#sleeping grinning cat and his beloved prince | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nekombers · 2 years

Text

SLEEPING BEAUTY !?

an alchemy experiment with grim and the heartslabyul duo goes wrong and causes you to go in a deep slumber and the only way to wake you up is with a trues love kiss! but who is going to be your Prince Charming in the situation to save you from this distress!?

“ uhm guys.. I don’t think this is how the spell is supposed to go-”

“shush henchmen! once I create this new spell that will completely have everyone swayed , I’ll be on the news everywhere! and be loved! - ” grim proudly began exclaiming—

he placed his paws in his hips and gave you a grin, before ace came in ; “ahem, I think you meant to say us. ” ace gave grim a small glare before grim completely ignored him and went back to stirring what rest inside the cauldron.

suddenly a sweet intoxicating smell started coming from the pot, “ it’s almost done, heheh” grim said before taking in a big whiff of the scent which start descending from the cauldron. “ good! now we need someone to taste test this before proceeding to plan.” ace said, his goggles began fogging up with steam and he just used forearm to pushed them up.

“ y/n! would you mind taste testing this before we drink this up?”

“ excuse me? why not ask deuce!? ” you cried out, taking a few steps back before feeling something below bump into you. swiftly turning around you saw deuce spread out on the floor asleep.

“ I would but as you see he’s been drained like that from painting the roses ever since last night… thanks to our beloved housewarden. plus surely this shouldn’t effect you since you have no magic " stirring more profoundly than the last time, ace brought up a big spoon of what was the ‘spell’ and placed the spoon on your hand carefully.

“ c’mon, no need to be scared! or else you’ll be more of a scaredy-cat than grim!” he watched as you brought the spoon closer to your mouth, and you just nervously looked back at the weird substance which laid in the spoon.

“ hey! i heard that, ace!” grim said, as he began taking over of the stirring of the pot, but still keeping an eye on you as you were about to put the spoon in your mouth.

suddenly you found yourself gulping it down and you slammed the spoon on the table, gasping for air.

“ as much as how sweet it smells, it’s horrendously bad in taste.” you continued, but a few seconds later your head started getting fuzzy and you found it hard to stay up and still.

“ y/n!” the voices you heard calling out your name soon became too quiet too hear and everything went black.

𖥔•͈ ┈─────────────── 𖥔•͈

“ yes, yes this is certainly indeed very bad. ” crowley said nodding, he observed your sleeping body closely before clapping his hands together. the sudden clap, made the two boys and the cat jump in fear.

“ did they kill her..?” deuce asked, still frightened by the sudden chaos which awoke him from his sleep.

“ us? this is completely grims doing! he wanted to create a new spell!”

“ argghh.. you were in it too ace.” grim yelled back at ace, while the two boys kept arguing the headmage just shook his head.

“ you didn’t create a new spell, by all the things you’ve said you put in it; you created a sleeping spell; which can only be cured by a true loves kiss.”

earning the attention from the three, they all looked at each other before replying; “ s-so you mean a kiss can fix all of this..?” ace questioned again, flustered he couldn’t help but look back you, sleeping peacefully in the bed.

“ you two better be glad there weren’t no injuries involved. even if it’s completely harmless spell, I expect you three to fix this mess. now if you excuse me.. uh I have important matters to get back to in my office.. I suggest you all should come to an agreement soon.. ” crowley coughed a little after mentioning his ‘busy’ schedule before soon making his leave.

leaving the deuce and ace duo and grim in shock standing.

𖥔•͈ ┈─────────────── 𖥔•͈

by the time lunch time came around, the three say quietly without saying a word at the table.

“ so about y/n.. uhh, what’re we gonna do?” ace then placed is head down in the table while staring back at the other two waiting for a response.

“ you heard the headmage.. we have to give her… a.. a-” deuce struggled to say the word, his face began turning a shade of red almost resembling their own housewarden’s hair.

“ oh come on. it’s just a kiss! how am I suppose to keep up with my school work without my henchmen-.. uhm, I mean how lonely it’ll be without her at the dorm..?” grim gradually got quiet after his change of words and again silence made its way again.

grim suddenly stood up in his seat , “ wait, don’t tell me you two haven’t kiss a girl which why you’re too embarrassed to kiss y/n!” grim stated, no response came from the two boys and suddenly grim began laughing.

“ h-hey! i have totally kiss a girl before-”

“ in your dreams!” grim couldn’t keep his laugh in any longer which made ace feel flustered before taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“ well! if you won’t be any use of getting my henchmen back and at it again, I’ll find one someone who will.” grim began marching out of the lunchroom ignoring the two boys who were speaking out to him across the room

then the two boys got up and rushed after to find grim before he told anyone anything.

“ my my.. floyd, would you look at that?” Jade said, watching the scene unfold infront of them.

“ awww~ something must’ve happened to shrimpy if she needs saving with a kiss..” a smile creeped up on the boys face which received a chuckled from Jade.

“ I’m sure Azul would love to hear these beloved news.”

“ why can’t we just keep this ourselves..?” Floyd frowned in return to his brothers words. watching Jade stand up, he did so as well.

“ Because it’ll be fun this way..”

Jade smiled while making his way out of the cafeteria with Floyd right behind him.

𖥔•͈ ┈─────────────── 𖥔•͈

“ GRIM! YOU DONT NEED GO FIND SOMEONE ELSE. IM THE PERFECT FIT FOR THIS.” ace yelled across the hallway, deuce only trailed behind him; still flustered to speak out about the matter.

“ eh?! even if I wanted to, you two would take decades before even kissing y/n” grim shouted back at them, huffing before continuing making his way across the long halls of NRC. suddenly he came to a stop and felt himself bump into something.. someone.

“ what’s this about kissing my dear potato, you say?” a voice spoke, grim rubbed his head where he hit himself while bumping into the stranger.

grim than looked up and saw the dorm leader of pomefiore standing before him. “ hey, you almost stepped on my tail!” grim said, before taking a few steps back to meet vil’s gaze.

“ do continue speaking-”

“ as if! I’ll find some other non tail stepping prince to awake my henchmen from slumber!” grim huffed once again before taking his leave.

“ oh? slumber you say..”

“ hmph, as if I’ll let that self centered pretty boy kiss my henchmen. but still, no worries.. the mighty grim is here!” grim said, puffing his chest out a little proudly.

being interrupted by his own yawn, he paused. “ eh.. y/n could use saving tomorrow.. I’m worn out from all the chaos.”

he found himself turning and heading back to ramshackle for the day.

unaware, he went to sleep not knowing the news of y/n’s deep slumber spreading throughout campus.

“ GRIM! ” a voice in the background could be heard screaming.

“ ngh… tuna-"

“ GRIM! OPEN UP!” the knocks only seemed to get louder as time slowly went by

letting out a small growl grim made his way up and walked to the door, pulling on it to open it. just to see the heartslaybul duo standing there

“ .. ace.. deuce.. what to you want-”

“ EVERYONE KNOWS ABOUT Y/N! THEY’RE TRYING TO FIND HER TO GIVE HER THAT KISS!” ace technically yelled at grim who was quickly awakened properly at hearing the news.

“ HUH?! how did they find out!?” a group of footsteps could be heard making its way closed towards them and they turned back to see—

“ well that would be my doing..” before them stood Azul, who was accompanied by Jade and Floyd, a smug look was on Azul’s face as he gave the three a smirk.

“ so.. now that the fish is outa the net. mind telling us where I can find my precious y/n..?” azul asked, still having the same look on his face; waiting for a response which was interrupted by another group.

“ pardon the interruption but I’ll need you to move aside, azul. ” that voice belonged to no other than the house warden of heartslabyul.

“ h-housewarden!” both deuce and ace said in unison as they nervously lowered their faces from their superior. “ I’ll be needing you two boys to show me where y/n lies, or it’ll be off with your heads.” riddle said as he waited for the two boys to reply. grim still shocked by the sudden appearances then closed his eyes and sighed.

