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staytinyville · 13 days

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Burn It (Pt. 1)

↣ Summary: You were only a decoy for all those who wanted your family off the throne. The real leader was your horrible sister who ruled with fear in their subjects. You only did what was told of you and if others came to assassinate you then so be it.

↣ Characters/Pairing: Eventual!Min Yoongi x Reader, Slight Namjoon x Reader,

↣ Genre: Historical, Mature

↣ AU/Trope info: Historical!au, Queen!Reader, Rebel!Yoongi,

↣ Word Count: 6.1k

↣ Warnings: Abuse, Toxic household,

↣ A/N: Honestly I always get inspired by all the historical stories on here and I just really wanted to sit my ass down to write. Part two might just have smut y’all so tell me if you want lmao. Also can you please tell me what you guys think of my writing? I don’t know I want to publish sometime soon but like if I suck at writing why bother.

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You usually slept on your back, worried about the day someone came into your room to do something. It was all you ever thought about the moment you were told why your parents truly made you the queen.

You weren’t a light sleeper by any means, so you knew the moment someone stepped into your room something was going to happen. It wasn’t one of your guards who would announce their presence or even your family who you knew the staff would call out to you the moment they slammed the door open.

You didn’t dare to move. Not when you could hear their steps in the room that were clearly trying to be quiet. Anyone who wasn’t trained to listen in to their surroundings were bound to be caught off guard by whoever it was. However after spending the last few years in fear of being killed in your sleep you taught yourself to pick up on the smallest of things.

You felt them reach the side of your bed, but still you didn’t move. You took in a deep breath, waiting for them to strike. When you made to move your body just the tiniest of bits, your eyes flew wide open at the person who suddenly had you pinned to your bed–a sharp blade placed against your throat.

You swallowed softly, looking up into the face of your assassin. The light from outside the room was barely enough, but you could make out the scar that ran along the right side of his face. His cheeks that look round. The band that was tied against his forehead. The blonde hair that was neatly wrapped in a bun.

You didn’t make a sound though, only allowing your eyes to follow along his face. You could tell that after a moment, he began to grow confused, his eyebrows pulling together and head tilting to the side.

You made no show of trying to fight him off. You didn’t even breathe harshly. Instead he watched as your eyes scanned over his face, eyes glittering in the moonlight that showed through the curtains. It left him baffled as you kept an even expression to it all.

“Why aren't you terrified?” He asked, clenching the blade’s handle.

“There are things more terrifying than death.” You whispered, catching his attention.

There was a sad expression behind your eyes. He could see it hidden behind your facade. He almost faltered when he came to the realization that you were waiting for him to move the knife. But his resolve came back, quickly shaking his head to clear it.

“Then you should be thankful.” He sneered.

He pressed the knife deep just barely breaking the skin. But he stopped completely when all you did was fall limply and close your eyes. His breath got caught in his throat, feeling conflicted over the way you were acting.

He was told about how much of a tyrant the queen was. How she would strike at anyone who dared to even breathe in her direction. She was cruel and followed in her parents footsteps of ruling the kingdom with fear. Those who worked in the castle that were part of the rebellion had all said she was an emotionless person who didn’t even bother to look at when someone was being punished, not bothering to spare them her time.

She was a menace, someone who didn’t deserve to be on the throne. But yet, here she was under his grip awaiting death to come to her without so much as a fight. She was hiding things behind her eyes that would be released come death. But Yoongi didn’t feel it in his heart to kill someone like that. Someone who was willing to give up their life for something haunting them.

He couldn’t stand to see others that way. Not when he had been there before.

You felt the blade lose its pressure, opening your eyes to look at him once again. “What are you doing?” You asked.

“Are you questioning me when I have a knife to your neck?” He sneered, pressing the knife back to you.

“I thought you were going to—”

“Quiet.” He growled, slamming a fist into the pillow next to you.

“Why aren't you calling for help?” He asked, moving to hover above you, his knife next to your head.

“Who will be there to help me?” You whispered once more in that sad voice.

“Your grace!” Someone called from outside of your bedroom.

The man’s head snapped to the direction of the door, hearing the handles begin to twist to signal someone was going to come in. The assassin was quick to jump off the bed and out into the night without so much as a second in between. You rushed out of your bedspread, not caring about being in your nightgown. All you cared about was getting to stop the man.

“Wait—”

You froze at the bottom of the steps that lead outside, catching as he turned around to face you under a lamp post. You could finally see his face in its entirety. The scar ran along his eye and down to his cheek. You were still as his face seemed to burn itself into your memory. You wanted to call out for him, ask him what he was doing.

But there was something stopping you. The way he looked at you like he was torn. It was gone in a flash just as he was following the calling of your name from your bedroom.

“(Y/N)?” You turned to find your personal guard looking around the room for you. “What are you doing outside?” He asked, walking up to you.

“Couldn't sleep.” You spoke softly.

“What brings you by?” You asked the man, turning to face him.

“I heard a man's voice. It was hostile.” He looked around the room just to make sure, moving things around that created dark spots.

“You have sharp hearing, Namjoon.” You smiled softly.

“Nothing to worry about. Everything is fine.” You walked closer to him, causing him to look at you.

You watched as his eyes went wide, hand reaching out to touch your neck.

“You’re bleeding.” He wiped his thumb along the miniscule cut the man’s knife had left.

You moved to wipe at it yourself, coming with bloody fingers. You furrowed your eyebrows, sighing to yourself.

“I probably just scratched myself in my sleep.” You told him.

Namjoon was perceptive, but he wasn’t going to question it because he knew you. No matter how much he wanted to care for you when you got hurt, you were someone who kept to themselves. You weren’t going to allow others to know your pain.

“I’ll clean it for you.” He said.

You allowed the man to do as he pleased. You suddenly felt much too tired to allow yourself the time to clean up the wound. Besides, you always enjoyed your moments with Namjoon. He had been there since you became the so-called queen. He watched them put the crown on your head. Watched with a harsh breath and flare nostrils as he knew the truth behind it all.

