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#modern royalty au
crazyunsexycool · 2 months
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You should see me in a crown
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Coming soon… series taglist is open just comment. must be 18+ minors DNI
Prince!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Modern royalty AU
You were a princess.
At least that’s what your father had been telling you since the day you were born. In reality you lived in a two story house with your parents in a random neighborhood. It didn’t stop them from giving you everything you could ever want or need. From piano to dance classes, tea parties and dresses. When you grew up you were determined to go to law school and you did with their support. The one thing they never talked about was their homeland or your father’s family. They taught you all about traditions but whenever the subject was brought up they would quickly shut it down. So it wasn’t a surprise when you planned a vacation with your best friend that would take you to a few countries in Europe, including their homeland. You only wanted to have a life changing experience.
And you would.
James Buchanan Barnes was the crowned prince of his home country. He was next in line to become king. Every day that passed was a reminder of it. His parents’ words echoed in his head constantly. He needed to settle down and get married, start a family. All in the name of the crown. Bucky was more than ok doing that, he just wanted to do it with someone he loved. Yet love was the one thing royalty rarely found. His reputation of being a playboy didn’t help when it came time to settle down either. It came as no surprise that his parents became matchmakers.
Two worlds are turned completely upside down. Bucky wants a chance to find love. You desperately seek to connect to your roots. Hearts are broken and truths are revealed.
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holylulusworld · 8 months
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Windfall
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Summary: You are the last unmarried lady. A spinster.
Pairing: Royal!Stucky x Royal!Reader
Warnings: 30+ reader, modern royal au, old fashioned society when it comes to the age of unmarried women (kinda), polyamorous, throuple marriages are allowed in this world, mentions of rejection, the reader is a loner, bitchy ladies, established mlm relationship,
Square filled for @allcapsbingo: B5: Loneliness
Words: 940+
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The ladies sneer when you pass them by. You don’t spare them a glance, aware that they do not like you.
People always fear what they do not understand. Like a woman who wants more in life than being her husband's arm candy.
“I don’t know why she holds her head high like that. She’s the last unmarried daughter. Even her younger sibling and almost every cousin are engaged to a gentleman. The last one will be married soon and the poor soul not getting the chance to marry one of the younger ones will settle for the windfall.”
The other women giggle at Lady Dorothy’s words. “You’re right. No one wants the old spinster. A man wants a young woman, a beautiful innocent blossom. Not a withering rose.”
You don’t take their words to heart. They are not wrong. All the gentlemen roaming your parents' house only came for your sister or the cousins your father took in after their parents passed away.
“Lady Y/N,” you sigh when Lady Sharon makes her way toward you. At least she’s kind enough to talk to you in public. “There you are!”
“My dear,” Lord Loki, Sharon’s husband greets you. He bows and presses a chaste kiss to your hand. He’s one of the few men seeing you as more than an old spinster. Loki appreciates your wit. “How have you been?”
“Fine, Lord Loki,” you reply. Unlike the other ladies in the room, you look him straight in the eyes. You’re not the kind of woman cowering in front of a man only because he has a cock between his legs. “I hope you are well too.”
“Very well,” he smiles at his wife. “My brother finally got engaged.”
“Again,” Sharon adds. “He’s a little fickle when it comes to courting for a woman. He should grow up and settle for one lady.”
“I understand him well,” you nod thoughtfully. “It isn’t easy to find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. You should choose with your heart and mind.”
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You barely escaped the nagging ladies and their gossip. Now you are hiding at the library to read another book. Loki and Sharon wouldn’t mind. They invited you to use their library when you are around and read as many books as you want to.
Nose burying in another book you don’t recognize someone sneaking inside the library.
“Stevie, you look so good today.” Your eyes flit up when you hear voices behind one of the shelves. “I can’t wait to put my hands on you.”
“Buck, we can’t. Not here.”
Frowning you listen closely. There is commotion behind the shelf, and you are sure, the men are up to no good.
You close the book and get up to find out what’s going on. If someone tries to steal Loki’s books, you will stop them at all costs.
Silently sneaking toward the shelf, you practice your speech in your mind. You’re not shy, but two men can be intimidating. Especially when they try to commit a crime.
You round the shelf, stopping in your tracks as you face the men. Your breath hitches in your throat because the men do not try to steal Loki’s books. No. They are kissing each other passionately.
You recognize the men. James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers. You heard rumors about them being in a relationship but never talked to them before.
You swallow thickly. What can you do? Say something? Tell them to not do such a thing at Loki’s library.
The only thing you can do is turn back around and walk toward the armchair to read your book. If you leave the library now, they will know you saw them. If you say something, they will get mad.
So, you sit back down, open your book, and start reading. You can still hear them kiss and moan but try to blend the noises they make out. It’s inappropriate to listen to their lovemaking. Not to mention sinful and forbidden.
You close your eyes and bite your lower lip. Their moans go straight to your lower half, the sacred garden you only touch at night, hidden in your bedroom.
“Aw, Bucky. Look at that pretty angel touching herself for us. Do you think we should help her out?”
Your eyes snap open as you feel eyes on you. You didn’t realize that the book slipped from your fingers and that you bunched up your skirt to slip your hand into your panties.
“I-no. I didn’t,” you lick your dry lips. “I wouldn’t… no. This is a misunderstanding.” You furiously shake your head.
The men watch your move your fingers, smirking as you cannot stop yourself from touching your clit.
“Doll, you are rubbing your sweet pearl for us, huh?” Bucky’s eyes are glued to your spread legs. “Tell me, did you like watching Stevie and me?”
You nod.
“Did it make your petals all wet?” Steve husks. “Did you touch yourself because you wanted us to touch you?”
You nod again.
“Stevie,” Bucky whispers lowly. “Do you know who she is? The angel no one dared to marry. It’s said that she’s a fiery little thing. Untamable and mouthy.”
“I’m not!” You grunt. “How dare you say such a thing!”
“Fiery and naughty, my beloved,” Steve cups his lover’s face to kiss him deeply. He moans into Bucky’s mouth, making you gasp loudly. “I guess she needs two strong pairs of hands to tame her.”
“Indeed,” Bucky smirks. “I bet her father will be so happy when she gets married to not one but two Lords making her an honest woman…”
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lily-blue · 3 months
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Prince in disguise
☆ characters: crown prince!san & florist!you ☆ genre: modern royalty au, fluff ☆ warnings: mention of a break-in ☆ summary: you like to joke about how San carries himself like a prince; one day it turns out, it’s because he’s indeed royalty ☆ words: 7,9k ☆ a/n: this story was inspired by this video of San ☆ also: merry Christmas to the lovely @restlessmaknae 💕 i wish you a peaceful holiday, so that you could regain your energy and start the new year stronger than ever ☆ massive thanks to: @dat-town for proofreading the story 💕
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You often teased San about how he was the embodiment of your childhood crush, Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid. There was just something in the way he held himself, with so much effortless elegance and pride, that screamed royalty. However, up until the very moment three grown ass men in suits and sunglasses stormed into your flower shop, undoubtedly looking for him, you had never been able to decipher how he really felt about your lighthearted jokes. He definitely didn’t hate them, that much you could tell. He knew you would have stopped as soon as he showed any signs of frustration or discomfort, yet his most common reaction was a small smile and kiss on your forehead. 
It had never, not even in your wildest dreams, when you let yourself dream about your future, occurred to you that he was an actual prince. Like a real prince with a queen as a mother and a kingdom to rule.
‘Miss, I would like to kindly advise you to refrain from any form of dishonesty,’ one of the men said, his voice calm and collected despite the photo in his hands and the urgency of the issue they were dealing with. You had never given any thought to the qualities a bodyguard (a royal bodyguard!) should have possessed, but you had to admit that he must have ticked off all the boxes on that imaginary list. ‘We have been informed that the Crown Prince, in fact, entered this flower shop and he could not have possibly had enough time to leave before we came in.’
You could feel your heart picking up its rate and your palms getting clammy, but you refused to show how nervous his way of speaking made you. You also refused to think about all the negative consequences your inner need to protect San could bring you. You knew that as soon as you let your brain come up with those worst case scenarios you would fold like a folding chair. And you simply couldn’t afford to be weak.
‘Thank you for your advice, sir. However, I also need to kindly remind you that you need a warrant in case you wish to enter the staff only area,’ you stood your ground, grateful that the owner of the shop wasn’t present, so she couldn’t grant them access to the storage room. That might have put both San and you into an uncomfortable situation. ‘I have already told you that your Crown Prince is not here. You are wasting your time,’ you claimed, impressed by how calm your words came out despite the hurricane of emotions inside of you.
What would you tell your parents if you got arrested for lying to these men? It wasn’t like you were hiding a criminal, right?
‘Disobeying the Queen is considered high treason,’ the royal bodyguard stated firmly and you gulped down the knot in your throat when you realised he wasn’t talking to you. The warning was dedicated to the guy who was currently hiding behind dozens of bouquets of lilies and sunflowers for a summer themed banquet tomorrow.
‘Sir.’ You cleared your throat to gain his attention or more like, to divert his attention from the storage room’s door that he was eyeing with intent. You didn’t know what you could have done if he decided to push you aside and enter the staff only area anyway. He clearly had the muscles for that and he also had backup even if the other two men were lingering by the front door. ‘I am a South Korean citizen and we are in South Korea. With all due respect, your Queen has no power here,’ you reminded him, mustering up all the confidence that was left in your body, which wasn’t too much to be honest. You were a mere commoner standing in front of a royal bodyguard, after all. Hell, you were a petite woman in her twenties against a man who had biceps the size of a smaller melon.
In the back of your head, you wondered how long your protective instincts would take you. For the sake of San and yourself, you hoped you could hold on long enough for these men to give up and leave. If things had gone there, you didn’t know how you would have explained to your boss why you had stayed overtime on a Wednesday night.
It took time, and a horrendous amount of awkward and pressuring silence, but eventually a new customer came in and your afternoon regained some of its normality. You helped the girl choose the most suitable flowers for her confession and gave her a gift card for free partly because she was adorable and partly because you were so genuinely grateful for her presence. Her ramble about her childhood best friend slash crush had successfully taken your mind off the predicament you were in with a prince in your storage room.
Unfortunately, after that, the rest of the afternoon kept you on your tiptoes. Two of the men in black suits left, but the third bodyguard refused to leave the shop and made sure you didn’t have a moment of peace with his countless questions and polite warnings of which quite a few were meant for San. At least, you honestly doubted his intention was to appeal to your emotions when he brought up the people of their nation, their well-being and the well-being of the royal couple. As much as you could tell from the morsels you actually understood - at one point the guard started to speak the same language San spoke when he was frustrated -, San’s parents were healthy, but his father was too drained to keep ruling the country for much longer. They wanted him to go back and be the king he had always been meant to be. They wanted him to settle down and have his own heirs.
The latter felt like a fist in the gut, like a knife in the stomach even though your translation’s accuracy was heavily dependent on context clues, so you might have been wrong.
You hoped you were wrong.
‘Sir, we are closing. I have to ask you to leave,’ you spoke up ten minutes before eight and let out a relieved sigh when he didn’t argue. You could handle his ice cold stares, but you were doubtful whether you would have had the energy to get into a fight after hours of cold war. His presence alone had drained you dry and honestly, the only things that kept you going were the knowledge that you were doing this for San and the cinnamon rolls from the vintage coffee shop across the street. They closed at ten, so they usually weren’t out of sweets when you visited them at the end of your most tiresome days.
A little paranoid that the bodyguard might have been still lingering out there, waiting for the moment when you foolishly let your guard down, you busied yourself with the online orders that came in in the last hour and stock checked the customer area. It took almost one and a half hours before you informed San that the coast was clear.
The boy walked out from the storage room with his lower lip between his teeth and a rather embarrassed smile on his face that - based on the months you had spent getting to know each other more - was meant to be reassuring.
‘Are you okay?’ San asked, warmth swelling in your chest due to his first words. Of course, your well-being was his top priority. His apologies and weak attempts at making excuses, so you wouldn’t have been mad at him always came second. ‘I’m so sorry.’
You clenched and unclenched your fists as you looked at him. Did he seriously believe that you could be angry with him for longer than a couple of minutes? You had gotten to know the truth hours ago. You were over the initial shock and done being sulky.
At that point, you just wanted him to be safe.
Therefore, you destroyed the distance between the two of you and not giving a damn about his title, you wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him impossibly close to your body. You could feel your cheek being squeezed as you rested your head on his chest.
‘Are you okay?’ You threw the question right back at him, feeling your heart picking up its rate with each second that passed you by in silence.
San’s lips were soft against your scalp when he kissed the top of your head and wrapped his own arms around your petite frame.
‘Thank you,’ he mumbled against your hair, his tone urging you to pull away and look him in the eyes, hence that was what you did. You pulled away with your hands still around his body and rested your chin on his chest, picking apart his facial expression as you tried to decipher what he was thinking.
Your breath hitched when he pressed his lips against yours briefly.
‘I promise I will explain everything,’ he said, his forehead fitting close to yours before he lifted his right hand and brushed a stubborn lock behind your ear. ‘But first, I need to take care of a few things. Important things,’ he claimed and with that - and another tender kiss pressed against your parted lips - he was gone.
You looked after him in trance for minutes before you shook your head and willed yourself to walk in the storage room to finish the stock checking. There was a cinnamon roll waiting for you at the coffee shop across the street.
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You hadn’t heard from San that night, which was a tad bit alarming considering that he was living in your apartment unofficially for over a month. He had his own clothes at yours, his own towel, shower gel, shampoo and toothbrush. You had his favourite plant-based milk in your fridge along with his favourite instant coffee. His mug that matched yours was in your cabinet, waiting for him to come home. So why hadn’t he? The number of possibilities made you anxious.
What if those men had found him and he was already out of the country?
By the time the second night of radio silence rolled by, you were checking your phone abnormally frequently and couldn’t stay focused for longer than five or six minutes. It came to a point where even the Thai series you were currently obsessed with couldn’t keep you on the couch. You had to move around, clean up something, do something, anything that might have been able to take your mind off San’s absence. 
You almost knocked off the half-empty mug of hot chocolate from the kitchen counter, the marshmallows still in your hands, when your front door opened out of the blue. You threw the sweets into your drink with a yelp and grabbed the first potential weapon that you came across: the cutting board you kept behind the knife organiser.
‘I have 112 on speed dial,’ you threatened, lowkey wondering whether you should have been more daring and grabbed one of the knives as you walked towards your bedroom, not turning your back to the front door. There should have been a key in the lock from the inside. You should have been safe once you reached the bedroom.
‘Well, that’s good to know, but why are we calling the police?’ A very tired, very amused San asked from the threshold, walking into the open space of your living room slash dining room with a bag of takeout in his hand.
You could feel the rocks being lifted off your chest.
‘Are you crazy? San! You scared the shit out of me,’ you accused, more relieved than angry. Seeing his tired eyes, you were reminded of the bodyguards and wanted to run up to him and inspect his body for injuries. You wanted to make sure he was okay; however, your limbs were frozen, hence you just stood there like a way too realistic statue from Ancient Rome.
Then, your gaze fell on the plastic bags in his hands again and your brain supplied you with all the worst case scenarios it could come up with: San coming over for a last minute farewell dinner before he moved countries; San asking you to change your relationship status to long-distance relationship; San breaking up with you with your favourite black bean noodles. You weren’t ready to let him go after putting so much effort into winning him over.
‘I’m sorry, petal. I thought you would know it’s me. After all, there aren’t many people who know your passcode and your parents are out of town,’ he said. There was something in the way he broke the situation down to you that made you feel a little dramatic. Of course, you should have known it was him. Other than your mom and your best friend, he was the only one who had access to your apartment.
You pressed your lips together and pouted. He had no right to make you feel silly when your survival instincts were the ones to blame.
‘What are the noodles for?’ You asked as soon as you put yourself together, finally finding the power to move your legs and walk up to him. The furrow between San’s eyebrows and the confusion in his eyes shouldn’t have been so adorable.
‘It’s Thursday. You never have energy to cook on Thursdays and Fridays,’ he explained, like you were some kind of alien who wasn’t accustomed to the local habits yet or a person who had just woken up from years of coma. He must have thought that your question was so damn ridiculous, but it wasn’t what you had meant.
‘You didn’t come home yesterday,’ you said, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the whiny edge of your statement and the fact that San had his own place to sleep at. His lease wouldn’t expire for at least three more months, so you hadn’t moved in together yet. You had no right to call him to account regarding his whereabouts and still, after what had happened the day before, you kind of felt like you had.
You took the bags out of his hands and helped him unpack the still pleasantly lukewarm food. You also started to prepare a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows for him, too, without asking whether he wanted some. He never said no for hot chocolate.
‘I was with Wooyoung,’ he said, filling a tray with numerous tiny bowls containing various side dishes such as kimchi and yellow radish. ‘I needed his help to contact my oldest cousin, Seonghwa.’
You nodded along with every new revelation, paying close attention to every detail while you slid San’s drink towards him on the dining table. It was your first time hearing about any of his family members, at least from him, so you were admittedly curious.
Even though the trays on the table made it obvious that San’s initial intention was to have this conversation on the couch, you didn’t move an inch from your poor excuse for a dining room. You just stood there, with your elbows on the marble, one of your soles resting on the inner side of your other leg and dove into your food with a pair of wooden chopsticks. You didn’t take your eyes off San while he told you everything about his situation.
‘I left the country with Woonyoung’s family when I was fourteen,’ he started, assuring you that he wasn’t a runaway prince per se, and that he had never hid from his parents. Both the queen and the king of their country knew how to reach him in case of emergency, teenager San had just convinced himself that that day would never come as his parents had never bothered to contact him after he had moved out of the palace. With years of neglect behind his back, his adult-self never thought about the possibility that things might have changed.
You placed your hand on top of his and squeezed it as a sign of your support. You were afraid that he would interpret your sympathy as pity, therefore you tried your best to keep your emotions in check. Instead, you gave San all of your attention, hot chocolate momentarily forgotten.
‘Would you like to go back? Now that it’s an option?’ You mustered up the courage to tear off one of the band-aids; the unsaid inquiry whether he wanted to become a king in the first place hiding between the lines. Somehow, it sounded such an insensitive question, you didn’t have the heart to phrase yours like that despite your curiosity. Therefore, you decided to focus on the fact that the royal couple was his parents. ‘To see your mom and dad?’
After a few seconds of contemplation, San shrugged.
‘I guess so,’ he said and you hated yourself for feeling disappointed. They were his parents. Of course, he wanted to see them again. Who were you in comparison to his family? Without much thought, you took your hand off his; however, San didn’t hesitate to reach after it and intertwined your fingers with a soft smile. ‘But that can wait until Seonghwa’s coronation. It’s been over a decade since we’ve last seen each other. A few more months is no big deal if it means they will let me come back to you.’
