#and like... how would he comfort himself? how would he pass the time!

[sorryimananti-romantic]

New World

crownprince!hongjoong x royalphysician!reader

psychopath power hungry prince hj x psychopath delulu spy doctor reader who kill (literally) for each other

dni if you're not comfortable with this trope.

word count: 27k

genres and warnings: unhinged fluff only, angst, smut (mdni!) they're both pyschopaths, morally black atp, skewed thinking, violence and murder warnings, manipulation at its finest, reader is a bit delulu but so is joong, kinda tragic

synopsis: you've always known the crown prince was just a little power hungry, however, when you offer to kill the king for him as part of your big scheme to end the monarchy, you didn't realise he'd be ecstatic about it. while you etch out an elaborate plan to get more obstacles out of the way, you start enjoying his company just a little too much. it ultimately clouds your judgement and becomes the cause of your downfall, though... if you go down, he goes down with you :D

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (just two simps for dom hongjoong what's new)

Red might just be your favourite colour.

Red was the colour of blood. Red was the colour of anger, desire and power. Red was the colour of the loveliest roses that decorated this castle, and red was the colour of Wonderland’s flag. Red was the colour of the badge that the soldiers wore at all times, as well as the colour of rubies that were your favourite stone and a staple of royal jewellery.

Red was also the colour of royal regalia. And oh, Prince Hongjoong absolutely owned that colour. It looked like red was made for him. Everything he did was red. His actions, his aura, his charms, they exuded red. The way he walked, the way he laughed or smirked, the way his expressions would change in a matter of milliseconds… everything was red. He breathed in that colour and made it his own. 

Red just so happened to be the colour that clear drug now turned into when you added a few drops of the new opium compound you had gotten your hands on when you went shopping in the black market. As the royal physician, you had the privilege of accessing the black market without repercussions, so you got a little of everything that would be considered ‘dangerous’ or ‘illegal’. Your sole duty as the royal physician was to make advances in medicine and make sure the royalty remained healthy.

Though… there wasn’t much left to worry about. The Queen had passed away when you were still an assistant a few years ago. The King, well, he was unfortunate enough to be suffering from a heart condition. You did everything in your power (though that could be argued) to keep his pain and suffering at bay but with each passing day, his health deteriorated even more.

And that left Prince Hongjoong- the young crown prince, loved by some but feared by all. With his striking platinum hair and a permanent glare, he was as cold as he appeared to be. The man only cared about swiftness and rationality in each decision he made, disregarding the suffering of his people and their woes. He claimed that a ruler had to be strict and authoritative for his kingdom to prosper, and his ideology had always conflicted with his father's, which was why the people of Wonderland dreaded the day when the King would pass away and the Crown Prince would take over.

You smiled to yourself as the solution became red, confirming that it worked. You had just mixed a few ingredients to make a new pain reliever. You only needed to test it out now-

And who better to test it on than the dying King? Sure, maybe it was too strong, in which case he would probably succumb to numbness and his breathing might stop. He had one foot in the grave anyway. But if it worked, he would probably grace you with more privileges. It was a win-win situation. 

You didn’t hate the King, no. In fact, he trusted you a lot- maybe a bit more than he should. He had recognised how brilliant a physician and researcher you were early in your career and had appointed you as the royal physician himself. He depended on you a lot, as you did on him, and his fatherly affection sometimes almost made you crack and forget what you really wanted.

What you really wanted was to see the crown prince become the king, even if it was just for a day. You wanted to be the person to make it happen for him. You wanted to be trusted by him and you wanted him to depend on you. You wanted to be the person that would lead him to the crown that was rightfully his. You wanted to fulfil his deepest desire- you wanted him to rule, even if only for a day.

Because then, you would take the final step and free the Kingdom of Wonderland from its last-standing tyrannical ruler.

But the King- the old man. He just wouldn’t die. And that was making the both of you frustrated.

As you poured the new drug in a vial, signing the register to record today’s progress, you put the vial in the first-aid box and took off your apron, hanging it on the knob next to the shelves that lined the walls of your workshop. You straightened your deep green velvet gown and made sure the pearls adorning your neck looked perfect. Tucking some stray hair behind your ears and smirking at your reflection, pleased with the way you looked tonight, you picked up the box and left the medical chamber, walking towards the residential section of the castle where the royalty resided. 

The King hated staying in the infirmary so you had fulfilled his wishes and created a setup in his bedroom. Your assistants looked after him throughout the day and you would drop by multiple times to check on him, hoping to get a sight of the painfully handsome prince. 

Sometimes, you caught the Prince lounging with a book or a smoke, or swirling the wine in his glass. It sparked red in you- red for desire. You weren’t sure if that desire inside you was for him or his position or power- or the desire to simply end him as planned by the Master and move to the next phase of your life- but oh, how you wished he would look at you with something other than contempt in his eyes. You knew he disliked you because you were prolonging his father’s life and preventing him from taking the crown.

You were. You were doing exactly that. You wouldn’t kill the King until he would really look at you. You couldn’t simply tell him that, so you would have to take a risk that could end up with your head in the lunette, ready for execution.

You greeted the royal guards before you knocked on the door of the main chamber and the Prince’s aide, Mingi, opened the door and let you in.

“Good evening, Doctor,” the tall man let you in with a smile and you bowed in greeting before you entered, glancing around the living room for any signs of the prince but finding none. Mingi shut the door behind you and with a nod, you went towards the king’s bedroom, knocking before entering. 

The old man was reading some reports, round glasses perched on the tip of his nose. Even though he looked pale and his eyes looked lifeless, he looked as posh as ever with his greying hair neatly combed back and face freshly shaven. Upon noticing you, he set the reports aside and greeted you with a smile.

“How do you do, Doctor?” He asked and you pulled the stool near him, settling down.

“Just the usual, but I have some good news for you,” you said and when his face lit up, you shook your head. “You must tell me how you’ve been feeling first.”

“Well… I think the pain wasn’t as bad today, but I still can’t seem to walk around too much. I lose my breath too quickly.”

“I might have something for that,” you said. Routinely, he extended his wrist and you checked his pulse, listened to his heart with a stethoscope and checked his eyes. After making sure his vitals were normal, you told him about the new drug.

“It is an opium compound, so I’m not sure how different it will be, but I hope it will get better rather than worse.”

“Can’t get any worse than this,” the King sighed and you almost tsk-ed.

“It can get worse, but I’m here to prevent that,” you assured and the King nodded. “There is a risk factor, though.”

“And like always, I’ll take it,” he agreed, sitting straighter. After administering his routine medicines and skipping the ones that could hinder this new drug’s effect, you made him drink a spoonful of the red liquid. His mouth contorted as the bitterness of the drug spread across his tongue and then he took a deep breath.

“I’ll have the nurses monitoring the effects of this drug tonight, but if anything feels strange, you can have the guards send a message to me.”

“Thank you,” the King said and you bowed, exiting his room and making a turn-

And almost bumping into none other than the Crown Prince.

The Crown Prince Hongjoong, looking regal even in his plain black silk nightwear. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and you bowed in greeting, stepping aside and about to leave when he cleared his throat, making you stop.

“How is the King’s condition?”

You smirked internally before turning to face him. “Not better… not worse either.”

Prince Hongjoong narrowed his eyes and you sighed. “It’s because the drugs won’t work. I’ve administered a new one tonight, and I have hopes.”

What kind of hopes, he didn’t need to know.

“You always say that, yet my father is still bedridden.”

You noted his use of the term ‘father’. He always employed that term carefully, and you weren’t sure if anyone else had noticed that. 

“Well, it’s a bit… risky this time,” you began, testing the waters and when he raised his brow in curiosity, you knew you had him. “He might get worse before he gets better. Or… he may never recover if it doesn’t suit him.”

“Yet you still administered that drug to the King?”

There. He was now ‘the King’.

“The King,” you began, emphasising the word, “took a leap of faith in me and the drug if that means he could get better one day.”

The Prince nodded in understanding, about to go to his room.

“However,” you said in a low voice, looking around to make sure no one was in sight. Hongjoong turned to hear the rest of it, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of concealment. 

You took a few steps forward- tonight, the wheels of your big plan would start to turn. You purposely stepped a little closer than he would have liked and whispered, “I’ll tell you- the King shouldn’t be taking such risks at his age, and with his condition.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Hongjoong asked in a whisper as if what you had shared was a secret.

You only shrugged, feigning innocence. “Who knows? If you really want answers though… maybe you could let me access the private library first.”

With that, you bowed and left, leaving the prince baffled. He opened the door of his father’s bedroom just a fraction and saw his brows furrowed in pain as he rested, the nurse paying no attention and instead more focused on knitting.

Hongjoong went to his room and found himself going over the conversation he had with you over and over again. He couldn’t help but recall previous instances of when you told him- and only him, he had noted- how his father could get worse or better depending on the situation.

Were you actually intending to tell him that you had his health, even his life, in your control? Had he been too oblivious of his royal physician’s actions and words? Had he underestimated you? He knew you were a good doctor- you were a renowned physician throughout the Capital. But were you offering him the controls?

The private library- he wondered what you intended to find there. Maybe he would give you a chance to prove yourself to him. Hongjoong smirked into the night sky, peering down at his kingdom from the height- perhaps, you were the weapon he needed to wield in order to get to the throne.

And if you were… 

Finally, the crown prince started to feel a new surge of hope and desire. Hope for the new world he wanted to create as soon as he could sit on the throne, and desire for that power.

Hongjoong saw red before his eyes as he shut them, letting the light breeze blow through his hair and caress his skin. He wasn’t sure if his grim laughter was echoing inside his head or being carried by the wind for the world to hear.

—------------------------------------

You were starting to wonder if your plan had not worked. 

The past week, you simply checked on the King and kept administering the same new drug that you now called ‘ruby’. It was a bit ironic to call it ruby, you thought. Ruby was Wonderland’s staple stone and what better name for a drug that would end the life of Wonderland's king? It was a shame no one could share the sentiment- when your assistants asked why you called the drug ruby, you simply answered that it was because of the colour.

Prince Hongjoong seemed like he was avoiding you on purpose. Maybe he was not interested in what you had to offer. You were pretty sure he got the message- the King was at your mercy and could be at the Crown Prince’s mercy if he wished so. However, he didn’t acknowledge your presence the few times you crossed paths with him within the week. A small part in your brain said that maybe you had made a mistake and he was being cautious. Maybe you should have never revealed all of that- maybe you had doomed yourself. If he suspected you of foul play, he could have you executed for treason. Maybe the Hongjoong did possess a functioning heart under all those layers of thorns. Yours had long been numb.

But maybe, just maybe, he was weighing his options. Could he trust you, the royal physician, a respectable doctor and medical researcher? Were you planning a trap for him- was it the King’s doing? Did the King suspect that his son really wanted him dead? Did one of his uncles, the Dukes, plant you here as a spy? They were interested in the throne- at least the older one of them, the Duke of Neverland Prince Woobin, was.

And why did you need to access the private library anyway? That was what kept nagging at Hongjoong’s mind. The private library was not attached to the main library but was located in the part of the castle that accommodated the royal residents. The only people allowed to access that library were those of royal blood. It mostly held archives related to court orders and the royal family history. Whatever could a doctor need in there?

With all these thoughts plaguing the prince’s mind, he found himself making way to the medical chamber after dinner accompanied by his aide, Mingi. Mingi asked if he was feeling alright but Hongjoong only said he wanted to ask you a few things regarding his father’s medication and that he was hoping to get something for his own insomnia. That relaxed his aide a bit- Mingi had been by Hongjoong’s side for a solid decade now and while they shared the same opinions on many things, Hongjoong still wasn’t sure if Mingi really agreed with his political views.

Hongjoong dreamt of big things. He was a dreamer and a doer, which he supposed was not an odd combination but a rare one- people usually had to give up one or the other. He, however, was not going to bow to this world- the world was going to bow to him. That was the world he aimed to create where he would be the ruler, where he would allow people to dream within his constraints. To him, there was no such thing as freedom. Freedom was simply a word to fool people into believing that they possessed the right and control over their life. Sure, Hongjoong was a slave to this word too. He dreamed to be free-

Free of the title of crown prince. Free of the title prince. He abhorred that word now- he wanted to be the king. He wanted the freedom to rule. And you- you had just offered him a shortcut, if he was right about this. 

Hongjoong was greeted by a few doctors at the workshop, the three of them moving around nervously and almost tripping on each other as they straightened and asked what brought the Prince all the way to the medical chambers- he could have sent a message. Hongjoong said he simply wanted to observe and check the progress of his doctors. One of them offered to take him to you, to his relief, and he followed the physician to the other end of the workshop which led to the room right next to the storage.

“That’s where the Head Physician usually works- she prefers a corner so she can experiment in peace- and it’s also to avoid involving others in any possible accidents,” the physician said, fiddling with his fingers as Hongjoong nodded. “I- I’ll alert her.”

Hongjoong watched with intrigue as the young physician carefully turned the knob so as to not make a single sound and slipped inside with light footsteps. Hongjoong peeked through the gap and realised you had your back against them. The physician waited for you to set all the equipment in your hands on the table before he cleared his throat and you turned to him.

“The Prince is here to uh, see you- your progress.”

“The Prince,” you breathed, your gaze going towards the door and you thought you spotted the familiar blonde hair. “Where is he?”

“Right outside.”

“Goodness, Jeongin, let him in then, don’t keep him waiting!” your eyes widened as you shooed the physician away and with the few seconds you had, you rubbed the stains on your hands and cleared the table in front of you. 

“Doctor,” his voice sounded, the door clicking behind him as Jeongin gave you both some space. 

“Your Highness,” you curtsied, your heart beating erratically and a bit too loudly- this was the first time you were in private with the Prince, after all. “What brings you here?”

“Just thought I’d check up on you,” the Prince narrowed his eyes as he walked past the counter with various vials of drugs and medicine arranged on them. He stopped near the ruby red liquid that he now recognised as his father’s recent prescription. “Any progress regarding the King’s health?”

“Surprisingly, he’s getting adjusted to the low doses quite well,” you said, noting the tiniest twitch of his facial muscles. “I will start increasing the dose in two days and see how he responds.”

“You mentioned a risk last time,” he raised his brow slightly as he locked eyes with you, seating himself on the very stool you had been sitting on just earlier. The proximity made you restrain a shiver, the cold countertop digging at your back providing a sense of relief in the form of familiarity. “I’d like you to elaborate.”

Got him.

Suppressing a smile, you obeyed. “Usually, I gradually increase the dosage and see how the King’s body reacts. The heart… it is a complicated organ and there are a lot of factors that can influence the working of the drug. Sometimes, the body ‘rejects’ a medicine which means we can’t have the patient take that anymore. The rejection can be due to age or some other factors.”

“And this new drug- ruby, you’re calling it?” Hongjoong asked, gaze darting over where the red vial was. “What’s so special about this?”

“Well,” you took a moment to find the right words to answer. “It’s more of a drug than a medicine, for starters. Addiction might be a side-effect but before that, there’s more to worry about. His body may look like it’s adapting and then all of a sudden, it could reject the drug and his condition could get worse.”

“Will there be any signs to indicate such a thing?” 

“I will answer that…” you leaned forward. “But first, I would like to access the private library.”

“And whatever would a royal physician find useful in the library?” The Prince asked, fiddling with the gold button on his black jacket. “It’s full of cobwebs and dust.”

“And a treasure of useful information,” you quipped.

The Prince gave you a threatening look and you sighed. “Alright, there are two reasons I want to access the library. I can only tell you one- that I want to check the family registers and private journals for any signs that this may be hereditary disease. That information is going to benefit you, and that’s my only purpose.”

“And the other reason?” He frowned, not really caring that you wanted to check for his sake. You supposed as a royal physician, it was your duty and he had nothing to be grateful for.

But your reason was still the same.

“I can’t tell you the other reason, because I’m not sure I’ll find anything about it and I don’t want to give you false hope,” you said and that got his attention. “But… if I do find something… you’re going to have to speed up the preparations for your coronation.”

Realisation dawned on Hongjoong’s face and he instinctively looked around before he stepped off the stool and walked towards you with heavy steps. “Do you hear yourself right now?”

“Loud and clear,” you smirked, taking off the mask because there was no need to show him anything but the truth now. “You want this. You want the throne, and I am your loyal subject. My only reason is to have you sit on the throne instead of one of the King’s brothers.”

Confidential information. How did the royal physician know that the King wanted to delay his son’s coronation and instead pass the hierarchy to one of his two brothers? The conflict between the King and Hongjoong was not news- they didn’t see eye to eye on many things and that was public knowledge. But how did you know all of that? 

Or was it so obvious, Hongjoong wondered, that the King did not want his son to take over the throne so soon? If the whole world was against his coronation, why were you presenting yourself as a loyal subject?

“We’ll talk about this later,” the Prince said in a low voice, pointing his finger at you. It unsettled him to see you stand so sure before him. He opened his mouth to say more but couldn’t find the words.

“I’m just a tool for you to use as you please,” you gently lowered his finger, watching his eyes flicker with surprise. “And I’m only doing this for you. Keep that in mind. Have a good night, Your Highness.”

—-----------------------------------

A tool for him to use as he pleased.

And if you wanted to prove your loyalty so bad, he would use you. He would exhaust your services until you had nothing more to offer. But first, Hongjoong needed to find out just what was so interesting about the family tree that you were tracing your finger along the lines that marked his ancestry. 

While you said nothing about him watching you from a distance like a hawk, when you opened one of the registers and your features twisted from concentration to satisfaction, he craned his neck to read the title. 

“Why are you looking at the death registers?”

“So I can learn how the King can die,” you said, watching the confusion on his face change to intrigue. “And how to avoid it.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game here, sweetheart,” the Prince said. “Are you really doing all of this to save the King?”

“I told you, but since we’re in private, we can talk more freely here,” you set the register on your lap, taking a deep breath. “So ask me whatever you want.”

“How did you know about the King considering one of my uncles to take over?”

“I have a few drugs that I sometimes slip in to make him talk,” you folded your arms. “And he’s quite a talker, your father.”

“How can you, a royal physician,” Hongjoong began, almost fuming at the thought, “abuse your power to make the King talk?”

“And why are you, the Crown Prince, not doing anything despite the knowledge of my medical malpractice? Clearly, you’re interested in what I have to offer.”

“I don’t need your loyalty,” Hongjoong shook his head, his platinum hair catching the moonlight through the patterned window behind him when he moved. “The throne belongs to me. Sooner or later, I will take over.”

“Unless your father announces that he likes the Duke of Neverland too much,” you countered. “Or the Duke of Mist Island. He may be a bit slow but he’s got better manners than you. Clearly you’re the least favourite.”

That was what made the Prince laugh mockingly. Though it was just him recovering from the blow that you delivered, you finally made him laugh and that was enough. 

“So, Miss Doctor,” the Prince said almost tauntingly. “What are your recent findings?”

“You won’t be sending me for execution after, will you?” You asked jokingly, though a small part in your heart was scared that you were absolutely wrong about the Prince. 

“That depends on the information I learn tonight,” he made himself clear. “I cannot have the royal physician murdering the King claiming that it was for the Crown Prince. Not a good look for me.”

You agreed, passing him the family tree and pointing at the death register. “These are the official medical records which are in the main library as well. But these parts-” you pointed at the red ink. “That’s information that was never made public. Abnormalities noticed during the treatment of your grandfather who suffered from the same disease as your father. Notice how opium was used for treatment for a few weeks?”

Hongjoong skimmed through the notes, finding an unnamed opium compound mentioned in the treatment section. “And what’s odd about opium being used as a medicine?”

“That they stopped within a few weeks but administered it again- look at how it’s scratched, but the symptoms I’m observing in your father now are similar to your grandfather’s even after they apparently stopped using this opium compound. I asked around and found out which ingredients were used and attempted to replicate this drug for your father. Ruby.”

“Ah,” Hongjoong nodded in realisation. “But why would they stop mentioning the drug- oh, they wouldn’t.”

The air suddenly felt grim as Hongjoong realised that there was a chance that medical malpractice or perhaps, bad intentions were what took his grandfather’s life. “Who was the royal physician at that time?”

“No longer alive,” you told him. “Otherwise I would have confronted him. I do suspect that he never recorded this because he was afraid he would be blamed for His Majesty’s death. There’s also the possibility that one of his sons had a hand in this, though your father was unfazed when I told him that I was treating him with opium.”

Hongjoong cracked his neck, an amused look on his face. “One of my uncles then, huh?”

“Just pure speculation, but my bet is on the doctor making a mistake and realising too late,” you told him.

“So, Doctor,” Hongjoong got up and walked ever so slowly around the table, coming to stand right in front of you. “What do you intend to do about this?”

“Well, now I know that the symptoms of this drug wreaking havoc on the body mimic natural symptoms of the disease, so even if the King keeps using this and, well, dies… I can blame it on his poor health.”

“What do you get out of crowning me?” The Prince whispered, bringing his hand up to hold you by the jaw and even though his grip was gentle as he tilted your face up, you could feel the power exuding from him anyway. It didn’t help that he looked absolutely ravishing like this and you could feel the flimsy shreds of self control falling apart by each second-

You needed to remember that you were here, that you were the Master’s spy, that you were doing this for the ultimate goal. To save Wonderland. You could not be distracted by something as mere as feelings.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I only want you to be the King?” You asked. “Is it so hard to believe that someone actually wants you to rule Wonderland with all their heart?”

“That makes no sense-”

“I want you,” you tested, a shiver running down your spine when his gaze darkened. “I want you to let me keep my post and let me make advances in medicine. I want you to fund my research and allow me to expand my network- even in the black market. I want you to cover me if I make a mistake and in return… I’ll be at your service, however you want. I will get rid of anyone you want.”

He could hear the sound of his heart thumping wildly between his ears. He could hear your breath and feel a whisper of it on his wrist. He could see the dangerous gleam in your eyes and he knew that you were a force to be reckoned with. How had he missed it? How did you appear so normal throughout all those years? He only ever suspected you of maybe fancying him because quite a few times, he had caught you watching him with something that resembled fascination, but now he was finding that it might be obsession. 

A tool for him to use as he pleased. Someone who would do whatever he wants.

Though you weren’t sure if what you said was just a lie or you actually meant some part of it, it clearly had an effect on the Prince. 

Hongjoong brought his thumb to caress the skin near your lips, watching you react under his touch. It was clear as day to him that you wanted him in more ways than you were letting on, perhaps more than even you yourself were aware of. He swiped his thumb across your lower lip, watching your mouth part and your gaze expectant.

Hongjoong kept his thumb pressed on your lip as he bent down to meet your eyes, his face inches away from yours. You held your breath, your heart doing little flips that made you want to crawl away from him. He stared at you for a few moments.

“You will do as I say, whenever I say, whatever I want. Is that clear?” He ordered and you nodded. “For now, you will keep administering ruby to keep the King alive. We don’t want his health to deteriorate all of a sudden. I want you to learn the King’s intentions- who he really wants to crown and for what reasons. I’ll only hear what comes out of his mouth, not your silly little speculations. Make him talk.”

“Understood… Your Highness.”

Hongjoong nodded slowly, trailing his finger down your chin and tracing the outline of your jaw, trailing it down the angle of your neck and leaving goosebumps along your skin. He locked eyes with you as if to dare you to stop him but you only sat still, though he could swear you bent back just a fraction to allow him better access. He played with the pearls on your neck for a moment, trailing his finger down the middle of your chest until they met your collar, dangerously close to the hollow between your breasts.

With a teasing look and a smirk on his lips, he pressed at that spot before backing away. You took a moment to calm down before you shut the registers and put them back on the shelves, agreeing to meet here the night after tomorrow again. As soon as you were in the darkness and comfort of your room, you slumped down on the bed, exhaling.

You could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin. You could still feel his eyes boring into you. You could still feel the warmth of his breath caress your face.

And while you were overwhelmed with desire, there were more important matters at hand-

Finding out what the King wanted. You would make him talk and deliver the information to the Prince to prove your loyalty and service to him.

You could only hope he would really look at you and believe what you told him. That was necessary for your plan to actually work. You hoped he would think that all you wanted was to excel as a royal physician and medical researcher. You hoped he would understand that only he possessed the power to make that happen. And when he would let his guard down, that would be when you would strike. 

You picked the mattress to move one of the bed planks, revealing a box that contained paper and ink. Using the clear ink on the sandy paper with a bluebird on the corner, you began to write the first message after months of silence.

“The arrow has escaped the bow and is flying towards the target, slowly but surely. The wielder should start preparing for the aftermath.”

—------------------------------------

“How are you feeling, Your Majesty?” You asked, hand around his wrist to check his pulse, noting down the readings as he shuffled.

“Fine for the most part, but I feel lightheaded at times.”

“No changes in his diet?” You asked the nurse assigned to the King and she shook her head no. “Must be the drug then. Is it bearable?”

“For now,” the King confirmed, his eyes darting towards where his son stood at the corner of the room with his arms folded and a deadpan stare. The King shifted uncomfortably yet again and you shot a glare at the Prince which he caught, huffing and looking elsewhere. “Does he have to be present here?”

“Does he make you uncomfortable?” You asked nonchalantly, comparing your readings with the last few days and noticing a pattern. “He’s worried about your health.”

The King grunted. “As if.”

“More worried than your brothers you adore so much,” the Prince mocked. “I don’t see them inquiring about your health. At all.”

“Aren’t you just waiting to hear bad news?” The King asked and when Hongjoong was about to retort, you raised your hand in the air.

“I would appreciate it if you don’t rile him up, Prince Hongjoong,” you said politely. “Your Majesty, you should avoid stressing about your health so much. Have you been taking your morning walks?”

The nurse cleared her throat and you looked at her. “He’s missed two days in a row.”

You turned to look at the King who appeared guilty. “I’m feeling sluggish lately. It’s harder to get up in the morning.”

You noted that- could this be ruby’s doing? Shutting your register, you got up and talked to the nurse while the father and son argued a bit more about the Prince’s unusual presence and the King’s unusual love for his brothers. When you took your leave, the Prince accompanied you all the way to the main door and just when you were about to leave, he looked around to make sure no one was within earshot.

“I thought I asked you to keep the King healthy-”

You clicked your tongue and grabbed his wrist to pull him to your right so the nurse who just exited the King’s room wouldn’t notice the look on the Prince’s face. “Can you be more obvious? We shouldn’t be talking about this here- and it’s not my doing, by the way.”

The Prince looked at you with scepticism and before he could snatch his wrist from your grip, you let go of it yourself. You could see the muscles in his jaw clenching as he formed a response. 

“We’ll talk about this later,” the Prince promised almost threateningly and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Tonight. Library. Mingi will accompany you.”

