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justalonelyslytherin · 1 year

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My Kingdom, Your Kingdom | five

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Pairing: secret king!Steve Rogers x heir apparent!female Reader

Summary: After the girl's stay is settled - for now, it is time to plan some of their vacation time. For the first time in their life, they can lean back and enjoy a vacation. They will need some necessities though. Clothes for example

Warnings: slight mention of parental loss

Wordcount: 3k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don’t allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don’t steal my work.

A/N: The dividers are made by @/firefly-graphics. This story took an unplanned break, mostly to be blamed on my university life. I'm more than happy to return to this story and its characters and hope you'll be as excited to dip back into the story with me.

Taglist: open, in the reblogs, let me know if you want to be added

“I’m not sure if I find what you did genius or outright stupid.” Natasha looked at her with narrowed eyes. The words carried a heavy judgment cloaked behind feigned indifference.

“Your plan was so risky.”

“What plan?” Yelena’s words were met with another – mocking – rebuttal of the redhead. A clear display of disdain. It was a challenge. One that was heightened through the brazen raise of her younger sister’s brow.

“I’m doing this for you. So you can have the adventure you longed for,” Y/N told them, tense. Squaring her jaw, she glared at the two younger siblings. “All I have been doing is so you can have a piece of the freedom you so crave, to give you what you deserve.”

Her focus shifted to Yelena alone, “But in case you haven’t noticed, we aren’t at home where we are well protected. We are in a lot of potential danger here. Taking it lightly and ignoring what could happen is not the way to go. Carelessness is nothing we can afford.”

Yelena pressed her lips to a tight line, the corners of her mouth pulling downwards. Silence spread over them. Uneasy, dense silence, as her words had reached a far deeper place in them. Each one turned to their own internal conflict and thoughts.

“What are we going to do then? What's our plan?” Natasha spoke up after a long bout, causing Y/N to sigh.

“Stay, for now. Try to come up with a way to get the car working. Leave before the end of the week.”

“And what if there is no way to get the car running again?” Yelena piped up. It conjured another bout of silence between the three of them. None the wiser.

It was the question of a very real problem they could stumble into. Having the car stay in the cold for days surely wouldn’t enhance its viability. Without the car, their chances dropped drastically close to zero. Maybe they could try to steal their host's car, yet she would rather do anything than betray their kindness like that.

It was Natasha who spoke up, offering a different solution. “Then we give up our location.” Two pairs of eyes turned towards the redhead, confusion shining in them, neither knowing what she was insinuating.

“What do you mean?”

“The car. You didn’t think he gave us a regular one, did you? It’s an official state car.” Natasha leaned forward on her knees, a smile pulling at her lips as her eyes twinkled, “Made to blend in with civilian ones, bulletproof but more importantly equipped with a GPS tracker.”

“How do you know that?”

The redhead shrugged, even as her older sister looked at her warily. She had a distinct feeling that her sister would not give her an answer, no matter how much she kept poking. Perhaps it was best she didn’t know. Her sister had her mysterious ways to obtain information and it was best it stayed that way.

Revealing their location to their keepers and guards was a possibility but one they had to consider carefully. They’d have to do a lot of explaining in that case. At the same time it was reassuring to know, should they fail, there was another failsafe solution.

“How is the GPS tracker going to help us?” Yelena wanted to know crossing her arms.

“It has a button to send out a distress signal–”

“No.” She interrupted immediately. “Not a chance. We are not going to do that.”

“What why?” Both younger sisters looked at her in shock, Yelena seemed to contemplate if she had actually lost her mind.

“Because we do not want to create a political conflict! How will it look if we send a distress signal from outside of Sokovia’s borders?” No, they couldn’t do that. It would create a war with both sides believing the other to have started it with an act of aggression. But that also meant their failsafe option wasn’t so failsafe anymore. In fact, it wasn’t an option anymore. “We have to get the car going.”

Simultaneously they released a heavy sigh as Yelena slumped backward. She turned her head towards the ceiling and grumbled under her breath. “... aren’t mechanics…” Natasha seemed to be less defeated, still trying to be optimistic and even more so trying to work with what they had.

"Alright. Assuming we get the car going again. How are you planning to tell the boys we won’t be accepting the offer to travel with them? They think we are refugees.”

“Where’d they even take that conclusion from?” Yelena butted in, looking back down.

“Oh you know because ‘the future heir of our bordering enemy country and her two sisters trying to have a vacation’ is the most logical conclusion if you ran into three lost girls in the woods by night.” Natasha snipped with a roll of her eyes.

“Hey!” The redhead and the blonde looked at her, both pressing their lips together as they at least tried to look apologetic. “Fighting between each other is the last thing we should do right now.

It’s really not that far-fetched for them to have come to this conclusion. We were secretive and reserved, I bet we looked pretty spooked to them. Stranded, lost, wandering around.

Remember everything we were told about Brooklyn? I am now convinced that most of it was blatant lies and if we got dished up lies, who’s to say they weren’t fed an equal amount of bullshit about Widovia?”

It was entirely feasible for their views to have been clouded by lies. Who wouldn’t try to make their enemies look worse? There was no blame to be held. She’d been told those lies, she’d believed those lies just as Steve and his friends had believed the things they’d been told. How could you know a lie was a lie if it was the only thing you were ever told? How was a bird to know there was life outside the cage it was born in if it had never left the cage?

“As for that,” she replied with a heavy sigh, “We’ll have to lie to them I fear. Say we want to stay here in the village.” She felt crushed thinking about the inevitable lie that would have to roll over her lips.

Something in the deepest parts of her heart screamed and rebelled just thinking about being untruthful to Steve. There was the duty she had to her sisters and her home, it demanded certain deeds be done. Yet it couldn’t lift the dreadful feeling.

“We still have some time until then.” Natasha spoke, the softest she had spoken in a while, as she looked at her big sister. It brought a smile to Y/N’s otherwise weary, tired lips.

For the first time since waking up, she felt lighter and not worried. Those feelings of weightlessness transcended her sisters, and soon they fell into a relaxed and animated talk about unimportant things.

For the first time since arriving here, it felt like somewhat of a vacation. The feeling didn’t wane as the boys came walking out of the kitchen. They’d shooed the girls out after breakfast, denying any help to tidy up the kitchen.

Sam and Bucky’s shirts were marked with countless wet spots. It looked like they had fought a battle instead of doing the dishes. The suds clinging to Sam’s jaw emphasized this observation once more. A smile crept across her lips as she saw the damp strands of blonde hair hang over Steve’s forehead, suds and bubbles clinging to the tufts. It was blatant that he had been caught in the crossfire or partaken, perhaps even instigated it, judging by the sly smile creeping onto his lips after she crooked her head in question.

The early morning talk during breakfast had cleared up any ill feelings or off vibes, yet it still surprised her as the three men spread out in between them, taking their seats on the couches. Steve sank down into the spot beside her, his weight curving the cushions down. Gravity pulled her towards him, their legs and shoulders touching as she was pressed to his side. Bucky and Sam suited themselves beside her sisters, which especially in Bucky’s case felt weird to see. The brunette and the redhead eyed each other from the corners of their eyes, briefly nodding before they turned back front and tried to stay as casual as possible. Observing made her snort quietly, it felt somewhat awkward and shy, something she couldn’t say she had ever seen Natasha be.

“You didn’t flood anything, did you?” Yelena spoke up, eyeing the wet spots on their clothes with amusement and mocking. “I didn’t pack any Bikinis.”

It caused them all to laugh. To properly laugh. The mixture of voices made her heart beat faster, happier. And as she watched Sam and Bucky interact with her sisters, she understood what Steve had said to her about his friends the night before.

“Rest assured the kitchen is dry. You won’t get wet unless you decide to go swimming in the lake outside.”

Bucky scoffed at that, “You’d have to break the ice before.”

“Don’t make it sound like that’s such a challenge.”

“That ice is thick enough to skate and play hockey on, bird brain. I’d like to see you try to break it.”

“You can’t play hockey on ice.” Yelena muttered, looking at the bickering males in confusion. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her lips pulled down. It was her characteristic pout, a face she had only ever seen her younger sister pull with Natasha or her.

"Yes, you can.” Sam argued against it, pausing to eye her thoughtfully. “Don’t tell me you have never witnessed ice hockey.”

“Well, I haven’t. It sounds fake.” The indignation and sureness in Yelena’s voice amused her, but what made her crack was Sam and Bucky’s dumbfounded looks. They’d obviously hadn’t reckoned for Yelena to be serious.

She wasn’t the only one highly amused at this, as Steve let out a snort. Quickly he tucked his chin towards his chest, hiding his face. His shaking shoulders betrayed him.

Sam and Bucky jumped into a scandalized, in-depth explanation of ice hockey, supported by dramatically frantic hand gestures, yet all she could focus on was Steve beside her, still chuckling to himself in glee.

“Is your sister always so straightforward?”

“Oh, you haven’t experienced half of it. This is only the tip of the iceberg. She’s unforgivingly blunt.”

“Seems like she is quite the firecracker.”

“She is. She definitely is.”

Together they glanced at the scene unfolding on the opposite couch. It was a funny sight, seeing Sam and Bucky so determined to convince Yelena of the sport.

“But have you ice skated before? Do you know what skates are? You know shoes that look like they have knives strapped to their bottom?” Sam lifted his foot and mimicked what was supposed to be the blades a skate possessed. Yelena scoffed in revolt.

“Yes I have, I didn’t grow up under a rock! We have ice skating in Widovia, you dumbass.”

“Ice skating is a national sport.” Natasha piped in to stop Yelena from getting worked up even more. “Every child knows how to skate.” “So you can skate?” Bucky asked to confirm, a teasing lilt to his words. Yelena and Natasha nodded in unison.

“There is no one better at ice skating than Nat.” “Now that I’d like to see. No one has been able to best Bucky before.” A rumbling went through the crowd at Sam's contest. Steve let out a long ‘ohhh~’ beside her, causing her to glance at him. The silliness of the situation made her smile. For the first time, she saw Bucky grin widely. It had a wicked nuance to it, haughty and blinding as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

“There is only one way to find out,” he drawled, more or less challenging.

“I hope you are ready to land on your ass,” the redhead told him, smirking and cocking a brow at him. Another wave of ‘oohs’ sounded

“I don’t think we have any skates in the lodge.” Steve noted, drawing the attention towards him. Four pairs of eyes landed not only on him but also on her. Some were more subtle than others in the way they eyed the close proximity between the two. The sly grin blossoming on Natasha’s lips told her she wouldn’t hear the end of her teasing. “There might be a pair or two from when we were kids, don’t think they’ll fit anymore.”

“Yelena has tiny feet, I bet we could get her shoved into a pair.” The youngest of the three sisters shot her a dirty glare, underlined with a pout. It made her snicker.

“We can surely rent some from the ice rink in town.” Sam noted.

“You’ll also need some other clothes. Something warmer and thicker,” Bucky noted, eyeing the girls. Their clothes - while still wintery - were not made to stay outside for longer periods of time. Neither were they suited to keep them dry. Even if, they couldn’t keep wearing the same things for the rest of the week.

Empty and quiet lay the room, shrouded in mostly darkness. From the carpeted wooden hallway just outside the drag of steps drawing closer could be heard. The shadow of a pair of feet appeared below the crack of the door, the even mix of voices however pointed to more than one person.

The key being inserted into the lock sounded of a metallic nature, reminiscent of the old brass keys used in castles and historic buildings dating centuries back, it wasn’t much younger than any of those, so it was fitting. With 3 resounding clicks as the key turned the mechanism inside, the lock gave way. The bronze handle moaned in complaint to operate after many years of neglect. A beam of light pushed its way through the larger growing slit of the door opening. Particles of dust danced in the brightness.

Then, a loud sneeze.

“Bless you,” Yelena chimed in from further back in the hallway, largely unbothered by the thick layer of dust that had been disrupted. Steve, at the front of the crowd and the one to have opened the door, wasn’t as lucky. He rubbed at the underside of his nose with the knuckle of his pointer, sniffling and squinting into the room. “It’s, ugh, a bit dusty,” he mumbled the obvious.

“When’s the last time anyone was in there?” Bucky asked, leaning against the wall just by the door, peering over Steve’s shoulder at the room full of treasures. Treasures, not in worth but in memory.

There came no answer from Steve. He couldn’t say but he knew it was too long. Glancing back at Bucky, no words had to be said for the Brunette to understand. They hadn’t been back here since he’d lost his mother.

Sam eyed the pair of them, he could feel their hesitancy to take the necessary step forward. Sentiment and memories, feelings not yet felt fully held them back. So he made the step for them. He rounded Steve, setting the first foot into the room. And then another one. And another one after that, until he reached the window at the far back of the room, between shelves, drawers, and other things. The handle of the window creaked as much as the door had, yowling under the sudden movement, protesting in a not-so-silent plea.

At once unfiltered sunlight streaked into the room. The light greedily stretched out until it illuminated every speck and nook it could reach. Crisp, fresh air followed, pouring in much slower but steadily it swapped out the stale air.

“Gotta give whatever we find in here a good wash first,” Sam said, standing in the middle and turning in all directions to examine the many things stored away.

“It’s not like there isn’t a perfectly fine washing machine just downstairs.” It was Bucky then that set foot into the room, eyeing the shelves with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Steve, who still stood at the door, turned towards the three girls in the hallway. They had followed but taking a polite distance.

His nod was what let Natasha and Yelena trickle into the room as well. Only she remained, examining the blonde closely. It hadn’t been his good manners that prompted Steve to yield, to let them enter first, it was the hesitancy to step into the room that glued him to his spot. One hand resting on the frame of the door, it seemed to have a mind of its own clutching the wooden work.

She reached out to him, her fingers barely brushing the fabric of his sweater on his back, when his eyes snapped to her. Clouded in emotions, he looked startled for a split second before he hung his head, smiling defeated and bashfully.

“It’s just a room.”

“Just a room,” she agreed with a hum.

Steve looked up at her in surprise. He hadn’t anticipated having her confirm his words, no less to have her sound so familiar with them. The hesitancy in him she’d recognize anywhere. It wasn’t hard to spy something she was so familiar with. Akin to what she had felt many times before.

Steve’s hand slowly loosened, pulling away from the door frame. He turned towards the door, shoulders bracing, and taking a deep breath. In his moment of preparation, his search for readiness, his hand once again evolved a life on its own.

Butterflies started to bloom in her stomach as Steve’s fingers brushed against hers. It was a faint touch, barely there and over as fast as it had happened. Those blue eyes of his glanced back at her, clear-headed once more.

“Hey Steve, do you have a clue where exactly those clothes are supposed to be? So we got a place to start looking?” Sam’s voice carried out of the room.

"Yeah, punk." We’ll be occupied for the rest of the week if not.” Bucky complained shortly after. It was no surprise he did, she understood as she followed Steve - at last - into the room.

#steve rogers x reader #my kingdom your kingdom #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #king!steve x heir apparent!reader #modern royalty au #royalty au #christmas au

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imagine-darksiders · 2 years

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Please excuse the random omission of context, but I wanted to share a little moment of Eden's Heir that I wrote today during lunch break. I don't know if I'll include this moment in the fic, but I'm trying to get a feel for how these three interact with each other.

This conversation/scene takes place in the Void, where Y/n, War and Strife are taking a moment of downtime following the fight with Mammon.

-----

“Have you guys ever heard of marriage?”

You sit on the precipice of a rocky outcrop, letting your pristine wedding shoes dangle precariously over the swirling, green miasma that stretches on for an apparent eternity far, far below you.

Strife is the first to join you on the ledge, dropping down next to you in a clamorous racket of silver armour and a satisfied sigh. The battle with Mammon had been an exhausting one, and evidently, even a mighty Horseman is all too eager to take a load off every once in a while.

“Sure, we've heard of it,” Strife replies casually, tapping his silver claws along the back of the little, wooden horse you'd 'rescued' for him from Mammon's lair, “S'just a... combination of two things, right?”

Behind you both, War, the larger Horseman, remains standing, casting his thunderous glare out over the void with his impervious chin held high, because heaven forbid that the strange, humourless man might let himself relax every now and again.

“A unification...” he supplies, ever the stoic.

“Uh.. Okay, yes..." You trail off to smooth out the rumpled fabric of your dress before piping up once again, "But, what about the marriage of two people? Do you have anything like that?”

Turning his helm to peer down at you, Strife cocks his head like an inquisitive bird and scoffs. “Marriage of people? That'd be a new one.”

“Weddings?” you try, “Husbands and wives? Brides and Grooms? None of that rings a bell?” Two puns in one? If Strife looked like he knew what you're talking about, you've no doubt he'd be proud of your joke.

You don't have to look over your shoulder to know that War is regarding you with a befuddled squint. You can practically feel his glacial, blue eyes burning a hole into the back of your head.

Strife too stares down at you blankly before he lets out a little huff of laughter and tosses the wooden horse into the air, catching it again deftly in his hands. “You know what, lady?” he chuckles, “I'm startin' to think you make up half the words you say, just to mess with me and my brother.”

Twisting your lips into a grin, you tut loudly and, without thinking, bend your elbow and nudge the Horseman in his armoured side, too busy rolling your eyes up at the false sky to notice the way he goes ramrod straight for a moment, fixing his gaze first on you before dragging it down to the spot on his ribs that you'd elbowed.

“I am not messing with you!” you return, blissfully unaware that War's fingers have frozen just above Chaoseater's hilt, “Marriage between two people is like, a big deal on Earth. Or... it will be.” You place a hand over your temple, pressing delicately against it as if to alleviate an inevitable headache. You're still not sure if you'll ever wrap your head around the fact that you're several-thousand years removed from your own time, and apparently, the humans that exist here would be considered prehistoric to a modern woman such as yourself.

Strife is the first of the two Horsemen to recover, shaking himself loose once again before you can glance his way and see the stiffness in his spine. “Yeah, we, uhh-” he raises a gauntlet and coughs into his fist, “-We don't exactly get out much.”

“Well, regardless," you sigh, "Marriage is... for humans, it's... kind of.. it's...” You have to pause to gather your thoughts. How in the world are you meant to explain such a convoluted concept to a pair of ethereal, intimidating Horsemen of the Apocalypse?

Puffing out your cheeks and exhaling noisily, you at last find the words to continue. “It's different for every human, I think. But basically, marriage is a legal... bond, I suppose. It's where two people – who are usually deeply in love, mind you - make a mutual decision to tie themselves to each other, for life. Financially, legally... and emotionally.”

The Nephilim men are silent for a few, ponderous moments, staring blankly down at you until, surprisingly, War beats his brother as the first to speak.

“You tie yourself to another human...? Surely that would impede your range of motion.” Disgruntled, his snowy-white brows furrow and he scowls down at the ground, missing the sight of you pressing your lips together to withhold a snort. “What if one of you is killed? Is the other expected to haul around dead weight for the rest of their life?”

Something tells you that laughing at the hulking brute behind you wouldn't be one of your better ideas. Composing yourself, you fashion a patient smile and twist around to aim it at the hooded Horseman. “It's a metaphor, big guy. You're not actually tied up to anybody. It's more like you're... uhhh, tethered by a promise.”

Understanding seems to dawn across War's expression and in a moment so rare you immediately catalogue it, his permanent scowl eases by a single, yet precious inch. “Ah, so it is a binding pact then,” he muses, “But, you mentioned before... you were not happy with the arrangement..” There's a flicker of something dark in his face then, one that sets an uncomfortable stone in your belly. At once, his brows snap together again and he fixes you with a cutting glare. “You said you weren't certain if you wanted to go through with sealing the pact with this... Ryan.”

------ brrr War sticks his foot in his mouth here or smthing----

It's a slow process, the dulling of what little light had sparked so briefly in your eyes. Strife notices its disappearance.

War - blunderbuss though he may be - spots it too.

A shadow flits across your expression as you brace a hand on the cold ground and gather your legs up from the edge of the outcrop, shuffling them underneath you so you can push yourself onto your feet. “You sound just like them,” you mumble, keeping your eyes stubbornly averted from War's.

The enormous Nephilim's glare never wavers, not even when he detects the unambiguous warble of hurt lacing your voice. However, against his better judgement, he works his jaw for a second and finds himself asking, “Who?”

You let out a scoff, folding your arms neatly across your chest. “Uh, everyone? His family. My family... My friends...”

Not for the first time, War misses the depth of what he's hearing, too preoccupied with aiming a huff of disapproval down at the defensive hunch to your shoulders. Once again, you're wearing your emotions on your sleeve, for all to see. It's a wonder, he thinks, that you've survived past adolescence, what with your affinity for broadcasting your every feeling out into the world around you.