“ there is only one thing we can do now..” grim said in a fake sigh.

both the heartslabyul duo looked at grim while both housewardens stared back at him as well waiting for a response.

“ RUN!” grim suddenly shouted, as he was quick to shut the door on the faces of azul and riddle who were merely almost hit by instead were greeted by the floor.

while the other two boys were still in the ground, shocked by the impact. Jade and Floyd were quick to act, opening the door by force and running behind the duo and cat who had escaped from the window..

unknown to everyone’s behalf, someone was already on the way to see you. as they’re the most powerful person who lies in the school, it was child’s play to find you.

just the most powerful fae there is..

making it back to the grounds of nrc, they made a stop to catch their breath.

“ w-well, good bye to being an honor student..” deuce manage to gasp out, still panting from the run they made.

“ grim! ace! deuce! ” a rather cheerful voice called out to the three. gathering strength to look up, they were met by no other than the housewarden of scarabia, who of course was accompanied by jamil viper.

completely forgetting the situation, grim was rather happy to see the two.

“ kalim! agh, can you believe what just happened to us!?” grim exclaimed but no reply came from the two.

“ snake charmer ” a calm voice said. grim quickly widen his eyes and saw that both of his friends were under jamil’s command.

“ huh!? ” grim suddenly shouted as he gathered himself and stood up on his paws.

“ ah! sorry grim, but when it comes to y/n.. there’s no holding us back” kalim just smiled back at the cat. not waiting any longer grim ran out and left his friends behind.

right now, his only goal was to reach the nurses office before anybody else tried something.

as soon as he was getting close to the room, he found himself bumping into yet another person.

“ well, just the person we were looking for..” grim recognized the sly voice and just as he expected. he found himself between both leona and ruggie.

“ just go ahead and tell us where’s she at” leona told grim, the expression on his face told grim everything.

“ as if! I won’t tell ya!” grim said, as he launched forward to make an escape he almost was caught by Leona’s strong grip.

the hairs on his body stood in fear. just as he reached the nurses office he heard someone scream “ she’s in there!” and tons of footsteps were seeming to be approaching him.

grim stood on guard at the door. a bit intimated by everyone’s presence.

seeing everyone was just gonna knock right by him and make themselves go in by force grim said what he thought were his finals words.

“ m-maybe in another life I’ll be the most powerful creature to exist..”

he leaned back and close his eyes waiting for impact, but suddenly the door behind was opened. he looked up from the ground as his back still lied there on the floor.

“ thank you very much.. malleus.” suddenly a familiar person’s voice spoke softly.

grim’s eyes widen along with everyone else’s as they saw both malleus AND the prefect at the doorstep.

“ oh- huh?” you were confused by everyone’s presence who’s expression’s still were in shock.

“ d-did malleus draconia end up kissing her !?” someone cried out as everyone waited for a response. “kiss? what’re y’all talking about?” you questioned, your faces expression was enough to have everyone else confused like you.

“ no kiss was needed. a little bit of magic was used to awake her from the slumber she was placed in.” malleus finally spoke, as you just nodded along with him. “ yeah no kiss was needed.. can someone explain?” you asked, tilting your head in questioned. though before anyone proceeded to say anything, tons of sighs were let out.

malleus took your hand and started walking, as everyone still laid in shock. the words that came out his mouth was enough to set realization upon the people there.

“ just keep in mind that, I was the one to wake the sleeping beauty. i feel more than accomplished to have had the chance to have such feeling bestow my lips..” a small but sly smirk arose from malleus as he made his leave.

little did everyone know, the magic to awaken the sleeping beauty from her slumber did lye between a true loves kiss.

valentine

#twisted wonderland malleus #twst malleus #malleus draconia #oneshots #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jamil viper #kalim al asim #vil shoenheit #crack fic #twst floyd #twisted wonderland #twst #twst fanfic #female reader #twst x female reader

2K notes · View notes

missmitchieg · 5 months

Text

Tea and Croissants (and A Really Sweet Boyfriend)

For @snailsandpuppy-dogtails 💖💖💖

Also on ao3!

Luke let out a soft groan as he woke up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He blinked to let his eyes adjust to the still dim lighting of their warm orange bedroom, thankful he no longer needed an alarm to wake up at what Penelope called "the actual asscrack of dawn, you weirdo".

He looked down at his girlfriend of two years, a smile forming on his face as he took in the sight of her sleep mask and messy bangs. He felt a warmth in his chest as he watched her, laughing softly when she let out a cute yawn.

She is so cute.

He pressed a kiss to her temple before carefully getting out of bed, shivering as a chill hit him. He looked back at Penelope, who had the covers pulled up to her neck one more time before ambling toward the bright yellow kitchen he loved walking into every morning to make some tea for Penelope. He searched through her collection of flavored teas and settled on a soothing honey lavender tea bag, as Penelope had been stressing over Sergio hacking up hairballs recently and needed some help to relax.

He hummed softly as he grabbed her thermos and rinsed it out quickly before filling it up with hot water. After spooning the tea leaves into her pink thermos, he searched through the drawers for paper and a pen, deciding on a yellow note and a red sharpie. He smiled as he wrote his note and drew a heart at the end before grabbing a pretty white and blue teacup and saucer he bought Penelope for Christmas the year prior, sticking the note onto the pretty plate.

He fed Roxy her breakfast before strolling back into the bedroom to leave the thermos and teacup, leaving her with another kiss to her forehead and a whisper of "I love you" before he got ready for his run and left with Roxy.

A couple of hours later, Penelope slowly woke up to a cold bed and shivered, pulling her eye mask off of her head to put her violet glasses on. She sat up and looked around, perking up at the sight of her thermos and teacup, picking up the note.

Hey, gorgeous.

I made you some warm tea to enjoy in bed. I already fed the kitties their breakfast, so don't believe the little monsters if they meow for food like crazy. They are adorable, gluttonous little liars.

She giggled softly at that and blushed, shaking her head fondly at her boyfriend. She smiled as she poured some tea into the cup, reading the rest of the note as she sipped her tea.

I went out for a run with our girl. I'll be back in a few hours with a warm croissant and hugs for you. Maybe we can shower together when I get home. I think that would be fun. I love you to the Moon and to Saturn.

Luke ♡

Penelope blushed red and grinned as she pressed the note to her heart and sighed happily, slowly finishing off her tea. As expected, both Sergio and the Black Queen came scampering toward Penelope, meowing for food. "Hey. Hey. Luke fed you." She huffed and shook her head, snickering as they both sulked toward the cat tree in the corner. She grabbed a book off her nightstand, content to read and wait for her sweet boyfriend.

Half an hour of sipping her tea and reading one of her cheesy but beloved romance novels that she could picture her and Luke in later, she heard the turn of the door and perked up, tugging her hot pink robe tightly around herself. Excitement flowing through her body, she hurried out to the door to see her boyfriend holding Roxy's leash and a brown bag filled with a warm, freshly baked croissant.

"Mon prince charmant!" She greeted him with a tight hug, but not before appreciatively raking her brown eyes up and down his toned, sweaty body. "Tu donnes envie à une femme de parler français."

Luke chuckled as he was hugged by Penelope and kissed her soft lips, arms securing around her waist. "Hi, sweetheart." He whispered in her ear and pressed kisses up and down her neck, then her lips. "I love you."

Penelope hummed happily and kissed him again, placing a hand on his cheek. "Je t'aime, Luke. J'adorerais prendre une douche avec toi, chérie." She gave him a sweet, slightly squinty-eyed smile before snatching the bag from him. "But first, I want my croissant."

A snort left Luke's nose as he shook his head fondly, silently following Penelope to the kitchen island to snuggle with her while she ate her croissant. "As you wish, mi amor." He watched Roxy scurry off to her spot to be alone, turning his attention back to his girlfriend.