You huffed in response, glancing at his aide who came to inspect what the noise was about. Bowing mockingly, you exited the chamber and made way towards your room near the medical chamber. 

You were about to make a turn to the left when you bumped into a guard who was carrying some documents and you apologised, squatting down to pick up the pages that he dropped. While collecting them and exchanging more apologies, you thought you spotted a familiar stamp but the guard was immediately on his way after thanking you. You took only two steps before you realised-

It was the bluebird stamp.

You kept walking, the Master’s bitter tone ringing in your ears reminding you to keep moving forwards and remain unfazed. It took a lot of effort to keep a straight face because after months of radio silence, you finally saw a sign that the bluebirds were here. They were in the castle and they had not abandoned you.

However, when you picked your mattress to take out the box and saw a letter inside, the contents of the letter made sweat ooze out of your pores even when you felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on you. You were once again reminded that the bluebirds were a very extensive network with eyes and ears everywhere.

But how did they know what happened inside the private library? You and Hongjoong were the only ones present. The short message in the letter seemed to suggest as if they had taken a peek inside your heart at your most vulnerable moment.

“Do not lose sight of the real target. Do not get distracted. Pleasure is temporary. Freedom can be eternal.”

The two hours that you waited for the Prince’s aide to knock on the door had to be the longest of your life. You simply sat on the chair biting your nails unceremoniously as you tried to figure out just who in the castle or the Prince’s closest companions could be the part of the rebel group that was the core of your identity.

The bluebirds, trained by one Master whose face had always been hidden behind a mask, whose voice was a command itself. Your parents were a part of that group, but you could hardly call them parents because as soon as you were able to walk on your own and think without guidance, your training started. You learned the art of disguise, trickery and manipulation. You learned science and medicine until you started achieving things on your own. You were no one special, though. You were just another spy who was in the castle, disguised as someone of importance. Any doubts about you being alone in the castle were gone now. 

You were wondering if the Prince was aware of the existence of your group- it was a secret underground rebel group but it had been active for decades now. The bluebirds were slowly but surely infiltrating the government bodies and were directly or indirectly responsible for some of the major policies that influenced the kingdom. 

When the knock sounded on the door, you sighed in relief and got up to open the door to Mingi and you greeted him with a nod, grabbing your keys and locking the room behind you. He accompanied you to the royal chamber in silence until you were almost there and he cleared his throat. 

“Is there a reason you have to access the private library so often?”

You narrowed your eyes purposely as he glanced at you. “Ask your prince? He doesn’t have to be present- I’m just looking for something that can help me with the King’s treatment.”

“Are you sure you’ll find that there?” He asked, taking a turn towards the corridor that led to the library. “I mean… have you looked in the main library?”

“Yes, and yes,” you said. “I’ve gone through everything before asking the Prince for permission to access the private library.”

“If you’re looking for medical related stuff, you should look for the archives in the public library here in the Capital too,” Mingi suggested and you perked up at that. “Anything of importance that is no longer in the castle can be found there.”

“If it is of importance, why would it be no longer in the castle?” You wondered.

“Rebels used to raid libraries about twenty years ago, if you remember your history,” Mingi answered. “Whatever was recovered went to the public library instead of back here.”

Now that was something you had not been aware of. If important archives and documents had been stolen, why were they at the public library instead of at the castle? And more importantly, was it the bluebirds that carried out these attacks? If it was the bluebirds, why had no one told you? You could have visited the public library with ease any time.

“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll make sure to visit the public library the next time I step out of the castle.”

Mingi smiled in response and extracted a key out of his pocket, unlocking the wooden carved door that opened to the library. “The Prince is inside. I’ll be on my way then.”

You nodded and stepped inside the dark room, letting the aide shut the door behind him as he left. You walked towards the window which was the only source of light- did the Prince not bother lighting any candles while he was inside-

There was a sole candle on the table where you had sat a few nights ago with Hongjoong when you checked the family tree. Hongjoong was nowhere to be found though, so you started walking past the shelves, looking to spot the man-

And trying your hardest to swallow a scream when he appeared out of nowhere, though he was quick to grab your arms to avoid a collision.

“Easy there,” he said, sounding amused. Probably because you were positive all the colour left your face. 

Well, if it had, it sure returned with a flush when you noticed how close you were to the Prince and how human he looked in the moonlight now that he wasn’t wearing his permanent scowl and his hair wasn’t styled to perfection. The tendrils falling on his forehead over his eyes created a soft look. It wasn’t always that the Prince looked anything less than menacing so you got a good look at him before wriggling away.

“Sorry, but you could have lit a few more candles. It’s pretty dark here.”

“We avoid candles. Don’t want to risk a fire, which is why it’s usually optimal to access this room when the sun is out.”

“Can’t go around scheming during the day though, can we?” You said casually though the comment made the Prince chuckle darkly. It looked like he was finally coming to terms with you- and himself. 

“Doesn’t seem like the daytime would be a hindrance for you,” the Prince put his hands in the pockets of the black slacks he was wearing. “Did you switch the drug? Why is the King feeling off?”

“I need to research a bit more to answer that,” you folded your arms. “I don’t control the way his body reacts to the drug. If it seems like ruby will deteriorate his health at a rapid pace, I might have to stop administering that drug to him.”

“Lower the dose then,” he ordered. “Or do you have a better alternative?”

“A better alternative to what?” You dared to ask, earning an annoyed look. “Do you want the King alive and healthy for as long as possible?”

Hongjoong cocked his head- did you really want to hear it from his mouth?

“Or… do you want his health to decline such that it would seem natural?” You scoffed at the way he glared at you. “Surely, you must have made up your mind by now.”

“I asked you to keep the King healthy,” he practically spat. “And I asked you to make him talk.”

“I think he dislikes your presence a little too much, Prince,” you snickered. “I actually slipped a few drops of verita tonight. A harmless little thing, only makes you a bit hazy so that you start saying things you wouldn’t otherwise. And oh, the only thing he had to say was that you’re just waiting for him to die.”

“Yeah, well, that is the sad truth,” he said mockingly, glancing towards the window. “He won’t talk in front of me. I suspected that.”

“Looks like you’re stuck with me then,” you said, moving past him to go to the last shelf which contained the rest of the medical records of the royal family that you hadn’t had the chance to access yet. “I do think he’s aware that he doesn’t have much time. Isn’t the Duke of Neverland visiting soon?”

“Next week, yes. Bet he’ll be over the clouds to see my father dying especially when he learns that he’s in his good graces.”

“Well… that’s how I’m here to help,” you glanced at him. “I was thinking… your father was the crown prince, which means he probably didn’t visit your grandfather much when he was ill. He must have been too busy trying to keep the kingdom stable and running.”

“That’s right,” Hongjoong agreed. “I recall my grandfather complaining how he never made time for him.”

“And it’s a known fact that the Duke of Neverland tried to snatch the title of crown prince. Tried to coerce his father. Didn’t work, did it?”

“He was let off with a warning, and now he’s after me.”

“He must have visited your grandfather a lot then,” you brought the medical register that you had checked a few nights ago back to the table. “The royal physician who treated your grandfather is no longer alive, but the Duke of Neverland must know something about the treatment. You have to keep an eye on him and watch his reaction carefully when it is revealed that ruby is being used to treat the King.”

Hongjoong frowned. “Do you suspect that he had something to do with it?”

“I do,” you admitted. “Especially because he’s been coveting your title. He might have meddled with the late King’s treatment- it’s just an assumption for now, but it is strange how the late King suddenly passed away.”

The Prince nodded slowly and you could see that he was trying to connect the dots. You cleared your throat, catching his attention.

“I also plan to visit the public library in the city soon. Your aide Mingi told me that I may find something of importance there.”

Hongjoong wasn’t surprised to hear that so you figured they must have discussed something. “He’ll accompany you on that visit.”

“Alright,” you said, getting up to find more books and records on the royal bloodline’s medical history. 

Time passed by quickly even though you found little to nothing of interest, but it looked like the seed of doubt had been planted because the Prince seemed to be deep in thought as he kept glancing at the page you had pointed to- the word ‘opium’ scratched over and over as if someone had tried to erase the evidence of it. You smiled to yourself- the plan seemed to be working.

Though you kept one eye on the Prince, you became distracted by a book on alchemy that seemed to be annotated by the royal physician during the time of the King’s grandfather. You flipped through the pages, mouth parted in surprise and awe at the dedication and effort of the royal physician- he seemed to have created the blueprint for most of the drugs that were now commonly supplied throughout Wonderland, and that was a remarkable feat.

You almost didn’t hear the Prince until he was right behind you and you jumped a little when he rested a hand on your shoulder to let him take a peek at what you were reading. When he noticed the surprise on your face, he smirked.

“What’s got you so busy and immersed that you didn’t notice my presence?”

“Sorry, uh,” you collected yourself, sliding away just a fraction but he seemed to have caught that- he caught everything. “Notes from the royal physician during your great grandfather’s time. He’s a figure we doctors look up to a lot.”

Hongjoong flipped through the pages, book still in your hand. “Have you always wanted to become a doctor?”

A question so simple yet you had never been asked before. Your brows rose momentarily as you processed the question, trying not to lose yourself in the spiral of what the real answer was- that no. You never wanted to become a doctor. It was just something you taught yourself to love- or something you pretend to love so you don’t forget why you’re here-

“Is it such a difficult question to answer?” He shrugged, taking the book from you so you would have no choice but to focus on him.

“I guess I just learned to love it when I found myself in this field,” you said. Probably the first honest thing you had shared with the Prince. “Have you always wanted to be the crown prince?”

Hongjoong laughed at that, caught by surprise at your sudden question and you found yourself joining- you had never heard the Crown Prince laugh like that- like a kid, unguarded. The Prince seemed to realise that too, though that didn’t stop him. You supposed that since it was only the two of you within the privacy of these four walls, he felt more at ease. And though the rational part in you told you that it was good that he was letting his guard down, your heart ached for some reason.

“I guess I learned to love it too?” He shrugged. “At some point, it becomes something you have to do rather than something you want to do.”

You nodded- you knew that all too well. “You’re doing this for the kingdom.”

“For the people,” he said. “The King hasn’t been making the best decisions regarding the kingdom ever since he got sick. The people- I know they aren’t fond of me, but they do not know how to run this kingdom. They think resuming trade with the bordering nations like the King plans to will help stabilise our economy.”

“I mean… a common man would think that you would save a lot from land routes instead of the sea routes.”

“But the common man is not aware that the King plans to impose more taxes and tariffs on his people,” Hongjoong told you as if letting you in on a secret- it was, except you were already aware. “And I think even if they find out, they will overlook that. In the long run, it will only create more problems and smuggling will become rampant. We barely managed to control that when we were recovering from the late King’s death.”

“But do you really care about the people?” You dared to question, relaxing when Hongjoong only passed you an amused look. “Or is it just because you want to prove something to your father and uncles?”

“Can’t it be a little bit of both?” He leaned against the shelf. “The people…” Hongjoong shook his head. “They say it’s only the people who suffer from the decisions we make. Is that really true though? Because I think they’re living a pretty pleasant life without worrying about making decisions of such magnitudes.”

“I guess the royal class suffers in their own way,” you scoffed. “Insomnia.”

“Insomnia can’t be classified as suffering anymore. It’s more of a bonus.”

You smiled at that- that was true. There wasn’t a royal who didn’t suffer from lack of sleep- or lack of good sleep. “Is there something that helps you sleep better at night? Apart from the prescriptions?”

“Overworking,” Hongjoong spread his arms to prove what he was doing right now instead of resting. “And… well. Other activities.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you love to hear about that,” Hongjoong smiled suggestively and you were lost for a second before you almost choked, looking away to keep the flush creeping on your cheeks at bay. “Want to help me with that? Be my personal nurse?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, snatching the book from him and putting it back on the shelf, his dark chuckle echoing inside you. He leaned forward right at the moment that you were turning in his direction, the both of you surprised when you found your faces inches away from each other- you could almost see the flecks of brown in his dark orbs even in the faint moonlight.

Almost hastily, you took one step back at the same moment that he leaned forward, his eyes locked with yours. You raised a brow, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words. The air was thick with tension, taking the form of something almost electric and tangible- you were sure if you mimicked his movements and leaned forward, you would combust.

The Prince slipped his tongue between his teeth in contemplation and your gaze fell there- a mistake, because you were so, so tempted to get a taste of those plush lips. If it wasn’t obvious to Hongjoong, you were curling in on yourself with each passing second as your heart and mind clashed with one another violently inside of you-

“Didn’t peg you as the shy type,” the Prince commented, barely a whisper.

“I’m not shy,” you retorted. “I’m just trying to find an answer as to why you keep crowding my personal space.”

“Ah, is that how it is now?” Hongjoong tsk-ed in disappointment, standing straight now. “Thought you liked it when I did that.”

You did. You couldn’t tell him that not because he couldn’t know, but because you were sure he would do something about it and that couldn’t end well for you.

“Looks like you’ll be up all night tonight then,” you scoffed, making the Prince laugh again. “I’ll be taking my leave now. Unlike you, I’m not a royal so I cannot sleep in or ditch my duties. Goodnight, Prince.”

Hongjoong only shook his head in amusement as he watched your figure disappear. The smile fell when you left and he went back to sit on the sofa, watching the moon from the window.

He was pretty sure you had an ulterior motive under the pretence that you were unquestionably loyal to him. There was no such thing as loyalty- a person was faithful as long as they were satisfied. Hongjoong knew that very well, so he wondered just what you were going to get out of killing the King and crowning him. It didn’t look like you wanted to sit on the throne with him, but he didn’t dismiss the possibility- you could simply just be very good at hiding your feelings.

But then… a smirk started creeping on Hongjoong’s lips as he recalled the way he got you flustered. It wasn’t his presence that got you all tense- it was when he flirted, that was clear to him now. However, you were putting up quite a fight-

And Hongjoong wasn’t one to back away from a fight. Plus… he really wanted to shut you up once. 

And if getting in your good graces- if it could be called that- would get him some answers then he was going to make this enjoyable. 

He just had to keep his guard up. And that wasn’t so hard, was it?

—--------------------------

It was becoming harder with each passing day to keep your guard up when you were with the Prince.

He was just as stubborn and hot-headed as ever, which was already something you had to deal with. He was especially jumpy since the Duke of Neverland seemed to have been attacked by a ‘rebel group’ on his way to the castle and had delayed his trip by a few days. The King was worrying too much about his brother and that annoyed the Crown Prince to bits. His frustration was obvious and everyone around him was having to deal with the aftermath. 

And because he was so frustrated, he couldn’t sleep which meant that whenever you met up in the private library- not to read anymore but to talk and plan- he acted… different. You wondered if it was the lack of sleep that was making him lightheaded and outright flirtatious but it seemed to be just… Hongjoong being Hongjoong. And you weren’t sure how long you could keep joking around like this- turning him down by joking was what you had been doing actually.

It was the little things- he would sit in front of you only to overwhelm you with his stare, his eyes scanning you in a different manner than usual. He would purposely play with the edge of your skirt or if he was feeling a little daring, with your fingers while you chatted about medical history or politics. You tried your best to ignore it, especially since there was an obvious reason that you could not involve yourself with the Prince. 

But with each passing day and each passing moment spent by the Prince’s side, you were wondering if it would be too bad to have just a little fun while you carried out your plan. And if you looked at the bigger picture, it could help you carry out your plan and perhaps benefit you in ways you hadn’t ever considered before.

It would also be a slap on the Master’s face. The Master who had overseen your training and told you that all you were was just a piece in the puzzle he was playing. In your whole life, even at the castle, whenever you were about to make a decision of your own, he would send a sign and hold your invisible reins back- just like when you saw one of the guards with the bluebird stamp. It was always a warning that came out of the Master’s mouth and never a word of encouragement or affirmation that you were on the right path and that your efforts were commendable.

You had dedicated your whole life to the cause of the bluebirds- to end the monarchy, once and for all. It had been attempted in the past but never successfully, and you supposed it was because the previous rulers had been wise enough to dismiss internal conflict so they could focus on the external threats from the bluebirds. However, after decades, there was finally enough internal conflict to narrow the royals’ visions. They would not see it coming. There were many key players in this plan, in the light and in the shadows- but you were aware that you were the wild card of this game.

And if you succeeded, which you were bound to from the looks of it so far, the monarchy would end- there would be no one of royal blood left to rule, and before someone else could take over, the other players would make sure that the system of monarchy would collapse and democracy would be established. Once that was done, the people would finally have a taste of true freedom. It was going to be a very tragic end for the royal bloodline, and if you were going to play a part in it…

Would it be too wrong to have some fun and have him think that you actually liked him? Though if you started pondering on the matter, you didn’t have an answer- you were confused. But it was becoming harder to reject his subtle advances and you weren’t sure how long you could hold your fort, so why not let him think he had the upper hand?

“You’re staring, sweetheart.”

It didn’t help when he called you sweetheart or kitten or something equally stupid (and something that strangely tugged at your heartstrings). You quite liked hearing such terms from his mouth and you wanted to hear him say a lot more-

“Drooling, now.”

“There’s just a strange insect near your ear-”

The terrified face the Prince made as he swatted wildly near both his ears made you choke down your laugh but when he finally realised you were joking, you laughed wholeheartedly, clapping your hands in disbelief while Hongjoong recovered from the surprise and embarrassment.

“Do you have a death wish?” He growled, shaking his head and you wiped the tears in your eyes, noticing that he was almost smiling now.

“Do you have a death wish?” You countered. “I wasn’t staring, neither was I drooling. I just… zoned out.”

“You were staring,” he insisted. “But I don’t blame you. I’m quite a sight for sore eyes, am I not?”

“Totally,” you muttered, not daring to fuel him further lest he figure you out. You set the vials in your hands aside, getting up to grab the washcloth and clean the counter. “If you’re going to make my lab your lounge, I must let you know that I’m not responsible if I ‘accidentally’ spill a chemical on you.”

“Yeah, this might not be the best place to get comfortable,” he sent you a suggestive look. “There are tons of abandoned rooms in the castle.”

“And you want me to give you company?” you wiped at a stubborn blue mark on the counter near the Prince’s hand. “Because we haven’t been doing anything, just coexisting in the same space. Sounds like someone has been lonely.”

When he didn’t respond, you glanced at him to find his expressions guarded. It strangely reminded you of yourself and you continued. “It’s alright. I’m not one to say, though I must admit I thought you had more people who you met eye to eye with.”

“Well, you’re the only one who knows my wicked intentions,” he scoffed. “I might have to get rid of you for that.”

“No wonder you have no friends,” you made a face, taking off your apron and going to wash your hands in the sink. “I thought you appreciated that I was willing to kill for you.”

“You know, I really don’t get it,” Hongjoong got up, walking towards the other counter where you were drying your hands. “You sound like you’ve killed people. Or you think too highly of yourself.”

“Well… we both have blood on our hands, whether we’ve killed or not,” you said and he realised that was true. “A lot of people have died by my hands, just like they have by yours.”

Hongjoong didn’t need to know that you had actually poisoned and killed whoever came close to discovering the identity of the bluebirds. He would only assume you meant that about your sick patients, and that was fine.

“Does it keep you up at night?” He asked teasingly.

“Not really,” you grinned. “It’s not what keeps you up either.”

Hongjoong shook his head in disbelief and wonder, his hand going to your face almost naturally to tuck the stray hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to sound so happy about it, princess, just because you don’t have to pretend to be sad about it in front of me.”

Princess. 

How could he so casually call you princess and invoke such a powerful desire in you to be the owner of that title? To have the Prince repeatedly call you that? 

“Do you go around calling anyone princess?” You asked, sounding out of breath and Hongjoong raised his brow- he didn’t realise that it would have such an effect on you, but then again-

He had never called anyone princess, not even jokingly.

“Do you like that?” He asked, his thumb caressing your cheek as his hand cupped your face. “Do you like being called princess?”

“It’s you who said it, Prince.” you answered.

Hongjoong cocked his head in thought- were you after the title then, or had you simply never been called something affectionate? Because he did notice how you reacted every time he called you something as simple as sweetheart, or love- even when it was derogatory. He wished he could peek inside your mind and see what you were thinking-

He saw how your gaze darkened when you gently grabbed his wrist to draw his hand away from his face just a fraction, only to peck his palm- your lips felt like the brush of a feather against his skin but that only fueled his selfish desire to get a taste of them for himself.

“Do not ever call me a princess again,” you warned in a low voice, surprising him. “Do not call me anything that you don’t mean. I’ll take my leave first. Goodnight, Your Highness.”

Before you could fully turn away from him, he caught your wrist and tugged you towards him, making your body collide with his lightly. The two of you were now flush against each other, your joined hands in the air as he scanned your face, the desire in your eyes so obvious that it was palpable. 

And he was pretty sure he was very obvious too- he just couldn’t help it. He was beyond confused and it irked him to no end and he needed to find the answer. He was sure you were his answer-

You shook your head as if that could help your situation but you gave up and rested your forehead against his shoulder, feeling his body stiffen for just a second before he relaxed. He let go of your wrist only to place his hands on the curve of your hips while you fisted the material of his shirt in your hands-

Oh, you wanted to have a little fun? This was it, and it scared you to no end. You only took a few moments to inhale and memorise the musky notes of his scent before you drew back and made way to the exit without meeting eyes with him.

You couldn’t face him when you weren’t sure if you just wanted to play with him, use him or be with him.

—----------------------------

“If that black fake dye wasn’t obvious, your jumpiness is giving you away,” you commented when you spotted Hongjoong casting a wary glance at the poor teen who happened to cross your path. “You can take off the cloak. It’s just a library.”

“If anyone recognises me here, it could get dangerous,” he muttered.

“It’s literally the library, relax,” you said, looking at Mingi for help but he seemed to be enjoying your bickering and raised his hands in surrender. “You’re making it harder for me to concentrate. Mingi, can you accompany the Prince to the kids’ section please?”

“Don’t call me the Prince here- hey!” Hongjoong scowled, making Mingi stifle another snicker. “I’m not bothering you, okay? Read what you have to, I’m just standing here.”

“I mean… you are making it a bit obvious,” Mingi started but shut up when the Prince shot him a dirty look. “Alright, let’s give the doctor some space so we can save some time. We don’t have to go to the kids’ section.”

You groaned in relief, silently thanking Mingi who was originally going to be your only companion on this trip to the library. It looked like the Prince’s aide had gotten used to whatever was going on with you two, or simply didn’t care enough to question it. Perhaps he didn’t dare to, which wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. But you still had no idea why the Prince was here- did he have so much free time or was he shirking his duties? Why did the Prince’s aide not tell him this was a bad idea?

Whatever it was, you took your sweet time exploring everything on the royals- not just the medical related knowledge you were here for, but political history and uprisings, specifically. You were aware that things could take a very wrong turn and you wanted to be prepared for everything. You didn’t want to be limited only by the knowledge the Master had allowed you to gain. 

So when about two hours later you went to find Hongjoong and Mingi, you almost panicked when you couldn’t spot them anywhere- but while frantically searching for them you heard low, oddly familiar giggles. You narrowed your eyes as you took two turns to find the Prince and his aide sitting on the floor side by side, pointing at crude images in the comic books-

In the kids’ section.

You cleared your throat, but they only spared you a glance, snickering at something funny they read but remaining unmoving. 

“Your Royal Highness,” you sighed. “It’s getting dark. We should go back to the castle.”

“Let me just finish this chapter,” Hongjoong wiped a fake tear from his eye while Mingi doubled over with laughter over something he read. You folded your arms, looking at them in utter disbelief.

This was the Prince you were supposed to put on the throne? This was the man the Master wanted you to kill?

You smiled to yourself at the sight of the two- you weren’t sure the Prince would get to have such carefree moments in the future, so you let them take their time, making a mental note of whatever they were reading. When they finished the chapter, they got up and got back to being the stuck-up Prince and guarded aide duo, steering you towards the exit and into the carriage to go back to the castle.

The ride was mostly silent, all of you sorting your thoughts out. You agreed to meet up later tonight at one of the abandoned rooms that had become your rendezvous point now. For now, the Prince sneaked back to his room through one of the secret routes so no one would question why he was out looking like that with the royal physician, of all the people.

You were glad that you were busy for the rest of the evening with lab work and assisting the other doctors in the infirmary. You went to the royal chamber later at night for the routine checkup on the King, administering the lower ruby dose mixed with a little verita this time. There were some answers you needed, so you dismissed the nurse, saying she could take a breather while you talked to the King.

“Hongjoong has been diligent lately. It’s strange,” the King found himself pondering out loud.

“Has he not always been diligent?” You asked- the Prince was known to be too hardworking.

“It’s like he almost means it now,” the King admitted. “It makes me rethink if I’ve been too harsh on him.”

“Or maybe he’s just preparing to take over more of your duties,” you carefully threw in the suggestion. “You haven’t been attending some of the meetings.”

“Could be,” he laughed, though it didn’t sound happy. “Woobin is arriving next week- he could be preparing himself. They’re always clashing with each other whenever they’re in the same room.”

“Hmm… about that,” you began, knowing that the verita was working now. “What do you think about the attack on His Highness Woobin?”

“What is there to think?” The old man frowned. “The Duke of Neverland has enemies just like all of us.”

“I was just wondering if you should look into which rebel group specifically planned the attack. It could be that insiders shared information and his travel route.”

The King thought for a moment, scratching the grey stubble on his face in thought. “You’re right. It’s either his men or one of ours.”

“You know, I went to the city today,” you told him while rubbing the pressure points on his hand. “And I heard rumours- people are speculating the Prince might have had a hand in the Duke’s attack. It’s not a secret that you favour the Duke and might pass the hierarchy to him- the public does prefer your brother over your son.”

“Ah…” the old man frowned in thought. “Could this be the case?”

“They’re only rumours,” you shrugged. “Nothing to worry about, really.”

But you had planted the seeds of worry and doubt in the King, strengthening his likening for the Duke. Once he would confront Hongjoong and demand answers or a confession to something he didn’t do, the Prince’s hatred for his father and uncles would amplify.

And when that would happen, you would be there for the Prince. You would act as his sword when he would demand it, and shield him when he would need it. You would do all of that before turning at him.

But for now… 

“He really thinks I’m not performing my duties properly?”

“You don’t have to sound so hurt- it’s not like he knows how hard you work,” you consoled the Prince. “He would think you’re neglecting your duties but he’s coped up in his room all day. He’s just being bitter.”

Hongjoong folded his arms and you shook your head at the way he was sulking, his frown deepening with each passing second. “He’s never going to acknowledge me.”

“You don’t have to get acknowledged by him. You’re the rightful owner of the crown. Neither the King nor his brothers should try to take that away from you.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I’m tempted to give up too,” he confessed and your eyes widened in surprise. He looked away from you, the faint hues of the candlelight casting shadows at the cuts and creases of his face. “I’m driving myself to do something for this kingdom only to be remembered as a tyrant in the history books you love reading so much.”