[------ you leave------]

There's the telltale scrape of metal on stone, and a second later, Strife is standing in the spot you'd once occupied, trailing several steps after you as you retreat down the cragged slope in the direction of Dis's quiet and comfortable emporium.

“Hey, kid! Hang on a sec, War didn't – He was just -... Wait up!” He stretches an arm out after you, but it soon becomes all-too clear that you're in no mood to listen to whatever it is he has to say. Without even sparing the Horsemen a backwards glance, you snatch up the hem of your dress to keep it from snagging on the rocks underfoot and try to remain dignified, even as you stumble over the uneven ground with your chin tucked shamefully close to your chest.

Dropping the outstretched arm back against his side, Strife watches you march around the side of a stone pillar and disappear from his line of sight.

“Argh, way to go, meathead!” he snaps, shooting his younger brother an accusing glare, “You hurt her feelings.”

#darksiders #darksiders genesis #War x reader #Strife x reader #relationships #Horsemen

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what-if-queen-camilla · 11 months

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A little secret - chapter 8

25th January 1987

The days at Highgrove had been absolute heaven. Camilla hadn’t realised just how badly she’d been in the need for a break before but the three days of rest had changed everything. It had been wonderful to spend time with Charles, the world’s most devoted father-to-be, having him look after her and the baby and dreaming together of what might be one day… He had kept his word and not only instruct the chef to align the menu to the special needs and requirements of a pregnant woman but in fact directed everybody to look after her and even sent some members of staff over to her house to look after the horses and dogs so that she could stay and relax for as long as she wanted to. With Andrew being in London and Tom and Laura having returned to their respective boarding schools, nobody was missing her anyway and though she didn’t like to admit it, it felt good to be looked after instead of being the one looking after others for once. By the end of the next week, her sickness had almost faded, as had her dizziness and she felt recharged enough to undertake a few short walks around the estate and the clear, frosty winter air seemed to revive her. Charles came back for another joint weekend and was delighted to see the love of his life in such good spirits when he returned compared to how poorly she had been when he had left earlier that week. Together, they went for a proper walk, enjoyed a heavenly, roses scented, candle light bubble bath to warm themselves up and later, in the romantic glow of the fireplace, they even made love again. It felt a bit different and Charles was wonderful, tender, sweet and extremely careful though she had assured him at least a hundred times that it wouldn’t hurt the baby or do it any bad. And though Camilla didn't want to ruin the situation, as she laid in his arms, she felt that they really couldn't avoid a certain topic anymore… "Darling, we still haven't decided anything. You know, the last few days were wonderful. Like a much needed holiday really and I'm feeling much better but our problem hasn't solved itself, has it? We have to talk about it… we need to make a plan." Charles had been gently stroking her naked body while she was talking and though he also wished they could just stay in this carefree dream forever, he knew in his heart that it wasn't possible and that it strained her immensely. In fact, he had been thinking about some things over the last couple of days as well but he didn't mention anything to her as he wanted to be entirely sure first. But now that she had started the topic… "You're right, darling. Listen, I've been thinking about something…"

"You can't be serious!", Camilla stuttered after having listened to Charles' insane suggestion that they'd both get divorced from their spouses, marry in the Church of Scotland, move to the country together and just be a normal, happy family with their little one. Of course, it sounded like a dream - a dream with many catches though: "You can't do this to the country, Charles. It's your destiny to be King one day and I know you'll be a bloody good one. I will not allow you to give up the throne, for nothing in this world!" That'd have been the price and she was not going to pay this. She'd rather be dead than the reason why he'd have to abdicate. "Have you even thought about what that would mean for our child? Growing up knowing he or she was the reason why their daddy can't be King? You can't put such a burden on an innocent child!", she said. She couldn't believe that he'd actually made this absolutely idiotic suggestion. "And what about your sons? Your abdication would make William heir apparent immediately. He is only five years old!" "I was three when I became heir apparent!", he countered but she immediately contradicted: "That was different! Charles, you can't do that to him! Imagine something happens to your mother next week, next month, next year… Yes, she is fit and blessed with good health but you never know what might happen in the future! Also, what about me? I'm not going to end up like a ‘Mrs Simpson 2.0’! I have two other children, just like you, and I'm worried about them! I don't want Tom and Laura to be a part of that, to grow up in such a mess, I want them to have a happy childhood and a loving family, just what I want for our baby! No, Charles, we're certainly not gonna do that!" "So what's your brilliant alternative then?", he asked sarcastically and looked at her in anticipation. "You sound like you've got just the plan!" Camilla sighed. She didn't want this, she didn't want to argue and fight, she didn't have the energy for this sort of drama at the moment. She loved her Prince dearly but sometimes he could be so bloody stubborn… Carefully she took his hand and led it to her belly. "Darling, listen. This is not about us or what we want. This is about an innocent little baby, our baby, that we love so dearly, and that needs to be protected. This is our responsibility and must be our highest priority. Always.”, while speaking, her eyes had filled with tears and she cuddled up to him a bit closer as she added: “The decisions we’ll have to make will be painful and heartbreaking, yes, but we have to stay strong. It’ll be for the greater good: for our baby’s safety.”

London, two days later

“Your Royal Highness!”, Andrew gasped in surprise and jumped up from his desk as none other than The Prince of Wales entered his office at the Wellington Barracks. Damn, what did he want from him? He hadn’t forgotten an appointment, had he? “No, Lieutenant Colonel, no haven’t”, Charles declined, sitting down at the front side of Andrew’s desk without waiting to be offered a seat. “I’m actually here to discuss… a private matter today.”, he added and Andrew sighed. Of course Milla had told him. Silly girl. He had almost been a bit worried as he hadn’t heard from her in over a week but luckily she had phoned him the other day, just to let him know that everything was fine and that she hadn’t made her final decision regarding her little “problem” yet but that she’d let him know as soon as possible. He hadn’t expected her to be that much of a coward that she’d actually send her lover over though. “Milla doesn’t know that I’m here.”, the Prince started and looked at him somewhat conspiratorially. Andrew sighed and went over to the sideboard, quickly grabbing the bottle of Scotch and two glasses. “Drink?”, he asked and handed one to the Prince without waiting for him to respond - just as His Royal Highness had taken a seat without waiting for him to invite him. Of course, he was the Prince of Wales and he, Andrew, was just a Lieutenant Colonel of the Household Cavalry, so in fact, he was more or less his boss and being the loyal serviceman he was, he wasn’t going to turn this into some sort of an authority competition - but what he was doing with his wife was a different story. It had a direct effect on his children and he was not going to kowtow and let him ruin his family. “Andrew, listen, I… I actually have some great news for you today!” “Oh?” “Yes. The thing is… How long have you been serving us now?” Andrew frowned his forehead and took a huge sip of his Scotch. What on earth was he up to? “Since 1960, when I first joined the Royal Horse Guards, Sir.”, he said, looking at the Prince with a sharp glance. “Exactly.”, Charles confirmed and nodded appreciatively. “And weren’t you first appointed as a lieutenant exactly 25 years ago last week?” Andrew gulped. Yes, that was true. He had, indeed, received his first ever military rank exactly 25 years and 3 days ago today. Whatever the Prince was up to - he had definitely done his homework. “Since then, you have been one of our most loyal and devoted servicemen - both here in the United Kingdom, as well as in our overseas territories, especially during the horrible bombings in Hyde Park and Regents’s Park back in the day - and I know that you will continue your most appreciated service for Crown and Country in the years to come. Therefore, it would be my greatest pleasure to appoint you to be a Colonel of the Household Cavalry and a Silver Stick in Waiting for my dear Mama, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II. My sister tells me this is something you've been dreaming of for a long time. I understand the two of you have a close… friendship, which is wonderful of course...” Andrew emptied his glass in one go. So that was the way the wind blew. That lousy little wannabe King… He had never really expected anything good from his wife’s lover anyway, knowing very well about his moods and temper but he wouldn’t have expected him to be that manipulative. Especially that remark about Anne… How low could anyone possibly sink? Anyway; he was and had always been a careerist - and the future monarch was right: He absolutely wanted to be a Silver Stick in Waiting - and if that meant to… take care of his… bastard, then he was happy to do that. “Well, Sir, I’m feeling incredibly honoured…”

#king charles #queen camilla #andrew parker bowles #fanfic #fanfiction #royal family #royal baby

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red-bat-arse · 11 months

Text

And to Fight Wars (AO3 Link)

Chapter 2

(Chapter 3)

(Chapter 1)

Steve moved away from Hawkins pre-canon and was made into the business heir his father wanted. However, when he's brought back to Hawkins in mid 1986 it's clear that his father was involved in something shady; because that's when he meets Eleven, trapped in a rundown lab.

*I don't do tag lists*

Yup, I'm continuing this! EDIT: lol i missed putting in the whole first section!!! its up properly now

Steve sat at the dining room table, straight backed and waiting for Eddie Munson to return to the room with whoever it was he needed to fetch for this talk. He wasn't being guarded, per say, but the other man had flashed those eyes again and snarled at him not to move once he shoved him in this chair, and he could see and hear other people just beyond the doors and walls. So Steve waited, taking the time to think about how he was going to merge this new development with his slow growing ideas for bulldozing his way into the Hawkins Lab, and then he waited some more while the sky grew properly dark outside the window.

Eventually, Eddie returned with two other young adults alongside him -the woman was short and prim, with a pistol holstered on her hip, while the man looked forlorn and was clutching a messenger bag to his side. Both eyed Steve critically upon entering the room, but made no comment -when they sat down, Eddie may have been front and centre, but Steve caught the way the two men had actually deferred to the lady in where to sit.

"Steve Harrington, meet Nancy and Jonathan," Eddie introduced, a false smile on his face. "All of us here, the Hawkins Lab took someone from us, hurt us, whatever. So, I hope you'll explain it crystal clear," Eddie folded his hands on the table, which was so wide that even if Steve reached out, he wouldn't make contact with the other man's fingers. "Harrington Sr dies, you inherit the family business. Do some tidying up and find a little project under business ventures in the family chequebook, think to yourself -torture and experimenting on kids, sounds fun. Then, what, you get cold feet when you actually see it?"

"No, actually. Haven't you heard assumptions just make you an ass?" Steve bit out, tired and angry and now equally annoyed at the many, many comparisons to his father he'd sat through today. "My father died, yes. And that made everything he owned my problem, but if you think I knew what I was walking into today, you're wrong. He kept very little in the way of records, less so for his backroom dealings. It's been a nightmare to sort through even without having to travel back here to get answers for what the hell he'd tied himself to."

Steve's main priority here was to figure out a way to get what he wanted, which was the children out of that place, so even though these three didn't seem particularly moved so far, he kept on. "So no, I had no clue what was in there. I didn't believe anything Brenner told me about so-called abilities or weapons development, but then he had me meet one of the kids. Well, a teenager actually, and she spoke into my head."

"Eleven," Jonathan concluded quietly.

"Yes," Steve said. "The files said there were five being held there. Apparently I'm due to meet the rest when i go back, Nineteen to Twenty Two." He looked at Eddie directly when he said that last part, and saw his fists clenched tight on the tabletop. "He didn't mention you."

Eddie scoffed, "No, he wouldn't. not when I'm making sure to make his life difficult," he looked at Steve with a complicated expression on his face. "I don't buy it, but let's say you're not looking to turn kids into weapons for the state. What did Eleven say to you? She's been trapped in there since after the earthquake and we can't get in, can't even get close enough for her to hear us through her powers. But she'd talk to you after meeting you for five minutes?"

So these people really were trying to do the same thing steve wanted -it was nice to get the confirmation. If Eleven had been there since March, that meant she would've been taken in around the same time the injured girl, Twenty Two, had been; Eddie implied they had been trying to get her out for nearly as long. "I can only imagine she spoke to me because seeing her there made me sick to my stomach," Steve snapped, "Like any fucking normal person. They had her in a collar, and she flinched whenever Brenner touched her -but what she told me was that she didn't want to leave without the others. That kid was sick and miserable, and yet she still-"

Steve cut himself off, reigning in his anger -these people were on the same side as he was, even if they didn't believe it yet, and shouting at them wouldn't bring them any closer to getting those kids out of there. It was strange to be having this strong of a reaction when he'd only ever lost it when his little cousins got hurt, but it felt right; he always knew he had a protective streak, it made sense for it to attach itself to Eleven and four as-yet-unseen experiments when he saw them in such a place.

"Can you tell us anything about the other prisoners?" Nancy asked, calm voice ringing in the silence of the dining room. Steve nodded and straightened up again, passing a hand over his face (too hot, it felt like he was on fire) to give himself an extra second.

"There were five I was told about. Now that i know about you, Eddie, there's a chance there could be more being hidden. You didn't see them while you were there?"

Eddie shook his head, "Was half dead for most of my stay."

So was Twenty Two, so that tracked. "Eleven, obviously. They gave me a file about the previous group who were somehow killed in 79 with her as the only survivor. Nineteen was a boy, who gets prophetic dreams but can't move much in the aftermath, looked to be the same age as Twenty Two, a girl in a wheelchair who can tell if someone is lying to her."

Steve stopped when Jonathan made a sudden choked noise, a few tears falling down his face -he shook his head when Eddie touched his shoulder, just clasped his hands as if in prayer and hunched over a little. Steve averted his eyes at the emotion, and met Nancy's gaze again.

"Twenty and Twenty One were older, my age maybe. Said their minds were linked together and they were unstable, but Brenner implied there was more to it," Steve shook his head. "I'm sorry I don't know more about them. I saw the facility conditions, some of the passcodes, and I have access to all the building plans and service schedules since -well, since I own them now. I was going to take tonight to make a game plan, especially since I'm pretty sure the man leading the security team has ties to my mother's family. If I'm right, I might be able to convince him to help me instead of Brenner."

"Why not just pull your resources?" he was asked.

"In my experience, money makes people cruel. Forget coming after me for crippling their operation -my companies provide the food, cleaning, uniforms, even the front that keeps up the entire secret. The best case scenario if I did that is the kids go hungry in the lurch, but why wouldn't Brenner just scrap the under-performing bits and start over elsewhere?" Steve crossed his arms. "I have options. I need to think those through before I do anything drastic, since I know I'm not suited to this corporate business stuff -my father would've much rather one of his junior partners inherit instead of his meathead son."

Steve stood up when no one said anything for a long minute, rolling his eyes at the way Eddie tensed. "Calm down. If I didn't want to be here, I would've used this when you left me unsupervised," he lifted the flap of his jacket to show them the holstered pistol under his arm, satisfied when all three paled dramatically. That they hadn't thought to check him was a pretty clear sign they were either amateurs -still could be, depending on what exactly they'd been doing the last six months to get to Eleven and the others -or completely overconfident, which at the very least he didn't think they were. "I'm putting my groceries away and making something to eat, otherwise I'll get a migraine and won't be back on my feet until tomorrow afternoon. If you can trust I'll help you, have someone fill me in while I cook."

He walked out of the room right after saying that, and to his credit Eddie was barely a step behind him by the time he passed the doorframe. There were indeed a number of other people milling around in the hall trying to eavesdrop, and it wasn't until he nearly walked right into one of them that Steve noticed something.

"What -they're all Eleven's age," a statement which definitely made at least two of the teenagers bristle. "What the hell kind of operation are you running, Munson?"

"Why don't you shut up with the questions, Harrington-"

"Mike," Eddie said, frowning at the boy with long dark hair. "Whether you like it or not, Harrington's the one we're throwing in with, here, and you all were supposed to stay upstairs. Now get gone up there and wait for Nancy and Jon to fill you in, or I'll get Joyce involved."

"Eddie-"

"But this guy is-"

"Strike two," Eddie held up two fingers, and the kids scrambled up the stairs, shooting Steve glares and a couple choice fingers on their way. Eddie sighed and jerked his head at the kitchen, and Steve followed him inside, happy to see someone had saved his perishables.

"To answer you, Harrington, yeah they're a bunch of kids, but I dont got anything to do with that," Eddie pulled himself up on the counter and settled in, apparently, to watch Steve cook. Steve started on a recipe with minimal amounts of knife use, given the other man had been rather jumpy most of the last hour. "I'm a late entry to this shit. they've been fighting monsters since 83, when Eleven first broke out of the lab."

Steve place a pot of water on the stove while he turned over what he wanted to ask. "Okay. I can get the history later. But I need to know, and I'm assuming you escaped around the march earthquake -how could you not have gotten back in? What have you all been doing the last six months?"

"Mostly trying not to get caught," Eddie said. He'd flipped over onto his back to stare at the ceiling, a faraway look on his face. "Me and Max -that's Twenty Two, by the way -were both in a coma for most of April and May, and Eleven was with everyone here, shutting up the gates," he glanced over and must have noticed the confusion Steve was feeling, because he chuckled. "Damn, I've gotten used to it. Part of the lab's experiments was opening a portal to another dimension -which they did, but unfortunately monsters lived there. Hungry ones. So while me and Max were in a government lab getting stitched back together, Eleven was out here closing portals to stop monsters from getting through," he spread his hands out wide, like he was a showman. "You never realize that all the books follow the chosen one because every other schmuck that tries to save the kingdom just gets beaten into the dirt. Thing is, they didn't know we were getting stitched up, they'd thought we died in the other world. They also thought the lab got shut down in 84, but actually, there was just another site. Should've guessed after the one that burned down last year."

"So Eleven closed all the portals," Steve said quietly, trying to follow the plot. "But the lab, the one you and Max were in, had been biding its time?"

"Right on the money, Harrington," Eddie looked at him again, eyes red, and Steve wanted to know what he was seeing. Had an inkling that the eyes, the scars and the coma were all connected to the so-called earthquake. "Snapped her up under everyone's noses. I can only guess they stayed in Hawkins cause of your old man's money, or maybe a disaster zone just makes it easier to bring in security and equipment and hide people disappearing. Whatever. I woke up first, freaked out, got put in solitary for awhile where they studied me. Max woke a couple weeks later. I think maybe Eleven convinced Brenner she'd cooperate if she could see us both, because next I knew there they were."

"Who knows how, but Max opened a portal. Looked pretty different, since the Upside Down was cut off, but it was there. I got out. Should've probably been Eleven, supergirl would've been able to get back in later, but she pushed me through," Steve thought about her, pale and lonely in that dreary room, yet her voice had been strong in his head. "Landed back in Hawkins, right in Max's trailer. Somehow made it to Nancy's place, then we all started planning. It was mid June by then. Town was still crawling with military types, and not the kind who'd helped us in the past. I had to hide out, since technically I'm still wanted for murder -which I didn't do!" Eddie was quick to get his energy back to emphatically insist on that, pointing a finger right at Steve. "Being a scapegoat isn't fun. But I hid out here since we had a source figure out where the money was coming from, and if Harrington Sr walked through that door I wouldn't mind getting arrested for something real. We've tried to sneak in, get a job in the company on the first floor, use Hopper's contacts to get an investigation started, but nothing's worked. Part of it's that we can't put the kids in danger, and if any of us get caught, they'd figure us all out, and where would that leave us? Well, I guess it leaves us here-"

"-relying on you."

Steve finished chopping mushrooms and slid them into the hot pan, keeping an eye on the water for when it would start to boil and he could drop the pasta in to cook. Unconsciously, he'd adjusted his portion sizing, first to account for the older three, but then he'd thought about the kids upstairs and just kept adding mushrooms and garlic to his cutting board while he absorbed what Eddie was telling him.

It was odd to think that yesterday he'd been safe in his home in New York, only concerned with finalizing the details of a few liquidations of his father's assets and then getting on the plane the next morning. And all this time his father's money had been used to torture children, terrorize an entire town, and then leave it all on Steve's shoulders in the wake of his death. Oh, how he hated him. Enough to drop all his reservations about taking on his inheritance, if he could use all that money and resource to destroy any semblance of a legacy his father had. If he could use it to help the ones his father had hurt.

"Eddie Munson," Steve placed the knife down and turned to face the other man, who stared at him with suspicion. "By this time next week, you, and everyone held in that lab, will be free again. I promise you that, and if I break that promise..." he stepped closer. What would Marc offer in a similar situation? Eddie's hand twitched towards his knife a little, and Steve grimly knew -he put his hand on top of Eddie's on the hilt and gripped it tightly. "...you can take any piece of me you want. My hand, my heart, my tongue, it's yours. If I fail, I'll gladly give it to you."

"Jesus," Eddie breathed out, his eyes sharp, his face screwed up in a way Steve couldn't read, a combination of emotions he'd not seen directed his way before. These people definitely thought he was completely unhinged by now. But that was okay. Steve was going to show them exactly the sort of man he was -one that wasn't anything like his father.

