#twelve kingdoms AU

[nillabean]

[At Disneyland, on the teacup ride]

Eishou and Gashin: *spinning calmly while talking*

Sougen and Risai: *flying past, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

#twelve kingdoms #ono fuyumi #the twelve kingdoms #incorrect twelve kingdoms quotes #incorrect quotes #you'd expect it to be the other way around #until you read the scene where they're saving gyousou from getting stones #sougen #risai #Gashin #eishou #twelve kingdoms au

[fifteenleads]

Longing for Home

In Dion’s next life, he searches for the next ruler of his kingdom. But his heart yearns for only one person. A Juuni Kokki (Twelve Kingdoms) x Reincarnation AU.

Final Fantasy XVI | Dion Lesage/Terence | 2.5k | Gen | Complete

-

Part 1: Yearning

-

Dion's next life granted him a divine mission and an uncanny abhorrence of bloodshed.

The day his memories fully returned, his guts violently emptied themselves, and he refused to eat anything for days. The sages were all concerned, weeping silently as they entreated him day and night to no avail. Lady Genkun believed his sudden deterioration ominous for the new land he was to call home: the Kingdom of Ryuu was quickly reaching its last stages of destruction.

They couldn't be further from the truth, Dion thought, his now-frail constitution fiercely rejecting all the sins he had committed in his previous life. A kirin is a symbol of all that is pure and good, representing the hope of its kingdom for peace and prosperity for eons. Dion knows—remembers now— that he is anything but, as old blood weighs him down once more and whispers only he can hear drive him to madness.

Kinslayer, they called him. Destroyer of Twinside. Unclean. Unworthy.

Dion was no land's hope bearer. Ryuu's doom was more than certain.

Yet he refused to submit to the darkness that threatened to devour him. Such was the nature of the kirin, a being of light through which Heaven revealed its mandate to the people. So he clung to that same beacon, scattered prayers coalescing like fireflies until he recognized the one his heart yearned for, and the memory of a gentle voice broke the fever that had consumed him for days.

“Would that you were my master, but alas...”

“I will always be your loyal servant.”

Terence, the name left Dion's lips, I will find you again.

-

Calamity after calamity, yet life went on. The people of Ryuu endured, praying for salvation that may or may not come.

Terence was a soldier in this life, as well. He was the only one with memories of a past life, of wars and crystals and extinguished lives. It was all the same in his new reality, in a nation that has been kingless for decades. The Royal Ryuu had strayed from The Way, and the kirin was sacrificed for his lord's greatest folly. And Ryuu continued to pay the price to this day, as monsters ravaged the land in droves, emptying whole cities and driving people from their homes.

Last night, he had managed to let his parents escape on the last ship bound for neighboring En. They would at least be spared the memory of their son's inevitable death in the line of sworn duty to his country—a vow he knows all too well two realities over.

A new kirin inhabits Mout Hou, the hopeful rumors abounded. Ryuu's deliverance was finally at hand, at long last.

How ironic this all was, Terence thought, after they had fought for a world where no gods decided man's fate. Where mankind could live on their own terms.

Yet he'd do it all over again, if only to achieve once more the dream he and his liege shared, that fateful night at Twinside and beyond. Terence blinked back his tears, willing away fond memories of a prince he had loved and served long, long ago.

"Know that I do not ask this lightly."

"And know that I will do it."

Dion, the wind carried Terence's whisper, I will carry our hopes in this new land.

-

Part 2: Searching

-

Everyone in Houro Palace rejoiced the day Dion recovered.

Only barely, but it was as good a start as any if he was to properly seek out the one he yearned for. He was still too weak to leave Mount Hou; staying on his feet for extended hours still sapped him of what little strength his current body had.

It was on days like these that Dion sorely missed the weight of armor on his back, of his trusty lance in his hands. Kirin were forbidden from wielding weapons and engaging in combat, lest they are poisoned by malice and bloodshed. Another nation’s kirin disobeyed this natural instinct in order to save their king, only to nearly die afterward.

Dion was no ordinary kirin, however, and he was only determined to prove it—for himself, if not anyone else. He’d always risen to the challenge, no matter how insurmountable.

Many had come and gone in Dion’s first lifetime, who had served as the wind beneath Bahamut’s wings and brought him far to reach where he stood now. One in particular became a forceful gale near and dear to his own heart, and it pained him so much to have let go, to have forgotten all this time.

Now, that desire to see his beloved again grew stronger day by day, fueling him with the strength he needed to carry on.

Dion bided his time for the next few weeks, conserving his energy for what he anticipated to be a long, harsh journey ahead. He made his preparations with utmost urgency and discretion, all while avoiding the sages’ watchful gazes. He had to leave by the winter solstice, when the Reigon Gate opened for the annual pilgrimage.

In his many years on Mount Hou, Dion had never sensed the next King of Ryuu among the pilgrims. He had not understood the reason for Heaven’s silence back then, even as hundreds sought to ascend the throne and failed. Even as Ryuu fell further into darkness, its people crying in anguish to the gods that had forsaken them.

It only became clear the day he remembered his past, and he knew at once where—to whom—he must go. He could only hope Terence was well, wherever he was.

They will definitely meet again, Dion was certain of that.

-

On the day of the winter solstice, Terence embarked on the pilgrimage to Mount Hou.

Hundreds of caravans still crossed the Yellow Sea after all these years, the rough terrain steeped in dark miasma and teeming with wild beasts even more ferocious than those that crawled Ryuu’s borders. In his years as a soldier of Ryuu, Terence had received many offers to accompany those who wished to ascend the holy mountain, but he’d always refused every time, having no desire for the throne. Many of the pilgrims had made the journey more than once by now, fueled by ambition for honor and glory, among many other things.

Terence only wished salvation for his broken land. Nothing more than that.

It was all far from simple, however.

Would that he could return to his prince's side once more, Terence found himself thinking at times, when his fellow countrymen began to look to him for guidance and inspiration, the way he'd look to his own liege for the same a lifetime ago. He was no stranger to leadership at all, having served as captain of his troops in both of his lives, but the weight of the people’s hopes and expectations slowly wore him from the inside.

It made Terence understand the burden Dion carried a little more—and that it was not enough.

Perhaps this second life was indeed a means to redemption, to carry out a noble legacy that had abruptly ended before being fully realized. This new purpose filled Terence with a sense of pride and responsibility he was only too familiar with, giving him the strength and the will to carry on this uncertain path, and culminating in this journey he took now—for himself, if not anyone else.

Terence looked up to the sky, blue and red meeting gently as day slowly broke. He thought he saw the figure of Bahamut at a distance, as if his prince imparted his blessing from across worlds.

A smile crept up his lips for the first time in a long while. They will meet again someday, no matter how many lifetimes it would take.

-

Part 3: Coming Home

-

Dion ran.

He’d always preferred his real form—a single-horned golden steed—over his human one. Transforming came naturally to him, as did the gracefulness with which he raced away from Mount Hou, above and beyond the Cloud Sea, where there was no pollution, no suffering.

Where he was free.

His thoughts drifted to Terence once more, fondly recalling an afternoon from their youth as knights-in-training. Dion had yet to fully master his control over Bahamut when Terence wondered what it was like to fly.

Bahamut may not have had the capacity to scream, but the sheer exhilaration in Terence’s own voice more than made up for it. Dion reveled in his beloved’s joy, savoring the warm wind that filled his lungs and rushed beneath his wings as he sped up, all while Terence’s firm grip on his back tightened.

The memory filled Dion with renewed vigor that spread from his core down to his legs. He continued to run, galloping through an endless stretch of sky and sea. His heart swelled in anticipation; he was close—so close.

Dion plunged into the Cloud Sea, finally descending upon human land. Several caravans lined the dirt road in the direction from which he’d come. The travelers were no doubt flabbergasted at the sight of him galloping past them from above, but none of them held his interest save for one.

Ah… his eyes are as beautiful as Dion remembered, even as they widened in shock and awe and a myriad of emotions that filled his heart because—

“Terence,” Dion breathed out, “it’s me.” 

-

The group was only halfway across the Yellow Sea when pandemonium almost broke out.

“The Lord of Mount Hou?! There’s no way!”

“It’s the kirin! Ryuuki is here!”

“What if the new king is among us?”

“Finally, after so long! Ryuu is saved!”

Terence could only look to the skyline in the direction of the rising sun, as a magnificent unicorn bathed in pure light came into view. He’d never seen a kirin up close until now; it was indeed as beautiful and radiant as the legends have described.

That presence he’d felt… he didn’t imagine it, after all. Terence’s heart raced at the mere possibility. Could he really be…?

The kirin slowed down as it reached the ground, yet marched on with its head high in a straight path—towards him.

Heavy silence engulfed the entire camp at once. Everyone prostrated themselves on the ground, not daring to lay their eyes on such a holy creature. Though many of them embarked on the pilgrimage desiring the throne of Ryuu, they all knew at this very moment that the kirin had finally chosen its master.

“Terence,” it addressed him in Valisthean, “it’s me.”

A plethora of emotions flooded Terence’s heart at once—shock, confusion and awe, among many others—as he fell to his knees, looking into the kindest, warmest eyes that had long filled his memories and dreams from a lifetime ago.

“My prince,” his voice cracked as he greeted his liege, tears welling up in his own eyes. “It has been so long.”

Dion moved in closer, nuzzling against Terence’s neck. He’d always loved to do that when they were alone, their closeness greatly comforting after a long day in the field or in the war room. Dion’s long mane brushed against a sensitive spot beneath Terence’s chin, and he couldn’t resist the tremble that overcame him.

A warm chuckle came over his beloved. “My apologies,” Dion mumbled, the warmth in his voice exactly as Terence remembered it. “You were always ticklish there, weren’t you.”

Dion’s kirin form dissolved in a flood of light, leaving in its place a thin, golden-haired man in white and black robes. The gaunt, weakened form did him no justice at all, but Terence immediately understood: his prince had suffered much in this world.

He immediately caught Dion in his arms. “You should rest, my prince.”

“I will, later.” Determination filled his liege’s eyes, even as he struggled to hold himself upright in Terence’s arms. “But I must say this to you first.”

Dion locks his gaze with Terence’s, his hold on Terence’s shoulders firmer. Let me do this, Dion seemed to say, his eyes filled with the same purpose that earned him the loyalty of so many through the years. Terence nodded and slowly let go.

Terence would remember the next moment for the rest of his life—his prince and commander, and the love of his very life, bowing to him reverently as he recited the sacred oath of the kirin: "I bestow upon thee the crown by the will of the Heavens. I swear never to desert my post before thy throne, I swear never to disobey thy orders. I pledge to thee my loyalty and protection and the promise of the Heavens."

Dion looked up after uttering these words, radiating warmth and joy and hope. Terence remembered his prince’s wistful wish from a lifetime ago. It was not a mere desire to yield or give up, but a deep, earnest longing for someone to stay by his side. For someone to be himself with, to be free to live and love with for the rest of their days.

There could only be one answer: “I accept.”

With that, the pact had been made, and Terence became the new King of Ryuu.

-

The size of Tankei Palace rivaled that of Whitewyrm Castle, but its design reflected a serene simplicity that was vastly different from the conventions of their old world. Dion found that he liked the scenery here, the gentle changing of the seasons calming his heart the way Oriflamme never did.

He had confided as much to Terence, his king, who was currently fussing over him in the privacy of their own pavilion overlooking the Cloud Sea. It had been all too easy for them to fall back into old habits, even after all this time. Way too easy.

Dion stifled a soft laugh at the thought, prompting Terence to look up from his teacup, “Is something wrong, my prince?”

“Only Dion, please,” he reminded his king yet again. “We are no longer in Valisthea. You are my master now in this world.”

Terence’s face immediately flushed at that statement. The effect had been more than what Dion had intended, but he would not content himself with that just yet. “I am serious, Your Majesty. It would be best for you to get used to your new position now before we receive the Divine Mandate. The denizens of this world take hierarchy and protocol more seriously than back in Sanbreque.”

They both knew well how the twelve kingdoms worked, having already lived enough of their lives in this second reality granted them. Even after everything that had happened and all the things they had done, they had found each other, despite all the odds and misfortunes and sins that tore them apart. 

It was more than enough to be grateful for.

Terence had finished considering Dion’s words, huffing in reluctant agreement. “I understand, Dion. I should listen to my Taiho’s counsel from here on out.”

“That you should,” Dion nodded wisely. “And in turn, I will always be by your side to support you.” A tender smile graced his lips. “Like I always have.”

“Like we both always have,” Terence corrected, gently kissing Dion’s forehead.

-

THE END

Overview of The Twelve Kingdoms

Kirin, as depicted in 12K

The pilgrimage (Shouzan)

About the series (Please please please read/watch it! You won't regret it, I promise!

#final fantasy xvi #flareknight #dion x terence #dion lesage #sir terence #teredio #teradio #twelve kingdoms AU #juuni kokki AU #eastern fantasy AU #reincarnated characters

[jeweled-blue-eyes]

Twelve Kingdoms AU: Lucas as the Kirin of Obelia

#moodboard #moodboards #dark #wmmap #who made me a princess #sbapod #suddenly became a princess one day #wmmap lucas #twelve kingdoms #twelve kingdoms au

[archester-creations]

sing with me a song of birthrights and love (yoi bb 5/5)

There is a murmuring as they cleaned after their performance two months later. Yuuri looked away from Yuuko who’d come to say hi with Takeshi and the triplets to the thinning crowd behind them. A few people had slowed to a stop. Others stared as they walked out. All focus seemed to be on a boy shorter than he was with blonde hair and piercing green eyes that seemed directed on him . Yuuri felt his heart stutter painfully at the way it seemed so familiar. This was the boy he’d seen sometimes in his dreams. He was sure of it. And for the first time since waking up in the rain, he knew they’d met before. They’d met the night he fell.

“That’s Kouki,” Yuuko whispered, awe in her voice. He turned to her in confusion. That was the name Minako had called Kou’s kirin, wasn’t it?

“The kirin?” Yuuri asked, just to be sure.

Yuuko looked at him and nodded almost violently. Then her eyes were drawn back to Kouki. The boy walked toward them with a purpose. He seemed angry for some reason. It terrified Yuuri to the core. But he stepped forward nonetheless. “Kouki?”

That had Kouki stop dead in his tracks, surprised. “You know my name?” He seemed unsure about his own question. It felt weird to Yuuri to hear him that way.

“Yeah,” Yuuri said. “A friend told me it. What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Kouki seemed incredibly angry now and Yuuri flinched. From the corner of his eye he saw the other troupe members send him a concerned look. He raised his hand to tell them he was okay. Viktor still walked over to stand next to him, which Yuuri appreciated. It helped him stand a little taller in the face of Kouki’s wrath. “What are you doing here, idiot? I’ve been looking everywhere to find you again only to find you within Kou’s borders performing !”

Yuuri frowned. “Because it’s where I belong.” Kouki scoffed but he refused to back down here. He was right . Though Kouki’s presence here in front of him and the feeling he’d seen him before told him he’d have to leave to wherever Kouki took him, he was right . The trees had led him to this group for a reason. Eventually, he stayed because it was where he wanted to be. In a world he didn’t remember, he found his place. He reached for Viktor’s hand and squeezed it. Viktor squeezed back. Narrowed green eyes followed the motions. “It is ,” he said firmly. “These people are my family. I love them.” Georgi let out a coo that had Minako rolling her eyes and Yuuri smiled.

“And you would do anything for this family?” Kouki asked.

“I would,” Yuuri said without hesitation.

“Fight youma for them? Die for them?” Kouki asked.

“I would,” Yuuri said. He almost had, once. With nothing but the certainty that he would die.

“And the rest of the people? The kingdom? You would care for this land, even in the muck and in the lowest positions?” Kouki asked.

Yuuri didn’t answer right away. This question felt bigger, and though Yuuri felt he knew in his heart what the answer would be, he wanted to think about it. He thought about what Minako had once told him about the heavens’ chosen ruler. About the trees’ tests. About the Nishigori family and the other people he had met. “I would,” Yuuri said and knew it was true. “I’ll do my best with the people beside me, if they’ll help me.”

“Of course, Yuuri,” Viktor said. Yuuri looked away from Kouki to smile at him. When he looked back, he straightened and met Kouki’s eyes.

“I’ll do my best at whatever you need me to,” Yuuri said. “Even if it means doing the dirtiest jobs or fighting. If it’ll help- If it’ll help the kingdom and the people, I’m willing to do it.”

Kouki tilted his head at that. Then he nodded to himself, a decision made. He bowed before Yuuri and Yuuri felt certain he could hear rain pounded against a metal roof despite the lack of rain and metal. “I swear never to desert my post before your throne. I promise to serve you and help you serve. I pledge my loyalty to you as long as you reign.”

There was silence in Yuuri’s ears. Like all the air had been ripped from the room. The first words were an echo of a memory that felt like a lifetime ago- but while then they’d been harsh and impatient, they sounded respectful now. Maybe Kouki had only then agreed with this decision. And if Kouki agreed, Yuuri tipped his head toward Kouki and this time responded without prompt. “I accept.”

#yuri on ice #yuuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #yuri plisetsky #victuuri #katsuki yuuri #yoi big bang 2021 #twelve kingdoms au #writings

[daglout]

#the twelve kingdoms #MY personal take.. #theyre youko and sugimoto but i dont want to draw rn im running on empty #anime only dont yell at me #au where they have smartphones and the heavens has wifi

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Thunderous

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Bang Chan

Word Count: 11K

Genre: Werewolf AU! Royalty AU!

Warnings: There are some elements of non-con in this fanfic. Please don’t read if you don’t like those elements. Mentions of knotting and rough sex. There’s also a lot of explicit smut and language throughout.

Summary: The Wolf King’s name seared your heart. You had been chosen as the youngest and most expendable daughter to be his mate. But you were terrified of the legends surrounding his bloody campaigns. How were you going to survive?

Tag List: @armystay89 @captainchrisstan @starseekersworld @melsunshine @kibs-and-bits

The Wolf King’s name whispered through the trees and hummed between the villages like the ancient stories of the gods.

Some of the villagers claimed that he could transform—bones cracking and teeth elongating until there was no man left. They said his claws could cut through trees and that his howl silenced the instincts of the mountain lions who cowered in their dens. In place of human skin, fur sprouted thick and rough, darkening until it matched the color of the shadows.