As touching as it was that he was willing to delay their reunion to be able to stay with you, your first instinct was to remind him that he was his own person and no one had more power over his life than him. But then you swallowed down the words as your brain caught up with the situation. You might have been absolutely right about this matter in general, but San was a prince. Clearly, general rules didn’t apply to him.
‘What do you mean Seonghwa’s coronation?’ You tried to fill in the holes that made it hard for you to fully comprehend the situation. You thought he was the next in line to rule. You definitely remembered the bodyguard referring to him as the Crown Prince.
‘Well, that’s the most important part of our plan,’ he started, pushing the food closer to you, encouraging you to start eating before it got cold. Albeit reluctantly, you eventually gave in, allowing him to steal himself a couple of seconds as well as he dove into the perfect mixture of noodles and red bean sauce.
Then, he proceeded to tell you about the plan they had made with Woonyoung and six of their mutual friends including his cousin and Seonghwa’s personal bodyguard, Jongho. Since San didn’t wish to become the new ruler of their country, but knew that his parents wouldn’t back off without a fight, they intended to prove to them that Seonghwa was the better choice in every aspect: maturity, dedication towards his people and the country, connections, political and economical knowledge. The way he presented their idea and backed up each one of his reasons made even you think that Seonghwa was more fitting for the role. It made you feel hopeful.
‘Do you think your parents will let you give up the crown?’ You couldn’t help but ask when it became obvious that he didn’t have anything more to say.
The silence that followed was palpable. Still, you let him drag it out and pull you into his lap, so he could wrap his arms around you instead of giving you a definite answer. Now you knew that he wasn’t close to his parents - that their relationship could only have been described as distant. Making guesses based on childhood memories would have just given you false hope. You much preferred his soothing touches and the desperation in the way he held you close.
‘I love you,’ he murmured into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, hinting the soft and sensitive area with feather-like kisses.
You sucked in your lower lip, holding your breath. Even though his actions had shown you, even before you two had gotten together, that you were an important person in San’s life, the two of you had never exchanged I love yous before. As much as you hated to acknowledge, it had a bittersweet undertone to it. You wished you could have told him how precious he was to you under different circumstances.
Nevertheless, you said it back.
‘I love you, too. So much.’
That night you eventually relocated to the living room and got comfortable under your fluffy blankets on the couch. You had two mugs of freshly made hot chocolate with you - this time, without marshmallows to lower your already high sugar intake - and some salty snacks you could munch on while you talked. And you talked a lot. You talked about the day before, how the bodyguards had found him and how serious their threats had been. San was almost sure that his parents would have never imprisoned him for high treason if he had refused to go home willingly. By the way his lips curled upwards and his eyes gouged your reaction, you knew he was only trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but it was too early, hence it wasn’t funny. Life imprisonment with a cheap excuse was exactly how they could have kept him in the country! How could San not see it?
‘Don’t even think about joking about this again, you hear me? It’s not funny,’ you scoffed when he tried to ease you with lingering kisses atop of your head, temple and on your blade bone. Him disappearing on you just wasn’t it.
‘I promise.’ He nosed your temple, holding you in his arms a big tighter to make up for the anxiety he had unintentionally caused. ‘I’m sorry,’ he added, repeating it like a mantra until he successfully coaxed a chuckle out of you.
With the show you had been watching before his arrival as your background noise and his warmth surrounding your body, you fell asleep on San’s shoulder while he was talking about Seonghwa’s bodyguard, karaoke, imported beer and apples. If anyone had asked you, you were sure you would have failed to draw the connection between all four, but you knew your boyfriend would have never used your tiredness against you. On the contrary, he would have been grateful that you still felt safe in his arms.
And you did. You did feel safe. Because for you, he was your home.
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In the back of your mind, you were aware that your story wouldn’t end up being a fairy-tale, and that even those had some dark twists to them here and there when they were told by the original authors. Still, coming home for a messed up apartment and no San in sight knocked the air out of your lungs. No matter how much you tried to rationalise the happenings or keep your cool, panic overcame you in a matter of seconds. You didn’t know what to do. Would calling the police have made things worse? What if it had been those bodyguards? You didn’t intend to put San into a tight position in case the pitiful state of your home was a consequence of their family quarrel.
On the other hand, what if he had been kidnapped? You had left work pretty late that night, so there was a possibility that San had been home when things had escalated.
Hands shaking and mind pushed into an overdrive, you fished your phone out of the bag you had previously dropped on the floor and dialled San’s number. He didn’t pick up, so you did the next best thing you could think about without losing it: you called him again. Again. And again.
You called him as many times as it was necessary for him to answer your call, his calm voice breaking something in you as your knees gave out as soon as his greeting reached you and you fell on the floor, crying.
‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ When you sniffed into the phone instead of answering, his voice lost its calmness. ‘Petal, what’s happening? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?’
You weren’t hurt, not physically at least. But the chaotic mess your mental state was in was secondary to the fact that San sounded to be oblivious of the intrusion into your home.
‘Please, petal, talk to me,’ he tried to coax you and while it didn’t work immediately, when he started to do a breathing exercise, you automatically mimicked the way he sucked the air into his lungs. In through your nose, out through your mouth. In through your nose, out through your mouth.
‘Where are you?’ The words felt like sand on the tip of your tongue, your urge to know for sure that he was in public or at least among people who could help him in case of emergency pushing all your other worries aside.
‘I’m with the guys at Wooyoung’s place. Do you need me to pick you up? Where are you? I will pick you up,’ San said, the distant sound of keys chiming and wood cracking assuring you that he was ready to leave as soon as you gave him the sign. Hell, he might have left the boys without you explicitly asking for it considering the worry in his voice.
But as comforting as the thought was, you didn’t want him anywhere near your apartment.
‘No!’ You objected, maybe a tad bit too vehemently for which you might have felt awkward under different circumstances. Now, emotions like shame and embarrassment were at the end of your priority list. ‘Can I visit you instead? I promise I’ll tell you everything in person,’ you negotiated. Not realising that you were holding your breath, a relieved sigh escaped through your pressed lips when San chose to withhold his questions for the time being.
Some matters were wiser to discuss in person. Matters that could put you in a tight position if anyone found evidence about your scheming. Especially when you were up against an opponent so powerful, they had the resources of actual royalty.
Looking around in your fucked up apartment, without your heart threatening to explode in your ribcage, you knew you didn’t want to take unnecessary risks. You had to be smart about your next move.
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You showed up at Wooyoung’s place an hour later with one sports bag packed with your most necessary belongings and was greeted with a worried San who didn’t understand why you would have brought your entire bathroom cabinet to his best friend’s apartment when you loved your home. You definitely had a lot to unpack, both literally and figuratively.
‘I can’t believe they’re willing to go this far,’ a guy with sharp eyes and nose said, the same guy who had taken it upon himself to bring you a mug of herbal tea when you made yourself comfortable on Wooyoung’s couch. His name was Hongjoong or something similar if you remembered correctly. ‘I start to think that we might have underestimated them a little.’
‘A little?’ Two or three of San’s friends asked in chorus at the same time San lifted his head up from your shoulder and said:
‘I doesn’t matter. Our plan is good, they’ll have no other choice but to go along with it.’
Just by looking at his friends, you couldn’t tell whether they actually believed what San had said, but it was clear as day that they believed in your boyfriend, hence you leaned against his broad chest and let yourself relax. Neither San nor you were alone in this. You had allies and strategies. You had a good plan, and even if that failed, you had options. San’s parents might have been powerful, they could clearly break into your home to scare you, but they had no real authority in Korea.
A voice in the back of your head also reminded you that you lived in the era of social media. You doubted they would have risked bad publicity by pushing their son too much and causing irreversible damage to those he cherished. Or so you hoped.
‘Our plan is good, but will princess Yuna actually agree to go along with it?’ Another guy, whose name you hadn’t memorised yet, asked, his question piquing your interest. It was the first time you heard about this princess and with your obsession with Asian dramas, you did not like the first scenarios your brain threw at you as it tried to fill in the gaps. Who was she? Why was she an important part of the plan? Was she interested in San?
‘Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about before petal came. She said yes,’ San said, the hollering and overflowing happiness in the room making you feel weird, like something wasn’t quite right with the situation: like you were missing something crucial that would have given you a perfect explanation for the odd reaction the news received.
With naturally pouty lips and furrowed eyebrows, you placed your hands on your lap along with the pleasantly warm mug and turned towards San. His smile was so beautiful. He was genuinely happy about the progress they had made now that this princess was on board.
‘Who is she?’ You asked, mentally reminding yourself that you were San’s girlfriend. You had every right to ask him about this girl until you remained clear-headed and didn’t throw a temper tantrum for no reason.
‘She is the most sought out unmarried royalty in Asia. Her family’s country is very small, but their economic power is remarkable.’ Hongjoong said.
‘She is two years older than San, but they’ve known each other since they were babies, so he’s allowed to talk to her informally. Her kindness isn’t just for show, she really is the most warm-hearted royalty I’ve ever met,’ Wooyoung added before his wide grin turned into a frown. ‘She never lets me talk to her informally, though. Like I haven’t known her for just as long.’
‘Yeah, she’s so unfair.’ Yeosang’s voice was teasing as he altered it to sound more mocking: like Wooyoung’s but a pitch higher. ‘It’s not because you called her Yuna in front of a bunch of politicians when she explicitly told you to use her birth name when people other than your family were present.’ The bombastic side eye the blond boy gave to Wooyoung almost made you laugh. Almost.
You had to admit, this princess Yuna sounded pretty amazing. Gosh. You were such a horrible person.
San must have sensed your inner turmoil, because the next thing you noticed was the light touch of the tip of his nose against your cheek and his pillowy lips against your jawline.
‘She’s also Seonghwa’s fiancée,’ he murmured, placing one of his warm palms on the other side of your face, so that he could turn your head a bit more and make you look at him. You gulped, more shy than nervous. ‘That’s what she said yes to. Seonghwa proposed to her a few hours ago.’
You sucked in your lower lip, but before you could have done any damage, San pulled it out from between your teeth with his thumb; the fondness in his eyes simultaneously took your breath away and made you feel unworthy of his love. How could you have seriously thought that he would have included someone in their plan - felt so happy about her joining their team - if she had any interest in him romantically?
‘So it’s not a fake marriage?’ You inquired, coaxing a small laugh out of your boyfriend. His eyes almost disappeared because of the pure amusement on his face. It didn’t take long before you gave into the urge to hide your own in the crook of his neck.
Going easy on you, San semi-successfully bit back a chuckle and put his chin atop of your head, stroking your hair.
‘No, it’s not a fake marriage. They’ve also known each other since childhood, obviously. And they’re pretty much in love,’ he reassured you, letting you have all the time in the world if that was what you needed to be able to look him in the eyes again.
Fortunately, you didn’t need that much to get over the fact that you were only human; a girl with fears and insecurities. The herbal tea in your mug was still pleasantly lukewarm when you pulled away and straightened your back.
‘So cute,’ San whispered, pressing a soft peck against your lips before he helped you readjust your position on his lap, so you wouldn’t hurt your neck too much with the way your body was twisted and turned to be able to be chest to chest to him.
‘Oh, stop that!’ Wooyoung’s frustrated voice came from somewhere beside you, your brain not registering that he was teasing, or that he was talking to you until he said: ‘One royal wedding will be shocking enough for your parents. I don’t think they will be able to handle two.’
Failing to disregard the sudden attention on you, your cheeks became warmer and more pink with each second; however, you refused to seek comfort in the crook of San’s neck because you just knew that would have made things worse. You concentrated on your tea instead, on the feel of the porcelain against your clammy palms, on the fluffy blanket on your thighs. On everything and anything that wasn’t your boyfriend or his friends.
‘You’re making her shy,’ one of the boys cooed and some other joined, pushing your heart to the verge of an explosion. You didn’t realise that your hands were trembling until San slid his fingers between yours around your mug and leaned close to your ear.
‘Let’s kick Wooyoung out of his bedroom. I know where the clean sheets are, and it can be locked from the inside,’ he whispered, his lips curling upwards, therefore grazing along your earlobe. You hesitated only for a split second before you nodded.
You got up from the couch and let your boyfriend lead you towards his friend’s bedroom. As the key turned in the lock the thought crossed your mind that you had never done anything so scandalising before, but somehow the immense amount of guilt never came. Instead, you felt excited.
Excited, hopeful and safe in San’s arms.
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You were arranging a bouquet of light pink carnations and peach-coloured buttercups for an anniversary when San walked out of the storage room at your workplace with a new roll of lace wrapping and his phone in his hands. With the way he dragged his feet, walking impossibly slowly, you just knew that his eyes were glued to the small screen; you didn’t need to tear your gaze away from the flowers that had your attention to be a hundred percent sure.
‘Have they started it already?’ You inquired between two twists and turns, holding the whole bouquet together with practised ease even when you had to take the wrapping from San with one of your hands. You still remembered how many you had dropped on the floor during your first few months at the flower shop. The number of flowers that had gotten destroyed in your care haunted you up to this day.
‘No, they’ve been focusing on mother and father so far. Mostly on father, but that’s kind of understandable,’ he said, your lips twitching at the mention of the royal couple.
Prince Seonghwa and Princess Yuna’s wedding had been a week ago and while you hadn’t attended the event, nor had done San, your boyfriend’s parents had made it to their mission to put you through anxiety when they had demanded to talk to you as soon as San had picked up the phone for them the day his cousin had announced the big news. They hadn’t gone as far as to threaten you or bribe you with more money than your type could comprehend, but you were well aware they didn’t think you were worthy of their son. God, they had quite literally told you he could have done much better.
‘Last minutes being a king. I wonder how he feels about that,’ you commented, putting in a bit of extra effort to not sound rude. You didn’t want San to think you hated his father even if, rightfully so, he hadn’t been your favourite person in the world.
‘I don’t think he minds it that much. He was only twenty-two when he took the throne. Three decades is a long time,’ he explained while he leaned the phone against a vase on the counter and put a part of his weight on his palms that laid flat against the marble. ‘The only thing he might be upset about is Seonghwa taking my place.’
You regretted the snort the moment you did it. Your hands froze around the perfectly wrapped bouquet and so did the air, which made it hard to look your boyfriend in the eye.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful,’ you apologised, putting the flowers in water before you took San’s hand in yours. ‘They are your parents and I’ll be forever grateful to them for your existence. For sending you to this country out of all the countries they could choose from.’ You shot a small albeit genuine smile in his direction. It might have sounded a little cheesy, but you meant every word. Without them you would have never had him.
‘I’m not mad at you,’ he reassured you, squeezing your hand and pressing a soft kiss atop of your shoulder blade before he turned back to his phone and you reached for the next pieces of flowers. You had five more bouquets to finish before your lunch break.
Seonghwa’s coronation officially started when your bibimbap was still in need of some more mixing, but that didn’t keep you from leaning closer to San’s phone and watching the live stream with more excitement than you had had for his father. You might have never spoken to your boyfriend’s cousin before, but you had heard enough stories about him from the boys to know he would be an amazing king. Mostly, because he cared for his people and because he genuinely wanted the responsibility that came with the title.
‘He looks like a leader. So serious-looking,’ you commented, shoving a huge spoonful of food in your mouth and humming in appreciation because goodness, it tasted just like your mom’s homemade bibimbap.
You lifted a bite in front of San’s mouth, so he could try it, too.
You watched the ceremony in complete silence; sometimes you fed him, sometimes you put your head on his shoulder while munching. It was nice. You hadn’t been so content in weeks if not in months.
‘Aren’t you disappointed?’ San asked you after the crown was put on Seonghwa’s head and the sovereign’s sceptre and the sovereign’s orb were placed in his hands.
You furrowed your brows in confusion.
‘About what? The ceremony?’ You asked, completely oblivious of what was going on in his head. You jutted out your lower lip; you didn’t like feeling as though you were kept in the dark. It made you feel stupid.
San shook his head, failing to hide the fond smile that was in the corner of his mouth.
‘Yuna is officially a queen now,’ he mumbled and despite how embarrassing it was to admit, it took you a couple of seconds to decipher what he was hinting at: you could have become a queen, too, if only he had gone along with a different plan, with a different goal in mind. You were pretty sure, based on your impactful experience with his parents, that they would have let him keep you if the other option was their nephew on the throne.
‘And you’re officially free. I think it’s an amazing day for everyone,’ you teased, gifting your boyfriend one of your happiest smiles, so that he wouldn’t have doubted that you loved him for who he was instead of what he could have become. You didn’t care about the title or the fortune that golden crown came with. Honestly, all you focused on was how heavy it must have been to carry it, especially when one wasn’t keen on looking after an entire nation.
One careful glance at San was enough for you to know that a well-thought-out retort was already on the tip of his tongue - maybe something along the line that his salary was barely enough to save up a decent amount in each month -, but he never got the opportunity to actually put his concerns into words. The bells above the front door cut him off and naturally, your conversation came to a momentary end.
The new customer was a middle-aged man with a little girl on his right, her tiny hand getting lost in her father’s much bigger one before she pointed at one of the peonies and the man let her explore the flower shop on her own.
‘Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?’ You greeted the man with a smile as soon as his steps came to a halt in front of the counter.
Like most people who visited your workplace, the man had only vague ideas of what he was looking for, but you were fluent in the language of flowers, hence it caused you no headache to help him find the most suitable bouquet for his wife’s birthday. He wanted something that expressed his dedication to make the woman smile, therefore, you gave him options like pink tulips and yellow flowers in general.
Meanwhile, the little girl pulled on the hem of San’s tee and didn’t let go of the fabric until he stood up and followed her towards the customer area that you liked to refer to as the jungle. The corner with the spiller plants for example were like a sight from a botanical book or the children’s book with the gorillas and the little boy taken in and raised by said wild animals.
You bit back a giggle when you saw San lifting the little girl up, so that she could see the red roses from up close; however, your subtle smile froze on your face anyway when the little one asked San:
‘Are you a prince?’ In the most innocent voice you had ever heard in your life. She was so pure. She clearly had no idea what she was talking about and yet, both of you needed a few seconds to realise she wasn’t onto something bigger than her - something that could have put her in harm’s way. ‘Can I be your princess?’
The mortification on her father’s face almost cracked you up, and you did chuckle discretely when looking up, you took a better look at the girl. What looked like a summer dress at first glance turned out to be a princess costume. She even had a tiny, plastic tiara on her head.
San put her on the ground and crouched down to be at eye level with her.
‘I’m sorry, princess, I would be honoured to become your prince, but you see, I already have my own princess and I need to treat her right,’ he explained with utmost patience, then took the little girl’s hand in his (with her permission and her father’s approving nod, of course) and pressed a feather-like kiss on the back of it. ‘Will you forgive me and keep my secret?’
You couldn’t see the little girl’s face, but she was shifting her weight from one foot to the other, so your best guess would have been that she wasn’t entirely placated. Still, eventually she nodded and made grabby hands at your boyfriend, insisting that she wanted to see more of the flowers. That, you did not mind at all. In fact, you found it rather adorable.