Brenner called the next morning while Steve was making coffee. Apparently one of Eddie's abilities was being able to see in the dark, so he often was the one who snuck out at night to tamper with various car batteries, fuel lines, mail going to the office, etc; because if they couldn't get inside they were going to make it difficult for them to operate. Steve stirred in creamer as he listened to the older man detail that he would be able to visit the other 'patients' the following day, as they were still fixing a structural issue -which Steve now knew had been Eddie and another woman named Robin slashing the tires of a bunch of the security guards' vehicles -but cut him off once he began suggesting they finalize some of the funding.

"I'll see the others if you insist, but the display yesterday was enough to convince me," he wasn't the smartest, yes, but he could play the part others expected. "The funding won't be a question, however the quality of your staff leaves something to be desired. The driver seemed preoccupied with this idea I was going to get mugged at gunpoint in my own home, apparently at your insistence."

"Mr Harrington, it was only a precaution, given you are the primary donor to my endeavour-"

"I own your little project, Brenner, and I am not my father. He didn't know what he was getting into, but I do, and I intend to do this properly instead of slapdash as it's been handled up to now," over the line Brenner was silent, but his breathing, what little Steve could hear of it, was calm. "If you think small town delinquents are a big enough threat to voice it, I'm sceptical of the quality of your outsourced security. Looking at the records, the company my father installed on the first floor is also under-performing, so along with the cleaning, food delivery and laundry heads of service I'll be taking a meeting with their CFO. Give me the number for your head of security, Brian Walker, was it? I'll speak with him alongside the rest."

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Nancy step through the door to the kitchen -she gave him a slow nod but didn't interrupt, only made her way over to the cupboard where the mugs were. It was strange to think that these people were more familiar with his former home than he was now.

"You've certainly thought things over since yesterday, Mr Harrington," there was a thread of resentment in his tone, but Brenner needed his funds more than he needed his ego padded. He wouldn't be around long enough for that resentment to fester if Steve had his way. "Yes, your father was never so hands on, but maybe that's why we're struggling, even with the gains that have been made since March. Shall I send a car after I've given you Walker's number?"

"No need, we keep a vehicle here," Steve copied down the number onto the pad next to the phone, and agreed to be at the lab the next afternoon. When he hung up, Nancy was studying him.

"You never actually promised him anything," she observed, and Steve had to laugh a bit.

"A habit I picked up from an early tutor. 'Never make any statement you can be held to', especially if you could be recorded. He was worried I'd say the wrong thing to someone and get disinherited," a lot of his tutors had been worried about that, given how often he failed to meet their standards. Then again, it was no coincidence they were more often arranged by his father and not privy to the ins and outs of the Harrington family dynamic. "As if my mother didn't ensure her marriage agreement was air tight on that question."

Nancy sipped her coffee, "You're a realist, that's good. I love them but the others don't always get where I'm coming from, hashing things out or vetoing reckless plans." He was thinking more and more that he'd been right to pin her as a leader of this operation last night. "But that's what i'm having trouble reconciling here. You're practical, yet you're sticking your neck out for some kids you don't even know. You habitually don't make promises, yet you vowed to Ed last night that he could literally cut off any part of you he wanted. You even claim you're not suited to business, but you know more about the lab and Brenner's tendencies than I do, and I've had years to flush him out. The kids say the contradictions are suspicious."

"If I looked the other way from those kids I'd drink myself to death in a couple years, so if I'm being practical then I have to help them," he may not have expected such a strong reaction from himself had he laid it out on paper, but he couldn't deny the reality of it. His tutors had also worried about his tendency of jumping into the deep end of obsessions when he let his emotions run the show. "And isn't contradiction the source of all change, or something? No one lives a predictable life. I'm sure you might also think I'm a nonviolent person, but I'm prepared to shoot Brenner in the head when I see him. Isn't that being realistic?"

Definitely letting his emotions get the better of him there, but as he said -he was doing it for Eleven and the other four, or more than that, trapped in the lab. He didn't necessarily care if Nancy or the others trusted him, as long as he managed to make that goal a reality.

He was calling the various heads of service about scheduling when Jonathan came into the kitchen and started whispering with Nancy about something, and just finished a curt exchange with Walker when Eddie strolled back into the room. Steve found his eyes were drawn to the other man instantly, following his movements as he ducked around the island and touched a hand to the others' shoulders in passing greeting. Steve jumped when a hand appeared suddenly at his elbow while he was distracted and tapped on his arm.

One of the boys from the day before was there, frowning at him a little imperiously -the curls poking out from under his colourful cap made him look a bit younger, but now seeing him this close the boy was probably closer to sixteen than the tweenage he'd thought before.

"You're not even going back today, right?" the kid asked, plowing on before Steve could actually agree with him. "Then you've got to come and tell us about the other people the lab are holding! C'mon, come with me."

Steve allowed himself to be tugged to a stand, a bit baffled, and when he glanced back at the others -sure, Eddie looked a bit unhappy at what was going on, but Nancy mainly seemed amused, even flapping a hand at him as of to say, 'Well, get going!'. Steve managed to grab his coffee before the kid pulled hard enough to unbalance him, and was instantly reminded of his younger cousins again when in the living room there were about four other teenagers waiting for him, all staring in some level of distrust save for the oldest boy, who looked bored.

"I'm Dustin, that's Mike and Lucas, and Erica and Gary," the kid introduced, pushing Steve toward the loveseat at the far end of the room, where they could all see him clearly and keep him furthest from the route back to the kitchen. The oldest muttered 'Gareth' under his breath, and Steve wondered if this was calculated to keep him busy while there was some discussion among the others in the kitchen. "I've got theories, you've got info -talk."

It was... kind of cute how the kid was trying to be firm and demanding with him here, which obviously wasn't a common occurrence judging by the way his friends shot him little glances or shook their heads. The boy who'd snapped at him last night, Mike, rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful, and then directed his scorn Steve's way as if he could tell he was mainly humouring them.

"He already told Nancy that he only ever saw El-Eleven," Mike crossed his arms tightly.

"Yeah, but he also knew there were five total, genius," Erica said, sarcasm thick in her tone. "If anyone knows about business here it's me, and he probably got a briefing of what to expect to like, get him hooked for whatever full demonstration the lab's putting on. Right?" she asked Steve, perfectly confident in herself; he couldn't help but think grandmother would have a field day with her.

"You're right," she shot a smug look across the room, and the last one to speak, Lucas, sighed, put upon. "I looked over their files -heavily redacted, but they included photos and dates on when they were brought in. And, Dustin," the boy sat up. "There's a chance there's more than five, so keep your theories in your back pocket. I only know the basics."

Dustin nodded seriously, and readied a notepad and pen, so Steve started recounting what he could from the files, paying attention to how the various teenagers reacted, especially the older one who'd yet to say anything. They were already familiar with Eleven, but Dustin still had him describe the collar she'd been wearing -he couldn't give much more detail than the rough number of wires, the material it was probably made of, and the size given he was no engineer, but the kid noted it all down regardless.

There was an immediate change when he started describing Nineteen -Mike tensed when he said the boy had been there three years, and when Steve went on to describe the prophetic dreams that were considered the main aspect of his ability, even Dustin seemed spooked. It was markedly similar to how Jonathan had acted the night before.

"All of you know him? Like you know Max?"

Lucas flinched, and Mike drew in a wet breath before scrubbing at his eyes, "It has to be Will."

"Like they've had him the whole time?" Gareth.

"Eleven would've sensed him or -or something! He can't have been in there the whole three years!" Dustin.

"Well they found Castle Byers but not his body or anything! And demogorgons don't eat people whole, so what other option is there?!"

This was rapidly getting out of hand; Steve raised his voice a little, making all the kids jump and something drop in the other room, "Hey! Look, if it is Will, or if it isn't, that doesn't matter. This kid's going to be in a pretty bad state, so while he's recovering you'll have to be there for him regardless. Just like you were there for Eleven, right?" he asked Mike directly, and he didn't look happy about anything but he nodded, still wiping at his eyes a little. "I think one of the reasons this place was able to go under the radar is because this boy, Nineteen, he was kept sedated until sometime last year, because of how much his ability was affecting him. That's probably why Eleven never noticed him."

"Steve's right," Dustin piped up, waving his notes around in front of him. "Look, we don't have a ton of time, so let's get talking about the others. What did number Twenty look like?"

A few hours later, Steve was carefully picking his way around the scattered teenagers in his childhood living room, all of them wiped out from the lengths the discussion had gone once they figured out who Twenty was. Dustin was right that Steve wasn't needed until tomorrow, so he could at least make something for lunch while he had the time, and maybe process a lot of the little tidbits the kids had dropped casually throughout the conversation.

Four times this cobbled together group had faced the results of the lab's experiments from the world they called the Upside Down, and each time someone had died, gotten hurt or plain went missing. They knew where a few of those missing were now, at least. But the fact still remained that they'd seen a lot more in their young lives than many would in twice as long, and in a lot of ways they couldn't heal until the lab was dismantled entirely.

"Nice of you to humour them," Eddie said, suddenly just materializing in the corner of Steve's vision like he'd been here in the kitchen since breakfast.

"I like kids their age. My cousins are all between ten and eighteen, so," Steve watched as Eddie hopped up on the counter a few feet down from where he was chopping vegetables for a big salad, again with enough portions for everyone here. He wasn't sure why, but something about the other man seemed settled, less on edge. Maybe it was simply that Eddie did appreciate him talking to the kids enough that it warmed his frosty opinion a bit. "Did you catch any of it?"

"Gareth gave me a rundown."

"I thought he looked a bit out of place," Steve tossed everything in a big bowl he definitely didn't remember ever using as a child, and stepped around Eddie's legs to put it in the fridge and take out the fixings to make sandwiches.

"You mentioned that the kids in the lab would be taken care of no matter who they are," Eddie didnt really ask, but Steve hummed an affirmative anyway. "Can't imagine how that's going to go. Hospital's just going to get the feds involved when a bunch of dead and missing kids show up with weird injuries and powers, and they've never given a rat's ass about any of us. Not to mention, Max's parents are flat out gone. Her piece of shit stepdad bailed after his son died and her mom drank herself to death in August."

"I'm going to be covering it," Steve said simply, but that only got Eddie frowning at him, eyes red again -he wondered if it was some kind of nervous tic.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I'll be making sure the hospital looks the other way. You'd be surprised how effective a good bribe to the right person is," and a good threat, but Eddie seemed to ping-pong around different levels of hostile with him so he decided not to voice that and see what it got him. "You've said your chief of police is involved -he can buy a little time for me to do that by claiming it's already under investigation. I doubt any of you have good insurance, so I'll be handling all the medical bills, full stop. Same with long term care for anyone who needs it."

It was eerie, the way Eddie didn't blink while his eyes were red and slitted, even as he jumped down from the counter and crowded into Steve's space. Like with the knife, Steve relaxed into it as much as possible -he and Eddie were of a height, so having him close enough to pen him in place also put his face within inches of Steve's. Despite himself, or maybe directly because of the implied threat, which was embarrassing as all get-out, Steve couldn't help but flush a bit red as his mind filled in what else they could do from this position.

"You made that promise to me yesterday, but enlighten me -does that include being free from you?" Fingers pressed at the hollow of his throat and tapped there, and Steve shivered. "Taking all this in stride, good with kids, rich as hell, and no ulterior motives? Not sure if I can believe that, Steve. Seems a little too good to be true that all our problems are just, poof, going away the second you show up."

Part of Steve wanted to point out that none of their problems were actually gone, and while Steve had a plan, he hadn't even mentioned it to Nancy, Eddie or Jonathan yet, let alone the police chief the kids had mentioned or any of the others in 'the Party' who hadn't stopped by the house. Part of him wanted to remind Eddie that he was going to put himself in a pretty shit position tomorrow, one where there was a good chance Walker decided he was blowing steam and shot him without a second thought. There was even a small, still growing part of Steve that, buoyed by interacting with the kids, wanted to soothe and reassure everyone here that when this was over, they could rest.

The part that got him through being Richard Harrington's lacking son was the one that won out.

"I didn't realize you were so flush with options you could afford to be picky," he pulled out the old Harrington haughtiness and even with Eddie so close, managed to look down his nose at him -Eddie startled back like he'd been slapped. "You don't seem to get it, so I'll explain. The moment I saw Eleven's file, I decided she was mine. Not the way Brenner thinks of her as his, god forbid, but my responsibility. Yes, there is the fact my fathers money helped keep her there, but by the time she spoke to me, I knew for sure it was more than that. Once I spoke to you, Nancy and Jonathan, I'd made up my mind entirely. All of you in the Party are mine."

"Possessive bastard aren't you," Eddie, far from the unnerved look he'd given Steve's intensity last night, appeared more intrigued than anything now that his momentary shock had passed.

"Very," it ran through both sides of his family, but where his father had concerned himself with things and status, his mother surrounded herself with friends and allies, and saw that same tendency reflected in Steve. "So no, it doesn't include being free from me. You could try, certainly. Change your name and move away with what little money you've managed to save, relying on the government that never gave a shit about anyone in this town to help you start over. It wouldn't work, but you could try," Steve was confident enough in that. Even without his father's money, he'd racked up a few favours while in Marseille, and he was pretty sure his cousin Emilie was going into investigative work. "Or you could accept that you've been through enough, and let me handle everything."

"So long as whatever hare-brained scheme you've planned actually works," Eddie said.

"Yeah, there is that," Steve tilted his head to the side and Eddie's hand settled more securely on the side of his neck, thumb resting right on his adam's apple. If this was some sort of test, he certainly didn't mind leaning into it to see if Eddie would balk. "You should know what kind of deal you've all walked into with me. My family's business has made me pretty selfish, and when I see people worth my attention, I tend to keep them."

Eddie stared at him in thought for a few long seconds, "Against their will? Through debt or favours we'll owe you for your help? Typical protection racket type?"

"Not going to say it's never crossed my mind. It made my grandfather good money in the 30s," Eddie's mouth quirked up slightly, amused at the way he'd phrased it, maybe. "But no. If I was in debt to someone and their death meant I got a clean start, why would I protect them? Or even if I did work off the debt, how could I trust the person who put me in that position wouldn't try to keep me there? That's exactly how men like my father built their empires, and that's not who I am. I may be a criminal, but if you can trust anything about me, you can trust that."

"Hm, well, the Munson doctrine's never really cared much about what side of the law you're on, so long as you're not a prick," Eddie said, brightening up considerably. He pulled away a few inches but kept his hand pressed to Steve's skin. "Want to know what nearly dying in the Upside Down actually did to me?"

Steve took the non-sequitur in stride, "Besides seeing in the dark?"

"Besides that," Eddie looked particularly amused, like he was about to drop some hilarious punchline. "Eleven's got a rap sheet of powers, but the rest of us didn't pick up nearly as many. Well, the terrible two maybe have a few more, but me? Just a couple little benefits from getting chewed up and spat out in there. One, the eyes, obviously. But two," and here Eddie was bold; Steve flushed with heat again as his hand slid back and yanked lightly at the hair on the nape of his neck. "There we go. It's real easy to tell when you're hot and bothered, Stevie, if I've got my hands on you. Or if you're angry, calm, stressed, oh, that one's nice -embarrassment," Eddie laughed at the noise he sputtered out, but dropped his hands after a second.

"This really was some sort of test," Steve willed his deep blush to go back down, but if the heated expression on Eddie's face was any indication, it wasn't working. Steve burned it into his mind to go over later, to keep him solid tomorrow when he'd have very few reminders of good things to look forward to after the lab.

"Only for my own peace of mind. But it seems to me you're actually a good dude," he turned away just as fast as he'd originally stalked over, and pulled the toaster over from the other end of the counter. "Now let me help you with lunch, and we can plan for tomorrow, since i'm positive you've already made some big decisions in that pretty head of yours."

Steve let out a slow breath, calming his pulsing heart; he'd already been intrigued when Eddie was nothing but hostile. Now, with the other man looking at him like that, he could feel himself getting pulled in like a moth to a flame. And the worst part was, he couldn't bring himself to care.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #alternate universe #the party #organized crime #fanfic #st fanfic #hawkins lab #st s4

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lokisprettygirl · 1 year

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You are the best Loki x reader writer I know so therefore I entrust this prompt to you

Marvel/Bridgerton/Queen Charlotte AU

The reader is one of queen charlotte's daughters, she is black (IK some writers have an issue with black-coded readers so you don't have to write it if you don't want to). It's the time period when the only heir to the throne has died, queen charlotte has told her children to find suitable partners to marry and make babies with. reader approaches her mother and confesses that she has been secretly courting a man already, the only problem is that he is a bastard. Loki Laufeyson (Laufey is his mother) is a Norwegian Duke, he is the result of Odin's infidelity with Duchess Laufey (Odin failed to tell Laufey he was a married man when they had a fling). Odin has made it very clear that he does not see Loki as his son and Loki has gone by his mother's name as such (You can make Laufey be married or not that is up to you, but she loves her son that is apparent in how Loki owns his own property and his mother dots on him every chance she gets)(the other dynamics with Frigga and Thor are the same as they have always been). He owns a very famous business in Norway and is respected in his community and noble society. he is currently staying in his estate in Britain to be close to the reader and the reader visits him frequently. They are deeply in love and wish to marry each other and have children but they fear what society will say about them. do what you want with this prompt. I have started watching Queen Charlotte and thought of this prompt. It would mean the world to me if you even look at this and consider prompt much less make a series of it so here you go, my measly idea. I love all your Loki x reader books btw and have most of them liked or reblogged on my account.

First of all thank you so much for your nice words for me, i can't believe I'm the best you have read, that's overwhelming because I don't think of myself as that but thank you so much dear 💚

As much as I appreciate this and the time you must have taken to write this I am not sure I can write this series because first of all I have never seen Bridgerton (I find it really stupid I'm sorry, the concept just doesn't appeal to me at all) and I'm not overly familiar or better word would be- much interested in that time period.

Another thing is If you have read my fics you'd see my readers are always inclusive but also written in a way one would right an oc, I never mention their physical appearance so it's still a reader insert, the only race I prefer writing is Indian reader and that's because I'm an Indian girl and I write from experience. I don't know anything about being black, i don't know their lifestyle or their day to day struggles so I'd never ever be comfortable with Writing them, maybe that's the reason why some writers are not writing for other races because people are not so gentle these days when it comes to race, if a writer was to write a black reader and God forbid they wrote something that's not in black culture, god knows they will be attacked and will be blamed for racism.

That being said the plot seems interesting and I'm honoured you came to me with this so I just want to apologise that I won't be able to write this down. But I'm hoping you'll find someone to write this. Again I'm sorry 🥺💚

#asks #motherfucet blog

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theadventurerslog · 1 year

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King's Quest III: To Heir is Human | Part 1

The Adventurer’s Log

King’s Quest III: To Heir is Human Part 1

Release date: 1987 (original 1986)

Introduction:

King's Quest III time along with a departure from the first two games and a bit more complexity. Again, like always, I have seen a Let's Play, so not blind.

Some backstory from the manual:

In the land of Llewdor there's a powerful wizard named Manannan who, after getting sick of using spirits to handle his all his menial day to day chores, took a boy and raised him as his slave. As the boy grew up he started getting into and practising magic until Manannan discovered this when the boy was 18. He got mad and killed him.

He took another boy as a slave and kept a tight leash on him, punishing him whenever he tried to leave the house and generally the boy caused him little trouble and despite seeming to not get into magic he killed him anyway at 18 because I guess that's the magic age to start doing it or something. Okay, Manannan.

Then he has the gall to complain about having to train a slave all over again, like he didn't bring this on himself. But, he sticks with it and every 17 years kidnaps a boy and kills them at their 18th birthday or a little earlier if they're being a problem.

And that leads us to now with the 17 year old slave boy, Gwydion.

Here we go.

Now Gwydion is Manannan's slave and has no idea where he came from, who he really is or how he came here and of course Manannan ain't about to tell him.

So we begin with Manannan (doot dooo doodoodoot) yelling at him to get back to work and it's time to look around and ultimately find a way to escape from Manannan.

I explored around the house and this game is very mean to Manannan's cat. Maybe the cat is a jerk; sure liked getting in my way on the stairs, but. Cat. Maybe I was in its way, huh?

I did some chores such as sweeping the kitchen.

You can also empty his chamber pot, dust his desk and feed the chickens outside. There are chances Manannan can catch you doing things you shouldn't be like trying to leave, and punish you through things like temporarily hanging you upside down from the ceiling in the kitchen but I managed to, somewhat unfortunately, avoid that.

I did however find a secret lever in his study and he showed up and killed me oops. If he catches you doing anything related to magic like that lever or finding certain ingredients he'll kill you.

After poking around for a bit, I'm not sure what triggers it or if it's a time thing, he'll pop up and say he's going on a journey. This came up pretty quickly for me, which is a bit unfortunate as I didn't get to go bug him in his study or anything like that. Let me bug the foul tempered evil wizard!