Even though he had pretended not to care about having such a reputation for the rest of his life, you were a bit thrown off to learn that it was a genuine concern he harboured in his heart. Once again, you found yourself blurring the lines of what was supposed to be the boundary between your facade and the feelings in the deepest recesses of your heart. 

“You don’t have to look at me like that,” he chuckled darkly. “I don’t know why I’m even saying this in the first place.”

“It’s okay to share,” you urged. “No judgement here.”

“Yeah, I might be a bit too honest in your presence,” he laughed, shaking his head. “You know, while we were at the library and Mingi and I were reading those stupid books-”

“You loved those stupid books-”

“Not the point, but I realised something,” Hongjoong sent you a warning glare to not interrupt him again and you sat straighter, crossing your legs that were dangling from the edge of the bed. “I realised that I rarely ever had moments where I was just… Hongjoong. Not the prince, not the crown prince.”

“Just Hongjoong looked a bit silly, I’ll admit.”

Hongjoong only smiled at that. You decided to do something about this- you did not like him seeing so quiet and sentimental. 

“Even the greatest of warriors are called privileged by people who will never know what sacrifices they made so their kids live a better life than they did,” you said. “You may think that you’re alone, but you’re not. You’ve got one loyal supporter right here,” you raised your hand and he let out a short laugh. “You don’t need to convince the world- or even your father- to see your true intentions. Not that they would appreciate it, now that I think about it…”

Hongjoong laughed at that, resting his hand on his chest. “That was a jab.”

“Yeah, well, the world doesn’t need to know you plan to get rid of the King so they can live a better life in the future,” you teased. “They would be appalled to learn that.”

“You should shut your mouth sometimes, darling. You’re too loud,” he warned though he couldn’t keep himself from smiling shamelessly. 

Your eyes twinkled with curiosity and wonder- he really was just like you. You weren’t the most moral person, you knew all too well- the Master had drained the morality out of you, but he- 

He was here, in all his royal glory yet still just as ugly as you inside. He didn’t attempt to hide it, rather wore it like a badge, though only those who really looked at him found who he truly was.

And that was what was so beautiful about him.

“Aren’t you glad to have me?” You teased. “I bet you can’t talk to Mingi about this stuff. Does he know that you’re hiding something monstrous behind that pretty face?”

“His only job is to help me with the royal duties,” he said. “He doesn’t need to know, but… I’m sure he’s caught on. He doesn’t seem to care, though.”

“You should still be cautious.”

“Yeah, I should be, shouldn’t I?” The Prince leaned back on the chair he was sitting on, folding his arms as he cast a suspicious glance at you. “Maybe I should ask Mingi to get rid of you. You know too much.”

“Oh, you want to shut me up so bad,” you rolled your eyes. “But I’m the only one who’ll dirty my hands for you.”

“Why-”

“Talking about dirtying my hands,” you got up and bent down a bit to reach his height, running your fingers through the hair next to his temple and catching the remnants of the black dye on your palm. You showed him. “It’s so noticeable- you should have washed it out properly.”

The Prince didn’t answer, his eyes guarded as he looked up at you though his mouth was parted almost expectantly. You frowned for a moment at the lack of his reaction before you realised-

He liked it. 

You hesitated before curling your hand in his soft platinum hair again, caressing his scalp and then stifling a smirk when you tugged at his hair a bit harshly, making him crane his neck up to look at you, a soft chuckle escaping his mouth as he shut his eyes.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game here, love.”

“Stop me, then,” you challenged, not caring that you were going to risk everything. You positioned one leg on his thigh to lean your weight on him, your other hand going to grip the back of his neck. “I don’t see you complaining, Prince.”

Hongjoong hooked one finger in the pearl necklace that you were always wearing, bringing you closer and you almost lost your balance, a little gasp leaving your mouth when you pressed against his chest for support. Hands still on his neck and in his hair, you tried leaning away but this time, he stilled you with his hands on your waist. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“You smell like chemicals, darling,” he breathed, pecking the skin where his lips met your neck. “And roses.”

“You smell like cheap hair dye,” you said, resting your cheek against his head, his body shaking under you as he chuckled. “Don’t ever wear that again.”

“Your wish is my command, princess,” he said and you froze again. He leaned back to scan your face. “Why? You told me to not call you what I didn’t mean.”

“You don’t mean that, though,” you told him, something incredibly sad starting to brew inside you.

“But I’m only ever honest with you,” he pleaded. “Don’t you know that? If I wasn’t, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

You sighed at that, wishing you were anywhere else other than his fucking lap so your brain wouldn’t have so much problem functioning, but it looked like for now, you were a lost cause. You caught the wetness from the outer corner of his left eye, wiping it down and smearing the black dye on his face in the process. He let you mark him and, mimicking what you had done the night you had warned him not to call him ‘princess’, he grabbed your palm and kissed it.

That was your last straw. You told yourself that you didn’t care if the Prince was honest or deceiving you- you only cared about one thing- you needed him. You rested your cheek against his, trailing kisses down his temple to his jaw and rubbing the tip of your nose there, making him groan. He squeezed your hips encouragingly and that only prompted you to trail more kisses down his neck. You found one spot and alternated between kissing and sucking, drawing away after a few moments when he shifted under you, grinning at the forming bruise.

You marked the Prince like you owned him. And the thought of that alone was making you lightheaded.

You locked eyes with Hongjoong, seeing red- red for lust. Before you knew it, you both were leaning in, your lips meeting in a flurry as you snaked your hands back in his hair, gripping his head to keep him close as you kissed. He brought your body closer while he kissed you, switching from pecks to open-mouthed kisses when you fully rested on his lap, desire coursing through every cell in your body.

This was it. This was the man the Master had warned you to be wary of- the man who held you possessively yet carefully. The man who tugged at your bottom lip, prompting you to open your mouth so he could explore it with his tongue. The man who kissed you as if he had been starving for it- you didn’t know about him but you sure had. 

You couldn’t bring yourself closer, bodies flush against each other as you made out for what seemed like an eternity before he got up, making you wrap your legs around his waist and then he dumped you on the old, somewhat dusty bed. You didn’t care though. You brought him in too, keeping his core locked to yours with your legs, his hands fumbling to open the buttons of your gown- he might as well have torn them. He ripped the bodice of your gown apart, trailing his lips down your neck to your chest and resting his lips on the skin between your breasts.

“Tired already?” You teased, making him chuckle against your chest. He ran his hands up your waist, tracing the curves of your chest before his palms met the bare skin on your shoulders and then he ran his hands down your arms almost lovingly, your smile changing to a gasp when he gripped your wrists tightly and pinned your arms above your head, almost glaring at you.

“You talk too much, sweetheart.”

“Do I now?” you scoffed, letting him pin your wrists with one hand while the other drew your dress away from your chest to reveal your perked up nipples, the cold making you shiver a bit. He cupped one of your breasts in one hand while kissing and sucking around the other, making your back arch against his body. The way he kissed you was too much- it looked like he intended to devour you. You could feel how turned on he was when he started rocking his body against yours, his hard bulge pressing against your core and making you stifle moans until he purposely pressed harder, finally earning a loud one from you.

“That’s what you’ve been wanting all this time, haven’t you?” Hongjoong whispered in your ear, nibbling at your earlobe and making you squirm. “Only wanting to get in my good graces to get fucked by me.”

“Yeah, well, if I had known this was going to happen,” you said, out of breath. “I would have done something sooner.”

He chuckled at that, pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth and drawing back, looking you in the eyes before kissing you deeper. He let you take off his shirt, discarding it on the floor. He let you run your hands on his bare upper body repeatedly, let you help him take off your dress and his pants until you were both left in just your undergarments. He let you take control for just a while when you got on top of him, settling on his lap and admiring his physique. 

His hands rested on your hips, playing with the waistband of your panties, tempted to do something about that too, but for now, he watched you watch him with desire in your eyes. He was surprised to find you so needy yet each touch felt controlled, almost calculated. He didn’t care though- it was already pleasurable enough to drive him insane. He had never let anyone take control of the pace like you did, so he was looking forward to what you were going to do with him.

And he was glad that he let you- you wrapped your hand around his neck experimentally before you bent down to kiss him, loving the way his kisses now became restrained as you controlled his air intake. You swallowed his moans in your kisses, not noticing how tightly he was squeezing your hips until he spanked you once, making you laugh as you drew back.

“Do you have a death wish?” He asked, voice raspy.

“Maybe?” You pecked his cheek.

That was enough- he flipped your bodies to get on top of you, shaking his head before trailing kisses down your chest and then looking at you, watching your expressions when he brought his hand between your legs and brushed one finger against the wet patch on your panties.

“Soaked already, and we’ve just begun.”

“Just begun?” You asked, mouth suddenly dry though the thought of what was next sent a new wave of arousal through your body. Hongjoong snickered at your reaction, wasting no time to pull your panties down, licking his lips at the sight of your drenched core. You kicked him away lightly before taking off your panties and he ran his hands up your thighs-

Pausing when he felt marred skin on his palm and cold washed over you when you realised that he hadn’t noticed the small marks and scars that littered through your body earlier in the faint light- but now, his eyes stopped at each one that he detected.

“Are you going to explain this?”

“Rough childhood,” you muttered- not the entire truth, but close. “Most of these are from how reckless I was, though. Nothing to worry about.”

Hongjoong passed you a look that said that he didn’t buy it, but he didn’t probe. Instead, he kissed every mark and every scar that he found on your thighs before spreading your legs and circling your clit with his thumb, now sporting a devilish smile. You bit your lips- if the emotions from him treating you so tenderly were too much just now, this was a lot. It felt more intimate and personal than anything you had ever experienced. 

“Look at you, y/n,” he called your name- a rare occurrence. “Look at you.”

Before you could respond, he sank one finger inside you quite easily, groaning at how tightly your walls hugged him. You shut your eyes, back arching in pleasure when he curled it inside and slipped another finger- he really did intend to fuck you, and you were going to take it.

“Good girl,” he muttered, meeting your mouth in a wet kiss. You tried to clench your thighs, overwhelmed by the pleasure you got from his fingers curling and opening inside you but he locked your thighs to the bed with his knees, making out with you while his fingers fucked you. Your breathing got unsteady and he knew you were approaching your orgasm which was when he let your legs free, your hips moving of their own accord, rocking against his palm.

“God, you’re insane,” he growled in your ear, slipping his fingers out of you and you almost sobbed at the lack of them inside you, though when he watched his soaked fingers in amusement and licked them to get a taste, you felt shivers in your entire body. He hummed in approval.

“Do something,” you begged but he laughed mockingly. When you shot him a glare, he nodded slowly.

“Whatever you say…” he brought his mouth so close to your core that his lips brushed your aching clit. “Princess.”

Before you could react, he grabbed your thighs to keep them apart, licking a stripe up your wet folds and circling his tongue around your clit. You saw stars, your orgasm fastly approaching once again and all he had to do was dive his tongue inside you and press his thumb on your clit before your orgasm came like a crash, making you want to curl in on yourself but you couldn’t even do that because he restrained you, so you only writhed in his hold in pleasure while he made out with your sopping wet cunt.

“Too much,” you tried to stop him. “Let me breathe, Prince.”

“Oh, I’m not done with you,” he told you almost casually. “You have yet to have me inside you.”

“Oh, god,” you breathed. “Please.”

He snickered at that. “Such a slut for me, aren’t you?”

“Only for you,” you looked at him. “Only for you… my King.”

“Oh, no, no,” he shook his head repeatedly. “You did not just say that.”

“King,” you got up to snake your arms around his neck. “My King. You like being called that?”

He did- it was obvious because he crashed his lips against yours, passionately kissing you and drawing back only to take off his undergarment, not even giving you a moment to appreciate the sight before pushing you down and sinking his throbbing cock inside you, though he was gracious enough to be slow with it so you could adjust. Once he was fully inside you, he remained there unmoving, pulling you up by your shoulders to resume your original position when you kissed him. 

You sat on top of him, whispering the title he craved so badly again and again as you exchanged deep, passionate kisses. He called you princess, called you his queen and you returned the favour. His cock twitched inside you and when he couldn’t take it anymore, he pushed you back on the bed and started thrusting into you, your breaths mingling as your bodies rocked against each other. You told him that you were on contraceptives and he was free to mark your walls if he wanted to, and he bit your shoulder in answer, squeezing your nipples as his motions became unsteady and he jerked wildly against you, his warm cum spreading inside you. 

You kept him close, keeping him going and he thrust through his orgasm until you came as well, burying your face in his chest as both your moans mingled and filled the air in the room. When he finally stilled, he collapsed next to you.

“You plan to kill me, don’t you?” 

For a moment, your heart sank and you wondered if a confession had slipped through your mouth in the heat of the moment, or if he had really managed to peek inside your mind. But when he chuckled, you realised he meant it differently.

“Says you,” you smacked his arm and he brought you closer, kissing your forehead, the both of you unable to meet eyes for a moment as you attempted to conceal the truth and the guilt that accompanied it.

—--------------------------------

The Duke of Neverland- Prince Woobin- arrived two days earlier than schedule, setting off a mild frenzy in the castle as preparations to welcome him fell short, guards’ and soldiers’ rotations shifted, more medical staff got stationed in the infirmary and the kitchen-

Well, the kitchen probably got the worst of it. Though dinner went by smoothly, the staff was overworked and while you were passing by, you overheard a funny conversation about how Prince Woobin’s handsomeness and gentle nature made their efforts worth it.

You supposed you could relate to the sentiment- the Prince wasn’t very old but sure was ageing like fine wine. He was the tallest of them and had strong features just like Hongjoong, though Hongjoong was on the prettier side. The Duke was just as clever as he could be, and he was clearly ambitious especially when it came to the throne and its duties.

And… he intended to let the King know.

“Wonderland is unstable right now, brother,” Prince Woobin insisted. “What the other kingdoms need to see is that our royalty won’t collapse and we’ll stay united and put a strong front.”

There. He was definitely on to something.

“You’re right,” the King nodded, sighing deeply. “I will hold the coronation soon- I’d like it if I can see it happen while I’m alive. I know I’m no longer fit to run this kingdom.” 

He wasn’t, and you had made sure of that. You were just waiting for the right timing. You felt sorry that the King wouldn’t see his last wish come true but you were sure he would watch from above. That was something you were going to believe for his sake.

“I don’t mean that you’re not fit,” Prince Woobin squeezed the King’s arm gently. “But your health is not the best, and it’s better to announce the next in line in your life. I know Hongjoong is your son and very capable of running the kingdom, but I still stand by the fact that he’s…”

The King sent his brother an amused look. “You thought the same about me when I was about to ascend the throne. I didn’t do a bad job, and I’m sure Hongjoong won’t either. He will feel very wronged if I pass the throne to you, and you know that. The crown is rightfully his.”

“Think about the people,” the Prince whispered and then cast a wary glance at you but you pretended you really could hear nothing except the scratching of the pen as you noted tonight’s readings. It was too bad that you were done and couldn’t continue to listen to their conversation anymore. With a bow to the two and a reminder to the King to take his morning walk, you left the room. You didn’t notice the Crown Prince around though you shared a wave with his aide. 

To your surprise- or you supposed you should have gotten used to the sight now- the Prince was lying on his stomach on your bed, reading the same comic book that he had been reading in the public library that day with Mingi. You, for some reason you were still wondering about, had one of your acquaintances in the castle purchase those books and anything related to it when they went to town. You kept these books in your room- it wouldn’t be appropriate if the Crown Prince was caught slacking because he stayed up all night laughing over some silly dialogue in those books.

“While you’re here reading about some fourteen year olds fighting over a girl, your uncle is trying to coax the King into passing the throne to him.”

“Nothing new,” Hongjoong muttered, not looking away from the book. “I’ll be having a meeting with him before the ball. What we’ll do next depends on his answer.”

You settled your bag on the chair and went to the vanity to take off your necklace and rings. “Are you going to ask him?”

“No point beating around the bush, but it will be in the presence of my father and others,” Hongjoong looked up momentarily, meeting your eyes through the reflection in the mirror. “If he admits he wants to get crowned, I’ll have to prove that he’s not fit for it.”

“How?” You turned to look at him.

“How do you think?” He asked, “I’m curious to learn how you would handle this.”

“You’re thinking of bringing up the Neverland Accords, aren’t you?” You asked and he nodded, not surprised that you figured it out. “That’s the one thing the Duke regrets doing. The one blemish on his career.”

“It destabilised the western region. By giving in to the demands of the refugees, he gave birth to a group of people with such hatred towards the monarchy that they became rebels. They left their families for the cause. I believe notorious rebel groups like the black pirates or bluebirds who were cooperating with my ancestors became restless because of this agreement.”

So he knew about the bluebirds- everyone who worked in the castle knew for security reasons, but he knew the history and the reasons. A few of them. And he believed that the Neverland Accords, which were about fifteen years old, might be why your rebel group was restless now. You wished you could tell him that it was much older and sinister than that. You wished you could tell him that the Master wasn’t just one person but a network of leaders over time.

And when you caught yourself thinking about this, you almost dropped the comb in your hand. Thankfully, the Prince was too busy reading his book while you tried to form an answer.

“Well… I suppose that might be true,” you managed to say. “I have something we can add to that.”

“And what might that be?”

You let your hair flow freely now, ruffling it a little before you walked towards the bed, the Prince’s hand inviting and prompting you to sit near him. You leaned in and told him your part of the plan in hushed whispers and he looked at you a few times to make sure this wasn’t a joke.

“I told you,” you held his chin in your hand, gaze stuck on his parted lips. “I told you I would kill for you. I came up with something even better instead. No one will suspect the royal physician, Prince.”

“Because you serve the King?”

“Because I serve humanity,” you said, the chuckle that suddenly left your mouth turning into a low laugh and Hongjoong frowned at that- while your plan was nothing short of a genius plan, a quiet voice in his head beckoned him to question how a royal physician- a doctor- was able to scheme like this. 

But for now, your hand casually resting against his thigh as you laughed was distracting. Your red, plump lips were distracting. The books you got him and the key to your room that you gave him were distracting him. The way you accepted who he was- the dark parts and even the sillier ones- that was distracting. 

Hongjoong started sharing that laugh, shaking his head at you. “Now I’m really hoping the Prince begs for the throne.”

“I won’t let anyone look at what’s yours,” you promised him, gladly letting him sit you on his lap, his book long forgotten by his side. “You can count on me.”

“Why are you doing this, y/n?” He wondered, his hands going under your dress to rest on your bare thighs. “What do you get out of this?”

“I told you-”

“Why are you really doing this?” He asked, an almost dangerous glint in his eyes. “Do you want me to crown you too?”

“No,” you sighed. “I couldn’t be less interested in the crown. I’m interested in what you’ll do for my career,” you lied, deciding to add a sprinkle of something honest in there when you said, “And if I can be with you like this without the crown or the heavy title, I’m content. But you must know that I’ve only had this change of heart recently.” 

“You could ask me to crown you and I might do just that,” Hongjoong offered, looking up at you with adoration but you could see that he was calculating behind that facade. 

“Ah, now you’re tempting me,” you smiled slyly. “Does the crown guarantee that you’ll look at me like this every night? That you’ll always fuck me like you actually mean it?”

“I do, though,” he admitted and your smile fell. 

You were aware that Hongjoong only cooperated with you because he obeyed what you told him- to use you as a tool. However… had he caught feelings along the way? Or was this just another of his grand schemes- to have you lower your guard? You were still half sure that he was going to get rid of you once he was crowned, but now he was offering you something that you thought about only in your wildest dreams.

If you grabbed on to this opportunity… if you could be the queen of Wonderland, you would have more power than the Master. You could make better decisions for the bluebirds. You wouldn’t even have to end the monarchy- you could have the Prince agree to your terms. You knew that the Prince wasn’t an unreasonable man and he would understand if you participated in politics actively if you became the queen and he, the king. He would listen to you and probably even give you better advice- he cared for the kingdom to prosper, as did the bluebirds, so…

Did you really have to kill him? You could just rule with him and use him to achieve the bluebirds’ agendas. You could accomplish so, so much-

“Cat got your tongue?” He teased and you shook your head, pushing down the train of thought for now.

“You’re offering a royal physician the burden of the crown. Of course I’m speechless,” you said. “But… heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

“The rubies would suit you, though,” he grinned and you laughed at that. 

“We’ll talk about this when you’re actually the King,” you told him. “For now, I’m content being where I am. I desire power, not the crown. The crown doesn’t necessarily guarantee power.”

“I think you’d make a nice queen, though,” Hongjoong rested his back against the bedpost, getting your hair away from your shoulders to plant sweet kisses along your collarbone. “Though I’d always be worried if you would poison me or use some drug to make me bend to your will.”

“You’re venomous enough as you are,” you scoffed. “All that bitterness inside you will kill you one day. Besides, I don’t need to use a drug to make you get on your knees. You’ve been doing that pretty often anyway.”

Hongjoong gave you a challenging look and you knew what was going to come next. Especially when his hand came to rest around your throat and he used that to get you off his lap and on the floor.

On your knees.

“Let’s change that now, shall we?”

You only smirked in answer, obeying, and while it was pleasurable enough to be on your knees for the future king, the thing he offered you only heightened your drive and made you sure-

That now, even if it was for one day, you wanted the Prince to rule.

And you wanted to be by his side this time.

—-----------------------------

There sure was something in the air tonight. 

Tonight, the Royal Ball took place in the honour of the Duke’s arrival to the castle in the form of a masquerade party. There were many honourable guests from Wonderland and a few from the neighbouring nations as well. The theme was ruby, which you thought was very ironic. You could see red everywhere- in the costumes, in the flowers that decorated the Hall, and in the wine that filled everyone’s glasses. 

The sound of violins and pianos was adorning the air with notes of excitement and vibrancy. The beat of the footsteps of the dancers in the middle of the hall melded along with the music, prompting the audience to synchronise with their claps or their heartbeats. Laughter and chatter flowed freely in the air along with the bubbles from the drinks the waiters and waitresses poured endlessly. The smell of something floral and musky overwhelmed your senses. It was a clash of perfumes, but if you stationed yourself near one of the windows or the tables with refreshment, the earthy smell of the air and the ever-familiar smell of food would wash over a wave of calm over you.

And you kind of needed that right now, because there sure was all of that in the air tonight, but there was also a wave of palpable calculation. Every look and every touch meant something tonight. Every word was said with caution. Every step someone took towards someone else meant something. And sure, this was just how royal events were, but tonight was special.

Tonight, there was an invisible web of deception and lies hovering above the Hall, waiting to trap its prey at the right moment. Though your prey was one- or two, if you were lucky- there could be more who would get caught by the spider. All you had to do was wait.

You watched the spider- the Crown Prince- looking absolutely ravishing in a deep red embellished coat over a black shirt and pants that matched the embroidery on the jacket. Most of his face was concealed by the extravagant black mask that he wore, the red feathers of it creating quite a contrast with his platinum hair that was styled away from his face. He might be unrecognisable at first glance but you could spot him anywhere. He always stood out to you.

Your eyes scanned the crowd again to find the tall Duke who had been attempting to mingle with anyone of importance throughout the whole night. That man was full of energy and the dark part in your heart wished to bathe him in eternal darkness as soon as possible. However, patience was the key. 

You had to keep reminding yourself that- that you had to be patient and that you couldn’t stray from your path no matter how tempting the road might seem. But you couldn’t deny the fact that being physical with Hongjoong and all his offers were making you incredibly selfish and greedy and clouding your judgement. You were confused, and you wished you could meet the Master or even one of the bluebirds to have yourself reminded of why you were doing this, but with each passing day, the final destination started appearing murkier.

For now, though, you just wanted this night to go smoothly. You got busy when some of the royal physicians from the Duke’s court found you, and your chat with them was quite interesting. However, you kept stealing glances at the Prince. He was now on the floor dancing with someone in an overly fluffy bright red dress and it left the sour taste of jealousy in your mouth. You decided to take a chance and joined hands with the first available partner on the dance floor who introduced himself as one of the Duke’s men. 

You rotated around the dance floor and switched partners twice before you found yourself in Hongjoong’s arms. The smirk he had on his lips made your knees feel weak.

“Couldn’t stay away from me, could you?” He asked, twirling you around once. “I could feel your eyes on me all night long, darling.”

“Can’t resist you,” you teased, bringing your hand closer to his neck than was necessary considering you were dancing. “You’ve been enjoying mingling too much without me.”

“Well, it’s a risky move but since everyone’s so busy dancing, you can get away with it,” Hongjoong told you, glancing at the upper section of the Hall where the King sat with a few of his friends. “However… I can’t wait to take this pretty dress off. You have no idea how irresistible you look tonight, love.”

You smiled at that- you had made a little more effort dressing up tonight than usual. The black silk dress might be plain but it hugged your curves in just the right way. There was a slit in the leg and you were wearing maroon heels, one of them with a matching ribbon that was tied up and around your leg in an intricate pattern, the bow situated right below the slit of the dress. You wore a red mask that covered half your face and extended towards your other eye as well. 

“You look quite charming too,” you said. “Red really is your colour.”

“Red looks like your colour,” the Prince said, pointing his eyes in the direction of the red ruby earrings you were wearing- a gift from the Prince himself for tonight. “I told you- the rubies suit you.”

Before you could respond to that, he squeezed your waist before rotating to switch partners once again, and you were left with those words playing in your head for the rest of the night- but you didn’t have to wait long. As soon as the dances ended and everyone started drinking or leaving for the night, you caught the Prince nodding at you before exiting the Hall and you started following him through the very empty corridors, making sure no one would catch you together.

You saw him go inside one of the abandoned rooms you had used in your early days to meet up and when you went inside and shut the door, Hongjoong was on you in a moment, cupping your masked face and kissing the exposed part of your lips which had to be a struggle because when he drew back, he had your red lipstick smeared across his own lips.

And the sight of that made you physically weak but Hongjoong was quick to hold you with a laugh.

“Already on your knees for me?” He commented and you smacked his chest, taking off your mask and his so you could finally kiss him properly. You broke apart for air and rested your head on his shoulder.

“It’s been a while.”

It had been about five days. The first three days got you anxious enough to want to contact his aide to see if the Prince really was busy or just avoiding you, but then he had the rubies delivered to your room. You wore them that night and looked at your reflection for the longest time, wondering how you would look in a matching crown.

“Yeah, it has been,” Hongjoong said, sweetly kissing your temple and then lifting your face by your chin to kiss you again, his tongue sliding in at the first opportunity. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he pushed you against the door, his hand going to grab your thigh and bringing it up so he could press himself to you, lazily playing with the ribbon wound around it.