The only one who did.

As you felt is large hands press softly into the skin of your neck you almost wanted to flinch at how easy it was for him to actually kill you. There will always be people out there much more skilled than you ever could be. Much more powerful.

Tears welled in your eyes as you thought about it. You felt useless–like you life was miniscule. And it was in the eyes of your family. You didn’t realize a tear fell down your cheek until Namjoon moved to wipe at it.

“Are you truly okay, my queen?”

Namjoon’s acknowledgment of your title had you squaring your shoulders, looking at the man with a small smile on your face.

He was right. You were the queen–the one everyone called her majesty or bowed their heads to when you walked. It wasn’t your parents–your sister who walked with a smaller crown. It was you. Even if your family was the one who told you what to do in the end–you were the one who the kingdom saw as its queen. And you knew it was time to step into that role.

The time that passed was a long one. New bruises and wounds turned up on your body–hidden behind the hanbok you would wear. They would never dare to strike you across the face, not when the entire kingdom could see. They had images to keep up and people to boss around. It was their kingdom but you were the one they hated.

You still walked with your head held high, nose turned up as you tried to remain emotionless. You had learned to perfect the look with all the eyes that followed you everywhere. You didn’t dare to showcase any kind of emotion. You knew if you did they would see it. And they didn’t want their subjects to know the queen was being ruled by fear.

“Choosing a warrior for the princess is a perfect way of having her protected.” Your father’s general walked alongside the both of you.

“Here are the fine gentlemen who decided to take up the mantle. It gives the common people a chance as well to be part of the royal court.” He explained looking over the men he had watched train to be the best warriors they could be.

There were a total of 50 young and older men all standing in rows with hands behind their backs and legs spread to shoulder length. You didn’t bother to look at them because you knew that your family had already chosen you.

“Thank you, general.” Your father smiled brightly. “We would only want the best for our daughter.”

He turned to you, the grin on his lips making your stomach turn as you tried not to sneer. Your eyes immediately dropped from his face, turning around as you finally began to scan the warriors who suddenly raised their heads at your discretion.

“Your grace, please be sure to choose wisely. Munhee is your twin sister–she deserves to be protected just as much as you.” He offered in a sickenly sweet tone.

“Of course, father.” You spoke monotonously.

You begin to walk through the men, only picking you head up to give them a glance but continuing forward. You could see some of them gulp in worry while others let out breaths from your monotonous look. You were only courteous, meeting some of their eyes in order to make them think you were actually picking on your own.

You continued on through the rows, trying your best to act like your parents had told you to. But there was a second–just one second–where your facade dropped and you came to stand still. He stood in another row, a bit shorter than those next to him. But he still kept a stoic face–facing forward in the position the general had them all stand.

He was to the right of you, giving you the opportunity to see the long scar that ran down his face. There was a flutter in your heart that was created by anxiety. But it was fear, it was an anticipation that would lead you to win.

No one noticed the way you stopped to stare or the way you started to breath harshly. Namjoon had been the only one, eyes moving to scan the crowd as he tried to find what made you stop. Your father continued forward with the general speaking to himself as he thought you were walking alongside him.

“I hear that Sooyoung is quite the—”

“Him.” You interrupted your father.

“What?” He stopped, turning around to quickly find who you were looking at. “Who?”

You moved with calculated steps towards him, but he didn’t move from his position.

“The one with the scar?” Your father spoke bewildered, glancing between you and the man. “But your grace, you can't possibly want—”

“I'm positive he is more than capable of taking care of Munhee.” You didn’t dare to move your eyes from the man. “He looks like he's been through tough battles.”

“Oh well, I don't remember seeing him during training much.” The general frowned as he squinted his eyes at the scar on the man’s cheek.

“He does seem to have a memorable enough face.” The general tsked but moved to turn away and back to the front of the rows of men. “Step forward boy!”

With one last look at him, you turned to Namjoon who was following closely behind you. You watched him take in a breath, eyes scanning the man over as his eyebrows pulled together. Your face remained emotionless, turning around while lifting your nose up. You could see your father sneering as he began to follow behind you.

“State your name.” The general asked once all of you made it to the front.

“Agust.” He spoke deeply.

“What an odd name.” Your father waved off.

“Sounds western.” The general nodded to himself.

“Are you positive this is the one you will choose your grace?” Your father spoke up.

You could see the fury behind his eyes, the one that was clearly telling you to back out of the problem you had placed them all in. But you looked at him the same way you always would, not daring to move your head from his stare. You felt Namjoon grow closer to your back, his warmth seeping into your clothes. You moved your hand from under your sleeve–a silent request to tell him everything was okay.

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate.

“Very well. The ceremony shall take place later this afternoon.” The general spoke up, humming to himself as he began to gather the other men.

Yoongi watched as you didn’t give your father another look, walking away quickly with both your father and guard on your heels. Your robe billowed behind you as you fast walked, but he was quick to notice the way your father rushed up to you and caught our arm before the doors to the palace shut behind you all.

“(Y/N), what is the meaning of this?” Your father sneered, gripping onto your arm tightly. “We decided already who would be the royal guard.”

“I'm sorry—” You flinched, unnoticed by the way you spoke with no emotions.

Your lips turned downwards, a sneer waiting to overtake your face at the way your father was clutching tightly onto your wrist–enough to know it would be bruised in a little bit. Your hands clenched up, nails wanting to scratch at his arm for hurting you. But it wasn’t the right time.

“We will talk later.” With one last tight squeeze your father threw your arm from his grasp.

It made you jerk backwards, teeth clenched as you were quick to soothe the ache.

“Are you alright?” Namjoon walked closer to you, fingers lightly falling down your arm to take a look.

“Yes, I'm fine Namjoon.” You spoke, your emotionless voice causing him to straighten up.

As your gaze landed back on the closed doors the only thing that crossed your mind was the scar along that man’s cheek. There was no mistaking that mark–it was one that seemed to alter your way of thinking all together. You were brought back to the night that he held the knife to your neck. Made you bleed and a small barely noticeable scar being left behind.