There's a time limit for how long he'll be gone based on the in-game timer. The timer doesn't go up when messages are displayed, so that's a way to pause for a moment if you need to think.

With him gone, we're free to explore both the house and the surrounding region. I used the aforementioned lever to open a passageway down to Manannan's lab. Here, you find his spellbook and several ingredients.

There are a few different spells you'll need to cast eventually and they're all listed in the manual along with the steps needed to cast them. This was apparently a form of copy protection.

The spells we have available are:

Understanding the Language of Creatures

Flying like an Eagle or a Fly

Teleportation at Random

Causing a Deep Sleep

Transforming another into a Cat

Brewing a Storm

Becoming Invisible

All the spells will have a use but we'll first need Transforming another into a Cat.

If you mess up any step in the spell you'll get a game over with some amusing result from having messed up. I fully intend to deliberately screw up each one, and of the two I've done, I have messed up ...entirely accidentally.

I just wanted to look at the book and tried the page for the cat spell. I didn't have any of what I needed, but I figured I could back out. Nope... You have to do something, so that was a mess and Gwydion was turned into a partial cat.

Oooops. And that's a game over.

Reloading, I was ready to go again. Now, knowing these spells exist and what their needs are, it's time collect both the ingredients and a magic wand.

The magic wand is in Manannan's study in a locked cabinet, so we need to find a key and it's kind of bullshit.

The key is in his bedroom. There's 0 indication it's in there at all let alone where it might be. Of course it has to be somewhere around, but there are already a few items in here.

In the drawers there's rose petal essence which is needed for one of the spells. There's a magic mirror in the drawer below the tall mirror. In the closet there's a magic map that will fill in as you explore and lets you teleport to any tile you've been. Yay, I don't have to map! But where's the key? It's nowhere around the bed or the mirror. You would think as you've already searched in the closet and already found something it wouldn't be in there either and you'd be right. No, it's on top of the closet that looks entirely out of Gwydion's reach and has nothing for a visual indicator.

Sigh. Thank you, let's play. Because they sure got stuck here and I sure as hell would have too.

Continuing on! I got the magic wand, grabbed a bowl and utensils from the kitchen and set out to explore.

Another piece of bullshit. Just follow the path you can't see behind the giant boulder. I didn't do too badly coming down here--only a few falls--but going back up I fell several times. Who needs a wizard to kill you when you have a winding mountain path? That point right in front of Gwydion where you essentially need to turn up but can't see is bad. It's not like Gwydion wouldn't be able to see. Bad design is bad.

I found a little dock area with a shop and a tavern.

Dog! Can't pet the mean cat, but can pet the dog and acquire a spell ingredient. There were things to buy all of which I'd need for the spells but I had no money yet.

I kept exploring and found the three bears' house.

Papa Bear wasn't thrilled with me.

And look! You can see the mountain in the background. You can actually see things that are on further off tiles. That improvement in technology.

I kept exploring, picking up a few ingredients on the way. I found a bandit lair up a tree. RNG was a killer here. There's a chance there'll be a bandit in the lair. There's only a narrow platform outside the tree house and so it's extremely easy to fall off when coming out of the place. I died here two or three times before entering to find a bandit asleep. I stole a pouch of money and carried on my merry way.

With money in hand I went back and bought several things. I also went back to the bears' house and this time they were all out but left their porridge on the table. As the standard thieving adventurer I took the porridge that was juuust right.

I had what I needed for the cat cookie and was getting a little worried about time, so I went back, and worried needlessly as it turned out. I still had plenty of time, so rather than waste that I reloaded and went back down to explore more, particularly the desert, as I figured I could at least find the cactus and reptile skin. I did so, but not without some difficulty.

There's a very high chance you'll run into a medusa who will turn you to stone. I had my speed set to fastest which made it next to impossible to react to her before being immediately petrified. You have to make sure not to face her and let her get close enough to show her the mirror. I lowered my speed back down to normal and took a couple tries but got her.

Unfortunately, I got lost in the desert and took too long to find the items, so by the time I got back to the mountain path I only got part way up before Manannan returned and murdered me.

Since I had a better idea of where things were, I reloaded that save and got my desert items much faster a second time.

I was able to make the cat cookie. And then you have to put everything back and hide your stuff before Manannan comes back. So close the secret door with the lever, put the book back, put the wand back and hide all your stuff under your bed as he never enters your room.

Y'know, for how controlling and paranoid he is you would think he would check on your room more, but if he ultimately just murders you anyway, I guess it might not matter that much.

Once he comes back he demands food. And boy do I have food for him! Mix that gross hairy cookie into the porridge and let him have at it.

Yum yum cat cookie porridge.

He makes a much cuter cat.

Now there's more room to breathe. I was going to cast the spells I could cast before leaving. It was a sound plan. I headed back down, started the spell for invisibility! And had nothing I needed so it immediately messed up.

Because I forgot to take all my stuff back.

I reloaded and got my stuff back. Tried again, made it through all the steps and...

realized I forgot to grab the wand back as well.

Then I stopped for the night because I was clearly getting too tired for this.

Now that's a healthy inventory for an adventurer.

I'm still missing mud, mistletoe and an eagle feather to finish all the spells, but I can do some of them at least, so I'll cast those I can do, hopefully without accidental dumb mistakes, before setting out to find my missing ingredients along with my next goal.

Death Counter: 24 (give or take a couple deaths I may have missed from falling or Medusa)

Time Played: 1:35

Points: 90/210

#king's quest #king's quest III #king's quest III: to heir is human #KQIII #KQIII_Log #adventure games #sierra

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kookiecrumb · 3 years

Text

jjk|| Your Head

"tags": @kazthebrekkerofinej

word count: uhhhh

summary: Jungkook is the heir to the throne of your Kingdom! In this tale of duty versus heart, will love prevail victorious?

tags: Royalty!Jungkook x Peasant!Reader, oneshot, smut, fluff, slight angst, some crack, pining, forbidden lovers, Jungkookie has a sweet tooth, strangers to friends to lovers

warnings: explicit language, impact play, birthday sex (technically), fingering, oral (m receiving*), love marking, alcohol consumption, s&m themes, horny grinding, praise kink/body worship

a/n:

hey guys!

Firstly, I want to say how proud I am of myself for growing so much during this fic. I learned a lot about what I'm comfortable with, what I'd like to work on, and where my confidences lie.

I won't lie and say it's been easy, because writing this meant dealing with a lot of my fears? I'm excited for all the works that are to come.

The only thing I can do is be as receptive to growth as possible, so I'm looking forward to learning...

*I actually learned that Vaseline wasn't invented until like the 1870s? The fic is written in the 1810s, so I actually had a choice between having them do it with vegetable oil or spit. Spit won.

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5 years ago

You bend over to pick up an apple that had rolled over under your father's produce cart, praying that it isn't bruised so that you have to pay for it out of your dinner, when a crumpled piece of paper hits you in the ass.

Confused, you crawl out from under the stand and unwrap the paper.

The paper itself is of the finest quality you've ever seen. It's a sturdy cardstock, bleached white with gold etchings on the borders. The print on the top of it reads "His Highness Jeon's Royal Study," and scribbled in some kid's amateur cursive below, "Nice butt."

You directed your gaze upwards, towards the towering castle walls. Sure enough, a boy no older than 15 had his noggin popping out from the top of the rampart, with two wide eyes staring down, curious as to your reaction. This was Prince Jungkook, heir to the throne of your kingdom.

"Shouldn't you be equestrian horse riding or playing polo or something?" You shout. He furrows his eyebrows, apparently offended at your assumption, and then disappears behind the edifice.

Moments later, another paper hits your shoulder as you're practicing your caligraphy behind your cart. It lands between the apples, so you reach your hand over and fish out out.

You glance up at the anticipant, and sure enough he's there with his doe eyes and his coconut head, ogling.

"No, dumbie. That's at MID-day." Well how were YOU supposed to know the royal schedule of the crown prince, it wasn't just common knowlegde you learned from being a humble farmer's daught--

Ah!

"Will you STOP?!" You put your foot down. "Unless you're here to buy my apples, then you're not getting ANY, little Prince." Oh, shit. You gave him ideas. Now it was really over for you.

In less than half an hour, half a company of men arrived at the marketplace, asking about your little old apple stand, and sure enough, Jungkook had bought out the entire cart so that you were forced to help with the transaction.

The young prince had eyes frankly too big for his head, with the most prominent cupid's bow you've ever seen. His nose slightly outgrew his face and his ears were hidden away behind his short, black hair. "Now you can talk to me." He gave you a rose he'd stolen from the royal garden. "I am Jungkook, heir to the throne of--"

"I know who you are." You interrupt him, documenting His Highness' total in your calligraphy book.

With a hand perched on his chest from surprise, he scoffed. "And I happen to think you're really pretty, so I was going to ask you to be my very first consor--"

"You're 15, you have playmates not consorts."

"And how old are you?!" He's had it, raising his voice and taking a bite out of one of your apples with force.

"16, old enough to have suitors." You tease. Jungkook hangs his head a little. He just needed someone to talk to, it would seem. Reluctantly, you scribbled down your address down on a piece of note paper and handed it to him.

"Look, if you buy more of my apples, I'll have an excuse to tell my Dad so I can hang out with you." You spoke in a low voice as to not raise suspicion.

Your dad is standing negotiating with the guards about prices, his usual embarassing haggling gruffly overpowering the guards elegant twiddle-tones.

"Wonderful! See you soon, my sweet!" He resumes his confident demeanor, tucking the paper into his overcoat with a small smile. He salutes you boyishly and marches away with a year's supply of apples.

For the next week, the royal kitchen had baked 3 apple pies, made 5 fruit salads, 4 batches of apple muffins, and threw the rest of them in Sangria; that's the same Sangria as King Jeon finds himself drinking in his wife's drawing room on Sunday.

"Call Chef, fetch him up here." He waves to his assistant, keeping his eyes on the outside. He was deep in thought, his hands stoicly behind his back.

The Kingdom had been prosperous for over many years now, and war had not come close to threatening its borders in a lifetime. Negotiations were always successful, and quality of living was high. The work of a King, in a situation such as this, was to perfect the image of the royal family as strong rulers, and to paint his daughters as desirable to foreign heirs.

"Your Grace," the assistant called his attention, "Head Chef Sung." The dainty man bows and scurries off somewhere else.

Chef Sung is a portly man, who carries himself heaving with every step, his great belly inflating with each hefty inhale. He approaches the King, and kneels down to kiss his hand with his fat lips.

The King recoils in disgust, but quickly collects himself and his words. "Where are these apples from, is it France or Spain?" He demands.

"Neither, Your Highness." Mr.Sung lifts up his eyes. "They are from our Holy Kingdom; by order of Prince Jungkook, an entire cart was purchased of these apples and we have not been able to get rid of them." Tears threatened Chef Sungs eyes at the very mention of the fruit.

'Well, there's one thing the kid's done right.' King Jeon now faces the Chef, setting down his drink on a mahogany table, leaning against it casually. "Well! Good. I'd like to meet the owner of that cart, invite him to my Sunday brunch."

"Oh, yes, of course sir! You'll never see them in our kitchen aga--What?" Chef Sung takes out his handkerchief, waving it around in the air and drying his tears at once. "So you like them! Why...Yes! Yes, of course!"

Your father thought it would be valuable to have you around the kitchen, learning from the skilled men and women employed by the Jeon family. He only visited once a week to drop off fresh produce, (he'd been officially hired to handle restocking of goods) but you, after showing promising signs of being a gifted baker during one of your father's restocks, were granted scholarship by Ms.Kang to be her aid.

You were now, officially, a resident of the Jeon Estate, residing in the servant's quarters, immediately adjacent to the kitchen. This was convenient. It was far too convenient for a certain little Prince to get the idea of wanting a midnight snack and wandering downstairs.

One day, he does just that. He finds his way into the first bedroom to the right of the stairs facing the kitchen, and that happens to be your bedroom.

He pokes you awake. "Ow! Ow, whyyy~" You whine and toss yourself over to the other side of the bed. His irritating poking persists. You grab his fingers and your eyes shatter open.

You sit up, alarmed. "You could have me arrested, what the fuck are you doing?!"

"I wanted a midnight snack! Besides, I wanna talk to you." He pouts, still holding a small teddy companion.

"Fine. I'll bake you ONE sheet of cookies." You slip on your night shoes and shuffle to the kitchen, and Jungkook tags along.

By the time Jungkook's 18th birthday comes around, he's in the kitchen helping you whisk buttercream to top his cake while having a tease at the Austrian Princess' mole.

"You have one right under your lip, look!" You take a little buttercream from the bowl and stain the dark spot with it.

He licks it up and hastens to add, "it needs more sugar, lady!" as he turns to grab a puffy bag of confection sugar.

"You're impossible to please." Snatching the sugar away from him, you smirk. "You can gobble down as many sweets as you want when the ball commences. Remember, this is the year you're supposed to be keeping your eye out for a girl of a good fam--"

"Yada yada, must have hips for childbearing, yada yada yada..." He mocks the speech his mother had told him that morning when he got dressed.

"Exactly." You set your bowl aside to fix Jungkook's tie. "Yes, and that's your duty, as our heir."

You step back and examine Jungkook one more time. He'd grown so tall in the last year, his legs like spider's and he was just beginning to grow into his features. Handsome boy.

You, too, had grown into an elegant young woman. You had a poised complexion, ready-mannered and graceful. Your hands seemed out of place in your otherwise feminine frame, carrying an extra bit of girth from baking. You were 19 years old.

Marriage was becoming an uncomfortably frequent topic during your visits home, as your mother had married young, herself, she expected the same of you.

Truth be told, there were plenty of offers for your hand. You were a skilled and very esteemed individual, who had broken into thr artisinal class. But your father knew better than put a dowry on your happiness. So long as you worked, he saw no reason to marry you off just yet.

"Now, go. Your sisters must be worried sick! Go out there." You shoo him, pushing him out the door of the kitchen despite his flailing arms.

Throughout the party, you'd been carrying a platter of your own baked goods, serving them to the aristocrats attending the Princes' coming-of-age ball. Accents from all over Europe and some from Kingdoms as far East as Cyprus jubilantly engaged in artful conversation which filled the air with good spirits.

Jungkook, himself, was busy being introduced to as many women as possible, a medley of presenting duchesses, ladies, and even Princesses of your Kingdom. They were each more qualified than you'll ever be, ten-fold.

One was a Greek Princess, her hair cascaded in darling curls down her shoulders and her eyes were deep-set, her voice a flirtatious trill.

Another, a Prussian Princess', posture radiated excellency, and whose complexion sparkled like powdered snow. Jungkook greeted her warmly, pleased with her appearance.

Distracted, you tripped up your skirt and dropped the remainder of your pastries. With that, you stepped off to use the restroom.

The sound of Strauss' Rosen aus dem Süden faintly loomed in the air as you wiped tears from your waterline in the mirror. That was just the way it was, wasn't it? Princes come of age, and they find wives who they commit their lives to.

"Married men don't have friends who are girls." You say out loud, just to realize it. Jungkook was now expected to find a mate within the season, and he was, in fact, quite the eligible bachelor.

Little did you know that Jungkook had been keeping an eye out for you throughout the party, not only because you were carrying his favorite Danish pastires, but because he knew your company was his greatest comfort.

He's in the midst of greeting the Duchess of Kent when he excuses himself to go look for you. He finds your mess first, frowning as he realizes something has gone terribly wrong.

He catches you in the hallway, face puffy and shaky. He grabs your wrist to keep you from darting back to the kitchen.

"Please don't do this, it's my birthday, y/n." It's as if an unspoken rule had been broken between you, and he feels it. Something is making you uncomfortable. "Was it the girls? You told me about this, it's my duty to at least greet them and--"

"Yeah, you sure did greet the Prussian woman nicely." You speak through tears. "She's the girl you were born to be with, huh? Your birthright?"Jungkook is silent. "Every girl at that ball wants to be your wife, want to have your children. They haven't known you for a day and yet they're ready to be your bride."

You search Jungkook's eyes for any sign of coherence, hoping that he would defend against you, that he would speak up and tell you otherwise. No such argument comes.

You yank your arm from his grip and march to the kitchen to remake the pastries you spilled.

You had the job of clearing off all the tables upon the departure of the last guests. It is midnight, and the windows of the castle stream moonlight down on the carpet beneath your feet. The glow of candles soothe you as you hum the waltzes which echo in your mind. It's a brilliant evening.

The centerpieces of the tables were gardenias, lush rose-like flowers with yellow pistils.

Summer, 1809

"Jungkook, wait! You're going to make me trip!" You shout from the top of the hill.

"You've gotta come see before the sun sets! It's the only way we'll get there on time, now run!" Jungkook's speeding down the terrain towards the Sycamore tree which grew deep and wide beneath the banks of a great rushing river.

You groan and throw caution to the wind, rolling down the steep mount in your Sunday dress. Jungkook turns to watch you, a grin spreading across his handsome face. "Look at you!"

You land on your feet at the bottom and scurry off to join Jungkook under the grandfather tree, out of breath entirely. "Now, look what you made me do. You're such a boy, you know that?! Making me come out here just to see some bloody--"

Jungkook has plucked a gardenia and placed it behind your ear. "Would you shut up? We got here on time. Behold."

In all its glory, the sun bathes you in its vivacious rays, creating a feeling of heavenly bliss as it dips below the horizon. The sky blushes pink, its clouds mere whisps above you. Wind rustles the leaves of the grand tree, rousing the birds to chirp their afternoon song.

"Mom used to come here all the time with my Dad, because of these." Jungkook clasped the blooming flower in his tender hands.

After a while, he says "the bugs will come out soon, so we ought to go back," as if he's trying not to scare something away. He helps you up, and with one last look across the valley, you walk next to each other back to the East Quarters.

You take all the silverware and plates by the tub to the dish-washing station and toss all of the linen napkins into the washing machine. All you had left was to blow out the lights in leading upstairs.

"Prince! It is very late, and there are no guests left for you to entertain. What troubles you?" Jungkook's sitting on the stairs with his head in his hands, still wearing his best suit.

"I disappointed you, y/n...I didn't like any of them." He admits, lifting his head up to sulk at you. "I should have told you then, but I didn't want to make you upset!"

Did Jungkook mistake your jealousy for disappointment?

"I'm not upset because you didn't hit it off with the girls..." You sigh. A confession is due, and he's ready to hear the truth from you about how you feel about him.

"Well, the truth is, I didn't like any of the girls because I like you, y/n. But you know that, don't you?" You pause, asking him to elaborate.

"Remember when I bought all the apples because I wanted to be with you? Like...I told you that you were my consort and I kind of meant it?" He felt pathetic now, realizing that you weren't just ignoring his advances. "So you didn't friendzone me for 2 years, you actually didn't know that I liked you."

It was almost laughable, a situation you would read in one of your illegal novels which you kept tucked away in your pillow at night. "No, Kookie, I didn't." You admit to your insolence.

You can't bear to lead him on any longer. You needed to put duty over your own self interest for the sake of the kingdom, even if it shattered his hope. It was better this way.

"But, you do know that we can't ever be a thing, right? It's just silly." Your heart tightens with the words which fall out of your mouth. "It is. Nevermind what your parents would think, what would it do for your image? You're on the world's stage, Jungkook, and you're a selfish person if you think you can just throw all of your duties away to date a scum of the Earth like-- like me!" With your heart in your throat, dry your eyes with your sleeve. "And...I want to, I really really want to, more than anything else to love you, Jungkook. I love you! I...can't." Through the blur of your tears, the shapeless blob that Jungkook has become stands up.

Taking his thumb and swiping it under your eyes, he sighs. Words escaping him, he takes your trembling body against his chest and nestles his head in the crook of your neck. Your cold hands travel underneath his overcoat to hold his waist. The Princes' lips plant a gentle kiss on your neck, chaste yet deep and satisfying.

"I will not accept any bride if not you, my love." He draws back, meeting your fervid gaze. "To the world, I remain a bachelor for a few years."

"And after those years, Jungkook?" You ride your hands up to caress the man's jaw. "You will still love me after those years, and then what?"

"I don't know," he says, voice as soft as powder. "I don't know many things, y/n, that's why I need you to teach me." His palms are rubbing at your waist, beckoning you closer.

His breath quickening as you lean your body against his hold, and you figure it must be the wine he drank to calm his nerves. That was it, wasn't it? He was drunk.

"You're not drunk, are you?" Your face sours, really hoping it's not the case as you feel your body temperature rise.