The myth and lore had been passed down for years, and you found yourself on the receiving end of all those stories. As the Wolf King’s future mate, you had also become something of an enigma around the kingdom. People looked at you with a glint of respect, bowing their heads and moving out of your way whenever you made your rounds. 

The attention that you hated. Especially when the marriage had been arranged without your willing compliance. Young girl fantasies of handsome princes and distant lands vanquished in an instant. But even if you couldn’t indulge in happiness anymore, there had been a time when you allowed yourself to dream about your wedding. 

Bubbling colors of red and green—like your kingdom’s annual yuletide celebrations—and a long, flowing white gown extending across the floor like an elegant brush of paint. Pure as you had always been. There was beautiful music in your dream, and a gorgeous prince to take you into his arms and glide you across the floor like the clouds moving in the sky.

Fantasies, indeed.

Instead, of merriment and goodwill, you found yourself trembling from head to toe, holding tight to the sleeve of your handmaiden’s gown as she escorted you through the recital hall, down the aisle to where you recognized the Wolf King waiting.

You had only met him twice before. Once, when you had just turned twelve, on the day your families agreed to meet over the prospect of securing peace between your rival kingdoms.

When you were both little children, the Wolf King had no reputation. He was just a boy, and you greeted him with a smile—ignorant of the true purpose of your first meeting. While your parents talked about the future, you showed the Wolf King your favorite flowers, handing him individual stems while your mother bargained your life away:

“A union is our commitment to peace,” your mother had once proclaimed, reaching out to softly pat your curls. “We think they’ll do well together.”

“Yes.” But Chan’s mother didn’t seem convinced. She was an elegant and beautiful woman with long black hair and bright red eyes to match his defining features. “Chan will decide who he wants to marry,” his mother said.

“Y/N will make a good wife when she comes of age,” your mother insisted. “We’ll hire the best teachers to ensure that she is prepared for her duties.”

“That matters little to us,” Chan’s father spoke, and he regarded you like one might grimace at an annoying ant to step on.

You shied away from his intimidating stare, looking instead at Chan as he designed a flower crown for you, placing it on top of your head with a proud smile.

It was the last time he would ever show such kindness.

Over the years proceding your first meeting, Chan became a man, and his reputation for ruthlessness and fury ignited a storm of gossip. 

“The Wolf King stands taller than the gods!”

“The Wolf King slaughtered a village because they refused to bow down to him!”

“He’s a monster! Have mercy on us all!”

You became terrified at any mention of the Wolf King, wondering if your parents were still serious about a union. You found out the hard way when your mother invited the Wolf King and his generals to your kingdom. But you didn’t stick around for very long.

The next time you met, you were sixteen, and you ran away to the gardens in a rare show of rebellion against your parents who had expected you to dress pretty and show off for Chan.

But that wasn’t in your nature, and your instincts screamed at you to avoid the Wolf King. And you thought that you were alone in the forest. Surrounded by the quiet of the thick foliage. But then you heard the bushes move, and you noticed a large black head peering at you with piercing red eyes.

You relaxed when you realized that it was just a common wolf—probably one from the mountain packs, and you weren’t frightened. Animals had always held a special place in your heart, and you approached the wolf with palms upturned to show your peaceful intentions. The wolf never moved, and you stroked your fingers through the coarse fur on his head. 

You returned home that evening thinking your father would scold you for running off like that. But you were instead warmly greeted by your parents who were both ecstatic. “He agreed to marry you, Y/N!” your mother exclaimed. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

It wasn’t.

Not at all.

And you had never experienced real fear in your entire life. But walking down the aisle in the chapel to where the fearless Wolf King waited for you, there was a bone-chilling tremble aching down your spine.

“So beautiful,” you heard faint whispers join together, urging you closer and closer to the Wolf King who gazed at you with the most intense stare you had ever received.

When you were within earshot, the Wolf King snatched your hand from the poor handmaiden who had been helping you walk down the aisle.

The girl quickly jumped to the side, bowing her head as the Wolf King forced you to stand in front of him, reaching down for your other hand. You reluctantly gave it to him, still looking at everything except for the Wolf King’s eyes, even if the little growl he gave showed that he disapproved.

You could hear your mother’s chastising voice in your head, scolding you for not pleasing the King. But you didn’t care anymore. Wasn’t it enough that you were standing there, giving your life away to a monster?

In the distant background, you could hear the priest delivering his lines, and when it was your turn, you gave your vow of allegiance, even if the words fell hot like acid from your unwilling tongue.

Thankfully, the ceremony did not require you to kiss him, dodging his wayward lips when they fell too close to yours. 

There was a rush when the proceedings concluded, the firm ushering of hands leading you out of the chapel. You stumbled in your heels, bringing yourself inadvertently closer to the Wolf King who held tighter to your waist. You did not enjoy the closeness, swallowing down your nerves as you tried not to think about what came next.

The crowd eventually parted, giving you enough space to walk down the steps in the open air, briefly acknowledging the cheering crowd spread through the streets. There was a distinct awe in the noise from the people around you, clambering over one another to get a good like at yourself and the predator who would soon claim you for his own. Wanting to acquaint themselves with your kingdom’s bargaining chip—a small sacrifice to ensure an alliance between your people and the ones who fought under Chan’s domain.

On paper, it seemed like a worthy solution to helping your kingdom protect its borders and fight off invaders. The problem was that you felt the weight of pleasing a man you had no interest in—someone who frightened you to your core. A sick knot tightened in your guts and your stomach clenched tighter as Chan led you to Castle Miroh—the notorious landmark of his territory symbolizing the power of the ruling family.

As the main doors parted, you winced at the sensation of the cold and harsh air inside, and a shiver passed down your spine as you forced yourself to keep up with Chan’s incessant pace, footsteps clacking against marble. It was dark in the corridors, and the only lighting came from the flames ensconced along the walls, casting everything in shadows. Ahead in the distance, you could see the outline of a grand staircase, and your eyes worked tirelessly to mark each step on your darkened path.

It turned out that Chan kept his quarters on the highest floor, latching your fingers together the entire time, even as you forced down the bile permanently hitched at the back of your throat at the thought of all the blood that had stained those hands. 

At the top of the staircase, you were pulled to the left, marching down an impressive corridor with a soft, velvet carpet beneath your soles. Eventually, you found yourself in front of a large, wooden door, and Chan ushered you through the frame, a hand to your lower back as your eyes paused on the King-sized bed waiting beneath an unholy painting of a bloody battle scene.

You will present yourself to the Wolf King, you recalled the words of your tutor. He will expect obedience from his mate.

You blinked away tears, knowing what you were expected to do next, and deciding to push through your nerves before you lost the contents of your stomach on the floor. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to run, but you ignored your instincts, loosening the straps of your dress to allow it to pool into a mess on the floor at your feet, and kicking it aside as you eliminated the remaining distance to the bed. 

You didn’t want to show him that you were weak. That he had any sort of influence that might condemn you a coward. You could not be seen as pathetic in the eyes of a monster, crawling on hands and knees to the center of the bed, head ducked down between your trembling arms and waiting.

Your breath caught when the bed dipped beneath his weight, and you gritted your teeth, feeling his hands take your hips with a powerful grip, nails digging into the soft skin.

The Wolf King will fuck you, your tutor had said, Then he will bite you to complete the mating ritual.

You had seen the Wolf King’s teeth. Sharp like razors and pointed at the ends. You would be a bloody mess at the end of this, but no one could ever accuse you of shirking your responsibilities. You had done everything expected of you, holding on to this thought of solace as you waited for him to take his fill.

“Don’t,” he abruptly whispered, startling you as he laid down on the mattress at your side, closing his eyes and letting out a grumble, completely unbothered with his own nakedness. 

It must’ve happened while you were turned away, but it was still jarring to see so much pale skin on display, marred with jagged scars and scarlet bruises. Eyes trailing over the swell of his chest, over the ridges of his abs, and down to this impressive cock. 

You swallowed hard. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

“No,” Chan said, chest deflating. “You do not want that.”

His response surprised you, and you wanted nothing more than to hurriedly tuck the sheet around your body to hide you from him. “I thought you were meant to-”

“We are equals,” Chan interrupted with a much firmer tone. “And you are afraid.”

Equals? The word didn’t seem right coming from him, but you weren’t about to question what was seemingly amounting to an act of mercy. Quick as a flash, you had the sheet bundled against your chest, eyes wide as you looked him over. “The mating-”

“We can do the bite,” Chan continued as if he didn’t care that he wasn’t fulfilling the only purpose you had been given. “But in the morning. The celebrations earlier exhausted me. Such frivolous trivialities.”

“Won’t they notice-”

“Who are they?” Chan barked with a hint of a growl that had you flinching. “There is no one who orders the King around.”

His dark pupils met yours in the dark, searching for something. You swallowed hard, unsure what he was looking for, but focusing on the calming sensation of relief flooding your system at his unexpected mercy. “Thank you.”

He gave a curt nod, dipping his head to the space next to him. “Sleep.”

You obeyed, wondering if you could sleep next to him, even if he had shown you some degree of kindness. It still didn’t erase his bloody reputation, and it worried you to no end that you would be sleeping next to a killer. Born to fight his way to power and rule over his kind. 

You took a deep breath, holding tight to the sheet, and closing your eyes. Perhaps it was the roller coaster of emotions weighing down on you from the day’s events, but you did manage to find sleep, even if it was troubled. Nightmares of wolves following you through the woods, red irises piercing you from the shelter of the trees, and claws slicing through flesh. 

You gasped when your eyes sprung open against an onslaught of bright, morning light, heart palpitating in your chest when you met those same eyes looking down at you from above. Chan was a step ahead of you as if he could predict your movements, grabbing your hands in one of his own to hold them above your head. One of his powerful thighs slung across your lower body, holding you in place with a strength that ignited a fire of burning adrenaline. 

“Hold still,” he said, giving you no other warning before teeth sank into the side of your neck, and your body panicked, fighting against him. Like he might take a chunk out of your neck and leave you on the bed to bleed out. Crimson against the cream-colored sheets. 

Immediately, a pulsating shock erupted from the site of the wound, forcing a scream from between your lips at the overwhelming pain. “I know,” he said, and it was barely discernible over the sounds of your cries, unashamed to lose all inhibitions at the sensation of a pain you had never experienced before.

The Wolf King moved over top of you, and you flinched when you felt his tongue start to lap at the painful bite mark on your shoulder. “The pain will stop soon,” he said. “I’m sorry you have to suffer.”

You held back a whine, digging your nails into the soft flesh of your palms. You supposed he had helped the sting, but it still felt like a piece of glass was being sliced across your skin. Even if the guilt and remorse in his gaze were almost enough to distract you.

“Relax,” he soothed, releasing your hands which instinctively went to wipe at your eyes, drying the salty wetness that had accumulated. 

“I- I can’t...”

“You can because you are mine now,” he declared in a tone that had a different flame sparking in your chest. 

You nodded against the pain, focusing on taking deep breaths, and letting darkness take you under once more.

When you woke again, the King was ready for you. He explained that you were needed in the Throne Room to meet some important people. It turned out that the King had three brothers. They were all younger than him. Or so you had been told.

Their names were Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin. Feared and revered for their triumphs in battle.

Your Wolf King seemed proud to show them off, standing before you in an organized line: from oldest to youngest.

Felix reminded you of your own cousins, with his lithe figure, so much different from the King’s own bulk, and a head of flaming orange-red hair. 

Next to him, in the middle, stood Seungmin. Dressed in dark clothes that only made his already dark hair even more onyx-black. Bright green eyes appraising you slowly.

Finally, there was Jeongin. The tallest of the three. And sporting the same dark-colored hair as his middle brother. He seemed to be the most innocent, eyes wide with wonder.

“They are here to support you,” Chan went on after introductions had passed. “Call on them if you need any help.”

Unlikely, but you forced a nod nonetheless.

“You are dismissed,” Chan informed them after you gave your acquiescence, and you watched them retreat in the same formation down the hall.

In their stead approached a shorter man, dressed in full battle attire. Well-muscled to stretch the fabric of his shirt and pants, with serious dark eyes. “My King,” the man said, bowing once. “You are needed on the training fields.”

You flinched when the man’s eyes found your neck, likely noting the swollen mess that Chan had left behind. “I’ll be there shortly, Changbin,” Chan said, and he waited until the man was gone before looking at you. “The Castle is yours, my Queen. Feel free to look around and acquaint yourself with your new home.”

“I will,” you whispered, forcing yourself to stay still when he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“Tonight, we can eat together,” came his parting words, and you grimaced at the idea of sharing a meal with him. 

But the concept of sharing a meal with him was nowhere near as horrible as the idea that this place could ever be considered your home. What a nasty thought! This place was nothing more than a prison forced upon you because your parents were desperate for Chan’s allegiance.

“Why did he agree?” you huffed to yourself, spinning on your heel to start the trek back to your room—as much as you could remember. “Leaving me here as if I know where anything is!”

For months leading up to your shared nuptials, you had pondered the reason why the powerful Wolf King had even agreed to marry you in the first place. Neither of your meetings had been particularly impactful, and your Kingdom had nothing to benefit his own; in fact, your alliance was more of a detriment to Chan and his people—a burden that he willingly took on.

You turned the corner to the last corridor, grateful that you had managed to retrace your steps, faltering when you noticed something on the floor outside of your door. You kneeled to retrieve it, glancing at the writing and noting with a happy hum that it was addressed from the Northern Highlands!

“Grace!” you exclaimed, clutching the envelope to your chest as you quickly rushed inside your room, glancing back to ensure the door was locked before hopping onto the bed to rip the contents open.

Dear Y/N,

Congratulations on your marriage to Bang Chan - it will be a strong alliance for our parents and their Kingdom. 

I apologize for my absence - Hyunjin was unable to make the accommodations.

As you know, snowfall comes to the Highlands in the upcoming months. It will soon be impossible for me to journey to you, or for you to make the journey here. I’d love to see you and your new husband before it is difficult to do so.

Please write to me when you can to arrange a visit.

Lovingly,

Grace

You read over the letter twice before releasing a deep sigh. Would your Wolf King even indulge in such a trip? Perhaps it wasn’t even necessary for him to go. You could make the trip on your own.

You held fast to that thought, of getting away from your prison even if only for a few days, as you lounged around in your room for the remainder of the day. There was little to entertain yourself with, re-reading Grace’s letter over and over again, and sitting outside on the little veranda attached to your room to watch the clouds moving in the sky.

It would be another mercy to escape Chan’s presence if you were to head North alone, but you were afraid that you were pushing your luck, wincing when you heard the door to your chambers opening again, returning inside from your observation of the grounds to greet Chan as you were expected to do.

“My queen,” he rumbled, reaching out to hold your shoulders between both hands, a grip that was impossible to mistake. “Were you able to see more of the Castle?”

“Yes,” you lied through clenched teeth, only breathing a little easier when he released you, eyes dropping to the letter in your hands.

“What is that?”

“It is from my sister,” you explained. 

“I see.”

“She wasn’t able to attend the wedding,” you went on, saving yourself a bit of time as you scrambled for the best way to drop the news to him. Maybe it would just be best to try a blunt approach, giving him your demands since he insisted on calling you an equal. “I wish to see my sister,” you said, refusing to meet his gaze. “Before it is too dangerous to make the trip to the Northern Highlands.”

Chan grunted at your request, and you weren’t well-versed in his language to know what that meant. “She invited you?”

“I can go alone,” you said. “If it is too much for you.”

“I would love to come with you,” he said, disregarding the determination in your tone. “It will give us more time to spend together on our own.”

“Oh.” Your gaze remained trained on the floor, hopes dashed that you could leave him behind. 

“It will be nice to visit there,” he said. “I will make the arrangements. You may write her back to expect us very soon.”

“As you wish,” you sighed, trying to keep the disappointment from your tone, flinching when he grabbed one of your wrists. He didn’t seem perturbed by your reaction, and you watched as he pulled a delicate piece of jewelry from his pocket.

“Well?” he smiled, something that made you shiver. “What do you think?”

“What is it?” you asked in return, resisting the urge to pull back the wrist clasped between his scarred fingers. Even if you did manage to finally meet his gaze.

“It is a gift for you,” Chan said with a smile you were not expecting—blinding and warm. “I made it myself.”

“You made this?”

“As our traditions dictate,” he agreed, keeping a firm hold on your wrist to clasp the little bracelet around your delicate flesh. “It is meant to show our bond to the world.”

You studied it curiously, noting the simple design and the small wolf-shaped carvings engraved in the metal. It was cold against your skin, even as the heat from his body balanced it out.

“Shall we eat?”

He dropped your wrist, and you were able to gather your bearings. “Of course.” You managed a nod, watching as he opened the door wide, allowing a small servant girl to enter the room.

The girl offered you both a respectful bow before she started to set the table, laying out silverware and fine china plates. Behind her, another girl rolled in a cart, wheels squealing on the floor, with prepared food steaming from beneath metal lids. 

“Here, sit with me,” Chan said, patting the space on the bed next to him. “Until they are ready.”

You obeyed, sitting down next to him. Your gaze remained trained on the servant girls, moving about in a well-rehearsed manner as if they had done this too many times to count. 

He reached for your hand, and you did your best not to flinch. “Look,” he whispered, urging you to follow his gaze. “This line on your hand, do you see the way it moves?”

You shivered as he traced the mark he referred to, following it up and down the length of your palm. “Yes,” you whispered, struck by the unexpected intimacy of the gesture.

Goosebumps followed the trail he left on your wrist, and you held your breath when he brought it to his lips. “The same as mine,” he said, almost reverently. Your eyes widened, breath hitching as he aligned your hands together. “A perfect match.”

You could hardly believe it, eyes searching back and forth, but seeing the same line digging into both of your skin. Like it belonged there. 

“There are reasons for everything,” he said, and you felt a small flicker of shame when you read his knowing gaze as if he could sense those dark thoughts that you sheltered about him—wondering why you out of everyone in the world had been chosen to stand at his side. “I wouldn’t question so much,” he continued. “The things that fall into place so perfectly.”

He offered you a wink, surprisingly playful for a man of his reputation. “Let’s eat.”

