens against you, and with the scarce clothing you both have, you can feel its every excited twitch.

Artemis… Protect me from this beast. Turn him into a dog if he tries to penetrate me. Let him rip my throat instead… 

You’ve never prayed to the Virgin Goddess; you don’t know if she can even hear you from down here. But Hecate would only laugh if this Bull decided to breed you. No mercy would arrive from that direction: she would either send a disease of blisters upon the Minotaur for touching her chosen or then she would cackle like an old woman, thousand times raped.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hoping your kindness will distract him from what’s happening downstairs.

“My pleasure,” he grumbles, mimicking the words he probably heard as a child in his father’s great hall. 

It sends a chill down your spine and butterflies into your heart to hear him speak like a polite man of court. And again, you think of asking him about his childhood... His mother, his father, the things he remembers from the surface. How he survived here without water, if there are underground springs here somewhere. Whether he eats humans like they say... If he ever embraced the dead women he killed. 

“Can you do it again,” he rumbles against you, cutting you away from your grotesque thoughts.

“...Do what again?” 

“Touch me… With your hand.”

His words are blunt now, his speech clumsy. But the way he says it is not an order. It’s an odd beg, more like. Laced with hope and wishes far away from greed. This Bull is never greedy, per se… He’s just lacking. Starved, for so many things that you fear there’s not enough time nor kindness to give him what he needs.

Your pulse flutters when you slowly lift your hand and caress the strong cords of muscle that make his neck. The rumbling returns; it turns into a low purr as the beast relaxes under your touch. Something softens inside you when he sighs from relief. His unbridled happiness tugs at your heart, trying to yank open something forbidden. It’s the softest violation you’ve ever felt: to be held by a giant killer having a roaring erection, while the said killer clearly enjoys your caress like it’s the touch of Aphrodite herself…

You even stroke his face. His jaw, unclenching under your touch; his cheek, covered with what you suppose is simply a wild, overgrown beard. 

“Your hand,” he groans softly, “makes me sleepy and warm…”

The cold, uncaring goddess recedes. The burdens of past, present and future dissolve. Softness takes place in your heart; the iron locks give in like brittle brass. A smile plays on your lips as you continue to pet him softly, lulling you both to sleep with your voice.

“Then sleep, Bull of Crete...”

…

You wake up to his cock pressing against you.

Not against your stomach like when you went to sleep – that you could do with – but against your cunt, barely veiled by the thin linen of your dress.

The panic is soon wrestled down with reason: you tell yourself it’s just a cock. It’s just him. You’re simply in the Minotaur’s arms, and he’s sound asleep still; there’s no reason to buck and jerk and scream. 

The darkness feels like a safe womb now, but with nothing to lock your gaze to, you have to take a moment to ground yourself into reality. And the first thing you ground into is a thick cockhead, pressing fast into your nether lips. He’s practically at the gates, and you’re lucky he’s still asleep.

It’s perhaps your fault this happened in the first place: you notice you’ve dragged your thigh over his hip; as if wanting him to fuck you in your sleep… You embrace him like Helen of Troy, and he holds you through his sleep like a man in love, perfectly content with napping on the cold ground with you.

“Mm…” The beast stirs, probably noticing how the female in his arms is tense as a rod. “You smell like you want to fuck…”

“No I don’t,” you hurry to whisper.

Gods curse this man’s ability to smell everything from miles away. Blood and humans and, apparently, a woman at her most receptive. 

What if he can actually smell the wetness between your legs?

“We need to go,” you slowly remove your leg from on top of his waist, hoping it would go unnoticed that you were clutching him like a lover. You have no such luck: he grabs your thigh and draws it back, sets it safe and snug around his waist while adjusting his grip on you, now hugging you entirely like a lover would.

“I want to mate with you,” he says softly. “You want to mate too. Why go?”

He sounds so adorable when he’s still in the process of waking up to a new day. Drowsy and sweet, voice husky from sleep, body warm as can be, the hard-on between his legs happy and stiff.

“I thought you wanted to kill the king,” you try to point out. 

“This is more important,” he gruffs. “Urgent.”

The cock pushes further up and against you, now spreading your folds under the dress, trying to penetrate into your heat. Your eyes go wide as thick need pools down to meet his greed. His body, his cock makes your head go dull for a moment; you feel like you’re not even capable of thinking actual thoughts.

“No, it’s not. We need to get up.”

You stiffen in his arms, push yourself away, and to your surprise, he actually lets you go. Reluctantly and with a hollow grunt, but he lets you go. 

You rise with a wobble, and adjust your dress, your head spinning from his advances. You swear he becomes more man-like every day, every passing hour, even. Or is it just you who’s changing…? 

The Bull Man is up before you get to ponder on that thought for too long. Your heart and head struggle to find their footing for a moment, your legs are so weak you feel like fainting. He catches you before you fall, the warm, thick arms closing around you with stout affection.

“You need more heat?” He asks softly.

You look up out of habit, even if you can't see his eyes, covered by the carcass again because his voice is muffled.

“No… I’m hungry.”

He’s silent for a moment, probably thinking what he could do to help the situation. You fear he will suggest you go back to visit his “pantry” and eat whatever horrible, half-rotten man-flesh he might have in store there, but he only holds you close to prevent you from sliding back to the ground.

“Hmm. No mice up here,” he ponders. 

“You eat mice…?”

“Sometimes.”

You leave it at that: you don’t want to know what he’s had to do to sustain himself down here. You don’t even have a fire to cook the vermin, even if you would be ready to eat even those after another day or two without food. 

“Not a long way up,” he says. “We will reach the sun soon. Then I’ll find you something to eat.”

“How do you know that…?”

“The air smells different.”

You sigh and search for the string, your lifeline to the outside world. You can’t wait to get out of here, and with both hurry and an odd dread, you hike for what seems like another whole day. Tension, hunger and thirst distort your thoughts, and you’re sure by now that the time flows differently here in the Underworld. With no small amount of pride, you feel accomplished to have survived this place so far. Even gods have had to do some tricks to escape the nether worlds: it is no small feat to charm the Minotaur and then walk out of here unharmed. 

To your knowledge, you’re the only one who has ever escaped the Labyrinth. You haven’t even had time to think about what you will unleash with you… The demon that walks on your heels will take his revenge, not only on the king but on the city who threw him here. 

Well. It’s their problem now. Minos and Pasiphae simply have to deal with their successor. The world will simply have to deal with the Underworld’s wrath. 

And oh, how Hecate would laugh if she saw this monster prince of Crete escape his prison because of you – the feared Minotaur set free, only because he’s mesmerized by a woman. You suspect he would have his cock jumping for any girl, though. It's not because you're an exceptional sorceress that he follows you: it's your cunt he's after. And it shouldn’t make you feel jealous that he probably gets distracted the moment he sees a better offer walk by.

But it does. In your darkest wishes, you would keep the Bull Man all to yourself. Get him a leash, perhaps... Feed him with your own hands and let him grope you in the dark, watch him go wild from lust when you finally give him access to your cunt. 

Many would hardly think you’re a virgin if they took a peek inside your head. But the things you’ve seen and done, the white bulls you’ve slaughtered for the dark Goddess, adorning them with cypress wreaths before slashing their throats open, would turn any woman bleak and twisted like this. For once, you would like to save the bull from slaughter.

When you see the first evidence of light, your body lets out a sigh it has been holding ever since you arrived here. Seeing the sun gives you more strength than any food or meal, and you pick up your pace while the Minotaur behind you begins to hesitate. 

“It’s too bright,” he says before you’ve even walked out of the tunnel, now turning into a vast cave, the entrance to the Labyrinth. 

You turn around to look and stop in your tracks when you see the fear in his eyes is acute. It’s mixed with wonder, the curiosity wrestling away doubt slowly but surely. He only needs a little nudge, a gentle pull, an enticing little smile and eyes that he can trust.

“You’ll get used to it soon,” you extend your hand. 

He takes a step, then another, then another, until he reaches your outstretched fingers, and hand in hand you walk out of the Labyrinth and into the bright morning sun, burning over the kingdom of Crete.

He’s only a breath away from panicking, but covers it well. You wonder if it’s truly the light that’s too bright or if the feeling of being so exposed is what makes him so afraid. Clearly, the vast space opening up before him is intimidating. 

There are grassy plains as far as the eye can see, little hills that dot the horizon, and skies so expansive and bright it must hurt his eyes. Goats are grazing under the sun, trees are bending in the wind, the rustling of leaves and the sound of birds calling him to look in all directions as he tries to make some sense of his surroundings.

“It’s alright,” you give his palm a soft squeeze, and the way he looks there under the sun, so big and powerful and able, and still so utterly lost, is giving you heartache you haven’t known since you were a child.

“There’s… so many colours,” he says, looking at the blue summer sky, the deep olive greens, the dirty whiteness of the goats, the flowers upon the grass. A butterfly, flying past, yellow like the citrus that people harvest from a few miles from here. A big blackbird with an orange beak, swooping down to catch a cricket, the slate grey pigeons flying so close to the sun that he has to shield his eyes even if they’re already safe and sheltered under the bull head.

Seeing his wonder and awe makes you look at the scenery so differently that it burns, it actually hurts: there’s so much beauty in the world, and you have always taken it for granted. Cursed the rain and the storms, cursed the droughts, cursed the gods for sending down another famine, when in truth, the world was filled with abundance, of colours, of life and joy… And all you’ve done is worship darkness. Now the darkness is out: it’s standing next to you, watching the view of your mundane everyday life like it’s nothing short of a miracle.

And when you turn back to look at him again, his eyes are upon you.

“What?” You ask, freshly caught in your moment of weakness.

“You are pretty,” he says, eyes wrinkling with delight under the mask. 

Gods damn him… 

He doesn’t know that human men don’t act like this, talk like this, or if they do, there’s usually something vile involved behind it all. He doesn’t know how to play games, he was never introduced to the lies and deceit of the world.

The Bull of Crete only looks at you with soft fondness in his stare – he doesn’t understand that he should cover that softness as well if he intends to win. Any woman could put a leash on him before another moon has passed, but he doesn’t seem to care. And it’s not even heat or hunger that makes you weak this time... It’s those eyes, looking at you with more and more warmth.

“Nonsense,” you huff without a voice, and turn towards the old road with an adoring bull on your heels.

The cold sigh of the underworld is quickly left behind you as you walk up the old carriage road, nearly grown in with weeds. The Labyrinth is located miles away from civilization, but the people living in these hills are used to the cold cave by now. They trust that the Minotaur will never escape and only turn away their heads and close the doors of their huts when the screaming, crying human sacrifices are delivered to the mouth of the cave. Little do they know that the monster is now looking at their little hills and goats with delight, not bloodlust.

For the Minotaur is fascinated with your world: he has to touch every leaf, every tree, every blade of grass, it seems. The goats are afraid of him, but one small nanny is bold enough to come and sniff his hand. Perhaps it remembers that beings walking on two feet give her apples sometimes, and the giant studies this small white animal with gentle curiosity, allows the goat to smell his hand, only chuckles when the goat gives out a little scoff when she notices there are no treats to be found there.

The vision is more adorable than when you’ve seen children play with kittens, and no matter what you do, you can’t turn your heart into ice anymore. You were taught that the Minotaur is a monster who enjoys torturing his victims, creatures far more helpless than him. Now you see him watching the she-goat with warm curiosity, rumbling softly inside his helm, far from the ravaging beast that approached you in that tunnel what seems like months ago.

You watch him with tender sadness as he marvels at the sky and remembers how he used to sit in the shade of an olive tree when he was a child. He goes to sit there now and examines how the sun filters through the massive branches of the tree as if trying to recall the memory. 

He asks questions like: “How can you humans stand this heat?” or “Why is there only one road?” and listens to your answers carefully.

He says he can smell the sea, even if the salty water is miles and miles away, and gets curious about what’s behind that hill, or that one, what about that one… You wonder if he’s even interested in killing the king anymore and suggest that he could just forget about this cruel place and buy himself a sea voyage with that expensive sword. He could get rid of his helmet and ask if anyone needs a goat herd or an able-bodied man to help at construction sites or stables; he could get work from the docks any day, sail to Athens or some other big city, forge himself a new life. 

But he doesn’t want to.

He says he has to avenge his mother who always cried when he was little.

More wretched tugs pull at your heart as you approach the city. The lovely summer’s day turns into a nightmare once people see who’s on his way to the heart of Crete.

You don’t understand their screams, not anymore, while only a few days ago you knew they preceded death. The Minotaur doesn’t kill anyone, mainly because he doesn’t have to. Everyone flees before his wake, people rush to their homes and bar the doors, even soldiers slip away to be with their loved ones or run to warn the king if they have any loyalty left. 

You’re left to walk through the marketplace in settling dust and tense silence as the Bull Man explores the abundant samples of food on display. He has to have a taste of everything from all stands, but only after he has offered figs, olives, grain, grapes, grilled meat and fish to you first.

“Eat,” he says and shoves a handful of pine seeds your way. “You were hungry?”

“This is not the way to–” you ignore the food only through sheer willpower. “This is not right. People own these things. They sell them at the market, you need to pay for these.”

“Pay? With what?”

He looks at you for a moment, unable to recall what money is and how these things are supposed to work. He probably had his mother’s servants bring him everything he needed as a child anyway, so how could he know? 

“They will take your hands for stealing,” you try to explain with softly building despair.

“I will take their heads before that.”

“The next king will hunt you down and punish you,” you rush after him, and when he won’t listen, you seize his hand and finally get him to halt. He looks down at the weak palm around his wrist, then raises his gaze to you.

“Bulls don’t have kings.”

Your attempts to tame him are futile. The things they’ve taught him to be are now being used as a way to escape responsibility, and while it’s none of your business, you refuse to let him believe that he is nothing more than an animal.

“You are not a bull,” you wail in frustration. “You’re a man.”

He hesitates, only for a moment; the gentle, loving gaze makes your legs weak.

“You’re the first to think that.” 

Then he rips himself away from you, softly but sternly.

He doesn’t need directions to the palace: he knows he has to head for the most prominent building in the city to reach the king. The grandiose heart of Crete, white-chalked and beautiful under the burning midday sun is the pride of every citizen, even if it houses another monster.

You sigh as you watch him go: the Bull Man, the demon of the underworld, the one you thought would rape you bloody before you get to crawl out of the Labyrinth. The fact that he wanted to kill his father more than he wanted to be born again into a new life wasn’t a surprise, but that he chose to bloody his sword rather than his cock is somehow... insulting, almost. 

What actually haunts you is how your insides coil and turn when you rush back to your temple. It’s not like you thought the Minotaur would take you with him. Board some trade ship bound for distant shores, and ravage you ever so softly in the belly of the creaking hull. It’s not like you dreamed of petting him to sleep while you two embark on a new life. But the way your heart twists and wails inside your chest makes it clear that losing him is even more painful than losing Theseus and the life he promised you. 

You never even wanted Theseus; you only wanted him to take you away from here. His affection would have been the result of ample witchcraft at best.

He’s practically already dead, and your heart turns to stone far more slowly than you would prefer. It’s just your luck to first have the golden hero of Greece look down on you in disdain, and then witness even the Bull Man walk away from you like you never meant anything to him. Men killing each other is the oldest story in the world, and you want no part in it, but something in this beast has stirred you awake from a long, cold slumber. It’s infuriating that you can’t dispel a simple animal from your heart. Oldest story in the book, that one, too…

But oh, how you now yearn after some cruel, lowly, dirty beast… The Minotaur already owns you, and he never even had to plunge his sword inside you to prove that. Besides, you would’ve been perfectly willing had he decided to take you on the green grass, under the vast sky, while some noisy goats graze around you. You realize that that’s what you expected to happen, and when it didn’t, you’re left more than disappointed: you're left completely hollow. You always find out these things a little too late, it seems… The Bull is headed for the palace and will likely get killed after he slaughters his cruel father. There’s at least thirty spears in that building, and more will arrive when called.

You arrive at the temple, panting and with your body flushed and weak. The maidens at the entrance share a quick glance with each other before turning their fearful gazes back to you. They’re the youngest arrivals, not even initiates yet; one of them hardly even bleeds. 

“The King is dead,” you announce without bothering to even greet them, and the girls huddle up together like they’re a bunch of slaves about to get slapped.

You realize you must look like an animal with your dirty robes, dishevelled hair and your wild, alive stare. No wonder they look like they’ve seen a ghost... You basically are one, coming back from the dead like this.

“What?” 

A priestess arrives at the threshold like an image of Hecate herself, dressed in robes as black as the midnight sky, but you don’t shy away from her like you used to.

“Or he will be. Soon. The Minotaur is here.” 

“How did you… How did it...”

You’ve never seen the priestess in disarray. She’s always composed, cold and distant, but seeing you like the wraith that you are, freshly escaped from the Labyrinth, spat back from the bowels of the earth like the dark gods didn’t even want you there, makes even the greatest of Hecate’s servants a little uneasy. 

She gathers what’s left of her dignity and finds her most commanding voice. Sadly, it doesn’t have the power to shake the ground anymore.

“Where is Theseus of Athens?”

“Disemboweled… is my best guess,” you say in a listless voice, then turn your head toward the smell of fresh fruit.

Normally, you would walk these halls with dignity, but now, you simply barge in and grab the first piece of food you find. You ought to get whipped for your insolence, but no one dares to raise a hand against you. The maids and priestesses stare in shock as you eat and drink like a starved prisoner. You’re a living Hecate in certain aspects, your arrival the first toll of the bell of doom as the palace guards sound the alarm.

So…

The Minotaur has reached the king.

…

The priestesses deem it only logical that the King finally pays for his sins: the gods have been offended by the number of human sacrifices sent to the Labyrinth, and this is their way of exacting revenge. You were only an instrument of their will.

After a quick wash and some more food, you begin to feel like a human again. The maids bring you a new chiton, flowing and white: your old clothes are burned in a brazier as if that would help you forget.

And this might be the only place you don’t get blamed for unleashing a monster. You were at a crossroads with the Minotaur, and anyone would have done the same: try to talk him out of his killing spree, calm him down, entice him with a gift. No one expected that the beast could even speak, so your approach was unusual, perhaps, but it worked. Hecate guided you through the tunnels, even when the candle went out, she stilled the Bull’s loins until you reached the sunlight where the beast got distracted with other things. You leave out the Minotaur's attraction to birds, bees and butterflies because your story is unbelievable enough as it is.

But the Minotaur will be slain after he has done his deed: Minos is the one who should be punished, not the city of Crete. And it is only just to put down this beast, a mercy.

So when he appears between the pillars of temple, this time wholly covered in blood, people are bound to scream. Even the priestesses who are used to seeing blood, shriek like widows when the Minotaur steps inside the holy shrine of Hecate.

“Where is the maiden of the crossroads?”

He came back for you, after all…

The boom of his voice is familiar, and yet, you cower on the bench when you hear it. The Minotaur sounds like he’s an envoy of Hades himself, and while you’re not among those who scream and yell, it still sends shivers down your spine to hear him speak like that.

Or is it the excitement, a tiny flame of hope that makes you quiver like this?

“We all belong to the goddess,” someone peeps, the Minotaur now descending down the stairs.

The massive head turns, gaze like razor sweeping across the marbled shrine. You’re so far back that he can’t catch you, sitting behind many bodies and faces, and before you can force yourself to rise, the main priestess, the oldest, most crooked of the crones, steps forth to meet this beast.

“This is a House of Hecate,” she speaks. “No man is allowed to enter unless they are Death.”

The black carcass turns, but the priestess doesn’t waver. If anything, her spine turns into unbreakable metal before this man’s gaze.

“I am Death,” he says, far more gently than anyone would expect. Then he walks past the crone like she’s just a harmless elder. No one does a thing, because even the head of your temple is powerless now.

“She had a red string and a candle. Where is she?”

He grabs the first woman he sees, and you rise up before he decides it’s time to thrust his blade into someone to loosen the tongues of these women. 

“Please,” you take a hesitant step towards your Bull. “I’m here... I’m the one you’re looking for.”

The Minotaur lets go of the frightened initiate the instant he sees you. She’s shoved aside with little interest, the blue eyes behind the corpse now solely fixed on you. The way they soften into hazy ice makes your knees weak – that’s the stare of someone who recognizes their loved one among a thick, dull crowd…

“Come with me,” he extends a hand when he reaches you, strong legs swallowing tiles like he’s in a hurry to get back to you. You open your mouth, close it, and look at his hand, the rough, enormous palm held out for you to place your own little hand in.

“You belong to me,” he says with great weight when you don’t speak. It should spark the ire of the goddess for him to dare to talk to you like this… But mostly, your body sings. It tells you to take a step and take his hand: to let him have you, once and for all. 

“My place is here,” you utter, all power gone from your voice. All your dreams, all your fears are offering their hand to you with his, and the maidens, mothers and crones of this hall look upon your exchange with the Bull Man in stupefied silence. 

“You were sent down to me,” he presses on. “You are mine now. You belong to me.”

Your body is singing, singing, singing.

It’s not a request… Or a proposal. 

It’s a god, taking what’s his.

…

You swallow with nothing in your throat and look at the head priestess with helpless misery: she looks back with the eyes of a noxious Medusa, wholly dispassionate to the problems you brought upon yourself. And what could she even do? She’s unarmed against the claims of Hades: Death is now in love with you, and there’s nothing you or anyone else can do about it. 

He doesn’t want to stay in the city, as enchanting as it is, saying that it stinks and that he’s tired of the screams. No one wants him here; he already knows that, and the task he was meant to do is done. He doesn’t seem to be much moved by it either, only asking you if there is a place where he can wash the blood off himself. 

People become more bold when they see you walk out of the city. Not even the sight of a crimson demigod makes them watch their tongues. Insults and slurs follow you through the streets, shouts such as “Kingslayer!” and “Beast!” are accompanied with curses such as “You are an abomination!” and “Go back to your lair!” 

No one treats him as their prince and savior, no one sees him as the man he truly is. And because hatred thickens in crowds, you get your share of the insults as well. 

What kind of a woman would follow a beast like him? Have you sold your soul to the demons of the desert, or has Hades himself forced you to be with this monster? Are you behind the murder of their king?

“Must I remind you?” You turn on your heels, standing tall and proud with the posture of a queen. “According to the old laws, the one who slays the king is the next to rule.” 

“You led him out of the Labyrinth, didn’t you?” the voices ask.

“Gave him your cunt, too,” they sneer.

“You’re worse than the bloody Gorgon,” they mock, but you have a thick skin: if anything, you take it as a compliment to be referred to the mighty slayers of men.

What cuts through your heart is the filth and hate they spit at him, the man who has known nothing but loath since he was born. 

“Hecate’s whore… I should kill you first,” one soldier shouts with spit running down his chin.

The citizens of Crete would never hail the Minotaur as their king, but none can say the deed didn’t prove great strength. Some would even call it justice. He is the queen’s son, after all: he’s more royal than any of these dung-stinking peasants will ever be. He should never have been sent down to those tunnels in the first place.

Before you know it, the Minotaur swoops past you in haste, diving towards the screaming crowd with hunched shoulders and a fiery breath.

“Stop,” you say, and he halts immediately, gaze still directed to the one who called you a whore. The soldiers back away along with the peasants and tradesmen, these poor, humble Cretes who act like they never meant to be so mean.

“Let us go in peace,” you command, voice unwavering and stern. “Or I will curse you all. You and your families, down to the seventh son and seventh daughter.”

That manages to shut them up. The threat of a curse frightens these poor beasts even more than the enraged Minotaur breathing fire through his helm. No one wants rot and puke to follow them wherever they go; no one wants to doom their offspring with illness, death and sorrow. They disperse in all directions and only hiss and whisper as they go.

You spit on the ground as your last gift to these people, leaving the city of Crete with the ever-adoring Bull at your heels.

“You’re even prettier when you’re angry,” he says while walking next to you, voice thick with genuine passion and awe.

You roll your eyes: any man would cower before Hecate’s curse, but this one? This one only gets more horny. 

“Perhaps you are part bull after all,” you retort dryly.

“It takes more than one spear to kill me,” he boasts, but you don’t need more proof of his prowess. Surely, people have tried to kill him in the Labyrinth, but he’s survived every single attempt on his life – for that alone, he should be a decorated hero.

The only thing that makes you annoyed, however, is this childish need to prove he could’ve taken the whole city by himself just because some man happened to call you a slut.

“Mother said I’m a monster instead of a man,” he says, completely unaware that your snap wasn't meant as a compliment. He says it like he’s partly proud of it, and you finally sigh and turn. 

“Your mother was heartless. And wrong.”

The Minotaur only looks at you with a building passion that goes straight to your loins.

“But you’re not.”

“...What?”

“Heartless.”

You feel stripped naked before him, the way his eyes seem to burn away your poor dress. But the fact that he unearths your most guarded secret, just like that, is a catastrophe of a far wider scale.

You’re not sure who’s tied to whom anymore… Or if you’re tied to each other, the gods now laughing in their wine as they look down at you two: a fierce and bloodied giant following the maiden he stole like it’s you who took him and not the other way around.

You reach the roaring waters of a waterfall in silence, the night wrapping the lands inside a dark blue veil. Stars will be visible soon, and with the moon creeping up to the sky, you won’t be needing candles tonight. The silver mistress gives plenty of light for you to admire your beast, and compared to the thick darkness of the tunnels you emerged from this morning, it feels like a generous blessing.

You sit on the banks of the small, clear pond, utterly exquisite at nightfall. The sun’s heat has turned into a warm, caressing breeze, and you submerge your feet into the water, giving out a satisfied sigh as the cool pond embraces your travel worn feet. The Bull sinks to a crouch some distance away from you, curious about your obvious moment of pleasure.

“Did you meet her…? Your mother?” You ask from the cool water lapping at your feet – how can a simple man make you feel so restless and shy?

“Did you… kill her?” 

“She cursed me,” he says, sullen and wholly unsurprised. Time and time again, you are shocked by the hatred his own kin shows him. How can a mother be so cruel?

“How could I kill my own maker?”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “For everything.” 

You swallow before such unwavering love. The same man who cursed the gods yesterday  honours the womb he came from so much that he won’t raise a hand against it, not even when his own mother spits curses at him. You don’t know if it’s his greatest strength or biggest weakness, but sometimes you wonder if he’s more human than humans, this beast.

“I’m not,” he retorts immediately. “The king is dead. Mother is safe. I have you... This is the best day of my life.”

You turn to look at him. Time and again, the lack of lies and deceit in this man catches you off guard. It’s more painful than any wound, to see how the Minotaur has no protective skin against the corrupted human nature, that he is human nature before it was defiled.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you falter. 

The chiton pools around your ankles, and you wonder if the man even breathes anymore. You know your skin is glowing with the last rays of the setting sun, you’re aware that the water and moonlight play upon your skin and make you look like an illusion, powerful in its own way.

When have you ever faltered…? Back when you were a little girl, you reckon, the notion euphoric and eerie in your bones.

You rise up and undress before him nonchalantly, trying to ignore the fervid stare of your admirer. Unclasping the brooches holding up your white linen dress, you let it fall down and set you free, secretly reveling in the downright carnal stare now glued to your skin. 

Ripe for plucking, you think while stepping out of the pile of cloth and into the thin evening air. His gaze feasts on you: the plump breasts no one ever loved, the vulnerable navel down below, the dark triangle between your legs, the secret power it holds.

Heat pools into your core as you watch him: everything in your body turns warm and soft when you take in the utter heftiness of him. The mean, swelling phallus between his legs, the near inhuman strength those shoulders and chest possess. Your body is the complete opposite of him, ethereal, almost, compared to the absolute brute strength before you. 

His eyes linger there the longest until he rises too, stiff and dreamy, a beast entirely taken by a thrall. The loincloth is practically torn away, as if it’s only a nuisance he must get rid of immediately. His eyes never leave your shape while he bares himself, and the phallus, you notice, belongs to a human. It’s thick and wondrous, fully erect, adorned with dark curls and accompanied by a set of balls you’ve mainly seen on horses. Big, full and round but unlike animals, they’re covered in dark fur, almost black here in the evening light. Thick seed beads through the slit of his cock from simply seeing you, and the way his chest heaves makes it clear that this man is ready to mate as soon as he’s allowed to do so. 

“You need to take off your helm,” you lift your chin, thoroughly aware of your power over him, even if it’s laughable, a miracle that he doesn’t fuck you on the spot like the animal he is. “You’re a man, not a bull.”

His eyes don’t betray any kind of hesitation. He doesn’t seem to be interested in whether he wears his mask or not. He just blinks as if he’s indeed under a spell and nods.

“If you say so.”

The broad muscles flex as he takes it off, and what is revealed to you from underneath the head is both a surprise and a disappointment. There’s not a monster under there, only a man, a stoic, boorish, shaggy male who’s in desperate need of a wash and a comb. He’s somewhat handsome under all that facial hair and knots, actually, not bad at all – if you like your men rugged and wild. 

He lets the head drop to the ground with a thud as if it was never a part of him at all, and follows you into the pool like you’re his mother and he’s your cub about to get scrubbed clean. 

He seems to dwarf you, even when half submerged in the pond, leaning back with a sigh not unlike yours. If you’re afraid, your body has a peculiar way of showing it: even in the clear, glossy water, you can feel yourself get wet. Never have you seen such strength, not in any man: in horror and awe, you realize he could be a descendant of Zeus himself. As if providing proof to these claims, he looks up to the sky, mesmerized by the myriad stars dotting the vast, unattainable blue.

Using this momentary distraction to your advantage, you reach to pluck a handful of moss from the bank. With this soft little sponge in your hand, you hope to make it clear that this is indeed a bath, not foreplay. 

“They’re stars,” you say softly while slinking closer to him. “Have you ever seen them...?”