You broke apart for air, brushing your noses teasingly. “Missed me?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, “I have quite a few updates.”

“And so have I,” you grinned. “You first?”

“Well,” Hongjoong began, his hand on your thigh travelling to the inner side, drawing your panties away to slide his fingers along your wet folds. “The meeting was a success for me. Prince Woobin admitted he would like my crown, and my court was not happy with it. I brought up the Neverland Accords and that made him lose his temper. Good thing the King witnessed that.”

“Ah, that’s good,” you said, which came out more as a moan when he slipped a digit inside you, rubbing your clit in slow strokes with his thumb. “Is that why he’s been trying so hard to get in everyone’s good graces tonight?”

Hongjoong took a moment to respond, too busy trailing kisses down your neck and along your shoulders, drawing the straps of the half-sleeve dress away. “Surely. He has no idea what’s coming for him.”

“About that,” you rocked your hips against his hand when he inserted another finger inside, resting your head back against the door. “The King mentioned something about his father’s illness being similar to his own. I took the opportunity to tell him about ruby.”

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong paused and you gave him a warning look, prompting him to continue thrusting his fingers inside you.

“I mean,” you breathed, curling into his body when you could feel the familiar buildup of an orgasm. “I tricked him. I told him that I was instructed to use an opium compound by the Duke’s royal physicians- which is true, by the way, I discussed the medical side of it with him in the earlier days- ah.”

Hongjoong smirked when you squeezed your eyes shut as he slowed his pace. He was playing with you and it always drove you mad and he loved seeing you in that state.

“So I told him that I was suspicious about ruby and requested the Prince- you- to let me access the private library so I could check if this was the right drug to use. And then I- Hongjoong!”

You moaned loudly when he pressed your clit, the orgasm crashing over you suddenly and with a force that had you gripping at him for dear life. Hongjoong helped you recover from it, rubbing your clit in slow circles and caressing your cheek as you shuddered before he picked you up in his arms and brought you to the couch, looking up at you.

“Say that again.”

“What?”

“Say my name,” he commanded and you brought your face next to his to whisper his name in his ear. He groaned at that, making quick work of unfastening his belt and you barely had time- and the strength- to take off your panties before he had you sit on his hard cock, easily sliding in.

“Now talk.”

You gave him a look, your walls clenching around him at the way he ordered you and he scoffed. “Uh… where was I?”

“Library.”

“Right,” you tried moving but he gripped your hips, making you sit still and you gave up. “So I told him that I found something suspicious in the library which is making me suspect that Prince Woobin had a hand in the late King’s death. Because it was Prince Woobin’s royal physician who was aware of this opium compound, who also happens to be the mentee of the Late King’s dead doctor.”

“Ah…” Hongjoong nodded. “So my father knows that I’m aware of this?”

“I told him that I’ve addressed my suspicions to you and you’re investigating the matter.”

“So when I finally tell him that I’m suspecting the Duke-”

“He will believe you because he’s already heard from me, and I’m his doctor,” you grinned. “I can’t be lying to him about this- and I’ve been lowering his dose slowly anyway so he thinks that I’m trying to get him off this medication without adverse effects.”

“And why are you lowering it? I thought you were going to kill him with ruby?”

“I found a better alternative,” you smirked. “One that would make it look more natural than ruby. And do you know what I call it?”

“What?”

“Silver Light,” you kissed the top of his head. “Like the colour of your hair.”

Hongjoong laughed at that, shaking his head and gladly meeting your lips in a kiss that quickly got heated and prompted him to thrust his cock inside you deeply and you quickly returned the sentiment, bouncing on top of him and matching his energy.

“You’re insane,” he told you, sucking at your bottom lip. “With this, the Duke will finally be out of my way.”

“What about the Duke of Mist- Prince Woojin?” You asked, tugging at his hair which always turned him on.

“An accomplice, maybe,” Hongjoong breathed and you knew he was close. “He’ll be exiled but only after he watches his brother get executed.”

“How fun,” you licked a spot on his neck before kissing there. “Calls for a feast.”

“Oh, I’ll have one right here,” Hongjoong looked down at your joined cores, rolling his hips along yours. “Say my name, princess.”

You were so close. You joined your foreheads as he took control of the pace and you called his name in soft whispers again and again until he was spilling inside you, until his warmth covered you and made you become undone in his arms once again.

And when the two of you laughed maniacally, you decided it.

You were not going to give him up. Not like this- not like the Master wanted you to.

You would take your sweet time. You would have him satisfy your desire like this for as long as he was under your control. You would have him fill you up, have him mark your skin just like he was doing now, have him call you princess, or queen, or whatever the fuck he wanted to. You would wear the ruby crown he loved so much. You would sit on his lap while he sat on the throne.

You only hoped the tugging at your heart was for the desire for all of that instead of the desire to be looked at with love.

—--------------------------------

The past week had been nothing short of eventful and chaotic, to put it simply.

With the King suspecting his brother which bled in his interactions, making the Duke wonder if the King had made up his mind to crown his son, he started trying to reason with the King. His method was the same as Hongjoong’s- to dig up dirt on the Prince and tell the King of his shortcomings. However, the Duke was not aware that he was being suspected of treason, and there was no bigger sin than treason for the King. How could a son kill his own father? 

The King found himself thinking about the reason a lot. He mentioned it when you slipped verita into his drug. He asked you if it was common for a child to kill his parents.

“Unheard of,” you told him. “Depends on the circumstances, I guess. When you have power, you’ll be targeted by anyone and everyone- it wouldn’t matter if they’re blood relations.”

“Sometimes I wish I was a farmer,” the King laughed in disappointment. “I could have lived a good life.”

“They have their own set of troubles,” you told him. “They worry about how to feed their wife and kids. They worry about having too many mouths to feed but then find themselves with even more. And then they do worse things than kill their children and live with the guilt.”

“What’s worse than death?”

“I guess you’ll know soon,” you shrugged and he passed you a side-eye. “If your brother really had a hand in your father’s death… whatever you do next would make you think back to this moment.”

The grief the King felt was clear, and it became even worse when Hongjoong, as per his father’s request, finally concluded the investigation and found the Duke of Neverland, Prince Woobin, guilty of the late King’s murder with the Duke of Mist, Prince Woojin, a suspected accomplice. 

Tonight, Prince Woobin was going to get hanged in the square within the castle walls. The kingdom was in an uproar with his supporters crowding the streets and making home outside the castle walls. Many believed he was being wronged because apart from the Neverland Accords, his career had been pretty remarkable. If you were objective, he was probably fit to run this kingdom too. Prince Hongjoong might be a skilled leader but he still lacked a few important qualities that the people wanted in their future king, such as empathy. You weren’t one to say though, when you had orchestrated this whole plan.

The Duke of Mist Island, Prince Woojin, was choosing to remain silent. It was probably because if he spoke in the favour of Prince Woobin, the suspicions of him being an accomplice would sound true. While the kingdom was outraged, the current king and prince weren’t void of supporters. By choosing to remain silent, he would only get exiled until proven guilty or innocent. He had to think of himself.

One thing was clear to everyone, though. The monarchy was falling apart and it was causing a palpable sense of restlessness. The King’s health was declining at a rapid rate now and his heart was weaker- it was grief that was doing your job for you. Prince Hongjoong was trying his best to keep things calm and so far, he had it under control. It looked like he would soon earn the favour of the majority with his uncles out of the picture. The people had no other choice.

You were stationed at the King’s side, next to his retired aide- an old man who came to be with the King at this difficult moment. You needed to be here in case the King suddenly felt unwell- after all, he was going to witness his little brother get executed.

Hongjoong was seated on the other side and every time that he glanced at the King to make sure if he was alright, he would meet your eyes. You exchanged no signals, though. Tonight, you had hundreds of eyes trained on you. If anyone caught you sharing eye contact, they would simply think the Prince was worried about his father and was making sure that the doctor was alert. If he was doing this consciously, you had to commend his acting.

Prince Woobin’s face was covered with a black cloth as he entered the square, being walked by the guards who held his chained arms. You looked across the square to find his royal physician whose licence was revoked for medical negligence on the basis that he was aware of ruby’s effects- and possibly, how it was used for the murder of the late King. The fact that he had done nothing about it and encouraged you to use it instead made his position worse. You talked to the King and told him that revoking his licence was enough since nobody could have guessed that ruby was dangerous without referring to the royal archives in the private library. 

The guards made Prince Woobin kneel in front of the King, though a level and quite a distance separated the brothers. His mask was taken off, revealing the Duke in a ghastly state. His eyes were sunken though they harboured pure hatred for the people who were wrongly blaming him. The fire burning from the torch illuminated one side of his face, casting deep shadows on the other.

“Your Majesty!” Prince Woobin’s voice boomed through the area, earning startled gasps from the crowd. “Brother dear! I urge you to reconsider and reinvestigate.”

The King sighed deeply. “All the evidence points to you. You plotted to kill me the same way you killed my father.”

“He was my father too, and I would never do that. I may have been after the crown since long ago, but it was never my intention to get my hands bloody along the way. I’m not like this, and you know that.”

“Do I?” The King asked himself, ignoring his brother’s plea of innocence. 

Hongjoong got up this time and his uncle looked at him with such distaste in his eyes that you almost got worried. “Your services to the Kingdom of Wonderland are appreciated. However, you are guilty of treason and murder of the late King, an unforgivable act. We must set an example, however much it pains us.”

Prince Woobin only scoffed in response and spat on the ground, causing the crowd to shift uncomfortably. Prince Hongjoong, however, remained unfazed. 

“Any last words?”

“Yes,” the Duke stood up, standing tall in front of everyone. “You will regret this. Tonight marks the beginning of the end.”

The King rested his head in his hands, overcome with emotions and you asked him if he was feeling alright, even though it was obvious that he was not. You looked at Hongjoong and he stood in front of his father, blocking his view.

“I- I can’t watch this,” the King wiped his eyes.

“It has to happen in your presence- you know the rules,” Prince Hongjoong rubbed his father’s back. “I’ll cover you.”

Prince Hongjoong signalled the executioners to begin and the crowd fell eerily silent as the Duke was led to the gallows. The air felt grim and the Duke’s footsteps were heavy. Though he looked pale when his gaze settled on the blade that was to decapitate his head, he settled on the lunette with a sense of resignation and finality. 

The executioner’s words went over your head. All you could see and hear was red. Red for lies, red for deception and red for death. The blade’s drop was swift and silent but whatever sound it made was masked by the fear and warning delivered as a message through this execution.

The King left immediately after and you followed after him, sharing one last look with Hongjoong whose head was held higher than ever. Perhaps, the burden of the crown was starting to feel lighter on his head. You wished you could kiss his head at that moment and tell him that it was going to get easier from here.

However, it looked like you did not need to. That night, when you went to find the Prince in one of the abandoned rooms, you found them empty. Wondering if he was in your room- or his own room- you started going back towards the residential area but the faint sound of music caught your attention. If it had been any other day, you would have ignored it but something prompted you to investigate.

In one of the storage rooms that held old musical instruments, the room that was once an active class, was the Crown Prince shaking his arms in the air like a maestro, playing an invisible instrument to the music blasting off the gramophone. You remained frozen in the doorway, watching him dance like a maniac to whatever was going on in his head. His movements quickened as the music reached the crescendo and they both crashed down in harmony with the Prince twirling and laughing loudly to himself.

Was he that happy? Was he this pleased now that he was sure that he would be ascending the throne? Strangely enough, the words of your Master started feeling substantial. He wasn’t wrong when he told you why the Crown Prince wasn’t fit for the crown, and you were only realising it now in its full weightage.

The Crown Prince was a madman, blinded by the desire for power and nothing else. He would do anything to have his way. He was celebrating being one step closer to the throne even though the path was marred by blood now. Did he really think you were his equal? Of course not, he was a royal. But did he think you were someone significant in his life now that things were shifting between you two, or had he taken your words too seriously? Were you still just a tool to him? And would he use you even if it meant he had to crown you?

You decided to leave him be for the night, going back to your room to send a message to the Master and make preparations for the final hurdle-

The King.

—--------------------------

If you were honest, you had imagined the Prince choking you far too many times. 

You imagined it would be a result of a spontaneous sequence of events- perhaps, while he kissed you and his hand went around your neck instead of cupping the side like he usually did, he would realise you might have a thing for getting choked. Maybe he would even hear you moan in response and look in your eyes to confirm if you liked it.

Or perhaps, it could be a consequence of a heated moment, such as him on top of you and thrusting relentlessly into you, recognising that you were inches away from an orgasm, and right when your body would arch and jerk as it crashed over you, he would squeeze the sides of your neck to heighten it further. You thought he would make you see stars or something even better.

However, being pinned to the wall by both his hands around your neck, his thumbs pressing your larynx threateningly and making you physically choke in pain was not it. His eyes bore into yours, dripping with venom and you tried smacking his hands away but it didn’t work.

“Did you do it?”

You stopped struggling for a moment, confused, before your features softened. Hongjoong watched with a frown but when he heard your raspy chuckle, he gave you a warning look but your laugh only got louder, making you cough because of his hold on your neck.

“You’re welcome… Your Majesty.”

It had been only a few days since the Duke’s execution. The King was having a hard time coming to terms with his brother’s blood on his hands. He may have bought your lies when you insisted that the Duke had a hand in the late King’s death, but he must have been suspecting tampering of evidence or something worse since he actually got out of his room and went to the private library to conduct his own investigation.

You had luckily lowered the ruby dosage to the minimum and the King was aware that you couldn’t have replaced it with something right away- it might have caused some side-effects. While the King did not suspect you, only commending you for caring about his health, his son received the scepticism in your stead. The King was beginning to feel more wary of Hongjoong and it was becoming obvious to everyone around them. It didn’t help that Hongjoong was doing absolutely nothing to help his case. 

You had successfully completed the first part of your mission, but there was no word from the Master. Had bluebirds abandoned you? All you needed was a signal to proceed with the rest of the plan. Could it be that they somehow peeked inside your heart and discovered the true motives behind why you were cooperating with them? 

You were anxious, and that was not good. It didn’t help that the Prince was incredibly busy now that Prince Woobin’s post as the Duke of Neverland was empty. The Duke of Mist had just negotiated for his life and the King had stopped Hongjoong from taking any further steps related to that matter for the time being. It was getting messier and you were realising that the Prince’s besetting sin might be his emotions and unquenchable thirst for more. While he was fully capable of making rational decisions and was doing his best to appear innocent, he could not hide how much fun he was having handling the matters that were once handled by the late Duke.

And the King may be old and ill, but he was not blind. He suspected Hongjoong, and while he was not stupid, he was too trusting of those around him and that led him to ask you what you thought about the situation. You were thrown off by the question.

“I feel like I’ve made a mistake. It’s weighing on my heart and it will take my life sooner than expected.”

“But why do you feel so?” You asked. “I know that the registers were not substantial evidence but the circumstances…”

“I know,” he nodded. “It seems odd that the royal physician was aware of ruby’s role in my father’s death yet remained shut. I wonder why. Could he have a hand in wrongly accusing Woobin?”

It was then that you realised- Prince Woobin’s physician might have been a member of the bluebirds too. That made more sense than the doctor knowing ruby’s effects and letting them slide when you consulted him for the King- no doctor’s moral code would allow that. 

“But if you think Prince Woobin was innocent and the doctor acted on his own, that would mean he’s serving someone else.”

“Yeah, well,” the King shrugged. “Wouldn’t put past my son to have a hand in it. He’s been far too giddy ever since he got that thorn out of his side.”

You stifled a smile at that. “Isn’t he simply carrying out his duties?”

“Yes, that’s true. But he doesn’t have to look happy about it, does he? Even if I’m wrong and he’s simply doing his job…” the King faltered, coughing violently and you passed him a handkerchief. He wiped his mouth, smearing the piece of cloth with blood. “I can only imagine how happy he will be when I finally die.”

“He’s still your son,” you chided gently. “You’re his father. You can confront him about this if it’s bothering you so much, Your Majesty. This is clearly taking a toll on your health- I should look for other drugs-”

“No,” the King shook his head. “No more drugs. That’s enough. My time is near and I should not run away.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you pleaded. “But you don’t have to be in pain as you walk towards your inevitable death. Painkillers?”

The King chuckled at that. “You’re a brilliant doctor, y/n. I hope Hongjoong takes good care of you after I’m gone.”

Somehow, that sentence stuck with you for all the reasons and more. The King was the one person who had treated you like an actual human despite his position of power and authority. You had always found yourself comparing him to the Master- another person with power and authority yet no regard for his subjects. While the King had always patted your shoulder with affection, the Master had only ever touched you with a stick- the marks of which you still bore on your skin. While the King always encouraged you to make leaps in the medicinal field and use him as your ‘test subject’ which was an inside joke amongst all the doctors in the castle now, the Master had only ever criticised you.

Would it be so bad if you let the King live? Or were you doing him a favour by killing him? He would die a painless death and wouldn’t witness the doom of his empire. One death had already cost him a great deal- he surely couldn’t take more. Hongjoong wanted him to live a little longer and hand him the crown with his own hands before he passed on, but no matter how much you tried to convince Hongjoong that the King couldn’t live long, his pride wouldn’t let him admit that the King would never willingly crown him. It was why he urged you to look after him as best as you could and why he was so enthusiastic with his work lately. He had something to prove now.

And it was why, ultimately, you decided to let the King rest. He did not need to dig any deeper and find out that his own son and his royal physician had orchestrated this plan. He did not need to be in agony anymore. You slipped the silver light in his medicine and he took it unsuspectingly. You squeezed his wrist in silent gratitude for all he had done for you- from his heart. And then you went to your room and waited to hear the news.

It was too bad that the Prince himself had to be the one who delivered the news to you- 

“Did you do it?”

“You’re welcome… Your Majesty,” you said, finally getting him to let go of your neck. You glared at him as you rubbed your neck in an attempt to soothe the burning sensation. “Didn’t think you’d be so ecstatic to hear that.”

Hongjoong stared at you, for the first time feeling something resembling fear in his heart- the future looked uncertain and for once, the look in your eyes made him shiver. Hongjoong was realising how perhaps he, too, was at your mercy. You wanted him to take over the throne so you sped up the process for him, getting rid of his uncles and now his father. All for what? For the throne that was his anyway? And you didn’t even want to be queen until he suggested it- just why-

“The King died of ‘grief’, but really, it’s the silver light’s doing,” you told him, taking a few steps to close the distance between you two, placing a hand on his shoulder, your eyes scanning his face. “It’s too bad he couldn’t crown you with his own hands, but that’s okay. All that matters is that he’s gone and he didn’t discover the truth about your role in Prince Woobin’s death. We did it, Hongjoong. You did it.”

He did it. He trusted the wrong person and messed everything up. Sure, the fact that he was now the King made him ecstatic, but there was still something that bothered him-

And that was you.

You were unpredictable and dangerous. And he couldn’t have someone like that by his side in the long run. He could not continue dallying with you anymore.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” you urged him, planting soft kisses around his mouth and on the tip of his nose. “You don’t think I did something wrong, do you?”

“Of course not,” Hongjoong kissed your lips. “I just wanted to make sure if it really was you. Did I scare you?”

You shook your head despite the air being heavy with lies. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Hongjoong scoffed at that, looking down as he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief and pretending that your words did not feel like a stab in his back. “I’m just a little bummed that you didn’t tell me.”

“It was a… spur-of-the-moment decision,” you ran your hands across the silky material of his cream shirt. “But all’s well that ends well, isn’t that so?”

Hongjoong nodded. “They’ve taken him away- the funeral will be the day after tomorrow so Prince Woojin can attend.”

“Ah, he’s still here, huh?” You clicked your tongue. “Anything I can help with?”

“Oh, I’ve got that handled,” he assured you, caressing your cheek. “Now… can we stop talking and stop acting? Didn’t you say something about how you couldn’t wait until I got the title so you could say you fucked the King?”

You laughed at that, the two of you leaning in for a kiss that soon turned heated, resulting in discarded clothes on the floor. Hongjoong was rough with you tonight, feeling lightheaded with the weight of the new title on his head. It didn’t help that you kept teasing him, calling him the King or Your Majesty Hongjoong. Despite the gravity of the situation, it turned him on so damn much and he realised that he really was mad. But he couldn’t stop. 

He couldn’t stop until he fucked you hard, taking you from behind and making you become undone on his cock over and over again. He snaked his hand back on your neck as you reached your high, this time to crane your face towards him so he could see you. You locked eyes with him, his silver hair matted on his forehead and a sheen of sweat making his skin glisten. This time, he choked you the proper way right when you came.

You actually saw stars this time. You didn’t mind that he treated you like a ragdoll tonight, probably pouring all his frustrations, grief and anxiety into you. You didn’t mind that he used you like a tool, spanking you whenever you so much as looked at him the wrong way and making you rock on his hips or fingers even though you were an oversensitive bundle of nerves. 

For tonight, you were his and he was yours. You had him wrapped around your fingers and even though he was the one who wielded power and dominance over you, it was ultimately you who moved his strings and controlled his actions. You could only wish that he would remain ignorant for as long as possible. After all, it would be too much of a shame if you couldn’t be like this for just a while.

Hongjoong stopped thrusting his cum inside you, resting his forehead against your bare shoulder and catching his breath, sliding out moments later and watching the leaking cum out of you with an amused look. You smacked his arm and he scooted away so you could bundle the sheets around yourself as you lay next to him, tangling your limbs.

“This is it,” you whispered, kissing his chest. “This is where you’re meant to be.”

Hongjoong kissed the top of your head in answer and you thought his touch felt distant and cold but your mind was too hazy to make sense of it.

For now, you were in the King’s arms. And you were already planning how to make it an everyday ritual.

—------------------------------

Today, the Master’s big plan for the Kingdom of Wonderland was finally going to come to an epic conclusion- Prince Hongjoong was going to get crowned king and he was finally going to ascend the throne. Granted, the path had been rocky and bloody but he finally made it. 

You would be his royal physician now, and no one else’s. And oh, the sight of the empty seat next to his that was once the queen’s was bubbling desire in you for something that was not- or should not be- yours. You were just a piece in the Master’s plan and you becoming the queen was not a part of his scheme.

But you were tired of obeying the faceless Master when there was no guarantee that you would live to see the next day- or even the next moment. The bluebirds were everywhere. They could end you just as easily as you had ended the King. They were cooks, soldiers, doctors, guards and assassins. They sat at every post in the castle and you wouldn’t be surprised if the Master was prowling somewhere around here- especially today. He had to be present to see the scheme of his forefathers about to conclude. 

And you were wondering if it would be too bad if you made some alterations to the Master’s plan. If he had one of the bluebirds sit on the throne, he wouldn’t need to end the monarchy to have the kingdom flourish, would he? He could just have them manipulate the royals and make a puppet out of Hongjoong. And it wouldn’t be too bad if you were the one who sat on the throne, right?

“We should do something about the queen’s empty throne, huh?” 

You almost jumped at the sudden intrusion, looking behind to see Hongjoong’s aide, Mingi, walking towards you to stand beside you. The Hall wasn’t empty but the workers had been silently making arrangements and you had just stopped on your way to your room to get a look at how the preparations were going. 

Mingi was dressed in his official uniform, a number of badges and emblems on the ruby red coat. He smiled at you, continuing. “You’re thinking the King would need someone by his side, aren’t you?”

“I was just reminiscing,” you lied smoothly. “It seems like just yesterday that the late King and Queen sat here proudly and the Hall was full of life.”

“Ah,” Mingi nodded in understanding. “It’s been… a bit sad afterwards, hasn’t it? The King… the grief really clung to him.”

“I sometimes wonder if there’s no cure for grief,” you sighed. “If the loss of his wife wasn’t enough-”

“His brothers,” Mingi nodded. “It’s truly a shame. Prince Woojin has arrived for the coronation but he isn’t too pleased to be here.”

“He’s going to get exiled from his homeland, so I can understand why,” you said and he agreed. The two of you looked at the empty seats for a while before you said you had to get ready for the event and you parted ways. You went to your room to change into a ruby red gown, wearing the earrings Hongjoong had gifted you and tying your hair back. And right after, you went to sit by the window to take a breather.

The sky was clear today, and you wished Hongjoong’s intentions would be too. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was amiss from the night that he pounced on you, suspecting that you killed the King. Yes, you had without letting him know beforehand, but he knew this was inevitable. And you had done him a favour because the King was almost on to him, but Hongjoong just had to be an ungrateful fool. It truly was a shame.

A knock sounded on the door and you opened it to reveal one of Hongjoong’s guards, asking you to accompany him to the royal chambers. You got worried for a moment, wondering if there was a medical emergency but the guard assured you that the Crown Prince just needed to talk to you about something so you followed without the medical kit. Mingi let you in and left, saying he had some matters to attend to. You looked around, finding the chambers awfully empty now that the King was gone and none of his staff was present. You knocked on Hongjoong’s room and he hummed in answer so you let yourself in.

“I see you’re already struggling with the burden of being the King,” you commented, watching him struggle with the robe unceremoniously. “Where’re your maids?”

“I don’t like being dressed by them,” he muttered. “Help me?”

You softly chuckled, standing in front of him between the mirror to fasten the clips to his jacket and then you straightened his clothes. “You only like my hands on you, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” Hongjoong smirked, watching you with a fondness that made you question if you had been wrong to suspect him. “I just wanted to see you before the coronation.”

“Someone’s finally feeling emotional, huh?” You teased and he laughed at that, resting his hands on your hips. “How does it feel to finally be the King of Wonderland, Your Majesty?”

“It hasn’t happened yet,” he raised a brow but you tsk-ed.

“That’s just formality, the event. You are the King. And I’m glad to be here with you right now,” you told him- you really were happy for him, from the bottom of your heart. “All those library sessions finally earned us the crown.”

Hongjoong nodded, not commenting on how you used the term ‘us’. As if the crown belonged to you too. He supposed you had the right to feel like that after being his sword and his shield. 

“Can you come see me after the coronation, in the music room?” Hongjoong asked, gently cupping your face with one hand. “I’d like to give you something.”

“Really?” You asked, searching his eyes for an answer but finding nothing. You felt your heart thump with excitement at the prospect of what this could entail. The silly voice in your head told you that maybe he really was going to crown you or at least make a promise.

“Okay,” you nodded, kissing his palm. “I’ll be there.”

Hongjoong smiled at that and leaned in to kiss you, deep and passionate like none of the kisses you had ever received from him before. Your back arched as you wrapped your arms around his neck and melted into the kiss, his arm around your back bringing you closer. You kissed for a long time before he broke apart and you laughed a little, telling him that you should be going to mark your attendance at the Hall. Hongjoong let you go with a final kiss to the top of your head, promising to see you later.