You nodded, the most you could, and followed him to the table. He was polite as always, allowing you to pick first, waiting until your first bite before claiming his own. You were content, at that moment, to answer the questions he threw your way, increasingly aware of the way the place he had touched warming and the mark on your neck drummed in a gentle pulse.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, and there was less trepidation in your soul when you lay with Chan to sleep. 

You journeyed to the Highlands the next morning, riding behind Chan on horseback, leaving the Wolves’ imposing Castle behind. There was a lightness about you as distance added more miles to your ride, growing brighter and brighter the further you traveled. Even with light conversation petering between you and Chan, you had never been freer in your entire life, the wind blowing back your hair as you soared across the plains.

Despite his repeated requests for you to take a break, you were determined to make it to your sister’s palace before nightfall. You wanted to see her outside, in the meadows that spread invitingly across the Highlands, and walk together just the two of you as you did as children.

There was excitement spiking hot adrenaline in your veins when the hills opened up in the distance, revealing a gorgeous mountain Castle with imposing towers and the familiar flags of your sister’s powerful family. She belonged to Hyunjin, taking his name and crest, and it made you sad to realize that there was a greater distance between you both. You loosened your grip on Chan’s waist, not realizing your grip on him.

You had grown tired of being around him, constantly blinded by the weight of his shadow. At least out here, with the sun beaming down from above, you could feel great relief from the pressure lightening. Perhaps there should be shame associated with your actions, but as soon as you could identify a familiar shape up ahead, you were already leaping from the horse despite Chan’s protests.

Thankfully, your sister was there to greet you, surrounded by two guards. Immediately, you jumped from your steed, falling into her arms and inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. “Grace,” you squealed, keeping her held tight to you as if it would be the last time you could ever do so. 

“Y/N,” she sing-songed back, and you smiled at her playful attitude, only growing a little despondent when you detected Chan’s approach from behind.

“Hello,” she greeted Chan with a polite bow. “It is an honor to welcome you to the Northern Highlands.”

“Your palace is beautiful,” Chan complimented, and you shivered when he drew fingers down the length of your spine—a show of affection that you would never get used to experiencing.

“Thank you,” she said, turning around to gaze back at it as if she were seeing it for the first time. “It has centuries of history.”

“I have heard the tales,” Chan remarked. “From when I was a boy.”

You tried not to snort, not wanting to relive any memories of Chan from his boyhood. Grace’s careful eyes, however, seemed to detect something, and she looked at you with a curious gaze. “Well, I can show you to your quarters.”

“No need, I’m sure one of your guards will know the way. I think Y/N has been waiting for some time with you. I’ll leave you both alone,” he said, even without your prompting, and your sister gave you a familiar smile.

“As you wish,” she said with a little curtsy, beckoning a guard forward with stern orders to help the Wolf King settle in while you and Grace took a stroll of the grounds.

You held your breath, not wanting your impatience to show as the arrangements were made. Only once Chan had started in the direction of the Castle, guards following him closely, did you exhale. Reaching for Grace’s hand, and tugging her forward.

“No need to drag me!” Grace chuckled at your actions, and she linked your arms together, steering you toward the familiar meadows.

You both settled into easy conversation as it always seemed to happen, topics flowing from one to another. There was a lot to catch up on, things left unsaid from your sad exchange of letters. Rumors swirling around the highlands, and stories from your own homeland that you consumed greedily, excited for any mention of your little Kingdom.

Even if you didn’t really belong to it anymore.

You wanted to walk forever, to keep going beyond the highlands. Escaping to a distant land with just you and Grace. A place where you could both live in peace and go about your days just chatting and reading together by the fireplace as you did when you were children.

She laughed at your complaints, forcing you to return to the Castle when the sun had started to set. Thankfully, you didn’t go all the way inside just yet, and the two of you sat down at one of the picnic tables in the gardens. As you settled next to Grace, bowing politely to the maids who brought you both a cup of tea, you frowned as you recognized Chan between the hedges, strolling along with Hyunjin, Grace’s King, down the trodden paths between the mazes. 

You did your best to ignore him, focusing instead on the moment you had with your sister. The setting sun was warm as you reclined your head, eyes closed as you accepted the gracious touch—burning just as hot as your sister’s intense stare.

“Do you have something to say?” you huffed. “I can feel you looking at me.”

Her smile was clear in her tone. “You just seem...different.”

“How so?”

“Like you’ve been tamed.”

Your eyes flew open at the comment, glaring at her. “Stuck in an arranged marriage, you mean?”

“Mine was arranged as well, but you can rest assured that I don’t take the same comfort from my particular suitor.”

“I hardly take comfort from the Wolf King,” you argued, but Grace simply shrugged.

“You’ve never seen things as I do.”

“What’s so bad about Hyunjin anyway?” you asked instead, to direct the conversation away from Chan,

Her smile curdled. “He keeps busy with his whores,” she said, shocking you with such an accusation.

“Grace-”

“Don’t.” Your sister sighed. “There’s nothing you can do.”

She attempted to restore her previous smile, looking back over your shoulder with a sigh. “I like your Wolf King,” she eventually said. “He cares about you a lot. I haven’t seen him take his eyes away from you once.”

Grace must be imagining things. “He’s tolerable at best,” you decided, earning yourself a sigh from your sister.

“My how your perspective has changed,” she remarked, finally turning her attention to the lukewarm tea in front of her. “You were kicking and screaming when you first learned of the marriage.”

“It is something that was forced on me!”

“But you’re not the only one, Y/N,” Grace said with a tone filled with sadness.

Suddenly, you felt chastened and guilty for even protesting her. “For us both, it has created nothing but discomfort.”

“I think there is potential in your match,” Grace argued. “You resist because you are stubborn in nature, but I think there could be good things for you if you just tried to make it work. Wouldn’t it be better, sister, to live with him as lovers than as cold strangers?”

“He is too wild for marriage,” you weakly protested. But your argument held no merit, and you hated the logic in her words, turning away to glare into the distance.

Night passed before your eyes, like the dimmest flicker, and you had never been more unhappy to greet the rising sun. 

It seemed that all good things inevitably came to an end, and you were holding back tears when you parted from Grace the next morning, holding the embrace for far too long. Even as you allowed Chan to help you back onto the horse, positioned directly behind him on the saddle, you kept your gaze trained behind you, watching Grace grow smaller and smaller.

Until she was gone.

Your heart was heavy when you returned to Chan’s castle that same afternoon, but your foul mood didn’t last for long. Distracted as you were, surprised by the bustling activities throughout the grounds, everyone scrambling for something you couldn’t identify. “Our moon festival,” Chan explained. “We will be shifting tonight.”

Oh, right. You had forgotten about that part, too distraught reminiscing on your brief moment of freedom with Grace. “I almost forgot.”

“There will be a feast tonight,” he explained. “We will both join as King and Queen.”

You scowled at the idea. “As you wish.”

Chan frowned at the comment. “You must be tired from the journey,” he continued, choosing not to react to your passive comment. “Feel free to rest in our quarters. I will come get you later.”

You agreed with a half-hearted grunt of acknowledgment. Sleep did sound like a much-needed relief from the exhaustion threatening each unsteady step you took up the stairs. It was what you blamed your disorientation on, barely noticing when Chan leaned in to give you a chaste kiss on your cheek.

That same spot burned under the barely-there attention. But you chose to ignore it, instead focusing on how your feet were throbbing when you landed on top of your bed with a huff, allowing tears to escape as you gave yourself a moment to purge the nasty emotions that had built after leaving the Highlands. Unable to do so as you rode behind Chan.

There were too many different emotions piled on throughout the day, mixing with a heady combination of your exhaustion from traveling. Countless thoughts also swirled through your head, and it was inevitable that you would fall under, losing yourself to the easy promise of sleep. An easier task than grappling with your conflicted feelings. 

Darkness greeted you like an old friend, and your dreams were wild. One moment you were back with Grace, strolling through the meadows. The next, you found yourself in an empty forest, shadows chasing each breath evaporating on cold air, ensnared by a pair of red eyes in the thick foliage.

You stumbled on the undergrowth, falling backward ungracefully. You only had the wherewithal to put a hand over your face, trying to block everything out, as those eyes descended on you. Fear caught in your throat, and it was the lasting image that haunted you as you jerked upright in bed, barely withholding a scream when those same eyes met you in the real world.

“Y/N.”

Chan’s voice was deep, guttural in its intensity, and filled with concern. You flinched when fingers came out to gently remove sweaty bangs from your eyes, heart thunderous inside your chest. His hand paused in its motions, and for a fleeting second, you thought you might drown in his stare.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “Bad dreams.”

“I see.”

There was a question in his tone, but you didn’t know how to provide an answer, choosing instead to gently push his hand away. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

He nodded, lower lip caught between his teeth. “If you’re certain...”

You studied him for a moment, wishing that you could confide in him. But there was still a great distance between you, perhaps put there by your own accord, but heavy in its existence. “I shall get ready.”

Chan allowed you the space, agreeing to meet you in the hallway as you rose to get dressed, finding the dress that had been laid out for you by the maids. You slipped the fabric over your body, shivering as the silkiness slid across your skin like a lover’s caress.

True to his word, Chan was waiting patiently on the other side of the door, and you hesitated before taking the outstretched hand offered to you. Unprepared for when it pulled you in closer, under the scrutiny of his affectionate gaze. “Beautiful,” he declared, nostrils flaring as if taking in the scent of the perfume you sprayed. 

“Thank you,” you offered in return, choosing to keep silent as he led the way, helping you down the stairs in your heels. 

For once, you willingly stayed close to Chan, especially as you approached the Great Hall where the festivities would take place. Chan led you into the dining room, perhaps a bit too hastily, uneasy with the weight of his people’s stares boring down upon your figure. Dressed simply in that white gown—pure, as you had always remained—and looking entirely out of place amongst battle-hardened soldiers. 

You caught Changbin’s stare from across the room as you sat at the head of the table next to the King. There was lust in his gaze. And it deeply unsettled you, to the point that even Chan caught your shiver.

He followed your gaze to Changbin who looked away at once. “Tradition says that the King can share his mate,” Chan whispered. “But I will not share you with him. So he can only look.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. So you didn’t say anything in return. “I didn’t know.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Chan stood, addressing the room. “Let’s feast together, comrades! We run together at the moon’s highest cycle!”

A chorus of cheers and howls greeted his words, and everyone started to fill their plates, easy conversation flowing between the wolves like the smell of the delicious-looking platters laid out before you. Still, your stomach revolted, swimming in circles as you picked at the helping Chan had served you. You wrinkled your nose when his grease-stained fingers brought a piece of chicken to your lips, and you forced yourself to take it from him. 

Chan sighed as you chewed, forcing the morsel down your throat as it stung. “I won’t be with you tonight, of course. We will likely stay out in the moonlight until dawn. But I will return in the morning.”

“Okay.” You shrugged, seemingly indifferent. Some time to yourself seemed nice. And you weren’t keen on being outside when they were no longer human. 

“You don’t have to be miserable here, my Queen,” Chan suddenly said, tone taking on a hardened edge. Perhaps the first time he had ever sounded stern with you. “Wolves mate for life, and they choose their partners seriously”

You contemplated his words, chosen ever so carefully. “I - I will try,” you managed, recalling Grace’s advice from the previous day.

To live as lovers rather than strangers. 

He hummed at your agreement, eyes glued to your form as he appraised you with something akin to curiosity. “Don’t roam so far from the castle tonight. It isn’t dangerous, but it is your first time. Of course, there’s usually nothing to fear in the gardens.”

There was a layered hint in his words, but you chose not to think about it too much, simply nodding your head as you resumed your task of picking at your food. There was nothing wrong with the offering in front of you, but your newfound uneasiness mixed with your emotional charge from earlier—it had not yet completely dispelled itself from your system—left an unpleasant ache in your chest.

As if something was missing…

Later that night, long after the wolves left the castle, you realized you couldn’t sleep even if you tried, listening to the chorus of howls from outside the castle walls. They rang through the night, loud and clear, and harmonized with one another as if perfectly in sync. Perhaps they were since Chan and his wolves shared a tight bond, and you wondered what it must be like to be so perfectly in tune with one another.

It was these thoughts that plagued you, and even as midnight came and went, you grew more restless. You resolved to walk through the castle, to quell your thoughts and ease your mind. Even as your footsteps echoed through the halls, you found yourself becoming more awake instead of the opposite effect.

Fresh air would be nice, you thought until you remembered the wolves outside. But then again, Chan did promise you that the gardens would be safe. You could trust him, right? Or was that the problem? Your lack of trust in someone meant to be your partner. 

You resolved yourself in that moment to try. And if that meant venturing out into the gardens, then no one could accuse you of being silent and passive. This was your attempt at trying, and if it ended badly, then you would have all the more leverage to ignore him.

However, despite your attempts to steel your resolve, you found your heart beating impossibly fast when you greeted the moonlight outside. Each lungful of air that you forced down your lungs felt like sharp knives attacking your flesh. Gaze swimming in front of you, footsteps unsteady as you entered the hedge maze surrounding the gardens.

You inhaled deeply, trying to find comfort in the familiar smell of the foliage. There was a strange air of peace surrounding you, and that was all the solace you needed to keep going, admiring the way the colors of the blooming flowers bled in a different light. It was easy to grow distracted by the sight, as beautiful as it was, and perhaps you could blame your wandering eye for failing to adequately identify the rustling of something large in the undergrowth of the forest. 

You hummed to yourself, leaning down to run your fingers over the soft petals of a rose. Its usual red was subdued somehow, under the moon’s glow, and you smiled at the effect, completely ignorant of a different red seeping through the hedges near your right.

It wasn’t until a gentle whimper sounded that you jerked to a stop, hand fluttering to cover your chest as you whipped around to locate the source of the sound. And what stood before you, as powerful as the looming mountains above the castle, nearly had you falling to your knees.

Except, you realized upon a second cursory glance, that there was something uncannily familiar about the beast in front of you, and it only took you another moment to make the connection. A gasp fell from your lips when you realized that it was the wolf from your childhood—the one you had found that day Chan visited your home for the second time. The one you played with in the gardens. The one you spent time with just talking and believing it was nothing more than a common wolf.

You stumbled then, recognizing the now familiar crimson eyes looking back at you—the same ones that belonged to your husband. The wolf, your Wolf King, butted his giant head against your outstretched hand, giving an affectionate lick to your fingertips.

“I understand,” you whispered, unable to decipher the emotion in your voice, but one thing that you knew for certain—there was a clear absence of fear. Because you had never feared this wolf, always approaching it with happiness, completely ignorant of its true state. 

The wolf gave you a meaningful look, and you were struck by the humanness of the gesture. Understanding dawned on you—Chan had always known. He had always known it was you—the one his wolf had chosen. The girl who had never shown fear to a beast that others considered a monster. 

You had known Chan for your entire life without even realizing it, and your eyes welled with tears, watching him toss back his head and release a spine-curdling howl. One that was joined by a chorus of beautiful melodic cries, merging and joining together, and reaching down to your very bones.

You dropped to your knees then—a mere speck before the Wolf. You cried without fear, and this time, the tension between you and your King vanished like the stars in the night sky when dawn cracked across the horizon.

Three Months Later

On most mornings, Chan was gone before you woke up, and that left you with a disconcerting feeling of disappointment. You supposed there was much to do for the King of the Castle, but lately, it made you ache for something you couldn’t quite discern.

For the past several months, you found yourself opening up to the Wolf King in ways you would’ve never imagined. The truth of who he was, the Wolf from your childhood, along with Grace’s well-intentioned advice, had managed to crack through the stoic guard you had raised from the moment you bound yourself to him.

He taught you about the bond—how, even if you weren’t a Wolf and couldn’t experience the same emotions, he could feel each flicker of happiness or stroke of sadness as it moved through you. 

You had not known of this connection before—because of your stubborn nature—and you would always regret resisting it. But things were better, and you could see the beauty in the bond and how truly spectacular it was to feel and understand another person so intimately. It made you wonder—for longer and longer periods of time—just how deep you could make that bond.

Curiosity weighed heavy on you, and your eyes cracked open at a gentle knocking on the door—an opportunity presenting itself when you recognized a familiar servant girl entering your room. “Good morning, Y/N,” she said, and you nodded in return.

At first, you had kept yourself closed off to the other maids, but this one in particular, Ivy, had been insistent. It was hard to deny her, especially when she became your best teacher, indulging you in learning everything related to the wolves and their way of life.

She was also quite willing and open to help you with anything, even if it involved the more intimate parts of your relationship with the Wolf King. You brought it up again that morning, growing more and more confident, especially since Ivy was completely shameless when it came to that sort of thing.

“I thought about your words from the other night,” you opened the conversation, watching as she put your breakfast down onto the table.

“You’ll have to remind me.” There was a teasing note in her tone, and you glowered at the playful look she shot in your direction.

“We spoke about the King,” you said. “You told me things…what I can do to please him.”

“I remember.” She took a step closer, and you were wary of the look in her eyes. “Does he not fuck you well?” Ivy asked, and her tone was absent of the same filter that would stop your tongue.

Still, you were embarrassed, looking down at your feet, wondering how to disguise the truth. “It doesn’t feel good when it seems like he just uses me to get himself off.”

That much was true as you had heard Chan masturbating next to you on countless nights, and your name often fell free from his lips.

“I see.” Ivy nodded. “He doesn’t know better. He was taught that a good alpha fucks his mate and makes sure that she is pregnant for him.”

You winced at her blunt explanation. “Is that all...wolves need?”

“Not necessarily,” Ivy said with a bright smile. “I can teach you...if you want.”

“Teach me?” you asked, gasping when Ivy placed a hand on your chest, forcing you to fall back on the bed.

She was all smiles when she crawled into your lap, grabbing your hands and securing them to her waist. You gasped when she started rocking her hips into your own, feeling the pleasant ache resonate up and down your spine. “The most important lesson of them all,” Ivy said with a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “The art of seduction.”

“I - Ivy...”

“Tell me, Y/N,” Ivy interrupted your ramblings, leaning down so that the tips of your noses brushed together. “Would you like that? Seducing your wolf? Driving him to the point where he can’t resist taking you?”

You moaned around your response. “Yes! Please show me.”