(San with a tiny human being in his arms was adorable. They turned your legs jelly and your knees uncharacteristically weak.)
‘I’m sorry about Minah. They had Occupation day in school today and she insisted that being a princess is a full-time job, so her mother and I let her dress as one,’ the man explained and you shook your head with an endeared smile. You weren’t mad at his daughter nor were you jealous of the attention she got from your boyfriend. If anything, his willingness to humour her made you fall for San harder.
‘Minah is right. Being a princess is a full-time job,’ you said without contemplating whether your words sounded ridiculous, although before the whole royal guard incident, you would have thought she was childish, rightfully so. She couldn’t have been older than seven.
You didn’t talk much with the customer after that, but you didn’t mind the silence. It gave you the perfect opportunity to listen to San’s conversation with the little girl, which was just as hilarious as cheesy, especially when you caught him declaring his love for you with such vehemency as if real-life princes also needed to defeat magical creatures to protect their loved ones. Where was their debate about good dragons and bad dragons coming from?
A light shade of pink crept up your cheeks when the little girl asked San straightforwardly whether he was talking about you, but you tried to remain composed.
‘It’ll be 30,000₩, sir,’ you informed the customer with a customer-service smile and gave him the bouquet before you took his money; the exchange smooth and fast. The prices were written on the board above your head, right behind the counter; however, some people liked to criticise your craft in hope of a discount. Those customers never failed to make you feel anxious.
‘Thank you. It’s beautiful,’ the man complimented the arrangement before he bid his goodbye and turned towards his daughter. ‘Minah-yah! It’s time to go. Say goodbye.’
Albeit reluctantly, the little girl wrapped her arms around San’s right leg and hugged him. Then, like a real princess, she walked up to you and did a curtsy, which you returned with a few-second-long delay. You were too taken aback to react immediately.
You were still a little shocked when the door closed shut behind the two, but then San hugged you from behind and reality caught up with you. You melted against his broad chest.
‘She was cute,’ he commented, coaxing a hum out of you.
Closing your eyes and letting out a content sigh, in the back of your mind you knew that you still had a very serious conversation on hold. A conversation in which your boyfriend would tell you over and over again why he wasn’t enough: how he had barely enough savings, hence how you couldn’t possibly depend on him in financial emergencies. Like money was the most important thing in a relationship! Like you didn’t have your own savings.
Turning around in his arms, you linked your arms behind his neck and pressed your soft lips against his. You wished these gestures were proof that his heart of gold had won you over years ago; that you didn’t wish to become a queen and even if you did, you didn’t need the title because he already treated you like royalty. He was everything - kind-hearted, attentive, loyal and so much more - and you wouldn’t have changed a thing in your lives. 
Crown Prince or not, San made you happy and excited about the future. About your future. Even if you had a long way to go and might have had numerous battles to march into to earn his parents’ approval.
the end.
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libraryofgage · 2 months
Text
The Prince and the Metalhead
Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually
Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse One (you're here!)
Despite the title, this series will focus a little more on Steve growing up in Genovia for the first few parts. That being said, there will be Steddie because this whole thing was inspired by my desire to write a modern royalty AU.
So, ya know, it's coming lol
For now, just enjoy Steve being raised by our favorite queen.
As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)
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Clarisse stares at the two-story house from the driveway. It looks incredibly...American. It's American in a way that Amelia's home and city aren't. This house is the Ideal American Home, the kind people are told is the goal in life, the kind with no personality and no distinguishing features compared to other houses on its street. It's the kind of house she'd never see in Genovia, and she's glad for it.
"Your Majesty," Joe says, pulling her attention from the house to her driver. "If you are nervous, may I suggest returning another day?"
She knows exactly what he's doing. It still works. She still pulls herself together, rolls her shoulders back, and raises her chin. "A queen is never nervous. She is simply calculating her approach."
With that, she opens the door and gracefully (the kind of grace that comes with years of practice) steps out of the car. She smooths down her clothes, takes one more deep breath, and strides to the front door. Joe is just a step behind her, always a step behind her, as she rings the doorbell and waits.
A few moments pass, the blinds in the window next to the door shift, and then the door is pulled open. A young boy, certainly no more than ten, stands before her, looking nervously between Clarisse and Joe.
And could you blame Steve? The only visitors he gets when his parents are gone are secretaries that sweep into the home, make sure he's alive, and leave right after. Nobody rings the doorbell, nobody knocks, and nobody knows he's alone in the big house, just like his parents told him it should be.
"Hello," the lady says, her accent vaguely European and similar to his father's. "Are you Steve Harrington?"
If she knows his name, maybe she's been sent by his parents. She looks fancy enough, and the guy with her looks scary enough. Steve grips the door tighter and nods once. "Yes, ma'am," he says, his voice soft and barely a whisper so he doesn't upset her.
"Good. Is your father home?"
"No, ma'am."
That makes her pause, her lips tugging down in a frown, and Steve wonders if he's already failed whatever test this must be. His father will give them sometimes, in the rare moments he's home, and it's always to measure how polite Steve his, how proper, how cultured. This must be a new kind of test, a way for his father to further measure him. He gathers himself, takes a subtle breath, and asks, "Would you like to come in?"
"You don't know who we are," the man suddenly says. "Why are you inviting us in?"
Oh. He's failing this test already. Steve bites his lip, ducking his head. "It's polite to invite people in," he says. "But, um, could you tell me your names first?"
He glances up to see that frown on the lady's face deepen, and his stomach starts to churn. "Yes, of course," she says, clearing her throat before continuing, "I am Clarisse Renaldi, and this is Joe."
Steve looks between the two of them before slowly nodding. "Please, come in," he says, holding the door open. The two adults are hesitant but enter the home anyway, watching Steve as he shuts the door silently and locks it. "This way, please."
He leads them to the living room, looks at the books and papers spread on the coffee table, and blushes. "I'm sorry for the mess," he says, quickly sweeping everything off the coffee table and holding it close to his chest. "I was doing homework and didn't expect visitors. Please, sit. I'll get some tea."
With that, he turns on his heel and hurries out of the living room. He presses his back against the wall, eyes closed and heart racing as he listens to the man and woman talk. "He's very polite," the woman says, sounding pleased and surprised.
"Too polite," the man replies, "What ten year old says things like expecting visitors and offers to make tea?"
Steve swallows around the lump in his throat and hurries to the kitchen. He puts his papers and books on the small table there, climbs the stool in front of the sink to fill a kettle with water, and then climbs the stool in front of the stove to place it down. He turns on the burner, watching the flames jump before getting cups, a teapot, tea leaves, and a tray to place it all on.
In total, the process from heating the water to pouring it over the leaves in the pot and carrying that to the living room is no more than eight minutes. It still feels like an eternity, though, when Steve knows each second is a mark against him. "I'm sorry for making you wait," he says as he enters the living room, carefully placing the tray on the coffee table. He pours a cup for the woman first, then the man, and then himself, careful not to spill a drop.
"Did you make this yourself?" the woman asks, picking up her teacup and taking a polite sip.
When Steve nods, he gets a tiny smile in return. And then the man says, "Aren't you a little young to do these things?"
Steve has been taught how to answer questions like this, ones that imply his parents aren’t doing enough to raise him. He picks up his teacup, holding it in his hands and letting the warmth transfer to his palms. “I like making tea,” he says, keeping his voice steady, “so Mother taught me how to use the stove safely.”
Joe looks ready to say more, but Clarisse clears her throat. He shuts his mouth, picking up his own cup just to do something. “When should we expect your father, Steve?” Clarisse asks, placing her teacup back on its plate. She’s seated on the edge of the couch, her ankles tucked together so her legs are at a slant and her back perfectly straight. 
He can’t lie. If they stay, they’ll know he’s lying when his father doesn’t return. Maybe they just want to see his father, and Steve can let them think his mother will be home soon and convince them to leave before she is. He decides this is a good plan and says the extremely familiar words, “He’s away on a business trip.”
That earns him a frown, but before he can try to fix his mistake, Clarisse nods once and asks, “What about your mother, then?”
Steve tenses, dropping his gaze to his teacup and scrambling to find an answer. He swallows around the nervous lump in his throat, takes a sip of his tea, and feels his stomach twist when he still doesn’t have anything to say in response. 
“How long have your parents been gone?” Joe asks. 
The question pierces through him so harshly that Steve’s hands twitch, tea splashing over the edges of the cup and onto his fingers. He hisses at the temperature, quickly setting the cup down and getting a tissue to wipe the tea away. 
“What do you mean gone?” Clarisse asks.
“There are no cars in the driveway and no adult shoes by the door. We passed the kitchen on the way here, and only one set of dishes is in the drying rack. Stools have been placed wherever a child might need to reach something too high for them otherwise. Dust is on the shelf with adult books, but the smaller shelf with movies appropriate for children is clean, implying regular use. Finally, my men have informed me that Mr. and Mrs. Harrington boarded a plane headed for Hong Kong from London.”
Steve’s eyes widen as Joe speaks, his stomach twisting ever tighter with each word. When Clarisse looks back at him, his eyes begin to sting and he looks down at his lap. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice quiet as he clenches the hem of his shirt. 
“What on Earth are you apologizing for?” Clarisse asks, sounding so insulted that Steve shrinks in on himself. “You are not to blame for your parents’ incompetence and negligence. Of all the things your father has done, abandoning you to fend for yourself is unforgivable.”
Oh. She’s…angry for him? Steve looks up, meeting Clarisse’s eyes and wondering why she cares. And then, because he thinks she can’t possibly be any angrier, he takes a risk by asking, “Why are you here?”
Clarisse pauses, blinks twice, and then gathers herself. Her shoulders relax some, but her back remains straight. “I am Clarisse Renaldi, Queen of Genovia, and your grandmother.”
Steve stares at her, glances at Joe to see if this is some kind of joke, and then looks back when all he gets in return is a blank stare. “My…grandmother?” he asks, his voice quiet.
“Yes. Your father, Richard Harrington, is my son. He was…well, he involved himself in troublesome schemes and had to leave Genovia and the line of succession. We keep tabs on him, of course, but all contact is otherwise restricted.”
None of that surprises Steve. He’s heard his father complaining when he has a bit too much whiskey, muttering under his breath about betrayal and being forced from his home and that it was only a few million he took. 
“I…still don’t know why you’re here.”
“Yes, well, the Crown Prince of Genovia has recently passed, and you are next in the line of succession. So, I traveled here to meet you and bring you back to Genovia for a proper education befitting a Crown Prince.”
Steve is staring at his lap again, his mind turning. So much information has been given to him, and he can only focus on the part that makes his heart speed up with hesitant hope. “Would…would my parents go with us?” he asks.
“Your father is still barred from Genovia. Your mother is welcome, though.”
“Does she have to go with us?”
He looks up in time to see Clarisse pause, tilting her head as she considers him for a moment. “No, Steve, neither of your parents must accompany us,” she says.
“Will I ever be alone?”
“The royal family employs upwards of 300 staff to keep the palace running smoothly,” Joe says, nodding once to confirm that number when Steve gives him an incredulous look. 
“Members of staff will be assigned to you as well,” Clarisse adds, smiling softly when Steve returns his attention to her. “At least three maids, several private tutors, at least one playmate for social development, and a personal team of security to keep you safe.”
Something lifts from Steve’s shoulders then. He’s not stupid. He knows his parents aren’t good. He learned that last year when he realized that other kids’ parents picked them up from school and gave them hugs and surprised them with pizza nights and just smiled at them. Steve looked at those parents, thought of his own, and quietly accepted that they either sucked or he just hasn’t figured out what will make them love him yet.
A tiny part of him knows that nothing will.
“Will you be my new mother, then?” Steve asks.
He watches Clarisse’s surprised expression morph into something unsure. “I will certainly be taking on a parental role,” she says, the words slow.
Steve looks down again, trying to ignore the disappointment that stirs in him when he realizes she’s just trying to spare his feelings. She won’t be a mother; she’ll be like his teacher. She’ll be someone who makes sure he learns what he should, eats when he should, and passes him along to the appropriate person when there’s a problem. 
Still, she’s nicer than his own parents, and Steve won’t be alone if he goes to Genovia. If nothing else, it will be better than this empty house and his absent parents. “If I packed right now, can we leave?” he asks.
When Clarisse agrees, Steve excuses himself and goes to his room. 
Once he’s out of sight, Clarisse looks at Joe and says, “He’s a very mature child.”
“He shouldn’t be.”
Clarisse nods once in agreement, looking down at the teapot in front of them and wondering if Steve has ever burned himself on it. “I believe he’ll take to being royalty well,” she says.
When she looks up, Joe is frowning. “If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?” he asks. When Clarisse nods, he clears his throat. “Before he can be royalty, he needs to be a child. For his own good, he needs a parent, not someone taking on a parental role. You may not be his mother, Your Majesty, but you are his grandmother. You have the ability to give him the unconditional care and love he’s been deprived of so far.”
“I suppose you have a point,” Clarisse admits, frowning slightly in thought. “I just…”
“You are worried he will be like his father.”
“Yes.”
“He is not his father. You cannot project the wrongdoings of Richard onto Steve. It is unfair to him and you. He deserves a fresh start, one that is not burdened by his father.”
“I will think on it,” Clarisse says, already knowing she’s going to do as Joe has suggested. “In the meantime, look into parenting books. If nothing else, Steve’s maids and tutors can review their contents as he grows.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
--------------
Genovia is small, but the palace is huge. It towers over Steve like something out of a Disney movie, and he almost falls behind during the brief tour through its halls. He manages to catch up, though, meeting Clarisse’s stride just in time for her to gesture at a set of double-doors and say, “Beyond these will be your rooms.”
“Rooms?”
“Yes, more than one,” Clarisse says, smiling down at Steve as she leads him past the doors and into a sitting room. A group of people are already gathered there. Most of them are adults, but a few younger children are playing with a Lego set in the corner and a girl and boy his age are standing with the adults. “These are your personal staff members.”
Before Steve can say anything, one of the women steps forward, her smile warm and her face framed by her brown hair. “It’s nice to meet you, Your Highness. My name is Joyce. I’ll coordinate your schedule and make sure your rooms are taken care of. My husband, Jim, will be the head of your security team, and my eldest son, Jonathan, will be one of your playmates,” she says, pointing to her husband and then the boy his age.
“Feel free to call me Hopper, Your Highness,” her husband says.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Jonathan adds, smiling politely in a way that Steve painfully understands as fake and forced.
Joyce steps back, and a black woman steps forward. “My name is Sue. I’ll be in charge of your education. That means I’ll be arranging your tutors, making sure your lessons match what a child your age should be learning, and overseeing your Royal Education with Her Majesty. My husband, Charles, will be your science tutor.”
Steve glances at Charles when he waves and nods in greeting. His smile, at least, seems more genuine than Jonathan’s was, and Sue is so straightforward that Steve finds it refreshing. 
The last woman steps forward. She’s a little heavier than the other two, and she’s wearing an apron that has stains smeared across it. “Wonderful to meet you, Your Highness. I’m Claudia. I’ll be in charge of your diet and medical needs. If you’re allergic to anything or just plain hate certain foods, let me know.”
She steps back, leaving only the young girl. With a grin, she moves to stand in front of Steve and holds her hand out. “Name’s Robin,” she says, “I’m supposed to be your friend, but Her Majesty and I’ve got an agreement that I can ditch you if you suck. If I stick around, I’ll be trained by Hopper to be your personal guard.”
It’s so sudden and blunt that Steve can’t stop his grin as he takes Robin’s hand and shakes once. “To make things fair,” he says, “I should get to ditch you, too.”
Her eyes light up, and Steve thinks he’s done something right, which is an odd but welcome feeling. She lets go of his hand but stays by his side, standing close enough that their shoulders brush as Clarisse gestures for Joyce to take over the tour. He’s introduced to the children playing with Legos first, bombarded with their names (Dustin, Will, El, Lucas, and Erica) and which parents they belong to, before moving on to the rooms. 
In total, he has five: the sitting room, a classroom, a small library, an empty room that he can do whatever he’d like with, and his bedroom. The bedroom has its own bathroom with a shower attached, but there are extra bathrooms in the other rooms, too. He’d count his closet as another room entirely, but he’s not ready to admit he really has six rooms. 
He’s still too overwhelmed by the giant bed and the rooms that all belong to him and this group of people that will always be around him. He turns to Clarisse, ready to thank her, when she smiles at him and says, “There is one more thing.”
Something else? There’s more? What more could there possibly be? What else could he be given? Steve watches as she walks to the door that leads into the bathroom, steps inside, and comes back out holding something that squirms slightly in her arms. 
She quickly deposits the thing in Steve’s arms, and he stares wide-eyed at the Rottweiler puppy that starts sniffing at his hands and neck. “What?” he asks.
“She’s yours, Steve. Rottweilers are very loyal dogs, so she’ll stay by your side. They’re also loyal and protective. Once she’s grown, she’ll keep you safe, too.”
“What am I then, chopped liver?” Robin asks, pouting slightly as she looks at the dog. She leans closer to it and yelps when she gets licked. 
Steve can’t help laughing, holding the dog closer to his chest. “Does she have a name?” he asks.
“Yeah! It’s Dart!”
Steve looks over his shoulder at Dustin, meeting his curly hair and slightly gummy smile. Next to him, Claudia flushes slightly and hurriedly says, “You don’t need to listen to him, Your Highness. You can name her whatever you’d like.”
“No, I think Dart is good,” Steve replies, looking down at the dog and gently scratching behind her ears. She perks up, her entire body wiggling with excitement, and Steve feels something hopeful and optimistic settle in his chest.
--------
Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added to future parts!)
@y4r3luv
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undercoverbastard · 7 months
Text
Judging a Derek by His Cover
“Seriously? You have to ask?” Stiles asked, in a bit of a disbelieving tone. “I mean I-... have you seen you? Resisting you sounds impossible, Derek, I mean seriously. I don’t think anyone in their right mind would tell you no if you gave them even a second look that’s- that’s impossible, you’re-”
Derek had already begun to tune out, a sick feeling crawling from the pit of his stomach upwards. He had grabbed for his shoes, fumbling slightly as he slid them on, in the middle of Stiles’ rambling. Before the other could continue, Derek waved away the rest with a nod.
“Right, right - you’re not… blind,” Derek interrupted. Stiles seemed a bit stunned at the overly neutral tone. Moving past Stiles without looking him properly in the eye, Derek mumbled about needing to get ready. Stiles attempted to stop him, his voice going low once the door opened, but it was of no use.
+.+.+
OR: a fic from the vaults, inspired by modern-day royalty au, derek’s penchant for being sought after just for his looks, and im not sure what else was going on in my brain at the time tbh
Word Count: 4387
———
“I have to get ready,” Derek said, pushing himself up and out of the bed. He sighed, sitting on the edge, staring at his hands a bit blankly. He wished he could freeze time - stay in moments like these. These moments are stolen in between chores and tasks, family and staff. He didn’t want to have to leave.
“Oh?” Stiles asked, stretching out lazily, tucking his hands behind his head. “What’s on the agenda today, sir prince?”