You had to admit that you were confused by the sudden change in his behaviour, but maybe he had been a bit cold towards you for the past couple of days because of the stress. The Prince had always been a moody man but that didn’t mean that you weren’t hyper-aware of everything he said to you or the way he acted towards you ever since you got rid of the King. If there was one thing you had realised the past few months, it was that you were on your own. The Master wasn’t going to take care of you or protect you if you messed up. The Prince would always protect his crown first before and he would gladly frame you if he ever felt threatened. You were aware of that, and as much as you desired the Crown Prince, his power, and perhaps, the seat next to his, you weren’t going to be unprepared.

When you went to the Hall, you were greeted by many. You had been the King’s royal physician and his confidante of sorts, especially after his aide retired. Tonight, you were going to honour him by lighting the torch that marked the King’s absence before the coronation would begin. The late Queen’s torch would be lit by Prince Woojin, the Duke of Mist Island.

There was a murmur spreading throughout the Hall as Prince Woojin entered, clad not in the official red but black- for mourning. He hadn’t been staying at the castle ever since he arrived for the Duke’s execution and just when he was about to leave the Capital, he heard the news of the King and came to attend the funeral, extending his stay a few more days as per Hongjoong’s request. He joined you at the front row, a few empty seats away from you but you got up and greeted him, just like you would have greeted the late King.

“Have you been well?” Prince Woojin asked. “I heard that you were quite close to my brother.”

You sighed deeply. “I’m alright, thank you for asking. I hope you’ve been well too.”

Prince Woojin shrugged in answer. As the youngest of the three, he was quite the oddball of the family, lacking any desire for the throne since the beginning and keeping to governing the northern region of Wonderland where the islands were located, collectively referred to as the Mist Islands. Unlike the other Duke, he never argued about the policies either, only following the late King’s orders. You supposed there were people in this world who weren’t born with the innate desire for power after all. Prince Woojin was a living example of that.

“Do you think I should start packing up after the coronation?” Prince Woojin asked, surprising you. “I’ve heard rumours that I’m going to be exiled. As if living on Mist Islands isn’t an exile itself.” 

You frowned- you weren’t surprised that he had heard that, but why did he ask you? Was this just small talk or was he on to something? “Did you never want to rule the islands, Your Highness?”

“It’s not that,” he chuckled. “But it’s quite a trip from here, isn’t it? I just wish I had seen my brother more often when he was alive.”

“Well… Prince Woobin did,” you shrugged, and Prince Woojin heard the rest of the sentence even though you didn’t say it out loud. Look where that got him.

“For a long time, I’ve thought that whoever sets their eyes on the throne is doomed,” Prince Woojin said and you listened to his words carefully. “For a while now, the position has birthed tragic endings. Woobin’s death has only strengthened my belief. Even if I was offered the position, I wouldn’t take it.”

You made an impressed face, nodding at the man who looked older than his brothers despite being in his late forties. “You’re very wise, Prince Woojin-”

“Do you covet the throne, my dear?” Prince Woojin looked at you and your mouth parted in surprise at his observation- or guess. Whatever it was. 

“I… don’t, really,” you admitted, looking towards the empty seats. “I guess I covet power and control. For at least once in my life, I would like to be free to make my own decisions and have no one influence my path.”

“Let me tell you something,” he leaned towards you, just as the doors opened revealing the Crown Prince. “You don’t need to sit there to have power or control over your life. That is a cage that looks like salvation, and once you take the crown, there’s no going back. You’re trapped until death. You’ll be controlled by forces you can’t even see. At least right now, you’ll have what? One? Two people influencing your life?”

You glanced at Hongjoong who narrowed his eyes when he saw the two of you conversing. Turning your attention to the Duke, you nodded. “You’re right. It really is a cage, isn’t it?”

Prince Woojin smiled, slumping back and nodding. He looked at where his nephew was, who was being marched towards the throne with Mingi by his side. You and Prince Woojin stood up and the rest followed. You went towards the torches in the middle of the room, standing in front of each other. One of the servants brought a candle to you and you lit the King’s torch first, locking eyes with Prince Woojin. He smiled at you, taking the candle from your hand before lighting the Queen’s torch. After the fire from them rose to a certain height, you both turned towards Hongjoong who was waiting for the signal at the end of the room. He bowed back and turned to receive the crown.

“The lone survivor,” Prince Woojin commented. “For how long, I wonder.”

Your heart sank at his words and you slowly turned to face him. It couldn’t be, could it? Prince Woojin only smiled knowingly at you and then applause sounded across the room, with a chorus of ‘Long Live His Majesty King Hongjoong!’ sounding across the room. While he looked magnificent in the crown, you were left pondering over the Duke’s question.

For how long?

When things got a bit busy, you made one last attempt to tie your fate to Hongjoong’s. You went to your room and wrote a letter, tucking it under the bed like you always did. And then you went to the music room to wait for the new king. You were starting to feel a sense of finality washing over you and to cope with what was surely coming, you started to press your fingers to the piano, the movements feeling foreign but strangely intimate- as if the notes meant to comfort you and pass you silent assurances.

You supposed that was the reason why, when the King finally entered the room with a guarded look on his face and two soldiers by his side, you weren’t surprised. You only scoffed in mock amusement, shaking your head.

“Doctor y/n, royal physician to the late King,” King Hongjoong announced. “You are under arrest for the murder of the late King.”

You let out a short laugh which soon turned maniacal and Hongjoong signalled the guards to give you both some privacy. They went to stand outside the room though the door was kept open.

“You’ll regret this, oh, you will,” you said when you finally got up, taking off the ruby earrings. “This will be the moment you will look back to soon.”

Hongjoong only smiled in answer. “You’re a threat to me as you were to the King. I can’t have you prowling around, you must understand.”

“Of course,” you walked to him and took his hand, slamming the earrings on his palm and curling his fingers over it. “The crown suits you, Hongjoong. Make the most of it while you can.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” He raised a brow. 

You smiled, leaning in to whisper something in his ear, making him freeze. You kissed his cheek before drawing away, getting one good look at all that glory, memorising the face of the person you had crowned, the eyes that had betrayed you long ago, the lips that had always served as a distraction to make you blind to what had been brewing in his mind all along, and then at his hands that had led you to your doom. Before he could stop you, you walked past him and surrendered yourselves to the soldier, mockingly bowing at him.

Even though you could taste your tears, your lips were curved in a smile. You may have doomed yourself but-

You would not be alone. 

You had tied your fate to Hongjoong’s long ago. Your paths had been intertwined since the beginning and would remain so.

You had heard from the Master once- that it takes a monster to destroy another monster. Perhaps, you took his words literally- you became a monster just so you could take another down. You did not regret one bit of it.

—--------------------------

You had watched many executions take place in the square. You had watched the recent execution of the Duke beside Hongjoong.

However, you did not imagine you would be watching the very empty throne from the square, on your knees with your hands tied in front of you- still with Hongjoong beside you, in a similar state.

“Quite a view from up here, isn’t it?” You commented. “Bet the Duke was too infuriated to admire it when it was his time.”

Hongjoong didn’t reply, looking at the rope that was wound around his hands and then back at the throne that he had sat on for barely a day. He clicked his tongue in anger when he spotted Prince Woojin. He didn’t sit on the throne but went to stand at the edge to watch.

This time, the square was empty save for the two of you. No one needed to witness this ugly conclusion, you supposed. It was just a few officials from the castle and-

Mingi. Watching you from the shadows and motioning with his finger towards the opposite direction-

At Prince Woojin. You frowned in confusion but then he crossed his heart and then his wrist, and understanding washed over you. 

Mingi was a bluebird, and so was Prince Woojin. You realised then that your doom had been inevitable. You were meant to die with Hongjoong from the very beginning. Mingi had made sure that happened, and Prince Woojin, who had to be one of the masterminds, had tricked you into planting the letter under your bed. The letter confirmed that Hongjoong had ordered you to kill the King and had fabricated the evidence to get the Duke executed for a crime he did not commit. That way, they had an official confession to get you both arrested and ready for trial. 

But… Prince Woojin had to be someone who worked closely with the Master who had trained you. The Master had to be present today- you looked around, finding some familiar faces but failing to recognise him.

“No one’s coming to save you, Princess,” Hongjoong scoffed and you raised a brow as you looked at him.

“Fuck you too, Hongjoong.” 

Hongjoong shook his head in amusement, looking at you with a strange expression- was that affection in his eyes? You frowned. “You don’t have to fake your feelings anymore. At least be true to me- to yourself- in your last moments.”

“No point wishing I could kill you with my own hands anymore when we’re both going to the same place,” Hongjoong said, his body shaking as he stifled a fit of laughter. You shook your head at that.

“Isn’t it funny?” You attempted to change the subject, wanting a distraction from the way your knees felt numb from kneeling for so long now. “We were doomed from the beginning, you and I. We were both pieces in a game that was being played by these people- the masterminds, from so long ago. Did they ever foresee this moment?”

“Pieces, you say?” Hongjoong asked, wondering who these masterminds were- had he lost the real game while he got high on what looked like a victory to him? “Were you a spy?”

“A bluebird,” you confessed with a short laugh as tears pricked the corner of your eyes. “They’re everywhere, Hongjoong. They’re watching us right now.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened as he took a look around, finding all the eyes present trained on him. All his life, he had felt like he did not truly belong in the castle but never once had he felt it with this magnitude. He felt like an imposter in his own home.

“So this was all a part of your plan?” Hongjoong asked. His words carried no bitterness or disdain. He simply wanted answers.

“It wasn’t,” you shook your head. “At least, not this,” you raised your tied hands in the air and looked at him. “I really wanted you to rule, Hongjoong. Even if it was just for a day.”

“Well, you got what you wanted-”

“That was what they wanted,” you continued. “I tried to find a way out of this, but you have to understand that I was trapped. By them. By you. I told you that I would make sure to undo everything and sit next to you when you got me arrested, but… the bluebirds got us. I didn’t think I’d sit next to you in the square.”

The rays of the sun were starting to peek from behind the arched roof of the elevation where Prince Woojin stood watching you both. You shut your eyes, letting the warmth of the sun seep into your skin. You were going to be cold for an eternity now.

“Feel that, Hongjoong?” You asked, unmoving. “Another thing we took for granted.”

“The sun?” 

“This warmth,” you looked at him, spotting the grim face of the executioners making their way from the other end of the square, the soldiers and court members taking their respective positions. “Did you ever take your time to feel it? Did you ever feel something similar?”

“I wasn’t always a cold, calculating bastard,” Hongjoong chuckled, glad you were talking to him right now. He somehow felt lighter. “I felt warmth in my mother’s arms.”

“I didn’t,” you told him and he looked at you but there was no pity in his eyes, only understanding. “I felt warmth when the King talked to me like I was his daughter.”

Hongjoong smiled at that, looking at his tied hands. The executioners paused when they saw that emotion on his King’s face, allowing just another moment. You looked back at Hongjoong, strands of silver hair covering his glazed eyes.

“Did you ever love me?” 

Hongjoong’s smile only deepened at that. “Did you?”

“Maybe I did,” you cocked your head, waiting for an answer.

“Maybe I did too,” he raised a brow. “We must have been lovers in our past life.”

“Or maybe we were enemies, and this was my twisted attempt at redemption,” you said and he chuckled. “Maybe we’ll actually do ourselves justice in the next life. If there is one.”

“Death won’t do us part,” he said and you finally let the tears fall even though your heart warmed at his words.

The executioners appeared in front of you, their swords gleaming and ready by their side. Hongjoong had personally requested execution by the sword instead of the guillotine though he never mentioned his reasons for this choice. He raised his tied hands in the air and the executioner looked towards Prince Woojin for confirmation. You narrowed your eyes at the Prince, wondering if he would take the throne or demolish the monarchical system but your thoughts got interrupted when you found your executioner untying the ropes around your hands as well. 

Confused, you looked at Hongjoong who extended his hand, prompting you to take it. You intertwined your fingers with his, squeezing them. He held your hand with considerable strength as if he meant to convey his fear for what was ahead but assure you that he was here, with you. 

“Death won’t do us part,” he promised and shut his eyes. 

You shut your eyes with a smile, thankful for his promise. Maybe in the next life, you would meet again under better circumstances, unburdened by lies and guilt, greed and lust. For the first time, you saw something other than red.

You saw silver- muted but warm, like Hongjoong’s hair. Bright and glaring like the colour of the drug, silver light, that doomed you. Distant and beautiful like the stars you saw at night while you rested in Hongjoong’s arms. Twinkling and intoxicating like the stars Hongjoong made you see when he made love to you.

You saw silver- glorious and absolute like the sword that painted you both red.

#this one is for all you villain joong enthusiasts #y'all can blame loren for the ending she pushed this agenda #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong angst #hongjoong smut #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez smut #kim hongjoong angst #kim hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong x reader #ateez au #ateez ff #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic

[ventique18]

Shop owner 🌸 and 🐉 who comes by everyday to get something without fail. The first time you met was uneventful; just one normal customer amongst the many-- if a huge guy dressed in expensive-looking tailored outfits was the norm. You called him "sir" the first couple of times, but after a few pleasant conversations and comfortable laughter, you began to affectionately greet him with a "Hello, stranger." He flushed at that and immediately introduced himself because he always forgot to do so before. You laughed and proposed that "stranger" be your exclusive nickname for him, to which he reluctantly agreed. He eventually grew to like it.

If you sell flowers, he'll rotate between bouquets and mention that they're for his grandmother. If you're a pharmacist, he'll pick up vitamins and maintenance meds daily. You ask why he just doesn't get a bottle once a month, so he'll share that his father's a bit forgetful so he personally hands it to him daily. It doesn't really answer why he needs to buy exactly one tablet each, once a day-- but you're not one to press people.

If you sell...rice, he's basically providing 90% of your income by picking up several kilos every day. You ask if he's running an orphanage with how much he needs, but he just laughs and spills that he has growing brothers and they both eat like hungry crocodiles.

Honestly, you quickly catch on that he just likes talking to you. You don't really see him around outside of his appearances to buy something, so it must take a bit of effort to travel from wherever he comes from. So one day you jokingly mention, "You should just move next to me if my wares are that integral to your life. God knows we need more neighbors here besides retired old ladies and their noisy grandkids ringing my doorbell for shits and giggles."

"I wish you would move into my house."

"Sorry, what was that? The neighbor's music is a bit loud."

He smiles a polite "nothing" before bidding you farewell for the day. A week passes by and he doesn't come again. You wonder if what you said was off-putting to him, but you settle with the more positive thought that he must have a lot going on in his private life. You find yourself hoping he'd pass by again so you could apologize if your joke offended him in any way. Odd as your relationship is, you do think of him as a friend.

So when one day you're walking home from having visited the groceries, your surprise is immeasurable as you stroll by Ms. Betsy's house. Because instead of the cranky auntie who liked to yell at kids and hiss at visiting stray cats, there now stands a guy. A huge guy with equally huge shears shaping the bushes around shrubs of roses that you swear Ms. Betsy never had. A guy that you know very well.

You do remember that the auntie used to like droning about how she'd sell that house and fly to a different country as soon as the opportunity arises, but...

"Hello, stranger..?" You greet with an equal amount of hesitation, confusion, and relief.

He turns. You swear your stomach exploded into a fit of butterflies when a mischievous smile plays on his lips.

"Why, hello... neighbor. You were not joking when you mentioned the children who enjoy ringing doorbells."

You laugh, "Did I mention shopkeepers who ring their neighbor's doorbells yet?"

"That," he replies as he begins sauntering back to his house, "I do not mind." When his hand reaches the door knob, he looks back to you with a grin, "Would you like a cup of tea? You can tell me more about this mysterious shopkeeper over a tray of honey biscuits."

#i played fields of mistria's demo and thought of this #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #ventique rambles #malleus x reader

[002yb]

Dick who keeps a picture of Robin Jason in his wallet, the corners weathered with age, his face smudged like a thumb has gently stroked over it over many years.

Over the years the coffee shop owner of his morning route has watched him pull out his wallet and stare at the plastic window for several seconds, a sad forlorn look on his face before taking out his change to give over.

Then one day he turns up with someone else by his side, rosy cheeked and a smile on his face. When he opens the wallet there’s a new picture, this one bearing a striking resemblance to the man next to him. With the wallet open the stranger sees what is inside and immediately his face blooms red, stutters falling out his mouth.

Dick laughs, a huge booming laugh and he looks the happiest he has ever been. The photo smiles back at him.

Everyone always goes on about Bruce keeping pictures of all his kids in his wallet, but fffffffffff Dick doing the same. ;/////; And it's something his siblings tease him about relentlessly because it's actually just one picture and that one photo happens to be Jason, hahaha. Just Jason assuming he's Dick's least favorite in the family while everyone else knows Jason is Dick's favorite.

Which is a headcanon neither here nor there because anoooooon!! This is such a gift, thank you! You write beautifully. (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) Dick's melancholy is so heartrending but touching and ahhhhhhh. This is just really sweet and made me smile. I love smitten/lovelorn!Dick!! Especially when the hurt ends with comfort and he's so brilliant and happy with Jason and ♡♡♡♡♡ !! Thank you for sharing this, anon~ //3///

Silly thoughts inspired by anon's post below the cut:

Where the day of the reveal (per above (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)), Dick and Jason are waiting in line at that coffee shop. And it's casual; lighthearted and comfortable as they banter and bump shoulders.

And Dick is fighting back amusement because Jason is adamant about treating him. Only the card he proudly pulls out is pretentiously black and has Timothy Drake embossed across it.

Despite Dick halfheartedly telling Jason 'no', Jason pleads his case. It's the perfect crime! The banks won't suspect it because the purchase will be small and ordinary. If the account isn't flagged, just imagine what else they could get up to. A paid honeymoon vacation, maybe. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Just Jason having zero faith in Tim checking his bank statements.

And Dick teasing Jason about how Tim at least has a bank account and a credit score to speak of.

Which Jason shoves Dick out of line for because wow, big bird. Jason has lines of credit everywhere. First and foremost: Tim.

'Not me?'

'It's based on net worth.' Jason would quip, which would earn him a shove this time and he'd cackle all the while.

Then Dick would get a call. From Tim. And it'd make them both snicker because the timing is perfect.

Dick taking the call outside, but not before handing off his wallet and telling Jason not to use Tim's card

Jason scoffs over it, but does as he's told (because he'll run this scam with Damian instead).

And it's as he's paying that he opens Dick's wallet and sees that photo. The old one which will be replaced with an updated one later. It's of them. Him.

It's from a lifetime ago. Worn and frayed at the edges in a way that tells of how often and carefully it's been handled. Jason swiping his thumb over it, mirroring all the times Dick would do the same. Jason would be able to tell. And his heart would ache and his breath would catch and--

When he looks out the window, wide eyed and with a pink stain warming his cheeks, Dick would already be looking at him. Just as wide eyed because he realizes he unintentionally exposed himself. It's a vulnerability that passes as quickly as it comes though because it's Jason.

Flustered as he is, Jason smiles. Sharp and brilliant. And he'd hold Dick's wallet up to flash the photo while pointing at it. Playing the menace although his cheeks are bright and flushed.

Even though Dick is on the other side of the window, Jason would still call, 'How embarrassing!’

And Dick can read lips. He laughs, incredulous as he shakes his head and calls back, 'We're dating!'

Jason loves to hear it.

But yeah, Jason cackling as he finishes up their order. Standing off to the side as they wait for their drinks and smiling the most biting of grins as he teases Dick for being a sap. Playing keep-away with his wallet.

Something something these two being in their own world. Crowded close as they flirt. Jason slipping Dick's wallet back into his pocket and being the most giddy/smiley boy because he's a romantic and Dick unwittingly romanced the fuck out of him.

Dick caressing his thumb over Jason's cheek and smiling this devastating grin because he doesn't need a photo anymore.

(இ﹏இ`｡)

And then their moment is interrupted by the barista calling out, 'Loverboy!' because that's the name Jason told them to put down.

Dick laughs that big laugh. Loud and beautiful and contagious. The sort of laugh that makes even strangers smile and that makes Jason's heart sing. ;//////;

Dick taking Jason's hand as they go up to get their order. Bringing Jason's hand to his lips to brush a kiss over Jason's knuckles. And Jason is so soft about it because he can feel Dick's smile through it; his breath as he fails to bite back his laughter.

Just Dick feeling like the luckiest man in the world and it showing.

Jason being overwhelmed by that because he's not sure anyone has ever felt grateful for him. He gets it though -- to feel so lucky.

#dickjay #jaydick #dorks in love

[itstheghostofmypast]

Winter of Woe

Idol Park Seonghwa x (F)Reader

Summary: Winter had always left him cold and bitter, sprint had always been his season, yet, when it became too much, his spring had decided to walk back into his life, on that cold, dark winter night

Genre: Angst/ Comfort (kinda open-ended?)

Warnings: None

Ratings: SFW

Word Count: 2.5K

Est.Read Time: 12 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Winter was never one of his favourite seasons, yet, it was one of the seasons that would help him numb out anything that dared to bother him. The nights would fall too early, and the sky would never be a shade of pastel so pretty, but a blanket of grey loomed over them, over him. The nights would be long, would be cold and eerily silent, quiet enough for the unspoken words of his to resurface, wrapping around his torso, slowly squeezing the life out of him- but the nights would be chilly, freezing and cold, enough to paralyse the words, mute them out by the chattering of his teeth, pricking his bones that were covered in flesh and supposedly warm wool.

The nights were welcoming enough to give him the solitude he needed after a tiring day, a tiring session of socialising, of smiling, pretending everything was as it was supposed to be, as it should have been- or so he had begun to tell himself more often than he would like to admit. Perhaps this started as soon as their break was announced, where all had chosen to retreat to their little dens, their homes, cosy and warm, yet, he had decided to stay behind, wanting to remain in isolation, away from his loved ones. Perhaps it was an act of redemption, of punishing himself, of constantly reminding himself of his past regrets, his mistakes, his anger, his repressed hatred towards himself, his-

"Hwa?" 

The faint voice of an angel rang through his ears like church bells, it had been a while since he had the honour of hearing the voice of his- no, not his, she was no longer his angel, he had made sure of that, perhaps that is why he felt so bitter towards this season, he had left her cold and shivering with the chill.

"Hey..." his whisper morphing into a puff, floating between the two as he stared down at her, drinking in her appearance, eyes roaming her face like a map learnt by heart, taking in her essence, her being.

"How have you been?" She smiled, pulling down her mask and moving a cup of coffee closer to him, "Here."

"I'm better..." he sighed, only to pause and stare at the coffee, eyes flickering back up to her, somewhat disturbed about how she was easily pretending as if nothing had happened, though he was conflicted, maybe this was better than her bringing up the past, but was she following him? Or perhaps this coffee was-

"Better is good, Hwa... oh the coffee- I got stood up.... shouldn’t have bought the coffee while waiting for him." She cleared her throat, before averting her gaze, arm still extended as she offered him the second cup. Honestly, she was already down in the dumps, rejections were never easy, break ups were even worse -she'd know- but being stood up was like you failed to pass a test, so unworthy that no one could even spare a glance at you, so if he were to reject the coffee right now, she probably would break down right in front of him.

"Thanks..." 

The brush of his cold fingertips sent a shiver down her spine, her eyes flickering up to meet his, staring up at him with some form of admiration, one that he did not believe he deserved- after all those years, he was still the same, the same coward who was too afraid to love her, the same hideous being who was unworthy of her, the same man who she had devoted all her love to, yet he had decided to let go of her hand when the times got a bit too rough.

"You've grown prettier." She sighed, a gentle smile gracing her features as she walked beside him, the crunch of the snow beneath their boots constantly reminding him to take the next step beside her. Her words hung between them, perhaps a dead weight, perhaps the deceased memories of them together- maybe she shouldn't have called him out. Maybe he wanted to spend time alone, maybe he didn't want to see her again, maybe-

"You should make him pay you back..." 

"Huh?" Turning to face him, cup in lap she blinked at his side profile, taking in his beauty, his grace, his masculine charm, as he sat there staring at the coffee in his hands, gripping onto it for his dear life. "What...do you mean?"

"You should...make him pay you back..." Taking another gulp of the warm beverage he sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the bench, wondering why she even bothered to call him out, especially when he was the one to pull away first.

“It's fine…not the first time I’ve been ghosted.”

His eyes shot open at that statement finally turning to meet her tender gaze, one that held no ounce of anger or resentment, but one with a swirling curiosity, and a twinge of woe, but it was enough for him to break eye contact, choosing not to continue, for any moment longer and his resolve may shatter-

“Why…did you do it?”

Her words were gentle, but the impact was worse than being stabbed, the way her hand rested on his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze, “I just…I just want to know…if I did something to upset you…you just disappeared.” She had moved a bit closer to him, it had been so long since she had even heard from him, sure, she had heard and seen the content of their group, but him, no- not in person, not like this. She was unsure of what had happened, what had she done for him to slip out of her life like that, for him to show up at her door in the middle of a winter night, much like this one, with swollen eyes and a stuttering tongue, uttering the three words she had never wished to hear, “Let’s break up.”

Truth be told, she had spent the whole night wondering about the possibilities that could have led to this unfortunate scenario, even asked Hongjoong if it was a decision made by the company, to which he had refused, saddened by the news, but he had told her this was a decision his friend had taken on his own. She had tried calling him a few times but he had texted her to not do so anymore, and if there was one thing she had learnt about her lover, it was that he was always very clear with what he wanted, and when he wanted- perhaps, he no longer wanted her?

She would’ve believed that, truly, but something at the back of her mind kept bothering her, perhaps she no longer wanted him back, but felt that she had the right to know what had led a long-term relationship to end poorly- closure, that is what she wanted, that is why she had called him out after years of seeing him, calling him out before she could even think of what to say next, calling him out after another date where she was stood up, calling him out before he could walk away again. This was probably why she sat here, basking in his presence, pleading with him to at least give her a simple liner that she could take as an explanation, “I…I just need to know…what it was, I promise…I’ll leave after…Hwa.”

“How could I love someone, when I couldn’t even love myself.”

The world around them had come to a standstill, silent as the calm sea, cold as the ice, as heavy as the heart of a widow, the two stared at each other; confused, conflicted, angry, upset and…in love. For the first time now, he had looked at her properly, had given her a proper reaction, and shown her the bits that he’d often hide, the bits that made him human, the bits that made him, her Hwa. From the way his bottom lip quivered to the way his eyes teared up at her, face contorting as if he were in pain- he was- and for some melancholic, sadistic reason, it made her frail heart flutter, her heart giggling in joy to see him like this, not in spite, no, never, but in the aspiration of there being traces of love with the empty confines of his heart, hidden in the cracks, asleep in patience and sorrow, waiting for the time it could spill out again.