Her hips rocked harder into yours, and you could see white forming at the edges of your vision. “Leave it to me.”

And you did, surrendering to her touches, and the wicked way she showed you all the ways to drive a King mad. 

The following night, you bravely waited for your Wolf King to return from patrol, wearing nothing but a sheer robe that left little to the imagination. Sitting on the edge of your shared bed, you caught each breath as it rattled between your lungs. Nervousness eating away at your resolve and leaving the poor skin around your cuticles abused by your touch. 

Ivy’s advice rang clear in your mind as if she were there with you, holding your hands between her own as she taught you how to please the King. You blushed at the memory, hands covering the bare skin beneath your robe, caressing the delicate flesh as she had done the night before. Demonstrating to you the best ways to please a man, and to make him beg for you. 

That kind of power held its curious appeal, and you thought about it constantly. Wondering what it would be like to make Chan lose his mind to the sin of your smell and touch. You could hardly wait, bouncing your leg and jostling the flimsy material of your coverings. 

Thankfully, your Wolf King didn’t make you wait for very long, punctual as always in these recent times of peace in joining you during the evenings. The easy smile he always offered you vanished as soon as he closed the door behind him, eyes locked on your figure clad in so very little.

“Be assertive.” You recalled Ivy’s words, and you stood on shaky legs to take a few tentative steps towards him. The implication was not lost in translation. You could barely get out a greeting before Chan was on you in seconds, gently pushing you back against the wall. He pressed his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, initiating the first indulgent kiss that lit a fire that you felt down to the tips of your toes.

“Then have me,” you said against the purse of his mouth, tongue tracing that full bottom lip. His gaze widened perceptibly, holding you at arm's length.

“What do you mean?”

“Take me the way you want,” you replied. “I’m ready. You love me, don’t you?”

The intensity in that gaze you had started to yearn for burned even brighter. “You know that I love you Y/N, and I understand why it would be hard for you to believe. I’m more than willing to take this chance to show you.”

He pulled away despite the tight grip you kept on his powerful bicep. Even so, you kept your eyes open as wide as possible to enjoy the scene playing out in front of you when he kissed you again. You curled your fingers into his thick black hair, remembering Ivy’s advice, and pulled his mouth against yours, crushing your lips to his. Chan’s chest rumbled as he kissed you fiercely in return, grabbing onto your arms as his tongue plundered the hot cavern of your mouth.   

Your lungs screamed in protest, and you pulled away suddenly, shivering at his resounding whimper. You opened your eyes, keeping your hands in his hair to hold it back from his crimson orbs. You found the lust there, making his eyes appear darker.  “It’s so hard for me to do this,” you said softly. “I- I want to please you…”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Chan replied. He pressed his hips into yours and you felt something hard against your stomach. “Y/N,” Chan murmured, leaning into your neck to inhale deeply. “I want you more than anything else.”

You shivered as you felt his other hand come to the sleeve of your gown, slowly sliding it down your shoulder. His fingertips slid across your skin, weakening your resolve. His lips followed his touch, peppering soft kisses along the exposed skin. He tugged on the fabric more and you felt the fabric at your right breast start to fall, slowly exposing the flesh to him. His blazing eyes looked down at what he had uncovered, as his hand moved up to hold your breast in his palm. You moaned when his thumb started to rub against your nipple, growing alarmed at the sudden ache between your legs. Like before, his lips soon replaced his fingers and you cried out when he gently nipped the sensitive skin.  

He suddenly tugged the fabric back up, releasing your wrists so that he could have both hands when he grabbed the sides of your robe and tugged it aside to reveal your bare skin to him. Your hands fell to your sides as your chest heaved up and down to match each of your panting breaths. Clad in the lingerie Ivy had helped you pick out the previous night. 

Chan’s eyes were glued to your bare torso. With a moan of his own, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he trailed his mouth down, over the soft skin of your throat, down your chest, and between the valley of your breasts, over your smooth stomach down to the top of your lace panties. Looking up at you with hungry, lust-filled eyes, Chan started to tug the fabric down your legs.

Clenching your fists against the wall, you couldn’t begin to describe what you felt when he pressed a kiss against the front of your panties, holding your thighs in his strong hands. Standing back up to his full height, he pulled his shirt off next, tossing it onto the floor. You breathed out deeply as your eyes greedily took in the sight of his muscled torso. Timidly, you reached out a hand, aware of his eyes watching your movements as you hovered your palm over his firm abdomen. “Touch him with your fingertips,” Ivy’s words whispered against your ear. He groaned, bracing his arms on either side of you, moving his head against the wall next to your ear. You heard Chan’s husky voice whisper: “Baby, please touch me.”

Your eyes fluttered at his request, and you placed both palms on his hard stomach, moving them up and feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. Your hands danced across his pectorals, rising along with the muscles. You moved your palms over his shoulders and then back down, pausing when you hit the top of his pants. Before you could muster up the courage to move any lower, Chan’s lips were back on yours, kissing you senseless. You wrapped your arms around his neck, working your mouth against his, feeling your lips become swollen from his kisses. As your tongues touched, you felt Chan’s hands return to your thighs, lifting them so that you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his trim waist. Holding you against him, he carried you into over to the bed to deposit you on top. You missed his warmth as soon as he was gone and opened your eyes to meet his black gaze.

This was your chance. You remembered Ivy’s words and scrambled to get in position. Present. The command burned its way through your whole being as if you had no control over it. Instead, you turned on your hands and knees, arching your back and keeping your ass held high in the air.

You had never done this before, and you felt so exposed, but at the same time so good, so right, and you restrained yourself from trying to cover up against the shameless crimson stare watching you.

Suddenly, all went quiet, prompting you to glance over your shoulder. The Wolf King was staring at your ass, his mouth slightly agape. “Good girl,” was all you heard before Chan dove down abruptly to taste your dripping cunt, dragging his tongue all the way up to the source of the wetness leaking from you with a single, hot swipe, before latching on and sucking eagerly at the sensitive skin around your opening. 

You keened at the sensation and shivered at his satisfied grunts and moans as he took his fill of your taste. It made you want to please him. To do whatever it took to make him completely lose his mind.

“Chan!” You moaned out, reaching beneath him to flick at your neglected clit. “More!” 

Your demand did not go unanswered. With a grunt, Chan yanked your ass up higher for a better angle, digging his hands into the plush flesh of your hips. His touch was rough, and strong, undoubtedly leaving marks behind, but you absolutely loved it. And when the wiggling muscle of his tongue finally pushed inside, you cried out in absolute bliss and pleasure. Time itself seemed to slow down as that tongue relentlessly moved inside you, searching for that spot that could make you see stars and, once found, pressing down hard. Again and again, Chan dipped inside with his tongue, and each time you moaned for him. It didn’t take you long until your body tensed and shuddered, squeezing around the intrusion as you rode out your orgasm. 

With a satisfied groan, Chan released your hips, and you collapsed on your stomach, still aching for him.

You attempted to look back at Chan, groaning when you realized he was pushing down his pants and underwear, freeing his stiffening cock before crawling back over you. You were met with a flurry of kisses, on your lips, your cheeks, and your neck, before his tongue trailed lazily over your chest and down to the delicate curls damp from your release. 

You squirmed under him as he held himself up on his arms, dragging his eyes unbearably slow from your face and down to your toes. He moved one finger down over your stomach, and you watched it enter the forest of blonde curls around your center. Panting, and nearing combustion, you found yourself instinctively thrusting your hips up, begging him for more than just touches. Growling, he practically shoved your hips back to the bed, reaching down and jerking his thick cock with rough strokes. He abruptly flipped you over onto your back, craning his neck to look down into your eyes. “Let me make love to you, Y/N.”

His words sent a flurry of heat straight to your core. You had never had sex before, but you wanted it desperately. You told him as much and could see him visibly shaking. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, kissing your lips tenderly, before reaching down to line himself up at your entrance. You closed your eyes and winced as he pushed into you. Pliant and soft from his earlier ministrations, the bulbous head found little resistance as it breached your cunt.

You could feel his face bury itself into your shoulder, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the bedding, as if it was taking everything he had to go this slow. Once he was buried inside of you completely, you groaned, adjusting to the sudden intrusion. You could feel him still above you, and his teeth teased the skin at your shoulder. “Son of a bitch,” he growled. “It’s taking every ounce of control I have not to flip you over and fuck you senseless.”

His words, as crude as they were, only served to heighten your arousal. “Move,” you said, grabbing his black hair and pulling his face to yours. You kissed him quickly. “I’m fine.”

He needed no further encouragement, as he slowly pulled out before pushing back in. You could see the sweat breaking out across his forehead from the exertion, causing strands of his hair to stick to his forehead. His right hand moved behind you to grip the headboard as his hips slowly rocked against your own. As good as it felt, you could see he was about to lose it. “Faster,” you told him, and he complied, speeding up his thrusts and allowing some of the tension to escape his body. It was a little painful, especially when he let out a low growl and really started grinding his hips.

You could feel it building inside, the pleasure of his rough movements far outweighing the discomfort. You let out another moan as he moved in and out, feeling the smooth friction all the way to the tips of your toes. The Wolf King chose this moment to draw his hips back, dragging his length out to the tip, before slamming it back inside with a powerful thrust, rocking your body to the point that you felt your vision turn white for a moment. Without giving you time to recover, Chan repeated the motion over and over again, speeding up and adjusting the angle to relentlessly hit deep inside, hips bumping your clit with every smooth grind.

He grunted from his efforts, one hand on the headboard while the other came to grab your breast, his lips sucking at your neck. For your part, you arched your back against him, allowing your hips to come up a little to meet his movements as he hit even deeper inside of you, just barely kissing your cervix. Your fingernails scraped down the smooth skin of his back at this new angle. He moaned when your nails dug into his flesh, bringing his lips up to yours and you kissed him feverishly, tasting him like your life depended on it. One of your hands curled into his smooth black hair while the other gripped his bicep tightly, sighing happily as you felt the muscles move.  

You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to not feel overwhelmed by all of the things he was making you feel. Buried deep inside of you, you could feel him hit all the right spots, sending waves of pleasure to your tight center. Meanwhile, his lips were working magic against yours, leaving you breathless.  

You could feel an intimate warmth building inside of you the longer he snapped his hips against yours. Groaning, you let out a cry as you felt something inside of you break open, releasing wave after wave of heat through your core, leaving your body drowning in pleasure.  

There was a haze of lightheadedness clogging your senses, and you almost didn’t even realize the swell pushing against your ass, until it breached your core. “Chan!” you hissed at the combination of pain and overwhelming pressure, retreating and then swelling again as he ground that hot mass against you.

“My knot,” he groaned, and you could feel the heat from his chest against your breasts as he pressed even closer. 

You vaguely recalled Ivy warning you about this, telling you that it would be hard to prepare for the massive instrution. You felt a spike of fear as it stretched you even further, and you worried that your virgin body would suffer. All you could do was grit your teeth and bury your head into the blankets beneath you, feeling the swell of his knot pressed against the cleft of your ass. You fisted the sheets between your hands. He would split you in half, and then you would be nothing.

“Y/N!” he growled, slowing his hips to a timid roll as his knot locked between you both, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt his release flood your insides, filling you to the point that your lower stomach had started to swell from his cum. 

He groaned as you both came down from your highs, and you gently petted your finger through his unruly curls. He experimentally rolled his hips to test how firmly the knot was locking him inside and it wouldn’t budge. Your cunt squeezed the knot, eliciting another grunt from Chan, another twitch, and another spurt of hot cum inside of you.

The pop didn’t swell until Chan was fully seated, his thick cock barely able to seat itself fully between your pulsating walls. It was a painful stretch, of course, but you were hardly focused on it.

Chan continued to hump against you, long after his release and teetering on the cusp of oversensitivity, but those seductive hips had lost their rhythm. It was only moments later, as Chan pulled away from your lips and buried his face into your chest, that he growled when something warm filled your center. You let your hand wander down his spine, stroking along the individuals knots. You could feel him breathing hard above you, and you tried to soothe him back to normal.

You were locked together for a long time, and you were almost asleep when Chan was finally able to pull out, collapsing onto the mattress next to you, looking up at the ceiling. You watched as his chest rose and fell quickly until you could barely see it move at all, signifying his return from his high. Your own breaths came out much shorter, and you were aware of the sweat that coated your skin. 

You watched as Chan ran his hand through his dark hair, moving it out of his face. Looking over at you, he turned on his side and used one hand to bring you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist. You hummed in delight as your chests pressed together, moving in sync with each other. Chan’s eyes scanned over your face as he leaned in and kissed your forehead. “I love you Y/N,” he said. voice rumbling. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

You were barely coherent, collapsed against the sheets with a line of drool pooling out from your mouth. Closing your eyes, you let your head fall against his chest, savoring his warmth.  “I trust you,” you said softly, and you could feel him sigh in relief. Simply holding you against him, surrounded by his warmth, you suddenly felt very much like you belonged.

“You and I have always been destined,” Chan whispered, and for the first time since you had taken your place as his Wolf Queen, you weren’t afraid.

Instead, you were irrevocably alive.

#stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x you #bang chan #bang chan smut #chan smut #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #chan x female reader #chan oneshot #bang chan oneshot #chan imagines

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — KNIGHT! GOJO x PRINCESS! FEM READER

Gojo has devoted his entire life to protecting you as your dedicated guard. A greater force is conspiring to keep you apart. 

wc — 3.7k

tags — royal au, childhood friends, forbidden love, protective Gojo, sneaking around/flouting social etiquette, period drama-esque tension between repressed princess and rakish knight, mutually possessive, title from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

part 1 of the hand which holds the knife

Everyone knew Satoru Gojo was supposed to be yours. 

You claimed him the day you knighted him. He wore your colors and answered to your demands. The physical evidence of your ownership was all over him, the way someone would mark a well loved pet. Even the neck of his jacket carried your embroidery like a collar. To anyone with eyes, he was your adored guard dog. 

When all of your memories blur into one stream of consciousness, the day you knighted him remains clear. You remember everything, including your father stealing him out from under you. 

You were the only one who truly thought he was ever going to be yours. It was part of the promise you had sworn to each other as children, playing princess and the guard with wooden swords and flower crowns. 

Looking back, you can see the gears of court machinations turning. It was no simple coincidence that the only heir to House Gojo ended up in close proximity to you, any more than any other of your introductions to sons of highborn houses. 

Gojo has no interest in pretending to be a prince. It was boring for him to be trapped in restricting uniforms complete with epaulets. He found more pleasure in protecting you from danger while you preened in your gilded cage, none the wiser through his efforts. Safe and unaware, the way he liked it. You would never have to know how dangerous the world was if he simply destroyed everything in your path before it got to you. 

You didn’t understand the way the adults looked at the two of you. All you knew was that you couldn’t bear to be apart from him. You rose each morning looking for him, and went to bed waiting for the minute you’d be reunited again. He was your whole world, your one and only friend. It was his hand that guided you through childhood adventures. He was the sword and shield that had cut down kidnappers and serpents for you. 

The first wedge in your relationship comes with his twelfth birthday. 

You chase his back through the years, watching it broaden in front of your eyes. His body changes. His voice drops. The first time you hear it after the pitchy squeaks of puberty clear from his throat, you feel the sickening wrench of something in your stomach. It had never mattered before that Gojo was a man, potentially your betrothed. 

Now it burns you to look at him. He became gorgeous while you weren’t looking, all long willowy limbs and snow white hair. The women of the court have started looking at him now. They call him the beautiful dragon, after his house crest. 

Even though you know reasonably that you can do nothing about this, really, you have no right to, that galls you. You’re a princess. You’re used to being able to deal with things that upset you with little more than a nod to Gojo. But he can’t solve issues that he’s the root of. 

The only way to show everyone that Gojo’s devotion belongs to you is to tie him to your side. At twelve, he’s already the strongest squire in the entire kingdom. Better than most knights, even. It’s a clear path to being the greatest knight of his time, throughout all of history, even. He already promised to be your sword when you were children. All you have to do is wait. 

Gojo trains and you begin to learn the extent of your royal responsibilities. Study etiquette. Marry well. Become a dutiful wife. Give the king heirs. 

Gojo becomes Lord Gojo. He calls you princess now. Although part of you rebels at the idea that he would ever call you anything other than your name, another part of you can’t help the queasy feeling you get when he says your title, low and soft. Like he means it for your ears only. Like princess is just another way of showing how much of him is yours. 

Gojo is not usually a proud man because he doesn’t have to be. His abilities speak for himself. But he’s cocky to a fault. He knows the extent of his capabilities, which means he won’t capitulate to anyone. Why would he? 

When it comes to you, however, he bends his neck and accepts the collar willingly. The strongest can only be tamed by what he allows to tame him and it’s you, it’s always been you. 

Perhaps that’s why things turn out the way they do on the day you knight him. 

Or, as you find out later, your father knights him. 

It was the day after your sixteenth birthday. Gojo himself had turned seventeen three months and six days before. It was strangely old for a boy of his caliber. He was so talented he could’ve been the youngest knight in the realm, but no one could make Gojo do something he didn’t want to do. 

There was no shame in it, either. Everyone knew Gojo was too talented and well-connected for it to be anything other than his own choice. The only heir of House Gojo, he was destined to become a knight even if he did nothing to earn it. And he had done much to earn it. 

Winning wars single handedly tended to do that. There were already legends blooming from the battlefield by the time he came home and tossed the unlucky enemy commander’s head at the king’s feat. His bow wasn’t nearly low or respectful enough to be addressed to the king, but he had been lighter-hearted back then, more willing to forgive. 

Especially for Gojo, who had cut a killing swathe through the ranks of the opposing army so ruthlessly they began to call him a god of death.

Gojo kneels at your feet, his white head still high. He’s a little too tall for you, even at this angle. Lord Commander Yaga clears his throat. Gojo looks up through the wisps of hair that have escaped to obscure his eyes. They’re piercing, an attractively violent blue. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, so low no one else could’ve heard the two of you even if you hadn’t been standing alone on the podium in front of the king’s throne. “Am I too tall for you now, princess?” 

“Don’t tease,” you whisper back, flustered despite yourself. The pommel of the sword is clammy in your grip. You’re scared to drop it and accidentally take a finger off with it. 