The tone was teasing but it made Derek cringe. Another reminder. He didn’t hate his position or his family or his people or any of it - he loved Beacon and his family was amazing and he adored being able to be a part of what made all of it. But, his position - his title - came with limitations. Expectations.
“Some gathering,” Derek mumbled, ducking his head a bit lower, “my mom says it’s in celebration of the peace treaties - ten years this week. But…”
“But…?” Stiles prompted, moving to curl behind Derek, his chin resting on a pillow as he gazed up at the other’s face. Derek cut his eyes to the side, letting the slightest of smiles curve across his lips before it fell off again. That was another one of Stiles’ talents - his ability to make Derek laugh and smile, no matter the day or its events.
“But,” Derek gathered a deep breath, “she’s been hinting at… socializing, at dating. She keeps bringing up names and countries and heirs and… I don’t know. She keeps mentioning Braeden and just…”
Stiles moved away, crawling up to a sitting position himself. Derek cast a look back at the other, waiting for some sort of response. It took a minute, Stiles facing away from him and seemingly fiddling with his shirt and hair. When he turned back he had a wide grin, cheeky and teasing.
“Oh you’ll do fine, Der, who could ever resist you? Huh?” Stiles said, giving him a nod of appreciation. It made Derek’s throat dry up, a reminder creeping in.
“Resist me…” Derek repeated a bit dumbly, staring now to the side of Stiles’ head, looking unseeingly out the window on the opposite side of the room. He heard Stiles give a huff of laughter, saw the shaking of his head from his peripheral.
“Obviously,” Stiles scoffed, “they’d have to be blind!” And that’s when Derek’s blood ran a bit cold, color draining from his face ever so slightly. “Anyways, I should - uh- get going. Let you get ready for the party and all that.”
Stiles stood up, fingers carding through his hair before tugging at and smoothing down his shirt. They’d laid lazily in the spare room for hours, taking turns carding fingers through one another’s hair, biting lingering kisses into one another’s lips, straddling each other’s laps as they got lost in the quietness disturbed only by soft groans and gasps. It had been bliss, those couple hours together. It was one of the only times Derek didn’t feel like he was on display or out of place to some degree. It felt right. Comfortable.
Staying quiet, Derek watched as Stiles stood up, slipping his shoes back on and fretting over his clothes again. He was always busy, mind and body in constant motion even if it didn’t make sense. It used to infuriate Derek when Stiles first began working in the library - he could never focus with the other’s mumbles and murmurs and humming and moving. It was chaotic in the smallest of ways. Now, though, he felt restless if Stiles didn’t move - his skin felt prickled if the younger man stayed still too long, a wrongness about it.
Before Stiles could open the door and sneak a look outside before he darted out, Derek asked, “Why didn’t you?”
Stiles paused, looking at the other in confusion and a half tilt of his head. “Why… why didn’t you resist me or - turn me down? Why?” Derek elaborated. His voice held steady and sounded normal but his heart was lodged in his throat and the tips of his fingers felt numb.
The question at least gave Stiles pause. He stepped back closer in the room, an incredulous look on his face once his mind seemed to catch up. He began waving, hands exaggeratedly emphasizing the length of Derek’s form still sitting on the bed before he gave an answering huff.
“Seriously? You have to ask?” Stiles asked, in a bit of a disbelieving tone. “I mean I-... have you seen you? Resisting you sounds impossible, Derek, I mean seriously. I don’t think anyone in their right mind would tell you no if you gave them even a second look that’s- that’s impossible, you’re-”
Derek had already begun to tune out, a sick feeling crawling from the pit of his stomach upwards. He had grabbed for his shoes, fumbling slightly as he slid them on, in the middle of Stiles’ rambling. Before the other could continue, Derek waved away the rest with a nod.
“Right, right - you’re not… blind,” Derek interrupted. Stiles seemed a bit stunned at the overly neutral tone. Derek always spoke in an even manner, known for being a bit brasher in his tone than others but fairly neutral and even overall - it was a mark of the Hale family, after all. To be balanced in all ways. He couldn’t risk being too nice or too rude. He may toe the line of overly curt and brash but he was never outright cold with his words. But even he could hear it - the change in his voice. It was exceptionally vague - not a hint of brashness. He was as even as his mother in her political discussions - unreadable.
Moving past Stiles without looking him properly in the eye, Derek mumbled about needing to get ready. Stiles attempted to stop him, his voice going low once the door opened, but it was of no use. Even the soft touch to Derek’s shoulder as he stepped out slid off with just a single step, allowing the steadily growing wall between them to commence.
Derek tried not to think about it. Shoved the thoughts out of his mind as he left the mostly empty hall and trailed back to his own room. He shouldn’t have thought Stiles would be interested in anything else besides his looks. It was, after all, his saving grace. After Kate’s stunt years back, most people averted their eyes - unable to meet Derek’s. It lingered with some, but it only took a year or two at most before he was once more a display.
Giggling visitors from other countries bashfully complimented him on how handsome he was, eyes raking up and down his body at parties and celebrations. Tabloids posted dozens of photos whenever he left the palace - endless remarks of his looks and how well clothes fit him and how others were sure the good looks didn’t stop at just his face pouring from every media outlet in the country and even in others.
He was used to it. He smiled his practiced smile, knew when to bow his head and murmur thanks. He was used to the squeezes to his bicep when being requested to dance and the lingering eyes of his partners. But that was it. Even Kate had said so when she still played the part of smitten girlfriend.
She’d tease him for his quiet nature and his lack of ability to feed into normal conversations. He could talk policy as needed and he had a plethora of books surrounding philosophers, history, and even art at his disposal - but they were drab topics outside of negotiations and proper business. And even if the analysis of Picasso’s The Old Guitarist was one Derek found interesting and showed the necessity of the arts and their value to civilizations old and new, Kate didn’t want to hear about it. Besides, even with his most impassioned topics on the table he still was a man of few words. Part of that came from being the son of the reigning Queen of Beacon, another part came from Kate’s backhanded nature.
Either way, it didn’t matter. Derek earned his keep with his looks. He was a nice face to look at and a figure that harnessed desire. Either no one cared what else he might be able to offer or his lack of personality drove them back to their distanced gazes. Just because Stiles could quote at least one line from every book Derek has ever picked up since he started working in the library and just because Stiles had enough words for five people let alone a conversation of two didn’t mean he wouldn’t be the same.
It was to be expected.
+.+.+
Several hours later found Derek in one of his more casual attires but one fit for a prince nonetheless. The party and celebration were not one for hosting political affairs - they were for rejoicing. Sure, it was shared amongst several other visiting countries, and the sprawling room and subsequent halls were filled with faces far and wide, but none of them came to talk about further negotiations, treaties, or trade options. They all came to eat, dance, and laugh - embracing the decade’s worth of peace since King Christopher took his father’s place in Silvenia and ended the wars and trade blocks.
Derek stood off to the side, doing his best to obscure himself as much as possible in the throng of people. He’d eaten, he’d talked to his family, and he’d even danced with several people. He had done his share, he thought. This was meant to be enjoyed, and he enjoyed being alone.
He couldn’t, however, forever hide from Braeden. He’d seen his mother walking with her, laughing. His mother’s eyes seemed to search the crowd, trying to find him, and he did his best to slink away before she caught a whiff of his location. He’d done a good job so far, but he knew it was a fruitless endeavor to try and avoid her all night. It had only been two hours and the celebration would more than likely go well into the night. His mother would find him eventually.
Musing the odds of success if he were to try and slink away to his room or possibly to the gardens for a couple of hours to avoid detection a bit longer, Derek zoned out momentarily - unaware of his surroundings. He acknowledged the movement of others, the change in music, but it was all background noise in his mind. Which is why it was the perfect time for him to be found.
Just not by his mother, it seemed.
“Derek?” Stiles asked, gently laying a hand on his arm, eyebrows scrunched up in concern. “You okay?”
Shaking himself out of his clouded thoughts, Derek nodded and went to pull away from Stiles’ touch - planning to test out his garden escape. He should’ve been looking out for the man. After all, Stiles has been a regular attendee of nearly all the Hale family’s gatherings and parties for over 10 years. His father was now the Head of Palace Guards and his mother had once overseen the library he now worked in. Stiles’ presence was all but guaranteed between his two parents both working in the palace on a daily basis. Derek had just distantly hoped he wouldn’t approach him here - similar to all previous events.
“Then you wouldn’t mind me asking for a dance, would you?” Stiles asked, his eyebrows now unscrunched, one raised in question as he held out his hand. Derek stared for a moment, bewildered.
In all the years Stiles had attended these gatherings, he’d never once asked to dance with Derek - he rarely spoke to him. He’d danced with Cora once or twice, the two having been closer as kids since they were the same age and Cora deciding Stiles was the perfect partner for her scheming ploys. But even now in recent times, since Derek and Stiles had begun their… whatever it was between them, he had never asked. It had been nearly a year of sneaking into hidden library corners, empty guest rooms, and ducking into stable stalls - stealing kisses, fingers unbuttoning shirts, hands roaming skin. In that same time over a handful of parties, political events, and other such gatherings had come to pass of all different magnitudes and Stiles had all but avoided Derek.
Cautiously, Derek put down the drink in his hand and laid the other in Stiles’ open palm. He let the other pull him seamlessly into the throng of moving bodies. The music wasn’t slow enough for proper dance steps but it wasn’t fast enough to deter other couples from swaying and moving across the floor together. Blessedly, Stiles moved into the crowd and guided one of Derek’s hands to his waist, clasping the other in his hand while Stiles laid his second hand on Derek’s shoulder.
No one really led in this dance, but Stiles letting him control the speed and direction was a godsend as he was sure to stumble if he had to follow. Derek was sure he had Cora to thank for that, as he recalled his younger sister demanding to be the lead and making a young, 11-year-old Stiles learn to follow in all their dance numbers. He recalls hiding smirks and laughs behind his hand and drinks, watching the two kids stumble about when Stiles accidentally went to lead them and Cora stubbornly refused to follow.
He pushed those memories aside, trying to remove the fond film he’s learned to lay over all the memories with Stiles in them. He doesn’t know when he’d begun to do it, but it was harder than he’d expected to try and stop it.
“You left kinda fast earlier,” Stiles finally murmured, voice low as his eyes danced around the room. They got a couple of second glances, those who knew of Stiles’ position a bit surprised to find the two dancing together. Sure, he danced with Cora over the years, but that was largely when they were kids and it was cute - something for the adults to coo over and take pictures of.
“Yes,” Derek answered simply. He didn’t know what Stiles wanted and he preferred to keep his cards close to his chest. Stiles huffed at the minimal response, a fond eye roll following it shortly after.
“Okay, thanks for that,” Stiles teased, “what I meant is why? Did- did I say something to upset you? Did something happen - are you okay?”
Even in shorter sentences, Stiles still somehow rambled. His tempo was a bit too fast, his tone of voice wavering and pitching in odd places, teeth biting at his lips as he came up with a dozen more thoughts - his face mirroring his reaction to each one in live action. Derek quelled the amusement he found in the mannerisms.
“Just wanted to leave.”
At this, Stiles seemed to stutter in movement, feet delayed and causing the two to stumble momentarily. Both of Derek’s hands moved to hold him at the waist, righting him before he could fall while Stiles’ hands both gripped Derek’s shoulders to help anchor himself. They found themselves closer together, the stance becoming a bit more personal and intimate than before.
“Leave… me?” Stiles whispered quietly, looking over Derek’s shoulder. Derek stayed quiet, unsure how to answer without giving too much away. “Is it because of what I said? That I’m attracted to you? Did that upset you?” It was Derek’s turn to bring a stutter to their movements, going rigid. He thankfully composed himself much quicker, only setting them off by a step at most that was easily regained.
“I don’t have an issue with you finding me attractive, Stiles,” Derek sighed, “like you said, who isn’t.”
It wasn’t a question. But he couldn’t control the bite that came out with the last two words, a bit of a sarcastic drawl underlining his words. At this, Stiles snapped his eyes to the side, looking questioningly at his dance partner. Derek didn’t explain any further, instead avoiding direct eye contact as best he could while still dancing.
“Is that…” Stiles’ words faltered, dying off. Even without looking at his face, Derek could see his thoughts play out. He swear he could hear the gears grinding in his head as he raced through all possible questions, answers, scenarios, and each of their meanings in a span of a few seconds. It would never cease to impress and exasperate Derek how Stiles thought just as quickly as he spoke - often one blending into the other without filter or regard for how his words came out.
“Der,” Stiles said, his voice suddenly a bit louder and demanding. Derek just raised his eyebrows in response, gaze still not meeting Stiles’. The younger boy huffed, hides sliding up from Derek’s shoulders to grip either side of his face and force Derek to look at him before he continued speaking. “What I said was true. I don’t know any sane person who would turn you down, but - that’s not the only reason I’m attracted to you. You know that, right? You have to know that.”
Derek swallowed the lump in his throat, giving a partial shrug to try and show his indifference on the matter. It seemed to be the wrong response, however, when Stiles growled out low in frustration, his fingers digging in a bit more into Derek’s skin and demanding his attention.
“You have to know,” he said, incredulous. “You think - what? All this time I just wanted some casual… fling? That I just saw a pretty face and that was all it took? A pretty face and I spend hours sneaking away from my work, hiding from my dad, skirting around guards?”
Stiles paused, but not long enough for Derek to actually respond. He shook his head as if in disbelief before continuing, “Is that it? You thought I just wanted to fuck around with you? Jesus Christ, how shallow do you think I am? Better yet! How stupid?! If I just wanted someone for their looks why would I go after a prince? A prince, Derek. I know we’re evolved and all but I’m sure your mom would still approve a hanging or beheading or some other medieval offing of me, fuck.”
Derek couldn’t help but crack a wry grin at Stiles’ vomit of words, head ducking down slightly as he tamped down on his laughter. The idea of his mother not only approving but requesting a beheading seemed comical - the woman was terse and poised, levelheaded beyond compare, but she was also the same woman who cried over Animal Planet at 9 PM on a Tuesday after seeing a crocodile eat a baby zebra. She blubbered about ‘the poor baby’ for half an hour, squeezing Cora into a smushed hug against her chest and all but breaking Derek’s bones as she held his hand. It was a hilarious thought, all things considered.
Stiles’ noise of exasperation broke him from his daddling thoughts, surprising Derek. Another thing Stiles was good at; even without trying, he got Derek lost in his own rambling thoughts - Stiles’ jabber and ranting offering endless avenues of thought and consideration, even if absurd. It was a nice change of pace, having something to ponder and get lost in. Something that was entertaining and not all too important that demanded his full focus or response all at once.
“Derek, I am about to make a damn fool of myself and if someone overhears this and then sees you walk away from me I think I’ll be forced to exile myself but, Jesus fuck , here it goes,” Stiles let out a long breath, eyes closing briefly before reopening and settling on Derek as if he were a target. “I am in-fucking-love with you. I love how you speak with your eyebrows and eye rolls better than any person can with words. I love how you obsessively read fucking historical books and pour over goddamn poetry and art journals. I love how you get spaced out when we talk about centuries-old plays and hundred-year-old paintings as if you can’t comprehend what they mean and are stunned by their mere existence. I love how you talk and sound like you’re thinking of murdering me and then just- laugh! And god, your laugh - I still can’t figure out if it’s your smile or your laugh that’s my favorite. And, fuck- I just… I can’t think of a single thing I don’t obsessively think about when it comes to you. And of course, of course, you’re fucking beautiful - work of art, walking god, all the usuals - but I… I just love being with you.”
They stopped dancing, coming to a halt in the middle of the mass of people. Derek is sure the song changed, people who still lingered a bit further away now going through similar steps and movements he couldn’t be bothered to recall or put a name to. He also knew they were being watched - hell, he’s sure half a dozen people caught at least half of that spiel, with Stiles’ voice raising in tone and pitch and volume like crazy throughout as if he couldn’t control it.
He felt a bit punch drunk, in a way. He didn’t know if he should be embarrassed that Stiles caught him wistfully zoning out over paintings or if he should laugh at the fact that Stiles has somehow done what not even his family has by being able to read and understand his responses just by facial expressions alone. It felt like a weight had been removed from his shoulders but his stomach felt heavy, stirring with nerves.
“You love me?” he finally asked. Stiles groaned, smacking his head against the curve of his own arm that rested against Derek’s shoulder. He was muttering and cursing quietly.
“I only repeated it about a hundred times but, yes. Yes - I love you. I am in love with you, I will figure out all the euphemisms to say it and learn it in as many languages as I can. Hell, I’ll do it old school - find a fucking boombox and sta-”
Stiles’ remaining rant cut off as Derek pulled his chin up, pressing a harsh kiss against the other’s lips. It wasn’t soft or biting, just… hard. Solid. Reassuring. Stiles helped quell the bruising press of lips by softly dragging a thumb over Derek’s cheek, the gesture making the kiss soften until they both were pulling away. Stiles looked awestruck, eyes dancing and sliding side to side to take in the room before ultimately landing once more on Derek’s face, a pleased grin taking over his face as their eyes met.
“I’ve been stupidly in love with you ever since you began singing that awful song when I tried to explain what a Blue Period was and then I kept humming it all week because it was stuck in my head,” Derek offered as an explanation for his actions. Stiles paused, eyebrows pulled together in consideration for a second before he broke out into loud laughter, probably remembering the exact scene from two years prior. If no one saw them before they surely had garnered enough people’s attention by now.
“I think I’ve been in love with you since you told Harris off for making me cry during the Polka,” Stiles grinned. It was Derek’s turn to bark out a laugh, louder than he had laughed in a while. He remembered that, it was 8 years ago - when Stiles and Cora were still learning various dances. Cora had to learn for the sake of her title and appearance, Stiles was just the poor culprit she wrangled into the mess and who could barely keep time with the three-step beat, leading to lots of stumbling and Harris berating him before Derek growled out a retort about being so pathetic to bully a child.
Derek remembered it as a scarring experience, Stiles refusing to dance for two weeks after. Stiles, however, decided it was the moment in which he’d fall in love with a then-angry, overly private 16-year-old that barely even spoke to him. Derek wasn’t sure which moment of realization was more absurd between them.
“You were thirteen !”
“And I was in love!”
It got quiet between the two, both of them just grinning at the other. Neither bothered to realize just how quiet it had gotten, or how much space had been carved out around them during their conversation. They were lost in their own world, ignorant to the rest of the room around them.
It wasn’t until a minute or two passed when a cleared throat caught their attention, making them realize the quieter atmosphere and their center stage set up among the crowd. Talia - Queen Talia - stood beside them, a knowing smirk on her face as she regarded them with a raised eyebrow, hands clasped in front of her.
Stiles gave a half-choked squawk in realization while Derek bowed his head, his cheeks heating in embarrassment. They separated abruptly, standing side by side to face Talia head-on.