“Hwa…” her words were soft, cupping his cheek, feeling the warmth of it buzzing against her cold palm, thumb caressing the skin, smearing the wet trail left behind by his tears, sighing as she moved closer, enough for them to be sharing body warm, her thigh pressing against his, coffee long forgotten as she cupped his face with both hands, tilting his face to admire him, “Why didn’t you say so…do you think I wouldn’t have given you space?”

“It’s…not about space.” He hissed, gently gripping her wrists to remove her hands from his face- what was he still fighting? At this point, he wasn’t sure, but he knew, he knew for a fact, that he was not going to let her forgive him so easily. As if he had not just tossed her aside when his own insecurities began to nip a bit too close to home when he knew that even though his own mind was against his being, the person he had given his heart to would carefully hold it in her palm, all warm and snug until he was ready to be let out to the world- no, he did not deserve this, he did not deserve her, “I…did not deserve you, your love…your admiration and sincerity, especially when I was unable to truly reciprocate it with the sincerity that yours held.”

She let him remove her hands, watching him closely, nodding to his words, words that once again hinted about how their ends perhaps may be split by fate, yet, she noticed how his grip on her had tightened, not wanting to let her go, ready to fight fate- maybe this was what he lacked the last time, the will to fight, perhaps because he had given up on himself as well, a dilemma so strong that her presence was merely a representation of the sun, and he, Icarus, knew that his wings could not take him up to her- but what if this time, she came to him? All she asked for in return was to be acknowledged, to be treated not like the holy sun, but the silent listener, the moon, the watcher, the companion on lonesome nights, ever so silent, ever so loyal, ever so loving.

“Do you still feel the same way-” she whispered, only for him to cut her off, letting go of her to furiously rub away any proof of his sorrows and regret, oh how it broke her to see him like this, so confused and in shambles.

“Of course! I don’t deserve you-”

“About yourself, Hwa…do you think you now love yourself enough to share that love with someone else, enough to let someone else love you?” gripping his wrists she pulled his hands away from his face, giving him a squeeze, enough to have him gulping at her, her gentle face, her determined eyes, her confident aura, having his throat parch up at the realization, one that he had buried in the crevices of his heart, burying it with everything he could find, every distraction, every wish, every whim- everything that could never measure up to her, the need of having her in life, the want of her near him. No one had asked him that before, no one had wondered if he now loved himself enough, thought of himself to be important enough to be even considered human, to be considered worthy enough of having his own choices, his own opinions, his own story- no one had asked him if he was his heart had begun to beat for himself, to not only keep him functioning but to keep him alive.

“I…think so…I hope so.” He whispered, unsure of where this was going, honestly, this was too much to take in one go anyway, with her popping up out of the blue, coming to him on a night so long, a night so cold, a night so much like the one on which he had left her broken and confused.  He watched her smile at him, staring up at her when she stood up, only he had remained rooted in place, blinking ever so slowly at her, as his guardian angel knelt closer to his sitting form, pressing her warm lips against his cheek, before whispering something to him.

 Slowly pulling away she gave him one last smile, caressing his buzzing, warm, soft cheek with her knuckles, making sure to leave him craving for more, wanting more, as he watched her walk away into the night. Watching her walk away into the cold of the night, with her, was her warmth and love, resonating from her being, melting any and everything around her into spring, much like the spring he had confessed to her in, the spring when he was a wee lad on the with one foot into the doorstep of stardom and another in her world, pulling her across with a loving, yet firm grip, making she stood strong on the same ground as he did- only, for him to lose his footing, in the process of which he had unknowingly let go of her hand, letting her slip through his fingers. And when she had reached down to pull him up from the pits of his own defeat and sorrows, he had pulled back, turning away to let it all envelope him in its numbing hold, rather than embracing her warmth and love- perhaps he was afraid her love may melt away the numbness, sprouting out everything that he lay within the frozen layer of his masculinity, or what he once assumed was the definition of masculinity. He watched her till she was out of sight, but not out of mind, she was far in being, but close and well seated within his heart- a new profound emotion coursing through his veins, with fireworks booming within his system as his whole being lit on fire, fingers gripping the paper cup with as tight as he wanted to hold her close to him, letting out a sigh of relief as he felt his mind run on overdrive, constantly repeating her words in his head, leaning back against the bench as he closed his eyes, smiling at the possibility that awaited, not the boy that was too afraid of his own demons to look past them to the angel that stood across, but the man who was ready to push past his demons to finally let his angel save him.

“Then…when you do…and if you do, find it in within you, to love me again, and you feel safe enough to let me…love you, I need you to know I’ll be waiting for you.”

A/N: I cant do angst with a sad endings. Im sorry

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie

@mlysalt @spooo00oky @the-kpop-simp

#cromernet #k labels #illusionnet #ateez #fluff #choi san #mingi #hongjoong #jongho #seonghwa #yeosang #yunho #ateez timestamps #ateez scenario #choi san fluff #ateez fluff #atz scenarios #atz imagines #song mingi #ateez fanfiction #ateez imagines #ateez x you #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #atz #atiny #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa #seonghwa ateez #seonghwa x you

[ninyard]

Hey, so you said to send you prompts... Could you talk about some things Neil starts to remember and how he copes with remembering?

Here’s the time where Neil remembers being waterboarded, because I haven’t stopped thinking about that. Like not even once. cw; torture, vomitting

-

It’s not long after the Foxes big championship win that Andrew and Neil find themselves in a too-big, too-fancy hotel room for the first time. Kevin is staying with them, but he’s busy doing something with Wymack for a couple hours.

They have no responsibilities, nothing to do other than enjoy a hotel room to themselves. They do what any other couple would reasonably do; they order a bottle of champagne, a couple of desserts, and they run a hot bath. Not for them both, in the beginning, but Neil’s muscles are sore after a tough practice with Kevin the night beforehand, so he decided to run it for himself. The water is perfect to touch, almost a perfect amount in the tub, and Andrew is sitting up on the bathroom counter with his own glass of champagne in his hands.

“This feels weird,” Neil comments, twisting the knob until the water ceases to spill from the gold coloured faucet of the bath. “Like it’s something couples do.”

“Normal couples,” Andrew corrects him, putting the glass to his lips as Neil removes his clothes one article at a time. “You’re cleaning yourself and I’m here for moral support.”

“From all the way over there?” Neil steps into the hot water. The steam from it has fogged up the mirrors already, and he slides down into the white porcelain, relaxing back until the hair at the back of his neck is darkened by the water that wets it.

“I’m comfortable.” Andrew says around the rim of the flute. “But if you’re not used to it I can show you how it’s done.”

“Why would I not be used to having a bath?” Neil scoffs, running his wet hands over his hair to slick it back off of his face.

“I can’t picture it,” he shrugs, but he doesn’t really mean it. “I don’t imagine you had many while on the run.”

Neil’s sweet laugh reverberates around the room. “You’re right, but it’s not like it’s hard. I lie here and relax until I get so warm that it feels like I’m going to pass out. Right?”

Neil shuts his eyes and sinks back until the water surrounds his face, his hearing muffled by its calming rumble. He holds his breath to dip his face under before coming back up to the surface. When he opens his eyes after wiping the water from them, he looks over as Andrew crouched next to him with a washcloth in one hand and Neil’s glass in the other. Neil takes the glass in a dripping hand, and looks at Andrew as he sips from the cold, bubbly liquid.

“Are you going to show me how it’s done?” He says, and Andrew waves him off. He slips out of his robe with ease, and gestures for Neil to move forward in the tub. There’s plenty of room for the both of them, and Andrew steps in to sit behind him, his legs on either side of Neil. Neil waits until he is comfortable before reaching out to place his glass on the floor, moving to rest his back on Andrew’s chest.

They don’t speak as Andrew dips the small square cloth into the water to brush it over the top of Neil’s back. Neil shuts his eyes. The only sound in the room is the movement of the water between them, and the relaxed breathing that leaves the both of their noses. Andrew’s free arm rests on the edge of the tub, and Neil reaches out to interlace their fingers together. It’s so calming, the warmth that surrounds them, the peace that comes with the two of them alone together like this, so normal and comfortable.

Andrew’s squeezes out the liquid from the cloth onto the top of Neil’s head, then, startling him from his thoughts.

“I was just about to say how nice this was,” he tilts his head to let the water run off of it. “Thank you for changing my mind.”

Andrew’s response is to mumble a sound that could’ve been misconstrued as an apology, until he dips the cloth back under the water, and does it again. Neil tried to take the cloth from him, and the tub squeaks as he moves around, but Andrew keeps pulling it out of his reach.

Andrew gives up when Neil gets a hold of it, accepting as the gesture is returned. Neil loves how his blonde hair darkens under water, and smiles as Andrew’s bangs flatten over his eyes. He’s not quite turned around to face Andrew, but he twists his back to push his hair back off of his face.

“Yes or no?” He asks, and Andrew opens his eyes. His cheeks are pink from the heat of the bath.

“Yes.” He answers, and Neil stretches out to kiss him softly on the lips, before plopping the sopping wet square of fabric on the top of his head. Neil is laughing as Andrew takes the cloth from his hair and throws it at him, flat against his face, but that beautiful and melodic sound does not last long. It does not last long, as Neil’s laugh leads him to inhale beneath the fabric, and his flinch is almost strong enough to send a tidal wave of water cascading out onto the tiled floor.

For a second, Neil is back in the nest.

For a second, the memory is hazy, something unfamiliar. It’s not a memory he’s had before, more like a dream than a conscious reminder of Evermore.

There’s Jean’s hands on his shoulders, or somewhere else, as they tended to be, holding him down with as more force as required to keep him still. Riko’s maniacal laughter scores the scene, as he takes a break from whatever words he’d been spewing to admire his work.

“What is it?” Riko says. No, it’s Andrew, in their hotel bathroom, with this look across his face.

The washcloth is in Neil’s hand, and he looks down to it, but he sees nothing as he lifts his head back up. He can feel it, though, the water-heavy fabric spread over his face, over his head, draped without a chance of falling off. He doesn’t scream, but he hears it, the gargle of a plea to stop, incoherent as he feels himself drowning.

He can see Andrew as he wraps his fingers around Neil’s wrists, to pull them away from the mouth that they’d found themselves clamped over. There’s too much water. Too much water that feels like it’s filling his lungs, and it’s around him, and it’s in his hair, it’s in his eyes. Even the hands that protect him are damp with liquid. With lungs unwilling to fill at all, he tries to kick the water away from him, but with every movement, it just comes back to him stronger.

“You’ll drown him,” A cry of English words dipped in a French accent passes in front of him. He can’t hear it properly at all. It’s too loud; the slapping of water on a surface, the sputtering as he desperately struggles out of the path of pouring. Jean’s strained words mean nothing to Riko, a worthless request that would only lead to a desire for Riko to fulfil such a thing. “The master will not be pleased if you do.”

Riko snaps back at him then, a bark in Japanese as the spilling water subsides. He lifts the towel, or the bedsheets, or the heavy item of clothing that covered his lips. One hand in auburn hair he holds Neil back. He remembers how he pulls his own hair from its root while trying to lean forward to get the water out of his lungs.

He is standing now, and Andrew has wrapped him in a dry bathrobe before dressing himself, and he is rubbing a towel over Neil’s skin to dry it. Neil catches a glimpse of himself in the foggy glass of the shower door beside them, his lips almost blue, and face as pale as the porcelain tub that had started to drain.

Andrew snaps his fingers to pull Neil’s attention back to him, and does it again when it is unsuccessful at evoking any reaction. Neil looks at him finally, and Andrew places one hand on his chest and the other wrapped around the back of his neck.

“Breathe,” he says, one word, like it’s an easy thing to do.

“I can’t,” Neil gasps, but his lungs fill with water with every fill he takes in.

“You can.” Andrew says, sternly. “Breathe, Neil.”

Neil breathes in deep, but with it, another unexpected splash from an emptying basin pours down his throat without reprieve. He doesn’t remember falling to the floor, but suddenly his hands are flat on cold tile, as he heaves in oxygen that refuses to fill his chest at all.

Andrew lets him fall to his knees, and he doesn’t touch him. Instead he kneels down in front of him, his presence noticeable as Neil struggles through flashes of darkness and water and water and water and water.

“Stop,” he doesn’t mean to say it. His words are clear now, not a foolishly daring gargle, but still he feels the stream that travels from the sides of his lips down his cheeks.

“You’re killing him,” Jean’s panic doesn’t help. It doesn’t help, as the idea of torturing Neil to the point of extinction is nothing more than a turn on to Riko. It doesn’t stop him from holding each side of the towel over his face and pulling it backwards, crushing his nose, the water held in its fibres forced to escape. Riko does not fear the threat of a life taken by his hand. He is nothing less than excited by it.

Neil knows fear like an old friend. Neil knows this slow-dance with death like a movie on replay - it is as familiar as it is terrifying. Something about this though, this twisted assault born from sick fascination with torture, it’s different. He wouldn’t say that it was too far, even for someone like his father, but truth be told, he’s never known fear like this. The scars on his chest from the pointed touch of his father’s knife, or the smell of burning skin beneath a hot iron, or the puckering hole left by a gunshot wound had nothing on the sadistic things that Riko even thought of doing. He didn’t know how long he sits, or stands, or lies in that room for, hands holding him down, darkness of black walls parallel to the wet fabric over his eyes - and mouth, and nose, tight around the edges with rogue breaths finding their way beneath water and the penetrable thing that it pours onto.

“It will be much more satisfying if you just hand me over to my father,” Neil’s coughs are wet after he vomits out the water that had made its way to his stomach. It’s not until he looks up, and Riko’s eyes are on Jean instead of him, that he realises he’s spoken in French. He switched to English while spitting out water through gargling burps and coughs. “The master will kill you if I don’t come out of here alive.”

“I will be happy at least,” Riko shoves two fingers down Neil’s throat while pulling on his hair. He wipes the watery puke that coats his fingers onto Neil’s face after he vomits again from the force of Riko’s touch at the back of his throat. The noise that leaves his lips is guttural and unintentional. “Perhaps a long and painful death will be enough of a lesson learned for you. Oh, aren’t you having fun?”

Andrew’s voice pulls him back, again, but this time he grips Neil’s face so tightly it will leave a mark. “Come back,” he says, or maybe it’s, “fucking breathe.”

Neil battles against the flood that fills his mouth with no escape. There’s no room for air. There’s no room to breathe.

“Ten minutes,” Jean says, and the water stops. “We cannot be late.”

Then a rogue breath slips through, and another, and another, and the bathroom comes back into focus. Andrew is sitting in front of him, his face still as he waits for Neil to come back.

It’s a while before Neil’s heart starts to slow, and the bath is long emptied.

A long time since Neil had had such a visceral reaction to the next, perhaps the worst part about it all is the reminder of how much Neil had forgotten about the treatment he’d endured at the nest. If he’d forgotten about something as serious as torture banned by the Geneva Convention, what else had happened? What else had his mind stored away, too traumatising to be kept in view? Riko’s proclivity to going so far as committing an act that is considered a war crime is as unsurprising as it is fitting. It angers Neil, much angrier than he’s felt about Riko since his death. He remembers it in terrible and vivid snippets; the things Jean said to him afterwards, the smile on Riko’s face as he watched Neil come back from the brink over and over and over again. He remembers drying himself off afterwards to pull gear on over his head to start their evening practices with water in his lungs and a blur over his eyes. All he had wanted to do was sleep. Jean had helped him shower afterwards as he fought through laboured breath while avoiding the spray of water.

“Where were you?” Andrew asks, quietly, as neither of them dare to move.

It frustrated Neil to be unable to find the exact location of the incident in his head. Were they in the locker room? Or had a door locked behind them, keeping the Ravens out, who pretended to ignore the muffled screams as they walked past?

“Evermore,” Neil answers, and it doesn’t seem to be the answer Andrew is expecting. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Andrew doesn’t need the clarification, but still he nods.

“Riko,” Neil looks at his hands, and they’re shaking as he flexes his fingers. “He fucking waterboarded me. And I forgot.”

A flash of unmedicated rage crosses in front of Andrew’s vision. He doesn’t seem to have the right words to say, no response appropriate enough to explain what he wished he could do to the king.

“I’d kill him if I could,” Neil rests his fists on the floor. “I wish I pulled that trigger myself.”

“And still it wouldn’t be enough,” Andrew agrees. It’s hard to talk about the nest, even with him, especially with him. They both are too aware of what happened over those few weeks, in Evermore, in Easthaven. Neil knows too well how Andrew hates how he was unable to protect him. “Talk to me.”

“He would’ve killed me,” Neil says. “He would’ve kept going if we didn’t have to practice.”

Andrew can’t hide his grimace. It’s the part about Exy that he fears Kevin or Neil will find themselves toxically invested in - he occasionally worries their investment is born from necessity instead of true purpose. He sees their passion, clear as day, but that part that fears a life without it sometimes felt like it swallowed their passion whole.

“What do you need?” He asks.

“To know he’s burning in hell for the rest of eternity,” Neil pushes himself up to a standing position, and Andrew follows. Andrew doesn’t exactly hold out his arms, but something about his body language invites him close. As Neil steps into his space, he reaches out to hold his neck, as he hovers a hand over Andrew’s chest until he nods in permission for him to place it. Neil rests him head on Andrew’s shoulder as the goalkeepers fingers hold the damp hair at the back of his neck. “I have to talk to Kevin.”

Andrew doesn’t respond.

He simply holds Neil for as long as it takes for him to ground himself back on earth.

#kind of want to write Kevin’s reaction too #but I just #yes #had to get this out there #because it’s been in my head for too long #fell out of love with this idea towards the end so #it iiiiiisss what it issssss #mine #Andrew minyard #Neil josten #andreil

[lowkeyren]

forbidden love ft. sunday x stowaway reader… real???/

you are a stowaway that entered penacony through unconventional means after escaping your homeland.

so what happens when you wander through the streets of golden hour, awed and gawking at the scenery —bump into a young man with wings on the sides of his head, as well as a halo behind him. who knew the family welcomed angels as their guests? (not like you know who they invite anyway)

you take a liking to him immediately; he's the definition of a gentleman, apologizing graciously despite it being you who ran into him.

"are you alright?" his voice gentle as you nod in response, words momentarily failing as you take in his elegant poise. he offers to show you around, and you eagerly accept, finding a strange comfort in his presence. as you stroll side by side, you notice how he interacts with others, receiving praises and unfailing respect. it's evident that people hold him in high regard, gathering admiration from those around him.

as you spend more time together; sunday finds himself drawn to you in ways he can’t explain, your laughter was like music to his ears, and your smile lighting up even the darkest corners of his soul. he gradually finds himself seeking out your presence more and more, falling deeper in love with each passing day.

it's true that he can’t shake the feeling that there was more to you than meets the eye, you've always had an aura that seems oddly out of place, and you never fail to change the subject when the conversation happens to be about you.

but deep down, though sunday refuses to come to terms to— the moment his gaze first fell upon you, he already knew the truth. you are a stowaway, an unauthorized outsider in the midst. and yet, strangely enough, it only makes him more infatuated with you.

he watches you from a distance, intoxicated by your every movement. and despite the rational voice in his mind urging him to step back, he can’t bring himself to pull away. every second is consumed by the overwhelming desire to be near you, to bask in the warmth of your presence, leaving him utterly and completely entranced by the mere thought of you.

of course you notice his discreet glances, perhaps as to not embarrass him, you don't call him out. but you know this is wrong; you shouldn't be here, let alone get involved with the head of the oak family. but the way he easily sweeps you off your feet has you falling harder and harder, leaving you breathless and unable to deny your growing feelings any longer.

the looming consequences is evident in every way possible, but none of that matters.

for in his arms, you found a love worth fighting for, a love that filled the empty spaces in your heart with warmth; and in your embrace, he found a love worth risking everything for, a love that he would protect with every fiber of his being.

༊*·˚

all hail sunday 🙏🏻🙏🏻 if you saw this before, no u didn't!!! (repost cus it wasn't showing up in tags..)

masterlist

#✧renthinks! #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr fanfic #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #honkai starrail x reader #hsr imagines #honkai starrail #sunday hsr #sunday x you #sunday x reader #hsr sunday x reader #sunday honkai star rail #hsr scenarios

[delta-pavonis]

Dreaming Week 2024 Day 3

Dreamling Week 2024 Day 3 Prompts (from @mr-sadman): solarpunk, painting, meet cute, massage

Dreamling || Rated T || 1093 words

tags (other than the prompts above): fantasy, urban fantasy, solarpunk, drow druid/sorcerer Dream, half wood elf bard/gunsmith Hob, investigator partners with a history, they get captured and held for days as torture, passing mention of biological consequences of being tied to chairs for days on end, confessions

Read Part 1 here. Part 2 here.

(In chronological order, Part 2 comes before Part 1 and this comes after Part 1. Mentions events of Part 1 and events discussed in Part 2.)

“When we get out of this the first thing I am doing is getting a three hour massage, bloody fuck these chains are tight.” Dream tries to twist his wrist to get some wiggle room and can't even manage that; all the movement does is jostle their chairs. His partner whines. “You alright there, Hob?”

They are chained to a pair of chairs, back to back, with heavy steel links. The chains aren't spelled, but they don't need to be when they are this tight: there is no way Dream will pull off even the smallest somatic component restrained like this and Hob certainly can’t play an instrument or draw a gun. Even worse, the room is unnaturally dark.

Dream hadn’t realized how used he had gotten to the sunlight and the greenery of the surfacelands until they were taken from him. For a moment he takes comfort in thoughts of twirling tree branches forming the beams of great towers, arched windows carefully grown in between, columns of elevators going so high they meet the top of the building in the clouds. He thinks of winding streets made of sandstone and brass and overflowing with greenery, the whirring music of solar panels as they track the sunlight along with their flower-kin. 

The thought of the movement of the sun reminds Dream that time has been passing, that they have been in here long enough that he is starting to have trouble tracking time–the only clock he has to go by is his heartbeat and that is only reliable for so long. Hunger has long since passed into a dull ache, which tells him it must be more than a couple days. Both of them have vacated all the remaining volume of foodstuffs left in their digestive tracts, removing another marker of time. 

They have not seen another soul since they awoke here. There is a dim illumination that comes from… somewhere, but Dream cannot pinpoint it. It is only enough to see his own knees by, make out the faintest outline of the large stone blocks of the ceiling that is a mere few feet above their heads. It is not enough for Hob to see anything, dull as his half-human senses are. 

Cruelly enough, water drips from the seams in the stone structure in a few places, landing on the top of their heads, on Hob’s shoulder and chest, on Dream’s cheek. It is the bare minimum to keep them alive and Dream suspects that is very much on purpose.

Dream leans his head back with a sigh and it presses against Hob's. 

“You ever wonder what would have happened if we met under different circumstances?” Hob's speech is slurred enough that it makes Dream reconsider if those arrows they got hit with were a poison targeted for those of the surface. It adds a new layer to the puzzle of who has captured them. “Like, if I wasn't working that night in the tavern, wasn't being the biggest distraction possible?” He is silent for a beat. “I would've asked to join you at your table. Start back up properly, like old friends might. But we’re not friends, are we?” His chuckle is hollow. “No, most definitely not. Perhaps I would’ve tried to woo you with song… paint you a picture with music. Gods, you were so beautiful. Are. So beautiful.”

“Hob…” He doesn't sound like himself, can't possibly be meaning to say any of this. 

“Do you have any idea how badly I want you? Fuck, like all the time. From the very first moment I saw you, when you walked into the Guildhall while I was trying to convince them to hire me. I can even still hear the swissh-click of your airwalker boots on the wooden floor.” Dream can hear him swallow. “It never goes away, you know? This yearning for you. It lives inside me now.”

He closes his eyes and tries to ignore it. Hob cannot be meaning to say this right now and Dream certainly does not want to hear it without Hob’s consent; he is relieved when they lapse into silence once again. 

But it doesn't last.

“If you get a chance to escape, you have to promise me to take it, even if you can't get me out.” Hob’s voice is a threadbare whisper.

No. They can't talk like this. He won't have it. “Hob, you’re-”

“I am not delirious and I am not talking nonsense!” He is panting now and Dream swears he can hear Hob's racing heartbeat. It is another piece of evidence that he is not himself. “Promise me, Dream. Promise me you will save yourself if you have the chance, even at my expense.”

“No.” Absolutely not. Dream's answer is immediate and brooks no argument; he won't even consider it. The idea is anathema, like teaching the Druidic language outside of a Circle or attempting to unbalance Nature itself. “I will not leave without you.” 

Hob’s breath rate is increasing, pushing into hyperventilating, and his voice is unsteady as a newborn foal’s legs. He sounds almost on the verge of tears and it makes something in Dream’s heart crack. “Please, Dream! I need you to promise me.”

He grits his teeth hard enough to make them squeak. “I will make no such vow.” Dream growls. It is harsh, he knows, but he will also not lie to Hob. Not after everything they’ve been through. 

They never got a chance to talk about it, what lay implied between them from their adventure with that soul-swapping curse. Not properly. Not before this case, which pretty much immediately went tits up. Fuck, they should have spoken about it. 

Dream adds this to his long ledger of regrets.

When Hob speaks again the words are clearly forced through a rising tide of panic. “I need to know you’ll be safe, that y-” 

“Breathe Hob. We don’t need to plan-”

“Promise me!” he sobs. “I need to know you wi-”

That something in Dream breaks.

“I will not leave without my Mate!”

For a moment the only sound in the small room is Hob’s panting, then Dream lets his head fall back; this time it lands on Hob’s shoulder with a dull whump.

“You were right. What you felt during the curse.” Dream closes his eyes. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you. I just… we were… we’ve been…”

Hob turns his head, twists his shoulders, as much as possible, until his nose nudges the point of Dream’s ear. “Stupid. We’ve been truly. Amazingly. Stupid.”

#Dreamling Week #Dreamling Week 2024 #solarpunk urban fantasy AU #drow druid/sorcerer Dream #half wood-elf bard/gunsmith Hob #Pavonis writes #Dreamling #Dream of the Endless #Hob Gadling

[kjack89]

Never Say Die

Happy Barricade Day!

On the night of June 5th, Marius arrived home late. Cosette was not waiting for him at the door, wringing her hands with worry. She had learned her lesson after the first year, after hours spent pacing, wondering when Marius would return, fearing that something had happened to him – he was weak still, weaker than he would ever admit, try as he did to be strong for her especially, but his body had not yet fully healed even a year on, to say nothing of the other wounds he bore that very well may never heal. Marius had returned home eventually that first June night, late enough that the date had slipped from the 5th to the 6th, and when finally he did walk through the door, Cosette threw her arms around him. “I feared the worst,” she told him, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “I feared I may have lost you.”