You’re taking too long. It’s making you anxious. You’re distinctly aware of your father’s stare boring into your back. You’ve been sheltered since you were young by your father’s paranoia, but he’s recently begun letting you apply yourself more to your royal duties. You can’t give him any reason to doubt you. 

Gojo dips a little lower. 

With this change in angle, you can place the flat of the blade on each of his shoulders. It’s your father’s sword, too large and unwieldy in your hands. Standing over Gojo is a strange experience. It’s uncomfortable looking down on someone who’s been taller than you for all your life. 

You wish he would stop looking at you like that. His gaze is searching. You feel naked underneath it, even with layers of dresses on. When he says his vows, it feels intimate, like he’s speaking them to you. For you. 

Gojo rises, shaking his hair out of his eyes like a shaggy dog. Like this, you’re reminded suddenly of how strong he is. His shoulders are broad underneath his silver armor. Lean muscle cords his legs. There’s an easy, effortless grace to the way he moves - the confidence of a man who has never been bested in his entire life. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs. He’s still standing too close. If it were any other man, your father would have demanded he be whipped by now, but Gojo has always gotten away with things no one could. He ducks his head so he can speak directly into your ear - dangerous, even for him. He says his piece fast. “I’ll see you in your rooms, my lady.” 

Then he pulls back. 

There are thunderclouds gathering across the king’s face, but when you shake your head, your father relents. He smiles and kisses your temple as you climb up the steps of the platform of his throne to return the sword to him. 

Years later, you learn that the moment you leave the throne room, your shoulders sure with the knowledge that Gojo is finally secure in your grasp, your father takes up the sword you had held and knights him. Princesses have no authority to confer knighthood. Only kings. 

You know your father means well. He loves you. You’re all he has left. If Gojo pushed for your hand to be one that he swears loyalty to first, then your father would have been happy to comply either way. You just wish you would’ve known that it meant nothing. 

There’s a sharp rap on your door, followed by two short, one long. A code you had devised a long time ago. You pull open the door and Gojo all but falls into your room. He’s pressed up against you, front to front as he closes the door behind him, tumbling you into your bed. 

“Hi, princess,” he says, his breath warm against your neck. You squirm in his hold, feeling heat rush through your veins. It’s getting harder and harder to hide the way he affects you, but you don’t want anything to change between the two of you. Though sometimes, you swear Gojo likes using your title so much precisely because he knows how you react to it. 

“We have to stop doing this,” you tell him, like you tell him every time. “It’s inappropriate.” 

He groans and pushes away from you. You mourn the loss of contact. “Come on, don’t make me do this again. Who cares if it’s inappropriate? Who says?” 

“Dame Zenin thinks we’re too close.” 

“Dame Zenin is an idiot,” Gojo says. “You know she only says that because she wants to get rid of me so you’ll look at Naoya. As if you would ever, even if I was gone.” 

“Still.” 

Gojo grabs your chin in his hand. “You are a princess and I am the only heir to House Gojo. We bow to no one, understand? What right do mice have to judge dragons?”

He’s the dragon, you think. Your crest is the rose. You exist to be judged. That’s the role of a princess. 

Gojo sprawls out on your bed. He’s so tall he takes up more than half of it, even though your bed was built to be more than twice your size. His eyes are shut, his long white lashes soft. He looks gentle in repose, almost like a lamb with his coloring. 

He’s beautiful. He always is. You want to touch, to hold, to claim. You want to press your ear against his chest and steal the thunderous beat of his heart for your own. You want to press your rouged lips to his neck and collarbones, to mark his body with a muted rose. 

Instead, you sit stiff, prim and proper. 

He opens his eyes. “Come here,” he says, his arm reaching for you. You let him pull you closer. 

As always, he has to reach out first. You can’t allow yourself to take what you want. It’s not in your nature, the way you were raised. 

You bury your face into the space between his neck and his shoulder. 

“There we go,” he coos. Your face burns with the condescension of it, the way he treats you like an animal that has to be carefully coaxed closer. But he’s not wrong, and that’s why you let him pet you into submission, gently stroking your sides as he tangles his legs with yours. 

You were never so affected by him as children. Somewhere along the way, Gojo had become unmanageable to you, and you don’t know what to do about it. 

“Stay with me,” he murmurs against your hair. “Where are you going off to in that pretty head of yours?” 

“I’m with you,” you whisper against his neck. “I’m always here.” 

You’ve spoiled him, you think. When you were a child, you didn’t know any better. Gojo was just Gojo. Letting him stay by your side even as you got older was an indulgence that he now pushes the limits of. He’s never cared about propriety. 

“You have to go back to your room now,” you whisper reluctantly. You’re always the more cautious one of your duo. It’s been too long. Someone will become suspicious. For once, you wish you could just let go of your worries, but someone has to check Gojo. If both of you just did whatever you wanted, it’d be the ruin of your houses. This is how it has to be: Gojo pushes and you pull back. 

The dim light of the dying candles make his blue eyes appear black. “Give me something of yours first,” he says. 

You know what he’s asking for. You climb up from the bed and go into your dresser to search, turning up one of your handkerchiefs. It bears the colors of your house and your careful embroidery.

He kneels at your feet. 

“Stop,” you say, trying to pull away. 

Gojo presses a kiss to your hand. His lips are soft against the skin of your hand, temptation incarnate. Your fingers tremble lightly in his grasp, torn between wanting to seize him and wanting to run away. The enormity of your desire for him terrifies you. If you ever let him in for one second, you can see how easy your descent would be. 

“I’m yours, princess. Don’t forget it.” 

With that, he ties your favor around his wrist and finally leaves you to your room, panting like you’d run through the halls. No matter how old you get, Gojo always leads in your interactions. He plays with you, enjoying the way he can make you react to him. 

It’s normal for a princess to visit the training yard, you try to convince yourself the next day. There’s nothing strange about stopping by while you’re on your afternoon walk. After all, you should keep abreast of everything within your castle. 

Gojo stands in the center of the yard. He’s demonstrating one of his self created drills, a complicated set of maneuvers only he can pull off. In short, he’s showing off while pretending like he’s doing the class a favor by trying to teach them something. 

Lord Commander Yaga notices you the moment you set foot in the yard. You should expect it. After all, it’s his territory. 

“Attention,” he bellows. “The princess is here.” 

Gojo perks up and finishes his final set of movements even faster. He throws his sword carelessly to the side, leaving a young squire scrambling to catch the priceless weapon as he strides towards you. 

He’s a little sweaty. You want to wrap your arms around him anyways, but you restrain yourself. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” you say. 

Gojo grins at you. It’s a sharp thing, his smile, hungry and wolfish. “Not at all. I was just thinking of you, my lady.” 

You tilt your head at him curiously. 

Around you, the men are scrambling to line up into neat little rows. 

“I’m picking a squire,” Gojo says. “Would you like to make the decision for me?” 

It’s a question that shocks you. You whirl to look at him again, see if he’s joking like usual, but he seems perfectly serious. “I don’t know anything about knighthood,” you tell him the truth. 

He moves closer. You’re tempted to step back immediately, but you don’t. You don’t want a sign of discomfort to be misinterpreted and used against him. Besides, you relish the proximity. Seeing Gojo in public feels like dancing on blades. The adrenaline terrifies you, but you can’t stop wanting more of it. 

“You may not, but you know people. I trust your judgement.” 

A cursory scan of the boys in front of you reveals little. They’re all stiff and proper, their backs as straight as they can make them. Some stand with their arms glued to their sides, others fidget with their swords. Every single one of them is eager for the chance to be acknowledged by the princess. They’re equally hopeful for the chance to squire for the greatest knight in the kingdom.

None of them catch your eye on the first or second passes. 

Only on the third, a boy with pink hair smiles at you. It’s such a small gesture. But for a boy who had looked just like everyone else at first, the toothy smile splits his features. It opens him up. He looks kind. 

You gesture him forward. 

Lord Commander Yaga nods approvingly. “Itadori is a good one, Your Royal Highness. He’s one of the best in this batch. Naturally strong, but just as hardworking.” 

“See,” Gojo says. “I knew you would choose well.” 

He touches your hand briefly, slipping a white scrap of paper inside your closed fist before he grabs Itadori by the shoulder and hauls him off for further training. Although disappointed, the other squires still look starstruck to be in his presence, though Yaga disperses them all to train themselves soon enough. 

In elegant cursive, Gojo has written a time and place. 

You shouldn’t go. 

You can’t risk it. 

All eyes are on you and Gojo as it is. People already suspect the two of you of something unsavory. Courtly love is one thing, but you and Gojo are too close for an unmarried man and a woman. As a princess, your sole purpose is to marry well and bring alliances to your house. You can’t risk damaging your reputation. 

But every stolen encounter with Gojo steals your breath away. You sneak through the halls, quiet and empty. 

A hand slaps over your mouth before you can scream as someone tugs you into a dark corridor. 

You kick and lash out, forgetting everything Gojo has taught you in favor of blind violence. 

“Shh,” comes a voice in your ear. “It’s just me.” 

You bite him. 

He hisses and pulls back, shaking out his hand. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Why would you do that? You scared me!” 

“You’re not careful enough, princess. There was a maid coming up on your left that you hadn’t even noticed.” 

You sigh and lean into him. You can’t help it. 

He laughs. “Are you that happy to see me?” 

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll show you exactly how happy I am.” 

“Come on,” he tugs you out towards the gardens. It’s dangerous, but you follow him anyway. Being with Gojo is so threatening not despite his strength, but because of it. You rely on him too easily, trusting him to see you safely through any peril. It’s easy to relax when he’s with you, his presence the promise of security. 

You expect him to tell you why he called you here, but he’s silent when he tugs you down on the bench next to him. 

“Gojo?” 

“Here,” he says, opening his hands. A single crushed violet sits on his palm. You laugh, picking it up and raising to your eye. It’s all the more fragrant because it has been mangled, the delicate petals bruised. 

Gojo’s mouth lifts in a smile, too. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize.” 

“You really know how to win a girl’s heart,” you tease. 

“Hopefully I know how to win over her father’s, too.”

You freeze. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t wait any longer. I’m going to ask your father to be your dedicated knight tomorrow. Do I have your permission?” 

You hesitate, worrying your lip with your teeth, but Gojo understands. Years of watching after you, bandaging your scrapes that you refuse to cry over or avenging your honor after you pretend your pride hasn’t been hurt has taught him a lot. He can see right through you. You never need to hide when you’re with him. 

“It’s alright,” he says. “We can wait.” 

“It’s not that I don’t want you to be my guard,” you say in a small voice. “I just-” 

“I know,” he says. “But I’m the strongest. Who else would your father ask to protect you but me?” 

“Do you think he’ll say yes?” 

Gojo looks at you seriously. “I’ll get down on both knees and beg him if I have to.” 

“Don’t do that,” you gasp. 

“I don’t care,” he says. “You’re what’s most important to me. More than pride, more than honor. Can I ask your father for you?” 

You look at the crushed violet in your hand. 

Who else but Gojo? 

You press the flower back into his palm. “I trust you to do what’s right.” 

His eyes soften. He leans closer. 

“Gojo,” comes a voice. “What are you doing in the gardens this late at night?” 

You stiffen. The owner of the voice is drawing closer.

“Do you trust me?” Gojo asks, as cool and collected as ever. 

You nod, not trusting your voice not to give you away. He cups your face in his hands and ever so delicately presses a light kiss to your cheek, tilting his head towards you. 

“Stop,” he tells the man behind you. “Don’t come any closer. You’ll scare her.” 

“A new plaything?” Asks the Lord Commander. “I’m not so scary, am I?” 

Gojo notices you tremble harder. He lifts a hand to the back of your head and presses it gently towards his shoulder, obscuring your face even further. “Come here, darling,” he murmurs. “That’s right, what a good little thing,” he says as you press yourself into him. He pulls you over his lap, your legs straddling his waist as he runs his hand up and down your back. “Keep your head down,” he whispers to you. You tuck your face farther into the crook of his neck. 

Louder, he responds to Yaga. “The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard is a terrifying man, or so I’ve heard.” 

“Just escort her to her room when you’re done,” Yaga says gruffly. “I don’t need to tell you to be a gentleman, do I?” 

“No, sir,” Gojo says cheerfully. 

In hindsight, you’re still not sure if Yaga recognized you or not. On one hand, he’s known you since you were a child. He watched, a silent guard, as your father raised you. On the other hand, he’s never brought it up to you. 

The only other reason you suspect he realized who you really were was Gojo’s induction into the kingsguard the very next day. 

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

[buckets-and-trees]

Hoe’kay, I’ve had a thot 👀 Cedar Trees AU drabble + make it a/b/o 😏

This really just stems from this horny visual that won’t leave my whore mind: Steve scenting Reader’s throat for the very first time 😵‍💫🤌🏻🫡🫠

Oh! Siri!

If this man....

GOOD LORD

okay

So let's play with this.

If the Cedar Trees AU were an omegaverse...

So King Steven Rogers, strong and dutiful alpha... let's say he's come to his kingdom in kind of an Arthurian way, being chosen by destiny/winning the throne. He's beloved by his people. He spent ten or twelve years on the throne because he was devoted to serving his people, making peace for his kingdom, learning his duties, becoming the king he would want to serve if he weren't wearing the crown. He didn't turn the heads of anyone as a somewhat scrawny adolescent of unremarkable upbringing. Once the crown was thrust on his head, everyone was watching. He was always smart, and he stayed grounded. He also grew into his very remarkable adult alpha male body. (because duh)

Given all of this, he didn't let himself get distracted by the attention. He worked hard not to let himself get taken advantage of by anyone in or out of the kingdom while he was learning how to be king, either. He told everyone marriage was a long way off. Many people tried to argue that he needed to acquire his queen and establish his position with an heir for stability. He said there was nothing the existence of a child could do if there wasn't a stable kingdom for them be born into, and true stability would be achieved by him doing the work expected of him as a king.

Bucky, his number one, his right hand, is the one who assured him (and kept pushing him) that it was finally time to look to marriage - that at this point in his reign, there aren't any excuses of duty that he can make anymore. They discussed - because he trusts Bucky with everything and to keep his head right - that it needed to be a logical political alliance to strengthen two kingdoms, a smart woman who could even possibly be an asset in court and fostering royal relations. And she'd need to be an omega, but Steve both knew AND didn't mind in the slightest that he wouldn't end up with the much romanticized idea of a true mate. It was uncommon enough for someone without a crown, but laughable for a king.

But as alpha and omega dynamics do rely on primal chemistry at least to a point, after initial negotiations had been deemed suitable, there was a day planned for Steve and his delegation to meet you, your parents, and the rest of your advisors/delegation. This took place at a neutral location - another palace with friendly relations to both of you. Things began with a royal lunch, hosted by the king and queen of the land you were both visiting. A chance to break bread and everyone just share a meal and warm up the familiarity.

And then a royal walk around the gardens for the potential marital parties and a chaperone each. Does this sound formal? Yes. Because it was. It was you and Steve with Bucky and someone from your family following ten feet behind, and it took place outdoors because this kind of walk before final negotiations is solely for two partners to test whether or not there's hormonal compatibility, informal scenting, and if it's not going well, the parties are spared having that confined to a room, and anyone can make some excuse of a loose shoe, too much heat, being exhausted, etc, to shorten the walk.

But the walk with you is pleasant from beginning to end. The conversation is nothing deep, and neither of you went in for overly engaging, but it was the kind of conversation that he occasionally experienced with visiting dignitaries who didn't have business with him. Easy, natural.

It's only when he realizes that the two of you are almost back to the palace and he hasn't actually gotten the read on scent compatibility that he worries a little. He has to do something. Pleasant conversation was not the point of this walk.

So just as you re-enter the foyer and are about to part, he takes your hand to politely bestow a kiss over the back of it, it should allow him to scent your wrist appropriately but not overtly.

Only when he does catch your scent, he discovers that it was something floral that he though had been the garden, something so enticing that he holds his breath in that moment, and his hand holds yours a little more tightly, and a second or two longer than expected.

He looks up to your face again, and your lips are pressed together with just a hint of timidity behind the soft curving smile. You are trained - as he has been - to keep an open face, but one that doesn't tell everything. But he can see in your eyes just a hint of a spark.

This will work.

He wants to turn your hand over and truly scent the inside of your wrist, press a kiss to that spot of tender flesh and feel your pulse beneath his lips, that's how much your scent compels him.

But of course he won't do that.

The two of you part, and when Bucky asks if it's a favorable assessment for the final arrangements for the marriage to go forth that afternoon, Steve nods and affirms it.

He sorts his thoughts logically - it's just a very fortunate compatibility. The coupling will be compatible.

He has no idea the two of your are meant for growing together and sincerely enriching each others lives - that you are his true mate.

He still won't even believe it over the honeymoon.

It will be that period after when he realizes he's in love with you, and even being in love, it will still take more time - a few heat cycles and ruts together, and just being together for him to ultimately realize it. And then when he looks back, it will be as plain as day.

#cedar trees au #aspen asks #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #siri/stargazingfangirl18

[theloveliestembrace]

Let it happen. | CL

Charles Leclerc/Reader

f1 masterlist

crossposted to ao3

Summary: The five times you meet Charles Leclerc. (The four times it doesn’t work out, the one time it might,)

Warnings: Non-explicit (but definitely inappropriate) teacher-student relationship

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Reincarnation au

W/C: 2.7k

-

A/N: What’s good people, I’m back again. This fic was very cinematic in my head (it still is), so I hope the writing captures that. Enjoy~

-

The first time you meet Charles Leclerc, he’s a barista at the coffeehouse down the road from your interning job. It’s a brief stint in the industry as you wait for a university acceptance letter, so you don’t expect to stay for long. 

He’s sweet, beaming at you from over the counter nearly everyday, remembering your order before you’ve even asked for his name. 

“Charles,” he says, sweetly accented, “my name is Charles Leclerc.” 

That day, the flowing script of your name on the takeaway cup is accompanied with a ‘have dinner with me?’ and a smiley face. You picture him, eyebrows scrunched and eyes squinted in concentration, trying to write neatly on the curved surface, and smile. 

As it turns out, Charles Leclerc is also waiting for a university acceptance letter, to a prestigious place in the United Kingdom for the study of Liberal Arts. He laughs awkwardly as he confesses, “My English is not so good yet, so I am worried they won’t find me so elegant.” 