“Yes,” he rasps with his head lolled back, throat completely exposed. It always hurts your heart to see that he trusts you so fully. You are no threat to him – even if the gods changed the moss in your hand into a weapon of some sort, you wouldn’t pose any kind of challenge. And still, the way he allows you to creep towards him and wipe his rough hide with the makeshift sponge without so much as flinching is heartbreaking. 

“I have forgotten…” his voice drifts off as he examines the night sky, eyes filled with distant, glass-like delight.

“Beautiful, aren’t they...?” 

“Your world is pretty,” he brings his gaze back to earth and to you. “But you’re the loveliest thing I’ve seen so far.”

You almost freeze upon hearing that. His compliments always catch you off guard, but this time, something forbidden and long forgotten comes undone: a lost want, no, a need to hear such simple words of shallow praise.

“You do not scream... You do not run. Why?”

Your eyes are liquid, glass about to break as you set yourself on the task of scrubbing him clean. You refuse to get emotional in front of him: an initiate of the dark goddess, shedding tears when a horny man calls her pretty? What utter nonsense.

But then he grabs your wrist: not to seize back power, but to prevent you from escaping this fragile moment.

“You are different,” he agrees calmly, then releases you, but you reckon it’s mostly because he misses the soft rubs you were giving him. 

“Perhaps I’m crazy,” you breathe while looking at the damp curls on his chest.

Yes… That’s the only explanation for this madness. It has to be.

“Is that why you took me?” 

“I took you because you’re mine. I want you.”

“You can’t just take what you want,” you warn softly.

“Why not?” His head tilts a little to the side as he’s trying to make sense of you and the manners of your world. “Don’t you want to be mine?”

You lift your gaze and risk a look into his eyes, stripped from all facades as always. You even catch a passing wave of worry there: he had counted on you being as fascinated with him as he is with you. The hunger behind that want, the need to be something special to you, is a whole another issue that must wait until your head is more clear. Way more clear…

“Perhaps,” you confess.

“I have nothing to give you,” he shrugs, eyes looking slightly past you this time, out of shame or anxiety. It takes a while for you to understand he’s liking you to the goods at the market and thinks he’s expected to have money to be able to keep you.

“You don’t need to pay for me,” you smile, trying your best to disguise the soft amusement in your voice. His brows only furrow as he tries to calculate and think.

“I don’t understand the rules of this world,” he finally shakes his head. 

“I’ll teach you.”

For a while, he only looks on with fascination how you rub his arms and belly, basically massaging him with the wet moss. His eyes drift closed when you scrub the back of his neck, the stout erection only getting thicker under the cool water. You’re careful with his legs, not because you’re afraid he’s ticklish but because you try to avoid touching the huge cock already jutting up from happiness. It gives a few excited bounces when you wash his inner thighs, hopeful to get its needs satiated soon. 

“I can hunt for you,” he suggests. “Bring you food… Protect you.”

He’s visibly excited when figuring out a way to give you something in return. He wants to provide offerings for your company, your lore, and eventually, your cunt, too. You might be a virgin, but you’re not stupid: of course he wants the soft, wet prize between your legs. A pair of lovely tits to squeeze at night... Ears to groan hushed confessions into, thighs to nibble, bite and suck until you cry... 

“What do you think?” He asks, breath heavy from the bliss you’re already granting him by simply giving him a bath. “I could give you my heat. Please you...”

“You know how to please women?” 

“No. But you could teach me.”

The way he says it is not shy. Only tentative. A bear, walking on ice and hoping it would carry his weight. One wrong step and the ice will swallow him, spitting out his bones only in spring. 

And then…

“Do you know how to fuck?”

The ice holds, mainly because you’re too shocked to even slap or ridicule this man. His eyes bore into you with such unbridled greed that you have trouble keeping your precious pride intact.

“Of course,” you hear yourself whisper like it would be an insult to your intellect if you didn’t.

“Teach me,” he says, ever more greedily.

“I…”

Your jaw is left open, but not a word comes out. A strong palm closes around your wrist again, this time to bring you flush against him. The water laps at your skin, a distant crow cackles somewhere. Your hand is brought to his phallus, but he doesn’t have to wrap your fingers around it: you do it all by yourself, breath locked in your throat as you feel how hard and blazing he is.

“You want my cock,” he says, mouth only an inch from yours. “Don’t you...?”

You wet your lips – a mistake, because his half-lidded gaze darts to your mouth the instant your pink tongue lashes out. You’re in a predicament, but on the other hand, what else did you expect, taking your clothes off in front of a touch-starved bull?

“I’d give it to you happily,” he insists. “No female ever wanted to spread her legs for me.”

Or a leash. 

Your fingers tighten on their own, they mould around him. Like a bond…

“Really?” You breathe. “What fools they were...”

The cock gives a full throb inside your palm, exalted to be yours. But only a moment later, the dreaded Minotaur moves. 

You find yourself under him before you can even gasp for air: the soaked, hot body of a giant now pinning you on the grass and crushing you under it with ease. The weight of your error is fully pressed against you: he was never tamed, and you were a fool to think you could put him in chains.

The raw scent of earth and musk fills your nostrils, making the stars above you spin. His cock is trapped between your bodies, giving another rich pulse against your thigh. Gods, if he were throbbing like that inside you…

“You make my skin burn,” he growls into your ear, the heat of his skin now unbearable, the coarse hair prickling your skin from neck to thigh. “My loins, ache…”

“Are you a witch?” He asks, and you finally allow yourself to breathe.

If he only knew… But hexes and charms are of no use for you now: the only thing you can do is moan, apparently, as he dives for your neck, planting barbarous kisses on your skin.

Down, down, down he goes, pure avarice driving him to feast on every part of you. You’re too weak to stop him when he searches for the source of your intoxicating scent. Discovering it between your thighs, he dives nose-first into your sex, meeting your core with a hungry grunt.

Your back arcs with pleasure, your nails sink into his back: a funny thing to do when he’s already as close as can be. The trail of crude kisses leads him to your breasts, and you try to keep your whimpers in control, but a gasp erupts when he drags a hot tongue across your nipple. Massive palms close around your tits while you squirm in his hold: he doesn’t seem to be driven by the need to please you; rather, he wishes to study you first, examine how your body reacts to his groping. He leaves your breasts aching and sore, every bite and suck managing to make you wetter and wetter, your cunt screaming for attention by now.

“Gods...” you wriggle on the soft earthen bed, not expecting him to take you with his mouth first.

He withdraws, only a little, but his voice is surprisingly soft.

“Do I hurt you...?” 

“No… But this is not mating…”

“Even I know that much,” he says darkly, and grabs you by the waist, moves you around like a doll until you find yourself on your belly. 

He looks at you from between your thighs, demonic and keen. The broad shoulders force your legs wide apart when he’s seated there, waist-deep in the water, with you hauled to the shore like a siren.

Not a moment is wasted as he pulls you back to him by the hips: you’re drawn to all fours, a hot streak of cum dragging on the inside of your thigh from the cock that meets your skin. He grabs and steadies it with an annoyed grunt, and the fat tip is shoved straight into your folds, your nether lips parted with brute force almost. 

“Guide me.”

His voice is demanding, impatient as he drags the fat head up and down the entrance of your hole, coating his cock with your slick in the process. You wonder if it’s instinctual, if he knows that this is where he should poke and that it will hurt you less if he’s well-oiled. He’s about to rut you into oblivion the instant you tell him where to shove his cock, and the prospect only sends more sap flowing down your thigh.

“There…” you stutter when he finds it, the aching spot that’s leaking profusely. He pushes the head in, not by teasing but by bullying, almost forcing it inside from how tight and unreceptive you are.

“Tighter than my fist,” is his only comment, and it makes you shudder. “I will not last long…”

You wince from the burn, but the rest of it glides in like a dream, and suddenly you’re filled, to the capacity, one could say. He grunts just from the way your womanhood is hugging him, not sure what this foreign object inside you is – is it a good thing or a threat?

“Easy then,” you breathe a huff into the sweet night air, filled with fireflies and night birds who know nothing about the fucking you’re about to go through.

He doesn’t move – inside you, that is. Outside, he crawls forward until he moulds around you, heavy body enveloping you completely. The hairs on his thighs tickle the back of your legs, his chest scrapes your back just so as he demonstrates how you belong to him in every way. But when your cunt starts to squeeze him again, he swallows thickly.

“Does this feel good to you too…?”

You catch faint confusion and concern in his voice, astonished that such a soft, frail body like yours can take his cock just like that. Little does he know you’re still adjusting to his size, thanking all the gods that he doesn’t move yet.

“Yes,” you confess because it does feel good: his thickness inside you, stretching you both gently and violently, studying how it feels to be inside a loving, wet heat.

“Then I will fuck you every day,” his lips come to brush your ear. “Many times...”

You hear yourself whimper, more humble now than ever. No man would dare to take you on all fours, but here you are, like a bought bride about to get stuffed…

He withdraws a little, asks, “Like this?” when he returns with a rough, nasty thrust. The balls meet your mound, heavy on the tender nub you’ve flicked when you’re lonely, covering your mouth while you do it. Both your hands are planted on the ground now, your legs spread before this beast, cunt filled to the brim with his cock.

“Not so rough,” you warn, and he heeds your instructions to the letter until he’s moving in and out with a slow, delicious pace that allows you to feel every thick bump of him. Soaked now down to your thighs, the sounds of your mating is utterly sloppy and slick, and of course he’s curious.

“Are you always like this…?”

“Like… what,” you huff in between the slow, torturous thrusts.

“Soft,” he rasps. “Tight… Wet like rain.”

“No. It’s just when…”

“When you want to fuck?”

You whimper for an answer, mostly because he starts to slip from the agreed sluggish pace. His cock invades you with more urgency, chasing the eruption that must be generous from those thick balls that should belong to a horse.

“I knew it…” he says dreamily behind you. “Some women want to mate with bulls...”

He punctuates his newfound pride with a full, deep thrust, and you wince.

“You’re not a–”

“Keep telling yourself that, little maiden.”

He exhales a hot smile next to your ear, and you’re neck deep in love. Your mouth hangs open, your lids half closed and fluttering from the way he pounds into your poor, abused cunt. Heavy balls slap your swollen nub with careless abandon, making you squeeze his thickness every time he hits the end of you. His grunts become more animalistic with every thrust, and your cunt is a wild thing, leaking and weeping and throbbing until you fear there’s something wrong with you – no woman is supposed to be this needy for a beast…

I’m going to come… You realize in horror as the slick sounds of fucking overthrow even the coursing roar of the waterfall. The knowledge shoots your body full of dark, hot ink; it explodes inside your core like a liquid star, throbbing through your cunt currently being ploughed like you’re nothing but a needy, sloppy hole for him. You’re swimming in so much pleasure that it’s almost painful, the revelation some secret of the gods, no doubt. 

He growls when you moan, heavy arm snaking its way around your middle to keep you in place for him. The purr is eager and low, the rumble erupts from his chest like a thick, loving volcano, a statement of how perfect you are. He nuzzles his nose into your neck and rubs his scent all over you while fucking you through it, the divine rapture that leaves your throat dry from moans. 

He doesn’t need to be told what it means when you’re crying like that: he doesn’t need to be explained that his cock is giving you ample pleasure. It’s so desperate, how much he wants to both fuck and please you, just own you and fulfill you, that you start to shake, your frail body not capable of handling the orgasm he just gave you. 

Your strength fails, and you find yourself on your elbows, cunt even more exposed to him now, the cock pistoning into you with a relentless pace. He’s like a titan upon you, taking pleasure from your quivering, weak frame and the tight wet hole that belongs to it. You’re still in rapture when he starts to sound like broken, wounded man.

“You were made for me,” he huffs. “You were made...for me…”

His voice evaporates along with your thin, adoring mewls, just before he fucks himself over the edge. You can feel the hot, thick spurts, filling you as he roars into your hair, balls pressed flush against your sex, thighs meeting yours in a moment frozen in time. 

They can probably hear him all the way to the city, hear what a cunt like yours does to an invincible beast like him… But his cries are only met with silence; the night sky looks back with disinterest, the birds continue their songs when they notice it was only the roar of a mighty beast that filled the land. Before long, he’s groaning above you, using your hole more softly; loving it until the last drop is milked. 

When he stops, his whole body is trembling from release, but you’re not given a moment of reprieve. He forces you to the ground with him on your back, the rough, thick body never leaving yours. Coarse beard chafes your neck, his body trapping you completely under him, he even opens his jaw to take your shoulder between his teeth and bites you while his cock is still pulsing fat inside you. 

“I can’t get enough of you,” he pants into your ear, angry, almost.

“Good,” you breathe a smile, but he’s not satisfied.

“You couldn’t get enough of me too… I noticed.”

“You gave me pleasure,” you agree. “Lots of it.”

“That was a lot of seed… I haven’t spilled in days.”

He huffs into your ear, astonished and proud that he could do such a thing. You feel him shift to take a better look at you, fingers arrive to graze your temple as if to make sure you’re real, as if having his cock inside you wasn’t enough proof of that. They’re a little shaky, a little uncouth, but the touch is gentle enough, and sweet.

He's boasting again perhaps, you don’t know, but you give him a soft laugh, notice how he stops breathing momentarily when hearing the bright sound.

“I am filled to the brim with you, yes… It will take a while before I can take more.”

“...You have other holes in you,” he offers after a while, quite seriously, in fact. 

“Get off me, you beast,” you huff and squirm to get out from under him, but there’s a luscious grin on your face, a smile that tells him you would more than approve of his obscene ideas later. 

“This feels good,” he murmurs into your hair. “This feels right...”

He allows you to leave from under him, only whines when his cock gets exiled from your cunt. He misses the wet heat like a newborn child misses the womb, but you need to recover from the recent invasion. Seed gushes out from your hole, making a mess on the ground as he pulls you against him, wanting to cuddle you next.

You wonder if he even knows what cuddling means as you lie there with a sticky mess between your legs and the heat of an entire sun on your cheeks. You smile into the coarse, sweaty body hair tickling your nose, deciding it doesn’t matter whether he knows or not: the most important thing is that he wants to hold you like this.

“Yes,” you smile. “This feels right…”

Something blooms in your chest. An odd flower, persistent and sweet. 

The stars above are cold but motherly as they look down on you two: born again into a world that doesn’t want either of you. The only things that accept you now are flowers, birds, the wind and the rain, bees and salty sea, but that’s aplenty. That’s more than the whole of Crete could ever give you.

“Are you thinking about your hero,” he asks above you.

“What? No…”

“Good,” he rasps, so softly now that you start to fear he’s about to cry.

You are more than capable of lying, but Theseus hasn’t crossed your mind in hours: the last time it did, the memory was received with loath and disdain. Thinking about Theseus while you’re draped all over your Bull, his seed flowing out of your womb... What a ridiculous idea. 

The reason for his hardly disguised anger is laid out plain before you: he's just jealous like any other man. Somehow, it makes you feel even more glowy inside.You’re my hero, you want to say, but have no courage to spill out the words. He was balls deep inside you mere moments ago, but telling him this intimate truth seems to be too much.

It never occurred to him, then, that you would enjoy copulating with him. He fucked you with the impression that you needed thoughts of another man to make you wet… That perhaps with the help of the image of Theseus in your mind, you were able to come with his cock inside you. 

“My Bull,” you whisper. “Tell me your name. You must have a name…?”

His breath stops only for a moment, the heart in his chest gives an arduous beat before he answers.

“Asterion.”

Starry one…

Of course.

All monsters have names, usually the opposite of what they’re claimed to be. His birth is in heaven, in the stars; he belongs to the company of heroes and gods.

“Asterion,” you whisper it out into the night air while the animal an man both find their new home in your arms. “Your birth is written in the stars. Did you even know…?”

“Does that make me a hero?” He snorts, more old wounds torn open right before your eyes. 

You wriggle yourself out of his hold, but he avoids your stare. You lift a hand to bring those beautiful Olympian eyes back to you.

“It makes you immortal.”

Perhaps you should’ve known he would be enticed with an apple instead of tethers and deals. Or with a palm, held out with no intent to strike… 

It’s lovely, how he blinks every time he’s confused. You’ve yet to see him shy, but if he ever is, this might be the moment… You even catch him swallowing under that wild facial hair, an awkward blob right after that blink when his birthright is acknowledged.

But even more dumbfounded he becomes when he realizes you’re truly and veritably admiring him. When you whisper it to him – you’re my hero – and watch something shatter in him that was supposed to wrench itself free, that’s when he’s truly granted divinity.

Perhaps it was all about becoming animal again, allowing the other to have a sniff. Baring your throat and embracing the instinct to trust. Marrying your wild soul… The deepest magic of all.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

These Tender Hearts Beat as One

Aemond x widowed!female character

Summary: Aemond reunites with his childhood friend, a former ward of his mother || Word Count: 7k || Warnings: too much fucking backstory lol, p in v sex, breeding kink

Aemond could always tell when his mother was stressed. Out of all her silver-haired children, her second son had seemed the most adept at knowing before she even knew herself. All that remained was for him to discover the root of her worries, and calm her ever-heightening nerves if he could.

When Aemond was stressed, angered or oftentimes merely bored, nothing truly compared to the feeling of riding Vhagar, splitting through the air above King’s Landing to stretch her large, tattered wings. His beloved dragon appreciated the exercise in any case, restless from her days fought in wars, it was some consolation for him that flying was just as therapeutic for her as it was for him.

But when his dear mother was stressed, it was rooted in self-destruction, picking ceaselessly at her fingernails ‘til they were bloody and sore. And though he bit his tongue, not wishing to replicate the behaviour of his grandfather, sometimes it felt near impossible not to say anything, not to ask what was on her mind. So that whatever was swirling around her head with panic, could instead be shared out, and therefore less weight for her to carry.

Had Aegon done something perhaps?

Was there more trouble with Rhaenyra?

Or perhaps his father had said something to upset her, which seemed the most likely. Even in his sickly state, he was still capable of unknowing cruelty.

Even at five and ten, Aemond understood this.

His mother remained quiet, and it was not ‘til he sought out the company of his dear friend, that the truth became clear.

She had been his mother’s ward for little more than three years, and already Aemond had witnessed her enter the Keep as a clumsy, loud child and blossom into what many would consider a young woman already grown, though she was little older than Helaena. 

Her age in comparison to him had never once strained their friendship. In fact, at first, when Aemond was still freshly scarred emotionally by the trauma of losing his eye, he had remembered clapping his lone eye on her and scowling, thinking of her little more than a quarrelsome child. 

And, as Aegon had put it, ‘aggressively annoying’.

Which, at the time, was true enough. And yet it did not deter her from trying, Aemond would allow her the compliment of that.

She was much like him, a child created and born as a sort of secondary plan in case the first did not come to pass. A mere second daughter, and not only that, but bumped even further down the chain by her three older brothers, the eldest already wed with several children of his own. It was made abundantly clear by her own parents that she was merely another nuisance and therefore when placed into the care of the Targaryen royal family, the look of relief on their faces somewhat angered him, coupled by the manner in which they left with a goodbye that rivalled his own father’s attitude towards his children.

His empathy for her situation had drawn him to her, despite his stubbornness in wanting to pretend he did not crave friendship, especially from a girl. And her own stubbornness surprised him when he discovered she did not blindly seek the acceptance of any similar-aged child, she set her sights on Aemond alone and did not relent until eventually, he came to her instead.

He found a camaraderie with her that he had yet to find with his other siblings, feeling very much like friendship with her was more natural and spontaneous, where the ones with his family were calculated, planned and rooted in a cold necessity to keep up appearances. 

Not that she cared much for appearances. 

Her Septa berated her for what seemed like every other day for turning up to her needlepoint lessons with dirtied skirts and stray petals in her tangled hair, all from chasing one another through the bushes of the Keep to find some entertainment. Yet, even in the face of punishment, her smile never faltered, and insisted that it was all a bit of fun.

She somehow managed to inject her bright personality into his otherwise darkened life.

Because of her, there was beauty in everything. There was serenity in sitting in the Godswood and watching the petals settle in the breeze that ran past his neck and made him shiver. There was a startling allure when he introduced her to Vhagar for the first time and her hand ran across her darkened scales, seeing her expression lift in sheer wonder, experiencing her bewilderment as if it were the first time. And there was virtue in the innocence of their relationship, and how his heart began to swell with a childlike sense of belonging in her.

The unconditional power of her friendship he was sure was all he ever needed. In the way she always uttered, dragged away for her lessons in etiquette, but beaming at him.

‘My friendship is always yours,’ she would say, like a mantra.

‘Just as mine shall always be.’

He thought for a long while that he was the most hideous person in this world, not least since Aegon had dragged him to the brothels only a few years before. And yet when he shared a chaste kiss with her under the Weirwood tree. Clumsy and impractical and yet all magical all at once, he thought that when he was older, stronger, he would ask her to be his wife.

Aemond could feel the anxiety seeping off her as soon as he stepped into her chambers. Like she had a lot on her mind but not the courage to open her mouth and say it.

“What is it?”

His heart lurched into his chest when she lifted her head, swallowing her feelings and taking a deep, shaky breath.

“My sister has succumbed to a fever. She is dead.”

Aemond sighed, as if absorbing her grief. But when he took one step forward to comfort his friend, she shook her head, “there is more.”

Her tone of voice alone was enough to set every nerve on edge. Aemond stood as if stuck to the flagstone floor, and realised that the once clumsy, small girl he had once known was acting very much like a young woman now. Worlds apart, despite being stood before her.

“I am to honour the planned betrothal with Lord Lefford, under my father’s orders.”

It was the only moment Aemond remembered wanting to vomit with nausea, he had not felt such churning in his gut even on the day he lost his eye.

She sat, looking at him as if to gauge his reaction to the news, knowing perhaps in her own heart the feelings that were shared between them. And Aemond felt his churning nausea turn to anger, at how easily she had allowed her will to be broken by a command from her father, which in his opinion, she need not obey. She was, after all, a near half a decade younger than her sister, and the man in question older than her own father.

How could she have given up like this so easily.

“You will go through with this?”

He did not mean for his tone of voice to appear accusatory, but when he saw that wide-eyed helpless expression, he knew immediately it had.

“I can hardly argue with my father, Aemond.”

He felt his fists clench hard in his hand, fingernails creating crescent shaped indents in his flesh that reddened, his reply is stiff, “you simply act as if you have no choice in the matter.”

“Not all of us get one.”

“You cannot leave.”

“I must,” she insists, her voice breaking somewhat at the look of disappointment and betrayal on his face, “please do not make this more difficult than it already is, Aemond.”

“I am not the one making this difficult,” he replies flatly, his head throbbing with an incoming migraine, “If you are as much my friend as I am yours, you will not leave me.”

She could feel herself stepping towards him, drawn by some invisible force for comfort that he was not yet providing. She knew he could be capable of being cruel, but to be on the receiving end after all they had gone through was heart-breaking.

And though she was a year his senior, standing so small before him, she felt so much a child.

“Aemond, please-” she begged, reaching out for him and wincing when he pulled away, his brows drawn together in disgust.

“Marry him and I shall never speak to you again.”

Her hand dropped to her side as if limp, as if all life had drained from her body as well as the colour from her face. Her lip quivered, “you can't mean that.”

He looked in her eyes, the raw grief of watching her slip away filling him with an unmistakable bitterness, though for what? Her? Himself? Their friendship? He could not put it into words.

“I mean every word.”

That is the last memory he has of her, looking every bit as broken as he'd intended her to feel. In the days that followed, as her family arrived once more to steal her away, Aemond felt the gnawing grip of regret when he chose not to see her off at the courtyard, watching from his window as she scanned the space around for her good friend's presence and didn't find it.

It was then Aemond began to hate himself for every bit of cruelty enacted against her from him. Her carriage disappeared into the distance until it was nothing, leaving a pit of pain in his heart.

Not a day passed that Aemond did not at least think of her and wait for any correspondence to arrive, with his name etched into the paper in her curved, feminine handwriting.

But as he'd feared, she had taken his words to heart, and no letter ever arrived, and eventually, it felt no use counting the days and moons since he'd last seen her.

The guilt would eat away at him for years, the memory of her pained expression etched into his vision. Even as he grew into a man, it would never fully fade, though he was quick to tell himself that he shouldn’t care, that she was no longer the same girl he had loved so much, not since she chose her own fate.

In an attempt to fill the hole she'd left behind, he busied himself with the sword, intent with some level of obsession at becoming the most skilled swordsman in Westeros. 

Aemond would train for hours at a time, the dull ache deep within him pushed away by the strain of sparring drills and intense workouts with the sword. Though even in the midst of training, his thoughts would always be in the back of his mind, taunting him with the guilt that he felt, the shame of how he had treated her at the end.

By itself, it was not enough, but even burying his nose in books did not blur that heavy ache. But it did not mean he could not at least try.

Which is why he sighed in annoyance as he sat by the fireplace in his chambers, a large tome opened in his lap and two knocks rapped at the door.

“Enter.”

He did not tear his attention away as the maidservant entered with a short and quick curtsy, hands clasped, “Your grace, Queen Alicent has requested your presence.”

That alone was enough to draw his attention away from his reading. His mother did not request him for a small matter.

He had wondered if perhaps Aegon had managed to slip out of the Keep again, for yet another one of his excursions into Flea Bottom, and send him to retrieve his brother.

Perhaps his mother finally thought enough time had passed and he was much of a man to suggest a marriage proposal. For some reason, the thought made him ill.

“Thank you, Ser Criston,” he heard his mother say in a muffled tone once he was announced.

Aemond raised his gaze to his mother, relieved to see her calm, and dare he say, happy.

“Aemond,” she greeted softly, her smile gentle and her touch on his arms comforting, “do not look so forlorn.”

“You wished to see me.”

“I did,” Alicent beamed, clasping her hands at her front, “Come.”

He could not help but give a puzzled expression as he walked beside his mother through the winding halls of the Keep, wondering perhaps why her behaviour was so different than usual. A sort of anxiety fed through her, but not the self-destructive kind. 

“We are to receive some guests today. I would like you to greet them.”

Aemond quirked a brow, confused and somewhat annoyed in equal measure, “I am not accustomed to greeting-”

“They have travelled a long way, so remember to be courteous,” Alicent added, flashing one of her tight-lipped smiles, which only served to confuse Aemond further. His mother led him to the top of the staircase of the empty, echoing foyer and instructed quickly, “do be a gracious host, Aemond.”

He did not have a mere moment to question her, before he was watching the back of his mother disappear down the very same hallway they had just walked together. All he managed was a baffled shake of his head, as if by some miracle this was all some mad dream he had conjured. He questioned why on earth his mother would allow him to greet these esteemed guests alone, out of all her antisocial children.

But ever dutiful, he descended the stairs, hearing the low voice of Ser Westerling greeting whomever was arriving in a warm, formal tone, with their silhouettes casting blurred shadows onto the flagstone floor. Aemond’s feet were planted firmly on the step without even realising it.

This esteemed guest was no stranger to him.

Though the years had matured her gracefully, Aemond is sure he would recognise her anywhere, as she looked every bit the same as that day he regretted seeing her carriage leave King’s Landing. She stood tall, her cape fastened at her front with her house crest nestled in the middle, her dark skirts framing her womanly figure as her eyes trailed the details of the Keep that had changed since she had last been there.

Aemond stared wordlessly, the emotions so long buried resurfacing as if they had never left. His breath felt hot, his mind struggling to accept what his lone eye beheld before him. That she was here after so many years separated, in the very flesh, and yet he was unable to utter a single word.

She wandered about the space, commenting to the young woman beside her, who carried a child no older than three in her arms, how it had all looked so much larger in her youth. So he took this moment where she had not yet noticed him to look upon her with wonder, frozen entirely in place with the unexpectedness of her return. His mind raced with the thoughts of what this meeting could mean, for him, for her, and for their future; and he could not deny the strong tug of guilt in his chest for how he had treated her all those years ago, and how her renewed presence only made them more real.

Clearing his throat as he approached, the lady beside her noticed him first, “Prince Aemond,” she greeted with a curtsy, prompting her also to lay her eyes on him once more.

“Your grace,” she smiled warmly with a quick curtsy, with such a formality that made his heart ache.

He craned his head to bow lightly at her, “My Lady,” he replied with some stiffness, before gazing once more into her friendly, soft eyes and allowing his shoulders to relax, “I wondered perhaps if you would recognise me.”

Her laugh made his stomach flip, “I do not think I could ever forget you. Though I must confess, I wondered the same for myself.”

Her smile could not be described as anything less than perfect and a feeling that he harboured for her so long ago began to creep back in before he could stop it, “my Lady, I must apologise right away.”

But she shook her head, looking down at her hands, “it was a long time ago.”

He did not wish to upset her further by mentioning such an incident that had harmed his pride since, but knew that her memories of it were just as vivid as his own, “And I have not forgotten. You did what was expected for a lady in your position, and yet I was too selfish to understand that at the time. Please forgive me.”

He could not take the desperation out his tone, no matter how hard he tried. And still, she smiled sadly at his words.

“You must know that I did not wish to leave you.”

“I do,” he replied quickly, the memories of his guilt burning a hole in his throat, trying to hide the bitterness he felt towards himself, “I must confess - I have missed you greatly.”

Her hands clasped at her front, she blinked slowly and swallowed thickly, “I have missed you too.”

The silence stretched between them. Years of separation and longing had left them both yearning, but lacking the courage of knowing what to say. Aemond cleared his throat, his hands behind his back with anxiety, seeing that her ‘favoured’ husband was still not yet present.

“Are we to receive your husband as well?” he asked with some stiffness, or perhaps bitterness.

She cocked her head ever so slightly, eyebrows pulled together in confusion, until a small smile of realisation graced her features, “I regret to inform you I am recently widowed.”