“So,” Talia broke the silence, “I don’t think I’ll be introducing you to Braeden anytime soon. Seeing as you already have a boyfriend, hm?”
Stiles choked again, some mangled word dying in his throat, while Derek simply looked up at his mom with a deer-in-the-headlights look. When she gave a pointed tilt of her head, eyes shooting to Stiles as the younger man seemed paralyzed on the spot, Derek knew she was encouraging him to confirm. To say something .
“Yes,” he finally managed to pull out, his hand reaching out to grasp Stiles’ and squeezing it in question. When he got an immediate squeeze in response, he gave his mother a wide, genuine smile. “I’m dating Stiles.”
With that, Talia seemed pleased. She clapped her hands, announced that further celebration was to commence, and then left them as they were. It was oddly anti-climatic, the room returning to its usual activity and volume as before - only sneaky side glances were thrown their way in curiosity. It was easy for Derek to pull Stiles back to the outskirts of the room, however, the two of them were unable to stop glancing at each other and sharing smiles.
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ilys00ga · 7 months
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bodyguard boyfriend to the rescue.
synopsis: your comfort person, aka your secret boyfriend, saves you from falling into the abyss, once again.
genre: angst, fluff.
A/N: this is not my first time writing something like this, but it is my first (very random) public post of such. I hope this is decent enough, I will maybe post more, but I'm not sure. until then, here's this.
warnings: anxiety attacks and overthinking. no explicit mentions, tho, just dark thoughts.
_____________________________
the walls of the room stare back at you as you sit on the floor. body so stiff and brain so busy running nonstop. almost feels like it would pop legs out and escape out of your scull at any given moment as you lean your head on the edge of the bed. too tired to blink, too tired to move a limb or even get into bed and give your body its long desired rest and warmth.
days like these have always been your most despised. but as hard as you try, you can't make it stop.
nasty thoughts keep on going on and about, keep on getting nastier and darker.
what is it that I want the most? what is it that I dream of the most?
quick puffs of air start leaving your lungs as they run through your mouth, yet you can't seem to breathe. you don't know how to breathe.
what the hell am I even doing. I'm not good at anything. everything I have ever fought for was never by choice. what the hell am I going to do next?
you try and take deep breaths, you really do, but the white ceiling is becoming way too blurry for you liking. everything surrounding you in the room feels too far away from you as the floor is getting too cold and hard.
you try to remind yourself, I'm still young. this can't be just it. I'm too young, I have a lover, I have power, I have much more to look forward to, to wish and dream for..
you try telling yourself that it's gonna be okay, everything will work out just well for me, all I have to do is wait.
but-
you blink. once, twice... you blink as hard as you can as you feel the tears that have been lingering heavily at the corner of your eyes running free. you blink as you try to snap back to reality, to your room, to your bed and to your floor. you blink.
just then, the sound of your phone arises, screaming loud and clear as if saying: here, let me guide you. listen to me and snap out of it.
the weight that's been sinking the back of your head to the bed finally lightens, allowing you to lift your head as you keep on panting for air.
you slowly reach for the phone, praying that whoever's calling will help ease your pain. and your prayers are answered immediately as you feel a ghost of a relieved smile starting to creep up to the corners of your lips.
yoongi..
your mouth feels terribly heavy as you put the phone to your ear, unable to speak while your heart beats so fast and loud in your chest.
"hey...you alright?"
there it is, his voice oh so warm and delicate. so gentle and calm. he is probably worried sick as he realises this is yet another one of your episodes. oh how he hates those episodes.
the caring tone does nothing but fill your eyes with freshly new tears as it embraces your aching heart. it is quite a complex combination of feelings his existence provides to your soul. incredibly healing, yet dangerously consuming.
still unable to utter a word, you close your eyes as you desperately sniff one more time, and he hums. oh, how good you are for me.
"I'm on my way. I'll bring your favorite meal with me as well. we can lay together after filling our bellies and then you'll tell me what it is that's bothering you. a princess should never carry a burden with her."
you smile as you hang up. he never fails to amaze you.
and so, you just wait. sitting in your quarters as you wait for your bodyguard's arrival. for his hands to wrap so tenderly around you as he soothes your sore bones. for his breath to bathe you in warmth and comfort as he pulls you closer to him, whispering words of pure love to your awaiting ears, for your tired brain to listen and oblige as his knight speaks to it.
and you wait for yoongi to bring his love to you.
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landoom · 1 month
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So today I did a little something for the fic I finished writing yesterday...
More to come when I'll post the fic when it's beta read and edited 😉
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syntheticavenger · 9 months
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new rules - fourteen
Has it really been a year since I wrote for this fic? Sheesh!
As a reminder, I no longer have a tag list. Please follow @synths-library​ - that is where I reblog my new content!
word count: 2.5K
warnings: 18+ ONLY. Language, mentions of regicide, mentions of violence, angst, mentions of cheating (not on the Reader), vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), talks of virginity and sexuality.
prince! steve rogers x princess reader
amazing moodboard by @pictures-inmy-mind | divider by @firefly-graphics​
new rules masterlist
summary | done with his daughter’s antics, a king makes a decree that she will marry one of his king’s guards, whether she wants to or not.
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Grace peers outside, the handwritten letter crushed in her hand, aware of the person standing behind her.
“Are you here to give me your apologies?” Her voice is controlled, even as she feels herself losing the battle with her composure.
“Would it make it better?” 
Your father stands behind her, eyes focusing on the letter in her hand. Grace lifts her head higher, breathing in deeply, her back to him still.
“No. I’d much prefer you tell me that you told me so. Do you believe this is the best course of action? Removing a queen from her kingdom?”
“Better than her being dragged out by her husband’s mistress and his bastard son.”
Her breath catches in her throat at his words, the letter fluttering to the ground. Her forehead presses against the glass, her exhale fogging up the window.
“I always thought that I did everything right. I followed the rules to the letter, Father. I gave up what I wanted for a title. A marriage that joined our two kingdoms together because I was the oldest and I needed to set an example. I have always been the golden child and now, because of a scandal, I have to leave everything I’ve gained? Do you not see how insulting that is for me? For my girls? I wanted a life of my own and I almost had that once but this… this was my duty and I did it.”
“Do you not trust your father? It is for the best.”
“The best for whom?” Grace whirls around, tears in her eyes. “For your precious other daughters? The ones who share your very blood?”
“This is not what this is about. It is about the strength of our family, despite the circumstances you have found yourself in. You are my daughter, through and through. If I did not have the amount of love for you that I have had since I laid eyes on you, since the moment I knew your mother was going to have you, I would not be standing here to help you out of this scandal.”
“It is his scandal to bear! Not mine!”
“Then you will never understand what it means to be a queen. Nor will you ever understand the amount of slander and libel that will be lobbied in your direction once they hear he has decided to move in his new family. I will handle this, make no mistake, my child. For when you hurt, I hurt. When my family is broken, I will exact revenge, I promise you that. I promise my granddaughters the same. You will move from this house, to Codmare Cottage with the girls.”
“Father, I -”
“Now, Grace. I will have your things packed up but you must go.”
Sniffling, Grace pushes past her father, leaving him to pick up the letter and examine it, before he lowers his head in dismay.
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Thor peeks in on Brunn, her weapons laid out on the counter, freshly cleaned and repaired. Without even turning around, she places her hands on the counter.
“What do you want?”
“There’s a briefing in a little. Queen Grace is heading to Codmare within the next few hours.”
“Noted,” Brunn says quietly. “Anything else?”
“Yes.”
She turns to look over her shoulder, Thor swallowing hard at the sight of her. She’s never cried before in front of him, let alone show any emotion but he can see her teeth running over her lower lip, as if she wants to say something.
“Will you be assisting her?” Brunn asks him.
Thor shakes his head at her question.
“No. She will be assigned to Sam. I told you, Brunnhilde, it was in the past.”
“So that makes it okay?”
“No, it doesn’t,” Thor answers her, taking a step inside. “I want you to understand that just because it’s the past doesn’t mean I turn my back on it. It isn’t a closed door, something that remains off limits. It won’t be until I can make it up to you.”
“Make it up to me?” Brunn scoffs, nodding her head in disbelief. “Does she know that you’re finished? That you can just walk away like it never happened? Does she know about you and her younger sister?”
“She knows I’m finished,” Thor responds. “I let her know in the best way I could. I’m sorry, Brunnhilde. I can sit with these feelings that I have, the feelings I have for you and reconcile that what I’ve done was wrong and that I have hurt you. I know that.”
“Good,” Brunn shoots back, turning her back on him. “Then you’ll know me well enough that I need to be alone.”
“I do. Sam will be around in an hour or so to settle in and get information. I’ve told him to come to you if you have any questions on what she would require.”
“Where will you be?”
“On a task.”
When she can no longer feel him behind her, Brunn exhales a breath, focusing on the weapons on the table in front of her.
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“I’m not supposed to be here, you know,” Steve says against your forehead, your eyes closing at the feel of his arms around you. “Your father would have my head for this.”
“Would he?” you whisper, nuzzling his beard before kissing him. “I believe this is your proper place.”
“Not yet,” he purrs against your neck. “Though your pictures did you no justice when I see you in person, you brat.”
His fingers slip between your legs, his fingers inching up inside you.
“I can’t tell what you like better,” he wonders, your back arching slightly when his lips kiss your collarbone. “Earlier it was my mouth… maybe it’s both?”
“Maybe.” You shiver, feeling him move down lower, his hands seemingly everywhere and nowhere all at once, enough to make you dizzy with how he knows just where to touch, where to kiss that you’re uncertain that he doesn’t have a map of your body somewhere.
Or, he’s just that good, something your brain realizes, shutting down the jealous response that threatens to rear its ugly head. None of that matters now, not when he’s spent the weekend in your bed, teaching you new things and learning what you like, stopping short of giving you what you truly want. Lia has made it seem like heaven and earth but you’re not sure if it could be better than his hands.
“S-Steve,” you keen, your thighs in his hands, his tongue dipping into your entrance.
“Hmm?”
“Oh my god,” you pant, Steve nipping at the sensitive skin.
“It’s Steve,” he teases before his fingers find a rhythm that leaves you breathless.
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King Adam opens the door to his office, a man sitting in his chair, looking up in surprise.
“Ah, King Adam,” the tall, slender man purrs with a smile and nod. “Lovely to see you in the flesh.”
“I must say that you are bold. Last time I heard news of you, it was that you were locked away, awaiting a trial, was it? I don’t think King Joseph takes kindly to one kidnapping a princess, lest it be one that is in the sights of his prodigal son.”
“A mere piece of a puzzle, I assure you, Your Majesty,” Loki responds with a grin. “Though I assure you that no trial can hold me. I created the narrative for Brokelen and I simply do not any longer.”
“They know you as a traitor to the crown.”
“And you know me as a keeper of your secrets,” Loki reminds him. “Or at least, I was, until you decided to think with your other head. How do you think your people will take your mistress? Your bastard son? To install them into the palace is quite bold, Your Majesty. Some may say foolish.”
“What I do is my business. My wife is frigid, a bastard of her own name. What is another?”
“Precisely why I am here. You tell me what you know and I will craft your relationship into a more… palatable story.”
“You’re a wanted man.”
“And you’re about to be a disgraced king. Which will it be? Lose what little respect you have on the world stage or keep your secret.”
“Grace knows already.”
“So she does. Banished to Codmore Cottage, I believe. The family is doing its own damage control. Not that I can blame them. She’s done much to bring shame to her family.”
“So have you,” King Adam sneers. “You’re worse than I am.”
“No, Your Majesty. We are simply cut from the same cloth. I’m slightly tailored better than you, of course. It’s quite simple. I want Brokelen to fall and you want to keep your secret from getting out. We can come to an accord, I am sure.”
“What is it?”
Loki stands, extending his hand.
“That’s for me to create and for you to follow along. For now, keep your mistress and child where they are. Let me handle the rest.”
King Adam shakes it, Loki nodding.
“Lay low,” Loki instructs. “Not a peep out of you, Your Majesty, until I say so.”
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The door opens for Grace, a handsome man standing at the door, offering his hand. There are no photographers, no paparazzi yelling her name. Only the sound of the water fountain in the background, the crunch of her heels on the gravel when she finally stands.
Codmore Cottage seems smaller than she remembers, the lights on upstairs as she’s well aware that is where her daughters are. Humiliation hits her when she’s led up the steps, thinking of what she’s left behind.
There’s only so much emotion one can keep inside, the door opening to the well decorated space. This is where she will call home until she can find a suitable replacement, even if her father has told her that it may take a while. It feels surreal to know she’s removed from a place that she once only dreamed about, only to have it cruelly stolen from her.
This man that introduces himself to her as Sam isn’t Thor, the comfort she once sought out but now knows will never happen again.
He said it himself in writing.
Perhaps the apology was a deathblow to her pride, Thor putting an explanation to paper as to why it was and always had been a mistake. Through his words, she can tell that someone else is on his mind, one that cannot compare to her – though it sounds like he doesn’t want to even begin to try. 
“Your aides will be here tomorrow,” Sam reminds her gently, Grace simply nodding at his words. “Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime?”
“I want to be alone.”
“Of course. I’ll be outside if you need.”
Once the door closes, Grace lets herself cry, ripping off the wedding ring from her finger and throwing it against the wall in a fit of anger, covering her mouth to keep from crying.
Exiled.
It’s a heavy word, one that she repeats over and over until she can’t hold it in any longer. Her lapses in judgment ended as quickly as they had come. You would never have to endure such a thing, such a rampant disrespect as she.
Neither would Lia.
Speaking to the press is forbidden, something Grace knows is completely off limits and yet she yearns to tell her side of the story, to accuse her husband of the same cruelty that she has inflicted on her own family.
So much to say and no one to say it to that will listen.
“Mother?” comes the voice of one of the girls. “Are you alright?”
“Fine,” Grace answers quickly. “Stay upstairs, my angels. I’ll be up in a moment.”
Patting her pocket, she realizes that she doesn’t have Thor’s letter, her panicked thoughts sending her toward the foyer to search through her purse.
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Steve knocks on the door to your father’s office. It’s early enough for him to know that there is no one else there to answer as his aides aren’t up until another hour.
“Come in,” your father instructs from the other side, Steve opening the door and closing it behind him.
“Your Majesty,” Steve says with a bow of his head.
“This is formal,” your father says with a hint of curiosity in his voice. “And early.”
“I’ve come to tell you that I’m heading out to Brokelen. There’s a threat. Loki escaped his cell and fled.”
“My God,” your father mutters. “What do you need?”
“That’s not why I’m here. I can handle Loki on my own. I’ve come for another matter.”
“Oh?”
Steve places a box on the table, your father looking up at him.
“I want to marry her, Your Majesty. I don’t care where, quite honestly. I just… I know what I feel, former agreements notwithstanding. I would like your permission.”
Your father stands up, pushing the chair back.
“Then you shall have it, my son.”
Steve nods, your father handing him the ring box.
“You must promise me one thing,” your father continues.
“Anything, Your Majesty.”
“You will never crush her spirit the way I did once. Let her be wild, let her be herself. In that, she will be your greatest gift.”
“Of course,” Steve says, emotion overwhelming him for a moment. “Always.”
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You catch Steve leaving your father’s office, following him silently as he heads outside, taking in the first sight of dawn.
“Are you leaving me again?” you ask, Steve’s shoulders slightly dropping at your question.
“For a little.”
“Why?”
“Because there is unfinished business I need to complete.”
“Loki,” you reply with a nod of your head. “I understand.”
“Do you?” Steve asks you, his head turning toward you.
“I do. Whatever you must do, I trust you to return.”
“Trust or order?”
“Order,” you reply, your head held high. “There’s much I haven’t learned yet.”
“Is that only what I am to you, Princess?” Steve cups your face in his hands. “Or more?”
“A lady never tells.”
“You tell me so much without words.”
He winks at you, making you laugh before you hold him closer.
“Do you promise to make it back in one piece?”
“I can’t promise that. I couldn’t keep you safe, myself.”
Reaching up behind you, you unclasp your necklace, letting it fall into his hands.
“What did they used to call it in the old times? A favor?” you tell him, closing your hand over his. “You keep it safe until you come back and I promise to be on my best behavior.”
“I’ll have a surprise for you when I return.”
You nod, reaching up to pull down his collar to kiss him.
“I love surprises.”
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James opens the door to see Brunn standing in front of him, tossing him a bag that he catches square in his chest.
“Where’s the fight?”
“No fight yet,” Brunn says, turning on her heels. “But we’re going to find King Adam. I have an inkling he knows what’s to come.”
“Does Steve know?”
Brunn continues walking, giving a signal to the Valkyrie that are waiting, rounding the corner while James follows.
“Who do you think sent me?”
“You realize that King Adam probably has his army guarding him wherever he is.”
James looks at the contingent of guards that are waiting, their commander in front of them as he nods at Brunn.
“Then it’s a good thing I know exactly where to find him,” Thor answers him.
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sexymilfwitch · 10 months
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Today was a Fairytale
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Parings: Princess!Kate Bishop x Fem!Reader 
Summary: Kate choses she wants to marry y/n after silently admiring her from her castle’s bedroom window
Words: 2197
Note: The title is after a taylor swift song, this is my second fic and idk how i feel about it but i hope everyone who sees it enjoys it!!
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 “Excuse me? Y/N?” I hear in a somewhat quiet voice
I turn around to come face to face with the princess, immediately I go to bow but she stops me once she realizes what I’m doing. 
“No no, please there's no need for that!” Princess Kathrine says as she giggles a little
“Forgive me for my reaction your highness, it's not everyday you run into the prettiest woman in all the lands.” I state as the princess’ cheeks turn a light shade of pink “To what do I owe this extraordinary pleasure of talking to you Princess Kathrine?”
“Please, call me Kate” she insists “I am here because as everyone knows i am to be betrothed soon” a twinge of pink hits her cheeks as she begins speaking again “And as you probably have heard in whispers around the kingdom, i've turned down every suitor who has come to court me.”
“Yes I have heard about you declining them all, but there was talk that you and Princess Maximoff were getting along well” the second i said that her eyes widened as she playfully shook her head
“Wanda? Oh no she's one of my best friends, nothing more.” 
“Princess Kath-” she put a finger up to my mouth to shush me as i went to speak
Removing her finger from me I was met with “Kate, I told you to call me Kate silly.” 
“My apologies Kate but as I was trying to ask, what brings you here?” I questioned “Don't get me wrong, I adore your company and presence. It's just that my bakery is far from the castle and it seems you’re not accompanied by any guards.” Kate blushed and started to smile 
“Did you know that my bedroom window looks perfectly at your bakery?” 
“No your highness, I didn't.”
“Well it does, and I've been watching you from afar for a while. Your breathtaking smile and energetic personality, I realized once my mother started inviting royalty from other kingdoms to court me that none of them would ever be you!” I was a bit taken aback by this information but kept listening to the princess “I know this all sounds a little crazy but I am in love with you!” 