Your hand went up to your neck, feeling the uneven skin under your fingertips.

“Namjoon, would you protect me if someone was to come and assassinate me?” You suddenly spoke up, looking towards the doors that lead to the courtyard.

“What kind of question is that?” The man gasped, looking at your incredulously. “Of course I would—with my life.”

“Why?” You said absent mindlessly.

“Because I am your royal guard—”

“Did you know there are people trying to kill the queen?” You stopped him, turning to face him completely.

He gulped, watching as you grew closer to him. “Isn't there always? But that won't stop me from protecting you.”

“It's a rebellion, isn't it? People wanting to kill me.” You quietly spoke, watching as his eyes scanned over your face before falling to your neck where he could see the scar.

His breathing began to grow rapidly, as he tried to come up with an answer. “They don't want to kill you—”

“So you know about it?”

“(Y/N), I swear I know nothing about it—” He began to sputter.

“Namjoon, you are the only person I can trust in this palace. The only one who knows the truth. And now I want you to be honest with me. As your queen, I demand you tell me the truth.” You demanded.

He suddenly stood up straight, taking in a deep breath. “Yes, your grace. There is a rebellion that is out to kill the queen. But it's not you they are after, it's Munhee. At least the one they're really after is Munhee.”

There was something that seemed to lift off your shoulder hearing those words. It didn’t make you feel any better however it did make you understand that there were plans that needed to be put into motion. Plans that you were going to accomplish with certain people on your side.

“(Y/N), did something happen?” He asked.

“That man.” You spoke up. “The one I placed as Munhee’s guard. You know him. I saw it in your face when I chose him.”

He watched as your nose twitched and your eyes went glassy. “Namjoon, are you part of the rebellion?”

“Never!” Namjoon shouted, taking a step closer to you. “I could never do you harm or wish for something as cruel as that to come to you. You mean everything to me. I will stop at nothing to protect you from those who wish you harm.”

Your breath got caught in your throat for a moment at his confession. His eyes expressed just how much he meant every word. Namjoon was the one person who had been with you since you were a girl hiding in corners from the abuse you would suffer at the hands of your family. He has seen you at your worst. Which means you had to be better for him.

“Then how do you know him?” You asked.

“I don’t personally know him. I’ve only ever seen him around the kingdom a couple of times.” Namjoon licked his lips, answering truthfully.

He paused for a moment, pressing his lips together. “However, there could be someone who might.”

The ceremony wasn’t anything spectacular. Only the army was present and those of the palace staff. After the general proclaimed his speech to those around, he handed you a sword which you took in a tight grip walking forward towards Agust who kneeled at the stop of the stairs.

“It is an honor to serve the royal family. As royal guard to the princess you shall take up the mantle as her protector.” You prattled off.

“You shall put your life before hers to guarantee her safety. Do you accept this position?” You spoke loudly, keeping your eyes downcasted on the man who was kneeling in front of you.

“Yes.” He spoke up, keeping his face down to the ground.

“I hereby name you a royal guard to princess Munhee. May your sword always be sharp and your will always stay strong.” You ended, making him rise to grip onto the sword you were handing over to him.

As he reached out for the sword that laid on your palms, your sleeve had moved down your arm, giving him full view of the darkening bruises in the shape of fingers on your wrist. He watched your hand suddenly clench onto the blade of the sword catching his attention and making him look up into your eyes.

Your face still remained emotionless, but you made a small movement to get him to take the sword. He was quick to take it, bowing his head once more as he began to sheath the blade. Your hands fell to your side, causing the sleeve to fall over your wrist once more.

There wasn’t much left of the ceremony other than you giving an emotionless speech about how you were grateful to the army for what they did. Once everything ended on a normal tone, the royal family turned around to enter the palace with the new royal guard in tow behind the entire entourage.

“I can't believe this is the man you appointed!” Munhee screeched. “How stupid can you be!? Haven't you already done enough!?”

She had been stomping her feet in front of you but quickly turned around to strike you across the face. Your face whipped to the side, not expecting the hit but you didn’t dare to make a sound or move a hand up to cradle your wound.

Yoongi watched with an emotionless face as you seemed to keep up the facade. Your guard was quick to step up to you, getting between you and the so-called princess. Yoongi glared at all of you, eyebrows pulling together at the debacle.

“You insolent girl. You deserve everything that is coming your way.” She sneered at you.

“Munhee!” The old king sneered. “Do not strike her face!? How many times have we told you!?”

His eyebrows only seemed to pull together deeper, trying to figure out what the whole dynamic was between everyone. It seemed you only remained emotionless as your large guard took your arm softly.

He didn’t understand what your place was in all of this. You were the queen who was above all of these people. And yet they seemed to take pleasure in screaming at you. You didn’t give any reaction to their words or actions–allowing them to do as they pleased. You were no queen after the whole thing.

“Namjoon, take her to the healers quickly before she bruises.” Your father turned to your royal guard. “They have to fix it before she goes out in public.”

“Of course.” Namjoon spoke through a clenched jaw, softly pulling you along.

You didn’t give Yoongi another look, keeping your head up as pieces of your hair fell out of your headpiece and into your face. He watched you leave before turning around as he heard the princess stomp closer to him.

“Ugly, good for nothing.” The princess sneered, quickly turning from him. “Don't look at me. Your face belongs in a cell.”

The way she had her lips pulled up and nose scrunched up made her look ugly. It seemed she had done that face so much it stuck to her skin. It was clear she was your twin somehow but for some reason Yoongi found himself claiming your face was much easier to look at.

“Forgive me.” Yoongi spoke monotonously.

“What do we do with him?” Munhee didn’t pay him any mind, turning to her parents.

“We'll have Namjoon teach him for now.” The old queen spoke carelessly. “Until we have a reason to get rid of him we can't do much. That would mean forsaking the general and his warriors.”