In any other situation, Aemond would have been mortified at her reply. But with her smile came a rush of realisation himself, and hope swelled in his heart, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot, hoping to all the gods that she could not see the way his thought ran wild in his head, and made his breeches tighten, “Widowed-” 

“Indeed. I am sorry to disappoint you, my Prince. In truth, I have just come out of mourning,” she nodded, biting back another coy smile, showing in her mannerisms that it was no great loss to her.

“I am sorry for your loss, my Lady.”

She shook her head softly, “my husband left a suitable will, so that my child and I live comfortably and so there is no need for me to pursue future marriages should I not wish to.”

Her careful wording was not lost on him, and Aemond could not help the sense of glee at this new and recent change in her life, the bitter anger at having lost her to some decrepit old man years previous seemingly dissipating. And yet despite this, he attempted to keep it hidden, not wishing to seem disrespectful to her late husband.

“Might I present you my daughter,” she added, taking the child from the woman beside her into her own and resting the shy young girl on her hip. The child’s wide-eyed innocent expression unapologetically took all of Aemond in, as children often do, and he was reminded very much of his dear friend when she was small.

She was the image of her mother, save for the slightly lighter hair, with every feature of her etched into her daughter’s youthful face. And the reality of such similarities made him feel both joy and sorrow all at once.

“She is beautiful.” His voice was quiet, seeing the child in her arms was shy and reserved, unlike her mother, but thankful somewhat that her little one was not in the slightest alike to the man she had been forced to marry. Looking into the eyes of her child felt much like staring at the girl he once knew, and with that, a rush of affection.

Aemond thought, that in different circumstances, this child could have been theirs, a shared expression of their affections for one another. That all those years ago, had her father not coerced her into honouring her late sister’s betrothal, that she and Aemond would have their own children by now.

Before he could think too long, the small girl whined in her arms and she put her down immediately, the little patter of childish feet nearly had Aemond break into a grin, watching her run off with the nursemaid chasing behind.

“I am afraid she is a curious little thing. Like mother like daughter I suppose”, she smiled brightly.

Aemond nodded, the rush of memories bringing a wistful smile to his face, “Like mother like daughter,” was all he managed to reply, watching the mischievousness unfold. Yet, once the child and the nursemaid had left them alone, she chuckled softly, feeling his heartbeat slow in pace with hers.

“May I confess something to you, without fear of judgement?” Aemond asked, his heart thudding as she nodded in return, “You may think me foolish, but I must confess that my mind still lingers on the memories of our time together, and I have found no way to erase the feelings they carry with them - your return to King’s Landing has only reinforced them,” he confessed, looking into her warm gaze, “for now, when I look at you, I cannot help but feel just as I did then.”

He watched her swallow thickly, and take a deep, meaningful breath, like what she was going to say would be heavy, “and, what feelings are those, might I ask?”

His heart felt as it was beating so fast it was cracking his ribs, throat closing with anxiety. The feelings he had tried so hard to hide with a mask of bitterness now overflowing with terrifying intensity. Yet, to say such feelings out loud to her, someone he had trusted so much in his youth, made it feel all the more real. And as he stared into her eyes, he wanted nothing more than for her to share them, despite their years of absence from one another.

“That I love you - and have from the moment I met you.”

The words came out quickly, and as soon as he uttered them he felt his cheeks grow hot, knowing her response was either one way or the other and that he, a man so long disconnected from his own feelings, hiding them with his pride for so many years, was now opening up his vulnerability. 

He wanted her to love him. So desperately.

She sighed quietly in relief, “I have loved you as well. And I was saddened to have left you - and will forever be vehemently sorry for that.”

Though his relief was palpable, but he shook his head first, “You were right then, and always have been, that you had no choice or opinion in the matter. Therefore, I will accept no apologies.”

Her eyes glistened with emotion at his words, and when Aemond stepped forward and took her cheek in his palm, her breath hitched in such a way he was sure they would spill forth in tears. But the strong person she had always been, she held them back.

“I feared - you would not desire me,” she confessed quietly. 

Aemond smirked, “It may take more than a few years of separation to extinguish what was once there. I have loved you since that day beneath the Weirwood Tree, and I will love you until this life ends and the next one begins.”

She gave a watery smile at his sweet words, “though I have been wed once already with a child?”

He was silent for a moment as he considered her question, and not a bit of him even wondered whether it were possible, “my love is no fickle thing,” he smiled, “in time I hope I may become as close as a father to her as I may become a husband to you.”

He watched as her unshed tears formed a constellation on her eyelashes, but a relieved smile graced her delicate features. Aemond could not remember the last time he had been this close to her, able to detect the delicate scents brushed through her hair and the way her cheeks warmed at the close proximity between them, and undeniable tension.

The thought of kissing her, having her to himself, made something arousing tighten in his breeches, to his embarrassment.

He drew in a breath, leaning forward to capture her lips, but both drew back a pace suddenly.

“My Lady! Would you care to join us for supper this evening,” Alicent smiled brightly, as if knowing some great secret seeing them both stood straight and blushing. And she had to take a moment to think and stammer out her reply,

“Oh - yes, I would be delighted-”

“Wonderful! I shall see you to your chambers,” the Queen beamed, giving Aemond a sideways glance as the two women he most respected in life walked alongside one another.

He felt as if the entire evening was a true test of his will and determination. Aemond is certain Alicent meant no ill will by inviting the woman he unequivocally loved to supper with his family; but as he sat beside her, remembering how close he had been just a few hours before, it was almost as if everyone around him was aware and simply dangling the situation in front of his face.

And he cursed any god that existed that Aegon was not drowned in his cups that night, as he usually was. On this night, he was frustratingly lucid and hyper-aware.

Helaena, at first, was impartial to the sudden get-together, but as soon as she and Helaena saw one another, it was as if no time at all had passed. They were, of course, the same age when she had been his mother's ward, and as well as with Aemond, had formed a close friendship.

The princess was of course eager to catch up, and even invited her up to dance, to which she happily obliged as Aemond watched from his spot at the table. It was nice to see Helaena happy for a change.

A sorrowful thought had occurred to Aemond that both his friend and Helaena were pressured into marriages and motherhood far too young. And seeing them very much acting like young girls with one another, only exacerbated this feeling.

They talked quickly with excitement, planning to have their children meet up with one another and play in the gardens. And while they were engrossed in conversation, Aegon slid next to his brother, with a knowing smirk on his face.

“She is just as animated as I remember,” the young prince smirked, raising his eyebrows at Aemond over the rim of his cup.

“I will hear none of your depravity about her.”

Aegon threw him a faux-offended expression, “I had not even got there yet. Do you have such a low opinion of me?”

Aemond ignored him and sipped his own Dornish Red.

“You wish to marry her.”

“And you are perceptive.”

“Gods, I love it when you compliment me.”

“And insufferable.”

“What makes you think grandfather will allow you to marry her anyway? He's a dry old cunt, he will not care if you love her or not. He would have you wed to some plain-faced twat from who-knows-where.”

For one infuriatingly brief moment, Aemond had to concede that Aegon was probably right. And with one restless finger tapping against the table, he glanced over at his mother and grandfather suspiciously squished together on one end of the table, leaning towards each other and whispering in low voices, with Otto Hightower looking at his beloved friend from beneath his brow.

They were talking about her. Discussing her. And by the expression on his grandfather, analysing her.

Aemond felt his heart beat faster at the prospect that they were speaking so secretively about her without her knowledge. It seemed a stark contrast to the way the two women on the other side of the table were laughing and smiling brightly, something so rarely seen on Helaena’s face nowadays.

“She is no maiden, that is for certain. Though if you are lucky, perhaps only the first three inches of her have been tainted by Lefford’s withered old cock.”

Aemond wrinkled his nose at Aegon’s depraved quip, despite his somewhat polite request for him not too. Perhaps he’d expected too much courtesy from his elder brother. Or perhaps, more likely, with the exciting renewed presence of Lord Lefford’s widow, Aegon felt the need to perform, and exaggerate his usual unfortunate traits of his personality.

“‘Tis almost as worse as our dear sister being wed to me.”

“I am certain there is nothing worse than that,” Aemond replied quickly, behind the rim of his cup, failing to keep his gaze from forever drifting to the figure of her from across the candles and ornaments.

Aemond found himself captivated by the way she moved, the subtle grace in her gestures that spoke volumes of the woman she had become. Gone was the innocence of youth, replaced by a quiet strength and resilience that only seemed to enhance her beauty. He couldn't help but notice the way her laughter rang out like music, filling the room with warmth and light. It was a sound he had missed more than he cared to admit, a reminder of simpler times when they were just children with the world at their feet.

But now, as he watched her twirl across the dance floor with Helaena, there was something undeniably magnetic about her presence. It was as if she had blossomed into a flower, her petals unfurling to reveal a depth and complexity that left him breathless.

He attempted not to move too quickly once the festivities were over, afraid of showing her in his actions his desperation to be close to her as he offered his arm, “might I see you to your chambers, my Lady?”

She gave a shy smile that morphed into one of amusement, and Aemond is sure he felt something akin to that stomach-flipping sensation when he was flying out on Vhagar when her hand rested on the inside of his forearm, “Very well.”

Aemond chose to ignore the low snicker of his elder brother, showing him his back instead, with the woman he loved on his arm.

“You are aware I know this Keep better than I do my own home, and am perfectly capable of finding my chambers myself?” she said with a teasing lilt.

Aemond couldn't help but chuckle softly, the sound echoing in the empty corridor. "Forgive me, my Lady. It seems my chivalry gets the better of me in your presence."

Her laughter rang out, filling the silence with warmth. "Chivalry or a desire to prolong our conversation, Prince Aemond?"

He felt a surge of joy at the playful banter, grateful for the opportunity to spend even a few moments alone with her. "Perhaps a bit of both, my Lady. Though I must admit, the thought of your company is a temptation I find hard to resist."

She looked at her feet, as if to hide the rising warmth to her face, “I must confess, it is nice to once again be somewhere familiar, with the company I admire most. When my husband was alive it could often get rather lonely.”

Aemond fell quiet for a moment, swallowing thickly, trying to navigate his feelings in the midst of a difficult situation, “I hope that he was kind to you.”

She glanced up at him, her eyes revealing a depth of gratitude that stirred something within him. "He had his moments," she admitted with a small smile, "but kindness was not his strongest suit. Still, I suppose I cannot fault him entirely. He provided for me in his own way."

Aemond could sense the underlying weight in her words, the unspoken struggles she had endured beneath the facade of mere cordiality. He didn't need to ask to know that her late husband had been less than supportive.

"You deserve far more than just provision, my Lady," he said earnestly, his gaze unwavering as he spoke.

Aemond could almost feel his heart sink as he had realised they were stood before her chamber doors, her hand slipping from his arm, and yet a fire stoking fierce then at the thought of an invitation inside.

She clasped her hands delicately, her warm eyes meeting his with a gentle intensity. "I couldn't help but notice Queen Alicent and the Lord Hand engaged in such ceaseless conversation," she remarked, her voice soft and thoughtful. "I do not wish to presume—"

Aemond, catching the subtle implication in her words, swiftly interjected, "I cannot claim to know their exact sentiments." His gaze met hers, offering reassurance without a hint of desperation. "But I refuse to allow something as trivial as their approval to deter me. I've already endured the pain of losing you once."

There was a quiet determination in his voice, a resolve that mirrored the fire in her own eyes. In that moment, they shared an unspoken understanding, a mutual agreement to pursue their feelings despite the potential obstacles that lay ahead.

She nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Your courage is admirable, Prince Aemond. But we must proceed cautiously. The court is a web of intricate politics, and our actions could have far-reaching consequences."

Her words were crafted in such a way that reminded him of her personality in their youth, understanding of the repercussions and yet boldly standing tall in the face of them. And with her small, mischievous smile, he knew all the same that whatever she uttered was only done so to extend her cordiality.

"I understand," he replied, his tone tinged with determination. "But I cannot ignore what my heart tells me."

"Nor can I," she admitted softly, her gaze meeting his with a mixture of vulnerability and resolve.

Silence settled between them for a moment, the weight of their unspoken desires hanging in the air. Then, with a subtle shift in her demeanour, she turned towards her chamber door. Without a word, she reached out and gently pushed it open, leaving it ajar. A silent invitation hung in the air, enticing Aemond to step inside.

Aemond's heart skipped a beat as he watched her gesture, his pulse quickening with anticipation. Without hesitation, he took a step forward, drawn irresistibly towards the open door and the promise of privacy within.

With a shared glance filled with unspoken understanding, Aemond turned towards her chamber doors, crossing the threshold into the privacy of her chambers, where their hearts could speak freely without the constraints of the outside world.

She spoke quietly, her face illuminated warmly by the soft flicker of candlelight. "I hope you do not think less of me for this," she murmured, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "You can imagine, for me there is no great ceremony in it."

Aemond's heart swelled with tenderness at her words, his gaze filled with an understanding that transcended mere words. "I could never think less of you," he replied softly, his voice brimming with sincerity.

Aemond slowly closed the distance between them, their expressions never wavering, his steps deliberate yet gentle. He reached out, his hand cupping her face tenderly, as he gazed into her eyes with an intensity that spoke of his deep affection. In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them suspended in a timeless embrace. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across their intertwined figures, bearing witness to the union of two souls bound together by love and longing.

Her lips parted to whisper, “I do not wish for you to do all of this out of guilt-”

She caught herself when his thumb traced her cheek, waiting for him to answer, “I do not make this bid out of remorse. I wish to be with you, and I wish to make you mine.”

Aside from the crackling heat of the fire within the hearth, her breath was all that was audible between them, coming heavier from between her lips as his thumb feathered down her cheek and to her bottom lip, caressing the skin there. After that, he felt her eyelashes against his cheek flutter when he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers with a tenderness usually unbecoming of his personality.

Years of longing had each of them pressing closer to each other, lost in the sound of their soft kisses, and Aemond felt his clothing below his waist become tight with need once he caressed her tongue with his and pried her lips apart like the petal of a flower and tasting the sweet nectar within.

Her hands that had found his shoulders slid over the sleek leather to his front, tenderly and gingerly pulling the buckles apart to loosen his doublet. Her actions, instead of spurring embarrassment, renewed a deep-rooted vigour beneath, and Aemond’s new task was to pull at the laces of her dress behind her, and pull the fabric that had hidden her body from him.

He felt her shiver, pulling the heavy dress from her shoulder to pool at her waist, pushing them as fervently off her as he was able, “was he at least good to you,” Aemond asked in a whisper, his breath hot at her neck while she pulled at the laces of his breeches. 

“I do not wish to speak of him,” she answered with determination and confidence, but a breathless, wanton whisper herself, wanting nothing more than to consummate years of harboured affections masked by friendship, “I only want you.”

Her words had his heart stutter in his chest, pulling her now almost bare form atop him as he sat back onto the bed, with her hair loosened like this and her shoulders blossoming with gooseflesh, he found that he was incapable of keeping his hands at his sides and explored the shape of her feminine body beneath the shift she wore. 

Even the sheer motion of her brushing against his hardened member and her breasts filling his palms could have been enough for Aemond, but there was no returning at this point. She sighed against his lips as his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her shift to ruck the thin fabric up around her hips, squeezing the flesh of her thighs to pull her closer onto his lap.

Warmth bloomed at her cheeks, but it did not deter her as she reached between them and smiled at Aemond’s loud moan, stroking his rapidly hardening length in her palm, focussing her attention towards the velvety tip. 

She lifted herself in his lap, fingers threaded at the hair at his nape as if to anchor herself to him, and both sighed with the utmost relief of their union once he pressed himself into her, and she sank her warmth onto him, enveloping him with her body. Her lips parted at the stretch, somewhat prepared and yet the intrusion still stealing the air from her lungs.

Foreheads pressed together, Aemond's hands gripped her at her waist, pushing his hips up into her as hard as he could to sink deeper inside her, “I have dreamt of this - for so long - being with you like this -” 

A faint sheen glimmered on her collarbones as she slowly moved her hips on him, Aemond's legs parted somewhat, widening hers and opening her up more so he could rock up into her with her rhythm. The closeness of their position had the blunt head of his cock massage that sensitive patch within, her eyebrows knitted together in sweet pleasure.

“That's it -” he cooed quietly, almost watching the way she moved with admiration and curiosity, her tight, silky walls squeezing his length with every thrust of herself down. He felt her arousal coat the base of him, and the sound of their ever-quickening coupling filled the otherwise quiet chambers.

She held onto his shoulders, the amber glow of the fireplace picturing her expression in the most arousing way Aemond had ever imagined. Pulling her shift down her chest, he groaned lowly at the sight of her breasts and took one in his palm and mouthed at the other, taking her stiffened nipple between his lips in a way that made a shuddering moan slip past her lips.

“Gods - I would adore to watch you swell with my child - would you like that -”

All she could do was nod feebly, words unable to occupy her mouth where soft, sweet sounds of pleasure were pouring out. Aemond smirked, grazing his teeth over her bud.

“yes, you would like to serve your husband - give him children, wouldn't you - fuck-” his voice strained at the effort it took to hold himself back, his hands sliding down the column of her back to her plump backside, palms gripping tight and guiding her rhythm onto him, over and over.

She moaned loudly, the motion of being pulled back and forth and yet still impaling herself on him driving the fat head of his cock into the deepest and most forbidden parts of her.

“Aemond -”

“And once you have one - I'll fuck yet another one into you - keep you fat with child” his breathing grew ragged and shaky, “- take it - like a good little wife should-”

“Yes - yes-” she breathed quickly, the words slipping out without realising what they were for, her blind acceptance of being his wife, or the rising waves of pleasure coursing white, hot through her body.

He felt her squeezing him and hastened both of her rhythms, dragging her back into his lap and pushing up into her wet heat ceaselessly. Both the numbing ache of her peak and her bud rolling against his body in quick succession had her hands gripping around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck as her limbs flooded with warmth.

“That's it, ābrazyrys -”

“Gods, Aemond-” she squeaked, completely overcome and possessed by the heights of pleasure rolling through her, the endless rhythm of him fucking up into her only prolonging it.

Her tight walls squeezed him so deliciously that Aemond's heart leapt into his throat, completely surprised as he pulsed thickly and spilled within her, his lone eye tightly shut. His own fulfilment had his hips twitching, shallowly pushing his seed into her, and hoping that it took.

Even once he was completely spent and exhausted, softening inside her, neither moved, and he simply felt her tender fingertips at his shoulders in light soft circles, massaging him. And thought, that this is how it always should have been, had he fought for her.

Her breath fluttered against his skin, herself tired in exertion from their shared pleasure.

“I was a fool - for allowing you to slip from my grasp.”

She sat up, to look down at him, her face flushed, hair in messy waves, looking every bit as beautiful as the day he'd lost her.

But she smiled, her finger tracing the pattern impressed on the leather of his eye patch, “you may have been a fool,” she started.

Her finger hooked beneath it, and lifted it away, her expression unchanged as her thumb stroked the indent of the scar at his cheek. Aemond felt his heart soar in a way that almost felt terrifying.

“I never slipped from your grasp,” she uttered gently, “my heart was always yours.”

Aemond brushed her hair from her features, her words sending waves of ecstasy thrumming in his veins.

“Just as mine shall always be.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @emmaisafictionwhore @minholy223

[resu-w-ana]

Merlin noticed it soon after the magic ban was lifted.

Every time someone used magic around Arthur, the king flinched.

Really, Merlin wasn't expecting Arthur to embrace all magic users with love and trust. He really shouldn't do something stupid like that.

He wasn't sure if Arthur knew about his own reaction or not. It hurt nonetheless.

Constant paranoia and perspective to be burned alive took the best of his desire to show people his magical talents. But the freedom was intoxicating, and whatever Arthur was afraid of magic or not, he would never took it's freedom again.

He had enough work as newly appointed Court Sorcerer to not let his magic idle. The knight and Gwen were here to enjoy pretty tricks too.

So Merlin reduced his magic around the king to doing only necessary things.

Making Arthur comfortable were more important than Merlin's desire to enjoy the beauty of magic with his king.

But the problem accrued from where he least expected.

«Why won't you use magic?»

«I- Ehm, It's possible to do without magic just as easy.»

«I saw you moving dinner plate because you were to lazy to stretch yesterday.»

«I thought I was alone! How do you even know that? Were you spying on me?»

«Oh, come on, Merlin. As if you are that interesting. Doors were open, I was just passing by.»

Even if doors were open, Arthur couldn't accidentally catch him, considering the fact, that there was only one way to Merlin's tower.

Arthur's weird explanation aside, the crisis was averted.

Or so Merlin thought. Because Arthur hadn't stopped.

Every time Merlin did something remotely hard by his hand, Arthur asked the same question: «why won't you use magic?»

Now Merlin was the one running out of weird explanations.

He had no desire to explain his reasoning to Arthur, nor asking Arthur for something he clearly wasn't comfortable with.

Merlin even paid attention to king behaviour around magic more precisely, in case it had changed. But no, the flinching was still there.

Contradicting his own reaction, Arthur cornered him with more determination them ever before.

«So tell me, why knights have no idea about yours so called "proper use of magic".»

«Well... They do know very little about proper use of anything. Especially Gwaine.»

«Yeah, Gwaine, who's apple your turned from green to red because he wished for another variety.»

«I-, Merlin started, as Arthur continued:

«Or should I mention fire figures you do for Leon constantly? The story about Lance's and Gwen's dinner table? Gaius' flying potions?"

Merlin felt guilt creeping onto him.

«Do I need to continue? Because I'm cer–»

«No! No! I got your point!»

«So?»

«So...»

«Explain yourself.»

When Merlin still hesitated, Arthur decided to use lethal weapon: «you promised no more secrets.»

Merlin deflated. «It's not a secret.»

«Then tell me.»

«I've noticed you've tensed whatever magic was around. Decided to spare you the trouble.»

«Oh.»

Suddenly, Arthur wasn't angry anymore. He looked sad and... Guilty?

«It's okay» and «I'm sorry» they said at the same time, than stared at each other.

«You have nothing to be sorry for!» Merlin argued.

«It's not nothing and it's not okay!» Arthur replied.

«That's why I didn't want to tell you! Now you feel like you're doing something wrong or not enough or whatever!»

«Well, that's because I do!»

«No, you're not!»

Arthur sighed. «Look, Merlin... You're not wrong, magic does make me nervous. For all my life, every time someone used it, it was with intention to hurt me.»

He stopped, thinking about his next words. «You are an exception. Yours feel safe.»

«Safe?»

«I don't know how to describe it. It feels warm and... safe. I like it. And I like watching you do magic, too.»

«Oh.»

«Yeah.»

«I'm sorry.»

Arthur smiled. «You can repent your crimes by stopping hiding your magic from me,» he said in playfully serious tone.

Merlin smirked. «Of corse, sire. What would you like to watch now?»

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [20]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 19 | Fic Masterlist | Spinoff Masterlist

San bowed his head as he absorbed the Queen's narration of the fourth prince's attempt to steal the general's wife during his absence at war, fearing the wrath of His Majesty and reeling from his own shock. Had he been aware of Prince Yeosang's plans beforehand, the royal secretary might have prevented you from attending the supposed birthday banquet in the first place.

The entire palace staff in the grand hall was startled as the King slammed his hand against the armrest of his throne, "The fourth prince did what?! This is outrageous! I've warned you countless times about spoiling him too much, my Queen."

Rubbing his temples, His Majesty shook his head and let out a heavy sigh, "We'll deal with him later. For now, confine him to his private chambers. He's only allowed in the royal library for his studies. The last thing we need is for him to unexpectedly show up at General Park's wedding and cause chaos."

Lowering her head, Her Majesty conceded, "Yes, Your Majesty. It's my responsibility. I know I should have been firmer with him."

"We're fortunate Lady Park handled the situation gracefully. I can see why Seonghwa is so enamoured with her," The King remarked with a slight smile before addressing San, "Secretary Choi, ensure that all funding for Prince Yeosang is withheld until further notice. Given his rebellious nature, he would likely find a way to disobey orders. Without financial resources, let's see what he can attempt."

As the Queen's lips parted to plead for leniency, His Majesty silenced her with a stern glare, leaving no room for argument. The weight of guilt settled heavily in her chest, a stark reminder of her own role in enabling the prince's behaviour. She couldn't deny that she simply wanted her fourth son to find happiness, but she knew deep down that her indulgence had contributed to his disobedient nature.

With a heavy heart, she reminded herself that this was not even the prince's harshest punishment yet. She could only imagine what further consequences awaited him at the hands of his father.

The royal secretary bowed in acknowledgement, "Yes, Your Majesty. Is there anything else you would like to add?"

The King straightened up, his demeanour shifting as he moved on from the matter concerning his son, "It would be great if you could visit the general's estate and inquire about his well-being on my behalf. Once he's feeling all better, arrange a meeting promptly so we can proceed with his wedding ceremony without delay."

With a final bow, San prepared to take his leave, but before he could depart, the ageing monarch extended a hand to stop him, "Wait, Secretary Choi! There is one last matter," His Majesty interjected, "Please extend my sincere apologies to General Park for my son's behaviour and express gratitude for his dedicated service to the nation. See to it that we cover all his medical expenses."

"Of course, my King."

The royal secretary stood before the entrance of his friend's estate the next day, feeling a slight hesitation before announcing himself. While His and Her Majesty bore some responsibility for the fourth prince's actions, San couldn't shake the feeling of personal responsibility. After all, he had been the one to prepare you for the supposed royal event, unknowingly sending you into the lion's den. He couldn't help but feel like a bad friend to Seonghwa, questioning whether he had done enough to protect the general's wife in his absence.

"I'm sorry to intrude on your moment of reflection, but how much longer do you plan to linger by the entrance, sir?" The private investigator's voice snapped San out of his trance, prompting him to blink rapidly as he recognised the familiar figure leaning against the main gate, eyeing him with curiosity.

Clearing his throat, San composed himself, "O-oh, hello! I, uh... I was just about to enter. It's nice to properly meet you, Investigator Jung. My name is—"

"Royal Secretary Choi San, I know. We're all aware, don't worry! It's an honour to be recognised by you, sir. Come on, you must be here to see General Park. Let me show you to him; Jongho's occupied at the moment," Wooyoung led the way, the secretary noting his talkative nature, "You won't believe what he's up to right now; he's such a peculiar kid. Takes dedication to a whole new level, I'll tell you that..."

At a certain point, San tuned out the rambling, focusing instead on mentally preparing himself to face you and your husband again. Would Seonghwa be displeased with him for not coming to his wife's rescue when she needed it the most? He wouldn't be surprised at all if the general were to be truly upset with him.

Before he could further overthink it, they arrived at the living hall where the couple was seated and engaged in conversation with the famous dressmaker Kim and skilled Physician Jung. Your husband looked up as if sensing his presence, beaming, "Ah, you're here, San! Come join us. We knew you'd be showing up sometime this week. I assume His Majesty has received my letter, yes?"

The secretary was taken aback, to say the least. First of all, he didn't think he deserved the warm welcome, and secondly, he had believed Seonghwa's injury to be severe, so seeing him looking almost back to his usual self shocked him. Though the older man appeared a bit paler than usual, San was primarily relieved to see his friend alive and well. Memories of the panic he had felt upon first receiving news of the general's poisoning flooded back to him.

Oh, thank god he's okay.

Greeting everyone in the hall with a polite bow, he cleared his throat, "You have no idea how relieved I am to see you alright, General Park. But before I deliver His Majesty's message, I feel compelled to offer my apologies to you and Lady Park."

Confusion creased your brow as you asked, "Whatever for, San?"

With a sigh, he admitted, "You're both too kind for your own good. I should have been more vigilant and prevented Lady Park from attending Prince Yeosang's birthday banquet in the first place. If only I had intervened, she wouldn't have gone through—"

You interjected with a gentle chuckle, "Please, don't blame yourself. You couldn't have known. If you had, I'm certain you would have acted to prevent it."

Seonghwa nodded in agreement, adding, "San, you're far too hard on yourself. You have nothing to be sorry for; you've been nothing but a great help to my wife. Now, please, take a seat and join us."

Amidst the comforting smiles around him, the secretary finally eased into his seat. Eunsook promptly served him tea and refreshments, signalling the start of their discussions. San's revelation caught everyone off guard since they had yet to receive word from Mingi: the war had ended, and Ruhon had surrendered. As they exchanged incredulous glances, a wave of relief washed over them, followed by cheers of joy. The general and his wife shared a meaningful gaze, hands clasped together as you exchanged soft smiles. San understood the significance of that moment—the two could finally proceed with the long-awaited wedding ceremony.

The worst is finally over.

Unable to contain his curiosity, San finally inquired about how the general had sustained his injury. Your husband recounted the harrowing experience, his friends visibly wincing as they imagined the scenario. Your heart ached as you listened. Sensing the tension, Yunho jumped in, reassuring everyone that the injury wasn't severe and that with proper rest, Seonghwa would be back to full health in a matter of weeks.

"That's a relief. Once you're feeling better, we'll arrange a meeting with Their Majesties to plan your wedding. That's the main reason His Majesty sent me here today, aside from checking on you," The hall buzzed with excitement, but the general sensed that the secretary had more to say, "Is there something else, San?"

Taking a deep breath, San continued, "The King also wants to extend his sincerest apologies for the fourth prince's actions. As part of his punishment, Prince Yeosang has been confined to his private chambers, and his funds have been frozen. His Majesty is concerned about him causing any disruptions at your wedding."

"Oh, good riddance!" While Hongjoong and Wooyoung clapped with Yunho silently judging them from his corner, you appeared unsettled by the news. Feeling your unease, your husband tightened his grip on your hand and asked, "What's wrong, my love?"