My breath hitched as the princess hid her face in her hands. “What i'm trying to say is that i want to wed you y/n, i want you to come to the castle and court me.” she stated as i stayed silent 
With wide eyes and shaky hands I grabbed one of her hands in mine. “Princess, you don't know who I am, how could you be so sure that you want to be wed to me?” i looked into her eyes “i am only a baker your highness, I feel honored but surely one of your royal suitors would be a far better match for you.” I whispered as i looked away from her
“I know what I want, I am not some child anymore.” she stated “you being a baker and trying to look out for me is even more endearing y/n, i get that this is an outlandish thing to spring onto you and i'm truly sorry, but if you just come to the palace and let me show you who i am i promise you won't regret it.” 
As I looked back towards her she sent me a small smile “I will come to the castle” her smile grew a little “but I will not wed you right away.” as her smile started to fade i began to talk again “i want to know you, learn who you are. I'm not the type to jump into marriage, your highness. I would like for you to know who I am and for me to know you before we wed.” that gorgeous smile made its way back onto her face.
“Oh lovely! You will not regret this y/n!” she looked so happy as i smiled and hoped i wouldn't regret this. 
It had been a month since our first meeting. I was brought to the castle the next morning, Kate had accompanied the driver saying how she didnt want me to ride alone. The past weeks have been hectic, lots of people taking my measurements and teaching me what fork was for what dish. Why were there so many utensils on a table? Honestly it seemed absurd. I had barely gotten to spend time with Kate to learn about her although I had started to warm up to her, what little time i did get with her was mostly her asking me about myself.  
I was broken from my thoughts as Kate walked in and grabbed my hand as she wordlessly pulled me along with her “Kate? Where are you taking me?” 
She turned her head to the side a little to look and smirk at me “I’m taking you out, you've been cooped up in this castle too long!” 
I smiled and giggled out “Kate, I have to go to a fitting soon!”
“Too bad! I'm taking you to meet our head guard, he's also my best friend but he won't admit to us being friends, so don't listen to anything he says." I laughed at that last part and she smiled as she started walking next to me holding my hand as we got outside.
As we reached a training round with targets in a line far away, a man with ashy blonde hair and a bow in his hand came into view.
“Y/N this is my best friend, Clint Barton!” she exclaimed as he grumbled something about only being her teacher with a smile on his face.
He put down the bow as he walked up and hugged Kate “Technically im her archery teacher, but she's a little delusional so i just let her say im her best friend.” she hit his arm as she turned to me 
“I told you he'd deny it.” she whispered as i giggled 
Clint looked at us and smiled “Look this is cute and all, but Katie has some practice to do.” 
Kate walked towards her bow and ushered me over “actually Clint y/n here is going to be shooting, And I was hoping I'd get to teach her alone.” 
The blonde man simply smiled, raised his hands in the air and walked away.
“Katie? That's a cute little nickname” she blushed “also, i’m not actually shooting this thing am i?”
She raised the bow up “this thing is my bow and yes, i know you really only know random things about me like what my favorite book genre is or my favorite color. I want to share this with you, archery is something I love dearly. Just like how I love you, and I want to introduce my one love to my other love!” 
Even though I do know she loves mystery novels and her favorite color was purple, I was happy to learn about her interests. I frowned a little as she said she loved me, i haven't been able to say it back and i want to i'm just not ready yet. She's constantly assuring me it's okay and that my emotions move at their own pace especially since it's only been a month which i appreciated. 
I smiled and looked up at her “Well what are you waiting for bishop? Introduce me.” 
Her face lit up as she placed the bow in my left hand and got behind me as she fixed my stance. Once the arrow was set on the string for me she placed her hands on my hips and moved her head to my right shoulder.
“Okay now draw the bow and look at your target.” her breath on my neck made my ears turn a shade of red “Good girl, now release.” my heart sped up and I let go of the bow string.
The arrow struck the target right in the middle. I didn't notice seeing as I had already turned to look at Kate. she didn't notice either because she was already looking at me, my breath hitched once i realized we were face to face. Our mouths were inches away, Kate lifted her hand to hold my cheek as we leaned towards each other. 
Right as our lips were about to connect Clint came back “Katie! You both should be heading back in soon it's going to rain!” our heads turned towards him so fast im surprised we didn't get whiplash
Once he left we turned back to each other and laughed as Kate rested her forehead on my shoulder. 
She lifted her head and laughed out “Some best friend he is!” 
“It's okay Kate, we don't have to rush anything, you will have plenty of other opportunities to kiss me.” I kissed her cheek and walked away to head inside “You coming? It's going to rain.” 
“Yeah you head in, I'll meet you inside!” Kate said with pink cheeks as she headed towards the target y/n had shot minutes prior to drag it inside so she could keep it safe.
The past week with Kate was heavenly. I had learned so much about her and all of her interests, she told me about everything and anything. I realized I was ready to tell her I loved her and was ready to marry her, but I had never found the right time. She was taking me out today to a ‘very special place’ so hopefully I would be able to tell her then. 
She had made me put on a blindfold the second we got into the car claiming it was a secret, she had chosen to drive her own car which i loved since her purple Firebird was awesome. Once the car started to slow down I realized we were there.
As I was unbuckling my seatbelt I heard Kate get out of the car and run around to my side of the car.
She opened my door and grabbed my hand and stood behind me as she took off my blindfold.   “Y/N i'm trusting you with this place because i love you and i want you to know all of me, this waterfall is my favorite thing in the whole kingdom, second to you of course.” 
 I looked around, and took in the gorgeous colors, it truly looked like a place you'd see on a greeting card. 
“Y/N, Look at this!” Kate shouted from the top of the waterfall how she got there so fast and how i didnt notice is beyond me.
“Kate, get down from there you're gonna get hurt!”
As soon as I said that she jumped off into the water below, after waiting a few seconds for her to come to the surface, she didn't pop back up.
“Kate stop it, you're scaring me Kathrine!” no response “god damnit bishop” i said as i ran and jumped into the water.
The second I jumped in and my body hit the freezing water, there she was popping her head back up. 
I swam over to her laughing form and hit her shoulder “you scared me, don't ever do that again! I thought I lost you before I had the chance to tell you I love you, you idiot.” 
Her eyes widened and she smiled “you love me?” 
“Of course I love you Kate, I have for a while now. Since the day we almost kissed at the archery range. I've had feelings for you since you walked into my bakery and asked me to wed you” i smiled at her lovingly 
I wrapped my arms around her neck as her hands came down to rest on my waist. “Kate, can I kiss you?” 
“Yes y/n please kiss me.” kate begged 
The second she said yes our lips were crashing against one another. My fingers ran through her hair and her grip on my waist tightened, we parted smiling and slightly out of breath as our foreheads rested against one another.
“I love you Kate.” i finally whispered 
Kate smiled “You don't understand how badly I've wanted to hear you say that. Y/N i truly deeply love you.” 
Our lips found eachother once again, but this time it wasnt messy or rough it was just passionate. As her grip on my waist tightened again I pulled her even closer to me, we were soaking wet kissing under a waterfall, it was like one of those cheesy scenes in a rom-com.
As we broke away again I smiled at her “Did you just quote Padme from Attack of the Clones to tell me you love me?” 
The raven haired woman smirked “Maybe I did, maybe I didn't.” 
“Marry me Kate.” her eyes widened and smile deepened. “I'm ready to marry you.
Two weeks later we were married. The wedding was a lovely lilac and white theme with plenty of people in attendance. The honeymoon was even better if you catch my drift. When we got back home Kate had gifted me with the target I had shot all those weeks ago, the arrow still embedded in the bullseye.
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My Kingdom, Your Kingdom | One
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Pairing: secret king!Steve Rogers x heir apparent!female Reader
Summary: Steve, Sam, and Bucky start off their vacation in the remote lake town with an adventurous evening stumbling over three lost girls in the woods.
Warnings: Reader is mentioned once or twice having brunette hair for the convenience of setting her apart from her sisters, no otherwise description of her appearance, wandering in the dark in the forest, mentions of wild/dangerous animals and killers/assassins
Wordcount: 3.2k
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 first chapter is a little bit different, almost exclusively in Steve's pov. We'll switch towards a Y/N focused pov starting in chapter 2, with the sprinkle of Steve's pov here and there. the beautiful Dividers are by the lovely @/firefly-graphics
Taglist: open, will be tagged in the comments
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“Everything is handled. Although I can’t promise it will stay that way for long. Enjoy your getaway while you still can.”
“Thank you Hill.” Steve ended the call, slowly lowering his arm and shoving his phone into the pocket of his pants. With a sigh, he leaned back in the car seat and looked out of the window.
“Vacation,” Sam huffed in an amused tone, eyes focused on the road he was driving on as he barely shook his head. “Can’t remember the last time I took one.” 
Steve smiled, “Me neither.”
Bucky in the passenger's seat snorted loudly. “Time you got one.”
That Steve could only agree with. And it was exactly why they were on their way. They’d been on the road for a couple of hours already, making the track from one end of the country to the other one. There was only one place Steve could imagine spending a wintery holiday just before Christmas. It was a small and quiet town, nestled between the shallow foothills of the mountains and surrounded by a bunch of smaller lakes not far away from the border. Not many people chose to visit it. 
“How long until we are there?” Bucky groaned as he shifted in his seat and stretched his arms high above his head. As high as the ceiling of the car allowed him to. Steve could hear his longest friends' joints creak through the motion.
“Not long,” Sam grumbled, glaring at the brunette before he glanced back at the road again.
“We are almost there,” Steve agreed, eyeing the familiar scenery. It warmed his heart as he spied the hints of the lake peeking through the trees. Shortly after the road curved to the left, following the outline of the lake as the town came into view.
“Wow,” Sam, whose first time it was there, exclaimed in awe. Both Bucky and Steve were equally mesmerized however much quieter. They had traveled there many times, yet the first view of the town never wasn't magnificent.
Driving through the town many heads turned as the townspeople watched them pass by. “Turn left here,” Bucky’s gruff direction came as they had passed almost entirely through the town, the Townsquare and most houses already behind them.
“Here?” Sam asked doubtfully as he eyed the small dirt road that was easy to miss. The snow covering it made the street blend into the surrounding trees so well, one might miss it entirely not knowing of its existence.
“Yes,” Steve agreed, his heart jumping in his throat as they pulled into the inconspicuous road, “just follow it.”
Leading away from the town for a good 10 minutes it felt as if their car was swallowed by nature. The road took a couple of winding turns until after the last one the trees to either side of the road parted and revealed a big plot of land. In the middle of it sat a cozy, sleepy cabin. Three stories high and big enough to house an entire little village of its own, Steve instantly felt at home.
As the car came to a halt before the double-door garage, he couldn’t get out fast enough. While Bucky went on to open the garage, Steve stepped through the snow and rounded on the cabin. Standing before it he craned his neck. Memories flooded his mind as the smile on his lips grew with each passing moment.
“I thought you said the cabin hadn’t been used in a while.” Bucky took his stand beside his friend, glancing up at the cabin too.
“I asked someone in the village to set it up for us a couple of days ago. Everything is defrosted and we got a stocked pantry and fireplace.” Grinning, Bucky looked over at Steve.
“Now that sounds like a proper vacation, even for us!” Both of them laughed as Steve shoved his friend by the shoulder.
“You could have had a proper vacation even before. No one will recognize me here.”
“Not with that mug, no.” Bucky agreed and eyed the dark hair on the blonde’s lower face. Before Steve could say something, a shout came from the garage.
“Some help maybe?” Sam had already started to open the trunk and empty out their bags. In unison, Steve and Bucky walked over to help bring their bags into the cabin.
“A fire, then a nap and food, how does that sound?”
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"Ha! It's cold!” Sam shuddered as he stepped onto the veranda, closing the glass doors with his elbow as his hands were filled with three beers. Steve and Bucky, who were already sitting on two chairs with a small fire lit in a brazier out of metal and stone, chuckled at their friends' antics.
“I told you to wear a damn coat,” Bucky teased him, earning a glare. Sam gave one of the three bottles of beer to Steve and held the other one above Bucky’s head, just out of his reach.
“Yeah and next time you can get yourself your own beer, Barnes.” 
Steve rolled his eyes at his friend's quarrel. He was used to them being at each other’s throats. He also knew that it was mostly for show and deep down they both cared deeply for one another. They just were too stubborn to acknowledge it. 
Nursing his beer the blonde leaned further back in this chair and spread his knees out. The residual snow, after they’d cleared most of it off, crunched beneath his feet.
“Man, this is serene. I could get used to this view and the quietness up here.” Sam sighed as he dropped into his own chair. Two hums followed his words, agreeing with them. 
“Just laying back and doing nothing,” Steve mumbled as he glanced towards the treeline. It had gotten dark about half an hour ago, even if it wasn’t that late yet. The sun set quickly around here.
“Oh come on, you’d be bored by midday.” Bucky scoffed and looked at the blonde as he rolled his eyes. “And then Sam and I would have to hunt you down and stop you from getting into trouble.”
“Not like we don’t have to do that on the regular already.”
Steve wanted to protest, in fact, he had already opened his mouth to give them a piece of his mind when they heard a crack not far away from the forest.
“You heard that?” Sam asked as all three of them watched the darkened scenery with watchful eyes. Then another noise came from within the woods. This time, not a crack, it sounded much more…human.
Steve put his beer on the ground and stood up. Stepping onto the edge of the veranda he strained his ears. “It sounded like a person,” he mumbled. There was no third noise which seemed strange to him and without further thought, he decided to investigate.
“Steve…Hey! Steve!” Bucky shouted after him as the blonde already bounded down the steps into the garden and strode towards the edge of the woods.
“For fucks sake,” he grumbled as he looked over at Sam. Putting down his beer with enough force to crack the bottle he jumped over the railing to follow the blonde. Sam scrambled into the house to get his coat and ran after the both of them.
“You can’t just walk into the goddamn woods in the dark Rogers!”
“Without us even less Punk!”
Steve however kept marching on, paying the two of them no mind. He had a mission now. Whatever had caused the noise in the woods it must be special. The woods around the cabin were always quiet. The occasional birds or deer could be heard or seen in the mornings but they made many different sounds. Something in his gut told him to investigate the noise and Steve never went against his gut feeling.
The path he chose through the trees was unsteady and went every which way there was the most space to get to where the noise had come from. Steve stopped as he heard twigs breaking. Looking back Bucky and Sam were standing still too, Bucky shrugged his shoulders. It hadn’t been one of them then. Another crack made Steve look into the dim maze of trees until he spotted something light peeking out between them. With newfound vigor, he stepped forward when a hand landed on his shoulder. Glancing behind, Bucky glared at him and shook his head. 
Sam walked past, taking the lead. Only when he was several meters in front of them did Bucky retract his hand, “Don’t be stupid punk. I won’t hear the end of it if you manage to get yourself killed on your vacation.” 
Before Steve could answer that he wouldn’t get himself killed, shouts sounded from further ahead. Steve could distinctly hear Sam’s shout of “Whoa!” mixed with a second voice.
“Sam!” he shouted and sprinted forward as he saw his friend go down. Skidding to a halt in what was a small clearing in the snow-covered forest Steve and Bucky didn’t trust their eyes. Sam was sitting on the ground, clearly surprised but fine at first glance. Before him stood a young blonde woman who seemed as surprised to see them as they were seeing her. Her arms were still stretched out from whatever movement she had done to send Sam onto his ass.
“What the hell?!” came his exclamation as he fought to get up from the slippery ground. Steve held out a hand to his friend, pulling Sam up. Bucky meanwhile didn’t take his eyes off the strange young woman.
“Who are you?” he asked gruffly and sternly. Before the blonde could answer, more cracking of twigs resounded before two figures barged out of the trees behind her.
“Yelena! Are you okay!” The taller one of the two new women asked, her brows drawn down in concern, eyes flitting over the frame of the blonde one. 
“What were you thinking walking off?” The redhead asked her, arms crossed before her chest and scoffing. It was only after that they noticed Steve, Sam, and Bucky just a short distance behind Yelena.
Steve’s heart made a leap as the eyes of the brunette landed on him. She was pretty, he noted, very pretty. Her gaze was electrifying, rendering him unmovable as her eyes fixated on him. She moved slowly, carefully gauging their reaction, to step between the blonde and them. 
“Who are you?” Her silky smooth voice caused a shiver to ripple down his back. Steve quietly gasped at the sensation, at the way her voice seemed to penetrate every pore of his being. 
Had it not been for both Bucky and Sam scoffing and guffawing Steve would have been stuck in his daze forever. Now however his eyes jumped to his friends, who were ready to step forward and chew these girls up. He held a hand out, stopping them. Bucky shot him a disbelieving look followed by an eye roll. Subtly he crossed his arms and flexed his muscles. Steve couldn’t blame either Sam or Bucky for reacting in this way, protecting him was an automatic response neither could shake off.
“I’m Steve. This is Sam and Bucky.” Steve pointed at himself and then at the two others before he trailed off, once more getting caught in the beauty of the young woman standing before him. She looked reluctant and cautious. The unsteady flicker of her eyes between all three of them clearly showed how uneasy she was to have met them in the middle of the forest in the dark, how distrusting she was of them. In Steve it only caused curiosity to sprout. What were they doing here this late? 
“I’m Y/N. My sister's Natasha–” she pointed at the redhead, “–and Yelena,” then at the blonde she was shielding.
Only after she gave him a timid nod, he thought to elaborate. Swallowing, he mumbled, “We, uhm, we heard some noises and wanted to investigate when we came upon..” 
Yelena, who he was sheepishly pointing at, cut him off, “When they scared the living daylights out of me. I thought they were wild animals trying to attack me.” Bucky snorted amused at that.
“There are no wild animals here. At least none that are dangerous. They don’t venture that close to the cabin or the village.”
“So we are close to a village?” Natasha spoke up, her voice sounding hopeful. Confused, Steve eyed the three girls closely, they looked exhausted and frozen. He noticed the way all three of them were trembling and shifting from one foot to the other. Y/N’s hands were shaking as she curled them into fists and unfurled them over and over again. She tried to hide it, shoving her hands behind her back after she caught him looking. 
“You are lost, aren’t you?” he asked them, glancing up at her eyes once more. There was a spark in them, the brief flitting of a look that reminded him of a spooked and cornered animal. It was gone in the blink of an eye, so fast Steve thought he might have imagined it. What he didn’t imagine was the way she shifted and bit her lip, glancing back at her sisters.
Both Natasha and Yelena were tense, glancing at each other. They opened their mouths at the same time, forming the first letter of what Steve suspected would have been an unconvincing ‘no’ had Y/N not spoken up first. 
“Yes,” she answered timidly, still not entirely sure if she could trust these three strange men, “We were on our way when our car broke down.”
“And you decided to walk aimlessly through the woods instead of calling a tow service or even a taxi?” Sam asked in utter disbelief. It was very cold up here, especially without the sun the temperatures quickly turned deadly. The three girls kept silent, pressing their lips together and furrowing their brows.