A giggle falling from her lips, Penelope swallowed a bite of her croissant and leaned her head on his shoulder, her free hand on his heart. She hummed as she felt his heart thumping in his chest, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

Luke let out a blissful sigh as he looked at Penelope, who was gleefully (and surprisingly elegantly) munching on her croissant.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

With a deep pink blush, Penelope finished her croissant and wrapped her arms around Luke's neck, pressing their lips together. "I'm so happy I have you."

Luke's eyes softened as his heart sped up, giving her another kiss.

"You'll always have me."

#criminal minds #penelope garcia #luke alvez #garvez #garvez fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction

8 notes · View notes

hyuneytoast · 3 years

Text

Hearts of Roses || Scene 2

⇢𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 》 “Don’t forget about the thorns.”

In which you stumble upon Wonderland and the Prince of Hearts. How you end up in Wonderland is something explained as complete nonsense, but also quite simple; Just a key and a door. What if it’s not easy to return from Wonderland, though? A locked door and a lost key; now surely that’s not so bad if it weren’t for the Queen of Hearts’ threatening intentions.

⇢𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓼 》 Prince of Hearts!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader, Fantasy AU, Alice in Wonderland AU, Stranger to Lovers, Fluff, Slight Angst

⇢𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 》 Explicit language

⇢𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 》(Let me know if you want to be added!)

@danyxthirstae01 @sailorhyunjinz @rapilne @peachy-maia @hyunj1nn133

𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓜𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 || 𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 || 𝓝𝓮𝔁𝓽

II.

You stumble pass the door, feet being met with, in a way, familiar grounds. Once again, towering mushrooms and a dense forest greet you. The sunlight filters through the canopy and casts itself messily around. You let your skin soak the soft warmth as you stand there for a good solitary minute. Were you really returning? Should you continue to be here? You have no clue, but you can confirm that Wonderland and the people you’ve met have never once left your mind. A good excuse for your terrible lack of sleep last night too. It’d be a shame too if you weren’t to show up when Hyunjin asked you to with evident hope, right?

“Returning, I see? Seems like Wonderland has turned you into a madly, vulnerable fool now,” An unforgettable voice laughs in amusement. Your eyes scan each branch in search of the cat-like acquaintance.

“I’m not always in a tree, you know. I’m over here~”

In front, a grinning figure slowly appears in front of you, now sitting upon the grass. And hell, even considering the magical hole you dug yourself into, you doubt you’d ever get used to his “tricks.”

“Hello again, Minho.”

“I’ve been expecting you in the back of my head.”

“You’d know I come back?”

“Of course! I was watching your goodbyes last night ’til I spent this morning in dread, listening to two idiots speak about you.” Minho crosses his arms against the back of his head while falling slowly aback, laying in the green.

“Who?”

“That’s not important; your life does not depend on knowing so therefore I have no need to tell. But I do must say, one of those idiots are waiting for you. Ah yes, our dear prince is disgustingly waiting for you with heartening patience,” He frowns with closed eyes, faking a gag.

“O-oh. Well—”

“If you desire to be pathetic like him, I suggest you begin wandering off at this very second in the opposite way.”

The cat boy and his irritating habits of interrupting and insisting you to leave makes you let out a low, hopeless sigh. “Now? I still don’t know my way around or where exactly to go. I don’t think wandering around aimlessly is… the wisest decision either.”

“Now surely you didn’t fully think that thought yesterday, did you? If I remember clearly, you left with a smile. Besides, reasons like that, Y/N, make everything more fun! Surprises here and surprises there!” Minho cackles before is resting figure vanishes out of sight.

You frantically look around, but all fails when you find yourself permanently alone once again. “Whatever,” You grumble.

And just like that, your feet move aimlessly in an unknown direction, the opposite of where you went with the dark rabbit, Changbin, yesterday. Wandering and wandering, and deeper in the forest you go; no sense of direction but surely a sight of wonders. Once you get a taste of something, you go back for more. That is very much like your current situation. Not like you actually have a choice though since you have no clue of how to get back on your own.

Tickling below your knees, the breeze creates a rhythm having the tall grass swaying back and forth and your hair gently dancing along too. Incredibly huge butterflies prance along, wings glistening like the day’s sky. You admire the mushrooms from enormous to tiny. Perhaps you poke some of their squishy caps too, smiling to yourself at the fun feeling and aspect. Is it wrong to say that in an unknown somewhere full of mysterious madness, your soul still manages to be put at ease? Maybe it’s the magical atmosphere, or the forest’s serenity that you could never experience in the city. Perhaps it’s both that isn’t so wrong either. An escape from a harsh world; such an opportunity practically pleads you to blissfully wander day by day.

Against the lush green and patches of dirt, a trail of bright red splatters and puddles trail ahead to the left. Appearing to be too colorfully reflective to be considered blood, thoughts immediately recall last night’s encounter with the prince. Red paint! Your feet reroute you along the crimson trail. Curiosity taking over each inch, not to mention, the doubts of possible dangers awaiting at the end. You hear a cheery hum as you walk around a huge bush of roses; similar to last night’s but wilder, more lush. Your eyes meet with a familiar individual that just may have made your heart skip a beat without a warning.

“Y-Y/N?” Hyunjin marvels, mentally sighing in joyous relief.

“Hi, Hyunjin.” If Minho were here, he’d certainly wouldn’t hesitate to mock, or maybe even smack, the grin upon your face.

“Oh how brightly I am shocked to see you have returned very much sooner before my eyes than I have expected,” The boy rambles with a smile he can’t hold back, fumbling to settle the red-dipped paintbrush and palette on top a giant, flat stone.

“Yes, it seems that yesterday was more than enough to convince me,” You respond rather sheepishly.

“Quite happy to hear that as much as I now know I can keep my promise. Now, um, kindly, asking, may I?” Despite the nervousness mixed in with his soft tone, Hyunjin eagerly holds his hand out (which you notice is decked with a few silver rings), but still patiently waiting for a response.

You nod, placing your hand in his large one, cold skin sheltering yours. He gently tugs you around the stone and tall rose bush, revealing a part of the forest containing the most mushrooms you have seen so far.

“What about your paint?”

“That, my dear, can surely wait longer than all of us in Wonderland combined. Besides, you mean far more than all my replaceable paint.” He flashes you a smile while giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Now when was the last time you felt like… this? Felt like whatever this is that you’re feeling. Your words stuck in your throat and all confidence shying away; A desire to bury your heated face in the comfort of your blankets along with tying your hand with Hyunjin’s, never wanting to let go of such simple yet heart bursting touch. Oh god, Y/N, calm down—

“Y/N?! And our dear prince, Hyunjin? Why, what ever are you doing here?”

The two of you snap your gazes to the ringing voice on your right, a red-haired male standing under tall mushrooms with a covered basket in hand. He cocks his head to the side, giving off a few rushed blinks.

“Bang Chan, lovely you meet you once again.”

“Likewise, Y/N!” He flashes you a grin and a small wave.

“Ah, my dear friend! You have caught us as I was making my way to reveal Y/N the garden!”

“The garden? Oh, the garden! Yes! What a sight to behold once you get there, like a rainbow palace that makes me promise you won’t regret the adventure!” Chan gives a small clap before waving his basket. “Not a similar treat, but I was on my way to deliver a few things to Felix.”

“Felix?” You question the slightly familiar name, but you can’t recall encountering him yesterday’s tea party.

“Yes, Felix!” Chan chimes as if he was just asked one of the most precious questions. “He’s one of the most beloved bakers in Wonderland, role done at the castle’s kitchen. A dear friend to many as well, hard not to be friends with him if I must say.”

“Yes, yes, but let’s not forget about me,” slightly whines Hyunjin. “And correction, hard for you to not be friends with everyone. We’ll visit Felix and I’ll make sure you meet him, Y/N. But that shall be for another day when the sun hangs as now, we mustn’t waste any more time. Farewell, Chan!” Still holding your hand, he tugs you forward to where you previously left off.