“Stupid traditions.” Munhee rolled her eyes. “Fine, keep him out of my sight. And give him a mask for when he is. I cannot stand to look at him.” She gave him one last sneer of her lips, stomping away with her parents in tow.

“Of course.” Some guard for your parents announced.

He began to walk away, so Yoongi assumed he was to follow after his superior. He was taken out of the back gardens and into another part of the palace. There were curtains that were billowing out of the room that gave it enough breeze. The guard takes Yoongi around the building towards the doors.

“You may stay here for the time being.” The guard explained, opening the doors to a wide spacious room.

“I will be sure to inform Namjoon of your whereabouts.” He bowed his head before turning to leave.

Yoongi had assumed he was left alone, watching with a raised brow as the guard seemed to walk away quickly. However when he suddenly felt a presence behind him, he was quick to turn. He watched as a stunning man seemed to tilt his head in confusion at the man.

He was dressed in a translucent robe that draped down his body. He wore expensive looking jewelry and was cleaned much better than even the royal family themselves. Yoongi could smell the perfumes the man wore from where he stood a good three feet away.

“New concubine? But no one said anything about it.” He spoke with a deep voice, but his eyes held childish wonder.

“Concubine?” Yoongi questioned.

“Are you not one?” The man asked, stepping closer to the scarred one. “Isn't that why they brought you here?”

“I was appointed as royal guard to the princess.” Yoongi immediately answered, keeping his stare on the handsome man.

“Makes more sense.” The concubine nodded to himself, lips forming a perfect pout. “Princess Munhee would never choose you.”

Yoongi suddenly frowned, giving the man an offended look.

“Taehyung, don't be rude.” Someone behind Yoongi spoke up.

He quickly turned around finding another man dressed the same as the one in front of him. However, this one seemed to have puffier cheeks and shorter in structure. He also carried himself more sensually–confident in what he looked like.

“I still think you're very handsome.” He smiled softly at Yoongi. “My name is Jimin. This is Taehyung. We are concubines for Princess Munhee.”

Once more the assassin was left confused. Why weren’t they concubines for the queen herself? It wasn’t really known that the princess had some of her own.

“The princess? Not the queen?” He spoke out loud.

“She doesn't have any.” Taehyung answered.

“Well except for Jungkook but he's just for show. He says he's never been with her let alone her bedroom. He's still a lucky bastard though. I wish I was (Y/N)'s concubine.” He pouted, crossing his arms in a childish manner.

“You like the queen?” Yoongi asked baffled.

“Like?” Taehyung tilted his head to the side. “I love her! She's so kind and patient. She always treats our wounds after we've been with Munhee. She gives us extra sweets when she comes to see us. Anyone would fall in love with her.” He sighed dreamily.

Yoongi couldn’t stand to hear all that was falling from the poor man’s mouth. He only saw someone who had been brainwashed into thinking the queen was someone kind and nurturing. It did leave him a bit baffled to remember that it was the queen who had been striked across the face by the princess but that didn’t mean her emotionless heart wasn’t real. It was clear by the way she didn't react to the way she was treated.

“She is a tyrant. How can you stand to live here as concubines? You don't get to see your family and as you said, you get wounds from the princess—”

“Exactly. From the princess.” Jimin interrupted, coming to stand in front of Yoongi.

Jimin looked at him with squinted eyes that made him look seductive. But his words made it seem like Jimin was waiting for Yoongi to figure everything out. “There are things within the palace that are not correct. You'll find that out soon enough.” He told the man vaguely.

The door suddenly open and all three men turned to look at who had entered. Taehyung beamed at Namjoon who gave the two concubines a bow of his head. Jimin only gave the man a small smile twirling around to go back to whatever it was he was doing before Yoongi had entered.

“Agust, please follow me.” Namjoon called for him.

Yoongi gave the two concubines one last look before following after the larger man. He began to lead him back to the main building, Yoongi trying to memorize the journey.

“My name is Kim Namjoon—you can call me Namjoon. I am the royal guard to queen (Y/N). We will be working together closely.” He explained.

Yoongi paused for a moment, clenching his jaw as he thought about the woman. “The queen—what did they do?”

“They gave her a cold patch.”

He lead Yoongi to another section of the palace that seemed to be full of different kinds of staff. It was close to the rooms of the royal families so Yoongi only assumed it was the building he would be staying in.

“This is where we stay. We share a room along with the other royal guards.” It was a quick thing before Namjoon took off once more from the guard quarters.

As Yoongi was looking around, trying to find escape routes or hiding places he didn’t notice Namjoon had come to a stop causing him to bump into the man.

“What are you doing here? Do you know the risks of getting caught? You should leave before something happens to both you and the queen.” Namjoon quickly spoke, causing Yoongi to look at him oddly.

Namjoon had a stern expression on his face but he didn’t care to reach out to kill the smaller man. It was clear that Namjoon knew who Yoongi was the moment he came into the palace. Namjoon was someone often spoken about within the group. One of the people who worked within the palace had explained that Namjoon would do anything to protect the queen from harm.

However he also said that Namjoon would be more than willing to be on their side. It left him at a confused headspace over the bigger man.

“I know that more than anything what will happen. I have a mission to complete. I can’t go back without results.” Yoongi spoke harshly.

“For what? A murder that is unjustified?” Namjoon glared.

“You know as well as everyone else just how justified it really is.” Yoongi retorted.

“I know you’re out to kill the wrong person. If you think you were the only one thinking about infiltrating the palace, you would be wrong.” Namjoon has his arms crossed, trying to make himself look bigger to intimidate the scarred man.

“Namjoon?” A soft voice spoke up behind them.

“I’m here, your grace.” Namjoon turned around to face you, watching as you walked closer to them with smaller robes that were easier to walk in.

“Hello. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” You spoke up calmly, staring Yoongi down.

“Cut the small talk. Why did you choose me?” Yoongi sneered, knowing the three of you were alone from others to keep from saying what he wanted.