“You have a phone, do you?” Bucky asked them and the girls reacted the same way. “You don’t have a phone?” He asked once more, surprise evident on his face as they nodded.
“Could you point us to the village perhaps?” Natasha asked, clearly uncomfortable and done with the questioning. 
“Sure. It’s another 4 miles in that direction.” Sam was very frank and dry in his answer, uncrossing his arms before his chest and pointing his finger deeper into the forest.
“Sam.” Steve chided, frowning at him. Neither Sam nor Bucky seemed concerned or apologetic about their blasé manner, Steve however didn’t feel right treating the girls that way. Sending them on their way back into the forest when it was only going to be darker and colder into the night even if the way to the village wasn’t that long left a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. 
While Natasha and Yelena turned around, ready to head back deeper into the forest, and Sam and Bucky also turned around to make the short track back to the property, Y/N and Steve remained motionless. Eyes on eyes, they hesitated. Steve wasn’t sure if it was his concern for their well-being or the pull of something else that was radiating between her and him. He didn’t want to let her go. Everything in him shouted to stop her and to have some more time together, get to know her. 
What he couldn’t know, Y/N felt the same. She was intrigued by the blonde man with sparkling blue eyes, which when she looked into gave her the feeling of safety. It felt like she had known him for an eternity instead of less than thirty minutes.
Her mind had been running ever since they mentioned a phone. Before she had never thought about it but now the realization settled heavily in the pit of her stomach. They didn’t have a phone, they didn’t have money. They had nothing on them besides the clothes they were wearing. Even if they found the village, how were they supposed to pay for a room in an inn? 
Steve sensed her hesitation on top of the pull and it seemed the others had by now too.
“Y/N?” Natasha asked, having turned back around.
“Nat, we don’t have any money with us. How are we supposed to pay for a room? For anything?” They couldn’t even get the car fixed and turn back around. They were stranded. Utterly screwed up. Natasha remained silent, looking directly at her older sister.
“Well, shit.”
“You don’t have anything with you?” Y/N looked back at Steve and hesitantly nodded. He wondered just who these girls were to be stranded this far out in the country, so close to the border, with nothing in their possession. Bucky and Sam’s eyes were practically burning into the back of his head, both of them knowing exactly what Steve was about to do but neither agreeing in the slightest. 
Before he could speak up, he was pulled back by his neck. Bucky looked at him furiously, before he turned to the girls. “Give us a moment,” he told them gruffly pulling Steve further backward. A short distance away from them they huddled together.
“You can’t be offering what I think you’ll be,” Sam spoke up first.
“Yeah punk. We don’t know them. It’s not safe.” 
“What if they are unhinged hitchhiker killers? Or assassins sent by the North? Repay a debt or some of that crap?”
Steve looked back at the girls. They were standing huddled together, rubbing and blowing on their hands for warmth. He could still see them trembling, even from afar. They didn’t look like killers to him, they looked like three lost girls who desperately needed a warm place and some kind strangers to help them. His and Y/N’s eyes met as she glanced up. There was that pull again, only furthering his sure feeling that they weren't a danger.
“Look at them, Buck. They are cold and you heard them. They have nowhere to stay. We can’t let them wander in the cold throughout the night. They'd be dead before they reach the town.”
Bucky groaned loudly, “Fine punk. But they stay downstairs in the wing furthest away from your room. One of us takes the room before you and the other the room in front of the stairs at the beginning of the hallway.” Steve could live with these conditions. 
“And tomorrow morning we’ll drive them into the town and get them a hotel room,” Sam added. Steve was fine with that too and if he secretly planned to use his rank to meddle with it, then they didn’t need to know it.
For now, he turned around and strode over to the three girls. They turned towards him, three pairs of eyes curiously looking up at him, one of those which lit a fire in his stomach and made his heart do backflips.
“We are staying in a cabin just at the edge of the forest. It’s much closer than the village and we don’t charge anything. So if you’d like, you can stay the night and we’ll show you the way to the village in the morning. Work something out?” 
They looked at each other, eyes jumping back and forth, brows and mouths furrowing and curling. It reminded Steve of the silent conversations he would have with Bucky when they were in meetings or during formal functions. As Y/N turned back towards him, he held his breath in anticipation.
“We’d like to. Thank you.”
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peachysooxo · 3 months
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The Kingdom of Us
Chapter 2
pairing: kyungsoo x OFC genre: Royal!AU, nonidol!soo, crownprince!kyungsoo, romance, drama
theme: arranged marriage, modern royalty, enemies to lovers, war, betrayal, eventual smut word count: 3,197 description: Kyungsoo fights his feelings at the engagement dinner being held for himself and Alina. Part of Alina’s past is revealed, Kyungsoo questions his own motives
warnings: mature themes, mentions of sex, mentions of anxiety, minors DNI
Author’s Notes: hi! Thank you so much for your support. We are getting a little deeper into this world, I hope I don’t make you hate Kyungsoo with this story! No significant warnings this time. Photos are not mine. Happy reading (:
KYUNGSOO
I stand at the end of the foyer with Chanyeol and Baekhyun on either side of me. I glance up the stairs every so often, waiting for Princess Alina to join us for our dinner. This entire night was for her, it was merely advertised as being for us. It was another formality I had to pretend to be excited about. I had merely been a guest at these engagement dinners before, now the entire family was elated that it was my turn, it meant improvements and promotions for everyone. Though our engagement wasn’t official, it felt like it. I listen to the chatter from my aunts, mother and cousins, the anticipation of the Princess coming down the stairs was unbearable.
Ah, Princess Alina.
Alina gave me a headache and I barely knew her for five hours. Her push back earlier today was a big surprise to me, she isn’t exactly known for having an opinion. Valencia was embarrassingly behind in their treatment of women, unfortunately all anyone can focus on is Alina’s beauty. Too bad all of said beauty goes to ruin the second she opens her mouth. All I know is that she better go along about our agreement, or I will make every single day of her life a living hell. She’s just another thing thrown in my face because she’s a “good decision”, the “right girl to grow the dynasty”. It never occurred to anyone that I didn’t want any of this. Though I didn’t have another woman in mind, it didn’t mean that I couldn’t find a wife on my own.
“Hey, pay attention.” Baekhyun nudges me. Unlike the rest of the family, I allowed Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Yixing to speak informally to me. I don’t have any brothers and they were the closest I could get to siblings. They were the three men I trusted the most in the court.
“I am paying attention. See? I’m waiting for my prison sentence to grace us with her presence.” I nudge him back, a slight growl in my voice.
“That was harsh.” Chanyeol mutters.
“Excuse me?” I look up at my cousin, his cheeks are red and his eyes are downcast. “Do you want her? You can have her.”
“I didn’t say that.” Chanyeol snaps. “I just think you should be nicer to her. She’s young and scared, I know you don’t want this but don’t take it out on her.”
My eyebrows raise and an unfamiliar burn tingles in my head. My ears ring and suddenly Chanyeol is a threat to me. Never have I felt this toward him, alarm bells sound in my head. This is more reason to not go through with this. What makes angry is Chanyeol trying to tell me what to do with my fiancé. Whether I like it or not, she’s my headache and none of his damn business.
“Is it not a fact, Chanyeol? I was assigned a wife; hand chosen by my parents. It is a life sentence I have to serve. I’m being as nice as I can be. It’s not my fault my parents didn’t think when they chose her.” I explain with shrugged shoulders, clasping my hand over my wrist. The hustle and bustle of the family gathering and talking to one another is almost deafening, I didn’t enjoy these formal gatherings, never have. They felt so superficial, so showy and obnoxious. Half of this family hated each other anyway. The other half were social climbing leeches that wanted nothing else from me but status and support for whatever they do. Most of them are only here out of curiosity. They want to meet the People’s Princess, or so everyone calls her.
A figure at the top of the stairs catches my eye. I wait to see if it’s my forever headache announcing her presence, and sure enough it is. Princess Alina’s shy smile charmed the entire room to go silent and watch her descend the stairs. She didn’t have to say anything at all, it was her presence that was magnetic. The moment she came into my vision, time stopped. I take in every bit of her, studying her for any flaws. It aggravated me that she was naturally so… Lovely.
She was the only genuine person in this room, her smile was honest. Truthfully, I didn’t know much about the Princess. The only thing I did know is when her smile was fake and when it was real. I wasn’t stupid, I did my research. I watched Princess Alina from afar for some time and learned quickly that she wore her emotions on her sleeve. At the many charity events the Princess attended, she’d have that wide smile that showed off her dimples. If she wasn’t pleased, she wouldn’t show her teeth and would narrow her gaze. Tonight, I saw her full smile, dimples and all.
Princess Alina was glowing in a white form fitting dress that flowed just below her calves, a square neckline showing just a small bit of her deeply tan skin. Yellow gold jewelry in the shape of hearts adorned her neck and ear. Every small bit of her was perfectly put together as if she was crafted by hand. Her hair was styled to fall down her back in a braid with small flowers placed strategically intertwined from the crown of her head down into the braid. It was a traditional Valencian hairstyle, she always had her hair in traditional styles for these types of events. I grew annoyed that she was wearing makeup for the simple fact that it accentuated her beauty.
Up until her arrival, I received a photo of the Princess every year and never gave it a second thought or more than a quick glance. Every princess had their photos edited to look much prettier than they really were. It wouldn’t be unfair to imagine that Alina was any different. Now I see her in front of me and she looked exactly like her photos. When we met earlier in the day, I bullshitted that “your photos don’t do you justice” comment. Now, I see that was wrong to do. I should’ve paid more attention. Everyone in the room gathered and lined the walkway to the dining room, watching and whispering compliments as she greets each member of the Doh Royal Family. She certainly didn’t have to waste her time, but she took the time that none of these people deserved. A small part of me disagreed with each sentiment that was spoken because they weren’t enough to describe what I saw in front of me. It’s becoming very difficult to hate someone who’s so…
So…
I couldn’t even find the proper words for her. She took them from my mind and my mouth. Princess Alina was ethereal, there was something about her that made my heart flutter and it angered me. I stop and compose myself, bringing my head back down to earth. I had to focus on the task at hand. I couldn’t let her beauty get to me.
“She is stunning. Your son and the Princess will have beautiful children.” Aunt Micha coos to Mother behind me.
“We’ll see about that.” Mother grumbles under her breath. I roll my eyes and turn to Princess Alina as she stops in front of me, her respectful bow takes me by surprise. She plays her role exceptionally well; I couldn’t ask for more. She offers a soft nod, her lips curving into a smile with emotionless eyes. It’s a relief that she’s devoid of emotions in her eyes. I fear that she would make me retract my stipulations if I saw the true emotions in her gaze. I offer my hand and she gracefully accepts it. I link her arm with mine and escort her to the dining room. Along the way I put my hand over hers and smile down at her.
“My darling, you are so beautiful.” I say lowly. The Princess’ eyes gaze into mine, discomfort at my sweet name for her caused them to well up with tears. Her smile gives her a deceitful glow that can fool anyone into believing she was happy. Were all of her smiles fake? She’s holding back tears. She hates this as much as I do. Everyone in this room believes we instantly fell in love, how wrong they were. We kept our eyes forward and Alina made it a point to greet everyone, it boggled my brain. Why did she have to acknowledge everyone? Princess Alina stops for a moment, stepping in front of me. “What is it?”
She tries to suppress a giggle and adjusts my tie with soft hands. She pats my chest and bows her head. “Your tie, Your Grace. The knot was coming loose.”
“Thank you, Princess.” I lower my head in thanks. A gentle smile comes and goes as fast as I blink my eyes. We bow to Mother and Father, two Royal Guards approach them with customary gifts from Valencia. Princess Alina’s home country offered a gold necklace to the Mother and a gold watch to Father. One of Valencia’s biggest imports was gold, it was customary for a Valencian Royal to gift their future in laws gold jewelry. Of course, Mother and Father delighted in the gifts. King Ignacio and Queen Evelina could’ve just given it to them on their last visit, but I digress. Formalities are everything.
I guide Princess Alina to her place at the table and pull her chair out. She sits, I take the seat next to her and the family all collectively gather around the large dining table. The conversation is light at first, the duchesses ask the Princess what life was like in Valencia. Between the first and second courses of dinner, I thoroughly studied Alina’s every move. I was filled with so much fascination that someone could mistake it for love. Alina does the same whenever I turn away from her, I catch her in my peripheral vision. How curious is it that I want to look at her constantly? Our gazes catch each other’s, and we hold the contact for a few seconds. Alina turns away with red cheeks, her attention focused on anyone else but me.
“So, Princess Alina, how is the alliance your father made with the Azteco Nation? Still strong?” Boram, my cousin by marriage, smirks, leaning forward on the table. Alina’s demeanor never changes, she never shows her cards.
“It is only faring well considering Azteco’s Queen is my sister.” Princess Alina laughs softly. “I fear the only alliance Azteco’s King has with Valencia’s King is that they are in-laws.”
“How wonderful! How is Queen Maria doing? We were made aware that the birth of Princess Daniela was quite traumatic.”
“Boram,” I warn softly. Alina pats my knee under the table and nods to my cousin.
“Queen Maria has recovered well. Thank you for asking,” Alina beams. Murmurs spark down the table at how “well trained” Princess Alina is, how nothing can unnerve her. Mother pays close attention to how Alina reacts, she had been ever so curious if the Princess will crack under pressure. I didn’t understand why Mother was suddenly so displeased with Alina, it was her that chose Alina as my betrothed. Perhaps her own guilt is being projected onto the Princess, but that can just be me overanalyzing this situation we found ourselves in.
“And your relationship with King Daniel? Is there any truth to the rumors?” Boram pries deeper, not satisfied with Alina’s answer. What is she talking about? Princess Alina’s smile fades and her eyes lock with Mother. Mother’s brow furrows and a sly grin appears on her face, her attention turning to Boram.
“Boram, what is this you speak of?” Queen Hyunae questions. “Princess Alina, care to explain?”
I can see the anxiety and stress strangling Alina. She was a deer in the headlights, panic rising on her face. What is it that’s making her so nervous? Disappointing me? A secret being revealed and the possibly consequences? Oh, this is going to get good. The entire room falls silent, not even a pin drop could be heard. She turns her attention to me, begging me with her eyes to stop this from getting out of control. Confusion riddles my mind, obviously it’s something that shouldn’t be revealed at dinner such as this. I shake my head and turn my attention to my troublemaking cousin.
“Alright, enough! Boram, you need to put an end to the gossip that you spread. You’re making Princess Alina uncomfortable. I expect better treatment toward her.” I demand, my acting is so good that everyone believes me.
“My many apologies, Princess.” Father adds, glaring at his niece. “This behavior will not happen again.” The silence brings awkwardness to the dinner table. I decide that enough is enough and I change the subject for now. Regardless, I will find out what it is that Alina is hiding from me.
“Princess. Are you prepared for our rehearsals? Our engagement ball is coming up.” I offer. Alina looks into my eyes and nods.
“It will be delightful, Crown Prince.”
After the disastrous dinner, I suggest that we take a stroll in the palace garden, a place Alina had not been before. We leave together, changing the tune of the family. The Princess takes in the beauty of the garden, something in her calms and changes into serenity. She looks up to the sky and locates the moon, I look in the direction of her gaze and see the crescent in the sky.
She is the moonlight. She must have hung the moon and stars herself, there is no comparison to this beauty she possesses. Stop while you’re ahead, Kyungsoo.
“So,” I break the silence. “You hooked up with King Daniel?”
She stops walking and shakes her head vehemently. “I could never do that to my sister or to you, Your Highness! How disgusting are you?!”
This whole, “hurt you before you can hurt me” thing is only backfiring. I stand speechless, unsure of what to say. The only thing I can think of doing is to drop to my knees and bow, aware that eyes are on us. Confused, Alina sinks down and touches my face out of concern. “Princess, my deepest apologies for insulting you.”
“Never do this again, Your Grace.” Alina replies, a smile on her face to cover her agitation. “It is clear how you truly feel about me.”
What happened between Alina and Daniel? I never got along with Azteco’s king, every rumor I heard about him wasn’t too far from the truth. The puzzling part was how Alina fit in to this, did I not pay enough attention to what she was doing while waiting to be brought to Seoul? I surmised long ago that anyone is capable of hurting the people around them for selfish reasons; I’ve known it, I’ve felt it.
I also understood my circles were much different than the ones the women in this family were in. I take Alina’s hands and we stand together, my arm resting on her upper back. “Princess, everyone has a past. Everyone pretends to wait for their betrothed, but we all know that is never the case. It’s okay if you had a relationship before me. I had relationships before you.”
Alina’s eyes water, pain written all over her face. Slowly, she starts to back away and I can’t help but feel satisfied that I managed to keep her at a distance. “Crown Prince… I didn’t know you did that. It is becoming abundantly clear that this is not going to work. Here I was, the only one being true to our betrothal. I… I…”
“Stop crying, darling. There are eyes everywhere.” I caress my betrothed’s face, pulling her close to me. Alina stiffens to my surprise.
“Please… You don’t need to do this.”
“I wanted to kiss you, Princess. Are you pretending to be shy with me?” I peer closer, feeling her muscles tense in my hold. Alina holds back a sob and looks away, what am I doing? Am I a monster? I quickly loosen my grip on her and kiss her hand, smiling. “A tease, hm?”
“I thought you were much different than this, Crown Prince.” Alina starts. “Why do you hate me? Am I not what you want? Please don’t torture me and let me go. I will accept my punishment, anything is better than what lies ahead if we keep going.”
I stare at my betrothed, shocked at her plea. She was in agreement when she arrived and suddenly that changes? Obviously, something happened between Daniel and Alina, she just didn’t want to admit it. Not yet at least. I refuse to be made a fool with a wife such as her, keeping secrets and lying to my face. I shrug my shoulders and wipe her tears out of annoyance of seeing them. They’re probably not real anyway, just enough to get her out of this conversation.
“No, you’re staying. I will walk you back to your chambers, Princess.” I give up for now and walk the Princess back to her chambers, continuing the silence between us. She slips in her door and locks it, allowing no room for me to follow her. I walk back to my chambers and slide my phone out of my pocket, sending a message to Princess Alina. I might not want this marriage, but I’m not a heartless man. That look in Alina’s eyes said it all: she really took all of this seriously (as much as I didn’t want to believe it) and I betrayed that by dating despite the laws a betrothal held, or how she might feel about it when she found out.
Kyungsoo Princess, I am sorry for my words. I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me.
Darling Wife Okay.
I acknowledge her message and proceed to search forDaniel and Alina rumors on the internet. To say the least, I was bothered by what I saw.
King Daniel weighs options of breaking betrothal of Crown Prince Kyungsoo of Seoul and Princess Alina of Mariposa
Princess Alina of Mariposa Absent from Wedding of now-Queen Maria of Azteco and King Daniel due to Illness
Princess Alina Enlists for Medical Military Service, to get closer to King Daniel or Crown Prince Kyungsoo?