"Y/N, I've only had a glass. You saw I was a wreck back there." His lips kept chasing yours in a dance you can't quite describe. "I have wanted to hold you like this since I saw you selling apples on the street. Give me the honor..." His forehead against yours and his strong hands supporting your back, he's already fucking you with his eyes.

"The pleasure of being your lover." He squeezes your waist tight with his forearms, planting brisk kisses behind your ear and breathing in your scent. He smiles against you. Your skin pebbles at his affectionate touch, purring softly as your eyes roll back in delight.

"Kookie..." You breathe, leaning on his broad chest. "Kook, the maids are wondering where I am, I have to go..." You slur, tugging at his collar.

He grunts in protest, taking your ear between his teeth and nibbling it.

"If you let me go, I'll steal some cake for you tomorrow at breakfast." If there's anything Jungkook likes more than Cream Ice, it was cake. He unravels you from his arms and nods, his eyes softening.

"Request my service tomorrow, from Ms.Kang. She's been sweet on me lately." You peck his cheek before stepping back. Your rouge has embarrassingly stained His Grace's cheek.

Jungkook bows and presses a kiss on your hand, eyes rising to meet yours. "Til' morrow, babe."

Jiyoo shakes you awake the next morning, handing you a cake and a note that reads: "Prince Jungkook has a commission he must discuss with you. Meet him at his chamber immediately."

Lacing on a simple corset over your nightgown, you try not to look too red in the face as you climb up the stairs to His Majesty's room. You'd be up there alone, as requested. The girls would absolutely start rumors based on that alone-- rumors which you realize are probably totally true. This was stuff of scandal, after all...

'There shouldn't be anything scandalous about love.' You decide as you rap on His Highness' door.

"Please enter...but only if you have my cake!" Jungkook says in his morning voice. He's so cute.

The simplicity of Jungkook's abode takes you by surprise. His bedroom is very well lit, a capital display of the flowered valley through his bay windows washed the room in gold, painting his porcelain white carpets and his cotton sheets a warm creme color. His drawers and vanity were etched in gold, with breathtaking detailing.

The Monarch himself was splayed across the bed, laying on his side casually. He held a glass in his hand, holding a white wine. He puts down his glass and sits up as your presence.

"We both know that you didn't come here as my servant." You lock the door behind you. "And I have no such commission to give you, darling." The innocence which undertones his usual speech is missing as he coaxes you towards him.

"This much I know, Your Majesty," You say, taking a bit of frosting on your index finger and smudging it on the Princes lips. His black eyes, as cunning as a viper, watch you dangerously as you push two fingers past his plush lips. He wraps his hands around your wrist and draws your hand away, his gaze fixating on you.

"Set the cake down." At his command, you carefully place the confection down on a nearby chest, feeling Jungkook's eyes on you, drawing you back towards his grip.

"Let me pull your laces apart," with your waist held by his Herculean hand, he hums "and then let me pull you apart. I want to memorize your pleasures and gratify your desires, I need it, y/n..." Your back flush against his chest and your thighs split, his hands knead into you as he litters your collar with his mark.

You gasp softly against the crook of his neck, giving into his hold of you. His hot tongue spreads under your jaw, closing into a hard kiss as his hands travel back up to undo your corset and free your tits.

One by one, his fingers pop open the buttons left on your gown until the collar hangs off-shoulder to expose your collarbone. At the sight of new skin, Jungkook's tongue darts to stain it.

His hands stagger above your breasts. "Is it okay if I touch you here?"

"Oh, Kookie, touch me everywhere~" Your hands form fists around Jungkook's shirt, beckoning him impossibly closer.

Grasping one ever so carefully, his thumb grazes your bud as he playfully bites under your ear. "ah-- ahh,"

Jungkook groans in response, he can't believe how cute you sound. Curious, he wants to hear more, so he traces your thighs and experimentally pushes up the outside your cunt.

You squirm, tensing up immediately in response. You bring your hands down to find the latch on his trousers and dip your hands below to rub him through his undergarments. He heatedly bucks up to meet your touch, a panting mess.

You face him now as he watches you ride his fingers while you grip his girth through his clothes. He takes you by the ass and places you on his prominent bulge, hips rolling into you as he hungrily kisses you, his firm hands grinding your core on his cock.

His face is a sinful red, panting under you desperately.

"I've been wanting to do this," His voice warbles through your touch, running your thumb along his underside. It's his turn to gasp. He sits up and collapses his lips into yours, softer than rose petals and his taste faintly like wine.

You place your hand on his chest, and his heart is pounding, a thin layer of sweat already forming on his honeylike complexion.

Hastily, you pull your dress over your head and lean back to allow him to familiarize himself with your stark form, a dainty chain hanging between your bosom. Jungkook bites his lips as he wriggles out of his clothing, desposing of it beside the bed.

He's giddy behind those sultry eyes, you know him well enough that he's overexcited to get inside of you. It goes straight to his cock, your playfulness as you feel up his bare shoulders and discover his abdominals, your fingers tracing his ridges with a sense of innocent wonder.

He takes your hands and looks at you in this way-- Butterflies fill your stomach instantly. Jungkook's thumbing at your pout with his intrepid fingers.

His eyes flutter when grip his base and submerge your upper body below his hips. You lick a long, thick stripe up his underside, causing his breath to hitch and his head to fall back on to the bed.

Those goddamn cupid's bow lips of his would whisper the dirtiest things under his breath, lewd thoughts that sounded completely alien coming from His Majesty's mouth, he said for you.

"Oh, such a pretty mouth~ It's so good, y/n, you swallow me so good--" he moaned like a mantra, trying to keep his hips from snapping up into you. Your hot, wet tongue wrapped around his throbbing cock was only a fantasy to him for years.

He fills your throat with his girth, his taste tantalizingly smooth. It leaves your mouth with a 'pop.' You struggle to keep your legs apart as you crawl up to kiss him.

He takes those fingers of his and slides his index and middle into you and languidly thrusts them, smirking against your lips. "Shit, you liked that, hmm..."

"Kookie...please," you whine as he squeezes your ass hard before smacking it. You yelp, the sting of his fingers radiating from your skin.

"I like it when you beg, y/n, it's so cute..." He pulls your ass up to his thighs. He's flush hard against your abdomen, already sticky with his precum and your spit. You marvel at the self control he has.

You don't finish your thought before he has his head inside of you, impaling you on his cock and stretching your entrance, hissing at how incredible it felt to have you around him.

His shaft reached pleasure points within you had yet to discover. You clench, feeling his tip brush against your cervix. "Wh... hngh," he groans, "how did you do that, do it again--" You wrap your legs around his thighs and clench around him, biting your lip. You watch as he shivers from pleasure, feeling his skin horripilate under your touch.

His thumb is softly circling above your clit as he pulls out of you carefully. He swirls back in, nestling himself inside your heat, hissing. "Ahh~ Jungkook~!" At the sound of his first name moaned out of your mouth, he groans and rolls his hips up to create messy friction. That familiar knot in your stomach tingles as he plays with the bundle of nerves buried within you.

He glances up at your ruined lips, clashing with them again as he lifts your knees up with his hands and thrusts nice and rough, making you yell with every jolt of his cock. The smell and sound of sex fills the room as he experiments with positions, laying you on all fours.

"Get your ass up for me." You obey, ever servile. You're reminded-- you're his servant. He owns your work, he owns your services, and now he wants you in the most lucrative way, he wants your soaked cunt around his imperial cock. He gets what he wants.

Jungkook's palms smack against your ass one more time, just to watch the way it jiggles for him. He smirks a little before he shoves himself into your pretty little cunt. You bury your face into the pillows in pelasure as he chases your orgasm with vigor, fingering your clitoris while you move your hips back to meet his hard thrusts.

You whine like a harlot, his cock allowing you every satisfaction as he works a head-spinning orgasm out of that cunt. "I'm gonna cum, Kookie~!" you warn as you spasm against his length, moans ripping from your throat as you coat him with your thick juices.

His hips stutter up and he just barely pulls himself completely from you as he paints your back white, a guttural groan escaping his mouth.

After a while of loud panting and scattered giggling, Jungkook reaches over for a wet cloth and cleans the both of you gingerly. You trail your hands up to caress his jaw and kiss his lips softly.

"You need to tell everyone that I had a long and extensive request for the Harvest party, that I wanted a lot of fall fruits and vegetables featured in the baked goods, make it as specific as possible and make sure that you mention that I want to meet with you again, over dinner." His labored breathing punctuate his words, as youd kisses consume him. "And..."

"And?" You cock an eyebrow, simpering.

"Doyouthinkmaybeyoucouldbringmesomemilktogowithmycake?" He mumbles, eyes glued on the bed.

"What?" (If you give a Kookie a Cookie...)

Disgruntled, he sighs and repeats: "Milk! Milk for my cake. I know it's moist cause you made it but I'm really thirsty, especially after..." His cheeks flush a cute pink. You wait for him to continue just to fluster him a little more. "Y/N, just please!" You can't ever refuse his pouty face.

Next week, Jungkook's got you pinned against the hallway wall, making out with you hungrily as his hands ride up your dress. Just across the hall, his Dad is negotiating war with Portugal over land in the West.

The next month, you have his cock buried in your throat underneath the table at an important conference about how to create jobs.

All this while the pressure for Jungkook to find a bride continues to rise as he reaches seniority, and as his father's grey hairs pronounce themselves.

Warm touches are always hidden away to the public eye, but often shared between two kindred spirits underneath the man in the moon's watchful eye. Jungkook, as he reaches his maturity, grows strong. His jaw sharpens, and his eyes darken. His hair grows long, and he gains weight. Now at the proud age of 20, Jungkook had become a man before everyone's eyes, including the eyes of foreign monarchs and their eligible bachelorettes.

One day, you're serving the Royal family at a private dinner, when the topic of marriage comes up for the first time since his birthday.

"Your mother has made friends with the mother of the Austrian Princess, and she's invited you to the cordial ball to introduce yourself to the Princess. An allyship with Austria would prove advantageous for our relations with France, so you are to make your best impression." The King wipes his mouth. Setting his fork down, he continues: "It is in the family's best interest for you to marry her, if the French Princess, Anastasie, does not present this season or the next." The Queen holds the King's hand firmly, reassuring him from his shoulder. She wears a slight frown on her face, her eyes worrisome, somber. The King hides his anxiety, as he's been accustomed to from decades of responsibility. Would this be the face of Jungkook soon?

For now, Jungkook's face is scrunching at the thought of marrying Anastasie. She's not the most delightful young woman, her imprudence ruined her enjoyment of any event. She couldn't keep an intuitive conversation about regional politics and domestic policy for the life of her. Her people were on the brink of overthrowing the aristocracy, he was sure of it.

"Yes, father," is what you hear from him before you disappear down the stairs to fetch desserts.

Jiyoo interrupts your quest for sweets with a letter, signed by His Grace. She has a naturally innocent demeanor, her cheeks rosy and her frame as delicate as a feather. "Y/N, you have another special request from His Majesty...can I ask you why you get so many of these?" She looks genuinely curious, not a single menacing thought behind those eyes.

"It's because the Prince really really loves his cake." I mean, technically it was true. Jungkook never passed up an opportunity to squeeze, smack, or dig his fingernails into your ass during your sessions.

"Oh." Jiyoo pouts. "So it's not because you're like, in love or anything?" Her eyes are glued to the floor. You were expecting this question eventually, as the other girls in the kitchen were already suspecting it. It was only a matter of time before word slipped into the girl's ears.

"As much as I enjoy the Prince's interest in my baking, it isn't my place to confess any sort of feeling for him." Your answer is straightforward enough, so Jiyoo nods and hands you the letter. Another request.

Outside the Palace, Winter came like the wind. Lakes froze over, and couples tied up their skates and danced on the ice. The trees were bare and brown, not a single leaf persisting through the chilling breath of Jack Frost.

Jungkook had left for the Winter Palace, to volunteer and raise spirits up in the North. As heir to the throne, he was to be Commander in Chief of the Royal Armed Forces, and therefore needed to undergo intensive training in order to boost morale.

You're back home, and in your wake is your father, who has now grown tangibly tired. He's been on a strict diet of warm vegetable soup for about three months, now. His eyes are sunken, but he still wears a subtle smile even during his most trying days.

Match girls make their rounds at night, you watch as the lamplighters illuminate the streets with their tall ladders and their taller peacoats. Shop windows glow warm shades of yellow and creme; inscriptions on the glass create shadows on the white snow.

"Wow. It's almost as cold as the King's heart out here." You step outside one day with a cup of tea, sneaking in a cheeky smirk. Yeah, good one.

"I heard that!" You turn towards the little voice. A child, maybe about 9 or 10 years old is pointing at you. You squint at it.

"Well, it's true..." You mumble. You have a bit of change in your pocket, so you walk towards a stand to buy a hot bun and a paper.

"Chilly today, hon...Best you take this on the house." The tenant hands you a steaming cake wrapped in a simple cloth and your paper. You stick the paper in your dress pocket and take back your change. You nod a 'thank you.'

You spill the contents of your pockets on the dining table and snatch the paper, snapping it open. Your eyes eagerly skim the headline: "Prince Jungkook Fires Up Royal Army." Below is an article detailing the happenings of His Majesty. All of it sounded very intense, the running, strategizing, first aid training...Was there anything Prince Jeon couldn't nail on the first try?

You set the paper down and pick up your now lukewarm tea. In the back of your mind you're coping with the fact that the Spring Solstice is next week, and that marks the beginning of Jungkook's last season as a Prince.

The King is ill with tuberculosis, and recovery is unlikely. If Jungkook is to marry, it is next season and that was final.

Sitting at the window of his Winter Castle study, Jungkook plays with a ring nestled between his fingers. He looks out onto the lake, as if he's trying to reach you with his gaze. His heart is tight knowing that it would be the season he chooses his bride. Actually, he'd already made up his mind long ago. If his duty was to marry, there was no way to evade such a responsibility. He had to fulfill it, despite his anxieties.

He straightens up and walks out of the hollow room with a firm step.

You awaken with the sound of horse's hooves thudding against the Earth. It is yet to be dawn, and in the distance, thunder roars mightily.

A figure wearing a long, black hood hoists itself off of the animal, tying it to a nearby post. It walks towards an obscure entrance, unknown to many staff.

Intrigued, you wrap a blanket around yourself and peek out at the stranger. His fingers are shorter than his palms, and that's when he tosses of his hood, his eyes set on you. "Y/N..."

You're bewildered by his guise, questions filling your head.

"I was horny, so I left camp" He sits down at the counter, catapulting a cookie into his mouth.

You roll your eyes. "And the guards let you?! Jungkook!" You whisper-yelled at him, readjusting your makeshift blanket-dress.

"Obviously not!" He puffed out his chest with pride. "I bribed them," he smirks.

"You're insufferable," you scoff, your eyes wandering down to observe his physique. His shirt is anything but conservative, highlighting the muscle he'd earned through laborious, sweat-inducing drills. You can feel his eyes on your face as you observe him.

"You can't hide it either," he crosses his arms. "You're standing in the kitchen with a blanket around your naked body." He flicks his tongue. He steps forward, putting a finger under your jaw so you're looking him in the eye.

Your eyes fill with lust as he speaks over your lips. "Look at yourself..." A crash is heard in the other room.

Jungkook's head darts up and in a flash, he disappears into the night.

'Fuck.' You gather your dress from the floor and shuffle back to your chamber.

The first event of the season commences with the most exaltant of spirits as friends of old greet each other with youthful smiles. Juicy exposés, enticing tales, and thoughtful greetings are exchanged in the most formal manner, and the conversation is lively; the most controversial topic of conversation, however, is the rumor that Jungkook is to marry this season.

So far, he's been to four different private residences within his own Kingdom and has been invited, by the secretary of King Louis XVII to meet their daughter. It would be an understatement to say that stakes were high for the pending King.

You were kneading your dough a little too hard thinking about it. "Not so rough, y/n!" Ms.Kang snatches the mixture from your hands. "What is up with you lately, you're so tense! It's really disrupting the kitchen's dynamic."

You shrug it off. "It's going to be hard sedating Anastasie's sweet tooth, I suppose."

"Well, you seem to be doing just fine dealing with Jungkook's addiction to cakes...She's perfect for him, really." Ms.Kang throws more flour on your kneading table and steps off. You give up on the dough, covering it with a cloth and letting it rise.

Jungkook is tapping his feet, munching on finger sandwiches as he waits on you to make an appearance.

"Dearest Prince, look, I am wearing Mediterranean violet!" A duchess shouts as she passes by him, to which he raises his eyebrows at. Another, with dark green eyes approaches and begins speaking rapidly in French at him. Frightened and undereducated, his canned response was: "Excusez-moi, Pouvez-vous répéter plus lentement s'il vous plaît," to which the duchess furrows her eyebrows before something else catches her attention, elsewhere.

Truth is, Jungkook is incredibly shaken at the thought of announcing his engagement tonight. Well, that and the fact that you had yet to pop out of the kitchen. Man, those finger sandwiches were good.

As the night progresses, Jungkook realizes that if he doesn't get up on that platform and say what he needed to say, he'd have to say it in London. Setting his fears aside, he plants himself on top of the orchestral stage and taps a champagne glass with a cheese fork. The music comes to a stop.

With conviction, he begins: "The time has come that I announce my engagement. To all of my beloved friends, who have introduced me to the most beautiful, talented, diverse, and benevolent ladies I've come to get to know over the years, I thank you from the depths of my soul." He swallows and continues, his confident voice masking his trembling. "The life of a Prince is defined by the virtues presented to him at birth. Those virtues are: duty, responsibility, grace, kindness, mercy and integrity." Here comes the part, oh shit.

"I am abdicating my throne to my Cousin, the Duke of Namseong."

Silence sweeps the room. You poke your head out to see what was going on.

"...to marry the love of my life, y/n." He points at you. Your face is cherry red, and you find yourself dropping those same Danish fucking pastries all over the carpet.

"Shit," you fall on your knees, plucking them from the ground one by one. You don't know whether to run as fast as you can or to present yourself, but your body seems to be currently doing the latter. You go along with it.

Jungkook takes your hand tenderly on the stage. "I am unable to perform my duties as King, and therefore am ineligible for the throne." His touch gives you the will to continue beside him. You feel the pure fear rushing through your love's veins, and he knows that this is the hardest thing he'll ever have to do, yet he stands by his announcement.

So, if Jungkook doesn't get to be King of this World, he at least will forever be the King of Your Heart.

But all this, of course...is all in Your, dear reader, Head.

a/n:

hope you enjoyed.

572 notes · View notes

vermillioncrown · 3 years

Note

Oops I meant to submit this as a Ask instead, so ANYWAY:

Two ideas, and pls forgive me if it goes into another plane of possibility:

1. How about ZYX + the Prince? Only because it hints that the guy ZYX made fun of in the royal library for reading romance novels is actually the Prince. Wouldn’t it be hilarious for ZYX to suddenly appear as Queen in front of Gucci gang and WWX/LMJ going “lol you guys are fucked”, and turning the MDZS world upside down with her queenly rule? Also the Prince might be soft hearted, and ZYX helps to balance this out with their *chaos*.

I started on this ship and I can’t stop going forward.

2. How about Z!Cangse Sanren? That would be *amazing*, and what is CSR actually survives through mad inventions and lots of math?

1. hey. you. your peepers are sure working 👀👀👀👀👀

there's stuff in store for the imperial entanglements :)

but if zyx becomes empress/imperial consort (bc at this level, it's not just a queen), they would be choosing to no longer involve themselves with the cultivation realm. part of cultivation is the fact that you're defying the heavens by trying to ascend, and that's not just philosophy, it's fact. the more powerful you get, the more breakthroughs you attempt, the more the heavens will test you (violently). by trying to cultivate and establish power in the mundane realm, it's as if you're trying to challenge the heavens with the earth. not allowed. that's calling for heavenly calamities to hit the earth for that transgression.

you might be wondering "verm, then how can there be any imperial entanglements at all???"

well, grandpa zhu has an in, somehow. you'll see when you see.

[crown prince is currently UNAVAILABLE as an option. pre-requisites have not been met.]

2. z!cssr is rogue!zyx that wandered out of containment two decades earlier

(i have a feeling that og!cssr wasn't merely wild, she prob was teasing lqr to the point of bullying him)

(like, no matter how much you find a guy annoying, it's mean and highly disrespectful, borderline violent, to forcefully modify their body)

things haven't gone to full shit yet, might as well do something about it

find a way to assassinate wrh (bc what does z!cssr know about power vacuums and history of a sect??) whatever falls out, will fall out

(what if z!cssr's increasingly outlandish assassination attempts become the fun thing that keeps wrh from going off the megalomania deep end?)