Namjoon glared, about to take a step towards him but you subtly moved your hand out to keep him from getting closer.

“Did you not want to be chosen? Isn’t that why you infiltrated the army and applied to be the personal guard for Princess Munhee?” You questioned him.

“Why did you select me?” Yoongi pressed again.

You took a moment, irking him as you looked down at him.

“I don’t know.” You merely shrugged.

“I can kill you right now.” He placed a hand on the sword you had given him, causing Namjoon to reach for his own.

You stopped them though when you walked closer to Yoongi. “You can but it won’t solve your problems.”

“It will solve many.” He sneered.

“That’s what you think.” You told him.

He felt something in his chest watching you. He knew it was you, knew by the little scar that was under your head from the knick his blade had left months ago. Knew by the way you softly stared at him waiting for his next moves.

However you were different now. Different in the way you spoke—the way you held yourself. It was nighttime then though, he has never seen you before. But speaking with you now it wasn’t the same as the woman who was awaiting death with open arms.

“Where is she?” Yoongi asked.

“Who?”

“The girl who waited for me to move my blade. The one who was hoping I would.” He spoke quietly, keeping you stare.

“I found a better chance.” You told him, speaking in that voice that told him how there were worse things to fear other than death.

“One that lets me live the way I want. My personal guard will make sure to tell you of your duties. Do not mess it up.” You added sternly.

You turned around, Namjoon giving Yoongi one last harsh stare before turning to follow after you.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Namjoon asks you.

“I have suffered my whole life just for others to come and kill me in place of my sister.” You spoke softly looking down at the paper you had been writing on. “I’m done being the decoy they know they need. The plaything they would have their fun with when they were angry.”

You looked up when knocking comes from the door. “I was made the queen. And as far as the kingdom knows I am the Empress who rules. So that is what I will be.”

The double doors open wide as Yoongi struts his way in. Namjoon stands behind you with his hands clasped in front of him. He glanced your way, taking note of how you don’t bother to look up at him. From what the other concubines have claimed of you, Yoongi has yet to see it.

“Sit.” You tell him, going back to writing a letter.

He listens to your demand, sitting cross legged in front of your table as he waits for you to say something. It takes another 10 minutes before you do. By then Yoongi had a frown on his face from having wasted time sitting in front you, waiting.

“I have something to ask of you.” You told him.

When all you got was a raised brow, you continued. “I need you to take this to your leader.” You rolled up your letter and pushed it forward towards Yoongi.

“Leader?” He questioned.

“Don’t take me for a fool.” You clenched your jaw. “Someone sent you to kill me. And now I want to send them a letter.”

“Are you mad?” Yoongi scoffed.

“Not always.” You shrugged. “But you get tired after so much.”

There it was again—the jab at your past. The jab in Yoongi’s chest that made him rethink about killing you. It was the suffering he heard in your voice. The one that didn’t care about what happened to them because they had already been through so much.

“I don’t get it.” Yoongi told you.

“Don’t get what?” You questioned.

“This!?” He says pointing to the letter you wanted him to send to his leader “Everything around the place. I came here knowing one thing but come to learn it’s not right.”

“Information can get lost in translation.” You waved him off.

There was so much he didn’t understand. He hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with those in the group about the whole thing because he had been training with the army for the past couple of months. All he knew was that the queen was a tyrant who treated the people of her kingdom unfairly.

But now he wanted to know if he was looking at the right person.

“Tell me something.” Yoongi demanded.

“What is that?” You asked him.

“That a queen would allow someone beneath her to strike her.” He told you.

“What makes you think I’m not?” You asked him.

“Not what?”

“Beneath them?” You take a deep breath thinking over something. “At least in their eyes.”

This made him stop for moment. After witnessing the actions of her family Yoongi came to realize there were things wrong with the royal family. And after hearing the words of those who worked closely with them it was clear that the choice he made of sparing you was one that left his conscious free of guilt.

“Are you trusting me?” He questioned you, realizing that you were about to tell him the truth.

“You’re going to find out sooner or later. In case you haven’t—I’m not the real queen. I’m only the one who takes the harsh blows of the tyranny my family causes. I’m just their scapegoat.” You explained.

“If you do your job right there should be no consequences. You have my word.” You told him.

“Which job?” He questioned.

“You should know which one, Min Yoongi.”

Pt. 2 Y’all? Be sure to apply to my permenant taglist so you can be added to Pt. 2 if I come out with it lol.

Permanent Taglist: @hecateslittlewitchling , @ldysmfrst , @cryingpages , @rln-byg , @vampcharxter , @kenzie203 , @loveless-lie , @puppyminnnie , @marvel-potter-1d-korea , @emtrades22 , @wolfgurl2600-blog ,

#kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #bts min yoongi #min suga #suga smut #suga x reader #suga bts #yoongi #bangtan sonyeondan #agust d #bts fic #bangtan #bts suga

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hunksexydefeat · 6 months

Text

The Rebel, wearing his trademark bulging red posing briefs, faces off against the deadly Ironman in a locker room match. An ill-advised head butt attempt against Ironman has the Rebel quickly trapped in a sleeper hold which he desperately struggles to escape. Using every trick in the book, the Rebel is almost able to break free, but his opponent hangs grimly on as the last of the muscle jobber’s strength ebbs away. “Game over! Game over! You’re dead!” Ironman taunts, as the Rebel’s fabulous body grows limp and soon ceases its struggles altogether.

From pwpwrestling’s Mat Attack 4

#gay wrestling #sleeperhold #jobber #pwpwrestling

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mingtinys · 1 year

Text

[1:09 a.m.]

pairing : choi jongho x gn!reader

angst , fluff , hurt / comfort , lore based , outlaw!jongho , strictland!au

warnings : mentions of searches/raids , general ateez lore

word count : 1.0 k

requested? no

a/n : this fic is literally just the physical manifestation of how insane i feel about the trailers

You can't sleep. You're not sure how anyone can. Though it seems Yunho and Jongho have found a way, if their soft snores and still bodies are anything to go by. You can just barely make out the shape of their cots across the poorly lit room.