Valencia’s Crown Disputes Rumors of Princess Alina Carrying a Secret Relationship with Brother In Law King Daniel
Fellow Military Nurse discloses the truth: “Princess Alina pines and cries over betrothed Crown Prince Kyungsoo as he gets closer to enemy lines.”
I remember hearing of her presence at my base, but I never wanted to see her. How much truth is in these headlines? Are these rumors? Do gossip websites really need that much attention, why not focus on celebrities? Not one word about Alina had been this controversial, in fact tonight was the first time I heard of any of this.
Kyungsoo Princess, I would like to see you
Darling Wife Why, your Highness…?
Kyungsoo I would like to speak with you
Darling Wife No. Goodnight Crown Prince.
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sunflowerromcom · 10 months
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Suddenly It Was All For Us by sunflowerromcom
"For nearly two hundred years, Rebecca Welton’s family reigned over the tiny country of Myss since it declared independence from the United Kingdom on September 23rd, 1821. And every year on that day, they celebrate with a grand festival. A festival that had fallen on her shoulders to plan. And why not?"
A Tedbecca Princess Diaries inspired AU
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holylulusworld · 8 months
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Not a queen (8)
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Summary: You are no one. What if fate makes you queen?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Maid!Reader x Nick (Fowler) Barnes
Warnings: dystopian world, modern royal au, shy reader, arranged marriage, idiots in love (kinda), hangover, fluff, cuddling, mentions of groping during sleep
This series takes place in the Two kings universe, at the same time. I recommend reading this story first to understand this universe better.
You can find all arcs here: Of Kings and Queens Arcs
Not a queen 7.5
Not a queen (Arc 2) masterlist
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“Hmm…” you mumble in your sleep. Your eyes are still closed, and you snuggle into your pillow to get more sleep. You feel warm and safe. “Hmm…”
“Mouse,” a voice whispers in the back of your mind. “What if I make you mine? I could crawl under the covers and taste your sweetness.”
You feel a warm body press against your back. A hand moves over your arm, tickling your skin. It’s soft and gentle.
“Doll,” another voice purrs in your ear. “What if we both make you ours right now? We can just lay claim on your body.”
You flutter your eyes open only to meet a pair of ocean-blue eyes.
“Morning, doll. How did you sleep?”
“I bet she slept well,” Nick nuzzles his face in your neck again. He inhales your scent deeply and purrs your name. “She was between us, brother. The place where she belongs.”
Bucky presses a soft kiss to your temple. He smirks against your skin when you weakly push against his chest.
“We will go for a walk later. You can choose who will go with you. The other one will stay here. From now on, one of us will always accompany you. These are dangerous times, and we need to keep you safe.”
“You are saying this all the time. What’s going on? I don’t understand,” you look at Bucky, demanding answers. “I deserve to know.”
“You’ll get to know everything today. We will talk about it tonight. Give us a bit more time to sort out our thoughts. Nick and I need to think about a few things. The meeting with our allies was fruitful but…alarming.”
“I don’t understand what you are talking about. You’re worrying me,” you sniff. “I don’t want to be a part of all of this. My life was simple, but it was mine.”
“It was a life the law forced you into. They took away your brother from you! You need to face the world as it is,” Bucky sneers. “A rotten place. Dark, cold, and loveless.”
“Buck don’t scare her,” Nick sighs behind you. “It’s not her fault this world is a bad place to live in. She lost her brothers and parents. I think Y/N knows exactly what this world is.”
You lean into Nick’s touch when he wraps his arms around you. He seems to be in a protective mood, and you don’t mind having him close. “Nick, we talked about this. We will fill her in tonight. Period.”
“Fine, but stop being so loud. I still got a hangover and my mouse is already shaking. You’re scaring her.”
“Doll, I’m sorry,” Bucky presses his lips to your temple. “I didn’t want to get loud. I think it’s for the best when you go for a walk with Nick today. I’m a little pumped up…”
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Nick holds your hand, smiling wildly as all eyes are on you and the prince. It’s a rare moment. Most of the time Bucky gets all the attention.
“Why is Bucky mad at me?” You question. “Did I say something wrong? I didn’t want to anger him.”
“It’s not your fault, mouse. Bucky is not mad at you, but at the situation we are in. Our friends…King Steve, his father-in-law, and our friend Tony want us to join a fight we aren’t prepared for. At least that’s what Bucky said.”
“A fight?” You whisper. “What do you mean by a fight?”
“We can’t talk about this here. Let’s enjoy our time in the garden,” Nick stops walking. He cups your face with his hands, leaning closer and closer until you feel his lips on yours.
“Nick,” you mumble, but kiss him back. “What about Bucky?”
“I saw you first. I want to have one thing first too,” he presses another kiss to your lips. “You’re my mouse, and he cannot have the first kiss.”
“It was a nice first kiss,” you shyly look up at Nick. He furrows his brows and purses his lips. “What?”
“Only nice?” He shakes his head. “No. We gotta change your mind.” Nick cups the back of your neck and brings your face close to his. He grins and dives back in.
His lips move against yours, taking your breath away. He slides his tongue inside, swiping over your tongue, snaking it with yours. You close your eyes and let yourself fall for the first time in your life.
Your legs wobble when he finally breaks the kiss. “That was,” you breathlessly say, “a kiss…”
Nick grins. He wraps one arm around your shoulders to steady you.
“That it was, mouse. A kiss.”
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Bucky watches you curl into a ball on the sofa. You watch the fire feast on the firewood, yawning loudly.
“No sleeping yet, doll,” Bucky crouches down next to you to run his hand over your head. “We wanted to talk. Do you remember?”
“Hmm…I know. You wanted to tell me about the things your friends said, or want you to do.”
“Why did you stay in the garden for so long, Nick? You knew that we need to talk to Y/N,” Bucky sighs as his brother sits next to you on the couch, grinning. “What is it?”
“I stole the first kiss!” Nick proudly states. “I made her legs wobble, and she suckled at my tongue.”
“You did what?” Bucky grunts. “You fucker!”
“Language, brother,” Nick singsongs. “She enjoyed every second. I told you she’s my sweet mouse.”
You look at Bucky who glances at your lips. He sighs deeply. Of course, he wanted to kiss you first, but he knows his brother always came second. Even to their father. “Did he kiss you good, doll?”
Your cheeks heat up at Bucky’s question. You run your index finger over your lips, still feeling Nick's lips on yours. “It was very nice.”
“I’ll steal the next kiss, Y/N.” Bucky grins. “But only if you want me to.”
“I want you to,” you can believe you just said that. “Maybe tomorrow, when we go for a walk.”
“We need to talk about a few things first.”
“Nick said something about a fight.” You slowly sit up to look at Bucky. “What does that mean, Bucky? Will you get hurt?”
“Buck…don’t…” Nick shakes his head as his brother takes a deep breath. “Can we not keep her out of this?”
“I want to know.” You grab Bucky’s hand. “Please don’t shut me out. If you want me to become your wife, you cannot hide things from me.”
“It’s not a fight,” Nick shakes his head. “It’s…” He grabs your hand to press a soft kiss on your knuckles.
“A revolution I suppose…” 
>> Part 8.5
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slytherinshua · 11 months
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[ 11:20PM ]
genre. fluff. modern royalty au. timestamp. warnings. sneaking around(?) kisses. pairing. prince!yeonjun x servant!reader. wc. 413.
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You were sitting alone in the staff quarters of the palace, scrolling your phone with boredom and trying not to think about yesterday. You had screwed up so badly, and you were sure Yeonjun had taken the fall for it.
You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, feeling the urge to go see if he was okay. But you were too scared that you’d mess up bigger this time to do that, so you stayed where you were.
“Psst. Y/n!”
You swivelled around in your chair, seeing the shadow of a person on the back wall that led to the corridor along with a glint of a shining crown. You stood up immediately, rushing to the corridor where you knew Yeonjun was hiding. He wrapped his arms around you tightly as soon as you were close enough to do so, hugging you as if he hadn’t seen you in years. In reality, it had been less than 24 hours.
“I was so worried about you after I left. Did they scold you too much?” You asked urgently, breaking the hug and scanning Yeonjun to make sure he was okay. In the morning, Yeonjun had been caught with you while trying to avoid a meeting. He had taken you to the garden where he thought no one would look for him, but he was wrong.
“Darling, I’m fine.” Yeonjun assured you, a cute smile on his face from your actions.
“I shouldn’t have left with Mrs. Kim when she told me to leave, I should’ve stayed with you.” You mumbled, head dropping.
Yeonjun lifted up your chin so you were face to face again, “Don’t say that, you just did as you were told.” He murmured, bringing his lips to yours a second later.
“Don’t ask me to come up to your room with you. They might catch you again.” You warned after breaking the kiss.
“But I really want to. We haven’t snuggled in forever.” Yeonjun whispered, searching for your lips again.
“Yeonjun…”
“What if I said it was an order?” He asked in between pecks.
You paused, “I would have no choice, I guess. You know I have to obey orders from my prince...” 
“I’ll use that as the excuse if they catch us as well, then. ‘She was just following orders’, how does it sound?”
“Convincing.” You grinned.
“Let’s go, then.” He kissed you one more time and grabbed your hand to lead you up the steps.
↳ txt taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @yeonjuns-bluehair,, @90steele,, @ddeonudepressions
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libraryofgage · 2 months
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The Prince and the Metalhead (2)
Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually
Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two (you're here!)
I know I just posted part one but I've got Thoughts for this AU that include: Steve's first birthday in Genovia and then his 16th, his conversation with his grandmother about attending public school in America for his senior year, and then we get into him attending Hawkins High and meeting Eddie!
So, yeah, plans lmao
Anyway, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)
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"You'll have a rotating course schedule. Mondays and Wednesdays will focus on math and social studies. Tuesdays and Thursdays will be science and literature. Friday will be Royalty lessons and the history of Genovia. We can also include an elective, if you'd like."
Steve blinks, staring at Sue for a moment before glancing at Jonathan and Robin. Jonathan is looking through a book of photography and Robin is idly scratching behind Dart’s ears. "Will we all have the same elective?" Steve asks.
"Not unless Jonathan and Robin want to join you," Sue says, looking at Steve expectantly. She's got a pen at the ready to write down what he says, and it suddenly feels like a lot of pressure.
Is there a wrong answer here? Is there an answer that gets him sent back to his parents? He looks down, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood. Before he can lose himself in his thoughts, a cold and wet nose presses against his hand. Steve blinks, smiling at Dart and picking her up to hold close. "What kind of electives are there?" he asks.
Sue hums softly, flipping to another page on her clipboard. "Possible electives include art, music, theatrical performance, physical education, equestrian studies, botany, and foreign languages, to name a few."
"I'll be taking photography lessons," Jonathan says, looking up at Steve and gesturing to his book.
Robin nods and leans back on her palms. "I'll be doing the physical stuff. Like learning how to fight and practicing ballet to improve my balance," she says, leveling a look at Steve that dares him to say anything about the ballet.
Steve wouldn't, though. He doesn't want to make Robin angry enough to ditch him. He looks down at Dart, thinking for a moment before asking, "Can I take more than one?"
"Of course, but you're limited to three for now," Sue says.
What would be the most helpful? Foreign languages, probably, since he'll definitely have to speak with ambassadors from other countries at some point. He should also learn something that can be shown off, a skill that he could pull out at functions to make his grandmother proud or distract guests.
"What language should I learn?" he asks.
Sue thinks for a moment, tapping her pen against her chin. "Mandarin. It's a business language, and we have close relations with a few representatives from China and Hong Kong. If you'd like to learn a Romantic language first, though, Spanish is good."
"I'll learn Mandarin," Steve decides, nodding once to himself. "And music. I want to learn to play...hmm...the piano."
With a nod, Sue writes his electives down. "Let me know if you'd like to add an elective later, Your Highness. In my opinion, though, your current courses will keep you properly challenged for now."
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Sue wasn't kidding about his academics being challenging. Steve struggles in math, muddles his way through science, drags himself through literature, and is ready to drop when he hits social studies. He'd ask the tutors to spend more time on topics, but Robin and Jonathan seem to have no problem keeping up, and Steve can't bring himself to disrupt their pace.
His Mandarin lessons are going just slightly better if only because the tutor seems to recognize that slower is better for him. After almost a month, he's starting to understand intonation and vocal variation better, and he can recognize a few characters on sight.
Piano lessons are also going well. His tutor there doesn't burden him with theory; she introduces the keys, shows him how to read sheet music, and then lets him choose songs to learn. Steve feels the most at ease when he's squinting at sheet music and slowly pressing piano keys into something recognizable.
The lessons he really looks forward to, however, are the ones for his Royalty Education. He gets to see his grandmother then, and she spends the whole day with him. Even better, something about this stuff just clicks. He's good at fixing his posture and memorizing silverware placement. He bows just right on his first try and his grandmother compliments his wave.
By the end of the lesson, she'll be smiling, her pride obvious, and take him for a walk in the gardens or to eat cookies in the kitchen.
"Royalty requires maintenance," Clarisse says, standing in front of Steve with relaxed shoulders. "You maintain your demeanor, your image, your knowledge of foreign dignitaries, your understanding of the people’s needs, and your humility. But you must also maintain your pride and your boundaries."
"That sounds like a lot," Steve says, idly tugging at the hem of his shirt.
"It can be overwhelming, but it becomes second nature in time," Clarisse explains, smiling reassuringly. "When you're royalty, you are constantly watched. Many eyes are kind or curious, but others are malicious, and you want to do everything you can to disappoint the malicious ones."
"How?"
"By acting like the Crown Prince you are."
"What kind of prince am I?" Steve asks, finally voicing the question that's been lingering since these lessons started. What kind of prince does his grandmother want? What kind of prince would best serve the people? What kind of prince will be so loved by all that nobody could even think of thinking about getting rid of him?
Clarisse hums, thinking for a moment. "I suppose a good one," she says, her slight smile telling Steve that she's only lightly teasing. "My hope is that you'll be kind and competent. You will make Genovia prosperous without compromising tradition. You won't allow politics to stand in the way of doing what's right by the people of Genovia. But this is a tiring job, so I hope you'll learn how to balance your duties with relaxation."
It's a lot, but Steve can do it. He can be that kind of prince, especially for the country and grandmother that's offered everything he's ever wanted and more. He nods once. "Okay," he says, "What do I need to learn, then?"
Clarisse smiles fondly at him. "Let's start by reviewing Genovian history. Only by knowing the past can you face the future."
With that, she places a book on Steve's desk and doesn't wait for him to open it before telling him about Genovia's founding.
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Steve has weekends off from classes, which leaves him with more free time than he knows what to do with when he doesn't have to clean a house or make his own meals. So, he's bored, and telling Robin that he was bored was a huge mistake after she suggested riding bikes around the garden only to learn Steve didn't know how.
She'd insisted that he should learn, insisted that Clarisse be the one who teaches him, and insisted on hearing no objections.
And now he's here, standing in front of Clarisse's desk and staring down at his feet as she finishes writing something on the paper in front of her. Joe is standing just to her right, hands behind his back.
"Okay," Clarisse says, gently placing her pen on the desk before looking at Steve with an encouraging smile. "What did you want to ask me, Steve?"
Steve bites the inside of his cheek, takes a deep breath, and looks up. "Well, um, Robin wants to ride bikes, but I don't know how," he says.
"Well, that's easily fixed," Clarisse says, reaching for a phone at the corner of her desk. "I'm sure a member of staff is free to teach you."
Before she can pick up the phone, Steve finds himself blurting out, "Well, I...I was hoping...you could teach me."
Clarisse freezes, blinking twice with confusion before looking at Steve. "You want me to teach you?" she asks. When Steve nods once, she sighs softly. "A queen does not ride bikes. Besides, I have too much work to complete. Perhaps I could accompany you for a walk this evening to make up for it."
Despite himself, despite bracing for rejection, it still hurts. In the three months he's been in Genovia, Clarisse has agreed to just about every request he's made. Every held breath as he waits for cruel words has been released with unprecedented relief when none came. Even when he broke something---a priceless vase, according to Jonathan---his grandmother had simply surveyed the damage, thanked him for being honest, and asked him to avoid kicking soccer balls in the presence of priceless vases in the future.
Perhaps Steve has gotten too comfortable. He shouldn't be pushing like this. If he wants his grandmother's affection, he should know when to hold himself back.
So, despite the unfamiliar urge to ask again in case Clarisse might change her mind, Steve nods once. "I look forward to walking with you, Grandmother," he says, his voice quiet. He glances up, waiting long enough to see Clarisse's smile before turning on his heel and leaving the office as quickly as he can.
Clarisse watches him go, her head slightly tilted as the door closes silently behind Steve. She nods once, glad that Steve is sensible enough to understand things like work and propriety, and picks up her pen once more.
"If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?" Joe asks.
"At this point, Joe, you may as well assume the answer is yes."
"With all due respect, Your Majesty, and please pardon my French, my experience has been that assuming makes an ass out of you and me."
It takes a moment for Clarisse to understand the joke. When she does, she can't help her amused smile. "Fair enough," she says, "Go ahead, Joe."
"Do you remember what I said about being Steve's grandmother?"
"Yes, of course."
"Perhaps now is one of those moments where being a grandmother is more important than being a queen. His Highness does not ask for much, and he is not the kind to ask more than once, even if he really wants something. I imagine it took a significant amount of courage to ask you to teach him in the first place."
"Are you suggesting that I...I risk making a fool of myself for all to see?" Clarisse asks.
"I am suggesting you spend time with your grandson, who asks very little of you because he does not believe he can ask for anything."
Clarisse is silent a moment, letting Joe's words process and settle in her brain. Finally, she sighs and gestures to the papers on her desk. "I have work to complete," she says.
"Your Majesty, editing these proposals was on your schedule two weeks from now. You are ahead of your work. A break would not be unreasonable or unwarranted."
Well, when he puts it like that.
Clarisse sighs, leans back in her chair, and looks up at Joe. He's still staring at the door, giving no indication that he feels her eyes on him, but she knows he does. "Have a groundskeeper retrieve bikes and safety gear and meet us in the garden," she says, standing from her chair and bracing herself to look like an utter fool.
Her apprehension fades away fifteen minutes later. It can't hold last when she sees Steve's surprised and delighted expression at her presence. As she helps him put on knee and elbow pads, shows him how to pull the helmet's strap tight, and holds the bike steady as he sits on it, Clarisse decides a little foolishness is perfectly fine (necessary, even) if it will keep the smile on Steve's face.
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Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added to future parts!)
@y4r3luv, @potato-of-the-lord,
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bioplast-hero · 5 months
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Precarity
9k+ WIP • mature • dabihawks
Prince Hawks had never met the man he was to marry— not until they stood at the altar speaking their vows. When the priest told them to kiss, Touya whispered, “Don’t.” So he didn’t. All they had to do was fake it.
or: Hawks and Touya are writing the love story of a generation on a very public stage. It’s so convincing, even Hawks could believe it was real.
Ongoing wip!
[Read the fic on AO3]
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