You bat it off as nonsense, pulling him in for a chaste kiss, whispering sincerely against his lips. “They’ll be foolish not to accept you, cheri.”

He’s a sweet relief from the bustle of your internship, where you’re surrounded by presumptuous old men and women who expect their coffee orders and bottles of perrier on their desk before eight. Your work in the fashion industry is not as glamorous a job as made out in the novels. The twelve centimeter heels you’re forced into daily pinch at your toes, and all your coworkers are size-zero hyenas, vying for a position. It takes all your energy to keep up. 

Just the sight of him, though, waving cheerily in the morning as you run in for coffee pickup, hands in his pockets as he waits for you to get off work, the soft kisses when he walks you home. It’s easy to get lost in this, lost in him , fingers slotted between yours and a glass of wine shared between interlocked fingers.  It’s a romance out of a metropolitan chick flick, something about finding love in the middle of modern day bustle, finding quiet in the loud city. 

Everything falls apart when you get your acceptance letter. You haven’t talked about the inexorability of the end, not really. Sometimes Charles will bring it up half-heartedly, and so will you, but the inertia to dealing with your very real future is too great, and you both end up kissing on Charles’ sofa instead of facing the truth. 

It culminates in one big fight, your fingernails pressed to draw blood, Charles bracing himself against the wall to prevent himself from losing his temper. 

And it goes like every other fight in the movies, things like i was always going to go anyway and why don’t you just fucking go then, if you have nothing to stay for , and don’t hold me back just because you don’t have the certainty of getting into your course, Charles spinning around and saying i already got in, i’m hesitating because of you and the pressure in your chest growing so large it’s all you can do to stop your tears from running. 

The movies lied to you. This is the part where Charles apologises and you hug and make up and you stay for each other. That’s the love story. 

Instead, you say, go then, if staying for me burdens you so . And he goes, your apartment door slamming behind him. 

You spend days wallowing in self-pity, avoiding the coffeehouse, running through the motions, thinking about the last ten months of your life, and make the decision when your hand reaches for a coffee cup that isn’t there. 

You’ll stay, for Charles, because you love him, even if it isn’t like the movies. Because it isn’t like the movies, and you’ll love him even when the post-credits have rolled. 

It is this that makes you run to the coffeehouse the next morning, forgoing an umbrella in your haste, soaking your blouse straight through. You yank the door open, waiting for the head of curls at the counter to look up so you can beg for a chance. Just one.

Instead, the older lady who owns the place, looks up and smiles sadly at you. “I’m sorry, kid. He flew off to the UK yesterday, he said you never called.” 

And again, this doesn’t happen in the movies. The main character doesn’t step back out into the rain alone, heels soaked against the pavement, nor do they spend the next week waiting for the love of their life to call. 

You hit reply on the acceptance email, and change your number to a local one when you land in America. 

Somewhere on another continent, a call doesn’t get connected.

-

On the sixteenth of October, the people of Monaco are blessed with an announcement. A prince is born, the news reports. 

Charles, they named him. Charles Leclerc. 

In another ward down the hallway, another woman gives birth to a girl. The royal family hasn’t realised it yet, but down the hallway, is their future pr manager. 

Your first day on the job is fraught with just about every roadblock you could face. 

At four in the morning, one of your neighbour’s ridiculous scented candles tips over and sets enough things on fire to trip the fire alarm. Management ushers every single person in the vicinity out of the apartment building, where you stand shivering in your bathrobe. 

A few hours later, your coffee machine breaks down before your espresso even finishes running. 

Then, five minutes after you leave the apartment to catch your Uber, your heel breaks, so you’re forced to change your shoes and foot the late arrival fee on your car. 

When you finally find the meeting room fifteen minutes after you were supposed to reach, you're very much on the verge of tears. 

You’re met with a frowning Charles Leclerc, whose expression instantly evaporates into fondness when he recognises who’s at the door. He stands to bring you into a hug, as if you’d been friends since you were children. (You had been, of course, but you didn’t forget that he was a literal prince. Hugs are not commonplace.)

It’s an odd feeling, standing in front of the boy you’d known from birth, tasked with covering up his scandals and manufacturing relationships to keep him in the public eye.

It’s even odder to fall in love with him all over again, especially while you’re both poring over staged Instagram posts of him and Monaco’s richest bachelorettes. But Charles is so— good, easy to fall in love with, like those princes from storybooks. He laughs at exactly the right moments, cracks jokes that have you gasping for breath, charms you so thoroughly it’s almost embarrassing. 

It falls into place like poetry, too many moments without supervision, secret smiles over the table, quiet mornings in the palace, hidden in his room. You pick up the closeness of your youth near flawlessly. Falling in love has never been this easy. 

(It’ll never be this easy again.)

The end comes knocking in the form of his mother. Marriage. You almost choke on the enormity of it, caught in the noose of your own stupidity. Because that is your job, isn’t it? The prince is almost thirty, you are almost thirty, and this has always been the final point, of your job, of his scripted relationships. 

You don’t even fight, which is kind of the worst part. A choice is presented to Charles, and he chooses.

It’s a special kind of cruelty, to stay. To sit with the photographers and videographers and event crew and wedding planner, poring over fabrics and angles, as if it’s your fucking honour to plan what’s set to be the greatest union in Monaco for the next decade. 

You were wrong. The worst part is standing at the fringes, in your blue dress, watching the love of your life slide a ring onto another finger and speak the vows that were meant for youyouyou . The worst part is knowing the photos will be beautiful, because you planned them yourself. 

The worst part is knowing there is no universe where he chooses you.  

-

Your new French Literature professor is… really fucking hot. You’re not just saying this because he’s a decade older than you, or because he’s at least three decades younger than the guy who used to teach the class. He’s just, objectively of course, a really attractive man. 

The way his accent rolls off his tongue when he says “Charles, my name is Charles Leclerc.” definitely doesn’t help. In your periphery, you see the girl seated next to you furiously typing on her phone, with caps and exclamation marks and sweating emojis. You can’t even blame her. 

And it’s almost criminally obvious, the way he looks at you, eyes darting to your open polo, the way he lingers on the syllables of your name when he calls on you to answer in class. 

It’s subtle enough to not warrant any accusations of misconduct, but not subtle enough to avoid the envious stares of the girls (and boys) in your class. You’re unbothered, of course, given that he hasn’t actually made a move, but also the fact that he wears his wedding ring all the time.

And if you start wearing tighter shirts and shorter skirts to class, just to see his breath hitch when you uncross your legs just so, well that’s nobody’s business but your own. 

It’s almost cliche, the way your little game unfolds. You make sure to book the latest possible consultation slots with him, in a cute ensemble and flawless makeup, toting a copy of Les Miserables as if you’re actually struggling with the material. 

It’s fun, to rile him up, watch his tongue slide against his lower lip as he looks at you from across the desk. You don’t typically make a habit of seducing professors, especially the married ones, but you figure it’ll probably make a great story for your grandkids, or something. He holds out much longer than you thought, so much so that the illusion of needing aid in your best subject starts to grate on you. Still, the sight of his forearms when he rolls up his sleeves, or the line of his throat when he sips water during lectures keeps you hooked. 

When he finally bends you over his desk, you’re almost disappointed that the game has ended. The imprint of his wedding ring stays on your waist for days. Your friend tuts nervously when you return back late, murmurs something about morals and regretting your decisions and something else you tune out. 

Un brin de folie egaye la vie, right? Some madness will brighten your life. You continue ignoring her.

It’s only after months of your routine that you can form the all-important question, perched on his lap in his (locked) office, “Why cheat on your wife?” And the room is instantly suffused with silence. You expect him to tell you to get out or something of the sort, but instead he hums thoughtfully, shifting you further onto his thighs. 

He’s silent for a few seconds, running fingers through your hair, “Why do we do anything?” You snort at the obvious deflection, raising an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. 

“On n’aime que ce qu’on possède pas tout entier. Proust says we love only what we do not have entirely.” You giggle a little at that, “you love me because you cannot have me?” He sighs against your cheek, “something like that, yes.”

In the end, it ends much cleaner than affairs like this tend to. You graduate top of the class, watch Charles and his beautiful wife at the ceremony, and laugh a little meanly at how oblivious her smile is. How he watches you, still, as you give the valedictorian speech, the smirk on his face as you thank your professors with false fervour. 

And then, one last time for the road, in the handicap bathroom where the bustle of the hall isn’t quite muted, breaths mingling hot in the stale air. A kiss, almost chaste, and you leave. 

Your grandkids howl with laughter at the story, nearly seventy years down the road. You smile, think about green eyes and rolled up sleeves. Another life, maybe. 

-

You’re still not used to the wag lifestyle. It’s one thing to be recognised in Monaco, another to be Il Predestinato’s girlfriend. It’s almost obscene, the red that greets you down every hallway, the way you bite your tongue and watch the team fuck him over every weekend. The way the crowds chant his name; Charles, they scream, Charles Leclerc. 

It’s not like you haven’t earned a place in the paddock. You’ve done the work, the pr activities, the carefully curated soft launches, the jet lag, the helmet kisses and the careful, careful styling. You’ll always be silent and pretty, always smiling and skinny and happy for him, existing to prove something. 

The point is, it isn’t that you don’t love Charles anymore. It isn’t that he’s neglectful and distant (he is), or that you’re unhappy with the constant scrutiny and ever changing time zones (you are). You can swallow these things, breathe deep and let it settle. 

Mangia questa minestra o saltar questa finestra; eat the soup or jump out of the window. Accept things for what they are, don’t hurt over things that cannot be changed. 

And it really does feel like nothing will ever change, watching the man you love turn into a beating husk, consumed with his want. A championship, a victory, draped in enough red to drown you both, a hundred years of history. Nothing will change, you will always be the girlfriend, the girl in-the-pictures. You can feel the shadow of Charles’ name as heavily as he feels Ferrari’s. That will never change.    

The championship is a hollow victory, when it comes. You and Charles have devolved across the year into a state of a perpetual tense silence, intercut only with the curl of his fingers around your waist when the cameras come flashing, and drawn out, passive aggressive conversations.

You begin to fly out less and less, blame it on the job you pretend to hate for Charles’ sake. Slowly, you learn to be on your own, find your way around loneliness, spaces within yourself previously occupied with your boyfriend. You toss about the idea of him cheating on you while you miss his races, and find the thought less impossible and less painful each time. 

By the time you see him again in Abu Dhabi, the Monacan flag wrapped around his shoulders, fingers pointed to the sky, you only feel affection for the man you would’ve given everything up for a year ago. The knowledge squeezes painfully in your chest. 

You reach for him in the cooldown room, wince at how unfamiliar his hands are to you now, look him in the eyes, “It’s been over for a long time, hasn’t it, cheri?” Tears rise unbidden within you when he nods, eyes wet. You clasp his hands tighter, relish the feeling of his fingers against yours one more time, “I want you to remember the best parts of us,” you sniffle lightly, attempt a smile, “not the end. I want you to remember that I am always proud of you.”

The room is quiet. He leans against your shoulder, for a moment you are both twenty-one again, guileless. The enormity of what you are losing has settled in your bones. 

The soup is unassuming on the table. You choose the free fall from the window. 

-

The new doctor is cute, in a puppyish sort of way. Charles watches the way you interact with all your new coworkers, smiling and shaking hands, the way you laugh at a joke Max just made. 

You come up in front of him, and falter, tilting your head like a startled animal. “Have we met?” The deja vu hits him so hard his head spins, shaking his head at your question anyway. 

He kisses your outstretched hand, soft under his lips, revels briefly in your furious blushing. His mother likes to tell him; doctors only date other doctors. He intends to test the theory.

“My name is Charles,” he says, “Charles Leclerc.”

#f1 angst #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut

[nillabean]

Eishou: New rule. No dumb shit until I've had some coffee.

Gashin: But you don't drink coffee.

Eishou: I said what I said.

#twelve kingdoms #the twelve kingdoms #ono fuyumi #gashin #eishou #incorrect quotes #incorrect twelve kingdoms quotes #twelve kingdoms au #he doesn't trust gashin after he spread a rumor about him crying

[fifteenleads]

12 Kingdoms | Hanrin(Risetsu), Go Ranjou(King Han) | Modern/Taika AU. Showbiz.

-

“Over here, Risetsu.” It takes a while for Hanrin to realize she’s being called; she still isn’t used to all the noise, nor to her Hourai name. At least it’s become easier over time to breathe amid the heavy pollution, now reduced to a somewhat tolerable inconvenience after the first two weeks. She still keeps her face mask on though, more out of habit than anything.

She carefully zips up the back of Tsuki’s costume, lighty placing a hand over the girl’s trembling shoulders. “You look great, dear.” Hanrin nods when Tsuki beams at her, adding a gentle squeeze for reassurance before making her way across the room to her master.

Ranjou is busy reapplying Hoshi’s lipstick for the umpteenth time that morning while admonishing her not to bite on it to calm her nerves. He motions Hanrin to sit beside him, meeting her concerned look with an encouraging smile. All in a day’s work, he all but says to her. It’s become his personal mantra of sorts over years of hard work, even as more people left the team and his responsibilities increased tenfold.

“Anything to survive, huh,” Hanrin ponders to herself later, while watching the girls record their fifth take of the song. Apparently two whole weeks without sleep is nothing for those in show business, as well as for everyone else working with them. It doesn’t even take being a kirin to abhor how people could even live this kind of life— not that she ever says it out loud, of course. Not until they return to Han, anyway.

Amidst the backstage hubbub, she doesn’t immediately notice Ranjou taking a seat beside her. “Everything okay?”

“So far, so good.” Hanrin accepts the tea her master proffers, keeping the warm bottle close to her chest as she continues to observe the performance. “Say, Your Majesty,” and her voice carries an uncertain quiver, “are some dreams really worth risking one’s life over?”

“... That’s a hard one.” Ranjou purses his lips in thought, seriously considering the question. He’d already given up shushing her whenever she addressed him reverently— finally, she’d harrumphed, as you so deserve— and Hanrin secretly hopes it also means he’ll eventually, finally, come back with her to Han, where they belong. She hasn’t meant to indirectly follow up on it so soon, but apparently he sees through it anyway.

The music slowly fades into silence, giving way once more to directions from the filming crew. The shoot is probably ending soon, then they’ll change studios for the interview segment. Hanrin rubs her temples to ease the ringing in her ears; how everyone else seems to carry on unbothered is beyond her.

Ranjou stands up before she does, fishing out from his pocket a small picture of Tsuki and Hoshi, when they still looked more their actual age than they do now. “They said MoonStar would never last the year,” he reminisces. “They said the same thing about everyone, really. Realists, all of them.”

He was one, too, the day Hanrin appeared before him, his eyes almost devoid of light after years of witnessing failure and hurt in this suffocating place. But she realized that a dying ember can still become a fire, so she decided not to prostrate herself before him yet, no matter how much her heart yearned for it. In hindsight, being Risetsu for the past month has probably been the best thing to happen to her yet, if only because she has had her master all to herself before giving him up to Han once and for all.

“Well, they’ve certainly come far,” and she is beaming with the same pride Ranjou feels in his heart now, as loud applause fills the studio to wrap up the shoot. “Seeing it all up close was more than worth it, I guess.” Worth all the exhaustion, she doesn’t say to him. Or the noise, or the breathlessness and the heavy pollution, among many other things that made Hourai a terrible world to be in. And Hanrin fondly keeps this past tense and more close to her heart, because her master, whom she loves above all else, is worth everything.

Ranjou chuckles quietly in agreement, gently patting her shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze. He’d learned early on that her forehead was off-limits, though the exact reason for that hasn’t stuck with him yet, the same way the whole idea of their birth place in the other world still hasn’t. It’s probably not long now, Hanrin presumes, before everything falls into place, but she found that she no longer cared as much. Because either way, she’ll continue to stay by his side for however long he may need, and forever after that.

#juuni kokki #12 kingdoms #twelve kingdoms #hanrin #go ranjou #modern AU #showbiz fic

[jeweled-blue-eyes]

Twelve Kingdoms AU

#my art #athyette #zenetien de alger obelia #twelve kingdoms au #wmmap

[archester-creations]

you are the ocean′s gray waves (yoi bb 4/5)

The morning after that, the weight of Viktor’s stare felt different. Yuuri glanced over to him as discreetly as he could. But nothing looked like it changed. Viktor’s eyes were just as blue as always, a colour clear as crystal. The second Viktor caught him looking back, he smiled sunnily. As carefree as usual. Yuuri turned back around and frowned to himself. Maybe he was imagining it. It was fully possible. After all, Minako was the one he talked to the most. So he didn’t really know Viktor well enough to know if something had changed. Even if he’d started watching him back just as much. He shook his head and decided to ask Minako later. Their practice would start soon; Yuuri wanted to find a place to watch it after he dragged more water up from the stream.

“Does Viktor seem weird to you?” He asked Minako after practice was over when he handed her a towel- doing it last, so they could talk without anyone hearing. Yuuri… really didn’t want anyone else hearing this. “Like, lately?”

“Viktor always seems weird,” Minako said. He frowned at her and she blinked. “Oh. You’re serious.” Discreetly, way more discreet than Yuuri ever could, Minako looked over at Viktor. Looked him up and down, tilted her head. Then she looked back at him.

“Nope. Not any weirder than he’s been since you got here,” Minako said.

“Since I’ve been here?” Yuuri asked. What did he have to do with how Viktor was acting? Maybe Viktor had hated him since the beginning and that was why he stared all the time. Except… he was the one who asked to ‘keep’ him. Minako hummed.

“Yeah. You’ve had quite the effect on him, Yuuri,” she said with a knowing smirk and left him to stew in whatever that meant until Yakov yelled, breaking him out of his confused stupor.

  The dance the group was performing was a tale of lovers. Where one was cursed into a monster and the other had to get them to remove layers until they revealed the human underneath. Mila had told him the monster was a snake-like youma. Georgi called it romantic. And Yuuri didn’t really disagree. A story about a person, cursed into forgetting who he truly was, saved by one who’d grown to love him despite that.