“I’ll be sure to see you again, Chan!” You glance over your shoulder, giving him a bright face.

“Farewell!”

Small conversations fill up the time that’s basking under the tattered sunlight, feet now walking on a stone trail where the forest seems to set clear into a field. Who knew venturing to a garden could grant so much little details about a person? The two of you would exchange questions that were yearning to be answered. He’d ask you about the different opportunities in your world to your favorite things, like flowers and colors. You’d ask the same, along with your curiosities of his royal heir. Turns out, he’s the next in line for the throne and his favorite color is red. Turns out, he dreams of someday owning a dog.

Little things like that.

“I’m assuming this is it?” Stopped in the tracks, you stand before a stone archway supporting dark wooden doors with black iron handles. Green vines ravel around the tall arch and stone walls, small pink blossoms appearing every here and there.

Hyunjin releases your hand, clapping joyously with crescent eyes. “Yes, we have most certainly arrived!” He steps forward, pulling the door out and gesturing towards the opening. “After you, my lady!”

“Thank you!”

You make your way pass the entrance, now entering a world splashed with even more vibrant colors. Blossoming trees stand tall, small shrubs dotted with warm-colored flowers, and bushes branching high wrapped in every color a garden could possibly hold. Few smooth stone benches are neatly placed throughout and behind the stone trail that’s willing to take your around the base of the garden, willing to show you as much as Hyunjin is. Intaking even further little wonders: The small bright caterpillars resting on leaves, red birds chirping their melody, sapphire-blue butterflies visiting, and flowers consisting of either loosely flared petals or neatly compact ones. Even the gentle breeze puffing through makes the garden more alive as it slowly sways.

The sight alone leaves you breathless. Leaves you breathless as it should for being such a lush garden you’ve never thought you’d ever see. Like one that jumped out of a fairytale book. Like one that has been experiencing an everlasting season of Spring.

One step after another and many more. A reaching hand, pointing out to a branch holding small white flowers, petals in a formation of a star.

“I insist you smell this one, it’s one of my favorite scents.”

Fingers gently wrapping around the branch, you pull it slightly down in your face, nose up against the blossom that it tickles your skin. The scent is soft, but still rich in a sensual sweetness. With a helpless smile, you turn to Hyunjin’s face which is rather quite closer than you recall, catching you a bit off guard but still leaving you to maintain composure.

“I see why it’s one of your favorites, it smells very pleasant.”

“Indeed.” His hot breath is felt against your skin, brown twinkling eyes adoring into yours, but only to be pulled away as a hysterical laugh booms from outside the walls.

“Fucking hell,” Mutters Hyunjin who has nothing but disappointment plastered upon his face. “Why must the world be so cruel when all I want is to show you peacefully around.”

“It’s okay, I certainly don’t mind. Unexpected company or not, I am without a doubt enjoying myself here,” You assure the boy, lightly patting his shoulder.

The dark doors open with a small creak, the iron handle given a clinking sound. The garden is now accompanied by three, the extra uninvited guest standing and peering at the two of you, face offering no emotion. The man’s finger scratches the side of his head of disheveled black hair. He stands tall, wearing what seems to be a spade card of seven draped over a black attire.

“Your majesty, I kindly expect to be informed about this situation here,” The stranger speaks huskily, face remaining still as stone.

“I assure you not to worry. I am spending the day with a very good friend of mine, nothing in the absurd. Now, what has had you sent here?”

“The Queen demands a fresh bouquet of fine red roses for tomorrow’s banquet, and with such the finely wild roses here, I bound to return to the castle after picking them.”

Hyunjin chuckles, hand slipping down to grab a hold of yours. “Quite a coincidence! You may go ahead as my dear friend and I were actually preparing to leave.” A lie. Definitely a lie since Hyunjin planned on staying for at least an hour more of telling you tales about the flowers. “Let’s go, Y/N,” He whispers in your ear, which most certainly doesn’t raise any suspicion from the newcomer or any confusion from you at all…

He leads you to exit the garden, hand gripping yours gently but firmly, and footsteps noticeably hurried, nervous one might manage point out. The other male just moves his head, fiercely glaring over his shoulder right into your eyes. That there just shares an anxious shiver down your spine. Everyone seemed more than friendly, or that is, until he approached. The intimidating sight disappears as Hyunjin closes the door behind, now letting out a sigh. A sigh of what? Relief or panic, perhaps both Hyunjin might answer.

Continuing to pull you forward back to where you previously came from, you quietly clear your throat, asking, “What was that about?”

There obviously was something off in the atmosphere once the strange man dressed as a card entered. The short visited garden due to the cold glares and insisted exits, a nervous undertone from your friend.

“I deeply apologize, darling. I did not plan on getting your hopes high only to leave so soon. I’m sorry for any uncomfortable feelings.” He sighs once again, head hanging low. A purposely dodged question, but an uttermost sincere apology to note.

You were itching to ask the question once again of what really had happened, but peering at him and taking notice of the frown that never left his face, you knew better than to. Looking slightly down with eyebrows knitted, he’s clearly deep in thought, and if only you could, you’d even see the worry dancing around in his eyes. Aside from this, something in the air already told you it’d be best to leave the conversation as is. So, to your unfortunates, you push all your questions of concern to the back of your head.

“It’s not a worry at all. Though the time was short, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this happy. So, very much, thank you, Hyunjin! This day still doesn’t fail to come to my appreciations.”

“A relief to hear that, so thank you. If you ache to see more as much as I, perhaps I could take you somewhere else? There’s a lovely river not too far; dozens of rose bushes remain untainted. I could take you there if you’d like. Maybe we could paint too.” He returns your gaze, his frown washed away, but bites his lip from nervousness. “B-but, if you’re not comfortable with that or want to go home, I-I can take you, it’s n-not a problem!”

“No, it’s okay, I promise!” A guilty pleasure: Hearing his stutters and seeing the tips of his ears burning red; It’s adoring to be the most honest. “I’d love to visit the river with the roses you speak of.”

The clouds faintly hang above in the soft pink and purple hued blue. There wasn’t all day left, but like dangerously piling berries in a basket or collecting more flowers than your hands are meant to hold, there still was time to stretch and spend until the last ounce.

And with all worries dissipated, he looks at you with a tender smile and crescent eyes.

And once again, such a look from him doesn’t miss to make your heart flutter.

“AH! So, the truthful words you dare to spill, my own son with such a girl! And despite being cornered in the garden, you dare not to get a hold of her?” Shrieks a high-pitched voice followed by frenzied giggles, all echoing off the castle’s marble walls.

“Your majesty, it did not seem the wisest choice at the time! Making such an impression that has a chance of failing? Why, the prince wouldn’t even let me approach her from several feet away! And—”

“You never fail to surprise me, always going about and missing opportunities like a mad fool with only a crooked mind. Especially when you bring me this news! You’ve outdone yourself, surely!” The Queen bursts out in even louder cackles, her head thrown back against the throne. The man of a seven spades card stands before her, hands fumbling around and nervously chuckling, unsure if he should join in on the laughter and unsure of his next move. The Queen then snaps, straightening her posture, leering with eyes that could nearly tear the guard apart themselves.

“YOU GODDAMN PRICK!!!” Everyone standing within the throne room flinches, which the Queen proudly notices. “Look! Look! I can promise next time will be worse if this girl isn’t in my grasp by the next four weeks! I can’t have the prince abandoning his duties and own throne like this nor does she even belong here. I truly cannot let my Wonderland given to her just like that!”

Every word is spit out with passion. Sinisterly passion. Pure insanity from the Queen of Hearts.

“Perhaps she isn’t as bad as most of us assume, your majesty. Perhaps! You should at least get to know of her and her capabilities,” Suggests the seven spades guard whose trying everything in his strength to not tremble under the intimidating gaze.