The news of the prince's fate left you with mixed emotions. You felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of him being barred from your wedding. Despite his actions, you couldn't deny that he was still a friend to you and a part of you felt sorry for the struggles he faced all his life due to his birthmark. Understanding the complexities of his situation, you empathised with his confusion and desperation that stemmed from his severe lack of experience with love.

With a small gulp, you turned to your husband, voicing, "Hwa, I... I think I'd still want His Highness at our wedding, if he wished to attend," Surprised looks crossed the faces of everyone in the hall. As you explained your reasoning, they began to understand your perspective. After a moment of contemplation, Seonghwa lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss onto the back of your palm with a reassuring smile, "Fair enough. If that's truly what you want, we'll discuss it with the King."

In keeping with his promise, you found yourself seated beside your husband as you faced His and Her Majesty for the first time a few weeks later, now that he was fully recovered. Sensing your nervousness about the meeting, the royal couple greeted you warmly, swiftly putting you at ease. After exchanging pleasantries, the general wasted no time in making his request.

"My King, we've heard about the punishment for the fourth prince," He began, "But my wife and I would like to request that you at least allow His Highness to attend our wedding if he wishes."

Confusion flickered across His Majesty's face, "You do? But why?" He inquired. The Seonghwa he once knew would have been furious and unforgiving. It seemed Lady Park had a positive influence on him.

Feeling it was only right for you to respond since it was your personal request, you gathered your thoughts before speaking.

"Your Majesty, I understand that Prince Yeosang's actions may seem outrageous from an outsider's perspective. However, I believe His Highness has endured a painful life, facing discrimination due to his birthmark. It's clear he mistook kindness for love, given his limited experiences. Despite his mistakes, he remains a dear friend to me. It would be meaningful to have him at our celebration, if he chooses to attend. I hope you can understand, Your Majesties. I apologise if I've spoken too much and am overstepping boundaries."

As your words sank in, a wave of introspection washed over the King. For the first time, he found himself reflecting on his relationship with Yeosang. Had he been too harsh on his son? Had he failed to understand the pain his son bore due to his birthmark? The King couldn't shake the feeling of guilt as he realised that he may have viewed his son more as a burden than a beloved child. Perhaps there were times when he had even considered the prince's refusal to marry as a personal affront.

The sudden realisation left the King feeling conflicted and remorseful. He wondered if he had been a horrible father, too absorbed in his duties as a monarch to truly understand his son's struggles. It was a sobering moment for him, realising that he may have overlooked his son's pain and loneliness. Was this why the Queen had been so persistent in advocating leniency towards Yeosang? Was she trying to make up for his shortcomings as a father? These questions weighed heavily on his mind as he grappled with his newfound awareness of his own failings.

His and Her Majesty exchanged a meaningful glance. Suddenly, they understood why the fourth prince would mistake his gratitude towards you for love. After all, you had shown him a kindness and compassion he had rarely experienced, even from his own family.

Beginning to feel anxious at the royal couple's silence, you awaited their response with bated breath, with Seonghwa ready to support you if needed. To your relief, they smiled warmly at you.

"Please don't apologise for that, Lady Park," They reassured you, "You're right; perhaps we've been too harsh on him all this while. If having him at your wedding is what you wish, we shall allow it."

"Thank you, Your Majesties."

The Queen sighed softly before adding, "But whether or not he wishes to attend is ultimately his decision. Let's hope he chooses to join us for your sake."

You nodded in understanding, "Of course, I completely understand."

As the preparations for your wedding ceremony unfolded, time seemed to pass in a blur. Traditionally, weddings entail two parts: the first at the bride's home, where the couple honours her ancestors and family, and the second at the groom's home for the same purpose. However, due to your circumstances, with no family home for you and Seonghwa having little connection to his parents or ancestors, your wedding would be simplified, taking place solely within the palace grounds, where the royal family would also be able to attend, given that most of them are not allowed to leave the place.

In no time, you found yourself comfortably seated in one of the palace chambers, which had been graciously lent to you for the day. Hongjoong immediately began working on perfecting your look, with Eunsook and a team of palace maids assisting him.

You couldn't help but marvel at the exquisite hanbok now adorning your figure. Unlike the traditional red hanbok worn by most brides, this one was a stunning combination of white and gold. It was a testament to the dressmaker's dedication to his friend's request to make you the most beautiful woman in all of Joseon.

Instead of the usual red flower, Hongjoong meticulously painted a gold flower on your forehead to complement your exquisite hanbok. You admired how perfectly it matched your outfit and the gold accessories adorning your hair. While part of you wondered if it was appropriate to outshine the royals, as the dressmaker had emphasised countless times, another part of you chose to revel in the admiration you would receive. You couldn't believe how far you'd come from being the scared girl who once endured disdainful glances and disrespect before marrying Seonghwa.

Reflecting on your journey, you felt grateful for the twists and turns that had brought you to this moment. Perhaps Jinjoo was right; you were quite thankful to your family for orchestrating your union with the general. Without them, you wouldn't be here, basking in the happiness you had finally found.

I guess we're even now, father.

Noticing your silence and distant gaze in the mirror's reflection, the dressmaker lightly nudged you on the shoulder, "Well? How do you like this look, my lady? Please don't tell me you're having second thoughts about standing out now. I've spent the past month working tirelessly on this hanbok—"

You giggled and offered a soft smile to your friend, "Don't worry, Hongjoong. It's perfection. For once, I think it's okay for me to outshine even the princesses. After all, it's my wedding ceremony, and I'll only be getting married once."

His grin widened proudly as he saw you slowly shedding your old self, no longer the timid girl he first met, "Damn right, it's perfection. I create only that and nothing less," He joked before turning serious, "Listen, I just want you to know how proud I am of you. Seonghwa's a dear friend to me, and I honestly would've thrown a bigger tantrum than he did if he had been arranged to marry some spoiled brat. You don't know how happy I am that you've found each other. But if that idiot does anything to upset you again, you better tell me."

You chuckled through your tears, your throat tightening at his heartfelt words, "You bet I will. Thank you, Hongjoong."

He panicked when he noticed your wet eyes, "Hey, hey, hey. Don't you dare start crying, woman. If you cry, I'll cry too. And trust me, that's not a good look for either of us. Plus, you can't ruin your makeup!"

His jest seemed to do the trick, eliciting another round of laughter from you. Fussing over you one last time, he noticed the palace staff at the entrance signalling it was time for you to be on standby. Gently grasping your shoulders, he beamed at you like a proud father, "Are you ready, Lady Park?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

With the nervous beat of your heart echoing in your ears, you were guided to the main hall, where the rituals would soon unfold, with Eunsook at your side. Hongjoong had departed after ensuring you looked flawless, joining the other wedding guests. As you reached the waiting area, where final checks would be made before your grand entrance and your first meeting with your husband today, your steps faltered.

While the head maid busied herself tidying your hair and smoothing the creases in your hanbok, you gulped, "Eunsook, t-tell me... this isn't a dream, is it?"

The elderly woman giggled, gently taking hold of your hands, "Are you still asking me that, mistress? Do you remember the first time you asked me that question?"

You nodded, reminiscing about the first time you had allowed the maids to bathe you after Seonghwa had discovered your scars. So much has changed since then. Though you weren't the same person you once were, a small part of you still harboured a fear that this all might be too good to be true. It felt like a long dream, and you couldn't shake the worry that you would one day wake up back in the hellhole you once called home.

Giving your hand a comforting squeeze, she smiled, "Well, I'm here to reassure you once more that this is all very real. Perhaps you fear losing the happiness you've found and you're not alone in that. Master feels the same way, so do all of us at the estate. We all fear losing the happiness that you've brought into our lives. I hope you haven't forgotten what I've said to you: you are our light and our hope. You're incredibly important to all of us. You still are, and always will be."

"She's right, you know?"

A familiar deep voice interrupted, startling both you and Eunsook as an unexpected figure appeared behind you. Surprised, you turned to find Prince Yeosang standing there, arms casually intertwined behind his back, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed your reaction.

"Y-Your Highness?" You stammered, half-expecting his absence.

He continued, "You should've seen General Park earlier as they got him dressed. All he cared about was how you were doing. I guess that's what you meant by true love, huh? I wish it were just a dream for me, but it's not. So, don't you worry, Lady Park, this is all very real. I didn't give up on you for you to doubt this reality. Please make my choice worth it and be happy, okay?"

Relief flooded through you, reassured by his acceptance of your new chapter, "I promise I will make it worth it. Thank you, my prince, for choosing to be here today and for your kind words." You replied, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

He grinned in response, "Of course, wouldn't miss my first and only friend's wedding for the world," With a playful wink, he gestured towards the palace staff entering to usher you out, "Now hurry and get out there, don't make him wait any longer."

At last, all is right in the world.

Returning his smile with gratitude, you took a deep breath before stepping forward. As you walked out, you felt a newfound readiness wash over you. You were prepared now; ready to formally be wedded to Park Seonghwa, not out of obligation, but out of pure love for him. You were ready to be the wife he needed, the shoulder he could lean on when the weight of his responsibilities grew heavy. You were ready to be his home, his refuge, ready to be everything to him, just as he was everything to you.

As Seonghwa stepped out from his side of the waiting area, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of you approaching from the opposite end. Each time he laid eyes on you, he thought you couldn't possibly become more beautiful, yet you continued to prove him wrong. Hongjoong had outdone himself once again; you looked more majestic than any royalty he had ever seen.

You stood out among the crowd, exuding grace and elegance in your one-of-a-kind hanbok. As you glided toward him, he felt overwhelmed by your beauty. But it wasn't just the general who was stunned; every guest at the ceremony had their jaws drop in awe at your ethereal appearance. Those seeing you for the first time now realised the whispers and rumours about your beauty were true. Truly, you looked like an angel descended from the heavens.

As the rituals unfolded, requiring you and Seonghwa to stand across from each other and perform a series of bows as instructed by the wedding officiator, each gesture symbolising a different aspect of your commitment to each other, you both remained focused on each other. Despite the lengthy and tedious proceedings, all you could see was one another as you patiently waited for it all to be over.

The guests cooed in anticipation as it was time for you and your husband to exchange a cup of wine, the act symbolising longevity and fertility. You blushed lightly as you heard Wooyoung among the crowd squealing, only to be smacked silent by Jongho and Yunho who stood by his side.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the seemingly endless rituals were concluded. You and the general bowed together a few more times: once to His and Her Majesty, once to the gods, and once to the guests. With that, the ceremony was complete, and you could finally bask in the joy of being officially united as husband and wife.

After the two of you expressed gratitude to the King and Queen for their assistance in making the wedding possible, the feast began. As neither you nor Seonghwa had any family present, you were naturally surrounded by your closest companions, the guys. Your husband took the opportunity to introduce you to the only friend of his whom you had yet to meet.

Grateful for his presence, you smiled warmly at the strategist, "Thank you for always looking out for my husband, Officer Song."

Mingi grinned bashfully, his cheeks tinged with a slight blush. He still seemed taken aback by your beauty, "Not at all, my lady. It's General Park who has been looking out for me all this while."

Seonghwa smirked knowingly, giving the taller man a playful nudge, "Thanks again for coming, man. A little birdie told me you've reunited with a special someone. Can we expect a wedding invite soon?"

The guys around the table teased with mischievous oohs as Mingi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "I don't know, hyung-nim. I'm working on it. But let's not talk about me, it's your big day!"

Hongjoong, however, wasn't having it, "Oh, come on, don't you dare change the subject! We need details about this mysterious lady!" He insisted, eager for gossip. The other guys excitedly chimed in, urging the officer to spill the beans about the royal physician who had captured his attention for years.

Amidst their playful interrogation of Mingi, you glanced around the room, curious to see if the fourth prince was still present. Catching sight of him, you noticed he was discreetly making his way toward the exit. Sensing your gaze, he turned, meeting your eyes. He offered you a genuine smile and a final nod before vanishing from view.

May happiness find you, Your Highness.

The remainder of the ceremony proceeded seamlessly, thanks to the meticulous arrangements made by the palace staff. As night fell, you returned to Seonghwa's private chambers, where the two of you would share a meal and some drinks before... going to bed. Your heart pounded with nervousness, fully aware of the significance of the evening; you would both be expected to consummate your marriage tonight.

"My love, are you feeling alright?" You blinked rapidly, coming back to reality as your husband waved his hand in front of your face to grab your attention. You nodded quickly and resumed eating, trying to appear casual, "Y-yes, I'm fine, Hwa. Don't worry about me."

But the general was more perceptive than you realised. He could sense your unease, especially as the meal was drawing to a close. With a soft smile, he set down his wine glass and reached to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "Why do you bother lying to me, you silly girl? Did you think I would be disappointed in you?"

He knew he had guessed correctly when your chewing momentarily paused. Shifting his hand to cup your cheek, he gently guided you to meet his warm gaze, "What do you take me for, hm? We don't have to do anything tonight if you're not ready. I can wait, I'll wait for as long as you need," With a tender kiss on your forehead, he rose from his seat, "I'll get the maids to prepare the House of Lotus for you."

Feeling deeply touched by his understanding, you realised how foolish you had been to once fear the possibility of him hurting you. Truthfully, it wasn't that you didn't want to deepen your intimacy with him; rather, you were scared. He would be the first man to see all of you, every scar on your body, and you feared what he might think, feared letting him down. But his love for you reminded you of his kindness and brought you a newfound confidence.

Before he could leave, you panicked and reached for his wrist, stopping him in his tracks, "No, Hwa, please don't. I want to... I-I want to stay with you tonight."

Kneeling before you, he gently took your hands in his, "Are you sure, my love? You don't have to force yourself—"

You cut him off by pressing your lips firmly against his. He responded almost immediately, and you smiled at the small whine he let out as he chased after your lips when you pulled away. Whispering, you said, "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I want to stay with you, Park Seonghwa. You're not getting rid of me tonight, or ever."

Unable to restrain himself any longer, he immediately captured your lips in a deep kiss, one passionate enough to leave you dizzy. With his guidance, you rose from your seat, your lips still connected, and he lifted you into his arms, carrying you bridal style towards his bed. Both your hearts raced as you broke the kiss to catch your breath, panting as he gently set you down.

Your breath caught as you leaned against the pillows behind you, trapped between his arms as before, reminiscent of the interrupted moment with Hongjoong. However, this time, it wasn't you who halted the moment. The general's gaze turned serious as he locked eyes with you, his voice low, "Last chance. We can still stop if you want to change your mind. Because if we go any further from here, I'm afraid I won't be able to hold myself back."

Cupping his face, you leaned in to kiss him softly, murmuring, "I love you, Hwa." If that wasn't enough to convey your feelings, you guided his hands to the ribbon securing the outer layer of your hanbok, silently granting him permission to undress you.

The first time he had aggressively torn your clothing was a mistake he regretted deeply. Now, he approached it with care, delicately untying the ribbon and holding his breath as he removed the garment, exposing your shoulders once more. The faint traces of your old scars were visible, but they didn't faze him. Tilting your chin up, he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, "You're so beautiful, my wife. I love you too."

Wrapping your arms around his neck, your eyes fluttered close as he kissed you again, banishing all previous worries from your mind. When he pulled away, his lips trailed down your neck until they reached your scars. Gently pushing some hair away from his face, you stroked his head affectionately, watching as he showered each mark with kisses. As his hand hovered over the ribbon securing the inner layer of your hanbok, he looked up at you one last time, knowing there would be no turning back from this moment onward.

"I'll be gentle, my love, I promise."

"I know, Hwa, I trust you."

That night, you and Seonghwa became lost in each other, the boundaries between you fading away as you become one for the first time. In each other's arms, you discovered a love deeper than you ever thought possible. You found yourself no longer able to picture your life without him at this point.

Reflecting on your journey together, you marvelled at how much he had changed since you first met. Back then, you could never have imagined that he would come to love you so deeply, nor could you have anticipated the depth of your own feelings for him. Now, as you lay intertwined with him in the quiet of the night, you knew that you had arrived at your destination. It had been a long journey, filled with obstacles and challenges, but in the end, you found it.

You had finally found the way to his heart.

Y'all, I hope this one didn't disappoint! The pressure of knowing this was the final part was so SO REAL. Maybe it's my insecurities kicking in, but I genuinely hope this meets expectations!😭

Also, I know the story is completed but I have good news! I've decided to do some fluff-filled bonus chapters because I'm well aware this is barely enough to make up for all the angst I've put y'all through HAHA if you're not on the tag list and would like to be tagged for any future bonus content, just leave a comment to let me know!

Whoo, it's been quite the roller coaster ride now, hasn't it? If you've made it this far, I sincerely hope you enjoyed the story! From the bottom of my heart, thank you all so much for reading and as always, please let me know your thoughts! <3

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[suguru-getos]

| Bully! Gojo Satoru x F!Reader | Part 7 |

Summary: You had just transferred schools, and your first day was an encounter with your new bully. He’s mean, terrifically hot & absolutely a menace. Though there’s more to that personna. Perhaps an emotionally stunted softie who can’t communicate after used to being worshipped by everyone?

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: With the School festival coming right up the corner, your class choosing the Maid Cafe and you dressing up as a Maid. Satoru has to pull a few strings of his own. He may not be your bully anymore, he still is a spoiled boy who wants what he wants.

Between the haze of studies, and the workload because of the festival preparation, two weeks had passed. Satoru? Yeah, Satoru has gone more and more normal you'd say. He doesn't bother you apart from the occasional greetings. Sometimes he would smile and wink at you during the cafeteria where you settle with your friends; they are enamoured by the snow-haired king of school. Both the best friends, Satoru and Suguru are so sought out, you are worried it would end up in you getting into trouble because of it. Satoru is hell-bent on giving you the attention you don't need. You don't wish him good morning upfront when you accidentally catch him in the corridors, he does. Never failing it even once. The people who hang out with you have started to taunt you because of it.

"If it was up to me, I would have also spilled my lunch on his shirt. Maybe then he would notice me like he does, you, Y/N." Your eyes roll back a total of 360 degrees. This, this very behaviour was the reason Satoru was able to humiliate you so many times. The reminders aren't needed. The brutal reminders of you wishing you had no school, of you wishing that maybe he would have a change of heart and leave you alone. All because you said he collided against you purposely. Insufferable, Satoru Gojo was truly insufferable.

The cafeteria was echoing with the whispers, laughs, and discussions of your classmates and seniors alike. This was supposed to be festive time of course. Everyone was busy with something. As for you, this was your break. You had just finished giving your sizing for the maid costume. You hope it would look good on you at least, and you would get some memorable pictures. The thought of the School Festival commencing soon makes you giddy. You're not one of those emo loners anyway, you'd rather enjoy. "Hello Y/N san." One of your classmates diverts your attention, your gaze wanders up at him, reflexively shifting in your bench with the tray of your food so he could sit next to you. "Hello!" You chirped, watching him glance at you in a weird way, what's so weird about it? Well, Satoru looks at you the same way, as if you were a movie. You gulped, the stare was awkward. "So, what did you need?" You asked, raising an inquisitive brow. "Uh, nothing, just wanted to ask if you would participate in cooking as well? Some of the girls have been given the opportunity to dress up as maids, the others are going to be cooking." You think about it, this was pre-decided that you would be wearing a maid-costume. When the discussion happened, you were chosen pretty easily for the same.

"Hmm, I don't think I'm a great chef to be honest." You half chuckle, shrugging. The boy nods, gnawing at his lower lip. He seemed, almost nervous. As if he didn't know what to do if you didn't agree with him. "Why? What's the problem?" You asked again, trifling with your food now that your curiosity was piqued. "N-Nothing as such, it's just, you know Y/N there are going to be people from different schools, seniors- and I don't want anyone to hit on you." His cheeks are beet red when he says that. You raise a brow, you don't know how to take it. "Uh, thanks? I can take care of myself. Didn't take me much time to knock a shitty senior out in this very cafeteria?" You lean back, observing his face. He was looking more and more nervous by the passing minute. What is going on? "You know, I appreciate whatever you thought about me, but I can handle myself and take care of myself. Anything else?" You asked politely, unsure why you are being talked-to like you're a damsel in distress who wouldn't be able to take care of herself from hormone raging teens. "Sorry." He pouted, looking down. "I know it must sound like I am trying to control you - but you should remember I only want what's best for you." You want to puke, you barely know the dude. "Do you have a crush on me?" You cut to the chase, this was getting redundant/ "Who? ME?!" He exclaimed, leaning back, stuttering, "N-No of course- I mean, no- not like- Y/N you are pretty." "Thank you, I'm assuming you do have a crush on me?" He shakes his head no, timid again. "I don't want to die by the hands of Gojo san if I become brave and do agree."

Ah, there it is. Gojo San coming and looming in all over you again. "I understand, so you mean he likes me and he doesn't want anyone else to like me else he'll beat their ass?" The boy looked conflicted, should he? Really tell about all that? He wonders about the pros and cons - beaten up by Gojo to a pulp versus being your friend.

"Y/N, please don't discuss this with him." He begs, eyes pleading submissively. You roll your eyes and sighed, fine - you will keep your mouth shut about it. "Yeah, I promise. Won't share anything won't confront him, never heard of it." "He- uhm, ever since he knows that our class is going to do a Maid-café, he's closely supervising things with Shoko san & Geto san." "I never saw him? What do you mean? I never saw him come and check things?" You raised a brow, you were so sure his chapter was a closed one. You barely talked to him apart from having casual small-talk where you both don't ignore each other's existence. "Well, he did. Mostly timed when you were busy, he decided the menu, he interfered with the maid costumes. When everyone was against the long skirts and the full sleeves he threatened that he would have our class not participate at all. When we asked him what we could do so he could let us have some freedom to organize 'our own' activity - he mentioned he doesn't want you as a maid." A broken sigh escapes your classmate when he's done confessing.

You were.. fuming to say the least, every nerve ending pumping with boiling blood. So he is going to make everyone else suffer because he can't have you in a maid costume? "Then?" You raised a brow, this wasn't any conclusion. "Then I said I could talk to you about it, you're pretty and we hoped we would make a lot of money if you were to participate but Gojo San said he could cover the monetary side of it without any issues. Which left us with one final option, you could either opt out of being a maid, or we don't do it."

Ridiculous, fucking ridiculous.

"Why?" You snarled, what the fuck? "Well, because- as he said, he doesn't want other 'men' to look at you and create all sorts of scenarios in their head. He will have to take things on his own hands when that happens - and he wants to avoid that. I mean - avoiding beating up boys and ruin the festival." "Oh how kind, Gojo San is so kind, no?" You scoffed, sighing. Your classmates depended upon you, and you were once again caught in a clutch by Gojo Satoru. He gets what he wants doesn't he? "Tell him that I will be doing maid. Tell him to die mad about it." You got up, hearing the sound of the lunch-end bell and stomping away.

------

Gojo hasn't come back to you, it's been two days. You are sure your classmate had communicated everything to him clearly. Weird. This dude was so fucking weird. You are taut by your own promise to him though, you wouldn't talk to Gojo about it and risk the very foundation with which he trusted you. A lot has been on your mind since, if he likes you, he has no idea how to show it. Besides, doesn't even… matter if he likes you or not. You wouldn't forgive him… right? "Come on, don't be so pouty just because you're losing!" You heard his familiar voice from the basketball court. "Your glasses aren't working properly if you think I'm losing." You heard Geto remark back. Basketball, Satoru and Suguru are playing basketball. You didn't want to be a lurker but you do peek inside, watching the tall hunks play around alone. Every thud of the ball, every chuckle, every snicker and every goal sounding evidently in the echoes of the empty hall. "Peeking's no good." Satoru smirked, looking at you. You have no idea how grateful he is right now. He caught 'you' looking at him. "Sorry-" You mumbled, clearly accepting your mistake when you are at fault, unlike the fucking cafeteria incident. You were NOT at fault back then. "Whatcha lookin' for?" Satoru asked, playing with the ball and dribbling it while walking towards you. "Nothing, just got my 'final' maid costume." You answered, eyes trying their best not to glare at him when you say so. He hums, "Yeah? Gonna be a maid I hear." He cheekily grins. He heard… as if he doesn't know the bits and pieces of everything minutely already. "That's right, 'very excited' for it." You emphasize, and his eyes visibly softened, the pupils humanly dilating and a soft hum escaping him. "Mhm?" "Yeah" You grin back at him, unsure how to continue the conversation further.

Satoru was, dying. He didn't want to become what he was when you two met, and the way you said you were excited about it, he doesn't want to rip that all off because of his own spoiled wishes. It's a complex web of thoughts. On one moment Satoru wants to claim you as his; no one is even allowed to think about you wrongly. Keep you enclosed with him, marry you even? Breed you so you know you're his. Make babies so he gets a perfect blend of you and him. The other bit of him, wants to let you live so he can hopefully become a safe space for you. Help you trust him which he has ruined, show off the person he likes- loves- he doesn't know whether it's like or love yet.

"Well, I'll see you around." You distract him from his thoughts instantly. His lips part and brows furrow a little in resistance, "Well- shyeah."

He glances at Suguru once you leave.  You're going to be a maid and he wouldn't be able to do 'anything' about it when that brings a smile like 'that' on your face.

[tinietaehyun]

Heartfelt Desire

[KingofHearts!Yeonjun x Lost!Reader] [Wondrous Tales] [One-shot series]

Pairing: KingofHearts!Yeonjun x Lost!Reader

Genre(s): Fantasy, dark fantasy, supernatural, romance, thriller, wonderland!au, whimsical.

Contains: Profanity, mentions of poison, capital punishment, implications of injury, death, mentions/implications of claustrophobic situations, suggestive themes, possessive behaviour.

Links: Wondrous Tales Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: It’s been awhile! Fucking finally, thanks for the patience everyone! <3

Summary: You peer around at this red, black and white lavish interior. A shudder vibrates through you - maybe you were better off with Soobin. You wonder what happened to him, everything happened so quickly. One moment he grasped your hand tightly and the next you saw him getting dragged away!

The guards shove you through a set of grand heart engraved doors and you stumble to your knees. Peering up, you see the man himself, one leg atop the other, a bored expression on his face, his eyes glimmering in intrigue.

“Ah, my darling guest, have you already fallen for me? Surely, you must have plans to keep me more entertained than that.” He smirks almost too sweetly with a flick of his wrist, “After all, you’ll find out very quickly, what happens to those I get bored with.”

“Think this one’ll last?” One of the guards who were hauling you asks his fellow guard with a snarky grin. The other responds with a sneer aimed down at you, “Mm, don’t know. They never really do. She might last a few weeks longer though, impressive enough she managed to sway the Timekeeper.”

You grunt as they tug you along like some ragdoll, speaking about you demeaningly with such condescension. You absolutely despised this, your feet were beginning to ache from all this shoving and walking, it felt as though it had been ages. Peering up at the sky, the sun was in the same place just before sunset. It was upsetting, you couldn’t even tell if time had passed or not because, well, time was dead.

A shiver passes through you as you finally spot the palace from which you’d seen as minuscule now loom over all of you. The diamond checker print path, comically large golden gates with red heart details and perilously sharp spikes.

Not to mention the palace itself, a colour palette of red, gold and white. Large spires and absurdly intricate architectural details gracing its features. Towers and domes, glass and walls, it truly was an architectural marvel that stood proud amongst the whimsical surroundings.

Certainly, it was a sight to behold. However, instead of wonder and amazement, it filled you with utter dread and anxiety instead. For you would have to meet the Red King of Hearts, the ruler of Wonderland. Someone, who Soobin had made very clear, was to be feared, cruel and selfish.

Your heart pangs with pain and misery. You really hoped Soobin was okay. Perhaps, he’d find a way out of being executed? How could Wonderland possibly lose its one and only Timekeeper? Your heart couldn’t take the thought of him bearing such capital punishment. They couldn’t possibly execute him immediately, right?

“Move the fuck along, stop dragging your feet,” the guard to your right snaps and you glare back at him as he shoves you forward. Pieces of shit, the whole lot of them! You mutter, “Fine, fine!”

Finally, you’re brought within the confines of the luxurious palace. The scale of everything intimidates you immensely. You peer around at this red, black and white lavish interior.

A shudder vibrates through you - maybe you were better off with Soobin. Everything happened so quickly. One moment he grasped your hand tightly and the next, you saw him getting dragged away!

“Keep it movin’ hun, not long to go before your demise,” the other guard snickers and your heart jumps to your throat, feeling a dreadful amount of nausea. What was the terribly rumoured Red King of Hearts like in person? Oh fuck, you probably weren’t going to even last a second!

All of you halt at a ginormous set of golden doors with intricate designs and ruby doorknobs. Oh, this must be it… The guards shove you through the set of grand heart engraved doors and you stumble to your knees due to the force.

Peering up timidly, you see the man himself, one leg atop the other, a bored expression on his face, his eyes glimmering in intrigue at your abrupt entry. The two doors shut behind you with a resounding clank, trapping you within the lion’s den.

The male’s lips quirk into a coy smile as he tilts head which was resting boredly on the palm of his hand. Uncrossing his legs, he stands with great poise and flourish, his blood velvet cape flapping behind him. Goodness…his intricate attire, he really did love the colour red…and well hearts. Rather fitting, actually.

This was the most consistent thing you’d seen in this place in all honesty; a jarring contrast to the clashing colours and whimsical nonsense outside. Oddly enough, this makes you feel even worse.

With caution, your gaze scans over his (criminally) handsome features, most remarkably his sharp eyes with a piercing gaze, his sleek jaw and lush rosy lips all complemented by raven black hair in which a few select strands hung over his forehead. The coy smile had your stomach doing flips and you releasing shaky breaths.

The clatter of his black boots echo on the checkered floor as he menacingly walks towards you as though he were a predator and you were nothing but prey. Your heart palpitates with great velocity and you can’t help but not move your gaze away from him. Your gazes lock, his gaze filled with a sly glimmer and yours filled with trepidation.