Yuuri danced through the moves of the story, picturing himself as the creature. He knelt before his sister, who’d wanted to marry a bride, and smiled at her with a hint of cruelty behind it. To tell her “a bride for me before a bride for you”. The words slipped from him, whispered into the air, intent woven in them. Eventually someone would come and they’d trick him into time together and then on their wedding night they’d trick him out of layers of skin until only the person he had been lay exposed. And though the play ended soon after that, Yuuri liked to believe the two lovers had a long and happy marriage after that.

But for now Yuuri danced without a partner. A beast that simply wanted. Wanted love, wanted the place it was supposed to have in the world. Wanted to be a prince again. He held the final position of the set, breath coming heavy, a sense of right singing in his muscles. A sense that only really came here . With the adrenaline of the dance, the visions falling away in the aftermath. The cave of an empty room to be replaced with grass. He breathed in and opened his eyes. Only to register something human shaped. Suddenly the entire scene shattered and Yuuri dove for his glasses, already apologizing. When he got them on he could see night-darkened blue eyes watching him.

“How long have you been watching me?” Yuuri asked.

Viktor tapped his lips with a finger. A smile spread out. “A few days now.”

A few days ?! Yuuri felt himself flush. Heat spread throughout his body. He didn’t think anyone ever watched. That was kind of the point. Everyone was supposed to be asleep so he wouldn’t be watched. Except, Viktor did, just as he watched Yuuri throughout the day. Apparently this was what happened when you got used to someone’s stare. Yuuri bit his lip and looked down. There was a choice to make here. An apology or- Taking a breath to gather courage he rushed out, “Will you teach me the other dances? The ones with you. I mean, obviously only if you want to! I just thought yo- they looked cool and wanted to learn.”

Silence lingered for long enough he actually looked back up. Viktor was looking at him, seeming surprised. As he watched it turned pleased. “I’d love to.”

Yuuri got to know Viktor better, little by little, after that.

Viktor wasn’t the best teacher. But they fumbled and laughed together and it was okay. For what felt like the first time, Yuuri felt truly comfortable with someone dancing at his side. There was no awkwardness. Because they were both awkward. (They certainly stepped on each other’s feet enough to prove that.) His heart beat a little faster, a little harder, as the nights went by and Yuuri began to question whether or not it was actually the exercise and adrenaline.

  “Something’s been bothering me,” Yuuri said later into what had to be his fourth week. Minako looked over. “What did you mean a few weeks ago, when you said the new ruler would get us on track to ‘actually being better’?”

With a sigh, Minako put down the costume she’d been looking at. Their first performance was coming up. Minako had to check to be sure all their costumes were okay and then she’d give them to Yakov for a double check and okay. “When the heavens pick a ruler, they pick the person they think will be best suited to serve their kingdom. When the ruler is good and just, the kingdom flourishes. But when a ruler becomes corrupt, the land starts to suffer. Droughts, youma, sickness. It all happened to Kou because of Saku-ou. Now that he’s dead, though, the heavens will pick a new ruler. And hopefully they’ll do better,” Minako told him.

“Oh,” Yuuri said. “So, the heavens just… reach down or something and say ‘this one here’?”

Minako snorted. “Something like that. A kirin will announce it by bowing to the ruler and swearing to serve them, showing the heavens approval.”

Yuuri nodded. It sounded weird. It sounded familiar. He had no idea what it meant.

He dreamt of dripping golden hair and fierce green eyes that night.

  The second night of their performance, Georgi got sick. He snuffled miserably, voice warped with his clogged nose.

“Yakov, I can’t tonight,” Georgi said.

Yakov frowned- more than usual- at the way his voice went down pitifully. Mila clicked her tongue in sympathy.

“Georgi hates it when he can’t perform,” Mila whispered to Yuuri. “He feels bad about making us work around his role. Though usually it’s Yakov saying he can’t perform. This is new.”

“Yuuri could do it,” Viktor offered.

“ What ?” Yakov asked gruffly at the same time Yuuri yelped the same, looking to Viktor.

“We’ve been practicing,” Viktor said. “Yuuri knows his part. I believe in him.”

Yakov narrowed his eyes. Throughout his time with them, despite their quarrels- ‘quarrels’ mostly being Yakov yelling at Viktor and Viktor not really listening- Yuuri learned Yakov truly did trust Viktor’s opinion. In his own way. “Fine. Show me.”

Viktor smiled. “We will. Yuuri?”

“Uh, I- Are you sure?” Yuuri asked and Viktor nodded. With a brief look over at Yakov he reached forward and took Viktor’s hand. There were stumbles, but Yakov agreed to let them do it.

That night Yuuri was even more nervous to dance than earlier that day. It was one thing to perform for Yakov and Georgi and Mila and Minako. This was- This was an audience full of people in a house that was packed enough the air felt warm despite it being cool outside.

“Do you really think I can do it?” Yuuri quietly asked Viktor, forcing his eyes away from everyone else. Viktor nodded. He had no idea when he started to trust Viktor’s opinion, too. Eventually Minako shoved him out with a pat on his butt and a whispered ‘good luck’ in his ear.

It started terribly. Yuuri flubbed a number of turns and his anxiety felt like it melted his bones. But he was on stage and the music was playing and he couldn’t stop. But he fumbled and everyone saw. He couldn’t concentrate . It was like his mind was foggy. The scene in his head twisted and changed and felt as elusive as air. The second he could he closed his eyes. When he reopened them, he saw Viktor and he looked almost just as worried. Suddenly, Yuuri wanted to laugh. He was the one on stage. What did Viktor have to worry about? Yuuri took a breath and the next jump he actually landed.

Huh.

He took a look back in time to see Viktor take a breath. Seriously, he was on stage right now. When he fumbled the eyes would be on him. Sure, Viktor was his teacher, but nobody in the audience knew that. Plus wasn’t a teacher supposed to have confidence in their students? Yuuri had to bite his lip slightly to not actually laugh. Viktor tried his best, but even now he certainly wasn’t a teacher. He was a fantastic dancer, though.

The scene finally faded in, piece by piece, and this time it felt tangible.

Finally, Viktor entered the stage. The second they started to move together it felt like something changed. The air shifted. Their bodies moved with the precision of practice. Of knowing your partner and the way they moved. They flowed together, simple and strong. And the scene faded from a room to memories of grass and laughs and shushing each other so they wouldn’t wake Yakov. He looked at Viktor and saw the warmth he felt bubbling in his chest reflected in his eyes.

It felt like breathing.

It felt like love.

When it was over, Yuuri felt weak in the knees and giddy and he saw Viktor looked the same.

As they cleaned up, three young girls ran up to them, gushing so fast Yuuri couldn’t keep up. Mila smiled and talked back to them just as fast. Their excitement fed off of each other’s. It was clear they knew each other somehow. When they noticed him, the three let out a simultaneous gasp. “You're new!” One of them pointed an accusing finger at him.

“You were the cursed prince!” Another said.

“When did you join? Is it only for this performance or will it be for others, too? What's your name?” The last asked, rapid fire. It felt like an interrogation. Yuuri swallowed.

“Girls!” A voice admonished and the three wilted. He looked over to his saviour. She was a girl slightly shorter than him, with kind eyes and brown hair. Eyes that lit up in a very similar way to the three younger girls, who he assumed were her children.

“You were incredible !” The girl told him, practically bouncing where she stood with sudden energy. Her eyes flickered behind him. He followed her gaze to see Viktor. It stuck there. Hair still clung to Viktor’s forehead, glued with sweat. Viktor’s eyes were bright. “Both of you are! You have such good chemistry!”

“I agree,” Viktor said with a large smile. It looked like there were hearts in his expression. Yuuri’s breath stuttered in his chest. He was too focused on Viktor to notice Georgi watching them from the side with a pleased expression.

“I'm Yuuko, these are my girls, Axel, Lutz, and Loop. We've been watching their shows since a bit before they were born so we always come say hi after their performances,” Yuuko said. “Sorry for them jumping you. They were just surprised to see a new face. So am I, actually!”

“I'm Yuuri,” Yuuri said. She leaned forward and he answered another of the girls’ questions. “I joined about a month ago.”

“A month? And you've already learned the whole performance? Wow, that's amazing!”

“He'll be joining us for a few more of our performances for this one and will learn a new one later!” Viktor said. Yuuri turned to him in surprise. Because what ? No one had talked about that!

“Viktor,” he hissed under his breath. It was ignored and he suddenly knew how Yakov felt.

“We’re doing what now?” Yakov asked. Yuuri turned to see him handling one of the props menacingly as he glared over at Viktor.

“Yuuri’s going to be in more of our performances!” Viktor said. Yuuri suddenly really wished he could sink into the floor.

“Sounds good to me!” Minako yelled from the stage. “I wouldn’t mind teaching him a few new moves!”

“Yeah, it’ll be nice having an extra person,” Georgi said.

“Settled!” Mila said.

“Wait a minute-” Yakov said, but Yuuri already knew whatever he’d say wouldn’t matter. Not when the other three all agreed with whatever Viktor’s idea was. Yakov sighed, definitely knowing he was outvoted. At the sigh eight voices cheered. The other members of the troupe, along with Yuuko and her three girls.

“They just get a new member?” A man asked. He settled his arm over Yuuko’s shoulders, who looked up at him with a smile. “I still remember when Mila joined. So who’s the runt?”

“Yuuri,” Yuuko said. “And don’t be mean to this one, he seems nice.”

“You think everyone’s nice,” the man said. “Good luck,” he told Yuuri.

“Thanks,” Yuuri laughed awkwardly before being dogpiled by the other troupe members, happy that he’d joined. It was nice. They felt kind of like a family and Yuuri felt himself smile. Yakov gave them a moment before he yelled at them to get back to work and the family of fans said goodbye.

  “Your hair’s gotten dark,” Mila told him one day during practice. For right now he would be Georgi’s understudy. As chosen by the group and agreed upon by Yakov. In another month they’d start to learn a new play, with enough roles for all five of them. Yuuri was excited. Even if he was nervous. He couldn’t wait to learn something new.

“It has?” Yuuri asked and tried to look, but it was too short for him to really see it. The best he could do was lean his head down and try to make out his bangs. They didn’t look any different.

“Yeah! It looks like coal now, while before it looked…” Mila hummed.

“Like night,” Georgi said.

“Yeah, that!” Mila said. “Like night.”

“Oh.” Yuuri went back to what he was doing, but his mind was whirling about his own hair now. He knew it could grey, but could black hair darken ? It didn’t seem to make sense. Though, neither did communicating (if it could be called that, he thought it could) with nature and yet that happened more than once.

“I think it’s nice,” Viktor said. Yuuri looked at him and when Viktor smiled softly, he smiled back just as soft.

  They must both have been insane- Viktor and him. Heck, the whole troupe too for letting them. Three months had passed. Yuuri had fully integrated into the troupe. And Viktor and him were… He looked down and twirled the gleaming metal around his finger.

Married . After three months. It felt like he should be worried or should feel weird or something but all he felt was giddy. And he wasn’t alone. The feeling practically permeated the air around Viktor and him, and the others didn’t seem much better, as if they infected them. Even Yakov seemed pleased. Yuuri definitely didn’t expect all of this to lead here. He brought his ring to his lips. Just as Viktor had done after he’d slid it on his finger.

He was glad it did.

#yuri on ice #yuuri katsuki #viktor nikiforov #viktuuri #yoi big bang 2021 #mila babicheva #yakov feltsman #minako okukawa #georgi popovich #okukawa minako #katsuki yuuri #minako x mila #twelve kingdoms au

[sunmoonjune]

masterlist

an updated collection of the works of sunmoonjune. all works belong to sunmoonjune. do not copy, translate, or repost any of my works. I will no longer be updating the previous masterlist! I just needed a chance of pace to get back on track :))

*please regard the warnings at the beginning of each fic! they are very important - please remember that you curate your own internet experience, so take heed to any and all warnings*

previous masterlist

petrichor

a stray kids and ateez supernatural universe! 

choose your own adventure masterlist

in this masterlist, you’ll be guided to pick your first adventure: through the door of rising suns and rays of light or the door of starry skies and a midnight moon? 

once you pick your door, there will be links to the fics in each universe in the masterpost of the specific kingdom: the kingdom of dawn (ateez) and the kingdom of night (stray kids) 

there is lots of lore for each universe in these pieces! 

stray kids

oneshots

primordial: poly!ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [sea gods au, soulmate au]

[preview]

synopsis: “Oh no,” the deep voice spoke hushedly, “we cannot destroy something that has loved us so beautifully.” 

warnings: suggestive content! minors dni!! mentions of death, drowning injury, blood, poly relationships including member x member, swearing

rating: mature [due to suggestive content]

word count: 12.3k 

storm clouds at midnight: poly!ot8 stray kids x fem! reader [werewolf au, soulmate au]

synopsis: moving to a little woodside town, you discover a deep bond that connects you to eight wolves who reside in the forest aside your cottage. soon after your first meeting, you give into the enchanting magical connection and accept the pack leader’s challenge: if any of the wolves can catch you, you'll accept the mating bond (a silly proposal, considering you have long since accepted the connection)

warnings: intense suggestive content (not explicit smut, but damn well close) [minors dni!!], predator/prey, chasing, blood, injury, vulgar language, cursing, biting, choking 

rating: extremely mature! [minors pls do not interact!]

word count: 26.3k

↳ untitled drabble: poly!ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [storm clouds! universe] 

hyunjin, minho, chan, felix based 

synopsis: musings about hyunjin and his hair-tie stealing tendencies 

warnings: gets a little raunchy -- minors please dni! suggestive content and cursing 

↳ moonlit inferno: poly! ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [storm clouds! universe] 

synopsis: the wolf pack muses upon the mating chases that have occurred since your courting process finished. one resulted in your favor, the other in their own. while planning their tactic to win the next, they’re interrupted by your call with someone they had not expected. 

warnings: suggestive content!! predator/prey, chasing, cursing, vulgar language, choking, teasing, biting, minors please do not interact with this piece (you will get blocked!)

rating: mature! [minors dni]

word count: 10k 

ateez

series

like the moon: poly!ot8 ateez x fem! oc!reader

*disclaimer: I tag the reader as an /oc/ just in case, but the reader here isn’t really an oc - she has a nickname and a backstory (as well as family figures), but she does not have any distinguishing features besides her scars and enough hair to tie rings into -- anything else is not mentioned so it’s still a reader insert, I just wanted to clarify for anyone who is confused! * 

one: the trial

two: a familiar face

three: puncture

four: honey

five: hatred

six: an anchor in storming seas

seven: angel

eight: reconciliation

nine: common ground

ten: new start

eleven: too slow

twelve: gone

thirteen: flames relit

fourteen: home 

fifteen: safe

sixteen: my hongjoong

seventeen: magpies

synopsis: it’s finally the day of your trial. you’ve been waiting for this day for years. will you succeed and become a warrior your clan can finally be proud of? or will you fail, and be banished from the village forever? 

warnings: graphic depictions of past torture, past abuse, gore, injury, death, threats, fighting, reader is nonverbal for much of this fic, previous familial abuse [this fic can be considered triggering in many aspects, pls be cautious and heed the warnings at the beginning of each chapter!]

rating: mature

word count: 160k 

status: in progress

↳ extra lore! some extra detail on her mask 

↳ extra lore! the semiotics of a long bow: a glimpse into the symbols seonghwa carves into his longbow

↳ spring tides: a like the moon oneshot

synopsis: the ateez clan celebrate your birthday <3 

warnings: vague mentions of eating disorder, death and torture, scars, ptsd, very fluffy! a lot of comfort! not so dark this time xD I did not proofread this :D 

rating: teen 

word count: 14.1k 

oneshots

dewdrops at dawn: poly!ot8 ateez x fem! reader [demon au, soulmate au] [petrichor! universe]

synopsis: you’ve never really believed in angels, or anything of the sort, but in a last ditch effort to escape a grave situation – you find yourself to praying for someone - anyone - to come help you. 

“wow, you would not believe how fast angels are! I had to fight like six of them to answer your call!” 

warnings: creepy men, implied chubby!reader, social anxiety, implied neurodivergency, cursing, being followed, drunk assholes, blood, death, minor gore, intense sexual themes [minors dni!!], heavy suggestive content 

rating: mature [minors dni!]

word count: 17.2k

mist at daybreak: poly!ot8 ateez x fem! reader [demon au, soulmate au] [petrichor! universe]

[preview]

synopsis: a one shot to continue dewdrops at dawn. 

as you officially settle into life in Hell, a few problems arise. the first comes in the form of nightmares - or memories, you suppose - memories of your death. images of blood and tears, the sight of your grieving mates, and the weak plea of a promise are all you can see. 