“I will gladly take your opinion, but I do have a request or two.”

“Yes, what ever is it you’d like me to do?”

“Follow them. Follow her! I’d like to know everything possible, from her effect on the Prince to how she even got here. But! You hollow-minded fool, please do be most utterly discreet about it.”

“As you wish, your majesty.”

#hwang hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #stray kids #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin oneshot #stray kids oneshot #stray kids imagines #skz ff #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz x you #hwang-hyunjin-x-reader #hwang hyunjin

66 notes · View notes

smeraldos · 3 years

Text

Love by Daylight (1/2)

➸ characters: Seokjin x Reader

➸ genres: Sailor Moon!AU, fluff, sort of e2l

➸ tags: sly friends, petty enemies/secret crushes, running away from the mortifying ordeal of being known

➸ words: 2K+

➸ summary: The day you find out who your suave partner in saving the world is, you're absolutely, positively, without a doubt sure you'll be over the moon. You'll be so happy you'll think you're dreaming. Turns out you're right. You do think you're dreaming. Because this? This can't be real. You're being pranked. Someone, somewhere, is going to jump out and say you're on Candid Camera. (Please.)

>> PART 2

When the lights fade and the facades fall, this is what you’re left with: Tuxedo Mask without a mask, you without your moonlit glamor. Tux the civilian is handsome, you can tell, and this is it—the moment you’ve been waiting for.

He lifts his face.

The youma's words come rushing back: Let the truth be known, the city’s deepest secrets shown.

Tuxedo Mask is none other than Kim Seokjin.

Suddenly, you’re reminded of a crystalline city; people bowing before you; Seokjin taking your hand, your matching rings gleaming in the light. Was it a memory or a dream?

You stand there, dumbfounded, until Tux/Seokjin dons his mask and brushes past. “Come on, Sailor Moon,” he says, sensible enough to use your alias. “The coast is clear. We’ve got a fight to finish.”

☾

“Why does it have to be Seokjin?" You whine, collapsing into bed and disturbing your sleeping cat. (In your defense, he was on your pillow. Which you’ve told him numerous times not to lay down on because his fur would shed.) Luckily, Agust is acquainted with your dramatic side and simply gets up to move.

“Well, why do you have to be Sailor Moon?” He points out. “It could have been someone less bothersome.”

“Hey,” you retaliate. “You’re the one who came to me. You could have given anyone the Lunar Key.”

“I didn't have a choice.”

“What do you mean you didn’t? You could have walked away and picked someone better, just like that.”

He scoffs. “Not when it’s the Queen.”

“Queen-schmeen." You flop back onto your bed, the springs creaking in protest. "I bet Her Royal Highness is on her throne right now, all nice and comfy. She couldn't care less."

Agust doesn't reply.

At first, you think it's because you've won and nothing else can be said, but when the silence stretches on, you know something is off. You sit up to see Agust no longer curled into himself, but sitting. He stares out your window into the night, his normally keen eyes empty. "She's dead."

Judging by his somber tone, she'd meant a lot to him. "I'm sorry," you whisper.

Agust sighs. "No need to apologize, kid. She was your mother, after all."

"My mother?"

"Not now," he amends. "But she was a long time ago, when you were the princess of the moon and Seokjin the prince of the earth.”

☾

The next morning, you head to school on time.

Your mom—present day mom—was surprised to see you up early, and Jeongguk called you out like the bratty brother he was (wow, no morning run today?), but the truth was you couldn’t sleep.

Last night, Agust recounted your past, how the dark eclipsed the moon. Although the queen tried her best to protect the kingdom, it was to no avail. Seokjin died in the fray, and you fell shortly after, helpless to save your beloved. In the end, the queen sacrificed herself to give you and Seokjin another chance at love, her people another chance at happiness.

A chance to rebuild the Silver Millennium.

The thing was, you didn’t know if that was what you wanted. Not that you’d want the Dark Kingdom to reign, but you weren’t sure whether you wanted to rule in your mother’s stead. Or marry Seokjin. Past you might have wanted to, but the you now could barely stand him. And neither could he. Or so you thought. You’d gotten along just fine with Tuxedo Mask, even grown a crush, but that wasn’t enough to warrant a marriage.

“Hello? Veen to Selene*?” Someone nudges your shoulder, and with a start, you notice Mina looking at you in concern.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Nothing yet, but it looks like you’ve got something on your mind. What’s up?”

You’re about to tell her when you see Seokjin approaching, his uniform blazer neatly pressed.

“Morning, ______,” Seokjin says. “Mina.”

“Morning,” you reply, ready for whatever biting remark he’d say next. But once Namjoon comes up, he leaves. That's it.

Even Mina, who hardly sees the two of you interact, notices. "That's the first time I've seen you guys polite. It's weird. What happened?"

After a discreet look around, you grab her by the elbow. “He's Tux,” you hiss, but Mina doesn’t look the least bit shocked. Her face breaks out into a giddy grin, like a child who’s finally tall enough to get on the big kid ride.

“You knew?” You ask, a little hurt she didn’t tell you.

She pouts, squishing your cheeks together. “Don’t be mad. You don't know how hard it was to keep it a secret.”

◑

You don't blame Mina, for the most part. It would have been better if you hadn’t known who Tuxedo Mask was, and vice versa. You felt like Cinderella running away from the ball, her beautiful dress giving way to rags and ratty shoes. If the prince caught up to her then, she’d probably be humiliated.

Just like you are now.

Tuxedo Mask has seen you at your most embarrassing moments, fighting to have the last word (or milkshake) as Seokjin, and also at your best, saving civilians with grace. You've only wanted him to see the best of you, for him to think of you as the perfect wonder-girl heroine everyone else saw you as, but he's seen almost every side. You don't know what he sees in you now, if anything. And frankly, you don't want to know.

"Have you ever thought that maybe he's thinking what you're thinking?" Mina asks. "You've seen all the good and bad in him, too."

"But it's different when he doesn't have a crush on Sailor Moon!" You say, exasperated.

"Oh, I wouldn’t be sure about that if I were you."

Seokjin thinking of your alter ego that way is embarrassing, but considering he's also Tuxedo Mask...now your face is red, you can feel it. Red as roses in bloom. "You're joking, right?"

"Why don't you wait and see," Mina replies, as cryptically as when she was Sailor V and you hadn't known any better. Having sympathy for you, she gives you a warm smile. "Don't stress out too much, Moon. You're amazing either way. Just talk to him."

◑

You think there's some reconnaissance to sort out first. When you walked into Crown Arcade and saw Seokjin talking to Jimin pretty intently, you didn’t want to interrupt...okay, who were you kidding? You chickened out.

But Jimin is his best friend, so he'll know how Seokjin feels the most, right? It's the next best alternative to actually speaking to Seokjin, which, well, you aren't ready for. Case in point: you've done the impossible and made yourself scarce. You aren’t about to break your streak now.

So the instant Seokjin leaves, you walk up to the counter. Jimin looks up from sprinkling a milkshake. "Hey. The usual?"

"Yeah, just double on the chocolate."

"You got it," he says, passing the drinks he finished making to a server. You watch him blend milk into ice cream, then reach over for a new cup to pour the mixture into later. It's all done with practiced ease, and you marvel at how quick he is, not to mention how beautiful the finished milkshake looks after. The chocolate is perfect, the whipped cream a cloud of snow drizzled with dark syrup.

Jimin slides it over with a grin. "Mademoiselle."

"Why, thank you," you say, digging in with gusto. This is exactly what "stressed is desserts spelled backwards," meant: Jimin's milkshakes never fail to kick your worries down a notch.

"Good?" He asks.

"Mhm," you mumble, more to your milkshake than to him, when the thought that you haven't paid yet crosses your mind. Oh gosh. You pull your purse onto your lap, but Jimin chuckles, stopping you.