As he finally stands towering over your kneeling form, he smirks, a little too sweetly in fact as he says, “Ah, my darling guest, have you already fallen for me? Surely, you must have plans to keep me more entertained than that.” With a flick of his frilled wrist, he hums nonchalantly, “After all, you’ll find out very quickly, what happens to those I get bored with.”

You remain silent glaring up at the dramatic man. A boisterous laugh emits from his frame and he peers down at your pitiful form with a manic look in his eyes, “Oh? Cheshire Cat got your tongue?”

Your brows furrow in confusion. “Oh! You are just so adorable, look at your confused little expression, my darling. I could just devour you up,” he coos.

With a grimace, you murmur, “Where’s Soobin?” He crouches down abruptly startling you and he grins, “Soobin? I didn’t know you were so close to the White Rabbit?”

Your heart thuds against your ribcage as his piercing gaze impales you. “I really did wonder, you know, how you managed to sway that manic rabbit. The timekeeper is not easily swayed; he's always so, so, so, dedicated to being on time! To complete the tasks I set him. Yet,” he pauses with a laugh, “yet, you somehow captured his pathetic little heart and caused him to deviate off the set path and my important order of bringing any and all guests who wander into Wonderland to me!”

Another cruel cackle escapes him, “Oh? And now look! Now, he’s on death row because of who?” He questions you as if it is the funniest possible notion to ever exist. “Because of you, my darling!” You? Your eyes glaze over, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Ah, where are my manners making you about to cry on our first meeting? Do forgive me, my pretty little guest, it’s been so, so long since we’ve had a guest in Wonderland and well, I can’t contain my excitement around you. Oh, yes, yes! Introductions!”

“Darling, introduce yourself to your king.” Your king? How fucking vain! This man was infuriating! Your shakily glare in the tiniest hint of defiance. The King tilts his head observing your reaction and his gaze darkens as does his tone when his slender fingers grab your jaw tugging your face towards his, as he threatens lowly, “Don’t make me repeat myself, understood? I don’t like repeating myself. I like obedient little guests, who play their role as they should,” his fingers press into your skin, “So?”

You wince as you pry his hand off your jaw with a quiver. His personality was like night and day. This side of him was a stark contrast from mere moments ago, it scared you much more than the man with dramatic flair. Timidly, you mumble, “My name is Y/n.”

He hums in pleasant delight, “See? Was that so hard, darling? Now, I’m sure you know who I am, everyone does, but since you’re my guest, for courtesy and my own selfish desire, allow me to introduce myself,” he stands and with a flourish of his cape, he bellows, head held high with pride, “I am, the Red King of Hearts, the Ruler of Wonderland, the Apex of all here, or just for you my darling,” he abruptly crouches back down with a smirk, “Yeonjun.”

You mumble, “…Yeonjun.” How peculiar. Yeonjun grins, “How your sweet lips sound when you say my name, I do wonder what other sweet sounds I can get you to make.” A burst of warmth floods your cheeks at his crude insinuation.

Yeonjun’s gaze trails down your facial features, down your neck and your body, “Mm, I see the attire of your world continues to amuse me, ever rapidly changing I see. Though I won’t say it’s not displeasing, quite the opposite in fact.” His fingers once again cup your jaw, gentler this time, “You’re a pretty little darling aren’t you? I believe we will get along splendidly.” He leans forward, lips inches from yours, eyes darkening in a sadistic gaze, “Even if we don’t, I can fix that.”

He rises outstretching his hand with a long, exaggerated drawl, “Mm, now up, up, I don’t need you kneeling like a dog waiting for their master’s command.” His switch in tone from threat to lighthearted almost gives your whiplash. Yeonjun’s peers down at you with a grin, “Although, the view of you kneeling down like this isn’t too bad either.” With great haste you take his hand and pull yourself up with a huff.

A loud chuckle reverberates from him, “Oh you do make me laugh, that’s at least a good start,” he tugs you along with him, “Have I mentioned I don’t like being bored? I do hope you plan to entertain me as long as you’re here,” he peers back over his shoulder at you with a twinkle in his crazed eyes, “After all, your life depends on it.” A ruthless little laugh escapes his lips making your shoulders sag. Oh dear, you never really called yourself an interesting person, let alone entertaining. You were doomed!

“First, I’m going to provide the finest feast my loveliest new guest has ever laid eyes on, after all I need you on a full stomach to keep your energy up, hm?” Yeonjun delightfully utters and you feel your stomach churn, not in hunger but in fear. Now that you think about it, you weren’t that hungry. How much time passed in the outside world then?

“Hurry your step, I have worked the chefs extra hard today to make sure you have a feast upon your arrival,” he takes your arm, hooking it under his as he speedily walks along. Your feet stumble trying to keep up with him; you sigh, this was awful.

Within a few minutes, you’re presented with the finest feast you have indeed ever laid eyes on. Illustrious varieties of foods of different kinds, sizes, some whacky and some you recognise - either way they all looked delectable, making your mouth salivate at the thought of being able to eat some of this.

“Now, now, sit darling, the food will get cold otherwise and we can’t have that now, can we?” He coos ushering you along to a tufted chair at the head of the table, which was elaborately decorated. “For today, you can sit on my seat, since it’s been so, so, long since I’ve had a guest. Can you tell I’m just brimming with utter excitement? I can barely contain myself.”

With a firm but gentle nudge on your shoulders he pushes you to sit down and the servants place a napkin on your lap and you’re immediately presented with a white, gold and red rimmed plate with gold cutlery to boot. Yeonjun sits down in the seat to your right with a smirk lining his lips and muses, “Oh, you do look lovely sitting there so obediently.”

Hesitantly, you peer at the food not knowing what to pick with so much choice. You see his hand fly out, placing a plate of what seems to be steak in front of your plate and his other hand taking another plate filled with some sliced chicken surrounded by various vegetables. “Take your pick darling,” he hums.

Your eyes flicker unsurely between the two. You briefly peer back at Yeonjun who seems to have his hands clasped together under his chin whilst his elbows rest on the table and your heart sinks. He was regarding you with such interest as if every single one of your mannerisms was pure entertainment. Yeonjun’s gaze becomes coy and his lips quirk into a lopsided smirk, “Oh? Darling looking at me like that… I’m not on the menu tonight.”

Huffing, you respond, “That’s not- you-“ A chuckle escapes his lips, “Hm? Why? Am I not to your tastes? I’ve made a lot of people happy you know,” his voice takes a sultry edge as his head tilts slightly.

Your cheeks become warm and you turn your gaze back to the food. You point to one of them and he ever so kindly presents it on your plate with a sly smile, unnerving you incredibly.

“Eat up, darling. I’m sure you’ll love it.” With a clink of your knife and fork against the plate, you timidly begin eating and you notice he’s not touched a single morsel of food.

“Why aren’t you eating?” You question suspiciously. He pouts, “Oh? You care whether I eat? I can’t believe you’re getting so attached to me already. I’m so touched, such a kind heart you have.” Refraining from the urge to roll your eyes, you mutter, “It’s not that- just- it’s your feast..”

Swallowing another bite, you can’t help but relish in the divine taste. What the hell did they put in here to make something so regular taste so good? Then again, with a ruler like him, he probably expected nothing less than perfection or off with their heads!

He leans forward slightly, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and his gaze is alluring as he muses, his tone of voice changing drastically, “Does it taste good?”

You stiffen, “…Why?” He smiles just a tad too sweetly, “Don’t make me repeat myself, darling.” Looking down at the food on your plate, your breath becomes uneven. He muses with a twisted smile, “It doesn’t taste off, does it? I’d hate to punish my dear chefs, you know?”

Stammering, you drop your cutlery overwhelmed with a sense of anxiety, “N-No?” What was that supposed to mean? Taste off? Yeonjun smirks, “Oh it doesn’t? Are you just resistant to poison? That would make you even more of a remarkable guest than you already are.”

Poison? What the fuck? Nausea hits you instantly as you shove away the plate with noisy clatter and stand abruptly, cutlery scattered on the floor and you hyperventilate. What the fuck did you just eat?

Yeonjun lets out a boisterous guffaw, running his hand through his hair, giving it a tousle and adjusting his crown, “Oh did you not find my joke funny?” Joke? Was he joking?

You snap shakily, “What? Is it poisoned? Or not?” Yeonjun coos, “Darling, why would I kill off my newest toy, sorry, guest, so quickly? Where’s the fun in that? I just wanted to see your endearing reaction.”

Infuriated, you yell, “You-You sadist! I…I thought I consumed…” He gives you a smile, an uncomfortably serene one contrasting your outburst, “Oh hush now. This dish doesn’t have poison in it.”

Your eyes narrow, “What? This…dish?” He muses, “Half of these dishes do, and half of these don’t. Isn’t that fun?” He sighs dramatically leaning back in his chair, “Most guests don’t even make it past the first round, it’s so unfair, how stupid they are. You’re lucky, you chose the dish you did over the other.”

Your heart races; you were still alive this second, out of sheer luck. How fucking stupid could you be? No way in hell were you going to eat anything from this table!

“I’m not hungry- I’m not eating anything off this table!” You snap, hands trembling. Yeonjun’s eyes pierce into yours, “Now, now no need to throw a tantrum, darling. I suggest you sit yourself back down and play the game I’ve set up for you, less you face any unfavorable consequences.”

The threat lacing his voice is clear and you feel compelled to sit back down. He awaits, his gaze menacing and lips held in a twisted yet refined smile. The red heart shape painted around his left eye taunting you.

He pours you some water into the cup beside your plate and you peer at it with caution. Yeonjun snickers, “Allow me to be clear, the only thing that isn’t poisoned is the water. Everything else is merely a gamble. I want you to see this game through, and finish all the courses. I’ve skipped the starter just because I actually want you to have a chance to win. I can’t have my guest dying after waiting for so long!”

You eye the water with a grimace; you couldn’t take his words at face value anymore. Yeonjun muses with a shrug, as you don’t touch the cup of water, “Oh? Suit yourself then. I’m feeling rather parched.” He takes the cup downing it and your jaw clenches. It was indeed not poisoned.

You peer at the food across the table; this explains the sheer variety. Every single dish was a danger; you had no way of finding out which was poisoned. No wonder people didn’t make it past even a few days! With sadistic games like this? Who would? There had to be a few who managed to pass by sheer luck only to displease the king and be executed anyway.

Yeonjun places his hand atop yours, rubbing circles across the back of your hand with his thumb and you stiffen under his touch. “Hm…you look pale, are you that scared, darling? You’re almost making me feel bad for you, you know?”

“Is…Is there nothing else we can play?” You timidly question and it seems to surprise him. No one has dared to ask to play another game. All he’s heard are pitiful cries, pathetic begging and whimpering, some even boldly try to run away or some foolish guests even have tried to stab him. Yet you…you were different. Perhaps, the Timekeeper was indeed right to attempt to steal you away all to himself.

A manically delighted expression crosses his face making you feel even more unsettled. “Oh you continue to surprise me, darling. Another game? Oh I’d be happy to indulge your lovely request.” He relishes the spark of hope glimmering in your beautiful eyes, the slight flutter of your lashes.

His lips form a dark smile, how he’d love to douse that flame of hope. Very, very few had ever made it out past the Red King of Hearts’s palace. Mostly because they died! Yeonjun regards your face, your frame and he can’t help but feel strongly for you. Maybe because it’s been awhile, but he doesn’t want to let you go. Perhaps, he could keep you like a little bird in a golden cage that he could visit whenever he desired. Why must all the guests here die? If only they weren’t so incompetent.

Perhaps he could keep you until he grew utterly bored. You were oh so pretty after all, it would be such a waste. Yeonjun hums, “Darling, since I’m growing ever so fond of you, I’ll be incredibly generous just this once. I want to be entertained so, just chatting can only go so far. Why don’t you suggest a game to play?”

“…A game to play? Me?” You question shakily. He was giving you a choice. You peer around seeing the servants bewildered by his words and wide-eyed. He had abandoned this game of dangerous dining, just because you offered to play another game. Was he truly that fond of you? Gaging the servants’ reactions, you could tell this was something that had never happened before.

Perhaps, this was your chance at escape. You had to take advantage of this once in a blue moon chance! Think, think, think!

Yeonjun’s sly gaze runs over your features and he hums, “Oh I know it’s a big decision, so take your time. But that also doesn’t mean I’m the most patient man, darling.” So…did he want you to be quick or take your time?

As you grind the gears of your brain, Yeonjun observes your mannerisms, finding them rather endearing. He knew you wanted to escape. That dastardly rabbit must have spewed all sorts of nasty things to you about him! His lips quirk up into a smirk, it was very cute how hard your little brain must be whirring. There was no escaping him, no escaping the Red King of Hearts in Wonderland.

In this world, he ruled. No one goes unchecked, no one leaves and enters without him knowing. Every single thing, every single person, being, whatever it was that resided here belonged to him and him alone, without question. He leans forward resting his chin once more against his palm, especially you. His newest guest, he didn’t want you to die so quickly like the others.

Though with how you manage to seduce the White Rabbit, he wonders if you were just putting on a meek and timid facade. Whatever game you were playing, Yeonjun relished in it, so much so, he was giving you the oh so rare opportunity to decide. For once, the guest asked to play a different game, how bold indeed. If anyone else in the past had said such a thing, he’d have gauged their eyes out with the very cutlery on the table!

Such pretty lashes, glimmering eyes and kissable lips you had. All of you, just a sight for sore eyes. He hums in approval. Oh, he could just imagine you dolled up, caged in his chambers, like a pretty little bird, all for himself. He didn’t want to let you go, kill you like the others, well unless you were abhorrently boring of course, but who knows when the next guest would arrive in Wonderland!

“Your majesty,” a voice interrupts his reverie and he snaps, “What?” A colourfully absurd invitation is placed in front of him by one of the servants and Yeonjun groans exasperated. “Oh how many times more must I incinerate these disgusting little invitations he sends me?”

You eye the invite; ‘The March Hare and Hatter cordially invite his majesty for our terrific tea party!’ The Mad Hatter..the killer of time? March Hare? What in wonderland were these titles? A tea party?

‘Follow the pastel bunting or jump down the timekeeper’s burrows and see where they lead, maybe you’ll just bump into one of us and see!’

What the fuck type of invite was this? Burrows? There wasn’t even a time or place! Then again it was all because of a stupid ass invite that you were stuck here in the first place!

Burrows…Soobin. You frown. Huh, that means Soobin must have burrows everywhere across Wonderland. Your mind ticks faster as more connections form. So…he must have one to get to the palace since he does work directly under the Red King of Hearts, running Wonderland. So he must have dozens more within the palace and grounds to get to other places!

Before you and Soobin got caught by Yeonjun’s guards, you were about to go down one of them anyway! It’s bound to be a quick way to different places! You just had to find one of his burrows in the palace!

“Burn it,” Yeonjun snaps, repulsed by the invite. The servant bows retreating hastily and you meet his gaze. His angered expression immediately morphs into one of coddle and awe, “Well, my darling?”

Clearing your throat, you reply, “Hide and Seek.” He raises a brow before replying, “Hide and Seek, a rather childish game, no? Why? Are you that good at hide and seek?”

You murmur, “Well, no, but it’s entertaining, isn't that what you want? Plus…I don’t get to…die?” Your voice raises unsurely at the end.

The hall goes silent as he processes your words; his face is serious as he stands abruptly startling you. Did he see through your plan? You wanted to scour the palace, the courtyards and gardens for at least one of Soobin’s burrows. The most inconspicuous way was to indulge in a dangerous game with Yeonjun.

He hums, his fingers tapping the table, “Hm, and what do I get if I win? After finding you of course?”

You quip, “What if I want to seek first? Must I always be the one to hide?” His eyes widen slightly and the servants freeze at your words. A large cackle escapes his lips as his pupils dilate, excitation brimming within him, “Oh, oh I like you. I like you a lot. I guess that pretty mouth of yours can do more than just whimper.”

Yeonjun’s words make you flush as his intense gaze runs over you as you stand. Play along for now. That’s all you have to do.

He walks up to you with a wry smile as he cups your jaw, “You don’t think I know what you’re trying to do?” Your blood runs cold. Fuck. Yeonjun leans down, his breath against your ear, “You don’t think I know how much you want to leave my grasp?”

You glare up at him shakily. Your faces are inches apart and he muses quietly, “You’re lucky that I’m willing to even indulge in your silly games. Every single corner of this palace is lined with my guards. Don’t think I’m stupid, darling.” The way his demeanor switches like day and night has you reeling.

You murmur resolutely, “Neither am I.” He smirks, “I hope, indeed. So,” he steps back taking one of your hands in his rubbing his thumb on the back of it delicately, “Hide and Seek. I want to up the stakes. The game you want to play is a little boring. We’ll have two rounds where we swap roles as the seeker and hider.”

Reluctantly, you nod. Yeonjun resumes, “First round, you’ll be the seeker. You find me. Within the time limit of course. If you do, I’ll grant any wish you like, give you all the riches you desire,” he hums deviously, “Pleasures that you would have never experienced before, and so on and so forth.” Yeonjun’s lips form a dark smile, “If you don’t, well, that just means, I get a point.”

That’s it? Something was awfully wrong. “Next round, I’m the hider? You’re the seeker. Is it the same rules?” You question nervously. He nods, “Yes darling, if you manage to hide for long enough, then you get a point! If you don’t, well…” he releases a dark chuckle, “Well, we’ll get to that.”

You glare, “No, I want to know. What do I get if I win? Other than whatever riches and such. What if I want f-“

“If you’re thinking freedom, darling,” he begins with a dark glare as he leans down, “Forget it,” he seethes. His tone sends shivers down your spine and the deranged look in his eyes is enough to make your knees buckle.

“If…I win,” he laughs as if the thought is utterly delicious, “Then, you’re mine. You already are, but in a more true sense of the word. You’ll be mine, you’ll get the rare privilege of being kept alive. For my entertainment! See, I can’t bring myself to kill you, well, not so easily I mean. Think of yourself like a bird in a golden cage, sitting prettily waiting for me, no responsibilities, nothing, just existing for me alone. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

You peer at his unhinged demeanor and you almost feel sick. Was that his idea of fun? It almost seems like his other ‘guests’ had the easy way out through death! A shaky breath escapes you and it doesn’t go unnoticed and he smiles, “Oh? You don’t like that idea? I could just display your pretty little head on my mantle in my office instead, but I thought it’d be a shame.” You pale instantly.

You grunt, “I’d rather you not.” He hums, “Glad we agree, darling. Now close those pretty eyes of yours and start counting to a hundred. You have a generous twenty minutes to find me.” Hundred!? Yeonjun grins with a flirtatious wink as he brushes past you, “No skipping numbers,” he mutters menacingly, “I despise cheaters.”

Glaring, you begrudgingly turn around and cover your face with your hands and hear his echoing footsteps. Indeed this seemed childish. You’d let him hide wherever the fuck he wanted. You’d be under the pretense of trying to find him when in actuality you were looking for burrows.

“…98, 99, 100.” Your eyes open and you see the knights standing guard keeping a sharp eye on you. Well, presumably so, that you didn’t skip any numbers. How pathetic.

With exasperation, you begin walking around the winding and twisting hallways of the grand palace. Everything reeked of Yeonjun from the decor to the winding hallways and architecture, the colour palette and furniture. The mirror panels lining the walls, how vain was he? You see your reflection walking alongside you everywhere and it creeped you out. What a weird place.

You knew you had twenty minutes, so you had to cover as much ground of this hellhole as you could before the time was up. You were in no way trying to actually look for that maniac! As you walk around; the guards and various servants all eye you and you feel a constant sense of unease. Always being watched. Whether it be them or Yeonjun himself.

Ten minutes had passed according to the knight who informed you midway (with what godforsaken clock they had, you didn’t know). You had managed to find your way around, use pieces of furniture and decor to make sure you didn’t repeat your route in this massive place. There was still much to explore, you seemed to have covered the entire West Wing of the palace.

Not a single peep out of Yeonjun. He was not stupid that was for damn sure. You knew he was watching you. You knew he was making sure you wouldn’t try anything funny, such as escape. You were sure though, he didn’t know about your out of the box plan of using the White Rabbit’s burrows.

“Five minutes, Miss Y/n.” A knight suddenly barks and you clutch your chest startled by the sudden shout. Muttering, you speed your pace, “Fucking hell,” you didn’t know if Soobin had a direct way into the palace. Perhaps you had to think simpler. What if it was genuinely outside? The gardens.

Yes, if you skipped the East Wing and went straight for the gardens. But…you had no time. You still had the next round but, you would be the hider. Your mind whirrs trying to plan everything out; your arms crossed over your chest in deep thought.

“Oh, you’re terribly bad at this game, darling, now there’s only two minutes left,” a voice reaches your ear and you scream, stumbling back. Your eyes widen seeing Yeonjun with a dangerously sharp gaze peering down at your startled form.

“Come now, do I scare you that badly? I’m not scary.” Yeonjun smirks crouching down to your level, “What a pitiful attempt at both escape and seeking. I like your bravery, well, I should say more so stupidity. But it’s entertaining, very much so, so keep doing it,” he stands back up towering over your trembling form as he darkly hums, “I’ll have so much fun with you afterwards.”

“I was hiding in the gardens by the way, what a pity you didn’t set foot outside.” Fuck. Perhaps you should have started there. You didn’t want to be so fucking obvious though!

“At least you’re dedicated to the game, in one way, I suppose,” he dryly muses, “I was bored waiting for you darling so I came to you instead, but that does mean you unfortunately, or fortunately for me, lose.”

Rolling your eyes, you get up, “Yeah, yeah.” Yeonjun still towers over your frame despite standing and he places a hand atop your head, “How cute. You still have some attitude. A sore loser are we?” You gaze up at him and you stiffen at the manic gleam in his eyes and he releases a laugh, “I like that expression on your face.”

He leans down, “It suits you. Fear. Anxiety. Makes your face, oh so, adorable.” His voice is utterly condescending. It enrages you and causes you to shiver. The depth and tone of his voice, scratches your brain as he alluringly regards you.

Yeonjun’s fingers grasp your jaw tilting your head up more, “Keep entertaining me like this, pretty thing and you’ll have me obsessed with you. Not many have the gall that you do.” You pry his hand off making him smile amused.

“The next round.” You state with a shaken glare and racing heart. Yeonjun sighs dramatically, “Ah, yes, yes. Why the rush? Eager to leave? Not like you can, when my guards are everywhere.”

You mutter, “Isn’t that cheating? What if they just tell you where I’m hiding?” He arches a brow with a smirk, “Oh? You think I’d stoop so low.” Oh he totally would - anything to win. You know it.

With a challenging expression, you hum confidently, “Do this round without your guards. They cannot tell you where I am. Just you,” you step forward, inches away from each other, “and me.”

You can tell he’s taken slightly aback, by your sudden surge of confidence and your demand. You spot the workings of his mind as his eyes peer back into yours. You hum, “Unless…you can’t? Because you’re afraid I’d really escape? Then what threat are you? Catch me with your own two hands and…” you shakily grit and force out the words like they’re acid on your tongue, “…and I’m all yours.”

Your proposition, your intentional wording, the tilt of your head, proximity, the ever so subtle flutter of your lashes, you had to use his hubris, his own arrogance against him. “All mine? That’s rather hard to believe.”

You murmur, “Well, I’d rather be here than the Hatter or lost out there. You took the one guide I had.” This makes Yeonjun smirk and he hums, “Aren’t you a sneaky little thing?” He trails his hand up your arm resting his hand on your shoulder before pulling you against him and whispering, “I might have almost believed you, with that siren gaze and silky words of yours.”

Fuck him! “But, I’ll entertain you nonetheless. Either way, you’ll be mine whatever the outcome is,” he hums presumptuously, taking a step back and he outstretches his hand. “Without the guards it is. Allow me to inform the General. Oh, don’t try the gates, they’re locked. Don’t scale the garden fences, they have spikes, unless you like being impaled. Do you?”

Grimacing, you respond, “I don’t.” He muses, “Figured.” Yeonjun alerts his guards and the General and you feel your heart palpitate with unease in your chest. This was it. Make your way to the gardens. Scour the entire place for burrows. Prolong the game, without him finding you. Sounds easy enough, right? The gardens themselves must be huge.

“So darling,” Yeonjun begins with a wry grin, an excited twinkle in his eyes, “Let the game begin. I’ll count to a hundred, I promise I won’t skip any numbers.” Liar.

With all your might, you start sprinting. Where the fuck were the doors to the garden, you didn’t know. Okay, okay, just use the windows as a guide. Peering around you see a stretch of plants and trees, fencing and a path, this area seems to be facing the front of the palace, where you could spot the grand gates through which you were hauled through. Twisting around, you peer to your left, that had to go back to the West Wing which you had already explored. With the way the path from the gate twisted, it would be quicker to get to the garden through the West wing.

Luckily, you weren’t too terrible at directions only doubling back one or two times before using the windows and looking outside to roughly ascertain your position and remain on the outskirting hallways of the palace. Your eyes widen seeing the bustling servants and trays of buckets of fresh vegetables being carried; yes! The gardens must be nearby.

What if you asked the servants? “Excuse me?” You call out stopping one and the vibrant red and white coloured woman peers at you absurdly, “Yes?”

“Where are the gardens?” You ask with glimmering hope. She hums, “Ah, you must be the new guest. I’m sorry I cannot tell you.” You plead, “Please, please. It’s not to escape I swear, I just need to hide.”

“He’ll have my head,” she responds with a dull expression and you sigh in frustration. She peers over her shoulder down a particular hallway. You spot many other servants coming through a set of wooden doors. You smile at her; “Oh, oh now I know.” She may have unintentionally let you know. But oh well!

Making your way through the bustling servants, you shove past them through the wooden doors and get smacked by the familiar eery sunset of Wonderland. The gardens truly looked magnificent, trimmed bushes, neat soil patches, flowers of every size, shape and colour, both elegant and wacky. Your eyes widen seeing one egregiously large flower looming over the others.

The checker-print adorned gardeners peer at you with disgust but you ignore it as you swiftly make your way through the gardens following the paths and trying not to become distracted with the oddly shaped bushes- mostly hearts.

Yeonjun had probably finished counting ages ago. Yet here you were with no progress out in the open sticking out in your modern attire like a green thumb. Perhaps you had to check the outskirts, burrows to other places would be easier from there right? Well, whatever weird logic you came up with, you had no choice but to try it.

You stiffen as a voice bellows out, “Oh, my, my, I think I spot a precious little bird fluttering out in the open unsure where to hide.” Fuck, fuck, fuck! How did he know to come out to the gardens? Of course he did, he’s not fucking stupid! He probably asked around, he obviously broke his own rules? Piece of shit!

Enraged and terrified, you bolt off, hearing his deranged cackle echo throughout the garden. Oh, he was insane. He definitely enjoyed chasing you around as though you were prey and he a hunter, a little too much for your liking.

Yeonjun walks confidently in his step, how lovely you were. Making this so easy for him. So what if he cheated and asked where you went? His servants could never disobey his orders. A delightfully twisted laugh escapes his lips, or he’d have their heads on a platter.

He did say he didn’t like cheaters, but he never said he couldn’t be one himself. He only didn’t like them if it meant he couldn’t win. What king would he be, if he followed the rules like the vermin below? No, he was above the rules. And well, he wanted you. At any cost.

No matter where you were in Wonderland, he’d always get you. Every guest that lands in this decrepit place was his to do with as he pleased. His gaze follows your minute figure as you sprint off making him smile. Oh he could imagine it now, dressed in the finest gowns hands strung up with the softest silk ribbon, at his mercy.

With a giddy step, he begins walking faster. Hm, perhaps your suggestion of hide and seek was a good one after all. He always did have a little sadistic streak in him.

Panting for breath you peer around desperately. The gardens were kept in immaculate condition. Not a single burrow in sight. Had they covered them up or something? Did you become over ambitious or were you just stupid?

The crunch of stones and soil resound and you feel fear grip your lungs like a vice. Yeonjun could be anywhere, he knew this damn place better than you did that for sure. Did he catch onto your plan?

Running more, you keenly look around and you turn another corner seeing nothing to your utter disappointment. Fuck. It was only a matter of time. Even if you manage to keep Yeonjun from finding you within the time, it was a win-win for him. Freedom wasn’t on the table for you.

You freeze suddenly hearing the crunch of footsteps and immediately duck behind some hedges, covering your mouth. A twisted tune is hummed by Yeonjun who walks narrowly by, making you shiver. He was truly enjoying this.

“Oh I swear you were here, I saw that lovely face of yours just moments ago. Hm, perhaps you’re that skittish, like a little rabbit on the run from a fox?” Yeonjun utters aloud.

His voice was brimming with twisted pleasure. You ease as he walks away and you release your held breath. Fuck, that was close. Giving it a few more seconds, you slowly make your way behind the topiaries trying to remain hidden as you scour the ground. At this point, you believe you‘ve barely even made a dent into the garden. You were purely trying your luck with the edges. That just made the most sense right?

As you turn the corner to the next side, you see this side is a little more unkempt, overgrown, yet there’s still many topiaries and the path in the distance. Your eyes catch light of a few degraded streamers and a paper plate disintegrating. Huh. Perhaps you were getting close after all.

You continue making your way around, sneaking with trepidation. It was a little too quiet. You catch more glimpses of papers, broken cups and worn and torn down invites, with illegible writing and smudges. Your eyes see a worn sign; ‘Beware Timekeeper Burrow ahead, proceed with caution and watch your step. Unstable ground.’

Yes, yes, yes! You could have never been happier in your life to see a warning sign!