“forever, angel.” he promises, voice weak as tears muddle his vision. “forever. I promise.” 

warnings: blood, death, cursing, mourning, suggestive content, mentions of vomit

rating: mature [minors dni]

word count: 5.7k [preview] 

jujutsu kaisen

series

house-elves & moondew: poly!satosugu x fem!reader [hogwarts au] 

chapter one

synopsis: “you must be some wizard,” Suguru huffs softly, a warm smile gracing his features as his dark eyes drift over you. his chest sings with a giddy lightness, feeling the butterflies in his stomach turn when a little grin pulls at your features. 

when you tilt your head in confusion, Satoru continues for his partner. “You’ve bewitched us,” he murmurs softly, voice warm and husky as he leans close, “body and soul - without even uttering a single spell.” 

warnings: social anxiety, reader has implied trauma, violence, injury, blood, death, death eaters, heavy suggestive content [minors dni!!], cursing

rating: mature [minors dni!]

word count: 15k

status: ongoing

oneshots

in their loving hands: poly!satosugu x fem!reader [mafia au, kindergarten teacher au]

synopsis: you’re a hard working kindergarten teacher, just trying to earn enough money to move out of your run-down apartment. everything is normal, or as much as it can be, until two men drop their daughters off in your kindergarten classroom. Nanako and Mimiko quickly become two of your favorite students, and their unreasonably attractive fathers have nothing to do with it - you promise! 

warnings: blood, death, cursing, mentions of cheating, insecurity, being followed/chased, being attacked, mentions of sexual content! 

rating: mature 

word count: 18.8k

gods and monsters: poly!satosugu x fem!reader [pacific rim au]

synopsis: six years after you lose your jaeger co-pilot, the Marshall finds you working on the coastal wall; he’s adamant you return to your station, but you can’t imagine piloting a jaeger with anyone who isn’t your brother. when you’re talked into returning to base, you’re met with the world’s two best jaeger pilots. 

warnings: blood, death, gore, cursing, mounters, past trauma, reader has a brother, fighting, angst, heavy suggestive content [minors dni!] 

rating: mature [minors dni!]

word count: 27.6k

raspberry leaves: poly!satosugu x fem!reader [jjk au] [family!au]

synopsis: reader has severe period cramps in the middle of the night and hides in the bathroom to try to deal with her agony. geto wakes to your figure missing in bed and worries. how can he help your pain? 

warnings: periods, severe cramp, painkillers, fainting, mentions of vomiting, cursing, fathers!gojo and geto, megumi tsumiki nanako and mimiko are your kids :D 

rating: teen 

word count: 12.5k 

works in progress 

*these are works that are currently being drafted - fics will only be added to this list if they have portions written!* 

kpop groups

mist at daybreak: poly!ot8 ateez x fem!reader [dewdrops at dawn universe]

thunder at twilight: poly!ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [stormclouds at midnight universe]

planned

all of my stars: poly!satosugu x fem!reader [jujutsu universe, geto doesn’t defect, happy!au lol] 

our own constellations: poly!ot8 stray kids x fem!reader [primordial universe] 

#masterlist #sunmoonjune #ateez x reader #stray kids x reader #poly!ateez x reader #poly!stray kids x reader #skz x reader #ot8 stray kids #hongjoong x reader #chan x reader #Felix x reader #Seonghwa x reader #Wooyoung x reader #mingi x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #poly!satosugu #jjk x reader #seungmin x reader #changbin x reader #jeongin x reader #jisung x reader #minho x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #choi san x reader #jongho x reader

[justwritedreams]

Welcome to the Kingdom | Jeno

Chapter Twelve: The Wedding

Prince Jeno x Princess Reader, enemies to lovers au!, royalty au!

Word count: 2770 

Genre: drama, fake relationship

Author: maari

Warnings: Jealous Jeno again bc like it, mentions of alchool and some sexual tension.

Note: FINALLY THANK GOD! PLEASE DON'T HIT ME 😭😭 You don't know how I wanted to finish this chapter but couldn't, now things are going to start getting interesting 😏

Summary: The wedding is finally going to happen. Will we have more surprises?

<<< Previous | Masterlist |

⪢ NCT Masterlist

Taglist: @floweronacloud, @cookydream, @travelleratheart101, @ilvaussie​, @tyongf-sunflower99​, @mings-cafe ,  @n0hyuck , @waltermitty97 , @jihoonismydad , @madaboutjunmyeon , @actually-vl  , @neomooniez, @pvppyhao , @ikayyyyyy (can’t tag you honey 😞), @everloving-avenue , @moonchele , @markspossibilities

Y/N tried to control her heavy breathing with exercises she had learned but she still couldn't make her anxiety lessen as she looked at her glamorous and angelic reflection in the mirror.

Even though she had tried on the same dress several times before the wedding, now she was ready and just minutes away from entering the cathedral to get married.

She was nervous that day, she had woken up early to have a good coffee and start getting ready, her hair and makeup needed to be perfect and it would take time for that to happen.

She was finally going to get married!

As for her fiancé, she hadn't seen him since the night before that kept haunting her mind. She still didn't understand what had happened in the jacuzzi, whether it had been a lapse of carnal desire or simply one of the steps in their little game, but she couldn't contain herself. It was stronger than all the provocations until then.

Maybe that's why she was like that, she was anxious but also scared, she didn't know what awaited her from now on. She would be bound to Jeno for the rest of her life, for the good of her kingdom as well as his.

Yeah, actually spending 5 minutes alone before going to the ceremony hadn't been a good idea since her mind kept creating all the possible scenarios.

Her daydreams were interrupted when the bedroom door was opened, she turned around and looked at her father's figure, traditionally dressed in royal formalwear, he was also wearing the crown.

She smiled nervously at her father who was visibly excited to see his daughter dressed as a bride.

“You are the most beautiful princess in the world.” he smiled widely and walked towards her, extending his hand.

“You’re only saying that because I’m your daughter.” she replied, holding her father's hand.

“I’m saying this because it’s the truth.” he kissed her forehead and looked at her deeply. Y/N stared at her father expectantly, she was ready to listen to her father's advice before getting married.

“Don’t be afraid, marriage isn’t that bad.”

She laughed lightly.

“Even though it’s just a strategic alliance?”

“Every marriage is an alliance.” she looked at him suspiciously. “See me and your mother.”

“The difference is that you really love each other.”

“And it can’t be like that with you and Jeno?” he asked and Y/N didn't immediately deny it.

The truth is that as much as she wanted to give a negative answer, there was no way she could have predicted it.

It could go very wrong or it could go very right.

But she was more prepared for the possibility that it would go wrong.

Loving Jeno seemed like a forbidden idea in every way.

“That’s what we’ll see, right?” she shrugged.

“Until then,” her father extended his arm for her to support and she did. “I just want you to be happy.”

She smiled excitedly and rested her head on his shoulder for a few seconds.

Even though it was an arranged marriage, a strategic and political alliance, she couldn't deny that she was happy that day.

A lot would change from then on and she felt more than ready.

The princess found her mother at the end of the stairs and she had to control her tears when she saw her, her mother was visibly moved and hugged her with a strength that seemed to recharge Y/N's energy.

Leaving the castle to the historic carriage and the journey to the cathedral were overwhelming for Y/N, the only concern she had was being able to breathe properly so that she wouldn't show the immense nervousness she was feeling, she felt her father's watchful eyes on her and the mother's voice sounded distant. The princess trembled internally with anxiety, in a way she had never felt before.

She let out her breath as soon as she held her father's hand as he got out of the carriage and extended it so he could help her out of the carriage. She heard the voices and applause of those watching the wedding outside the cathedral and smiled restrainedly behind her, waving briefly.

Y/N heard the camera flashes capturing that moment and especially her dress which, although it had some classic details, was undoubtedly very different from what they had speculated. The princess had opted for a dress that had embroidered details on the skirt that wasn’t too full but long enough to provide an elegant tail, the bust was well worked with the same designs and highlighted the princess's waist, the sleeve fell over her shoulders. It gave a clear view of the diamond necklace that had been in the family for generations, the veil, although it only had the same embroidered details on the front, was long and covered the braid she had made.

The queen extended the bouquet to Y/N who thanked her with a nervous smile, the mother then entered the cathedral while her husband stayed behind and prepared to enter with their daughter.

“Don’t let me fall, dad.” she whispered, not even recognizing her own voice, she sounded so vulnerable.

"Never."

She smiled at him and then heard the wedding march play imposingly, she took a deep breath and raised her head before starting to walk slowly into the cathedral, even though the corridor was long and it was crowded, her eyes looked for Jeno and she even managed to control her expression of surprise but her eyes didn't lie.

He wore a formal uniform that wasn’t only elegant but also respected the history of Y/N's kingdom, using the colors of the family crest. Blue, white and gold.

The outfit had looked so good on Jeno that the princess couldn't take her eyes off him, she had imagined that he would probably wear the famous white and gold suit but she was completely wrong.

He had his hair perfectly combed so that only one strand fell into his eye.

And the eye... Y/N didn't seem to be the only one mesmerized at the beginning of the ceremony, Jeno also admired her from top to bottom without any discretion.

As soon as the king handed his daughter to Jeno, the prince's hand was as cold as Y/N, the ceremony began and went faster than both could have imagined, and it was true to say that neither of them paid that much attention to the words from the priest since they were too busy watching each other out of the corner of their eyes.

Y/N only felt nervous again when it was time to exchange the rings, she didn't want Jeno to notice that her hand was shaking but it was impossible.

She wasn't nervous just because Jeno recited the vows looking deep into her eyes, but because she knew that after the exchange of rings, the ceremony would end with the bride and groom's passionate kiss.

And well, even though she and Jeno showed the world that they were extremely in love with each other, she had never kissed him until then and it was obvious that she was scared of it.

Because she didn't know how her body would react to the kiss and doing that in front of millions of people was scary, to say the least.

The princess felt her heart pound against her ribs when the priest announced that they could kiss, she looked at Jeno anxiously and all she saw in his eyes was a fire that made her ears heat up.

She already felt her legs shaking when he held both of her hands. She was ready to lean over but Jeno had other plans.

He knelt down and kissed Y/N's ring for a long time and then rested his forehead on her hand, who although she was confused, felt her stomach turn. He received a standing ovation from all the witnesses.

Jeno had clearly knelt before the crown of the kingdom and in a silent gesture showed that he respected and would serve that country as the husband of the future queen, there was no way to show greater devotion than that.

He had just won the entire kingdom and the respect of Y/N, even though she was disappointed that she hadn't kissed him like a common bride, she silently thanked him for the gesture when he stood up.

After all, she was absolutely right. They were no ordinary bride and groom.

[...]

Y/N felt her cheek hurt from smiling at the people who came to greet them, Jeno was next to her with his hand comfortably on her waist. The princess had already changed her dress for the wedding reception, although it wasn't exactly a white dress, it was as elegant as the one for the ceremony, worked in stones from the short sleeve to the long skirt, the neckline was perfect for her to continue wearing the family jewel and had removed her veil so everyone could admire the braid.

The Lee family had been the first to greet the newlyweds and Y/N could see a little sadness in Mark's eyes but he hugged her the same way as always, wishing her happiness and she could do nothing but thank him.

Now, Y/N was talking to her cousin a little further away from Jeno as he was talking to his brothers. They had already greeted all the guests and were free to move around the room.

“My God, you two…”

The princess looked at her cousin who was taking turns looking between her and Jeno.

“What happened, Yeri?”

“You two are impossible, you know?” Y/N raised her eyebrow, confused. “Just looking at you can already feel the sexual tension.”

Y/N laughed and shook her head.

“You’re kidding me.” She drank some of the champagne she was holding and her cousin looked at her offended.

"I'm serious. This honeymoon is going to be promising.”

The princess swallowed hard and felt the champagne bubble inside her throat.

Oh sure, all she needed to imagine was the honeymoon.

“He didn’t even kiss me.” Y/N remembered in disbelief.

“And you’ve never heard of foreplay?” Yeri asked and her cousin's eyes widened, looking around her to see if anyone had heard.

"Shut up please." she begged.

“He’s raising your expectations, after all, you’ll finally get some action after so long without…”

Y/N looked towards the main door of the room and her jaw dropped when she saw a familiar figure, as she grabbed her cousin's arm so she would stop talking.

“Tell me I’m not drunk and I’m actually seeing who I think I’m seeing.”

Yeri followed her cousin's eyes and smiled mischievously.

“Your wedding party just started getting more lively.” hummed and the princess looked at her quickly, partly in panic.

However, the cousin moved away from her when she realized that the reason for Y/N's attention was walking towards her, letting her arm fall to her side as she stood still.

“Y/N.”

She felt her heart race when she heard the voice, it had been so long since she spoke to him, she couldn't even remember the last time.

“Hongjoong.” She smiled.

He was different, more mature. He wore a black formal suit with red and gold details, his light brown hair very different from the blonde she knew.

“I needed to come and greet the bride.” smiled sideways

“I didn’t know you were here, I didn’t see you at the ceremony.”

“And did you notice anyone in the cathedral?”

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. In fact, she couldn't identify even half of the people in the cathedral because of such nervousness.

“Did my parents invite you?” she asked, interested, seeing him nod.

“Our commercial relationships still remain very strong.”

Y/N tilted her head to admire him. She had always known about the potential of becoming one of the main food suppliers for Y/N's kingdom but seeing it actually happen was impressive.

From afar, Jeno watched the princess talk animatedly with a man he hadn't met until then. He tried not to stare at the two of them but it was practically impossible considering that he saw something there that he hadn't seen with anyone else until then, intimacy.

Y/N seemed extremely comfortable with the man, who he noticed was a noble by the posture and clothes he wore, she looked at him with admiration and considering that he had met the princess's entire family, he knew that this wasn't her cousin.

Jeno's jaw clenched when he saw her take her hand to the man's arm and his sudden reaction didn't go unnoticed by Haechan.

“You guys just got married and you already have a competitor for her heart?” the brother spoke quietly so that only Jeno could hear, even using his famous joking tone, it wasn't enough for Jeno not to glare at him.

Haechan raised his hands in a sign of surrender and didn't even need to provoke his brother further, who began to walk in long strides towards Y/N and the excited guest.

Jeno wasn't jealous, at least that's what he repeated in his head as he approached the princess, but he made it very explicit when he put his arm around his wife's waist, who was startled by the sudden touch.

“My love, I was looking for you.” He kissed the top of her head and she looked at him with a frown. “Don’t forget you promised me a dance.”

"Oh yes of course." Y/N agreed, still looking at Jeno in confusion.

An unsettling silence fell between the three and Y/N cleared her throat.

“This is Duke Hongjoong, he is from the northern kingdom.” she introduced the two of them and Jeno reached out to squeeze his hand tighter than he should have.

“From the Kim family.” Hongjoong added and Jeno raised his eyebrow.

He really wasn't wrong about the guy. He just didn't know that Y/N was his friend.

“We have some commercial business and he came to greet us.”

Jeno nodded silently and took turns looking between the princess and the duke, the fact that his wife didn't look him in the eye said more than he wanted to understand.

"Congratulations on the wedding!" Hongjoong spoke and Jeno smiled discreetly.

There was something bubbling hot inside him, like snake venom.

"Thank you very much. I hope you come to court more often.” Jeno wanted to hit himself for sounding so polite, he actually wanted to threaten the Duke and not seem like he wanted to be friends.

Y/N stared at Jeno in disbelief, it was the second time that day that he surprised her.

But if he knew the past between Y/N and Hongjoong, he definitely wouldn't invite him to the castle.

"Of course it will be a pleasure." Hongjoong took a step back and greeted them. "See you soon."

Jeno hugged Y/N's waist tighter when he saw that the duke directed his last look at her and he didn't like how natural it felt.

Okay, he had perfectly understood what had happened there. There was a history between the two and he didn't know if he wanted to know what it was.

Before he could ask anything, Y/N's parents approached while the princess scratched the back of her head uncomfortably.

“Jeno, Y/N, you will spend the night at the castle.” the king informed and they both looked at him in surprise.

“In the castle?”

“Your father and I have agreed that you and Jeno should go to the chalet tomorrow morning.” the queen explained. “It’s further away, surrounded by security guards. You will be safe.”

“I thought we were going to the summer house.” Y/N said, looking at her father and then her mother.

"It's risky." was all his father said.

“Your parents are right, Y/N.” Jeno patted Y/N's back and she felt a shiver run down her spine. “We have a lot of guests here, we need to take care of our safety and theirs too.” Y/N pondered for a bit until she nodded.

"You can extend the honeymoon as long as you want.”

Although the princess didn't want to agree out loud with Yeri, she needed to admit that there was sexual tension there.

And Jeno's warm palm wasn't helping at all, especially when she remembered that the next day she would be alone with Jeno in the chalet away from the royal family and everyone else.

#jeno scenarios #jeno fanfic #jeno scenario #jeno imagine #jeno imagines #lee jeno scenarios #jeno fluff #jeno x you #jeno x y/n #jeno x reader #nct scenario #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct series #nct scenarios #nct x y/n #nct x you #nct x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream series #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fic #nct dream x y/n #nct dream x you #nct dream x reader #nct royal au #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop x y/n

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 11

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday (i know it's tuesday that's my bad 💀). every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

and if you're warm, then you can't relate to me by remrose

They get stuck outside from a 3AM fire alarm. “I call it the ten-pound-quilt.” Will winked like it was a secret, coming to a stop in front of Nico. “I lent it to one of my siblings once and he said it was like being suffocated by a wet cement pancake. I love it."

will 'problem causer and embarrassed about it' solace so so real. this fic is also stellar bc nico is lowkey aware how much will likes him. that is how the dynamic should be i think.

2. Those walls I built didn't even put up a fight by @sazandorable

"Is it morally okay to stab a medic with their own scissors?" Nico asked Cecil. (Not that he usually cared about morally okay, as Octavian might demonstrate.) Nico's three days in the infirmary go by faster than he'd thought, and Will just won't stop flirting.

bruh this fic made me LAUGH. it wholly deserves the nearly quarter million hits it has jfc. i 100% clicked for the 'jason is a very embarrassing and very supportive ally' tag and it TOTALLY lived up and it was hilarious. he is. will's characterization was SO SO good and the whole fic just had me giggling!!

3. this is my kingdom come by remrose

Five times Nico and Will pretended they were dating. College AU.

the slow and unnoticeable slide from fake dating to real dating. fucking kills me every time. like oh yeah maybe i do love you. maybe you are everything to me. maybe i do want to spend the rest of my life with you. maybe loving you is this easy. GOD. god. insert seinfield gif her bc it fucking gets to me alright. it gets to me.

4. Days Gone By by @ghostystarr

Everyone was afraid of him, the boy who could talk to ghosts. Will just really wanted to know if his goldfish was haunting him every time he used the bathroom. AU Solangelo.

i am a sucker for childhood friends to lovers alright. and modern au with medium nico is art. so what if it is on the nose. it is amusing. and posting this ghosty ass fic on halloween the year solangelo came out is fucking camp idc this author ate up.

5. Patience and Patients by skyrat

Will Solace didn't mean to get a crush on the most exasperating demigod he'd ever met. But once he started watching Nico di Angelo he couldn't turn away. The lines between intentions and feelings got blurred. But how do you tell if the guy you like feels the same way when he's never around?

will having a crush on nico for a thousand years is literally my favourite trope like i love him actually. his pining ass will never get old! it will never get old. i will never get tired of reading it. also this is unrelated but i read this for the first time the day it was posting, which was the Day after i turned twelve lol time truly flies.

thank you for joining me this saturday tuesday sh don't worry about the actual date friday!! happy reading!!

#thank you to those who reminded me!! i appreciate it!!! #i was unfortunately actively writing an exam at the time #i stg i will be on time this friday. like genuinely #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #hoo #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #nico di angelo/will solace #pining will solace #nico di angelo & jason grace #fic rec #fic rec friday #longpost #FRF