(jianghu's weirdest friendship, take 6)

z!cssr spends a lot of time otherwise roaming around, seeing sights, helping people (like rogue!zyx, but with less of the 'oh god there is a problem and i'm pretending it doesn't exist'). so of course she'll have encounters with the big sects ("what's 'jurisdiction'? haha i'm barely literate") (she's literate enough)

spends a lot of time avoiding big sect heirs (besides her biannual 'murder wrh' event), but makes friends with the people in their periphery. or women that will someday be married to the heirs/leaders.

(no way to miscommunicate any jfm & cssr & yzy drama, z!cssr doesn't go out her way to interact w jfm and would rather meet w yzy if she had to meet someone of authority, idk what jfm's deal is so let's say he only has passing interest in "bssr's disciple" like many others but it fizzles out, yzy becomes reluctant friends w z!cssr when it becomes apparent that z!cssr might be slightly ignorant, but they're not a naïve idiot)

idk i think wei changze must have had something to have drawn in cssr in canon, he seems like a person that z!cssr can genuinely catch feelings for (zyx is typically demisexual, but feelings are never off the table. with how society tends to conflate sex = feelings, it's easier to forego both).

pregnancy is bweh gross, but biggest fear is dying via childbirth + loss of autonomy as a pregnant lady from doctors + other people's perceptions. as z!cssr and a powerful rogue cultivator, she can literally do the thing she wants - fuck off without no contact until she wants to come back, after all business has been concluded. biggest influence is a morbid curiosity/some sort of obligation to bring wwx into the world.

"oh you got married - you GOT MARRIED AND DIDN'T EVEN INVITE YOUR FRIENDS?!"

"WHERE DID THIS KID EVEN COME FROM?!?"

"... me?"

^yzy near throttling her friend for her whimsical ways.

oh, and as a wandering rogue, likely z!cssr would have made friends w mme lan a long time ago. spidey senses tingle when she thinks about a friend she hasn't checked in on for a while, and "no... nah, that would be too convenient. but maybe... but nah. nah?"

wcz sighs, packing up the family's bags and corralling little wwx "i'll get us checked out of the inn and grab supplies." he's too used to z!cssr's whims.

#helpline6336 #inquiry #zyx au's #mdzyx #dbd what if #dbd love shack #< that's for the crown prince part #and for the z!cssr part #hopefully z!cssr gets there soon enough to stop mme lan from wasting away #tiny wwx and lwj can have playdates #also emotionally resilient jiang sibs!#z!cangse sanren

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pretoriafics · 3 years

Text

The Princess Diaries

I'm in the princess mood today because I found out that The Princess Diaries are in Disney+. Man, I love this movie SO MUCH!!! Have fun <3

You are the heir of a throne, and you just want to take a break from the monarchy. So, you are in Beacon Hills trying to taste the normal life you always wanted, but in secret! No one knows you are a Princess, but Scott finally finds out. Completely annoyed, you are writing in your diary about how this crap happened. Word count: 1.366 Pairings: Princess!Reader x Enemy!Derek; Princess!Reader x Platonic!Scott; Princess!Reader x Platonic!Stiles; Princess!Reader x Platonic!Erica; A/N: Penny is the way you calls your diary Contain: I think it's pretty fun Warnings: English is not my main language <3; Inappropriate language TEEN WOLF MASTERLIST

Dearest Penny,

I'm freaking out. You have no idea how hard to hide so many secrets from so many people! First of all: I need to be discreet not only because of all that supernatural crap I'd got into now. No one can't ever knows that a real princess is hiding in this city. I want just some peace taking a hiatus from the monarchy, and I'll not have this if everyone found out the truth about me. And, trust me, I'd been passing through a lot through those times.

First of all: Despite being trying to be constantly helpful to Scott and Derek's pack, they are suspicious as hell about me. Everyone in both packs knew I'm hiding something. Derek's bet I'm a hunter. Scott thinks I'm something else. Then, I got Lydia always talking things like 'I'm pretty sure I saw you somewhere else'. Stiles agrees with her because 'yeah, you sound pretty familiar'.

Second: I have Mr. Abbott on my back. He is the man responsible for my security in the USA, which means that, despite being far away from home, it seems like my bodyguards and all people from the royal court still think that I'm porcelain. It means that it has been pretty troublesome to keep them away from all the supernatural bullshit.

I was working as a History Teacher, not just because of my disguise, but I want to know what it's like to have an ordinary life. Contrary to my father's wishes, my car was old, and it sucked. My house? Small and single-story, and the entire security team had to stay in plain clothes, staying in neighboring houses.

But dear Penny, I'm not here to talk about my new and temporary commoner life. I'm here to talk about that, yeah, I was finally exposed.

Well, I was parking my damn old car in the parking lot when I saw something that got me in a bad mood instantly. Not too far away from my car, I saw Derek and Scott talking about something. Judging by Scott's face, they were arguing. I took my books and my notebook from the passenger's seat and walked to them.

"Hey, boys. It seems like you both are in such a friendly talk! What's wrong?"

Derek gives me a deadly glare.

"This is not of your business."

I opened my mouth dramatically, faking a happy surprise.

"You're so sweet. Actually, you're so sweet that sometimes I just want to punch you in the face."

Gosh, I hate him so. Fucking. Much.

He narrowed his green eyes for me, and Scott begins to talk.

"I got some pages of a bestiary, and we need a translation."

Derek looks at Scott.

"You will not give the pages to her."

"She's fluent in greek! And French, and Spanish..."

I smiled at him. Scott forgot about Norwegian. Considering I have cousins in the Norway monarchy, I must be able to talk their language.

"She's not trustworthy." Derek says, looking at me. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not a fucking hunter, okay? If I was one, I'd already cut your head off."

"Derek" Scott looks at the alpha "She's our only chance."

Derek let out a long and angry sigh.

"Fine! But..." He stares at me. If his gaze would be capable of killing, I'd already fallen dead on the floor. "You'll do the translations at my loft, under my sight. If I found out you shared the translations with someone else, I'll rip your throat."

I blinked my eyes a few times, without any reaction. Okay, I was a little bit scary. He was scary. I faked a smile.

"My fear of you is completely bearable."

Derek gives his back for me and walks to his car. Then, Scott looks at me.

"He's right. It will be better if you do the translations at his loft."

My eyes got wider. It was outrageous!

"Come on, Scott! I never let you down. All this suspicious about me is ridiculous."

Scott was serious. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"So, what are you hiding?"

I felt my bones froze. Well, I couldn't simply tell Scott the truth. Yeah, I was taking a temporary break from the monarchy, but it doesn't mean that I can tell Scott whatever I want. I feared it could change things between both of us. I really like Scott, but if he tells someone? The entire city would know who I am, and I would have to come back to my country. Dammit!

"I'm not hiding anything, Scott."

"You can't lie to me, (Y/N). I can listen to your heartbeat."

I let out a long sigh. It was hard to hide things. Then, Scott looks at me. His expression brightened.

"Wait! I know what you're hiding."

My heart failed a beat, and my face gets pale when he took his cell phone out of his pocket. He writes something on it and, then, he looks at me, scared.

"Holy crap, I knew I already saw you! You're a fucking princess!"

Fuck.

"Shhhhh!!!" I gave him a deadly stare "Shut up!! Oh damn, I hate teenagers and their obsession for the royalty!"

As euphoric as he was surprised, Scott spoke lower now but not with less shock.

"What the hell are you doing here?! You're a teacher! And you drive an old car! And your clothes-"

"Watch your words, McCall! Watch your words!"

"It doesn't make any sense! Where your bodyguards?"

"They are in plain clothes around the school, which is ridiculous for me. I have a gun bearing, and I could kick Derek's ass if I want to. I don't need them, but you know, people are neurotic with my safety."

Scott was looking at me in shock.

"This is so crazy. Why are you here?"

"I'm taking a break from the monarchy. My dad wants me to marry a Duke because 'he is an appropriate man'." I faked my dad's voice, and then I rolled my eyes "We are pretty traditional, which sucks. But I don't wanna marry. I took a break from the monarchy and asked to stay here. You know, Beacon Hills is a low-profile city."

"Will you be, like, a queen one day?"

"Yeah buddy, I'm the heir of the throne. But don't worry, I'll invite you to my coronation."

Scott was still looking at me with widening eyes when Stiles and Erica approach us. Stiles arched his eyebrows when he saw Scott's face.

"...What's happening?"

I gave Scott a deadly glare as a silent threat to him to stay quiet. Scott looks at Stiles and Erica. Both of them are pretty suspicious.

"Uh..." Scott cleared his throat "Nothing."

Erica crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"You lie."

I rolled my eyes. On man, come on!

"I'll just translate the pages Scott found, but your alpha is an arse. I'll need to translate it while being watched by that shitbag. So, you will need to see my beautiful eyes more often."

"Well," Erica narrowed her eyes to me "Considering that you definitely are hiding something, this is not a bad idea."

I would reply to her, but I noticed Stiles looking at me. He was trying to recognize me. Dude, it was just a matter of time until Stiles remembers about me. I'm so fucked up! Erica stares at Stiles with arched eyebrows.

"Weirdo..." She said.

"Hey, Stiles" It was my turn to say something "Do you want to make a painting of me?"

"Man... I swear by God that I already saw you before. This is so weird!"

"Maybe it was in a porn."

Stiles looks at me, scared. Erica holds a laugh. Is he really believing this?

"Do you do porn?!"

"Hell, no Stiles! Do you think I look like a porn actress? Jeez!" Completely pissed off, I turn my back for them while Erica laughs. And I didn't stop talking "Stop watching those things, Stilinski. Go talk with some real girls."

I entered the school apparently calm. However, I was freaking out inside of me. I don't even want to think when Stiles finally finds out. Wish me luck, Penny! I'm in need.

#teen wolf imagine #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf fanfics #teen wolf fics #teen wolf fanfic #derek hale imagine #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #derek hale fanfics #derek hale x you #derek hale x y/n #scott mccall x you #scott mccall x reader #scott mccall x y/n #scott mccall fanfic #scott mccall fanfics #scott mccall fics #scott mccall imagine #scott mccall imagines

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

Californian Dream (Pt. 04 of 11)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Being part of one of the richest families of California doesn't mean you're happy. Your life is boring, and you're surrounded by meaningless people and their meaningless talk. Even during Summer, with the break you have from college, there's nothing good going on. Nothing but the new pool guy, Billy, the most handsome man you ever saw. You were successfully avoiding him, not wanting to act like an idiot in front of the guy until Billy accepts to be your date for a fancy gala you're forced to attend. The night was going well, even better when he sneaked you out to go to the beach. But a gang of criminals breaks into the party, kidnapping the heirs to the wealthiest families, which includes you. So, for your safety, your parents want you to stay with Billy, living in his apartment until the criminals are caught. And that could take weeks, maybe even months.

Warnings: Light violence

<- Previous part (03)

Next part (05) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

Distance

In the morning, you tiptoe to the living room, but everything you find of Billy is a small note left on the kitchen table. He's at work and must be back by 5 or 6 pm. He said you can make something for lunch, and that he'll bring dinner. So, now that you're alone, you can't help but think. The names of those who died to keep playing back, and Gisele's is the one that comes louder. You feel bad for all the times you were mean to her, when you left her talking alone, storming away. But it's useless to feel this way now. It won't bring her back.

You're pacing around the living room, the news channel on, as they repeat the same things over and over. When you put both hands on your head, out of desperation, you feel as Billy's shirt lifts a little, exposing your thighs. And you realize you'll need clothes. And all your personal stuff. “Ame.” You mutter, going to the phone and calling home. As usual, it's Amelia who answers, and she squeals, happy to know you're fine. After telling her everything that happened and where you'll be staying, you start giving the instructions. Well, she's the one to point out what you'll need and how to cover up who you are.

The goal is to remain hidden, but you won't be stuck inside the apartment. So you need to look different, and for that, Amelia advises you to buy new clothes, normal clothes, instead of using the ones you have. And she kindly offers to buy everything you'll need and bring them over later today. She'll also bring all of your personal stuff. And money. Amelia tells you to keep some money with you, in case you need it. You're not sure what for, but you agree.

She gets here after lunch, with three huge pieces of baggage, and she helps you drag them to Billy's bedroom. Then, after you change out of Billy's shirt, she shows off the last part of her plan. Amelia wants to dye your hair and cut off a few inches. You don't think it's necessary, but she's worried about the situation, and for the sake of the woman who raised you, you let her do it. Once she's done, she helps you clean the bathroom before leaving, giving you a tight hug and asking you to keep in touch and be careful.

Then the rest of the day is pretty boring. You do give some trips to the bathroom, just to check the hair. It's nice having your natural color back, but you never thought it would be in these circumstances.

You're watching the news again, seating on the couch, when the door opens. Turning your head, you give Billy a small smile. When his eyes find you, he furrows his eyebrows. It takes a while for you to understand why the confused expression.

“Oh! It was Amelia.” Quickly, you explain, standing on your feet and noticing the pizza he brought. “I called her and she helped me get some stuff done and well...” You gesture at your hair. “I've been bleaching it since Elementary school so I bet nobody will recognize me now. Amelia is probably the only one who remembers my natural color but... This is it.” You're speaking too much, and maybe a little too fast, but you're not sure why. “What do you think?”

He squints his eyes, moving to put the pizza on the table. “I think you're already planning on going out.” Well, obviously. He can't possibly expect you to stay locked up in here.

“I was talking about the hair, but ok.” Shrugging your shoulders, you gesture at the pizza. “Can I eat it?”

“Yeah. I'll take a shower.”

“I'll wait for you then.”

“Alright.” Billy stands there for a few seconds, awkwardly, before walking to the bedroom. “The hair is good, by the way.”

“Thanks.” You mutter, smiling a little.

“(Y/N)!” He calls out suddenly, startling you. “Why is there a bag full of money on my bed?”

“Oh!” Rushing to his bedroom, you find a very confused Billy. You left the dark blue bag on the edge of the bed, and you completely forgot about it. “Amelia said I should have money with me, just in case I need it.” Running a hand through your hair, you sigh. “But, uhm, if you need or want to buy something, you can, I mean... It's fifty-seven thousand dollars.” Reaching out inside that bag, you take one of the many piles. “Every pile has one thousand... So if I fall and break a bone you can use it to pay the hospital.

“Break a bone? Should I worry about that?”

“Just trying to light up the mood.” Giggling, you glance at him. “I won't jump from the window or anything. And those are my things.” You gesture, at the pieces of luggage. “Amelia got me new clothes. Normal clothes, not the expensive ones my mother makes me buy.”

“Amelia has everything figured out.”

“She does... I'll let you do your stuff.” Nodding to yourself, you walk away. You can't help but feel a little weird with all this, and the sensation of being nothing but a bother to Billy is starting to kick in.

You patiently wait for him, watching the news again. And the content of the tape was finally made known. And it's not good. Everyone was expecting a normal rescue. They'd say how much they want, get paid, and let the kids go. But apparently, that's not how it'll be.

“(Y/N).” The mention of your name startles you, your heart skipping a beat, and that's when you notice how focused you were. “Everything alright?”

“No.” You breathe out as Billy turns the TV off. “They have thirteen kids, right? It means they want thirteen parts. They'll let the media know how much, and when they get paid, they'll release one. Whoever they want. It doesn't mean that the Whaylands will get James out if they pay up.”

“These guys know what they're doing.” Billy looks down, thoughtful. “This will create chaos between the families.”

“Yeah... I'm even glad I'm stuck here because I wouldn't want to be anywhere near that mess.” Standing from the couch, you move to the kitchen table. “Can I?”

“Sure.”

Drumming your fingers on the table, you sit down, thinking about everyone they got. Alice, James, Daniel. Melissa, Candace. Michael, Antony, and Ryan. There are more... But you can't remember. Where are they now? Are they hungry? Are they being treated nicely? You doubt it. By the violence those men showed, they're not being nice. It could've been you, who knows where now, maybe starving, terrified... They're not your friends. They're just people you know, but still, you want them all back, alive and well. You want to hug them, to talk to them again, even if it means being part of their superficial conversations. You just want to have the chance to.

“Hey,” Billy calls, and you snap out of your thoughts, noticing you were biting your lip too harshly. “You ok?”

“Yeah.” Muttering, you take a slice of pizza, taking a bite.

“What did you have for lunch?” The question comes in a careful tone. Low and steady. He knows what you're thinking about.

But you can't answer it. It only hits you now that you haven't eaten anything all day, and the pain in your stomach is only surrendering because you're eating now. So you clear your throat, giving Billy a look. “Uhm... I haven't.”

“What?” He puts his slice down, a serious face on. “Couldn't you find anything you like?”

“That's not it I... I was watching the news all day and the police did next to nothing.” Gesturing at the TV, you sigh. “And I just can't understand how those big ass vans just disappeared into the night. It's just... One of the three people who were in the hospital died. Five of those working in the kitchens died in the explosion. They found the bodies today, and I just... I just wasn't hungry...” Maybe you should just say the last part. Billy doesn't need to know how desperate you feel.

“(Y/N), you gotta eat. What would your father say if he knew–”

“Billy, I need you to stop thinking about my father.” Cutting him off, you push some of your hair back, out of your face. He has to stop doing that. You don't want to be a job, you don't want him to see you as someone he has to look after. “What? Do you think I'll give him daily reports on my routine?” Making a pause, you take another bite, now a little annoyed. When you swallow it down, you stare at Billy again. “Day one. I woke up in Billy's bed, wearing one of his shirts. He left a cute note. I spent the whole day watching the news, freaking out a little, crying a little. Them Billy came back and brought me pizza.” You make sure to sound as annoyed as you feel. “Day two...”

“Maybe you should do that.” He says, those blue eyes locked on yours. Why is he staring at you like that, so intensely? Is he doing that thing again, trying to understand you? Because he always succeeds.

“Maybe you're crazy.” Shaking your head, you focus on the pizza again, silently finishing your slice. It might be so weird for him. Billy doesn't bring girls here, and here you are, invading his private life, stealing his bed. “The bed is yours today.”

“Alright.”

“Yeah...” As you take a second slice, you remember the gala. From the moment he picked you up until right before the explosion. It was easy talking to Billy, you didn't have to think before speaking. It was... Good. Effortless. You couldn't stop smiling, and you did wish you could hang out with him more. You felt free from all the rules and regulations, finally able to be someone genuine. Not the fake version you present to people.

But now... It's weird, uncomfortable. You did expect it to change as the days go by, but it didn't.

You started to count, obviously. Day three, day four... And it only got worse, if that's even possible. He always brings something to dinner, and you eat silently on the kitchen table, only to sit on the couch for a while, as far from the other as possible, and watch TV in silence. It's like two strangers sharing a roof, and you slowly give up the idea of this being something good. It isn't. Billy doesn't want you here, that's pretty clear. And it got even more obvious after the weekend. You told him he could go out if he wanted to, but he didn't. And it was just the same. Few words were spoken, a cold distance kept. He's like someone else entirely, not the same Billy from the beach.

And on the eighth day, you had enough. So you wait for Billy to go to bed, since it's his turn, and wait an hour before tiptoeing to the phone. Amelia is the only one you can talk to, whose advice you trust. So you call the private line she keeps in her bedroom, nervously biting your lip as you wait for her to pick up.

“Hello. Who's this?”

“Ame. It's me.” You whisper, giving the hall a look before turning around, leaning against the wall. “I'm sorry to call so late but I needed to talk.”

“Of course, honey. You know you can call me whenever you need.” When you were at the house, you used to bug her even late at night when you needed help, or just to rant about something. She was always there. “What's going on?”

“Uhm... Ame, this... This isn't working. Living with Billy is... Complicated.”

“Why?” You hear something in the back, maybe a glass being put down. “I remember you were getting along just fine since the day he saved you from drowning.” She giggles. “I saw you going around with him, laughing and chatting.”

Sighing, you shake your head a little. It was different back then. You don't know how, but you know it was. “Yeah, but he just... It just...” Damn it. Of all people you know, if you had to pick someone to do this, as crazy and insane as it is, you'd pick Billy. In any other house, those mansions, you'd have to act on your best behavior, participate in those formal rites for every meal, be always polite and kind. Here, you thought it would be better. You thought you'd have fun, as you used to on those days, with funny comments and quick remarks. Now... You don't know. “Billy doesn't want me here.” You burst out, keeping your voice low.

“Why do you think that?”

“He's just... Distant. Cold.” Why does it bother you so much? The Billy you met before was the one treating you as his boss. One of the owners of one of the houses he works on. What did you think? That he'd keep the act? “I'm an inconvenience. He's just doing that because my father will pay him in the end and no, I have no idea why it bothers me so much, but I just... I thought it'd at least be nice, but it isn't so...”