It's pitch back where the three of you sleep. Shut away in the musty confines that reside in the back of the mechanic shop the three of you use for cover. The door to which is concealed behind a false tool shelf. And though you know it's all in favor of staying hidden, you're not sure how much more of the space you can take tonight.

The walls echo far too much. Every noise from the outside seeps in and gets replayed on a haunting loop. Screams of rebels who couldn't escape in time. Boots stomping down the alleyway as Android Guardians begin their nightly watch. Homes being ripped apart by mandatory raids. Each sound sends your anxiety spiking through the roof.

Yunho stirs, and his cot makes a horrible creaking sound that startles you. You're surprised it doesn't wake Jongho, who recently developed the unfortunate habit of being a light sleeper. Your own cot whines under your shifting weight. The rock-solid mattress does nothing to help you relax. And the thin quilt over your legs starts to feel suffocating more than anything.

There's a shout in the distance, sirens, your body tenses. Your breathing becomes jagged and your gut screams at you to seek a way to ground yourself. You want– no, need comfort.

Your mind wanders to the two boys with you, gaze landing on Jeong Yunho first. He feels like the obvious answer. Gentle. Kind. A soft yet strong presence in a world you believed, prior to meeting him and his friends, had wiped away all that was good indefinitely. He'd probably stay up with you if asked, indulge your thoughts, and listen to your fears. Understanding and without judgment. But there's a pull at your heart and this little voice in the back of your head that pleads with you to seek out Choi Jongho instead.

A boy who, until a few months ago, you knew little about. He was the last to fully embrace you among the group of outlaws you'd stumbled upon some time ago. You never really knew what to make of him. At times, his hardened gaze and dauntless aura seemed cold. Intimidating. Unmoveable. Though it didn't seem to be out of disdain or indifference, but instead, an instinctual hesitance and innate urge to protect the only family he had left.

It wasn't until you were assigned to go undercover with him and Yunho that you finally began to understand one another on a deeper level. You told him of your past, your cause, and why you wanted to fight against the tyranny of your unjust world. And, eventually, he told you of his.

Yunho brought out a more playful side to him. And though they were rare, you had been privileged with occasional moments of carefree bliss with the two of them. You'd like to think you caught glimpses of who he might have been before all of this. When the world was okay. When he was allowed to show his emotions unfiltered.

You've grown to enjoy his peaceful and quiet nature. Seen moments of empathy and the concern that clouds his shiny eyes when Yunho cries about the unfairness of it all. Your feet carry you from your bed to Jongho's without much thought behind the action. Propelled by your growing nerves and heart slamming violently into your ribcage.

Reaching out, you gently shake his shoulder. He grumbles and turns to his side. Eyes still closed, he hums. "Mmm, what is it?" There's grogginess laced into his words, but he doesn't seem annoyed, which is good.

Still, you feel silly. Waking him up just because you're a little jumpy? Now that you're here, it even seems as though the outside noises have ceased. This is pointless, you think. But then that tiny voice in your brain pipes up once more and forces the request to form on your tongue.

"Can I stay with you for a little bit? Please." Though you whisper, your voice seems loud between the four walls and you cringe at how it echos.

Jongho peeks one eye open and you can see the gears cranking to life in his brain. He blinks a few times, looks to Yunho who's sleeping soundly, then back to you. His soft pout and half-lidded eyes don't give you much hope. For a moment, you consider rushing out an apology and returning to your own bed. But then, wordlessly, Jongho feels around for the edge of his blanket and lifts it. The metal frame of his cot squeaks as he shuffles and readjusts to create space for you to crawl in. You do. And that voice in your head finally quiets, as does the longing in your heart.

An impossibly strong arm encircles your waist and pulls you into Jongho's warmth. He cradles your head, face buried in his chest as his chin rests atop. "You're scared." He states, though you think he meant it as a question.

You wonder what gave it away first. The subtle shaking in your limbs, waver in your voice, the fact you sucked up every ounce of pride you had left just to approach him in the first place. But yeah, you are.

"Yeah."

Something metal clatters just outside and you flinch, fingers hurriedly fisting the back of Jonho's cotton shirt. He only holds you tighter.

"Me too," is all he says before letting out a long breath and allowing sleep to overtake him again. His movements still and his breathing evens out to a steady pace. You match it, letting the safety he provides guide you to your first peaceful night in a long time.

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ohbo-ohno · 8 months

Text

Kinktober Day 28 - Body Worship

Ghost x Soap - 1.2k (on ao3)

summary: Simon sneaks into Johnny's room after he comes back from a rough mission, and shows his appreciation. (Ghost POV)

cw: noncon somnophilia, overall creepy behavior and references to stalking

note: this has no sex or even sexual acts, ghost is just a creep (but a sappy creep!)

Johnny’s sleeping form makes Ghost’s heart skip a beat. He’s laid on his back, head and arms propped up on pillows, wearing only a tight pair of boxers. His face is relaxed, handsome and serene, and Ghost wants nothing more than to see him blink open his pretty eyes, see him smile and pull the blankets down to offer up space by his side.

But he's on top of the blankets, taking up as much space as he physically can, and drugged up on so many pain meds there's no possibility he wakes up in the next ten hours.

Nearly every inch of his skin is painted black and blue. Two fingers on each hand are taped together - middle and ring on his left, pointer and middle on his right, left thumb taped up - and bandages wrap around his right shoulder, his left ankle, his right knee, and his ribs. His nose is puffy and red from being reset earlier, one eye is already swollen enough that Ghost knows he won’t be able to see out of it when he tries to open it. His scalp is decorated in little cuts kept together with butterfly stitches, a few down his arms and across his chest as well.

If Ghost were a religious man, he’d say Johnny looks like an angel. As it is, he thinks Johnny must be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He hates that his boy is so injured, hates that he wasn’t there to bathe Johnny in the blood of every man who dared lay a hand on him. His only comfort is the knowledge that Soap and Gaz had slaughtered the terrorists they’d been sent after, Soap himself getting to enjoy most of the kills if Gaz's report was accurate.