“Mm? Oh, I see now. It all makes sense seeing you stick to the edge of the garden,” you spin around mortified to see him approaching you with a sickening smile. “Oh darling, you’re quite the smart thing aren’t you.”

A laugh, an unhinged one emits from him, “Too bad, I’m smarter. Now, come here,” he snarls. With a piercing scream, you run almost stumbling over your own feet from fear. Oh, he was terrifying.

You hear his ragged breathing and delirious laugh getting closer, your lungs burn and vision blurs with tears. Wind whips past your face and you have to try your hardest to keep an eye out for the unassuming burrow. The soil cracks and flakes at your harsh steps, truly the ground was unstable here. Fuck!

With a curious glance over your shoulder, you scream horrendously loud seeing his hand inches from your shoulder and his manic gaze, “Got you!”

Roughly, you’re pushed down onto the ground; twigs and stones or whatever else painfully prick your back and soil stains your skin as you struggle against him. Yeonjun pins your arms down with a laugh, “Goodness, it’s been so long since I’ve been this entertained. You might become my most favourite guest I’ve ever had.”

You huff and writhe trying to escape his grasp. No, no, no! You could feel it, instinctually, you were so close! “W-What about the time-“ He chuckles his breath brushing over your face, his raven locks hanging over his eyes, “Oh, that ended ages ago. You’re good at keeping away from me you know-“

“That means I get a point-“ you scramble, your thoughts an utter mess. “So? Either way, you’re mine. It’s a tie then. What should we do about that? Hm?” Yeonjun’s lips stretch into a smile, “You’re so pretty when you try to outsmart me, you might even surpass the rage I feel right now for such a stupid move.”

Breathless, you feel your limbs ache from exhaustion, the pump of blood and adrenaline echoing in your eardrums. Not like this. His devilishly handsome face hovers over yours relishing in your defeat. No, you still had a chance. You needed to get him off you, but he had strength.

Your gaze drops to his lips, parted, panting, he was also out of breath. Were you out of your mind? Perhaps. Your gaze flicks back up to his eyes as he observes your quiet demeanor.

“Mm? What’s that lovely head of yours thinking about now?” He hums amused. You say nothing peering back down at his lips and he seems to take notice, his brows furrowing. That’s it. Confusion.

Pushing aside all rationale and morals, you tilt yourself upwards meeting your lips with his in a clumsy kiss. His eyes widen taken wildly aback. His grip loosens around your arms and you shove them away; he momentarily panics before you wrap your arms around his neck pulling him deeper into the kiss. Yeonjun freezes.

Wonderland, what a place. Perhaps you really had become insane already. Resorting to this. No matter how sinfully good his luscious lips felt against yours, no matter how lust crept into the crevices of your body. At the end of the day, your sense of self-preservation came first.

You feel him part from you breathless, desire and glee flickering in his dark gaze as he releases a breathy laugh cupping your cheek, “You’re…insane.” How ironic, his words were. You muse, “Am I?” “You dare to kiss the king?” He murmurs against your lips.

“Is that so bad?” You murmur slowly, removing his hand from your cheek. You hear the clatter of armour and he momentarily peers towards the sound. Now!

With a harsh elbow into his temple, you shoot out from under him with a brief stumble and run. For a moment, he’s dazed as his men yell bewildered, “Sire- she-!”

Yeonjun snarls with a breathless laugh, “Huh. Go get her. That sly-.” Yeonjun watches as his knights rattle after her. Though, he doesn’t seem too worried. A smirk lining his lips, his mind thinking back to your lips on his. Oh, how bold you were.

Even if you didn’t admit it, you were perhaps just as insane as he was, for attempting such a stunt. In fact, he was enraged further, because now, he really wanted you. You were no longer ever disposable. He just had to have you.

Still running, you slip here and there as the soil crumbles and gives out. Your eyes widen seeing a pile of rocks and a crevice leading to the ground. That had to be it. Without looking back, you start rolling off the rocks, sheer adrenaline pushing you through, you begin to see the cobwebbed and dark hole leading into the ground. It seemed it hadn’t been used in awhile. You didn’t even know where the fuck this headed.

You hear the knights approach. Fuck it, you couldn’t risk being trapped here for eternity. Closing your eyes and inhaling, you jump down, hissing in pain feeling the jagged stones and soil against your skin, it burned; as you slid down. Keeping your eyes shut, to avoid the claustrophobic surroundings. Dreadfully you hear the soil and ground behind you, crack and crumble and any semblance of light goes out. Oh right, the ground was unstable!

Prying your eyes open, you break out into a sprint once more seeing the passage behind you collapsing in on itself. How fucking horrifying. Tears run down your face.

Meanwhile, the knights peer from the ground mortified at the closed in burrow. Surely, you’d die? Yeonjun walks up to the sight and his gaze darkens.

“Huh, you all are more useless than expected,” his voice is eerily calm, sending utter fear through all the knights as they pale. Yeonjun crosses his arms and he hums, “It’s alright.” He gazes past the hedges through the bars of the extravagantly tall fence. Hm, this was the older burrow that Soobin used, yes? If I recall, this should go through Hatter and Hare’s territory.”

The knights peer solemnly at the crumbling burrow. Oh dear, that was a place in Wonderland everyone wanted to avoid. For that place is where one would experience death. Not that of the body, but of the mind, but of sanity.

Yeonjun hums with a flick of his wrist nonchalantly to the seething rage boiling underneath his calm exterior. His lips quirk into a sadistic smile, “It’s fine. Once she stumbles into the Hatter or that pathetic Hare, she’ll regret everything. In fact,” a chuckle leaves his lips, “She’ll be begging to come back here.”

Silence emits from the knights. Well, that’s if you didn’t suffocate to death of course.

Yeonjun snaps his head over his shoulder sending a dark gaze at the small troop of knights and he smiles a little too sweetly. “Oh, and for your incompetence to catch my guest. I’m afraid, I’m not too happy.” Yeonjun turns to face them fully and hums ruthlessly, “What good are cards that I have no use for in my deck?”

They stiffen, horror painting their faces and limbs trembling. “Savour your necks, whilst you have them, that is.” He walks past them with a dark glare and malevolent smile.

Perhaps, he’d have to take up the Hare on his repulsive invite after all. Either way, you’d find out very quickly, what a mistake it was to leave him.

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[ssailormoonn]

❛ Princess ❜

GoldenAge!Griffith X fem!princess!Reader

| YANDERE THEMES | SFW |

WC; 1.3k + | !MDNI! | TW/CW; reader is implied to be charlottes sister!! use of '{Y/n}', yandere themes, just griffith choosing his next victim, dark content, possessive behaviour

i spent a lot of time writing this and making sure everything i wrote was perfect, i hope you all enjoy😣 - honey

m.list | berserk m.list

His armor was reflected with all the colors of the light that entered through the stained-glass windows on the building: deep red and orange hues that symbolically presented unity and power in the kingdom of Midland. The weight of the moment: heavy with expectations on your shoulder, rests while you stand amidst the gathering of nobles.

"Commander Griffith," your father meted the acknowledgment, and Griffith stepped in front of the King, Queen, and the two princesses, bowing in respect, his cascading white hair lying over his shining silver armor.

"Princess {Y/n}," your father called out in command, gesturing for you to proceed forward. You step forward with elegance as the waves in your waves of elegance in your navy dress continued to spread behind you. You step with exactness, moved with exactness—in exactness, in every motion that had been rehearsed over and over before attaining the said standing you were in. The eyes of court watched observantly, discreet in their surveillance of your every movement.

The moment you arrived at Griffith, you extended your hand with fingers so graceful and poised. He took it gently. His armor was cold against your skin. His lips were elusive as a soft kiss and lingered a second too long; the kiss hung at the edges of the proper and correct.

He was flexing power in such a subtle way—it was subtle, but he knew.

There was something kind in the manner and, at the same time, some veneer into which intention had been collected.

A shiver ran down your spine as his ice-blue gaze caught yours, his eyes raising from his bow. Something predatory glistened in his eyes, something that made one wonder or a key piece of a game that only he knows if one was nothing more than a pawn in his grand design.

"It is truly an honor to finally meet you, Princess," came that smooth, well-oiled voice of Griffith's. The crowd murmured in approval; all sounds echoed through the cavernous cathedral.

Yet, somewhere beneath the polite exchanges, a person could sense something more going on here: the veiled calculations, the faint flickers of ambition that had put Griffith in this position of power.

His gaze never left yours as he dropped your hand. He was watching you, looking through you, perhaps, for the best way to bend you to his whim.

You belonged to him, whether you understood that you were a pawn, queen, or maybe something between.

It was a sea of faces, the whole of the cathedral at that moment respectfully concentrating over the play unfolded in front of their eyes. Nobles, ecleastics, distinguished guests filled the pews, eyes glued to the action being played out between Griffith and yourself. The tension in the room was tangible; together, they breathed as if they awaited the next moment.

There is something commanding in Griffith's presence, captivating in his aura, but unconsciously repellent. Consciously, even the way he was holding your hand was soft, and his kiss, in which almost imperceptible pressure was put, was calculated.

You could feel the pulse of that moment, the silent exchange between the two of you speaking volumes more than the mere touch could have done. It was as though he had claimed you, staked his territory—marking you as his before the whole court.

Your father stood immovable behind you, his face stoic, although you knew the tiny glint in his eyes betrayed a hint of his concern. Generations had passed with the royal family playing this game of power and politics, but Griffith was a new breed; he was silky, composed, with a burning will like the colored rays cast off the stained glass across his armor.

Griffith eventually released your hand but he did not break the eye contact. There was something in the way he looked at you, something that seemed as though, if he needed to, he could see through all of the falseness and look way past it.

There was something uncanny in this silence, something perhaps even rather fascinating in another way, something that simply could not fail to grip the attention. Breath was heard murmuring from all the corners when whispers spotted around in the crowd: Where the discussions carried would be so imperative in the history books for the fate of the kingdom?.

"For me, to serve Midland and its royal family is an honor," Griffith spoke, and there was just a subtle current of authority in his voice. His gazes never left yours, and you realized this wasn't just a formal introduction.

This was more.

A relationship that would all be about his control and your compliance.

Something dark glinted beneath those warm eyes of Griffith. It wasn't the supple quality in his voice, or even the grace in his movement; it was the way his eyes locked onto yours, as though no one else in that room counted.

You were regarded, Princess, as if he'd your life already mapped out: each decision you'd make.

And that, somehow, no matter what, you belonged to him.

During dinner, his eyes never left you for long. He listened to everyone else, chuckled at their stories, contributed some bromide to some noble's question, but you knew his attention was on you.

You rose from the head table; his eyes followed you, following every step you made.

You could feel the weight of it, a possessive intensity making you hyperaware of his presence.

You would see, as others tried to draw you into a conversation, his expression never waivered—just a polite smile—but that little tightness in the jaw, that cold flash in the eyes. You could see him staring as if to say, 'Back off'—with the eyes.

Featuring the eventual success of placing yourself in one of the quieter corners, far enough from the hustle, Griffith was now standing at your side, seemingly as if he emerged from the shadows. His steps soundless, his calves dragging his tensiled body closer and closer to you, so close that he might have been radiating heat.

"Princess. Princess {Y/n}," he began, his voice a bare hiss overlaid with tension. "I've been waiting for this moment."

He was so near it was unnerving; there he stood, quite imposing. It's as if he were ever growing near to your personal space, one and two feet at a time, awaiting you to crack. He had a twinkle in his eye, almost as if he were sick with pleasure.

"Great Lord Griffith," you replied, trying to hold your bearings, "I never knew you to be so interested in the lines of succession for the royal family."

Griffith's smile slowly grew slightly predatory. "The royal family is dear to my heart," he said, though his look stayed upon you. "And you, Princess, are perhaps the most interesting of them all. Your beauty, your grace, it is as if it was a destiny made for greatness; I could not conceive of this land without you being lined up in some succession for the throne."

His words were full of praise, as if he spoke with a possessor's lilt, but not like he was talking of you, but to you, and ever watching your eyes, and you were cold in that warm hall. Not that he was interested in you; by the way he spoke, you belonged to him already, as if he had a right to determine your future as his property.

Griffith touched his fingers to your wrist—just an elusive touch, and yet it sends shivers down your spine, not out of pure love but out of a silent claim, as if he were thinking of you as something to be owned or to be mastered in existence.

"We could do so much together," he murmured as his voice lowered, becoming intimate. "Just think of the power, the influence. Together, there is nothing we could not do. You're mine, Princess, and you know you're mine too, right?"

His words were a trap, expertly laid to draw you in, to make you feel that you had no choice but to agree with him. The possessiveness in his gaze, the way it seemed to lock out the rest of the world—well, that was all according to his masterful maneuvering.

You stood there, very aware of the weight of his presence. You realized Griffith was not just some leader; he was nature itself, something unbreakable by his will for something and with the intent of taking it.

Do not steal, copy, modify, etc Reblogs and likes are appreciated

m.list | berserk m.list

[lovverletters]

Yandere! Prince × Royalty! Reader

Note that this is a reupload from my previous blog @hyerinrose

T/W : Possessive behaviour, murder, threats, abuse of power, implied forced marriage, controlling behaviour, the drabble kinda lowkey ass

•┈••✦ 🎀✦••┈•💌•┈••✦ 🎀 ✦••┈•

💌Yandere! Prince who were the heir to a prosperous kingdom ruled with an ironed fist by both the King and Queen.

🎀Yandere! Prince who were molded to become the perfect heir to the throne once his father passes. However it comes with a cost of his childhood being close to nonexistent.

💌Yandere! Prince who haven't lost his sanity yet because of you, his childhood friend. You were a royal too like him and the two of you bonded over the struggles of being in line for the throne together. You were the light to his dark depressing life.

🎀Yandere! Prince who grow possessive of you as you two grow older. He was already controlling over you when you were kids, not letting you having another friend other than him. But it only get worse now that you both are adults. Your beauty and worth are attracting too many suitors. He can't have that happened, you're going to be taken away from him!

💌Yandere! Prince who uses his power and influence to chase away your suitors, even at the cost of his parents being angry at him. It doesn't matter, if it mean he can keep you all to himself, that's all that matters. You matter the most to him, no one and nothing can change that.

🎀Yandere! Prince who's last straw snapped after finding out you were to be wed to another foreign royal. That night he poisoned his father and mother and set to become the new ruler of his kingdom the next day. He'd do anything, if it meant cancelling your engagement so you can be wed to him instead.

Drabble under the cut!

💌Short Drabble bc why tf not :

You were currently in a carriage and on your way to pay your friend a visit. After receiving the devastating news of the King and Queen passings, you immediately rushed to comfort your grieving friend, Prince Victor.

His parents sudden deaths meant that he'd rose to the throne to continue ruling his kingdom. You pitied your friend predicament, with becoming a King comes a huge responsibility.

"Poor Vic.. he must be overwhelmed and under so much pressured right now.." You muttered while looking at the scenery outside the window.

"We've arrived, your highness"

The coachman opens the carriage door and stepped aside for you to descend before bowing.You thanked him and made your way inside the palace, it's usual powerful aura felt gloomy with the loss of the King and Queen.

"[Name], how kind of you to pay me a visit"

You heard Victor's voice from behind you.Turning around you enveloped the taller man in a hug, catching by surprise. He recovered immediately and reciprocate it albeit a bit too tightly for comfort.

"Vic! I was looking for you.. and of course I would, the King and Queen are like a family to me. Also, I wanted to be there for you in this rough time"

Victor felt his face burning up at your words, oh if only you knew he was the one behind his parents deaths. You wouldn't be comforting him like you are now.

"I'm glad to hear that, [Name]. We consider you as one too"

After all, you would be part of his bloodline soon once you are wed to him after the period of mourning is over.

For now he'll just have to play up the act of grieving for his parent's deaths.

•┈••✦ 🎀✦••┈•💌•┈••✦ 🎀 ✦••┈•

[faeriichaii]

Could I request a Legolas x Elf Reader .

Were the Reader is a apart of the guard along with him and taruiel . The reader and Legolas grew up together .

The reader goes out on patrol with a group to kill the spiders that were getting too close to Mirkwood borders but as the weather turns sour as the group returns but Legolas notices the reader isn't with them and sets out to find the reader

Stormy Patrol ~ Legolas x Elf!Reader

A/N: Ohhh that's cute!! I really hate spiders (well I mean if they don't hurt me I won't hurt them tbh) funfact but I was dressed as an elf yesterday and like idk this story made me feel as if I was there as well and like saw everything happen haha I kinda wrote it while I was pretty tired so idk how it turned out hahaha But yeah I hope you enjoy the story!!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: fluff ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 1.5k࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Meleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: Tauriel and you were out on patrol without Legolas. But a storm takes you by surprise, resulting in you getting lost in the dark forest.

Placing a few arrows into your quiver, you got ready to go on patrol with Tauriel and Legolas. The three of you have known each other since childhood, constantly meeting up and playing with each other. And the bond between you only grew as time passed. So did also your feelings for Legolas, which merged from merely friendly feelings, to your heart beating faster as soon as your eyes meet. “Are you ready to go out (Y/N)?” Tauriel asked you, as she stood in the doorway. Her bow was in her hand, while her quiver was strung across her back.

“Yes.” Taking your own weapons, you followed her through the door and out into the garden of the palace. “Isn’t Legolas going to join us?” You ask her. A little chuckle left her, as she gently smiled at you. She knew about your fondness towards the prince. It was very obvious to her as your behaviour began to change subtly so she once asked you about it and you told her everything. Even the doubts you had that he would reciprocate the feelings.

“You should tell him sometime.” She suddenly said, as the both of you began to meet up with a few other guards. A sigh left your lips. “I want to, but I do not wish to risk our friendship over some silly feelings that will pass eventually.” “But you don’t even know what he feels. Have you ever considered, that he might be in love with you? I see how he looks at you.” You tilt your head to the side at her words. “What do you mean?” “The prince looks at you as if you were his world. How come you don’t notice that?” Tauriel asks you.

Warmth spread across your face, as you looked ahead at the trees of Mirkwood. “I absolutely have no idea what you are talking about.” She rolled her eyes at your dismissal, before standing in front of the group of guards. “We will now enter Mirkwood. Everyone, please remain in formation and remember all the training sessions if we end up under any kind of attack.” After her speech, she takes the spot beside you and together you enter the forest.

Cold air seeps through the layers of your clothes, making you shiver as you wandered through Mirkwood. “Legolas had to attend a very important meeting with the king.” Tauriel broke the comfortable silence between the both of you. “Do you know what the meeting was about?” She shrugged her shoulders at your question. “Probably something about the upcoming festival.” You knew that the festival was in a few days and you even got yourself a few new garments for the occasion. You even got some accessories for your hair. “Are you going to attend the festivities?” “I was thinking about it but-“ Tauriel suddenly stopped talking, as she heard the sound of some twigs snapping close by.

Instantly, everyone got their weapons ready and got into formation. Your fingers tightly held onto your bow, as you made sure to properly align the arrow. Suddenly, a few spiders jumped through the bushes. Firing the arrows, you made sure that they couldn’t get the chance to take anyone of you down. Slowly rain began to pour down, as your patrol group took down spider after spider. However, it seemed like there were more than you expected. A guard close to you got himself stuck in one of the webs. Quickly taking out the daggers, you sliced him free, before launching the sharp object at another one of the spiders.

The rain got heavier, making it almost impossible to see the enemies in front of you. Stumbling you look for Tauriel. Spotting her further away, you shoot an arrow at the spider in front of her, making her turn to you. “I think we should retreat.” You shout at her, the rain almost swallowing your words. She nodded at you, before signing everyone to get back towards the castle grounds.

Swiftly you were thrown to the ground by a force on your back. You kicked with your legs and wriggled around, until the thing was thrown off of you. Taking your dagger into your hand you sliced through it, before quickly standing up and running away from the spiders. Stumbling through the woods, you searched for Tauriel and the other guards, but you couldn’t find them. The rain was pouring down heavily around you, as thunder clapped through the sky. Panick slowly began to settle in your heart. You didn’t know where you were and you lost all of your group members. Being alone in Mirkwood during a storm is one of the things you have been warned about as a child. In general, being alone in this forest is something that was not recommended. Of course, you had to memorize your way around the area at some point, but this did not make it any less dangerous. Especially during such weather.

A lightning bolt lit up the dark sky. You spun around in circles, as you continued to pass through trees. The rain began to lessen up which made you feel a little more hopeful about your situation. Another thunder shook through the forest, making you flinch in the process. There need to be some kind of shelter somewhere around here. Even the palace grounds could not be that far off. Looking around, you spot a dark silhouette in the distance. You squint your eyes, as you watch them begin to approach you. Your grip around your daggers tightened, not knowing if the person is a friend or fiend. That is until you spot his white-blonde hair.

“(Y/N)!” Legolas quickly approached you. His hair was slightly damp, which lead you to believe that he must not have been outside for long. He quickly wrapped his arms around your drenched body, before dragging you towards the familiar building. “What happened? Why weren’t you with the others?” “A spider tackled me to the ground and I just lost my group.” His arm around you tightened, as he pulled you closer toward his warm body. Once inside, he handed you a warm fluffy blanket, before ordering you to take a seat by the fireplace.

“I just am glad that Tauriel immediately came to me and explained the situation.” A soft smile graced his lips. Shivering slightly, you scoot closer towards him for warmth. “I apologize my prince. I did not mean to worry you in any kind of way.” Your eyes were casted down, highly focused on your fingers that slowly began to gain a healthy colour once more. Legolas fingers gently lifted your face up to his. “It is okay Meleth Nin. I just am so glad to know that you are safe once more.”

A blush dusted your cheeks, as the endearment he just muttered echoed inside your head. Meleth Nin. Never had he called you that before. “I wanted to tell you that during the festivities, but I think now would be a better timing to confess.” “Confess?” You tilted your head to the side, as you stared into his eyes. They always remind you of stars or jewels. The way they shine so brightly when he talks to you. Legolas suddenly laid his hand against your cold cheek, making you lean into his touch.

“Confess my love to you. I have loved you since ages but I did not know how to tell you that. I was worried about how you would react and how this would change the relationship we had.” His thumb wiped away a water droplet that fell from your hair. “I was worried as Tauriel arrived without you. She explained what happened and I immediately went outside to search for you. But during that time, I realized that I had to tell you about my feelings. I wanted to wait until the festival to make it somewhat more romantic, but I just can’t wait this long.”

Smiling at him, you put your hands on each side of his face. “I love you Legolas. I have loved you so long and I even constantly told Tauriel about it.” A chuckle left his lips, before he placed them upon yours. Warmth spread through your entire body, as you pulled him closer to you. His lips were warm and soft. Exactly like you always have imagined. It felt as if you were kissed by the sun. Gentle and warm. Pulling away, the both of you smiled at each other for a moment, before Legolas decided to stand up. His hand was stretched out for you. Taking it, you stood up beside him. “How about you change out of your wet clothes and afterwards I can braid your hair?” You giggled at his proposition. “I think that sounds like the perfect plan, but only if you allow me to braid your hair as well my prince.” He gave your knuckles a gentle kiss. “Of course, anything you wish for Meleth Nin.”

[movedtone0mile]

regal antics

prince!haechan x maid!F!reader

warnings: enemies to ???, donghyuck is annoying and pretentious, but honestly Y/N is kind of a bad person too, this is not a healthy relationship ok, angst, mention of alcohol, smut, unprotected sex, not healthy dynamics overall

word count: 6.5K

summary: Y/N does not put up with Donghyuck’s antics, and it is often irritating to serve him, but soon, he’ll have to marry and the king has decided that it will be better for his son to know what to do on his wedding night. Or where Y/N, maid of the capricious prince Donghyuck is requested to sleep with him, in order to prepare for his upcoming wedding.

A/N: I struggled a lot with this one, and I gave it up a lot of times too. I’m not sure I’m very satisfied with it in the end, but I spent too much time on it so here it is. I honestly fear that the transition to enemies to whatever it is, may be too rushed. I hope you don’t feel this way but if it’s the case I’m so sorry :(

His Majesty the Prince Donghyuck was as capricious as a baby. He was narcissistic, egoistical and whiny. The day he would become king would be, for sure, the death of your city.

But you owed the royal family, and could not refuse your king anything, so you served his son as a maid regarding of your dislike of his character. You, as opposed to the other servants, did not care to hide your feelings about the prince’s behaviour -you knew the king and queen liked you too much to throw you out of the palace anyway.

“Y/N!” A straining voice called out to you. Here was his majesty…Turning around, you bowed in front of him, asking with the sweetest tone you could manage to let out, how you could help him. “You could do me a favour yes, pick up some oranges for me. I could use something to eat.” He asked, not even looking at you. Rolling your eyes, you made your way to the market, you knew better than to argue with him. You passed the palace gates wondering how Dongyuck could be so lazy, considering that he spent most of his days singing and playing the lyre while lying on a sofa. But it was not your place to think about this.

The walk to the market was quite refreshing nonetheless, you were relieved to be away from Donghyuck when his father was back from his trips in the mountains to hunt. He was even worse than usual when it was like this. Of course, you pitied the other servants who were way more patient than you were, but you had the feeling that the prince relished annoying you. When you returned to the palace courtyard with a drizzle of oranges, Donghyuck was fast asleep on the sofa. You shook him, handing him the net. “Your Highness, I have the oranges you asked for.” You told him. He rubbed his eyes, sitting up. He took one of the oranges and you watched him peel the skin off each quarter of the fruit. 

Reaching out a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, he asked you, “Y/N, do ever get tired of serving me?” Your eyes furrowed, unsure about how you should answer this question. You paused and thought about it for a moment before answering carefully, “Well, I must say it can be quite challenging sometimes, but I take pride in my work.” He smiled, amused. “You take pride in your work hmm…” He mused with a raised eyebrow. 

As you prepared to argue, you were interrupted by the footsteps of a servant, visibly running in your direction. Arriving at your level, she bowed down in front of the prince before she spoke, “I am sorry to interrupt Your Majesty, but your father, the king is asking for Y/N.” Raising your eyebrows, you watched the girl taking back her breath. The prince’s gaze went from you to the servant and he waved. “Well, go do the work you take so much pride in,” he said, a condescending smile on his face. You knew he was making fun of you, but that was nothing new, he always did. So, without giving him the pleasure of losing your temper, you followed the young girl inside the palace. 

She took you to His Majesty’s room, you wasted no time in knocking on the door, worried that something might be wrong. A hoarse voice allowed you in and one of the guards outside the room opened the doors for you and you bowed low as you entered the room. “Your majesty, you asked for me.”

“Yes, come sit child.” The old man was sitting on one of the various red velvet sofas and motioned you to one next to his. A bit awkwardly, you sat down, waiting for instructions. “Y/N, what I am about to ask you is very embarrassing I must say.” He said, looking quite uneasy. “As you may know, my son, Donghyuck, will soon be married.” You nodded your head, the reminder making you feel bad for the lady who was going to become Donghyuck’s spouse. The king cleared his throat before pursuing, “I am sure I am not the one teaching you this, but… It is customary for young men to already be experienced once they wed.” You furrowed your eyebrows, “Your Majesty, I am not quite sure I understand what you are referring to.”

“Well, I am talking about the wedding night…” Heat rushed to your cheeks. “You see, I trust your discretion, but unlike the other young men of his stature, Donghyuck has never visited courtesans.” Your eyes widened at his revelation. It was much more than you wanted to know about him. “He also never had close friends, so I am almost certain when I say that he has never had any experience.” 

Confusion written on your face, you thought about it again. That Donghyuck never had a friend was absolutely certain, no one could put up with his whims for more than a few days, but that a member of the royal family, as self-sufficient as him, never had an affair with a prostitute or a servant, was hard to believe. However, the more you thought about it, the more confused about your role in this situation you were.

“Your Highness, I do not understand why you are entrusting this to me.” You told him, crossing and uncrossing your legs. “I have thought about it, and I think that you would be the only one who could actually teach him a thing or two.” He phrased, cautiously, but your mouth had already hung open. “But your highness, I work at the palace every day, I do not think I could be the most qualified person to take up this task. You may hire someone whose profession revolves around it.” You argued. 

It was true that you had already had affairs. Servants had to, who else would love them? They had little to no family, and they did not have time to leave the palace for anything other than work. You had to look for love elsewhere. So yes, you had already shared your bed with other servants, but there were certainly a good hundred people in the city who would be better for this task. “I know, and I will, if you refuse, but I had to ask you. I know, even though he would never admit it, my son has respect for you, and I would like him to learn with someone he likes, at least before he meets his future wife.”

You had to hold back a snort. Donghyuck, liking you? Even, you weren’t sure if he knew what the word “respect” stood for -except when it was due to him, indeed. But, it made you think about it for a second. After all, it would probably be best for the lady who was going to marry him if he practised with the only person in the kingdom not to be afraid of him, -she was miserable enough already. The king must have known that you would be brave enough to tell Donghyuck if he was doing something wrong, and the dots started to connect in your mind too. Also, it could be a great opportunity to have the prince vulnerable and take the upper hand. Now, that did not sound like a bad idea.

“With all the respect I have for you, I must think about it, before giving you my answer.” You bowed once again. “Of course, I give you a week. I do not want to force your hand, but I would really like you to consider it.” When you left the room, you were still puzzled. For the king to ask you this seemed unbelievable, and you scolded yourself mentally for even considering it. How could you even picture yourself in Donghyuck’s bed? He was the most irritable human being you have ever met, it was already difficult to bear talking to him, so considering touching him… 

You made your way to your room as fast as you could, you needed to be alone and think about what just happened. 