“(Y/N), Billy is a guy. I'm sure he's just making sure you don't feel uncomfortable.” She speaks slow, and you start bouncing your leg nervously.

“Amelia, I don't want him to fall in love with me, ok? I just thought we'd become friends or something like that.” The words come out fast, and you're a little pissed. “Billy doesn't want me here.” You repeat.

“Why does it bother you so much?”

“Because I had a nice time with him.” You burst out, throwing your free hand in the air. “He's so different from the idiots I'm surrounded by. I don't have to fake it, I can just say the stupid things that come to my head and I never had anyone I could be myself with. And God, I was so stupid to think this would be fun, or...” Taking a deep breath, your voice fades as you collect your thoughts. Moving from the wall, you start pacing around. “I'll just look for some apartment to rent, Ame. I don't want to be–” The sentence is cut short when you see a figure standing by the end of the table. Your eyes go wide, a hand on your heart as you recognize Billy, arms crossed, his eyes on you. “Ame, I'll have to go. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Alright, honey. Try talking to Billy before making any decisions.”

“Ok. Good night.” You mumble before hanging up. Swallowing hard, you step back, leaning against the countertop. “Did you... Hear anything?” That's a stupid question, of course he did. He wouldn't be looking so pissed if he didn't. But it doesn't matter. This gotta be over soon, so you both will feel better.

“From the very beginning.” He says, tilting his head at the phone. “Heard you talking to someone and decided to check.”

“Ok.” Nodding to yourself, you look down at your feet. “I was thinking and I believe it will better if I look for some place I can rent around here. But don't worry, I won't tell my father so you'll still be paid.” As you speak, you make your way back to the couch, but Billy grabs your arm, forcing you to stop.

“So you think I don't want you here,” Billy mutters, his face lit up by the bluish light coming from the TV. He's gorgeous, so gorgeous that it's hard to say something to his face.

“That's crystal clear, Billy.” Giving your arm a pull, he let it go. “You said it yourself, you don't bring girls to your place and you were forced into having me here and I totally get that you don't like it.” Turning your back at him, you sit on the couch, eyes on the TV, but not paying any attention.

“You got it wrong.”

“I don't think so.”

“I just...” He makes a pause, so long it makes you look up at him. “I'm trying to give you some space.”

“Well, you gave me so much space it actually feels like I'm living alone.” Angrily, you move to lie down, fixing the blanket on your legs. “It'll better if I just move out.”

“Listen, I know you don't like this place.” Billy turns the TV off, and if it wasn't for the dim light coming from the street, you'd be in complete darkness. “It's tiny, your bedroom is bigger than this apartment.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Remember when the railing of your balcony was broken by a storm? I fixed it.”

You remember it. There was a huge summer storm, and a branch was ripped from a nearby tree, knocking down half of your railing. When you came back home on the next day, it was fixed. But you'd never guess it was Billy. “Thanks.”

“You don't have to thank me for doing my job.”

“Goddamn it, Billy.” Kicking the blankets away, you stand up. “Stop treating me like some rich chick! Stop putting words in my mouth and stop saying I can't thank you for doing something!” You're yelling, despite the late hour. The neighbors won't like it. “You never asked me what I think about your place so you can't possibly know if I like it or not. And yes, thank you for fixing my railing, thank you for keeping my pool clean, for cleaning the leaves, for... Hell, for sheltering me! But it's getting tiring. I thought you'd treat me like a normal girl like you did on the beach, but I get it now that it was just an act so I'll just leave.” That said, you're already in motion, not sure why. But you're unlocking the door and storming out, furious, easily finding the stairs and rushing down.

“(Y/N)!” Ignoring Billy, you don't stop, wiping some tears that escaped when you push the building doors open, the fresh night air making your breath in deeply.

You're overwhelmed. There's nothing new about the kidnappings. The criminals asked two million dollars for the first kid, but that was it. The police can't seem to get any closer to finding them, and the same goes to the many private investigators on the case. And the only good thing that came out of this shit, being with the only person on Earth with who you felt like you could be yourself, backfired. You feel stupid, deceived. Walking down the sidewalk, you roll your eyes when you hear the building doors banging, quickening your pace.

“(Y/N).”

“You wanted to give me space. Then give me some freaking space.” Your voice is cracking, which only makes you feel more like an idiot.

“Alright. I'm sorry, ok?” He raises his voice, and soon enough he's grabbing your arm. But you push him away until he let it go. “I shouldn't assume you would turn out to be like the other girls. You're not like any of the rich kids I met.”

“You don't have to do it now. You made everything very clear.”

“Would you listen?” Billy furrows his eyebrows, stepping back, a hand on his head. “I have this habit of expecting the worse, it always kept me from being caught with the guard down. But I'll admit I was wrong about you.” Avoiding his gaze, you pace around, not sure if you want to believe it. “I had a nice time with you too. That was the worst party I've ever been to, but it was good to know there's someone from their world who isn't completely rotten on the inside.”

You don't know why but the insult makes you giggle. But it's only because he's right. The fact that they're being held hostage doesn't change how some of those people are mean and rude. Their situation doesn't change who they are. And, being born into what Billy called ‘their world’, made you see the worst side of everyone. Money corrupts weak minds, you've seen it. The more they have, the more they want.

“Fine then...” Finally turning to face him, you sigh. “What now?”

Billy reaches out his hand, and you look at it, not moving yet. “First, let's get inside. You're in pajamas in the middle of the sidewalk.”

That makes you laugh, looking down and taking in the leggings and the baggy shirt you're wearing which leaves one of your shoulders exposed. “My mother would literally squeal if she saw me now.”

“She doesn't have to know.” That makes you smile even more, and you feel like you just got a glimpse of the Billy you were with at the beach. So you take his hand, breathing in, and letting him guide you back inside.

@multific @dontxfearxthereaper @nope-thanks @nikkixostan @shinydixon @clockworkballerina @infinitelycharmed23

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #billy imagine #billy hargrove imagine #imagine billy hargrove #billy hargrove #billy stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #imagine stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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heresathreebee · 3 years

Text

Dirty Water

Benny 'Borracho' Magalon x Robyn Banks (Black!OC)

Summary: Robb met a couple of shady characters calling themselves cops. Well it just so happens they are, and they're worse than she first thought.

Masterlist

Word count: 2.5k words

Rating/Warning(s): +16 Mature | kidnapping, mild torture, tied up, wanna be clear: IRL I do not condone hooking up with a person who kidnapped you or was complicit in kidnapping you, it just don't work out like that in reality

AN: so basically I'm gonna write and post this in whatever order I please, then go back and figure it out later. Since my brain has jumped back on the Pascal bandwagon, it's hard to focus outside of his body of work but I'm still coming back to this story with relative ease.

Just when she'd started to warm up again, a another shower of ice cold mop water was pitched over her head. Robyn sputtered and coughed, trying not to swallow the suds in her mouth or let them see her cry to keep the dirt out of her eyes. From the shadows that danced beyond her eyelids, she could tell the alleged cop who called himself Nick was crouching in front of her.

"Last chance, sweetheart," the dirty cop said. "Tell me how you know Tony D'Onofrio."

Fuck.

Seven years ago, two federal agents walked in on officer Robyn Banks being sentenced to traffic duty. She didn't mind– she was fed up with the secrets her colleagues were forcing her to keep anyways. Maybe stepping down could help her clear her head, maybe give her time to compartmentalize those events and feelings. Only now could she say that the rest of her career was already out of her hands.

"Those agents on that file? They approached me about D'Onofrio. Said he was my moby dick. Made a big deal about 'justice' and 'law and order' and 'the sanctity of the badge." Robyn spit more mop water onto the floor and continued, "I told them I didn't know what the fuck it had to do with me and they just sorta looked at each other."

The blond man– Nick called him Z, she thinks– crossed his arms. "Quit jerkin us around, Banks, get to the fucking point."

Nick held up a hand. "Easy, tiger. I asked for a story and that's what I'm hearing. Keep going, Robbie."

Robyn scowled on the inside. "They told me he was my father. More like a sperm donor than anything, he probably didn't even know I was alive."

"Now that is interesting," Nick purred.

He cut the zip tie binding her arm to the rolly chair and handed her a towelette to wipe her eyes. She dared not reach for the tie on her other arm, lest her captors think she's pulling a move to escape. Instead she dabbed the sweat and mop water that soaked into the skin of her neck and face to pause and think about her next words.

"That was the basis of the deal. I join their investigation undercover, see if I can get somewhere with my connection, and help them put one of the biggest crime bosses on this side of the coast away for good. In exchange, I get to call the shots, they'd put in a good word with my CO and elevate me to detective status instead of beat cop."

"Thought you liked being a beat cop," the one in the silk flamingo shirt said.

"Apparently nobody believes that."

"So," Nick steepled his fingers beneath his aquiline nose in thought, "your end of the deal wasn't even your idea? How does that work?"

"Sounds like she got something else out of it," the bald man in the white polo accused.

Robyn glared at him, but she didn't contradict him. If she wanted to be listened to, she needed to stay calm. Stay calm, stay alive. Go home with the minimal amount of PTSD.

"Do you want me to tell you what happened or not?" When nobody raised any more objections, she continued. "I agreed to their terms. Next I know, I'm climbing the criminal ladder, dropping bread crumbs about my parentage, two years goes by, yada yada yada, and then bam. I have a meeting with the heir apparent to the Italian mafia.

"At that meeting I told Tony D'Onofrio he knew my mother and that I knew they had been dating around the time I was born–"

"Conceived–"

"Yeah that– he stared at me for so long I forgot how to breathe and then… he… believed me."

A pin dropped somewhere in the empty parking garage. A dog barked wildly a mile away but could still be heard in the silence that followed. Robyn still couldn't believe he'd bought it either.

"He just… believed you," Nick said skeptically.

Robyn could do nothing but shrug. "I never got the details, I couldn't ask my mom about it and Tony never gave me any indication that he knew about me before that meeting. He just asked me what I wanted and did it."

Nick dragged his eyes over her form, shivering and glistening, and then-- "what did you ask him?"

Robyn felt her eyes gloss over as she tried to remember what mysterious force compelled her to say the exact right words. "I told him all I wanted was for him to know, to see him with my own eyes and know he was real. I said I didn't need any favors or special treatment. I just needed some closure."

That was all. And the agents had been fucking furious with her. They had accused her of using them, of being a traitor and a spy for D'Onofrio or a mastermind cat-woman type villain and all manner of other terrible things. They were ready to pull the plug on the whole operation when Tony had offered her a better job. A job where she would come face- to- face with every schmoe on Tony's payroll.

"Tony offered me a job 'running errands.' Not quite in his inner circle but higher in his ranks than I had any business being," Robyn said. "Most of the people doing these jobs were kids, easy to get around the city undetected and reliable. Now he knew I wasn't a kid but I guess he wanted to see more from me, put his best eyes on me to see if I was legit."

Nick nodded and stood up (his knees popping like broken branches). He walked over to Murphy in the flamingo shirt and passed a few inaudible words between them. Robyn wasn't skilled in the art of lip reading, and failed to catch anything from Murphy except the word 'pointless.' It rubbed her the wrong way, sending a spark of fear through her that quickly dulled back into the numbness of being helplessly bound to a chair. She needed to finish this soon before she completely cracked.

Nick returned to her side, chasing some pepto bismol with a flask of what smelled like tequila in it. "That's a very sweet story, Robbie, really it is. But… what I wanna know is why you're not in this file."

"That's not what you asked me," she griped, then backpedaled into, "I'm trying to tell you why I'm not in the file. But in order to tell you that, I have to tell you what was left out of the file first. I'm getting to the point, I just… there's a lot of shit to sift through."

Nick nodded like a patient father (yeah, right). "Just the good parts then."

"Yeah," she nodded quickly, "just the good parts..."

"The good parts, uhm. Well he did learn to trust me. I barely had to do anything just… let him try to kindle a relationship between us. I started calling him dad at his request, nobody bothered me or questioned me after that and I didn't abuse it, expect on the downlow giving info to the feds. He liked that about me– he liked me. We'd talk about my mom and he'd let his guard slip, started taking me to his meetings and asking me to deliver his important paperwork."

"I let him think I was with him and documented everything I could for six more years." In truth, she had had some doubts. About putting him away and the vacuum of power it would create, about the dichotomy of good versus evil, about her career. In that last year, she had actually warmed to the idea of becoming a detective and getting to do work with her own moral backbone and not someone else's. "We made the arrest January 19th and put him away for a dime."

Nick leaned so far forward in his chair Rob had to lean back. "This is the part where you wrap it up, sweetcheeks."

Robyn gulped. "Gomer and Valentine pushed me out. They'd been acting really strange at the end, wearing these shit eating grins and looking at each other, and then they iced me out. Had me fired on the grounds that I was too close to the perp, used a fucking Christmas photo for evidence. There went the Italian mob's heir and seven years of hardwork, and I wouldn't even be mentioned by name in the case file. No testimony, no credit, just a dishonorable discharge and dumped on my ass in the streets."

"Wow." Nick rubbed a hand down his face like he was the exhausted one. "That's quite the story, princess."

He looked at each of his mates, every face stonier than the last. Especially the silent one's, the latino guy. Then he looked back at Robyn and smiled with a lot of teeth.

"I do have some questions though, if you'll let me." Sure like I have a choice. "Now it wasn't public knowledge you were in on the investigation, but I find it hard to believe your dad's lackeys didn't know it was you who turned him in. And what I find even harder to believe is that they'd let you live for it."

Robyn said nothing. There was a part of her that didn't quite grasp it either. When she had arrested him, when she'd slapped the cuffs on him herself and read him his Miranda rights, after the shock of her betrayal wore off, Tony had congratulated her.

"I'm proud of you, kid. You may be a narc but at least you got your head straight. You got guts, kid."

As far as she understood it, his last order as the leader of the mafia was not to harm her in any way. Nobody bothered her. They still knew her face on the streets, sent glares her way but never touched her. One of his underlings had come to her place and suggested she skip town permanently just to be safe. It was not a courtesy she ever expected from anyone let alone a man with a reputation for high profile robbery and murder.

She didn't know what to expect. "I guess he really did love me." And Nick left it at that.

Robyn was unbound, blindfolded, and dumped right back onto the street those so called cops had snatched her from. Her legs shook as she walked the last block to her place, utterly miserable and in desperate need of some sleep. Maybe tomorrow she could figure out what the fuck her life had come to. She showered (and cried) and picked up the half drunk beer from her fridge and brought it out on her front steps, taking a sip of the flat beverage and wishing it was something stronger.

People passed below her on the streets, never once looking up. The traffic never disappeared but it did lull this time of night. She didn't mean to– barely noticed she was doing it– but she found a pack of cigarettes in her overcoat and lit one up.

"Next time," she promised herself. I'll try to quit next time.

Just as she was beginning to ease the tension that had been weighing on her all night, a man climbed the steps to her building and pointedly slowed down to a stop a few feet away from her. She chanced a glare at him and found him no stranger which was somehow infinitely worse.

"Fuck off," her nerves got the better of her, "I told you everything, can't I at least get some sleep first?!"

The man lifted his hands in defense, carrying a bottle in a brown bag in one of them. He was, well, he was the handsome one. The Cuban with the neck tattoo and broad shoulders. His eyes seemed a lot softer now Despite the dark setting.

"Swear on my life, I'm not here for Nick." He took a single step up, waiting to see how she'd react, and when she didn't run, he took another and set the covered bottle down next to her before backing off. Still skeptical, Robyn carefully unwrapped the thing, revealing an expensive looking wine label. Dark red. "It's an apology," he explained with his hands in his pockets, "Nick thinks he's this big, clever actor but he can be a real bully when he drinks."

Robyn gave him the 'do I look like an idiot' eyebrow and he had the decency to look at his feet. "We could really use your help with this, Banks. Nick forgot to mention the part where Tony was put on parole for good behavior. He'll be out tomorrow."

"He what." That's just the thing isn't it? The case that ended her career permanently and he just got to walk off after only serving two years of his sentence. That was the real crime here. Robyn gritted her teeth, gripped the neck of the bottle and squeezed. She started shaking it like it was her criminal father, or the weasel federal agents who took her credit, or the dirty cops who kidnapped her tonight.

Borracho looked concerned. "Do you need a corkscrew or– "

Robyn shrugged off her jacket and looked him dead in the eye as she wrapped it around the base of the bottle and gently banged it on the porch step until the cork exploded into the air (along with a third of the bottle's contents but whatever). Borracho raised a hand to protect his face from the spray, and turned away to hide a silly grin.

"Nevermind," he said, shaking the excess drink off his hand. "Listen, if he calls you about anything, please let us know."

He pointed to the bag, which had a phone number on it. "Don't let your work be in vain."

"You try that line on everybody?" Rob was feeling a little facetious in the face of mercy, over tired from the revelations, and pissed off by these fucking pigs. "Your good cop, bad cop routine needs some balance. Did you know I was kidnapped today? Now this wine is a start but you'd better step it up, good cop."

He started to walk away but she called out, "I got Nick, Z, and Murphy. Clocked 'Gus' by the name written on his underwear. Which one are you?"

"Benny," he threw back, and disappeared into the nighttime traffic.

"Benny," Rob scoffed. "Cute ass."

Robb drank the equivalent of two glasses, then passed out from exhaustion. She slept dreamlessly and tried to forget last night had ever happened. Benny, in the meantime, returned to the office where his crew was huddled around a phone receiver.

"Don't appreciate you throwing me under the bus, B," Nick growled from his seat.

"Shup up and drink this," Benny pushed the glass of raw eggs closer to his boss' hand, a so called 'hangover cure'. Nick shrunk back a little.

"Told you she'd be sweet on him," Z elbowed Murphy in the ribs and ignored his protesting 'um actually I said that.'

"Wouldn't call her sweet," Benny said, grunting as he took up residence at his own desk. "She looked like a feral cat."

Nick laughed. "Yeah well don't go getting mixed up with that pussy, B, we've got work to do."

It was gonna be another long night for everybody.

#three bees writing #god it's been so long #i don't know what to call this series #benny borracho #benny borracho x oc

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the-crows-typist · 4 years

Note

Hello, Lemilia! How are you? Since you'll be closing your requests today, I'm going to send in one more request and give all of the Diasomnia boys their share of platonic affection. So, I would like to request platonic Sebek x gnMC headcanons with the prompt word- training/sparing (by this I mean that the MC knows a style not found in T. W. like Capoeira for example & they agreed to teach each other bits of their fighting styles for fun). Have a nice day & good luck! - Kat

Oh, Capoeira is such an interesting martial arts style! I just hope I wrote the movements correctly here as I, myself, am not an expert in the craft. If there are any corrections that need to be made, please do tell me immediately!

Let Your Dreams Come Alive

“Please teach me all that you can!”

The sword had always been Sebek’s go-to in combat related encounters. It was easy to carry around and even easier drawing it out to protect the heir apparent to the Valley of Thorns. The strong stances, the wind guiding slices and strong jabs built him to the person he became now.

An esteemed guard of the Prince and Commander Vanrouge’s second star pupil.

But in his line of duty, he was taught that the sword is not the only weapon to depend on. Worse comes to worse, the body is the only weapon you can depend on.

He learned this the hard way during one of his shifts, when an assassin had knocked his sword of out his hands and he had nothing to protect him from the oncoming attack.

Until his friend, his classmate, his fellow guard-at-arms came to his rescue, all without a weapon to help them.

The movements you made, the quick use of your legs, the fluidity of your body as if you were dancing, it was nothing like he’s ever seen before. The last kick send the assassin to the wall and the prefect on the flood, legs spread and ready to attack should their opponent get back up.

When you pulled Sebek up, he was at awe, and just like when they were still in school they myriad of questions left his lips. “What move set was that? How are you so nimble? Those spinning kicks! How are you able to move so fast?”

You laughed at his eagerness, even commenting how he hasn’t changed over the years and still as vibrant as he was in their first year in highs school.

“This style is not from here but from my own world.” You began. “Developed by slaves in a country they were put into. Very heavy stuff.” Your eyes were dark for a moment, the origin of a style was heavy, something Sebek understood.

“I almost thought you were dancing.” You nodded their head at this, smiling brightly “It’s a martial arts style that combines dance, acrobatics, kicking, and walking on hands…It’s a mix of everything, really.”

“Teach me.”

The first few days of the training was harsh on Sebek’s body, he wasn’t very flexible to begin with and the exercises were enough to get him out of breath. “If you can’t handle it, we can stop.” The prefect said, pulling Sebek up from the training mat.

“No.” He says, swaying a bit. “I want to learn. Teach me all that you can.”

At the end of the day, Sebek was exhausted and barely able to move. His friends, his classmate had to pull him up with the help of Lilia. He teased him all the way to his room until he was settled into bed.