He knows Johnny is more than capable of handling himself in any situation, but it makes guilt settle deep in Simon’s chest that he ever even has to.

There's a darker part of his that rebels against the idea that the bruises covering his boy's body were left by someone else. If anybody's going to hurt Johnny, it should be Ghost. The idea that anyone else got to see him in pain, go to see his blood, makes Ghost's blood heat.

He sinks onto the mattress beside Johnny’s bandaged ankle, laying a hand across the injury and stroking softly. He was right about the meds - Johnny’s so drugged out that he doesn’t even twitch.

Ghost knows he’s a light sleeper, usually has to make sure he’s as quiet as possible when he sneaks into Johnny’s room at night. This is the first time he’s got some freedom, the first time he doesn’t have to worry about how easy it is to wake Johnny up.

He eases his way to his knees, then between Soap’s thighs. His poor boy moans a little when he spreads his legs, and Ghost instinctually shushes him. He can’t help but smile when the small comfort works and Johnny goes quiet again, settles back into the pillows and stilling his small shifts.

He starts his worship with Johnny’s feet. He cups his left foot in his hand, strokes carefully and slowly over the bandages and the top of his foot. He gives each of his toes a kiss, licks between them each and gives them a short suck. He kisses his way up the top of Soap’s foot, flutters several quick pecks all over the bandage, carefully light.

He moves further up Johnny’s leg, kissing every little scrape or cut and licking every bruise. He coats nearly every inch of Johnny’s skin in his spit and his breath, tilts his leg to the side just a bit so he can see the back of his calf. He’s careful to move slowly, lets his hands stroke all over Johnny’s flesh in soft petting motions to soothe him.

He hums a bit when he makes it to Johnny’s knee, rubs it a bit in what he hopes is a comforting way, and continues up to his thigh. He’s meticulous in his praise, makes sure not to leave a single injury untouched. Any inch of skin his lips don’t touch, his hands do.

He lowers himself back to Johnny’s feet, starts the process again with his right foot. He’s languid and slow, letting his love for Johnny’s body truly seep from him and into the man’s every pore. Johnny will never know Simon was here, but he wants his boy to wake up in the morning and feel his claim - irrational as it may be.

He doesn’t touch Johnny’s cock, leaves it safely tucked away in his black boxers. If Johnny were less injured, he might roll him to his stomach, spend a while massaging his ass and becoming more acquainted with his thighs. As it is, any major movement runs the risk of waking Johnny up, so Ghost instead shifts up until he’s straddling Johnny’s hips and carefully keeps his weight off the smaller man.

He continues his treatment onto Johnny’s chest - a kiss for every scratch, a lick for every bruise. He pets along Johnny’s bandages, starts planning different ways he can bully Soap into letting him change them for him. He usually doesn't have to do too much intimidation to get Johnny listening, but his sergeants has never been willing to let others see him hurt - Ghost already anticipates quite the tantrum when he establishes himself as Johnny's aide until he's healed up.

After a while, his hands move from Johnny’s ribs to his arms. He strokes from fingertip to collarbone, soft movements that leave goosebumps in their wake.

He spends a bit more time on Johnny’s face, though it’s the least injured part of him. He wants to coax Johnny’s lips open, lick into his mouth and around his slack tongue, discover every nook and cranny of his mouth and memorize his taste. But he holds back, reminds himself that he wants to have that experience for the first time with Johnny needy and desperate beneath him, not limp and sleeping.

Still, he can’t resist leaving a soft kiss on Johnny’s lips. They’re bone dry, so he licks over them just a bit, so they won’t crack when Johnny wakes up. He moves onto the rest of his face, lays fluttering kisses across his swollen nose, a feather-light kiss against his purple eye that's really more of a brushing of lips, and runs his tongue along all the cuts along his cheeks and scalp.

His poor, beaten boy. If he could, Ghost would bring those terrorists back to life and rend them limb for limb for doing this to Johnny.

He doesn’t want to leave Johnny all alone. Already his heart cracks in his chest at the thought. But he isn’t ready for Ghost, won’t be ready for some time in all likelihood. So Simon will continue to linger as his sergeant’s shadow, keep him close and protected as much as he can.

He couldn’t protect him from this, though.

Ghost leaves a final kiss on Johnny’s lips, one last apology. It nearly tears him in two to pull away, but he manages it. Runs a hand down the length of his boy's body one more time, rubs the top of his less-injured foot firmly.

It’s nearly impossible for him to leave the room. He only manages it by planning all the ways he’ll coerce Johnny into staying by his side in the coming weeks.

#kinktober 2023 #ghoap #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #bo writes #john soap mactavish x simon ghost riley #john mactavish x simon riley #johnny soap mactavish x simon ghost riley #soap mactavish x ghost riley #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #kinktober day 28

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missellaneousworks · 1 year

Text

Just Right - SDJ Drabble

I wanted Jack x MC fluff, so I made Jack x MC fluff. Enjoy!

___

Your eyes crack open, the sunlight trickling in through the blinds on your bedroom window. Squinting, you turned your head away in stubborn indignation, rebelling against the light of day. Though you knew it was only a matter of time before your primary collared boyfriend would rouse you from your comfy fortress of solitude.

...

.....except, he never did. Maybe he decided to make breakfast, then wake you up? A nudge against your leg brought you out of your thoughts to see Jack's surprisingly serene face, nestled in his own pillow. His breath was slow and even, it dawned on you that this was probably the most relaxed you had seen him in a while. You hadn't gotten used to it yet, but it never failed to make your heart flutter seeing him like this.