"I've got it covered. Besides, I heard you weren't yourself lately."

"Really?"

He shrugs. "From the way you're devouring that, it's kind of hard to believe…"

You take an extra large mouthful to prove his point.

"But you only lay on the chocolate when you're bummed," he finishes, and you’d protest if you hadn’t made it a habit to drown your sorrows in his milkshakes. They were just too good to resist. Not to mention Jimin is a great listener. Your girls, although you love them, aren't always the best. You'd catch the moment they crossed over from attentive to "Is she done yet?" but with Jimin, you've never had that issue. Turns out you have a different one.

"I hate how perceptive you are."

He laughs. "You're just predictable."

"You know what? You can take back your milkshake and go back to work," you say in a fit of grumpiness, pushing the glass back to him.

"Are you sure you want me to do that?"

You meet him eye to eye. After a minute—a long, impressive minute might you add—you take it back. "Fine. What do you want to hear?"

"Anything you want to tell me. And if it's something you can't share, please tell someone you can. It's not great to keep things bottled up, trust me."

You sigh.

"Here's the deal," you begin, feeling a little weird telling your old crush about your new one, but marching through nevertheless, "I met someone on...online. He's nice and funny and understands me even though he's different. I just click with him, and eventually, I want to tell him I like him. The thing is, I don't really know who he is. We've been chatting on Discord and his profile picture is Tuxedo Mask, but he can't be Tuxedo Mask. Or maybe he is, who knows?"

Jimin laughs. If only he knew.

"Anywho," you continue, "I meet him and find out he's someone I actually know...but he's a pest. He always gets on my nerves and it's like he's a completely different person! I don't even know how that's possible, but apparently it is and it's just so frustrating."

Jimin doesn't speak for a while, which is fine by you. You take the time to jam spoonfuls of chocolate and cream into your mouth.

"You know," he finally says, amused, "that sounds a little like the plot to You've Got Mail."

"That isn't funny.” You huff. “Joe Fox was a jerk and I don't know why they played him off as charming."

"Isn't that what you think of the guy?"

"I never said he was a jerk."

"But you said he was a pest."

"That isn't the s—" You pull at your hair. "Ugh. I don't know anymore."

"Did you talk to him?"

"And what? Spill my complicated feelings?"

"No, just talk to him. You don't have to confess right now. Just air out the laundry and see where you guys are at. Chances are, if you're confused, then he's confused, too, and there's no way either of you can get out of it without talking to each other."

"I can't talk to him, Jimin. I avoided him for three weeks! He's going to hate me."

"He isn't," Jimin says firmly, and you wish you could have the same conviction. "Sure, he'll be upset, but if he's really someone who cares, he'll listen. Look, during that time you avoided him, did he try to reach out?"

"Well, I told him I didn't want to talk and he stopped asking."

"So he'll listen. If it turns out he hates you, give him a piece of your mind and I'll give you triple chocolate milkshakes on the house."

When he puts it like that, talking to Seokjin doesn't seem as dreadful. "You're not just saying that?"

"Have I ever said something I didn't mean?"

You get your answer when someone comes trudging in, holding up a bag from your go-to fast food joint. "Jimin! You better be grateful I drove all the way downtown to get you these burgers. Since when did you like ______'s favorite, anyways?"

"Since now," your traitor of a friend says. You glare at him, which he conveniently ignores.

"You're the best," he tells a surprised Seokjin, leaving with a pat on his shoulder. "Enjoy your meal!"

>> NEXT

...

note:

*Venus to Selene, like "Earth to [insert name]?" but replace Earth with Venus and [name] with Selene, Greek goddess of the moon

50 notes · View notes

the-what-now · 3 years

Text

Andromedatober #3

Day 3- Chase

(Day 1- Alone)

(Day 2- Memories)

(Day 4- June)

What was Calderon Lynch, Captain of the Andromeda Six, prepared to put up with when he woke up this morning?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t fucking this.

It was bad enough that his neck hurt, the ship’s air conditioning was broken (again), and he’d walked into the kitchen to find that someone had finished off his favorite coffee. Now he had the gunslinger in his face, in a tizzy over his missing lizard. The very same lizard he’d been against bringing onto the ship from the beginning. But hey, it wasn’t like anyone in this crew listened to him anyway.

Cal let out a long, slow sigh. It’s fine, he told himself, June he could handle; the big man was among the least irritating of his crew members, and he wouldn’t be bothering him if it wasn’t important.

“Where did you see him last?” Cal mumbled, barely turning his attention from the shitty instant coffee he now had to make do with.

“He was in his enclosure when I left him earlier this morning, and when I came back he was gone!” June responded, face furrowed with worry, “I know I had it secured, I don’t normally make mistakes like that—“

“Uh-huh. And how long was he left alone?”

“Well, not long I don’t think. I just went to get some practice in, walked around to find that rattling you were talking about, the prince asked me if he could play with Lizzie but I told him he’d have to wait cause he was still sleeping, and—“

That did it. Cal set his mug down with a loud thunk at the mention of him, staring at the World’s Best Dad lettering with the fury of a thousand suns.

“Xami.” He hissed under his breath, uttering the name like a curse. And with that he turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen without another word, on the warpath to track down the offending stowaway.

To Cal, the answer was clear: find Xami, and he’d find Lizzie. He was unsurprised, though, to find that no one else in the crew could tell him where the prince had gone; Ryona had been in the infirmary all morning, Ayame and Bash weren’t paying attention as usual, Xami was still avoiding Vexx like the plague, and Damon just plain couldn’t be assed to help him (“You pay me to stab people and look pretty, Commander, not keep tabs on runaway royals.”). Because nothing could ever be easy.

The assassin did, however, mention seeing him down at the docks, muttering something about trying to steal his reading spot. So there Cal found himself, pacing the dingy downstairs for the smallest of clues. Where could he have--

He stopped, kneeling down to pick something up off the floor, crinkling the discarded cellophane that had been tossed on the floor. Candy wrapper. He couldn’t be far. Straightening up, he got to work on hitting all the spots the prince could usually be found, prowling like some feral stray cat.

Not here. Not there. Not there either. Cal was almost ready to throw his hands up and tell June to find his own damn pet, when something caught his ear. A quiet skittering from the hallway outside, followed by footsteps, quick and light. There! He burst out of the room just in time to see the tail end of that familiar black coat, vanishing around the far corner. Cursing under his breath, Cal gave chase, unconcerned with the noise he was making. So close, he was so close…

He turned the corner to find his quarry nowhere in sight, and several doors he could have gone through. He threw open every single one of them, growing increasingly manic with every empty room. Nothing. It was as though the stowaway had vanished into thin air. That’s it, he’d had enough.

“Where the fuck--”

A low chuckle, sounding from somewhere above him. Cal looked up to find a sight that both relieved and infuriated him: Xamidimura Peg’asi, perched up in the rafters, Lizzie nestled safely in his arms and looking down on the captain with a shit-eating grin. “Looking for something?” He called down, violet eyes dancing impishly. Cal glared up at the Tilaari.

“What the hell are you doing up there?” He growled. Xami shrugged, patting the lizard gently.

“Trying to catch this little guy. June had just told me he was sleeping when I saw him so I figured he must have gotten out. No idea how he got all the way up here, but I grabbed him just in time. You’re welcome,” he adds, sticking his tongue out slightly.

“Get down here. Right now.” Cal demanded. Rolling his eyes in amusement, Xami hopped down from his perch without protest, landing lightly on his feet in front of the captain. It still surprised him sometimes, how nimble the young prince was despite living such a sheltered life. But right now he was too angry to give it much thought.

“Jeez,” Xami snarked, “this is the thanks I get? Maybe I should just mind my business next time the bitey lizard escapes his cage. Not like Bash needs all his fingers, anyway.”

“Don’t lie. You let him out yourself.”