His only response had been to stroke her dark hair gently, holding her until she let go. He offered no word then of where he had gone, or where he would again go the following year, or the year after. He did not voice the names of those he had lost, no more than he shared any tales of the time they had spent together. 

Not then, at least, but Cosette had slowly learned of those who had suffered the fate Marius had come so close to, when Marius let slip a name or the start of a story. At first, he would break off, his face creasing with pain from a wound that would never truly mend, no matter her ministrations. Then, over time, he would tell her more. Very rarely about the barricade itself, but more about the small moments he had shared with his friends, his observations of the men he had known.

As the years passed, Cosette felt like she finally knew the men she had never had a chance to meet, the men whose impact on Marius remained marked, even after all this time.

So much so that every June 5th, like the one in question, he would disappear from their house to spend time, seemingly, with the ghosts of his memory as his only companion.

And though she would never understand what it must be like to carry them with him, she could equally never find it in herself to begrudge him this one indulgence.

On the night in question, Cosette had long since retired to their bed, though she was still awake when he slipped in beside her, and she waited for him to make himself comfortable and blow out his candle before curling against him. 

For a long moment they lay together in silence until finally Cosette ventured softly, “I know that you miss them.”

Marius sighed. “I do,” he confirmed, equally quiet.

Cosette lifted herself up to tell him, sincerely, “I wish there was anything more I could do to ease this ache each June.”

Wordlessly, Marius gathered her to him, kissing her forehead. “I do miss them,” he repeated, “but that is– it is an old hurt now.” He shook his head. “Time heals, they say, and I know not how much truth there is in such a pat sentiment. But it does ease the consternation, at least slightly. And besides…”

He trailed off and Cosette frowned up at him. “And besides?” she prompted after a moment.

Marius cleared his throat. “And besides, they’re not gone, of course,” he finished, his voice a little rough. “Not truly.”

“In the way that no one who we love ever truly leaves us?” Cosette asked, laying her head against Marius’s chest.

He bent to press another kiss to the top of her head. “Yes,” he said, “but also no. It’s more than that.”

She tilted her head up toward him. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated. “I mean…they live on,” he said finally, the starkness of the statement emphasizing its sincerity. “They must.” He shrugged almost helplessly. “Just as I feel they must have lived before. Whenever one galvanizes a small group against all odds, I must believe that Enjolras is there in that moment, in that strength in the arm hoisting a flag high.”

Cosette had never heard him speak of his friends this way, and she almost held her breath, as if afraid that would be enough to break the spell.

Marius stroked her hair almost absentmindedly as he continued, something soft and almost wistful in his tone, “When one manages to teach the most important of lessons with the simplest of words, I must believe that Combeferre is speaking through them, as once he spoke to me. When one is bone-weary from scraping a living but still shows up in every way that matters, they keep Feuilly alive with them.”

His hand stilled and Cosette tightened her grip on him, just slightly, the small movement enough for his hand to resume its motions. “Bossuet lives through every selfless gesture, every sacrifice which may seem small but lights a fire that can never be extinguished, and Joly lives at his side to walk through that fire with him.” 

Despite himself, he smiled, just slightly. “And should my words, should anyone’s words in service of revolution seem even slightly poetic, then I know it is only because Jehan breathes them from our lips. And when words fail and fists become the only recourse, I know Bahorel is there, with that fierce grin.” 

He shook his head, his smile fading. “And whenever a toast is raised to friendship, to the unbreakable bonds of brotherhood, I will only ever see Grantaire, his bottle held aloft.”

“And Courfeyrac—” 

For the first time, his voice broke, and Cosette held him even tighter, not daring to speak. After a long moment, Marius cleared his throat, though he made no attempt to finish his thought, only kissing Cosette once more, the gesture saying more than his words ever could.

“They lived,” Marius said finally, his voice quiet but banded with steel. “They were real, flesh and blood. I touched them, I knew them, I loved them.”

Again his voice broke. “Love them still.”

He swallowed, hard, his voice rough and pained as he said, barely louder than a whisper, “And they died. And a part of my heart died with them on the barricade that day.”

There was just the hint of sob in his voice, the hint of such naked pain that caught in his throat as if he didn’t dare share it, and Cosette’s heart broke for him. Wordlessly, she propped herself upright and tugged him down so that their positions were reversed, so that she held Marius against her breast as he curled around her, hot tears soaking the bodice of her nightgown.

After a long moment, Marius recovered somewhat, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath and shifting so that his head rested against his shoulder, and he reached down to take her hand, lacing their fingers together. “They died,” he repeated, more steadily this time. :But their ideas—” He shook his head. “They were never solely theirs and so could never, can never, truly die.” He turned his head to press a kiss to her shoulder before adding, “Not until all chains and broken and there are no battles left to fight, at least.”

He brushed his thumb lightly against her knuckles. “It is a beautiful gift, in a way,” he whispered, more to himself than to her, “to live forever as a thread in the fabric of freedom.” He squeezed her hand. “And as much as I miss them, and I do, some days more than words, some days so much that my heart feels it might claw its way from my chest, there is great comfort in knowing that.”

Marius took one last deep breath before finishing, “And it makes it at least a little easier to bear.”

For one long moment, Cosette was silent, simply holding Marius against her, her own unshed tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Then she bent to kiss his forehead like a benediction, like absolution for that pain she knew he still carried with him. “For what little it is worth,” she whispered, “though I never met them, I feel as though they live within my heart as well.”

“It is worth everything,” he told her, tugging her down to kiss her properly before telling her, “And that too makes it easier to bear.”

As much as she would never truly know if Marius meant it, or simply said it to ease her own conscience, the secondhand hurt she carried from him, Cosette still felt something warm bloom in her chest at his words, and she pulled him closer still, holding him silently  with the only comfort she could offer until sleep claimed them both.

If all of his friends lived within him, within any who continued their fight, then Cosette had to believe that Marius too would live on inside anyone who survived to fight still.

And as she drifted to sleep still holding Marius against her, she could not help but think that was as beautiful a belief as any she’d ever held.

#marius pontmercy #cosette fauchelevent #marius x cosette #courfius #implied at least #les miserables #canonical character death #canon era #post canon #grief #but so much love #so so so much love

[glitterjay]

ENEMIES TO LOVERS | 이희승.LHS

summary: heeseung finds himself drawn to the girl he initially clashed with. two competitive rivals notice the sparks that fly every time they encounter each other. beneath the surface of their hatred lies a hidden chemistry drawing them closer despite their efforts to resist. could love possibly fire up from sparks?

genre: feuding families, a little bit of everything (smut, fluff, angst), enemies to lovers

warnings: will contain smut (slight), heeeseung and reader are in their late 20s, more to be added.

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heeseung had called you early in the morning, asking if you had made it home. you didn't, in fact, and spent the night in the building. luckily, you were able to ask one of your workers to bring you a change of their clothes as a favor.

the blazer you had woken up with draped around your shoulders was hanging from a clothes hanger in your office. you found yourself staring at it from time to time as you recalled how heeseung had called to check in on you before mentioning that he had a meeting later to sort out your ideas together.

you tried to keep it professional, but the burning ache in your heart persisted. how could he act so naturally after having to work with his greatest enemy?

To Heeseung, you were just another person in his life. You weren't his enemy; you were his family's. It's true that he would get irritated, but that was because, in the back of his head, there was this thought that lingered, pointing out how good-looking and just perfect you looked.

-

the time for the meeting had arrived, and heeseung proposed that they meet at his apartment. the comfort of his own home helped him concentrate better, and he knew it was probably a better option for you rather than having to be stuck in that building again.

he didn't know why, but he turned on scented candles around the house, prepared a small cheese board that he set up in his living room, and played some soft music on a speaker as background noise.

there was this weird spark within his core again. It was confusing. he thought it was hate at first, since he would always get such a feeling when you'd win clients. but it was accompanied by a strange bubbly sensation in his stomach, and he swore again his heart had stopped for a mere second when he heard his phone buzz.

heeseung shook off every sense of nervousness that was invading his body and checked the message that had made his screen light up. It was you, saying you were standing in front of his door.

once he opened up, you offered him a smile of courtesy, which he reciprocated. little did you both know it was genuine joy in seeing each other.

having to deal with the same person for years was not only convenient when finding the other's flaws and weaknesses, but it also made you notice small details. heeseung knew you never drank coffee and went with tea instead. and you knew he only drank black coffee—no sugar, no nothing.

-

hours had passed of you sharing thoughts on how to make this alliance work and how it could benefit both of you at the same time. you had let your guard down without noticing, laughing and cracking jokes with heeseung as he tried to lighten up the mood. the tiredness in your eyes had faded the moment the conversation drifted from work.

he seemed like a nice and genuine man. you had learned that he loved singing and, like you, was forced to keep the family business running. the only difference was that heeseung's family wasn't as harsh as yours. he had a lot more freedom, and the decision to go on with the alliance was made by him.

"i'm basically doing this without my father knowing," you blurted out. he nodded in agreement, offering a piece of cheese he had taken from the board. "you're very respectable, you know. I hate that about you."

you froze in place, a sudden tension seeming to fall only on your shoulders. heeseung kept eating, his gaze fixed on the wall in front of him.

"i hate that you knew how to hide everything you were going through, and how, despite everything, you looked fine."

"do you hate it, or do you envy it?"

it was heeseung's turn to tense up. he let out a sigh and let his shoulders relax. "both. and now there's this weird feeling in my chest that just won't go away."

your eyes widened at his words, igniting the spark in your chest as he spoke. for a moment, you could see tiny beams of light forming a string that connected your chest to his.

© glitterjay | tumblr

#— ✿ c's work! #enhypen #engene #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enemies to loves #enhypen heeseung #heeseung x reader #kpop #kpop imagines #heeseung scenarios #heeseung imagines #heeseung enemies to lovers #enhypen enemies to lovers

[l0sercat]

Yandere alphabet with King Baldwin IV

MDNI because this is dark content!

Affection — how do they show their love and affection?

He shower's you in gifts and love. Anything you want or he thinks would look good on you he would buy you. He doesn't know how else to show how he loves you so he just spoils you.

Blood — how messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He will make sure anyone who disrespects you, looks at you funny, or talks bad about you will die. He won't kill anyone for just anything he is a king with a reputation after all.

Cruelty — how would they treat their darling once abducted?

He would treat you like a goddess. Your his everything and even though it's selfish to keep you and wrong before he dies he just wants to experience love and comfort.

Darling — aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He doesn't like to do things your not comfortable with. But he sometimes just can't help it and forcibly holds you down and cuddles you. He likes to feel your warm embrace, it makes him sad that you fight him, but he understands he did abduct you.

Exposed — how vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He is pretty vulnerable especially because of his disease. He shows his soft side and loves you with everything he has. He wants you to to feel comfortable and safe with him. Even when he feels weak he comes to see you even if you might attack him while he's weak.

Fight — how would they feel if their darling fought back?

He's understanding but it still makes him sad. He would've hoped you would warm up to him with his he spoils you. If you keep fighting back and are a risk to his safety he will have to begrudgingly tie you up in his chambers.

Game — is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

He does not like to see you fight and struggle. When you kick him and dash out of the room and into the halls trying to flee his guards. He already told the guards before hand that you are not to leave the palace. So they surround you and wait for him to get you himself. Baldwin is deeply hurt and upset and stumbles his way towards you. Your sobbing and screaming, you apologize and then curse at him. Your a wreak and Baldwin just slaps you across the face. His one eye is glaring at you and that shuts you up. You've never seen him like that and he doesn't feel like arguing with you. Your stumbling behind him with tears running down your face. You thought you could've gotta way but you were apparently wrong. (Sorry for this long ass paragraph lmfao)

Hell — what would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Similar to the experience I just wrote above lol. But this time they try sneaking out in the dead of night. He's tightly gripping you and having you pressed against his chest. You sneakily get out of his grasp and try to leave. But there are guards posted outside your bedroom, so they catch you immediately. Your kicking and screaming and Baldwin is just shaking his head. He decides to tie you to his bed. Your hands above your head and feet bound together. Your gagged and crying and Baldwin is just glaring at you, deeply upset. You'd be bound for a couple days only being untied for necessities like bathing, eating, and bathroom. He'd ignored you only giving you passing glances or untying you.

Ideals — what kind of future do they have in mind for their darling?

He wants a family but he doubts it'll go well because of his leprosy. He wants at least 4-5 kids and to live a long life but he knows he only has a couple years left to life. So he will settle with just you by his side and ruling Jerusalem.

Jealousy — do they get jealous? How do they handle it?

He hardly ever gets jealous because no one will ever get close to you. Maybe if you get to close to some of the ladies and your attention is taken up.

Kisses — how do they act around or with their darling?

He is always holding onto you. Wether it's your hand or waist. He's clingy especially when you guys are alone. Even during sex he is in the most intimate positions. He just loves being close by you.

Love letters — how would they go about approaching their darling?

He would court you as if you refuse he'd be sad, but then remembers he's king so he just takes you as his.

Mask — are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yes. You'll be treated like a god(dess) and he's happy with you. But in front of others he s fearless powerful leader.

Naughty — how would they punish their darling?

Ties you up in his room and kills anyone who tries to help you. He'll have them excuted and make you watch. He doesn't like seeing you gagged and crying but it's what'll happen if you try to leave him.

Oppression — how many rights would they take away from their darling?

Not many. He'll let you roam around but only with him around or one of his most trusted guards.

Patience — how patient are they with their darling?

He's a very patient man. He will wait for a long time for you to warm up to him. But he doesn't have long so he can't wait forever. If he has too he will force you to do things.

Quite — if their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you die he would mourn u til the day he dies. He'll never get over you and he's actually glad he'll die young so he can see you soon. If you escape he'll be crushed and have some of his men search for you. He'll be looking for you til he dies and he'll never get over you.

Regret — would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling?

Yes but in the end he'll block it out and pretend like you wanted him and everything is normal.

Stigma — what brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Probably childhood. Never truly sharing a bond with anyone but his sister. He's lonely and need someone by his side.

Tears — how do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He hates it and will try to soothe you and make you calm down and if that doesn't work he'll give you space.

Unique — would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He actually takes you out in public. Go to the local markets and stuff and you'll be able to talk to people.

Vice — what weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Yes. He's very fragile because of leprosy. But because of that he will always have guards outside of his room because he knows you'll try to exploit this weakness.

Wit’s end — would they ever hurt their darling?

Yes but on accident. You'd get hurt from the ropes he tied you with or accidentally gripping your arm to hard. Nothing serious.

Xoanon — how much would they revere or worship their darling?

He worship's his darling so much. Like your his everything and he loves you so much. If you treat him the same way he treats you he will literally melt.

Yearn — how long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He'll long after you for about a year then take you. During that year he'll court you but if you don't return the feelings he has no choice but to take you.

Zenith — would they ever break their darling?

No because he treat's you so good and actually doesn't abuse you like most yandere's would.

#x reader #gender neutral #gender not specified #gender neutral reader #yandere baldwin #yandere baldwin iv #yandere Baldwin x reader #yandere Baldwin IV x reader #baldwin x reader #kingdom of heaven baldwin #baldwin iv x reader #king baldwin iv #baldwin iv #yandere alphabet

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Unintentional 29

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We're finally on the way home kids...

CW: BBU-adjacent, institutionalized slavery. Beta-read by @alittlewhump <3

The clock on the dashboard of Delia’s Honda glows bright blue, digital colon blinking between the six and five every second like a heartbeat. Only seven more minutes until the CVS opens. Leo scans the parking lot for the dozenth time. It’s still nearly empty, unchanged since they pulled in ten minutes ago after a drive twice as long as it needed to be. The pharmacy is the only store with any lights on, the rest of the strip mall’s windows and signs are dark. Errant snowflakes flurry through the light cast by the street lamps, inconsistent and sparse, borrowed from a passing storm. It would be peaceful if it weren’t for the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. 

Leo drags a hand over his face and takes a deep breath. He can’t even remember the last time he pulled an all-nighter. It must have been back when he was young enough for it not to feel like he’d been hit by a bus. Beside him, Aiden is still and quiet, save for the just-audible exhales he forces between pursed lips. Measured and even like he’s trying to stave off tears or panic or pain or some combination of all three. They hadn’t spoken on the ride over, both tensely checking the mirrors to make sure they weren’t being followed. 

Not that there was anything to say. 

…

He couldn’t even look at him.

If Aiden were a normal teenager—whatever that means—he’d be giving him hell. How could you be so impulsive? I already thought I lost you once today and now you’re jumping at the next chance? Do you have any idea what that would be like for me? Trying to get on with my life after they’d taken you back? Can’t you see how much I care about you? 

But he couldn’t say any of that. Didn’t know what to say, so he couldn’t look at him right now. Aiden quietly resumed his charade. Sure, the raid wasn't over yet but Leo couldn’t help wondering if he was putting on an extra show of cooperation as a demonstration of goodwill. 

Did he regret what he almost did? Or just the fact that he got caught? 

When he was sure Aiden’s eyes were closed, Leo looked into his face. The ruse wasn’t at all convincing, Leo knew him too well. For starters, the overwrought way Aiden managed his breath was a dead giveaway. A far cry from the gentle, inherent rhythm of sleep even he managed. Leo had clocked more minutes than he was willing to admit frozen in the hallway, letting himself feel an undeserved modicum of relief when that smooth sound reached his ears.

Just as telling was the determination in the tension of his jaw, only a little diluted by the way he was holding the inside of his bottom lip between his teeth to keep it from trembling. He was braver than Leo could ever give him credit for. He barely understood the first thing about this kid, yet here he was, reading every twitch of his brows and hitch of his breath like he had the whole frame of reference. 

Thankfully, this charade didn’t solely hinge on his or Aiden’s poor acting skills. The devil was in the details on this one. It was the set that truly sold it and revealed just how much practice Delia has had at this. 

Greeting cards crowded the windowsill, all sure to have handwritten messages on the inside. Either abandoned and repurposed or manufactured for this explicitly. A handmade quilt was tucked over the foot of the bed, balloons filled one corner up to the ceiling, and fresh flowers sat on all three tables. A hand-painted ‘Keep Fighting’ sign stretched across the wall with messages and names written over handprints. He recognized Delia’s handwriting in one corner. There’s no way she had recruited so many sympathizers so at least half of those notes and wildly different signatures had to have been done by her hand. Again, he was unsure whether to be unnerved or impressed by the level of dedication. Which was about as terrifying as it was comforting because maybe it meant the agents really weren’t coming back.   

And that was about all the time he could spend distracting himself from what the fuck was going on and where the hell was that damn sister of his. 

It was all he could do not to compulsively check his phone every second. Was it on? Was it even still in his pocket? What if he didn’t get service in this corner of the hospital? 

By the time there was a knock on the door, he had wound himself up so much that he jumped to his feet. In his flat-out panic, he forgot any recognition of the cadence of knocks and was certain they were caught but he was just pinned to the spot like an idiot. When the curtains parted, of course it was only Noah and he knew that, but he had passed the useful kind of adrenaline-fueled exhaustion about five hours ago. 

“They’ve given the all clear. Everything good here?” Leo’s obvious lack of composure earned raised eyebrows from Noah. 

He cleared his throat and straightened, his lower back tight after trying to conform to the chair. “As far as I know…they came in but a nurse made them leave before—” He resisted the impulse to look at Aiden who hadn’t moved, save opening his eyes to watch them. A deer frozen on the edge of the yard, afraid bolting would mean certain death. Ironic. “Where’s Delia?”

Now Noah looked caught out. “She’s, uh, she’s got her hands full with a…patient…” 

Leo struggled to keep his voice even. “What? Did they find something?” 

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s…look it’s better if you don’t know the details. I’m sure you want to get out of here anyway.” He cast a meaningful glance at Aiden. “Here are some notes for the prescriptions. They’re ready to fill at the pharmacy, antibiotics and—”

“Wait a second.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “How deep into this shit are you two? I’m grateful for what you did for us but this doesn’t seem like something you should be making a habit of.” 

Noah had the gall to chuckle—little shit—but when he saw Leo’s expression he quickly swallowed it. “Hey, man, I get it. There’s a reason I don’t tell my family. But I’m sure you know Delia well enough to know she’s not a ‘follower’.” He even used air quotes around the word. “We’re not even in the same unit. We didn’t realize we were both doing this independently until one of our shelter contacts introduced us.” Leo didn’t even try to mask his doubt so Noah continued, “For what it’s worth, it’s a lot safer for both of us having each other’s backs. But as you well know, the risks are never zero when you’re on this side of the law.” 

On this side of the law. 

The phrase twisted and turned in his head as Noah led them out through the labyrinth of back stairwells, quiet wards, and service elevators. It pressed against his thoughts as they huddled in a supply closet from a rush of doctors responding to a code blue. It loomed over him as he rested his hands on Aiden’s shoulders when he nearly jumped out of the wheelchair at the slam of a door. It echoed loudest when he was behind the wheel and it was on him to get them home safe. And figure everything else out. 

…

“L-Leo?” Aiden ducks his chin when Leo looks over, like he didn’t intend to say his name out loud and isn’t sure what to do with his attention now that he has it. He picks at the cuticle of his right thumb, lips moving like he’s trying to shape his words just right before speaking. After a minute of that, he presses them together, flattens his hands on his thighs and meets Leo’s eyes. “Mmm’sorry…before…mmm…” His chin starts to tremble and it’s obvious he wants to look away but he forces himself to maintain eye contact. “I-I-I…mmm…mmm…” 

“Alright, it’s okay.” Leo can’t bear the kid’s self-imposed confession. “I’m not mad. I can’t say I understand what might have possessed you but, anyway, we’re good. Water under the bridge.” It feels a little blunt and more than a little awkward but he adds, “You’re not in any trouble,” like Delia said dozens of times throughout the night. 

“Mmm…but…I’mmm…I-I-I…” Aiden furrows his brow like he’s still trying to find a word, lips moving, but tears well in his eyes, threatening to spill the longer he searches. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Leo repeats gently. “It’s all good.” 

Aiden doesn’t look placated at all. He balks at Leo, visibly distressed, lips quivering as he pauses mid-silent-syllable. 

Shit. That’ll encourage the kid to communicate more, just cut him off like an impatient ass. But if this is just some other backwards Companion obedience thing… Leo’s out of energy for trying to wade through how exactly to handle this. He has so much research to do. Is it even safe to do research?

“I’m sorry, hon. Look” Aiden flinches when Leo's hand meets his shoulder. 

He grimaces at Leo apologetically, shaking his head at himself. He swipes at a tear with the back of his hand and shakes his head again, a ragged exhale escaping his lips.  

“I know it’s not easy, we’ll figure it out together.”   

Aiden looks up, biting his lips together as he tries to blink back the rest of his tears. It’s heartbreaking to watch. Leo hopes he doesn’t think there’s any problem with him crying when he needs to. At the same time, Leo can also understand why he wouldn’t want to always be breaking down. 

“For now, let’s just focus on getting home, okay?” 

Aiden nods, pulling his hands into his sleeves and wiping away the last of the tears. He puts on a brave face.  

“Good boy.” 

Aiden looks away shyly. Leo opens his mouth to take it back, to apologize for saying something so patronizing, so offensive. He meant it more as a ‘good sport’, ‘atta boy’. He— 

There, behind the fist Aiden rests his cheek against as he pretends to look out the window, is a hint of a smile. 

Only this kid can shatter his heart and melt it in the span of five minutes. 

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@batfacedliar-yetagain @whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @lavbug

@pirefyrelight

#bbu #bbu adjacent #box boy whump #dubious caretaker #pet whump #recovery whump #trust building trope #hurt/comfort #angst/comfort #hospital setting cw #institutionalized slavery cw #the next part is already written so it won't be another eight month posting gap...oops

[tuninghearts]

Finding himself in Lucifer’s bed, Alastor couldn’t help but want a knife to plunge into his heart. It’s embarrassing, and he scowls at his own beating heart’s desires.

Radioapple Week - Day 2

Prompt: Enemies/Pining

“What’s wrong?” Lucifer asks.

Was he clueless? Is he stupid?

“Are you seriously asking me what’s wrong? I’m in your bed,” Alastor yells. The harshness in his tone was not expected from him—it’s probably the hangover striking him, looping coils around his throat until he could barely decipher what was the crippled remains of last night and what was truly contained in the locked portion of his soul.

“My gosh, can you calm down? You woke up next to me, there’s nothing we can do about it to change the fact that this happened, can it? We can’t rewind time, can we?”

“You—”

“Dad?” Knocking reverberates across the room, Carlie’s voice following along. “Have you seen Alastor? He has been gone all night.”

Lucifer raised a finger to his lips. Poised. It lowers so words can bounce off of his tongue when his lips open. “I haven’t, sorry, I think he is probably downtown, passed out on the streets.”

“Everyone in the hotel is searching for him. In the room, around Hell, even in Husk’s bar.”

“Listen, I haven’t seen him anywhere.”

“I’m worried. What if he’s hurt?”

“He’s the Radio Demon, Charlie, what can hurt him, honestly?” He laughs, nonchalantly, as if Alastor wasn’t dressed in his own, stupid, sheathlike clothes that he had thrown at him. “Come on, he’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, but please come and help me search for him.”

“I will, don’t worry about it. Now, please, go with everyone else to do the searching, since you think Alastor really needs it.”

“Please come shortly.”

“I will, I will.”

When the sound of footsteps descend down the hallway, Alastor speaks in hushed mumbles: “You didn’t tell her that I was with you?”

“Of course not, that would be embarrassing.”

“Then why did you agree to it before?”

“I—” Lucifer sighs, as the blanket was fiddled between his fingers. It curls and overlaps over them in gentle waves before it’s pinched in his fingertips. “I wanted you to come and stay with me.”

A noise was made in the depths of his heart—it’s irritating, it yearns for him, but he knew that it’s never a good time to try and form close bonds, for even with Charlie he does his best to keep a safe distance from her. A bond, knitted into his soul, forever there to envelop him with kindness, security, safety.

He scowls at the thought, scowls at Lucifer. In his post-drunk daze, he doesn’t think before he speaks because his mind can’t form coherent thoughts. “I’m leaving.”

“What?” Lucifer was shocked when Alastor stood up from the bed.

“I said I’m leaving.” His suit was picked from the ground.

“How could you leave so suddenly? We… We were doing just fine…” He trails off, and all Alastor wanted was to have him in his grasp, wanting his mouth to flow like a river, because his words were held close to his heart, either as a comforting reassurance or deadly daggers.

Alastor, as always, chooses the latter, because he can never accept that flowers can grow out of another person, delicate petals for his hand to hold. He always somehow finds a way to rip them off of their pistil, and so, he keeps his people as weapons rather than a garden, for that was more manageable for him.