You regarded him for a moment, lightly brushing the blue strands of hair from his face, his lips quirked into a small, content smile that made your heart positively melt in adoration. It was illegal how gorgeous he looked. It occurred to you that Jack must have secretly been exhausted since you couldn't pinpoint a time when he looked anything less than chipper when he was with you. That brought a wave of concern, he'd always been taking care of you since you two first met. In the beginning, it was helpful, friendly suggestions. Later, once you got used to his presence, he physically helped around the house more. Now he was your best friend and lover, and his attention for you was nothing if not loving and constantly supportive. You couldn't ask for a better boyfriend, that was the truth. Suddenly, there was a pang of guilt that burrowed in your chest; was the reason why Jack was so exhausted because of you?

You nibbled on your bottom lip, pondering, wondering what you could do to remedy this. Taking a page from your now sleeping boyfriend, you thought to yourself, 'What would Sunny Day Jack do in this situation?' The answer was more obvious than you originally thought: make breakfast!

'It's the most important meal of the day to get your body moving and awake!' Why not give Jack a break from cooking breakfast for once? That way he could sleep in a little!

Now... getting up without waking Jack up was going to be a different hurdle, seeing as he was a light sleeper. You tried moving nice and slow first, trying to balance your weight on the bed so you wouldn't tip him off. Just when you were halfway off the bed, Jack's face contorted in discomfort and you saw his one arm reaching out for you. You silently scuttled away but knew he would probably wake up soon. Hastily, you glanced around the bed to give his wandering arm something else to hold on to and your eyes landed on your own pillow. Cautiously, you dipped your pillow just below Jack's reach aaaaaand... he took the bait, grabbing the pillow and bringing it close to him like a teddy bear. Adorable.

You couldn't get distracted now, though. The clock was ticking, and you guessed Jack would probably be fully awake within thirty minutes. Time to get to work! After 'borrowing' Jack's blue, cloud-printed bathroom you made your way over to the kitchen. What could you make that was relatively simple? Scrambled eggs? Protien-based, but maybe too simple. French toast? Delicious, but a bit too much work that you wanted to put the effort in right now. Your mind landed the old waffle iron in the back of your cabinet. Waffles! Perfect!

After combining the ingredients for the batter, you shifted around to pull out the old iron. It was from another one of your hunts at the thrift store, and you managed to score this for $7.00, another steal in your shopping expeditions! After plugging the iron in to heat you got another idea and grabbed a secret ingredient for the waffles: Chocolate chips!

Within minutes, the apartment was smelling sweet and delicious. After plating the waffle and adding a handful of berry fruits in a side dish and placing it onto a tray, you finished it with a tall glass of orange juice. You did the exact same process for the second waffle for yourself (Hey, you had to eat as well, and breakfast was the most important meal of the day, according to your blue-haired boyfriend). Satisfied with your presentation, you lifted the tray in preparation for the tiptoe back to the bedroom, when a sleepy voice called out...

"...Sunshine?" Looks like Jack woke up just in time!

"I'm coming back in," You called back tentatively in a sing-song voice. "Wait right there, Jack!"

"O...kay?" Relief seemed to seep into Jack's voice, followed by a dash of confusion, but he complied, staying up on the bed while sitting upright. Within moments you waddled in carrying the food tray, and the source of the sweet aroma he caught a whiff of when he awoke earlier. He couldn't help the smile that stretched crossed his face, his eyes softening. "Sunshine, whatcha got there?"

"Breakfast!" You chirped triumphantly. As you handed the tray to him.

"Aww, Sunspot," He took the tray, careful not to rattle the contents, but a twinge of confusion was still present in his voice. "You didn't have to do all of this for me."

"Yes, I did, shaddap." Despite the words, you couldn't help the playfully admonishing tone. "You take care of me all the time, so I wanted to do the same for you for a change."

"I... you..." Jack trailed off, at a loss for words before recovering. "This is such a nice surprise! You really didn't have--" Without warning, you used his fork to cut a piece of his chocolate chip waffle and gently fed it to him.

Feeling a little proud of yourself that you surprised the ever-charismatic Sunny Day Jack, you couldn't help but to gloat. "I know, but like I said, I wanted to. You deserve to be spoiled, too, Jack."

Jack snorted, then proceeded to chew the bite you had so graciously given him. Gradually, the expression on his face began to change into... something else. Something soft, something that made his eyes shine in awe and... adoration. Oh, he was looking at you with adoration. The corners of his mouth quirked up into the tenderest of smiles. "Thank you, Sunshine, this is... looks really, really, good." And yet, his eyes seemed like they were lost in thought.

Your heart sank slightly. "...Do you not like chocolate chip waffles?"

"O-oh, no! This is delicious! Honestly, this puts my pancakes to shame." He laughed with a twinge of embarrassment. It was so unusual to see Jack trip up his own words, which was equal parts concerning and amusing. "I don't think anyone has ever made breakfast for me like this."

"What, not ever?"

Jack chuckled, as he used his fork to cut off a piece. "Not that I can remember. It's... different but it's really nice."

You scooched closer, careful not to tip over your own plate on the bed. "You deserve to get spoiled, too, y'know." You repeated, with more loving conviction this time, resting your head on his shoulder.

Jack bowed his head, resting his head on top of yours. He breathed in, your scent and presence being a comfort to him. "You're too good for me, Sunspot."

"Hmm, funny, because I was thinking something similar about how good you are to me."

"Haha, well, looks like we've both found ourselves in a predicament. What should we do about this?" His voice was soft and alluring, and you knew it wasn't a rhetorical question this time.

You playfully contemplated for a means of compromise between the two of you, before snapping your fingers, the idea so simple and absolute.

"What if... we're just right for each other?"

"Just right?"

"Yeah," the twinkle in your triumphant eyes were unmistakable to Jack. "You can spoil me every once and a while, and I get to do the same to you. If we're both doing it, then we balance each other out."

Jack's heart swelled with love at your proclamation, lifting your unoccupied hand and giving it a gentle, deliberate kiss upon your knuckles.

"That sounds perfect to me, Sunshine."

#Sunny Day Jack #Something is Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SDJ #sdj fanfiction #SDJ Drabble #SDJ MC #MissElla's Work

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