Xami put a hand to his heart in mock horror. “Why, sir, I’m offended by that allegation! I am a good, upstanding navigator, and I always try to do right by my crew!” When met with only a continued glare, he frowned, “But seriously, why would I do that? June already told me I couldn’t see him, you really think I don’t know how to take no for an answer?”

Cal relented slightly, his expression morphing into a dry hint of a smile. “Never stopped you before,” he retorted. The prince looked up thoughtfully at that. He did have a point.

“Lizzie! There you are!” June suddenly appeared at the end of the hallway, rushing towards the two of them and taking his beloved lizard from Xami, the Tilaari happily handing him off.

“Found him trying to scale the wall,” Xami said with a laugh, “clever little dude gave you the slip.”

“Y-yeah, I guess he did,” June agreed, then looked at Cal sheepishly, “I’m so sorry, Captain, I just checked his enclosure and it looks like there was a latch loose. He must have gotten it open somehow.” The tight smile slid right off Cal’s face at that. Xami had been telling the truth, then. June’s gaze darted between the two of them for a moment, before he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Anyway, um...thanks for finding him, Xami. I’ll get that door fixed right away. Sorry. Again.” And with that, June turned and shuffled down the hallway and out of sight, Lizzie in hand.

Cal could barely stand to look Xami in the eye, so smug was his expression. Instead he stared at a spot on the floor, mumbling an apology. “So...sorry. I guess.”

“Hm? What was that? I didn’t catch it.”

“I’m...I’m sorry.” Cal repeated, a little louder through gritted teeth.

“And whatever are you sorry for?”

“For not believing you. About the lizard.” He barely had time to react before feeling Xami’s arms wrap around him, the prince smooshing his face unceremoniously into his chest.

“Of course I forgive you,” Xami laughed, looking up to flash him a crooked grin, “I could never stay mad at you...sir.” Cal let out a breath of a laugh, running his hands through the Tilaari’s pale hair. He had to admit, this pain in the ass had his good points too. And he’d miss him an awful lot if he were gone.

“Yeah. Likewise.”

#andromedatober #andromeda six #A6 #calderon lynch

12 notes · View notes

girlmeetsliv3 · 4 years

Text

Prince of Nothing III

~ Part Three of Five ~

Release Date: July 17,2020 @ 12 a.m. (GMT-4)

Word Count: 6,646

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything except for you…

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything: heaven, hell, and everything in between. His family was an enigma who came to power under mysterious circumstances and had managed to retain hold over the kingdom for centuries - even if no one knew how. There was one thing that Jungkook wanted though, something that could never be his: you. A nobody. A girl with no title. No land. Just money and a pure soul to your name. Jeon Jungkook would’ve never spared a look your way, had that incident not occurred. Now you find yourself the target of his affection and the most hated woman in all the land. Which will kill you first?

Trigger Warning: Some of the contents in this story may not be suitable for all audiences. These include toxic relationships, manipulation, gore and various forms of abuse as well as rationalization of said abuse. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

A small part of Yoongi trembles at the sight of the light blue house just a few feet away. It had been several weeks since he’d been there and it took all of his self-control, and a bit more, to stay away. It was his safe space. Somewhere he felt incredibly safe and after the guilt threatened to eat him alive Yoongi needed a break. Needed his songbird to take away his pain even if it was momentarily. The driver opened the car door, allowing him to step out. His saunter was light, feet barely touching the ground, even though he desired nothing more than to break into a sprint. Min Yoongi must always maintain an air of pacificity and general aloofness. Emotions were a weakness and now that the prince was aware of his, Yoongi had to proceed with caution.

“Welcome home, Master.”

“Where is he?”

Yoongi wasted no time with pleasantries. His cat-like eyes darted around every corner of the room attempting to find any trace of his beloved. “He’s in the garden master. He hasn’t eaten much since your departure.” Yoongi sighed, heading towards the back porch. There were many places that his songbird was allowed to be inside the manor, but he always preferred the garden. It was the only piece of the outside world he was entitled to see, Yoongi had told him it was for his protection. Even if they both knew it was a lie.

As he turned the corner he suddenly stopped, from where he stood he could see the porch in all its entirety. The glass that encased it allowed for one to view the beauty of the outside world without being exposed to the harshness the elements may bring. It was a beautiful day, the setting sun filtered through the glass creating prisms of rainbows which danced around the room but what shined brightly was him: draped longingly across the plush blue velvet chaise. The tan of his skin glowed effortlessly and Yoongi always found himself admiring it. When he wasn’t admiring the pillowy lips, sharp eyes, and rounded bottom that is.

“Songbird?” The man in question paid him no mind, despite Yoongi knowing he'd been heard. Slowly he approached him, his songbird was delicate yet ferocious. Life had forced him to live on extremes to survive and though Yoongi wished he could say that all of this had changed since being in his care - it had only worsened.

“I thought you would’ve replaced me by now. Seeing as you have found yourself a new toy.” There was an edge to the man’s tone, the words almost withered at the end.

Yoongi rushed towards him, his strong arms cradling his fragile lover, as he tried to calm his fears. “No, my love. That wasn’t for me. It was a favor I did for the prince.” His songbird stilled in his arms, he had only met the prince once in his life but it was enough to instill fear in him forever. A repressed memory of blood and screams flashing in front of the young man’s eyes. Yoongi didn’t understand why his lover struggled to get out of his hold.

“J-”

“So you’ve condemned someone else to suffer the same fate as I have?!" There it was the rage in his eyes. Yoongi shakes his head ready to defend himself, but his love doesn't buy it. "Why else would a Jeon be interested in a commoner?!" Despite all his efforts, Yoongi managed to maneuver the man back into his arms. Yoongi felt fire travel through his veins, vexed at how his beloved behaved.

“Don’t speak as if you are a prisoner. I have given you the world.”

“In return, you’ve locked me away in a cage, so that your songbird may only sing for you.”

Yoongi scoffs, shoving his songbird off him and standing up. "If you don't want me then, I'll leave. Wallow in your self-pity by yourself." Before Yoongi could take even a step away, the younger man had grabbed hold of his wrist. It was several seconds of tense silence before he finally spoke. "I've longed for you so much. Please don't leave me alone again." Just like that his songbird was broken once again, unable to sing. Tenderly, Yoongi placed his hands on either side of his lover's cheeks, cupping them gently as he leaned in closer. Their kiss was superficial, one-sided, but it didn't mean it wasn't passionate. Even if one side was fulled by love and the other by loathing.

YN ran through the long-winded corridors attempting to find a way out. She had been running for several minutes now and knew that she couldn’t be too far off from a staircase or the servant’s quarters, but her surroundings remained the same. It felt as if she was running in place. As if the castle itself was determined to not let her escape. Eventually, YN’s body grew depleted and she rested against the wall, listening intently for either guards or her captor to come to find her. It was the rhythmic clicking of heels that alerted her that someone was near. Vito, who had been comfortably resting upon YN’s forearm trailed up her body, wrapping across her neck and dangling down: ready to attack.

Jungkook had given YN a weapon, one that wouldn’t attack him, but wouldn’t hesitate to defend her. It caused her to worry, it meant that the prince was certain he was not the only threat to her safety. It seems there were those who were bigger and worse than him - or liked to pretend they were. Mistress Eun rounded the corner, her flamboyant yellow dress caused her to stick out like a sore thumb. It had been weeks since YN had seen the woman responsible for her brother’s death. If it were up to Eun both of them would be six feet under. Mistress Eun, in a world of her own, didn’t notice YN until they were mere feet apart. Her expression was one of shock before she quickly schooled it, grinning maliciously.

“Well if it isn’t the talk of the town.” Eun’s eyes dragged down YN’s figure and a disgruntled look overcame her face when she noted how YN’s lavish gowns far surpassed hers. “If it isn’t the prince’s whore, look at you effectively climbing up the social ladder. What would your brother say?”