꧁ ♡ ꧂

In the quiet of your room, you hid under your blanket, ashamed about the thoughts running inside your head. Of course, Donghyuck was handsome, very handsome. Much more than any person you ever knew -he wouldn’t let someone prettier than he was around him anyway. But he was unbearable. And nothing could change that. In years of serving him, he never showed any sympathy, for you or anyone other than himself. It was hard to imagine him in an intimate situation anyway. He always seemed so detached, it was difficult to believe that he could be an attentive lover. Not that you cared, of course. Pretending to have a fever, you managed to stay in your room for the rest of the day, someone would replace you in the tasks you were supposed to get done, you would have been incapable of facing Donghyuck today. 

꧁ ♡ ꧂

Eventually, you had to step into the real world. Outside of your room. And you did, the next morning. A few other servants asked you about your illness and you offered them your greatest acting skills, telling them that you were still a bit tired, but thankfully, you were recovering fast enough. 

On this day you were assigned to do laundry, along with other girls of about your age. Your knees, bare against the tiled floor, you soaped and scraped pieces of clothing repeatedly in the washtub, until both your wrists and biceps grew sore, and your knees began to burn a little. The sun shone brightly and the air was hot and humid, so much so that you had to wipe drops of sweat that gathered on your neck, rolling down your eyebrows to your eyes, every once in a while. 

If the other girls chatted just a few seconds before, now they had all gone quiet, as light footsteps approached your group.  “Good morning ladies, what are you all up to?” Donghyuck’s annoying voice was a straining nuisance to your ears. “Doing laundry, Your Highness.” You answered before the others, your tone as cold as it could be. “That sounds like hard work for such delicate young ladies. I am sure you would not mind a little help?”

Tilting up your head with widened eyes, you tried to reason with him, “Your Majesty, I am not sure this is a job for you. You should go back to your usual activities.” But he had already rolled his sleeves up and went down on his knees to join y’all. “Oh come on Y/N, do not be so strict. I can handle a little laundry, and I would be delighted to spend some time with such beautiful damsels.” He smiled as he winked at some of the servants. The girls exchanged glances and chuckled as Donghyuck plunged his hands into the soapy water. You, on the other hand, were only wondering what was he up to. The prince never helped with anything -not that it was his place anyway- but if he decided to now, it was probably a new way of his to get on your nerves. 

As usual, you were right, and Donghyuck grew tired of the chore, even more quickly than you had expected. Swinging back, he let out a huge sigh of fatigue. Soon, he started to splash you and the girls, causing them to shriek and laugh. Not amused at all by his actions, you tried your best to stay calm and focus on your task. The girls giggled and blushed, as the prince shamelessly flirted with them. For servants to receive the attention of the prince was something they could not resist, he knew that, and obviously took advantage of it to satisfy his huge ego. Your frustration grew, and you scrubbed the cloth harder by the second. 

Glancing at your companions, you were angry to notice that they all seemed to enjoy themselves. You could not help but feel a bit jealous of their carefree attitude. Why did everything seem so effortless for them, why couldn’t you just get yourself to like Donghyuck, just like they all did? Of course, you understood how he was charming to them, but you just couldn’t overcome his whimsical behaviour. 

Right now, his disruptive presence made it impossible to get any work done. Watching him having fun and them giggling, was getting more and more irritating. Soon, you couldn’t take it anymore and suddenly stood up. “We cannot work with you here.” Looking up at you, Donghyuck raised an eyebrow, “Pardon?” You took a deep breath and continued, aware that you had certainly put yourself in trouble, “I said that we cannot work properly because of you.”

Taken aback by your bravery, he got up on his feet, visibly offended. “Well, if you think I am such a nuisance, I will go find something else to do.” He turned back on his heels and now it was your turn to be taken aback. It was too easy, you had crossed the line, and you had expected him to shout or even lock you up in a cell, but Donghyuck was walking away. When you faced the other girl servants, they glared at you, before resuming their task in silence. Ashamed of having ruined their moment, you lowered your head and plunged your hands back into the water. 

꧁ ♡ ꧂

A day had passed since you last saw the prince. When you asked other servants if they had seen him, they either replied in the negative, or did not reply at all, but the less you heard of Donghyuck, the more anxious you grew. You had the uneasy feeling that he was up to something, something that would make you regret your behaviour of the other day.  

In the evening, you retreated to your room, put on your nightgown and brushed your hair by the bed. A few knocks on your door interrupted you, and you went to open it. “Already in bed?” Well, you should have expected him, but you were still surprised that he knew where your room was. “Your Majesty,” you took a few steps back, embarrassed that he saw you in your night clothes, but you knew you had no right to leave him at the door. “I think we have a few things to discuss, just the two of us,” he said, stepping in and closing the door behind him. 

You stood like this, in awkward silence for a moment, your eyes glued to the ground before he decided to break it. “Well, if you ain’t going to do it yourself, I will have to ask you.” Looking up at him, you noticed that his usual expression had changed. It was not all smirk and raised eyebrows anymore. His face was stern, and you were not used to it. Donghyuck took a step forward. “Apologize.”

“What?” Truth is, you had not expected him to make it to your room only to ask you this. “Why does everything always have to be so hard with you? Can’t you just do what you are told to?” He sighed. You were at a loss for words. You should have been publicly humiliated, locked in your quarters, asked to do extra chores, for having talked to the prince the way you did, not do private apologies. His eyes never left yours, awaiting. 

“I- I am sorry Your Highness, I shouldn’t have talked to you the way I did the other day. It was not my place, and it will not happen again.” you bowed down as you spoke, and he finally cracked a smile when you were finished. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” He was wrong, for you it was. You hated to belittle yourself in front of him. You had no problem obeying someone like his father, someone you had respect for, someone who fulfilled his duties and actually cared about the people under him. But even after so many years, you couldn’t get yourself to accept that you were under Donghyuck. He was self-centred, disrespectful and overall, a kid in a young adult body, who deserved nothing he had.

The way you gritted your teeth did not escape him, and he took even a step further. “You know, you should thank me, for I haven’t ordered you to do this in front of the whole kingdom.” his tone was threatening, and you shivered at the idea of such a humiliating perspective. “Try to keep in mind how generous of a person I am, before you dare to speak to me like that again.” This time, his voice was barely above a whisper, but he was close enough for you to hear. “I will.” You forced the words out of your mouth, your jaw tense.

“Good. I have nothing else to tell you.” Turning back on his heels, he left the room, after giving you one last look, “Good night Y/N.” When the door closed you collapsed at the foot of your bed, your head in your hands. You were going to say yes. 

꧁ ♡ ꧂

“What made you make your decision?” The king asked, at the discretion of his room. You had thought about it, and even if you weren’t thrilled about the idea, you couldn’t miss your only opportunity to give Donghyuck a taste of his own medicine. You were going to enter his intimacy, and take advantage of it to humiliate him, but of course, you could not tell him that. “It is my duty to help the prince when I am asked to, Your Majesty.” He nodded, pleased with your answer, “Thank you Y/N. You really are doing me a favour. I am glad Donghyuck will get to do this with someone like you.” Your cheeks flushed at his words. He told you he would inform Donghyuck, and sent you on your way. 

꧁ ♡ ꧂

Another week had passed, and Donghyuck’s anger towards you transformed into sly grins he would send your way, whenever he got the chance. He had certainly been made aware of it now.

Ever since His Majesty told you He would tell His son about what He had planned for him, you imagined every possible scenario. But no matter how hard you tried, it seemed impossible for you to predict what his reaction would be. Was he going to be glad? Mad? Embarrassed? Anyways he would, with no doubt, laugh at you for accepting such a proposition. And he would be right to do so. What were you thinking? You still had no idea when, where and how it was going to happen. You were simply left with that idea in your mind, like a Damocles sword above your head. 

Today it was your turn to make the Prince’s bed, and as you spread the silk sheets on the mattress, you caught yourself wondering if you were going to lay in that same bed he was sleeping in. Were you going todo it here? Where else? Not in your room, Donghyuck was too delicate to go into the servants’ quarters a second time anyways. At the reminder of his personality, you shook your head and resumed stretching the sheets. How were you supposed to be intimate with Donghyuck, out of all people? And how could you even imagine that he would be less intolerable in a bedroom?

“Y/N?” a soft voice interrupted your train of thought. You turned your head to face a chubby girl with red cheeks. She wore a grey uniform with an apron, she was a maid, just like you. “I was requested by His Majesty to come and fetch you later in the evening.” She said, looking at her feet. When you opened your mouth to ask if she knew what was the matter, she continued, as if in a rush, “I just had to let you know.”, before disappearing in the hallway. 

So this was it. It was for tonight. You went on with your tasks for the day as if you had a fever. There was a constant buzzing in your ears that you were certain you were imagining, and your head spinned every once in a while. When you were finished, you went back to your room, to prepare for God knows what was going to happen. You figured you should be at least presentable, so you changed your maid uniform for the only dress you had that wasn’t one, and took care of arranging your hair. Once done, you looked at your reflection in the mirror, puzzled. What were you doing? 

You heard the knocking on your door but continued to stare at yourself. It was your last chance to change your mind. 

꧁ ♡ ꧂

The girl with the red cheeks led you to the princely suite, and when you both got to the door, she stopped next to it, as if to signal that she was not going in with you. You should have expected that, but on the other hand, you couldn’t help but want a bit of support. However, it had been your decision, and now you had to face the consequences alone. 

Standing straight, you took the deepest breath you ever took and pushed the doors with all the strength you could gather. When you stepped in, the door closed behind you on its own, and you were left alone, in the dim light of the room. Well, not quite alone indeed, Donghyuck was sitting in a velvet chair, not far from the fireplace warming and illuminating the place. You had not been alone together since he forced you to apologize the other day, and you apprehended his next move. 

Eventually, he looked your way, eyes slowly taking in your appearance, from the hem of your dress to your neatly styled hair. “Well, this is pretty uncommon to see you all dressed up.” he sneered with his chin up. He was not going to make it any easier. Neither were you. “This is far from my usual tasks, Your Majesty.” He narrowed his eyes defensively as you took one step forward. “But I must admit, this is one of the most tedious ones, so far.” Donghyuck’s eyes widened, and he let out a chuckle. “Tedious? Are you implying that sleeping with me is boring?” You smirked, “How could you know?” 

You noticed his jaw tensing. Now, you did not regret your decision at all, you had your revenge. There was a moment of silence, you could almost hear the sound of him gritting his teeth. The thrill of excitement that rushed through you at this exact moment, was like nothing you had experienced in the past. You wished you could stay like this forever, and watch him drown in humiliation.

“Well, you did not come here to quarrel now, did you?” he inquired, his eyebrows frowned and his hand holding the armrest harder than it should. “I did not.” Another step closer. “Have a drink, otherwise I fear it will be impossible to do what you came here to do.” he sighed, pointing at one of the two goblets set on the coffee table. You watched him, wary. “You talk as if I am the one who needs this.” You could tell by his reaction that you had hit a nerve, again. “Sit, please.” With a hand supporting his head, he motioned at a chair facing his. You figured that at least for once tonight, you could do what you were told to and sat. 

“Listen, I know you despise me,” he stated, his voice softer, leaning to pour wine into both goblets, “but I do not.” You grabbed the goblet, nervous to have something this expensive in your hands. Donghyuck raised his to his lips and sipped eagerly. “You do not wonder what I mean by that?” he asked, curious. Taking an experimental sip, you grimaced at the sour taste of the drink, before answering, “No. I know you. I know that you thrive in watching people anguish about what you may think of them, but I do not feel this way.” Setting down his drink, he smirked at your declaration. “You know, you are not as good at lying as you think you are.” taking a pause, he stood up, and crossed the six feet distance between you both in an instant. As he placed both of his hands on the armrests of your chair, you sank into your seat, caged in. “You are not special Y/N, you care about what I think of you, just like everyone else. The only difference is that you love to pretend that you hate me.” He said with a low voice that you did not know him, and a shiver ran down your spine. 

He had never been so close. So close that you could feel his hot breath on your face. Instinctively, you closed your eyes, now aware of all the lines you had crossed since the moment you entered his bedroom. “No, no, do not flinch now. I thought you came here on a mission?” His chortle did not help you regain the courage you just lost. “I bet you accepted my father’s absurd proposition to make fun of me, hmm? You thought that it would be your chance to mock me. To finally take the upper hand.” he took a step back, “But where is that confidence now?” You hated his condescending tone, he was talking to you as if you were pathetic, but he was right, you couldn’t even lift off your seat. 

“I always knew you were all bark no bites. Now that you finally have the occasion to get back at me, you sit here and stare at me with your eyes wide open,” he added, looking down at you with raised eyebrows. You stayed like this for a while, in the silence of lead, before he let out a long sigh. “Why did you accept this stupid idea, Y/N? We are not going to make love, we cannot even be in the same room without squabbling. I do not understand why my father asked you, out of all people.” 

“He said that you liked me.” You spoke under your breath and you caught his eyes widening in surprise. “Like you?” You gripped the fabric of your skirt, looking down at your hands. “What does he know? He mumbled through gritted teeth. Gathering your courage, you got up on your feet, “This was a mistake. I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” You stuttered, “I should go.” With that, you rushed to the door, ready to leave, but his hand gripped your wrist, holding you back.

“Y/N, stay.” You turned around to face him. “You just said that all of this was stupid, and I agree with you.” You spat, louder than before, “I will return to my room, and both of us are going to act as if this never happened.”

Tugging a bit on your wrist, he managed to pull you closer and asked, “Now that you have pictured yourself in my bed, will you really be able to act as if nothing happened?” It was back. That smug smirk on his face you hated so much. And that complacent attitude of his… 

Raising his hand, it reached for your face and when he cupped your cheek, you were so dumbfounded that you couldn’t even argue. “Oh, I’m sure you’ve imagined it at least once or twice… But I cannot blame you, I did too.” He whispered the last words, and you considered having misheard them. He raised his eyebrows in a teasing manner, he was trying to undermine you. But it would not work, not if you could get him to submit first. 

Taking a step closer, you grabbed his shoulders to connect your lips fervently. You closed your eyes not to see him, but you felt his, wide open in shock. Pushing you back gently, Donghyuck broke the kiss, staring right at you, astonished. “What did you just do?” he let out in a strange voice that you never heard him use. He sounded confused, but most importantly, he was visibly lacking confidence. You had succeeded at weakening him.

His gaze travelled from the ground to your face, which he stared at for a moment, breathing audibly, before he grabbed both of your arms and pulled you against him in another kiss. He moved his lips against yours feverishly and squeezed the flesh of your arms way too hard, but as horrifying as this may sound, it wasn’t so terrible. Kissing Donghyuck was nothing like what you had imagined, and if you had drank more of that wine earlier, you might have admitted that you liked it. Without realizing it, both of you had melted into each other’s embrace, and you kissed for several minutes. When you pulled away for air, you still looked at each other with animosity, you weren’t lovers, you were rivals, you had always been, but for once, you were actually on the same level.

“So, are we going to do it?” he asked, out of breath. You chuckled, letting your guard down for once, “You really don’t know how to do this, do you?” Letting you go, he threw himself on the bed, “You know what, since it is what you came here for, and you are so experienced, show me what you are capable of.” He said, putting his hands behind his head in a laid-back manner. You climbed on the bed with him, kneeling next to his body. With your breath held, you slowly untied the ropes of his shirt, as if you had no mastery over your actions. Oh, you were going to show him.

Judging that you were taking too long, he took out his shirt and every garment underneath, himself, before pushing you onto him. You do not know what took over you, but as you were laying on top of his naked chest, you kissed him once again. It was so much better like this. With his soft lips on yours, when he couldn’t get to talk. It was addictive. He tasted like honey, and he was so much more likeable in this position. Not breaking the kiss, Donghyuck managed to loosen your dress, exposing the skin of your shoulders to his hungry eyes. He was letting out breathy moans between kisses and began to mindlessly rut his hips into yours. 

Suddenly, he pushed you down on the mattress so you were laying on your stomach. Your first reaction was to laugh at the brutality of his action. “Oh please, don’t act like you know what you are doing.” You sneered. “You know, I haven’t quite made up my mind about you talking back,” he said, hovering over you, straddling the back of your thighs, “I don’t know if I hate it, or if I secretly enjoy it.” Without you paying much attention to it, a smile drew on your face. Maybe you finally found a way to fight without it being too unpleasant… 

Now that you were back to him, he was all over your neck, kissing it as if you were lovers. Lifting your skirt, he reached for your garments and pulled them down. You were starting to get dizzy, you did not mind being exposed to him like that right now, his kisses made up for everything, somehow. You heard him pull his pants down enough to free his hard cock and a shiver ran down your spine when you felt his length against your entrance. “Do not worry, I may be an amateur, but I know the basic theory on the subject.” he chuckled, sliding it against your wet folds for lubrication. It was almost embarrassing how excited his ministrations had gotten you, an hour ago you couldn’t stand the thought of his very existence. 

Slowly, he entered you with a loud groan, you had to remind yourself that the feeling was new to him. Your walls stretched around him and the sensation of him inside you was far from as disagreeable as you had imagined it. In fact, when he began to thrust into you, which he did not long after bottoming out for the first time, you found yourself gripping the sheets and holding back whimpers. Despite his lack of experience, you made so much fun of, you had to acknowledge that Donghyuck was naturally skilled at it. His movements were smooth and sharp at the same time, and if you weren’t focusing, your head would already be spinning.

The room quickly became steamy, and you were beginning to forget yours despise of each other. Releasing your lip from your teeth, you allowed yourself to sigh and moan as loud as you needed to. After all, Donghyuck himself was everything but quiet. It seemed like he had given up on his pride, at last. He was crying out for the whole palace to hear and gripped your waist for dear life. 

“Tell me you love me.” he panted in your ear. As good as he was making you feel, you could never say that. You hoped that your whimpers would be enough answer to his demand, but he squeezed your waist harder and repeated,“ Please, tell me.” His voice had cracked and he sounded miserable. Maybe he was not making fun of you after all. Grabbing his face from behind, you pushed his head closer to yours, connecting your lips in a desperate kiss. This would have to be enough. 

Donghyuck breathed heavily through his nose, leaning in, impossibly close to you. The kiss was a mix of frustration, neediness, and maybe, something else, but you figured it was in your best interest not to question it too much. When he pulled out to plunge his head into the crook of your neck, his thrusts became even more erratic. You could tell he was coming closer to the edge, but a little voice in your head was screaming that you needed to see this, or perhaps you just craved watching him lose it. 

So you managed to remove him from behind you and pushed him onto his back. He watched you intently as you removed your dress and everything you wore for good, exposing your naked body to him. The snarky remarks a part of you still expected never came. He gazed at your figure for a moment and eventually fumbled with his own clothing. When you were both naked in front of each other, you took a moment to take in the other’s appearance. You never appreciated at their true value, his gold-like skin, and the delicacy of his features, but now you did. He was, indeed, as handsome as he had always bragged about being.

And it took him to look like a mess, his lips swollen and his eyes half-lidded, for you to finally feel tenderness for him. You pitied him. He had always acted like he was above everyone else, when in reality he felt desperately alone and was pathetic enough to beg you to tell him sweet words. Yet, deep down, you could neither forget, nor totally forgive what he had made you go through all these years, and for that, he did not deserve your mercy. 

Grabbing his wrists, you straddled his lap and held his hands above his head, on the headboard. Sinking down on his length, you let out a breathy moan, not only of pleasure but of pure thrill and victory, as you were finally the one looking down at him. You began to move, this new position quickly proving itself to be more pleasurable than the previous one. He was able to reach deeper and your walls were clenching around him, in a way that was driving him crazy. 

You rode him as if it was a way for you to let out all the frustration he had made you feel in years. His eyes were tight shut and he was biting on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. You couldn’t get your eyes off him. You had not realized it before but this was everything you ever dreamt of, to see him like this, at your mercy. 

Droplets of sweat were rolling down between your breasts and shoulder blades. Heat radiated through your burning bodies, and the room was filled with your moans and whimpers. Donghyuck had lost it long ago, maybe if you stopped your movements just for a minute, you would see the tears forming in the corner of his eyes, but you could not. 

You bounced frantically above him, and he was thrusting upwards to meet your hips, it was no different from your regular quarrels. Both of you had something to prove to the other. And you were pleased to finally win in a field. He was clenching his fists and you could see the muscles of his abdomen contract. Letting out a cry that was music to your ears, he came inside of you, his arms trying hard to release themselves from your hold. You felt him twitching between your walls, which got you closer to the edge yourself, and you continued to chase your high as he was experiencing his. 

A few rolls of your hips later, your whole body froze, all your muscles tensing, and you let go of his wrists to claw at the skin of his chest. All the tension inside of you snapped, and at that moment, when the wave of pleasure washed through you, you swore you did not hate Donghyuck anymore. Your view turned blank for an instant, and you let out a raspy groan as you came around him. When you had released them, his hands immediately went to grab your thighs, and Donghyuck was now helping you grind on his lap. 

When the stimulation became too much and your moans turned into cries, he released your thighs and laid you down on your back. He snuggled close to your side, watching your face closely and drawing figures on your belly with the tip of his fingers, and whispered, “What have you done to me? Now I have never been so sure about not wanting to marry.”

part 2!!!

[multific]

Grown to Love You

Ivar the Boneless x Reader

Warnings: mention of smut, murder, kidnapping and obsessive behaviour

Summary: He finds you during a raid. Ivar the Boneless has to have you.

You were all alone and scared when his men found you and brought you to him. One asked if he could have you, but Ivar wanted you for himself.

He loved the fire and hatred in your eyes.

In the beginning, he kept you in his home, he could tell your masked your fear with anger as you tried many times to escape, but you always failed.

Then one day, something happened.

You were just sitting there on the floor. Not cursing at him, not throwing things. Was this your new technique to escape? A new plan perhaps? Pretending that you gave up?

"What are you looking at?" you asked as he kept staring.

"That is not how you talk to your King." but you said nothing, no snarky comeback, you didn't spit at him or kick him. You just sat there, chains around your hands as you looked at the fireplace. He moved from his bed, crawling over to you, much like how he had done before.

You slowly turned and looked at him.

"What is your new plan?"

"I have no plans. Even if I get out of here, I have no home to go back to, you burned my house." he watched your eyes, took him a moment to realize, your fire was gone. No fear, no hatred, no anger.

He won.

You gave up.

"You are mine. You have been since the moment I saw you." his hand moved to lower your dress from your shoulder and kissed your skin.

"Why didn't you touch me before then? If I'm yours?"

"I will never force myself on a woman,"

"You can't even walk."

"Which is why you will have to please me."

"And if I refuse?" a hint, a slight hint of the fire came back for a second before you let out a sigh because as you looked at him, you realized he didn't mean it, the smile on his face and the eyes told you.

"My grandmother warned me about men with blue eyes. She said she had a dream that one day, a man like that would take me and I will be lost. She said it was as if I walked into the darkness. She couldn’t see me after that." you tugged on your chains. "You haven't been as bad to me as I thought you will be. I thought you would... force me, beat me and kill me. But you fed me and kept me warm. Sure, you didn't give me a bed-"

"I told you to sleep next to me."

"How can you be sure I wouldn't kill you?"

"I have sharp senses. I am a warrior." his eyes continued to just watch your every move. "Agree to become my wife and you will have a great life." 

"Wife?"

He nodded. "You will become Queen, you will become fully mine. Not my pet, but my woman. You have nothing to go back to, no one to return to."

"You killed everyone... so I'd stay with you?" he nodded. His eyes shone with something you didn't know, obsession. 

"Your beauty is captivating, I was sure you are a witch. So beautiful and gentle. I saw it in your eyes. And now, you finally gave into me. I will take you as wife, marry me and you will have a life filled with love and care." 

Your grandma was right, looking into his eyes, you walked right into the darkness, right into his arms.

He was obsessed and you were lost.

---

Couple months had passed since you were wed to Ivar.

Living the life of a Viking, you tried your best to understand their traditions and follow their life style.

But it was challenging.

So much so, that when a man commented on it, you saw a side of Ivar you have never seen before.

"What did you say?" Both you and Hvitserk looked at Ivar and then at the man. Ivar was way too calm.

"I said, your Queen is a whore! She is not even a true Viking!" the man was drunk, and probably didn't even realize what he was saying.

One second the man was laughing, clearly not reading the room as everyone sat, frozen. The next moment the man was on the floor with an axe piercing his skull.

"Does anyone else have any comments to my wife?" no one moved, no one took a breath. Ivar started laughing. 

You continued to eat. 

Hvitserk shook his head before grabbing more wine.

"You defended my honour." you turned to Ivar as he sat to take of his armour. 

"I have done that before, you just weren't present."

"Thank you."

"We have been married for months, you know I have deep feelings for you, of course I would defend you."

"I have never seen you so unhinged, so angry yet so calm, everyone was scared of you, I could feel their fear. Everyone was scared, while I was extremely aroused." this made Ivar look at you immediately. Now, topless, only wearing his trousers, he watched you, you shocked him. "You are incredible Ivar. You are so strong, people used to call you a cripple, now they fear your name and I truly realized that tonight. I am married to a true King, and My King, I wish for you to breed me tonight." lust filled your eyes.

Ivar swallowed, he watched you just standing there before you slowly brought your hands up to your shoulders, you moved your dress down as you turned, he didn't see your front, he saw your naked back. You moved onto the bed, watching him as you knelt on the furs.

"Please." your plea was barely audible, but it made him move.

Like a starved beast, he crawled over to you, meeting him halfway on the bed, your lips found his as his hands began to grab at your flesh.

Oh, how he loved this side of you.

You might play an innocent maiden when people were around, but truth was, when the moon was on the highest point of the sky, in the middle of the evening, Ivar could see your true side. You were possibly a siren, on top of him, moving up and down his shaft switching between slow and fast, your pace was always perfect. 

His hands grabbed your flesh, everywhere he could reach, thighs, hips, or breasts. 

Anything he could reach.

But you loved it the most when he sat up, meeting your lips as you still moved on top of him, his hands on your back as his lips were on yours, teeth pulling your bottom lip before moving to your neck and breasts. 

Every evening, his room smelled of sex and fire. 

You laying beside him, with your head on his chest, your finger making patterns on his skin as his arm was around your shoulder or hips. pulling you closer if that is possible.

Yes, he was obsessed with you, and yes you lusted for this man. He might have taken you from your home, trapped you and forced love out of you, but you were still here, swore to love him until your last breath.

"Do you think it worked?" he asked and you had a feeling what he meant.

"I believe, if your God is kind to us, then yes. We might have a child soon."

"Odin is great, I'm not sure if I can have children."

"Why wouldn't you? Your legs never stopped you from spilling your seed in me before. You worry for nothing Ivar, but even if tonight wasn't enough. I will never give up the hope of gifting you a child."

He smiled as you looked up at him, placing a kiss on his chin.

"I can see you with a daughter. She would make you chase her around the room, you would kill anyone for her, she would be perfect."

"Your imagination is quite something, My Love."

"I can also see you with a son. Teaching him your strategies, how to fight and survive, how to be a warrior. Only one child?" you asked.

"As many as you would give me." he replied.

"A lot of children. I would like that, it would mean when you leave for raids, I wouldn't be lonely." He looked into your eyes, seeing his blues as you smiled. You always spoke of such futures, he felt he wasn't good enough to be in them.

Having a lot of children with you was something he didn't even dare to dream about, and yet here you were. Your eyes shining with love and affection as you spoke of possible children with him.

"I love you." he whispered as you felt his palm on your back, pulling you in for a kiss. 

"I love you too, My King." You kissed him on the lips, running your hand through his hair as you soon fell asleep with him.

You woke not long after, you were incredibly thirsty so as quietly as you could, you made your way to get some water. You put on a short gown, which you often slept in.

On your way back to the bed you saw possibly the most amazing view. Nothing could compare. 

A naked Ivar, surrounded by furs as the fire made his skin glow.

His features relaxed as he slept on his back, one arm next to his head, the other laid out, waiting for your return.

Your eyes roamed his chest, running over his tattoos and muscles before you moved your eyes further down, although his cock, which always gave you great pleasure, was hidden under the furs, and your eyes longed on the visible bump before moving back up, the fur was dangerously low, making you thirsty for something other than water.

Ivar was a work of art. You were convinced he didn't even realize how tempting he was.

He moved ever so slightly in his sleep. AS if his subconscious was looked for you, his arm twitched, begging for you to return.

And you did. You moved back on the bed, right where you left from.

Oh, how you wished his seed took, gifting him a child would make you the happiest. You know you had to dissolve every doubt in his mind, but you were ready for the challenge. 

You went back to sleep as his arm moved back to your waist. Slightly pulling you close as he let out a long sigh.

You drifted back to sleep.

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

             DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[sighunderthestars]

Better Luck Next Time: Preview

Genre: Yandere, Fantasy, Dark Romance, Others TBD

Pairing: poly!ateez x fem!reader, (Wooyoung feature)

Summary: You wake up reincarnated from the modern world into the popular book: Royally Enchanted Hearts. Finding yourself as the hated villainess you are determined to make peace and change your fate. But it would appear fate has other ideas.

Warnings: Minors do not interact, yandere/obessive/possive behaviour

a/n: Hi this is my first time publicly writing so please be gentle. I hope you enjoy!

____________________________________________________________

You stared at the beautiful young woman curtsying before the throne. Her skin was fair and complemented by her light pink hair. The chosen dress appeared to be made for her - a soft rose pink, with white floral embroidery down the bodice and flowing skirt.  The puffed sleeves and fitted bodice enhanced her figure, while a floral belt wrapped her waist, accentuating the bows adorning the floral drapes on either side of the skirt. She looked like a fairy out of a novel, as expected of the world female lead.

But her appearance received only a low effort wave of the king’s hand. She remained standing, her grey eyes locking directly with the king’s. 

Centuries seemed to pass before the king raised his brow, “Do you wish to say something?”