“I think you went too far for your first day.” You say, letting him get settled on his bed and wiping his forehead with his arm. “It’s a tough style and requires a lot of movement but you don’t need to push yourself. Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all.”

“Rome?”

“It’s a saying.” You took a towel and planted it on his face, smiling when he made a sound beneath the damp cloth. “It means great things take time to create, to build. When I was still learning, I could barely lift my feet high enough, I couldn’t spin properly…Heck, I couldn’t even do a simple hand stand, let alone walk on my hands.”

“You don’t become an expert at things over night, things take time.” You patted his knee and stood up, getting some water for him to drink as he pushed himself off his bed. “I was just as frustrated as you when I was still learning but…It’s thanks to my teachers that I learned to be patient. I don’t consider myself a professional but…” You hand him the glass. “It’s thanks to them that I know about it.”

Sebek drank from the cup. “They must be very proud of the craft.”

“They are. It’s part of their identity. I’m happy that somehow, I was able to share their knowledge to a different world. I’ll be sure to tell them when I find a way back home.” You raised a their fist to Sebek.

Here’s to the start of your training, Sebek.”

The both of you bumped your fists together.

“I’ll do my best, teacher.”

#works from the typewriter #twsited wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt x gender neutral reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #twst sebek #sebek headcanons #platonic x reader

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rpmemesbyarat · 3 years

Conversation

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 1 "Pilot" & Ep 2 "Hell Week"(Note: Offensive content, use at own discretion)

Something really bad happened.

Did you just get your period all over yourself?

This isn't my blood.

Who told you you could have a baby here tonight?

I'm sure I can walk if I can just get some Gatorade.

I don't care if you can walk.

How are we supposed to get you to the front door without everyone seeing you all gross and postpartum?

No one wants to see that at a party.

This is super embarrassing.

I didn't even know I was pregnant.

You guys, they're playing "Waterfalls."

Is that a baby? Amazing.

I am not missing "Waterfalls" for this. "Waterfalls" is my jam.

Give the baby some mojito to quiet it down.

How do you know she's dead?

These are my minions. I don't know their names. I don't want to know their names.

I have a colonic at 10

Life is a class system.

Oh, still a lot of puke to scrub.

Yeah, you have an amazing skill at telling people what they need to hear.

I'm sorry. Did I ask you to pull down my panties and blow a compliment up my butt?

I hate sororities, and I hate you.

First of all, I'm not a lesbian.

You see, out in the real world, people just don't talk that way to other people. It's not normal.

Well, that sure sounds suspicious.

No one forced that goat to get as drunk as it got.

Historically, short people are sneaky backstabbers, like Napoleon or Paul Shaffer.

I could actually handle that you're built like a Thai ladyboy, but what I can't stand is that you think you're my heir apparent.

Don't you want me to spray-tan you?

I would honestly rather not have you around.

The police still can't figure out who filled that tank with hydrochloric acid.

It's good enough for me, and the D.A., who, last I heard, considers the case closed.

What is that skirt?

Your organization might want to find a lawyer.

I'm a pretty smart cookie.

I would not get personal with me, sweetheart.

I don't fight fair.

I am sentimental.

Look, girls are vicious, okay?

I don't have any of my own memories.

Just like we planned. Three-second silent hug, and then you leave.

Ooh, somebody call CSI, because there was a murder scene in that bathroom.

Someone puked in the sink and I'm pretty sure I saw an actual ringworm climbing up the wall. I'm not afraid of anything, but that bathroom scared the crap out of me.

This is gonna be a year of infinite possibilities.

Hold this. It's too heavy.

You didn't knock!

Look at them. They're the dregs of society.

Each one of these gashes is worse than the next.

She smells like hot dog water, and probably sprained her neck giving blumpkins down at the local bowling alley.

Look, I'm not saying that all heterosexual sex is rape. I'm saying all heterosexual sex is gross, and that deep down, every woman knows this.

All that girl's after is a whole lot of bikini burger.

Hey, girl, can I just ask you, what's up with your outfit?

God knows what they're talking about, basic bitches.

What fresh hell is this?

I need you to stay popular, 'cause if you want to stay at the top of the list of the pieces of ass I'm getting, there's criteria. And the criteria is you got to be popular.

Okay, I'm gonna stop you right there, because I'm getting really pissed off.

Stop fake crying.

Anyone you dated would be popular. I mean, they would be popular because they're dating you.

My ego, it's super strong, ok, but it's not strong enough that I can just go around dating garbage people.

Like, yes, I could find a random girl who wasn't popular, and, yes, if I started dating her she would then become popular.

But you said you loved me.

I do sort of love you.

I would love you a lot more if other people loved you, too.

Okay, I need you to leave because you're bumming me out

We're just trying to have a nice day hitting golf balls at hippies.

Pretty girls, like you and me.

That's why I'm gonna burn your face off.

Ugh! You burned the milk!

Next time, I get you fired, or worse.

Actually, I just want a regular coffee. Those white girl pumpkin spice lattes annoy me.

I like to think of myself, uh, as an investigative reporter.

I had to get a restraining order.

I tend to get a bit passionate about things.

Look, you intentionally led me on.

You kept acting like you liked me just so you could humiliate me.

Enter, ye who dare.

I love a creepy collage.

It's about kicking the living crap out of someone when they disrespect you.

I was just in your room, where I noticed you have a sizeable shrine with evil burning candles, photos of me with my face scratched out and pairs of my stolen panties.

How about I just drown you in it?

Well, of course she's dead! You just burned her face off!

You don't die from getting your face burned off.

There's a dead woman in your kitchen.

I'm going to the authorities.

That's not how I saw it. And my witnesses agree.

You're an awful person.

Who wants cocktails?

How did my life turn into this?

Have you seen the way girls dress on this campus?

I'm sitting in the same office I used to throw bricks into.

You're awful in bed. Are you aware?

I'm gonna take a pair of your panties.

I'm gonna barf on your face unless you get out of here.

Try to figure out who gave you such disgusting mommy issues.

You loaded a dead body into a freezer.

What are you proposing?

I want to help you with your exposé, secretly feed you info.

You need eyes on the inside.

I don't know what to do with the body.

Are you saying dead bodies don't turn you on?

You are so lame, you know that?

God, I love all that death stuff.

Show me the body.

Show me the dead body.

This blood oath will ensure solidarity among us. We are all related now.

I just Googled "blood oath" and this is what came up.

What does this oath even mean?

I just need you all to not say anything about what happened, and I figured a blood oath was cheaper than buying you all presents.

Wait, what about STDs?

Idiot, you don't get STDs from blood oaths.

You get STDs from dirty toilet seats and drinking the water in Mexico.

Um, "STD" stands for "sexually transmitted disease," which means that it's transmitted sexually.

When were you in Mexico?

You know what, forget the blood oath.

I can't stay silent!

I'm calling my mom, and I'm going home.

Okay, Pissy Spacek, you and I have a few differences we need to iron out.

I want you to be one of my minions.

It's the gateway to the top of the heap.

You put on a good front, but you're miserable.

Don't you think any of that has anything to do with the fact that you've created an atmosphere based solely on negativity and raw ambition?

Can we talk for real for a second, please?

I mean, you're so confident without being mean. What antidepressants are you on?

Don't you see that all that's happened isn't a crisis? It's an opportunity.

Yeah, no, I tried. See, I really tried. But all of this flowery, peace-on-Earth crap, it makes me want to puke.

You haven't even seen half of what I'm capable of!

Totally spit in your coffee, bitch.

I don't mean to be a contrarian, but I'm enjoying this.

Is that killer noises or am I hallucinating?

I'm gonna ask one more time, will you speak up?

What can you tell us about the murder?

There's an exodus right now.

The risks are real, but we need to close ranks.

I don't feel comfortable with a man protecting me. It's representative of the patriarchal, post-colonial culture that encourages violence against women.

We buy a pig and feed it the body. Pigs will eat anything.

Don't go skating on those poop lagoons, because if you fall in, you'll drown in the poop and come springtime, there'll be nothing left of your body.

Here's what you should do. Pulverize her teeth, burn off her fingerprints, and disfigure her face. Once her body is unrecognizable, we can create an incision on her inner thigh and drain out all of her bodily fluids. That'll give us more time to deconstruct the body.

Truly grinding down a body takes a lot of work. You need a really good food processor, and you run the risk of fouling the plumbing, which is why you should only do it if you know how to clear out meat and bones from a drain pipe.

I'm willing to help in any way possible.

You're obviously a psychopath and those ideas are insane!

Why are you trying to terrify us?

Can I call you Mom?

I feel so loved and protected by all of you.

Actually, it's a new pop culture trend where young women desperately in need of role models call other girls they look up to Mom.

I thought you'd be cool with it.

I mean, I did just give you several ways to dispose of a body.

Okay, fine. Just stop talking.

You are so friggin' creepy!

Someone just mowed off a deaf girl's head in our backyard.

I mean, as you can see, I'm not licensed to carry a sidearm.

Wait, so you don't have a gun?

I have pepper spray. And I have a walkie talkie that I can use to call the police, who do have guns.

What good are you?

Get the hell out of there. Run away, real fast.

Now, I would give you my number, but my cell phone is off right now.

If you want the place clean, maybe you shouldn't have burned the maid's face off.

Don't you wonder what's in there?

People have been whispering about that house for years, that it's haunted, that something really bad happened. I mean, there's no way there isn't some real-life story behind it, right?

I'm gonna have to break in.

I mean, I don't think anyone's gonna get killed in the 30 minutes we make out, right?

Can you stop talking?

You're kind of ruining whatever was good about it.

Please try to understand the situation I'm in.

I don't give a rat's ass about your job.

You know, I find good parenting incredibly attractive.

You're a snoopy little bugger.

Whose bloody clothes are those?

Supposedly, it was a super fun party.

We're all gonna pay for this.

I think it's all crap. Just a myth.

What happened to the baby?

Sometimes I picture myself like Derek Jeter, you know?

I'm gonna choke you out.

There's a serial killer on the loose.

Please don't say you want to choke me.

I'd love having sex with your corpse.

I'm sorry. This isn't working for me.

Well, I sort of am your boyfriend, and I'm protecting you by having sex with you.

No! I don't need a man to protect me.

How could I have wasted this much time?

Is my self-esteem really that low?

I'm sorry. I think we need to take a break.

I need you to leave right now!

You know, it would really help me feel better if I could just crawl into bed with you for a few minutes.

Are you gonna touch my wiener, or you gonna leave my wiener alone?

I'll leave your wiener alone.

Where are your hands?

He has a huge boner!

Why don't you go in there and ogle his big old boner?

Okay, uh, first of all, I'm not gonna go ogle his big old boner, because I'm not gay.

Look, I'm sorry everybody wants to have sex with me. Okay? I can't help that.

I'm hot. Everybody wants to get with this. Women, men, animals in the zoo, plants, probably.

You're gonna have to go right now, 'cause I am breaking up with you.

Excuse me, I broke up with you!

I regretted what I said, and I just wanted to come here and tell you that I am so sorry.

Well, I accept your apology. And now I'm breaking up with you.

Do you know why I'm breaking up with you?

You can't deal with how hot I am.

Sorry, I just broke up with you.

Can you please put some clothes on?

Um, they said, uh, I shouldn't be alone, you know, in case I fall asleep and die.

Can I just get you a robe or something though?

So you're saying I'm the killer?

Okay, this isn't about me thinking you're boyfriend material.

God, I was so gonna go to third base with you tonight, too.

What if we stapled their earlobes?

Private like the parts on a man you like putting in your mouth?

I want to publicly come out as gay on my own.

I mean, you guys have to accept everybody, right?

I actually think that's illegal.

I will come after you, do you understand that? I will destroy you.

I trust you'll consider my offer.

Name one bad thing that ever happened at a Best Buy parking lot.

You're just, like, super attractive.

Um, well, I was trying to be inconspicuous.

It's better than losing your life.

I have a thing for playlists.

Someone's got a poo belly.

Sweet Yeezus, I don't even know where to begin with you.

Bitch, I'm about to smack you so hard, your tampon's gonna pop out.

I heard screaming.

So you think the serial killer is still up there?

Upstairs to get the killer before he gets away!

You just said that you think the killer is up there, and that's where you want to go?

This is freakin' terrifying!

The killer is in the house! You hear me?

I need my damn inhaler.

What, am I supposed to be scared?

Don't even come out. We plan on getting drunk, and I don't want your bad attitude ruining it.

We're headed down to White Stallion to pick up some sluts, baby!

Yes, okay, I burned her slightly, but stop saying that I killed her.

That was a tragic accident.

I am a kind and devoted and loving friend to all.

I'm not some crazed psychopath.

Maybe you're the killer.

I will not be put on trial.

The truth is we don't know who the killer is, and, yes, I suppose it could be someone in this room.

You want to go first?

I banged, like, 50 chicks.

What took you so long?

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay memes #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #scream queens

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rogue-durin-16 · 4 years

Text

THE HEIR'S CURSE (Part I/?)

Request: I have this idea of the reader being a princess and having to marry fili cuz hes the heir and she likes him but she ends up falling for his brother? Maybe with some angst? You can choose the end 😆

Pairing: Fíli x Reader, eventually Kíli x Reader

Genre: mainly angst w/ fluffy moments

Tags:

Requested by: @crispykittywitch

The heir's curse: ———

Permanent taglist: @queenofmankind @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: none atm, maybe some typos

A/N: Sorry for the delay I was having an existential crisis. I'm trying to put the story together, so this first part is merely introductive to the actual plot, that's why is short and kinda lacking of action OOF ANYWAY enjoy, and send me an ask if you wanna be tagged in this. Friendly reminder that the requests are open <3

Part II

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"She's beautiful." my brother Kíli, tilting his head to my side, muttered, his eyes never leaving the girl that walked towards us.

"She is, indeed." I replied, equally dumbfounded.

"This is Y/n, Princess of the kingdom of Belegost." Y/n bowed to us with a genuine smile on her face, and we did the same to her "My lady, these are prince Fíli, Heir of the throne of Erebor, and prince Kíli."

"At your service." we both spoke, right after I stepped to her to kiss her hand. "I've heard legends of your beauty, but none make you justice." And it was true.

Y/n, despite being a dwarf, descended directly from the elves of Caras Galadhon. She was an actual miracle of our time, and it had been said to me that possessed a beauty never seen in middle earth.

"You don't look so bad yourself." she smoothly replied. "As my father used to say, though, true beauty lays inside of oneself."

"My brother has a heart of gold." Kíli assured her. "I'm sure you'll get to see it sooner rather than later." I halfsmiled at my brother's words. "or maybe later rather than sooner, he's a little thick, and a little slow."

"Kíli." I called him, turning to throw daggers at him with my eyes.

"What?" he then grinned at Y/n, "It's only the truth." who was now chuckling, with a playful look on his gaze.

"My lord, I will now take the Princess to her stances."

"Do not," I ordered, taking a couple more steps to be before her. "I'll take her myself." I extended my hand for her to take.

"How chivalrous." She teased walking besides me. "are you trying to make a good impression?"

"Maybe." I tended her a hand the help her down the stairs. "Is it working?"

She took my hand with a grin and slightly pulled up her dress in order not to step on it. "Maybe."

KÍLI'S P. O. V.

As soon as they had walked away from the stance, my smile faded and an uneasy frown appeared in my face.

I had seen her at the gates. We ran into each other, but she was wearing a traveling cloak and I didn't connect the dots.

"Apologies m'lady." I quickly spoke, steadying her with both my hands so she wouldn't fall. "I was in a hurry."

"It's alright, I was distracted." it was only then, when she took off the hood, that I was left speechless. "Cat has got your tongue?" She teased with a grin as I let go her forearms.

"Your beauty took all words away from me." I replied as fast as I could.

"Not all, apparently." she responded. "Would you mind pointing me the direction to the place where I shall wait for the king?"

"Thorin's not here, but someone will receive you in the throne's hall— Ori!" I made a sign and my friend came to us. "I would take you there myself, but as I said, I am in a hurry."

"Thank you anyway."

I felt the smile growing in my face. "My pleasure."

'She's beautiful', I had said, but what meant was 'she's too beautiful'.

I knew I was damned the moment she smiled at me, I just didn't know how damned I was— not yet, at least.

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

READER'S P. O. V.

"Ouch!" I flinched when the needle fixing the side of my dress stung my skin.

Having to stand on a velvet footstool with my arms over my head for over half an hour was already uncomfortable and exhausting enough, needless to say I wasn't in the mood for a stray needle to pierce my skin.

"Apologies, m'lady." the servant muttered, retrieving the needle and the thread and starting again.

"Just get over with it already." I groaned in desperation. "Is this even necessary?"

"Of course! you must look perfect tonight."

"I think she already looks perfect." both our heads turned to the door in order to see a fancy dressed Fíli standing there. "Cease tormenting the princess already."

The servant nodded and stopped whatever sewing had been attempting to do on the side of the dress. "my knight in shining armor." I offered him a relieved smile and he responded with a chuckle. "what are you doing here?"

"My garments needed a retouch." A seamstress chasing him prompted Fíli to move into the room and lift his arms, and so he did. "And I heard that beautiful voice of yours from the other side of the room, so I had to come."

"Smooth." I commented, receiving a proud shrug in exchange.

"I apologize for tonight." the frown in my face let him know he had to explain further. "You've just arrived from a long journey, I doubt you're in the mood for a party."

"I won't lie to you," I pursed my lips in a thin line and gave him an apologetic smile. "attending to a dwarvish celebration is the last thing I wish for."

"And what does the princess wish for?"

"Sleep?" we both chuckled. "And maybe some time alone with my intended. I'd like to get to know him."

He nodded with the ghost of a smile twitching the corners of his lips. "I'll make sure you can escape the party as soon as possible." he assured me, finally lowering his arms. "If I can, I'll walk you to your chambers. We can take the long way and chat for a while." his eyes were hopeful, and his half smile sincere.

"That'd make the party worth it." he nodded, the half smile mutating into a beam.

"Brother," Kíli rushed into the room, stalking straight to his brother. "Thorin is back, he requested—" due to his focus on the commended task, he almost missed me.

KÍLI'S P. O. V.

The corner of my eye first caught the glittering silver of her dress, which led my gaze to acknowledge her form.

There she stood, over the stool; her long gown majestically fell past her feet and gave her an even more divine aura.

I wouldn't have noticed that my jaw had dropped if not for my brother, digging his elbow in my ribs.

"Stop staring at my intended." he jokingly scolded me. "are you planning on stealing her from me?" he wiggled his brows at me and Y/n laughed.

"Pffft no!" Y/n snorted behind me and Fíli gave us a smug grin.

"So?"

"Yeah, Thorin." I cleared my throat, fighting to tear my eyes away from her. "he wants to see you. It's important."

"Did he say what it was about?" I shook my head no and my brother sighed, signaling the servants to stop working on his regal clothing. "I must go now." he spoke to Y/n with apologetic eyes.

She nodded and my brother walked past me, making his way to where Thorin would be waiting for him.

"Heir duties?"

Y/n words caught me off hand, and at first I could only nod with my eyes way too open. "It seemed like it."

"Must be exhausting— would you lend me a hand?" One hand fisted her dress and lifted it up, the other was now extended towards me.

I eagerly nodded and stepped to her, "It must be," taking her hand in mine and holding her forearm in order to offer her some extra support. "though I wouldn't know."

"Me neither, thank Mahal." she carefully let the gown's end down on the floor and gave me brief, playful grin. "Being the younger sibling has its advantages, doesn't it?"

Of course, she was the youngest of Three siblings, how could I forget?

I looked away with a knowing chuckle, just for my eyes to return to her shortly after. "It certainly does, my lady."

"Don't call me 'my lady' as if I was above you."

"You kind of are." I replied with my eyebrows raised and one of the corners of my lips lifted.

"No I'm not!" her voice sounded outraged, but in a theatrical way.

"As you wish," I subtly bowed. "my lady."

She shook her head, letting out a soft laughter. "You're already insufferable."

"But I'm making you laugh." her eyes rolled, a smile pulling at her lips again. "You'll come to put up with me."

"You will be at the party, I hope?" I nodded, a bit taken aback by her question. "Great, because I feel like your brother will have more Heir duties to attend, and I don't wanna be alone."

"I'll keep your company." I involuntarily winked at her, triggering her eyes to part from me for a second, a timid smile making its way to her gaze. "May I tell my brother to pick you up tonight?"

"That would be nice, yes."

"Then you must excuse me." she gave me a quick nod and bowed to me. I mimicked her actions and left to go and tell my brother.

I think I secretly wished for him to tell me he could not pick her up, but I would never admit it out loud.

Nor would Y/n, who, to my ignorance, deep down, wished for it too.

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