“I just wanted you to be safe, I wanted to make sure that you didn’t end up as a corpse on the dirty streets. Can you be grateful?”

“I would be grateful if you chose anything else other than staying with you.”

“You chose to come here.”

“I was drunk, okay?” All the air rushed out from his lungs when he shouts, as he was rendered too weak to defend himself. “I was drunk, I wasn’t thinking right.”

The cries of a fallen angel were heard behind him, and it burns; he’s lost Heaven, and he’s losing Alastor too. It shatters him to the core, but he tapes it, fakes not giving any sort of sympathy for Lucifer. His eyes fall to the crumpled clothes, squished in his fist. He gazed at the clothes that were on him—though he was strangled with cotton, it was Lucifer’s clothing, it had a tinge of speciality.

Alastor despises how it makes him feel inside. A putty of warmth.

“Take your clothes back. They are too tight for me.” Alastor pulled the shirt over his head, and the shorts were on the floor.

“You slept in those. I think you were just fine in those.” The hardness in his voice, burying layers and layers upon cracking and wavering on his voice, hurts him more than when Adam swung his weapon at him, fatally wounding him until he had to dissolve into the murky darkness and flee from the battlefield.

“I slept in them because I was too tired to think of anything other than sleep.”

“Oh…” Lucifer trails off, as the clothes were placed beside him. His voice was shaky, unable to creep past his vocal cords, and it tears Alastor apart. Despite this, he shoves himself into his suit, wanting to disappear from Lucifer’s eyes.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my leave.” He slips into his boots—they were sweaty on his feet, as he wanted to curl into the bedsheets with Lucifer, doze off with him until the afternoon sparks dread within him, but he knew that if he were to boil in the pit that he lowered himself into, it would only make his feelings worse.

“I…” Lucifer starts, before he shakes his head. Messy hair curls over his forehead. “Nevermind. Don’t worry about me.” As he walks to the door and twists it open, Lucifer speaks up one more time. “Does this mean nothing between us has changed?”

He pauses in the doorframe.

His lips purse with spikes protruding from them.

I wish it did.

“You’re stupid to think that anything has ever changed.” He spits out poison, and slams the door shut, as he wanders off into his crazed mind, and down the hallway.

~~~

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

#radioapple #appleradio #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #radioapple week #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction

[electrikworm]

Human Shield: Part 3

Crosshair waits for news on Wrecker's condition, hoping his brother's life was deemed worth saving.

Later, Wrecker wakes up, something he hadn't expected to ever do again.

Final part of my "how Wrecker got his scar" fic :)

--

Content warning: Talk about death and self-sacrifice

Excuse me for the delay, I am very good at getting distracted by other projects!

Hope you enjoy the last chapter of this fic :) It turned out longer than expected

Inspired by this post by @squad-724

Part 1 Part 2

Enjoy :)

Read on Ao3

It's been hours and still nothing. Crosshair kicks at a piece of scrap metal Tech must have dragged into their barracks, flinging it across the room.

Tech looks up from the workbench to glare at Crosshair. “Breaking things solves nothing.” He scolds, making Crosshair want to kick the damn thing again, just to piss his ori'vod off.

After their initial post mission nap, Tech started working on force knows what and hasn't moved since. Hunter's been laying down most of the time, only getting up to drink a cup of caff. Crosshair doesn't understand how they can bare to stay so still, feeling like he'll lose his mind if he doesn't move.

So Crosshair paces, not knowing what else to do. At some point, he pickes up Lula, cradling her against his chest. The soft pressure of the tooka doll in his arms is comforting and she smells like Wrecker. And besides, if Wrecker can't hold her where he is now, in surgery or a bacta tank, Crosshair might as well hold his beloved stuffed tooka for him.

Crosshair has to believe that that's where Wrecker is, in surgery or a bact tank, because the alternative is so much worse. If he isn't being treated, he'll have been decommissioned, body laying cold in one of the morgues, or already recycled and disposed of. The sniper doesn't even want to consider that option, wants to hope they'd never considering decommissioning someone as valuable as Wrecker.

But Crosshair knows how this place works. Clones have been discarded for less, it happens all the time. And as defective clones, they're all already on thin ice. If the med scanner really did miss something like organ failure or bleeding in the brain, then they might not bother trying to save Wrecker.

Crosshair sits down next to Tech, wanting to distract himself from his darkening thoughts. Wrecker's broken helmet is propped up on the table. Crosshair picks it up, twisting it to inspect the jagged edges. Wrecker's blood has dried to the inside.

“It is beyond saving.” Tech says. Crosshair hates how that statement might end up being said about their injured brother as well.

“I can karking see that.” Crosshair spits. “Why'd you take it anyway?”

“I'm not entirely sure. It felt wrong to leave it behind.”

Crosshair huffs, but he gets what Tech means. On missions, they almost exclusively see each other with their helmets on. In a way, their helmets have become almost synonymous to their faces. The now cracked helmet in Crosshair's hands is nearly as disturbing to see as the actual injuries marring Wrecker's body. Seeing him was still worse of course. Crosshair almost feels sick when he remembers the state Wrecker was in.

Suddenly he can't bare to look at the helmet any longer. Placing it down, he resumes his pacing.

Time keeps passing, and still no news. Crosshair starts trying to tidy Wreckers bunk at some point. Not all of it though. It wouldn't feel right to see Wrecker's bunk entirely neat. That would make it feel like he's gone, and Crosshair doesn't want to think about that.

“What's taking them so long?” Crosshair hisses. He can't stand all the waiting.

“I don't know Cross.” Hunter mumbles, sounding tired. He's not been taking the situation well, none of them have.

Crosshair doesn't know what he'd do if Wrecker dies. He should be prepared for this, they've been trained to accept their own and their brother's deaths since day one. But Crosshair can't get his head around the possibility of Wrecker not being there any more. The two of them are closest in age, the two youngest of Clone Force 99. Wrecker's only a few minutes older than Crosshair, a fact he's always used to piss the sniper off.

But annoying as he is, and as much as Crosshair acts like he hates it, Wrecker's always been there for him.

Anger rises in Crosshair's chest. He can't believe they're being left in the dark about this. He's just about to kick another piece of scrap across the room when the door to their barracks slides open. A member of medical staff Crosshair doesn't recognize stands in the doorway.

“Where is he?” Crosshair spits.

“CT-9903 is in a bacta tank.” The staff member says. Crosshair has to put a hand on a nearby wall, tension from the last few hours suddenly leaving his body. He can hear the shaky breath Hunter lets out from across the room. “I have also been instructed to remind you that you have yet to report anything about the mission you were on.”

“We'll get it done.” Hunter says. Crosshair hadn't even heard him approaching. He'd like to ask if they can see Wrecker, but knows the answer would be no, so he says nothing.

As the door closes again, Tech gives him a knowing look. They'll sneak out to see him later, during the night cycle. Crosshair sits down. He can wait a little longer now, reassured by the fact their brother is alive. They'll get to see him soon enough, even if it is only through a sheet of transparisteel and litres of bacta.

--

Wrecker always expected to die for his brothers sooner or later. It's a fact he made peace with early, even before they gave self-sacrifice a number on their list of plans. So naturally, he'd imagine what dying would feel like.

After hours of careful contemplation and turning the idea around in his head over and over, he came to a simple conclusion: It would hurt, and then there'd be nothing.

And Wrecker wasn't wrong. Death does hurt and is followed by nothing.

But then the pain started coming back. Sometimes less, sometimes more, but it always comes back. An the nothing starts getting replaced by memories, and dreams and, worst of all, nightmares. There's nothing to stop them now, no vode, no Lula, nothing. After all, you can't wake the dead.

Wrecker longs for the nothingness he expected, anything would be better than an eternity of nightmares and pain.

Images of his vode torment Wrecker, images of them injured and dying because he didn't execute plan 99 fast enough. That's when the light appears.

Impossibly bright, blinding, so intense it hurts. Wrecker tries to twist away from it, tries to cover his eyes. He doesn't know why. Wrecker knows he's dead, doesn't have limbs to cover the eyes that don't exist nor a body to turn away from the white light. He can't do a damn thing against what he's exposed to now.

Wrecker can't breath. Confusion and horror rise in his chest as he heaves for air. Why is he trying to breath in the first place? He's dead, shouldn't be breathing at all. But he can't get himself to stop. He just continues to wheeze and cough as he struggles to get anything into his non-existence lungs, as the blinding light refuses to dim and everything starts hurting so much worse.

He sits up, another thing he shouldn't be able to do, not in the void of bad dreams and pain he's in. Tears and spit run down his face as Wrecker claws at his chest. He just wants it all to stop, wants all the pain and uncomfortable sensations gone.

Wrecker just wants to rest.

Colour swirls in the white light surrounding him, and Wrecker almost thinks it's another dream. But they feel too close, too real, almost like he could touch them if he tried. He doesn't, however one of the splotches of colours does try, and something touches Wrecker's hand.

In an instant, Wrecker's vision focuses through the blurs of tears and pain, through the blinding light. He can't stop the sob that forces its way out of his throat as he recognizes those before him.

Crosshair, Hunter and Tech.

“No, no no no...” Wrecker mutters as he backs away from them. They shouldn't be here, they shouldn't be dead! His brothers say things, their faces twisted in emotions Wrecker can't read. All he can do is uselessly gasp for air. He failed them, failed to live up to his purpose. Wrecker let them die.

“'m sorry.” Wrecker forces out between clenched teeth and failed attempts to breath. He hopes they're not hurting like he is, he hopes the pain is his punishment alone. As hard as he tries, Wrecker can't get a coherent string of words out. He wants to tell his vode how sorry he is for letting them down, that he tried his hardest even if it wasn't enough, that he wishes they were alive. It all comes out barely audible over his continuos struggle for air he doesn't need.

When Tech grabs him by the shoulder, Wrecker almost wishes his brother would hit him. Anger at his failure would be understandable, Wrecker can deal with anger. It's all he deserves for letting his squad down when they needed him most.

Instead, Tech shakes him almost gently. “Would you stop apologizing and listen for a karking second?” Tech almost does sound angry, if it weren't for the way his voice nearly gives out. “We're not dead, and neither are you.”

Wrecker doesn't say another word. Not because he doesn't want to apologize further, because he really doesn't think he's brought across just how sorry he is. It's the fact that Wrecker can't get his brain to understand what Tech is trying to tell him that gets the large clone to shut his mouth.

“Calm down Wrecker!” Hunter orders, a clear urgency to his voice. Wrecker is suddenly very aware of how loud his frantic breathing is. This time, he does manage to silence it, the white room suddenly oppressively quiet.

“Don't hold your breath, di'kut! Breathe.” Crosshair takes Wrecker's hand and presses it to his chest. Wrecker can feel his little brother inhaling, tries to match his own intake of air to Crosshair's. This is something Wrecker can do, it's hardly the first time they've had to resort to something like this. It takes a while for Wrecker's lungs to stop burning, but as they do, and Wrecker's head starts to clear, Tech's words start making sense.

Crosshair is breathing, he feels warm to the touch, his heart is beating. He feels alive, is alive . Fresh tears stream down Wrecker's face. It hurts to move, but Wrecker doesn't care, desperately needing to hold one of his brothers immediately.

“Stop squirming about, mir'osik!” Crosshair hisses, putting a hand on Wrecker's chest. There's an astonishing lack of venom to his words. “They only just fished you out of a bacta tank.”

“Don't care.” Wrecker takes hold of Crosshair's arm and drags him into a hug. White hot pain flares along the entirety of Wrecker's right side, but it's still the best thing Wrecker's felt in what seems like an eternity. His brothers are alive, that's all that matters.

“You should care.” Tech says. “Your bones have barely fused and there are still more bandages on you then there is exposed skin. If I am entirely honest, you should not be sitting up in the first place.”

If Tech doesn't want Wrecker to sit up, he'll lay down. He pulls Crosshair onto the bed as he does so. Crosshair complains loudly, surprisingly enough not about Wrecker hugging him, but about the fact Wrecker shouldn't be putting more weight on his injuries. Once Wrecker moves to the side to let Crosshair lay beside him, the sniper stops making a fuss.

Wrecker can make out that they're in a medbay now. If the look wouldn't give it away, the sharp smell of antiseptic is telling enough. Wrecker's glad his brothers are with him, he doubts he could stand the cold room alone.

Metallic screeching makes Wrecker aware of Hunter and Tech pushing one of the other beds up to Wrecker's. They're definitively not supposed to be doing that, but Wrecker won't complain. Two beds side to side, Tech and Hunter climb up on the empty one. Wrecker slings his arm across both of them, ignoring the way his body aches at the movement.

“Careful.” Tech warns. “You sustained multiple fractures in that arm, as well as your legs. It would be highly inconvenient for you to disturb the breaks.” Wrecker nods weakly.

“You're blind and death on the right side.” Crosshair sounds sad, apologetic.

Wrecker gingerly touches his face, hand brushing against thick bandages. “I thought things looked and sounded kinda funny.” Wrecker says with a laugh, making his chest sting horribly. His vode don't laugh, much to Wrecker's disappointment.

“We brought you someone.” Crosshair pulls Lula out from where she'd already been squished between them. A wide smile spreads on Wrecker's face, tugging painfully at the injured side of his face.

“Lula!” Wrecker takes the tooka doll from his brother carefully. “You kept her!” He holds her to his face for a moment, relishing the feeling of the familiar soft material against his skin, before tucking her between himself and Crosshair again.

“Kept her? Why wouldn't we keep her?” Hunter's face pinches in confusion.

“You know...” Wrecker says, waiting for them to guess what he's saying. They don't, so he continues. “If I died...”

“You think we'd get rid of her if you died?” Crosshair sounds so genuinely angry, Wrecker almost flinches away from him.

“I hoped you wouldn't...” Wrecker says, playing with Lula's ear to avoid looking at his vode.

“Maybe you did take brain damage, if you think we'd just get rid of your stuff like you never existed.” Crosshair still sounds angry, but Wrecker spots tears threatening to spill across his cheeks. Wrecker pulls Crosshair closer. He didn't want to make his brother cry.

“I'm sorry it took us so long to get to you.” Hunter says. He looks pained. Wrecker's chest aches at the sight, and he tries to pull him into a hug as well.

“What do you mean?”

Hunter swallows thickly. “We, I, made the decision to leave you under the rubble in favour of the mission. You almost died.” Hunter shakes his head. “Maybe your eye and ear could have been saved if I hadn't made that decision.”

Wrecker runs and uncoordinated hand through Hunter's hair, messing it up. “Eh, forget about it. I wasn't planning to make it out of there alive. This is a good surprise either way, missing organs or not.”

“If you try something like that again, I'll kill you myself.” Tech says, glaring at Wrecker half-heartedly.

Wrecker laughs at his brother's words, hugging his vode just a little tighter, but doesn't say anything. He knows, and he's sure his brother's know too, that if it comes down to it, Wrecker won't hesitate to call plan 99 again. He's glad to be alive, to get a bit more time, but the fact still remains: Plan 99 is Wrecker's duty and one day, it will be the last thing he does.

#tbb #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb tech #the bad batch #tbb fanfiction #wrecker whump #self sacrifice

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

me: i have no interest in making a WH au at present

brain: ok but what if when the show stopped, everyone but Wally & Home were disassembled and Wally himself was locked up in the dark studio - permanently. and for years its just him awake in the dark with only unrotting corpses & Home's creaks for company.

me: ....keep talking

#its very basic and uninspired but oooohhhhh my brain is chewing on it #what would that do to him? #he'd try to fix his friends. and when that doesnt work? then what? #its just him and Home. a house he cannot understand. #in my mind frank is the first to wake up but that happens years after it all Goes Down #so wally has plenty of time to lose his very colorful marbles #absolutely unprompted #and like... how would he comfort himself? how would he pass the time! #answers i know! #tenuously know. i can Assume #ALSO HE GETS A MULLET!!! #BECAUSE US MULLET-HAVERS NEED TO STICK TOGETHER! #ALSO I LIKE SLAPPING THEM ON MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS #THEY EXIST AND I BLAST THEM WITH THE MULLETIFICATION BEAM

[fmhobeus]

fwb!suguru who knew he wanted to fuck when he first laid eyes on you. then wanted to take you out to endless dinners to chat his ears off when he first spoke to you.

fwb!suguru who grew to like you without fucking you, almost forgot it was what he wanted you for – a life together or a night together?

fwb!suguru whose dick got painfully hard when you taunted him, rolled your eyes at him or outwitted him. he lived for your sassiness.

fwb!suguru who happened to fuck you on a random night unexpectedly and it changed the trajectory of his life.

fwb!suguru who stayed after every dick appointment. cuddled with you on the bed, watched movies or your favourite TV show, ordered take out and held you in his arms till you both inevitably fell asleep.

fwb!suguru who couldve sworn he wasn't in love with you. he would still fuck other people (and then come back to you, poor baby was thinking of you the whole time)

fwb!suguru whose grown accustomed to your presence. he calls you when he isn't feeling okay, you call him when something bothers you. he's grown used to you telling him all about work, how you got your nails done, how you saw a cute cat near your apartment. trivial details, which coming from anyone else he would hang up, but he looks forward to them with you.

fwb!suguru who eventually stops fucking other people and is just your man, without you knowing.

fwb!suguru who is determined to mark you up in placed people will notice. your neck, your thighs, your collarbones.

fwb!suguru who believes in giving you his all. all of his long girthy dick that pumps you full it should be criminal, his long slim fingers that have made you orgasm so often and hit that deep spot with unbeat ease, his long tounge... oh god his tounge. he thinks maybe even his long life ahead is yours too, all yours. his little kids too maybe? he doesn't like to think too much about that.

fwb!suguru who has to have your pussy checked with his tounge daily. he has to lap up your insides no matter any circumstances. his voice purrs across your body when he talks you through your orgasm.

"mhmm yeah cum all over my face beautiful, I know you want to"

fwb!suguru who gets sick at the thought of you sitting so pretty for another man when you tell him you're going on a date. suguru who looks so disturbed at the thought of another man even looking at his pretty girl who isn't really his.

fwb!suguru who takes you to corporate events just so he can call you his girlfriend, even if it's just pretend. when you question him it's always "easier explanation than a friend i fuck on the regular, isn't it?"

fwb!suguru who knows how you like your coffee in the morning. he knows what you like for breakfast, your comfort food, your hobbies, your favourite movies, your least favourite movies, your icks, your past. he knows you like he knows himself. he thinks of you when he passes your favourite cafe, he texts you when he sees something in the colour you like.

fwb!suguru who is sure he hasn't felt this way before, who is so vulnerable with you that it scares the shit out of him.

fwb!suguru who is afraid, angered at everything about you. he's angry at how you lull him into a sense of security, how you hold him, how sweet your voice sounds when you call him by his name, how you take care of him, how you listen to him. he hates how your pussy clenches his dick for dear life, milking it dry and how you never let a drop of his cum go to waste, licking it up like a little slut. he's fearful too. about losing you. about where loving you the way he does leads. loving you? wait. he loves you? fuck. fuck. fuck. this hasn't been according to plan at all.

#somebody lied to her #aniya writes ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა #jjk #suguru ♡ #jjk smut #jjk x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #geto x reader #geto smut #jjk suguru #suguru geto smut #jjk ^ ~

[yueebby]

happy wife, happy life  — gojo satoru

synopsis. not fawning over his wife may prove to be harder than gojo thought.

contents. fluff, gojo is so whipped for his wife and everyone is tired (whats new), ooc gojo?

notes. this was pure self indulgence. i wanted to slander and coddle gojo all at once and this was it teehee :3

the first thing you hear when you stand up to leave the staff meeting is a wolf whistle.

“looking good,” satoru looks you up and down. you roll your eyes playfully, your husband’s behavior is not foreign to you. he taps your upper thigh, dangerously close to your butt as you take your leave. however, the others in the room don't take kindly to the action.

“highly inappropriate behavior gojo,” utahime mutters under her breath from across the table. beside her, nanami is giving your husband a hard stare. 

satoru pays no mind to them though, smiling up at you as you walk out of the room. you shake your head when he continuously blows a series of kisses. he ignores your rejection, opting to mouth crude comments instead.

the moment the door shuts, the strongest sorcerer immediately deflates, disinterested in whatever matters the rest had to discuss about. 

“i don’t know how she puts up with you,” utahime takes a long sip out of her cup of tea. beside her, shoko snorts.

“probably for his body.” shoko is not unfamiliar with satoru’s antics, having witnessed it since his rowdy school days. she applauds him for coming far with you, but it was still fun to tease him.

gojo crosses his arms, emitting a disgruntled sound. “and my golden personality?”

nanami sighs, “ieiri’s conclusion is most likely right.”

the limitless user wiggles his finger playfully. “nanamin, how scandalous of you to fantasize about my body! i’m a married man y’know~” 

nanami looks like he has eaten something sour. unlike you, nanami’s attitude towards gojo has not softened as the years passed.

“i’m surprised she’s still with you.” utahime snickers. “she’s a sensible woman and you’re–” 

satoru frowns at her statement.  he’d never thought about how you felt about his behavior. perhaps that was his fatal flaw. gojo satoru had a nasty streak of negligence. and the last time he failed to notice someone dear to him —   

“well i’m glad she ended up choosing me, yeah?” his frown is quickly covered up by the wide smirk on his face. he leans back on his chair that’s starting to feel less comfortable by the second. the chair creaks under the weight of his body. honestly, how old are these old wooden things? “as much as i’d like to keep chatting about my lovely wife, i’d like to get this meeting over with so i can see her again.”

the rest of the meeting ensues as usual.

“sensei has been weird… right?” itadori offers his hand after knocking megumi down during a sparring match. the black haired boy grunts as he is pulled up.

“if by weird, you mean normal.” megumi glances back at you and gojo who are watching intently at the first and second years practicing close combat on the training field. it was a bit peculiar to see satoru not throw himself all over you. gojo without pda is like a jigsaw puzzle missing its most essential piece, leaving the overall picture incomplete and lacking the electrifying energy that defines his existence. 

“i feel like i should be happy, but it’s unsettling to see him not initiating some misconduct. do you think they’re fighting?” nobara is panting on the grassy floor. she raises her hand in surrender when maki leaps in to take her head off with a spear.

maki retracts her blade, turning back to observe you and gojo, “nah, gojo would fold at her command.” 

“salmon.”

from across the training field, you turn to your husband nervously, “why are they staring at us?”

satoru hums, his blindfolded gaze focuses on the field in front of you, “hm, maybe they’re admiring their very beautiful [name] sensei.” the blindfolded man pauses. compliments should still be okay– right? satoru can’t imagine a life without lavishing you with love, yet he will content himself with gently sprinkling you with affection. 

you smack his shoulder playfully. to your surprise, your husband doesn’t reciprocate with some form of physical affection. you tilt your head, perplexed. 

quickly dismissing it, you yell at your students to continue their training.

you don’t notice the way satoru clenches his fists, keeping his eyes trained anywhere but you.

the next time satoru is tempted by your presence is when he comes back home after a mission. it was a walk in the park, but the heavy stack of paperwork that followed it had depleted his energy. all he wanted was to snuggle in bed with his wife, selfishly keeping you all to himself.

and you’re not making it easier to resist with the way you warmly greet him with a smile in nothing but a small cotton tee and those tiny pajama shorts. eyes up, eyes up, eyes up, satoru mentally chants.

he thinks he might actually die.

“toru!” you abandon the book you had been reading to pay your husband taxes (kisses that satoru demands he must have). “you’re home awfully late.”

“mission… paperwork,” his clipped response is mumbled as he hurries past you and to your shared bathroom, avoiding your touch. satoru silently prays to the heavens that you don’t notice his suspicious efforts as he makes his way to take a much needed ice cold shower.

you stand in your spot in confusion, letting your husband go. slowly, you start to connect the pieces of satoru’s strange behavior from his refusal to touch you to his sudden responsible disposition. gojo satoru never does paperwork– not unless you bribe him with a dozen kisses. speaking of kisses, you don’t even remember the last time he had demanded one. something was definitely wrong. 

without missing a beat, you quickly follow your lover’s trail into the bathroom.

to your delight, your husband had failed to lock the door. in the hush of your silence, you can hear the subtle rustle of satoru's garments.

his sky blue eyes go wide when he sees you walk through the door.

“toru… is there something wrong?” your voice is careful. 

the white haired man in front of you nervously laughs as he covers his bare chest, “geez, ask me out to dinner first.” 

“gojo satoru.”

your husband winces at his full name being used, but he puts on another mask. a faux smile plays on his lips as he shrugs. “i don’t know what you mean, gojo.” 

your heart drops at his insistence to shut you out, but you stand your ground. with sheer determination, you walk up to your husband, closing the gap between the two of you. you cup his cheek with a hand while you start to lean closer, your lips nearly brushing.

satoru shuts his eyes, inhaling a deep breath to regain composure. he even sucks in his lips, making him look utterly ridiculous. despite the dangerous allure of your proximity, he resolves to stand firm.

"you won’t even kiss me anymore! satoru, this is absurd. what's happening?" you distance yourself, seeking answers.

despite his towering stature, a snort escapes you as satoru resembles a mere child when mumbling something under his breath.

"come on, use your big boy words."

"i don't want to drive you away," he avoids making eye contact now that his blindfold is off. "i know i can be a bit overwhelming at times."

upon hearing his excuse, you snort loudly, “seriously?”

“seriously.”

“i can’t believe i married such an idiot.” you huff, wrapping your arms around his neck.

satoru pouts, “you’re breaking my heart wifey.”

your lips softly kiss the corner of his mouth. like it was muscle memory, satoru’s lips chase yours even after you pull away. you smile.

“for such a genius, you really are stupid ‘toru.” you flick his forehead. he whines and you know it didn’t hurt, yet you entertain him by leaning up to kiss his injury. “believe it or not, i married you for reasons beyond your pretty face and body.”

“you think i’m pretty?” his eyes shine bright as they lovingly gaze into yours. you take one hand to cup his cheek. he nuzzles his face into it.

“of course you’d say that.” you laugh softly. “but honestly, i’m offended that you thought i would ever be annoyed by your affections. might i remind you that we have been madly in love since our youth? i found myself captivated by your ability to love effortlessly, and the way you hopelessly pined for me for years? i knew i was a goner. that… and your bank accoun–”

satoru kisses you with an intensity that leaves you feeling blissfully lightheaded. lost in the haze of the moment, he showers the rest of your face with tender, wet kisses, and you stand there, surrendering to the sweet assault.

upon withdrawing, satoru wears a broad grin. "i was an idiot today, wasn't i?" you nod, breathless. "how about i make it up to you tonight?" he proposes, drawing you close. you are all too familiar with that feral grin adorning his face.

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