Without evening blinking she replied, “I am just admiring Your Majesty’s beauty.” Damn, she was confident.

“A bold one you are.” He said with a forced smile. “Though I must request you do so from elsewhere in the ballroom. There are other guests who have yet to give their greetings.” With that, he looked back to his nails, just as uninterested as before.  

“Excuse me then,” she said, bowing before walking away.

……………….Huh? What just happened? This was a crucial moment in the story!  It was Lady Eris Romero’s first ball since her debut. It was supposed to be a romantic moment when King Hongjoong fall in love at first sight!

A tap on your shoulder instantly pulled you back to reality. You turn to meet Consort Wooyoung with surprise, “Y/N, here try this drink! It seems very popular tonight. If you approve, then we should reward the chef.” 

You cautiously accepted the wine glass of golden liquid from him, glancing between him and the direction where Lady Eris walked off. You only noticed now that none of the other consorts even moved an inch in her direction.

“What’s wrong?” Wooyoung asked, tilting his head in curiosity, as if he didn’t just miss a major event.

Words failed to reach your tongue. Shouldn’t any of the boys be going after Lady Eris? Why was no one moving? This…this was not how the story was supposed to go. 

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Blue Blood and Rain [1]

King John X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info •ko-fi•

Summary: You meet a stranger in the stables.

Series Masterlist

A/N: I have totally made up servant/nobel dynamics because I wanted to and also let's forget about the plot of the film, yes?

Warnings: kissing, reader is in their early 20s, overuse of italics, typos, power dynamics because he's the king, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 2820

________________________________

It wasn’t that going to the royal castle was boring, as much as it was exhausting. And very, very boring, now that you thought about it. 

You were the personal attendant to The Dowager Countess of Bowhale, who was visiting the court for the spring festival with her son, The Earl of Bowhale, a man who was only seven months your senior. They were both on average kind, well-meaning people, even if they were set in their own ways, who paid well and certainly granted you with a degree of personal freedom that you knew many servants didn’t even dream of. 

Hugo, the Earl, was his mother’s, Edith, only surviving child. A fact that obviously made The Countess fiercely protective, however in the last few years that shielding behaviour had metamorphosed into a safeguarding of a different kind: the continuation of the family name. 

Barely a day passed without her bringing up the need for her son to either marry (a complicated matter) or take a mistress.

Which was why she had been hell bent on attending the spring festival to peruse a suitable noble from the court, believing that ‘seeing a young woman face to face is the only way to tell if she would be a good mother to her son’s children.’ 

You helped The Countess into her dress for the evening, making sure you nodded and said, “yes, my lady”, at all the correct moments as she spoke. 

“I think there will be some chance of seeing a suitable suitor tonight, if not tomorrow. I know most of the court is present, but many outer nobles are not arriving until the morning.” 

“Yes, my lady.” You adjusted her skirts. 

“Hugo needs to seriously consider his future, the legacy of his father’s name.” She sighed. “I spoke to him again this morning.” 

“Yes, my lady.” 

“He is as insolent as ever. His father was never like this. I do not know where he gets it from.” 

You smile, “Perhaps his lordship takes his strong-willed nature from his mother, my lady?” 

She looks down at your grinning face and laughs at your tease. “You are terrible my dear,” but she beams and puffs out her chest, enjoying the praise. “And far too kind on him, there’s no way his will could match my own.” 

You laugh, and are about to speak when the door to The Countess's rooms open and Hugo barges in. 

“Mother, I- Oh,” he gives you a little smile and half bow as a greeting. You nod back.

“So I see she is deserving of a formal greeting and not I?” The Countess scows, but you know from experience that if someone had entered without acknowledging you they would have also faced reprimand. 

Hugo pulls a face. “Mother-”

“And what about knocking Hugo? Since we are in his highness’s house, on his highness’s hospitality I do not think that forgoing manners should be our way forward.” 

He sighs, but nods, before waiting for a moment to see if she will continue talking. 

The Countess nods. 

You stand up, watching them going back and forth in their regular verbal sparing matches.

“Mother, is it completely necessary for me to join-”

“You surely are not speaking of the possibility of not attending tonight? Are you?” 

“Mother-”

“Because if you were, I would be-”

“It wouldn’t be anything, an Earl can retire to his-”

“An Earl would not insult the hospitality of his King.” 

“Mother-”

She held up her hands. “I will hear nothing of it.” 

Hugo sighed dramatically, his shoulders slumping in defeat. 

“And what are you wearing? You are covered in mud.” She tutted.

“I was riding and-”

“Riding? At this hour?” 

He nodded. “Some of the knights and other Earls went to the forest and-”

The Countess tutted dramatically. 

“I was going to take Stefen to the stable and brush him down instead of attending.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “You intended to brush your horse instead of attending? There are servants for that exact duty Hugo.” 

He shrugged frowning, you knew how much he enjoyed taking care of his horse. “I do not trust the staff here, they do not know Stefen, they-”

The Countess shook her head, “you are attending. Go, get bathed and dress, Robert will assist you.” 

“But Mother, Stefen-”

The Countess turned to you quickly, “Will you do me the favour of going to the stables and getting Stefen ready for the night?” She smiled kindly at you and you nodded.

“Of course my lady.”

“See?” She turned to her son. “Now we have a trusted member of staff to care for him.” She said triumphantly. “Or do you not trust her to look after him here?” 

Hugo gave you an apologetic look, he hadn’t meant to lump you with the task. But you smile back, and he returns a weak nod. 

“Of course that’s fine,” he said defeated. 

You often groomed Stefen, he was a powerful and grumpy animal that tended to only obey four people, Hugo, the two main stable hands at Bowhale, and you. He tolerated others for the most part, but was quite difficult when something set him off. 

“Good.” The Countess clapped her hands together. 

.

You finished helping The Countess get ready before you stepped out of her rooms and headed for the stables. The evening light was just starting to dim into twilight. 

Hugo caught up with you on the stairs, gently touching your arm to get your attention.

“I’m so sorry.” 

You smile kindly, “what for, my lord?” 

“Making you settle Stefen in, I,” he sighed, “I could have easily done it earlier, I just wanted an excuse to… not go…”

Your smile widened. “I know, Hugo, please don’t worry, besides, I like taking care of Stefen.”

He gives you a grin, his spirit lifting as they always did when you used his first name. “Thank you, I-”

“Hugo!” The far-off call of The Countess echoed around the castle and you chuckled while he groaned. 

“Have fun!” You waved as you continued down the stairs. 

He nodded disheartenedly. 

. 

You got a little lost on your way to the stables and had to ask a stern looking guard the way. When you arrived and introduced yourself to the head stable hand the poor man looked relieved. 

Stefan greeted you happily, and had no qualms about letting you brush and clean the mud and grime from his coat. Much to the other stable hands's shock. 

It wasn’t long before the sky was dark and you were left alone in the stables with the horses. 

“You need to be nicer to others Stefan.” You scowled with a grin. 

He whinnied, seeming to laugh playfully at you as you stroked his neck. 

“That’s a beautiful horse.” 

The low voice behind you made you jump and you spun around quickly. Stefan sensed your discomfort, snorting and stepping forward to try to put himself between you and the stranger. 

“It’s alright,” you hushed, patting his side and calming him. You turned to where the voice had come from, the stranger’s outline was just visible in the low candlelight. “Thank you, it is The Earl of Bowhale’s horse.” 

“A fine beast for sure.” The stranger nodded, but did not step closer. “I have heard he has a temper.” 

You smile and nod. “He is a little set in his ways, strong-willed,” you stroke Stefan affectionately, “but he is a loyal companion if you earn his trust.”

“And it seems that you have.” 

You smile again at the stranger. “I would like to think so, The Earl and I used to train him when he was a colt. He is used to me.” 

“You ride?” 

“A little,” you turn back to Stefan briefly as he nudges your shoulder and stroke him again, “occasionally I accompany The Earl or Countess when they wish.” 

“Hmm.” 

“And what of you stranger? Do you ride, or are you just of this disposition to watch horses while they rest and harass servants with questions?” You tease playfully. 

He chuckles lightly and waits a beat before he steps closer and leans against the wood of Stefan’s stall. The flame light flickers against his features and dread grips your inside in its icy hold. 

You freeze for a second, eyes wide before you bow your head and curtsy as low as you can. “Your Highness, I apologise, I did not realise it was you in the dark.” 

Your mind rushes with thoughts, you were going to get punished, put in the stocks, maybe even imprisoned, why wasn’t he at the event? Why was he here seemingly stalking about in the dark? 

He wasn’t wearing his crown, his clothing obviously expensive but not the attire for entertaining the court. 

King John laughed again, but the sound wasn’t unkind. “You were all for questioning me a second ago, am I so fierce that you can’t even raise your head to look at me?” 

You keep your position, looking down, panicking on what to do, how to-

“Hmm?” He hooks his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “Has the servant lost her voice?” 

You shake your head. “No, Your Highness.” 

“Then answer my question.” His voice is low, nearly a growl. The pretence of softness hiding something much sharper underneath. 

“You are fierce, Your Highness.” You whisper and he grins. 

“And yet, you look at me?” He keeps his touch on your chin light.

“You are making me, Your Highness.” The words slip from your tongue before you truly have a chance to understand them and you screw your face up the second they are spoken. 

But he laughs quietly and drops his hand to his side. “There, I wonder what you will do under your own will.” 

You pause and swallow, taking a deep breath before opening your eyes and looking back up at him. 

His grin widens. He observes you for a moment, the look in his eyes dark, predatory. And for a second you are sure that you made the wrong choice. 

“Stand,” he says, his voice still soft and you obey slowly, “much better, I do not need you to stay in a curtsy, my pride is not so vast that I need to have everyone at my feet.” 

You stay quiet, biting at your lip and pulling at the skin around your nails, but watch him carefully.

“You are Edith Bowhale’s personal attendant, are you not?” 

“I am.” You nod, not wanting to fall short and lose whatever small grace has decided to put you in the King’s favour and not chagrin. 

He hums a response, looking away from you for a second and you can feel relief flood your veins as you are out of his sharp glare. The consolation is short lived however, as he quickly stares back at you. 

“She was speaking to me about many things, though I have to admit upon seeing you I wished I had been paying more attention.” He smiles, his voice like silk as he takes a step closer.

You pause for a second, your mind slow to catch up with the meaning of his words. “I, wait, I’m sorry, Your Highness, I-”

He chuckles and brushes his fingers against your cheek, a light touch that makes you jump and startle back. 

“So skittish,” he teases, “over just a touch.” 

“I-”

“A touch from your King no less,” he tuts, “I should be insulted.”

“No, that’s not, not my intention, I-”

Stefan whinnies, seemingly unhappy with how close the King is getting to you and King John uses your brief distraction to his advantage. He grabs hold of your bicep and pulls you out of the stall and swings the wooden door closed. 

You can hear Stefan neighing in distress as he pushes you up against the door, his griping your arm tight. 

“Calm the horse.” He says softly, his piercing eyes seeming to sink into your very soul.

You swallow, your mouth dry, but tap the door. “Stefan,” you say softly. 

The horse calms slightly at your voice.

“It’s alright, don’t worry,” you repeat your words a few times until you hear him start to settle and wish they could have the same effect on you. Your heart races, your breath catching in your throat. 

He delights for a moment in your obvious discomfort. “My, my, I have never seen a servant to a Countess so shy.” 

You stay quiet, heat rising to your skin. You try to focus on his mouth, but no matter how hard you try you are drawn back to his striking eyes, as if he holds some bewitching magic to keep you under his control. 

Slowly he raises his left hand up, giving you plenty of time to see it before he gently touches his fingertips to your cheek, lightly stroking your skin. You still jump a little, naturally trying to flinch away. 

It makes him smile even more, taking a deep pleasure in your flustered reaction. He breathed in deeply, as if he were savouring a flower, “aw, what’s wrong? Does the little servant not know how to address her King? How to behave in his presence?” 

“I… I’m sorry, Your Highness.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. 

He grins wickedly at how timid you have seemingly become. “Now, now,” he teases, his voice thick and heavy, “there’s no need to apologise with those words… how about you tell me something sweet instead?” 

You frown in confusion, “something sweet?” 

He leans a little closer, caging you in. “Something nice.” He languidly runs his fingers down lower, along your jaw and to your neck. Your racing heartbeat drums against his fingers and a giddy thrill runs down his spine. 

“I…”

“Something nice,” he repeats, “something that you could never normally say to someone like me, something that will make me smile.” 

Once again your words slip out of your mouth as if you had no control over them, his hypnotic gaze seemingly completely destroying your survival instinct, “you’re beautiful,” you whisper. 

He freezes the moment you utter the words, your eyes going wide as you realise what you said. The syllables of your sentence seemingly echo around the stable, ringing and repeating clearly in your mind as if you had screamed them from the rooftops. 

A faint dusting of pink highlights his cheeks, but thankfully you cannot see it in the candlelight, he smiles slowly, moving his hand up and tracing your bottom lip with his thumb. 

“Repeat that.” He breaths. 

Your heart beats so forcefully you’re sure you're going to faint. “You’re so very beautiful.” 

He chuckles, leaning closer until his nose bumps against yours and preening a little at the compliment. “You know such words from such an unexpected source only mean more… thank you.” 

He dissolves the last centimetres separating you and presses his lips to yours, swallowing down your little gasp of surprise and licking into your mouth without hesitation. His hand is warm on your neck, his body pressing up against yours as if he expects you to push him away, to run. Instead, your fingers sink into his shirt, pulling him closer as you kiss him back with equal further, a lamb happily going to the slaughter. 

He growls, low in the chest when you reciprocate, heat blooming in his lower stomach as he pushes even closer and rubs his quickly hardening cock against your hip. 

You gasp a little in surprise, but quickly regain yourself, wrapping your arm around his neck and urging him closer, needing to feel every part of him. 

This couldn’t be real, this was impossible, you had to be dreaming. Maybe Stefan had reared up as you brushed him and you’d stumbled and hit your head, it was seemingly the only logical conclusion. You might as well enjoy this delusion as long as it lasted. 

His kisses grow more demanding, more urgent and he nips at your bottom lip, groaning at your high-pitched sigh. And then whining himself when you repeat the action on him, forcing your tongue into his mouth and pulling sweet sounds from his lips. 

There was-

The stable door slams open, “Your Highness, I have come to-”

King John turns furiously, “What?” He yells at the poor servant sent to fetch him. 

It’s like a dam has been broken, your mind snaps back to your senses. What were you doing? What the hell were you doing? Kissing The King in a barely lit stable. 

The servant stammers a little, saying something that you can’t for the life of you hear. He is silhouetted in the darkness, unseeable and the King steps closer, giving him a verbal dressing down.

You slip out the side door, and rush back to your room. Thankful for the clouded night sky that keeps your face in shadow and identity hidden from possible prying eyes. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Snowdrop Part. 5

Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader

Description: Jacaerys learns Y/N's favourite flower is a snowdrop, which she has only ever seen in the pages of a book, and he plans a surprise for her. He also learns that he must tread carefully in his suit to win his lady's love.

Writer's note: Apologies for the brief interruption in the Jacaerysmas schedule!

Warnings: female reader

Jacaerys' mind was preoccupied as he made his way towards the library with long, purposeful strides. He was eager to see his lady, ecstatic that she had continued to grant him the presence of her company since he had met her in the library going about her duties. He was anxious, however, that she seemed more hesitant to talk freely with him or to sit too close to him, almost assuming the bashfulness she had had around him when she had first met him. He could not but feel that something in his behaviour had caused him to lose all the progress he hoped he had made towards endearing himself to her heart. He resolved that he would need to tread carefully in order to win her love and her hand. As he entered the library, he was relieved to see his lady love seated at a table, pouring over a large tome as her hair fell in a graceful sweep around her face. He was always worried that this would be the last time he would see her come to the library, that she would avoid him again. Hearing him approaching, she raised her face to smile gently at him, leaving his heart stuttering at the sight. He stopped a pace or two beside her, craning his neck over her shoulder to look at what she had been reading from. He was not surprised to see her reading the same horticultural tome on flowers that seemed to be a favourite of hers, as she returned to it so often. Drawing up a chair so that he could sit beside her, he continued to glance at the page she had seemed so intent on before his arrival.

"Snowdrops. Do you favour this flower."

A dreamy look came over her features as she answered.

"I have never actually seen one, them being rare and not easily grown in King's Landing, but I have always thought them the most beautiful of flowers, even if I have only seen them from the pages of a book."

He nodded thoughtfully, as he considered her words, his head resting lightly in his hand.

"Should you like to see this flower?"

She looked up sharply at this to meet his enquiring gaze.

"Have you seen one?!" She cried, with a degree of enthusiasm he thought precious, indicative as it was of a gentle heart.

A playful smile alighted on his features as he responded, "perhaps I have". His heart momentarily stopped, before quickening as she reached across the table to grab his free hand with both of hers. His mouth opened in wonder at the sight of her smaller hands enclosing his own, a gesture she had initiated herself, having never done so before. He quickly closed it and schooled his features, although he could not stop smiling, especially when he felt the feather-light touch of her hands upon his own.

"Are they as beautiful as they look on the page? I have always wondered if the petals have the appearance of looking like glass, as this book says they do."

Eager to hold her interest, especially since she seemed so taken by the flower, and forming a plan in his head, he responded.

"They are, indeed, very beautiful and the petals certainly do have a translucent quality, as you describe. They can be found in a nearby forest, although it would require a journey on dragon back. I can take you to see them, if it would please you." He said all this with a hopeful expression on his face, although his last request sounded more tentative than he had intended, being unsure of her answer.

Her eyes positively sparkled with enthusiasm at the thought and she seemed on the cusp of assenting to his idea, before a cloud seemed to pass over her features, and she cast her gaze away from him. Her next words came out rigid, almost as if she were forcing herself to say them.

"That is most kind, my Prince, but I could not ask you to take up so much of your valuable time in doing me such a kindness. I am content to look at the images of the flower contained in books."

His face fell as she said this, and he hurried to assure her that it would be no trouble.

"I would be only to happy to be of service to you, especially since you seem to favour the flower so much. It would be no trouble at all."

She did not waver, however, despite numerous attempts from him to convince her that he would be only to eager to take her to see her favourite flowers. He hesitated to add that he was desirous of spending more time in her company and would be only too happy to provide her with a meadow of the flowers if it would convince her to do so. Seeing that she would not be swayed, he turned the conversation to how her day had been, as he formed another plan in his head. If she would not assent to see the flowers with him, there was yet no reason why he could not bring them to her.

The next evening, Jacaerys had made his way to the library first, finding the book on flowers Y/N often returned to, searching for one page in particular. Finding the page on snowdrops, he left the book open as he carefully placed a singular snow drop next to the illustrated one on the page. He sat in his usual chair beside Y/N's and opened his own book, crossing his leg over his knee and assuming a casual air as Y/N entered the library.

"Good evening, my Prince," she greeted him with a curtesy and a bow of her head, before smiling at him.

Meeting her smile with his own, he bowed his head respectfully.

"Good evening, my Lady. I have taken the liberty of leaving one of your favourite books out for you, I think there is a passage you will be eager to return to."

The playful tone with which he said this, as he returned his gaze to his own book, left Y/N curious as to what he was hiding. She sat in her usual chair beside him, casting her gaze down at the book he indicated. The sight of the most beautiful flower she had ever seen, a real snowdrop, on the page had her drawing in a sharp intake of breath, as her mouth parted open in wonder. As she reached her hand out to tentatively brush the soft petals, she was unaware of the intent gaze of the Prince on her. He was as captivated by her actions as she was by the flower before her, inwardly rejoicing that his surprise should have been so well received.

"I only brought one back, as it is yet cold and not the season for them, but I thought you would be pleased to see one. Is it to your liking?"

She raised the flower carefully in between her forefinger and thumb, as if afraid she would crush it, holding it to the light. He realised that she was trying to ascertain if the petals really did look like glass, and the thought had his heart brimming with affection for her.

"It is so beautiful. The petals are just like how I imagine snow to look, they almost glisten."

He smiled, almost apologetically, at this. "I'm afraid I cannot bring you any snow to assess the fairness of the comparison, but I am pleased that you should like it so much. I will bring you a whole bouquet of them when I can find enough of them."

She removed her gaze from the flower to look almost quizzically at him and he met her gaze steadfastly, willing her to understand that he would do anything to please her, to gain her love.

"Why?"

He faltered at this, not expecting such a direct response. He briefly hesitated, unsure as to whether a direct response on his part would be unwelcome, but he quickly resolved that he must make his intentions towards her clear, if she was to have a fair chance of either accepting or rejecting his love. Taking a deep breath to ready himself for the possibility of the latter scenario unfolding, he rose from his seat before lowering himself onto one knee before her, ready to declare his love for her. He was not a little surprised then, when she quickly stood up, almost toppling him over in her haste to remove herself from her chair and side-step his still kneeling form.

"I...I think I will retire for the night. The hour is late and I must be up early to perform my duties. Good night, my Prince."

She bowed her head jerkily and turned to leave but was prevented from doing so by the Prince, who had risen back to a standing position, arresting her hand in his own. She felt sorry for having so unceremoniously interrupted him in what she believed may have been an attempt at a declaration of some kind, as she looked into his pleading gaze. She quickly reminded herself that he cannot have meant to offer himself to her as a husband, so she was right to prevent him from professing feelings which could lead to nothing but unhappiness. She feared that he had stopped her to renew his suit but was touched, however, when all he did was nod disconsolately, as if in understanding that he knew she did not wish for him to continue. Instead, he raised his hand carefully to brush a tendril of hair behind her ear, before lifting the snowdrop he had given her to tuck it just above her ear.

"Do not forgot your flower, my lov...my lady." He spoke quietly, correcting himself on the final word, before raising her hand to his lips. He kissed her hand devotedly, before turning to leave himself. She watched him leave until she could no longer see the red of his cloak, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

@idriel @callsigncrushx

[geekgirles]

The Osamodas' Projecting and Shortsightenedness and Their Consequences

For a while now I've been thinking on what I think is the Osamodas' true Fatal Flaw, the reason why their manipulations fail to affect Amalia (aside from their true intentions being practically see-through), and chapters 6 and 7 have only served to confirm my suspicions.

The Osamodas' greatest weakness is their utter lack of understanding of their enemies/targets, in this case Yugo and Amalia, but moreso the last remaining Sheran Sharm.

I had already begun to suspect Aurora at least knew nothing of Amalia because of her debut in season 3. More specifically, her choice in suitors for the Sadida Princess.

Just look at the two of them. While Aurora looks smug and so sure of herself and her decision, Amalia is wholly uninterested and annoyed, even bored. Which already anticipates how much of a failure this dinner is going to be.

If introducing solely her relatives to Amalia didn't make her true intentions transparent enough, that is to say, to strengthen her family's hold over Sadida politics rather than trying to find a suitable partner for her sister-in-law; then the way Aurora describes Ashdur to her certainly does, as well as it illustrates how her and her family's understanding of Amalia is entirely superficial and mistaken.

Before introducing Ashdur, Aurora tries sweet-talking Amalia into the ambush (because that's the only way to describe forcing an unsuspecting person to meet up with someone during what should be an intimate family dinner) by saying:

"J'aimerais vous présenter quelqu'un qui a beaucoup de points communs avec vous."

"I would like to introduce you to someone who has a lot in common in with you."

Except that's not really how things are, are they?

Ashdur's introduction was short and anything but impactful, and yet it perfectly encapsulated the type of character he is: a brainless beauty. Yes, his muscular physique usually means he is at least conventionally attractive, but during his introduction all he does is pose cockily and flex, quite literally. The fact that Aurora has the nerve to say he and Amalia have a lot in common when that's all he does already highlights what the Osamodas princess truly thinks of her sister-in-law: in Aurora's eyes, Amalia is nothing but a pretty face.

By contrast, Amalia already has Aurora and her true personality pinned down, no matter how much she tries to hide it behind fake pleasantries and an emo haircut. As evidenced when she wastes no time pointing out Armand and Aurora had already tried the same thing with her brothers, or when she accurately deduces Ashdur is her cousin.

Whereas Aurora is incapable of seeing past her own twisted perception of Amalia, it's plain to see the latter only needed some time around her brother's wife and maybe one attempt at roping her into an arranged marriage to be able to accurately pinpoint the kind of person she is: a manipulator with no respect for her or her people and who only thinks about her own nation and position in court.

And this incapability to see Amalia for who she truly is is very clearly widespread all over the Osamodas royal family. As they all seem to look down and disrespect her even when such behaviour is wholly inappropriate.

(I'll never forgive the Osamodas King for having the nerve to openly refuse Amalia's request to send and ask for help when it was her kingdom that was about to be overridden by Wakfu-draining monsters).

But the funny thing is, in a very roundabout way, this all is sort of Armand's fault. As my friend @alittlebookdust once pointed out, due to his inability to let go of his jealousy and bitterness until their father passed on, Armand was very open in his own contempt of his little sister, even in front of other people, which goes as far as the first season.

Despite being overjoyed to see his sister return after months of absence, Armand was still not above reprimanding and looking down on her to the point of Amalia breaking out in tears in front of Eva and, unbeknownst to them, Master Joris. And back then their relationship was arguably better than the low it reached in season 3 and early season 4, since despite everything Armand was still the most torn up over her disappearance and didn't hesitate to be affectionate with her even in front of the court.

A stark contrast to his reaction upon her return from Inglorium, when he went as far as to neglect to inform her their father had passed away, instead cruelly getting her hopes up.

But I'm going on a tangent here. The point is, due to his lack of restraint over his own emotions, Armand's behaviour became key in shaping the Osamodas' view on the Sadida princess. They didn't see a fellow royal and warrior who is willing to do whatever it takes for the sake of her kingdom and the world, but a foolish, spoiled little princess who'd much rather go on some adventure than look out for her people. And so, they treated her accordingly because Armand never did anything to stop them.

You know something's wrong when your wife openly calls your little sister, whom you love despite everything, a weed and you don't do anything to stop her or have her show some respect at least out of respect for you and your family. Or when your father-in-law spits he doesn't take orders from her and the most you can do is tell him to listen to her, instead of pointedly reminding him he is an outsider with no sway over your kingdom daring to talk back to your princess and protector.

Even in season 4, despite mending fences with Amalia, Armand could go back to screaming and treating her less than ideally at the drop of a hat, such as when she brought up Yugo after the assembly or when he made light of their expedition to find out where the Nécromes came from. This last instant being a particularly glaring example because he had just defended Yugo as a trusted ally that could mark the difference between their survival or extinction to his father-in-law.

And at the same time, this exchange between in-laws also proves how the Osamodas failed to properly read even Armand, arguably one of the few allies they had in the Sadida Kingdom (besides the traitors from the webtoon, that is).

From their interactions, it's clear to see the Osamodas King expected that, by marrying his daughter, Armand would become easily influenced and maleable, someone he could mold into fulfilling his agenda. Throughout their entire conversation, all the Osamodas King does is belittle the Sadida Kingdom and question Armand's choices, while the latter smartly and effectively counters his people are better suited for war and hold a higher position within their world (by virtue of hosting the Tree of Life and, therefore, their survival being key in that of the other Twelvians) than the Osamodas.

And the fact that Aurora actually berates Armand for defending himself and his kingdom against her father's ill-concealed insults already comes to show she was sent to the Sadida Kingdom not to become his queen and partner, but to sway him to their side.

The Osamodas thought they could turn Armand into their puppet through a political marriage, but his own royal upbringing, pride and love for his kingdom proved them wrong.

And their being incapable of seeing past what meets the eye or, worse, their own prejudiced, arrogant assumptions might be what will inevitably prove to be their undoing in the webtoon. Because once again they're making assumptions, this time about both Yugo and Amalia, without really knowing either of them.

I'm still inclined to believe they're the ones behind Yugo's poisoning, even if I'm open to twists. Mainly because the way the story is going, it can either be revealed they're not responsible, or they can be feigning ignorance to try and turn the Sadidas against Yugo and Amalia only to later on be revealed as the masterminds after all.

Let's not forget how chapter 6 was not subtle about the fact that there are most likely traitors in the kingdom that've been reporting back to them, or how the Osamodas King very ominously said they must make sure Yugo loses the Sadida's support...all before it's revealed Yugo's poison isn't just extremely harmful to the point his survival is all thanks to his god-like status, but so maddeningly painful it's actually causing him to lose control of his powers and wreak havoc.

If I'm right and they are indeed behind this, then their impulsiveness and incapability to foresee their opponents' next move, only expecting the kind of underhanded tactics they would pull, is going to come back to bite them and put a damper on their plans.

Because by poisoning Yugo, the love of Amalia's life and all the family she has left, they've done the last thing they wanted, let alone needed.

They've pushed Amalia past her limit.

She was ready to entrust them with her kingdom.

They had won! Amalia truly held what she believed to be her brother's wishes in such high regard she was willing to try and honour them, despite how painful or wrong it seemed to her.

They expected her to hold onto power almost as desperately as they're trying to do, which, in their mind, justified going to such lengths just to get rid of her and her husband, the saviour of their world. Except that's not Amalia, that's them. So by poisoning Yugo, by failing to see Amalia would indeed do what she considered best for her kingdom and honour her brother's legacy, they have essentially signed their death sentence.

And even if by some miracle they were innocent, their actions, both past and present—Aurora's contemptuous and manipulative treatment of Amalia, their betrayal and abandonement against the Nécromes, their trying to drive her away from her people by usurping the throne, their refusal to even admit they did something wrong and apologise for their actions, always justifying themselves or shifting the blame—, already speak louder than words. Because Amalia has no reason to believe their innocence, meaning now she will hold onto the throne and fight them tooth and nail, with everything she has.

No matter what happens next, whatever fate befalls the Osamodas, they have no one but themselves to blame.