YN didn’t respond, too furious to even attempt too, on the outside though she looked nonchalant and that bothered the older woman. It enraged her. “You really ought to be thanking me, child, if it weren’t for me you would have never met the prince. Likely would’ve died in a pigsty with no one to remember you.” The wrath turned icy cool and YN began to wonder if this is how Jungkook felt at times. She could almost hear him whispering to her: Do it. Hurt her. You know you want to. Mistress Eun stepped closer to YN, face mere inches away from hers as she hurled more insults. “The two of you were rats. Pests. If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t be here so don’t think so highly of yourself. You’re just a plaything to spare his boredom.” YN smirked causing Eun’s blood to boil.

You wouldn’t get caught. It would be so simple. Vito could do it. YN tightened her fists, letting her nails dig into the palms of her hands.

“Then again, had your brother simply accepted to sleep with me and not embarrassed me with his rejection he’d still be alive.” Had Eun known those words would seal her fate, perhaps she’d have been more careful. Though it is unlikely she would have, she was never particularly smart and always brash.

YN’s hands flew around Eun’s throat tightening and squeezing as Vito jumped out aiding her. Do it! Kill her! It was not her voice inside her head, it was not her controlling her movements. Once YN realized that she ripped her hands off Eun's throat, taking Vito with her. By then, however, it was too late. Mistress Eun lay dead on the castle floor. The shock caused YN to remain frozen staring at the hollow eyes that seemed to plead at her. Her haze dropped to her hands where Vito was resting, they were shaking incessantly. Jungkook’s voice was no longer in her head, but YN was certain it wasn’t a delusion. What is going on? Strong arms wrapped around YN’s torso hoisting her up, YN’s reaction was too delayed to have been able to do anything.

It was someone YN had never met, blonde ashen hair stood out against his dark palette. He cast one glance at Eun before his hooded eyes fell upon YN a sense of familiarity in them. “The guards will be here any second. Run straight and turn left, there is a large tapestry attached to the wall. Push against it with all your might, it’s a door. Follow the sound of the cicadas and you’ll make it out.” YN parted her lips to question him, but she heard the distant murmurs of guards. “Take that thing with you.” The stranger looked disparagingly at Vito who hissed back. YN gripped the serpent in her hand and took off, sparing one final glance at the mysterious stranger.

Jungkook held the mouse over Morte’s head, allowing the snake to lunge before quickly moving it away. This continued until the activity eventually grew dull and Jungkook let the dead mouse drop into the snake’s jaw. The young prince rolled over onto his bed, his mind drifting towards YN’s fear-ridden expression when she’d failed at hurting him. Not to mention the look of shock when he’d called her his queen. The girl was full of surprises and was like a drug to Jungkook - strangely addicting. A part of him longed to be near her at all times but knew that wouldn’t be the smartest decision. There were always eyes on Jeon Jungkook, but now there were eyes on YN too and he couldn’t risk it. Not if he wanted his plan to work.

Morte stilled beside him alerting Jungkook to the potential danger. Jungkook lifts himself from his bed, looking towards the door. Awaiting the knock that was sure to come, Jungkook wondered who would be so audacious as to bother him in his bed chambers. They were likely more reckless than bold. "Come in." Jungkook mumbles, seconds later Seo Kangjoon is greeting him. Jungkook supposes he should have known it wouldn't be long before the Seo’s came to force his hand. It aggravated him to no end that they thought he would simply bend over to their will. The Seo’s held power: their family was the head of agriculture in the land. The crown needed them for crops and they were very popular, along with the peasantry, seen as beautiful yet polite people. What a fucking joke. Jungkook saw through their facade, much like everyone else the Seo’s were desperate for more power. Becoming part of the royal family would provide that in unprecedented amounts.

“To what do I owe the pressure of having the Kangjoon in my bedroom unannounced? Hoping for a repeat of that night?” Jungkook smirked, seeing Kangjoon visibly tense. The prairie’s golden boy had too much to drink during his bachelor’s night and Jungkook was there to witness his true depravity. Kangjoon shook his head, “Would you have accepted my requests to see you had I done so officially, your highness?” It annoyed the prince to no end how Seo refused to play along. Kangjoon wasn’t as smart as Soojin, not by any means, but it was his sex that determined he be the heir. Even if Soojin was destined to rule. Though Kangjoon’s intelligence lay in his practicality - which is why he always refused to engage in mind games with the prince. He knew he’d lose.

“I am here to warn you.” Oh? "I have a meeting with the king to discuss your marriage with my cousin. We don't wish to force the hand of a future family member, but given the recent developments, we are quite embarrassed. I hope you understand." Kangjoon bowed deeply, excusing himself before heading towards the King's corridors. Jungkook gazed out towards his spot, his hand lashed out gripping the canopy of his bed and in one swift move, it crushed in his hand. It almost landed on his snake had Morte not had fast reflexes. Jungkook left the room searching for his beloved fiance.

Soojin had never looked worse. The purple welts around her neck were too small and thin to have been caused by human hands leading Jungkook to assume it had been Vito who’d done the damage and not YN. Still, Soojin’s usually perfect hair was a tangled mess that darted in every direction and her almond eyes were puffy and red around the edges. The second she saw Jungkook she let him know who was to blame, “She did this to me.” Jungkook didn’t answer simply kissing her forehead gently, Soojin leaned into his embrace. Soojin places her head in the crook of the prince’s neck closing her eyes. Her neck ached painfully, but she had refused any more medication not wanting to see the pitying look of the palace’s healer.

“Your cousin is here to speak to my father about our wedding.”

Soojin stills, raising her head cautiously. She recognizes the edge in Jungkook’s tone. “I’m sorry. It isn’t him, but my mother who insists we be wed. I told her about the king, but-”

“Shush.” Jungkook smiled tenderly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s okay, I forgive you.” Soojin frowned, confused by his words, Jungkook hated being told what to do. Undermining him to go see his father would have definite consequences. “In fact, I think they’re right.” Soojin pulled away from Jungkook, needing space to properly comprehend what he was saying.

Jungkook smiles, dimples on show, “Let’s get married.”

YN had been walking for hours, it had been evening when YN had escaped but something told her it was nearing dawn. The corridors were cold and damp, unlike the rest of the palace they looked incredibly old. A testament to its legacy. The cold had been too much for Vito who was now nestled inside YN’s bosom, needing heat to survive. Being unable to properly see anything in front of her due to the darkness, it made her footing sloppy. So, when she stepped on a loose stone and twisted her ankle she went down with great force. “Fuck.” It was then that YN began to wonder if she would die inside the castle walls. Her body withering away until nothing, but a corpse remained. Would she join her brother? Or had her actions led to her having a reserved space in hell? YN was somewhat surprised Jungkook hadn’t found her yet but was also terrified that her thoughts seemed to always go to him.

It was as if she was under a spell. Though it was certain that Jungkook had found a way to bind Vito to her, she didn't want to focus on how she questioned if the prince had done the same thing to them. Before with Eun, she had not been herself. As if someone were coercing her into doing said things. YN trembled with fear if Jungkook could coerce her into murder then what else could he have her do?

“He’s a menace!”

Her head snapped left as she heard more yells and strange noises. YN pushed herself up from the ground with the little strength that remained and walked towards them. Soon enough, YN saw a light, getting closer; she saw what looked like a window peering into the room. Upon closer inspection, it was a mirror that looked into someone’s private office though who YN couldn’t decipher. Not until the figure emerged from the corner babbling to himself in an incoherent way that explained his state of mind. “Jungkook has been a murderer since the day he was born and will lead this kingdom to ruin if I don’t stop him!” YN’s hands flew up to her mouth to stop the gasp. YN had heard much about King Jeon the II growing up, the man was ferocious in the way only a Jeon could be. Still, he paled in comparison to Jeon the I, and that meant the war and social injustices that had long plagued the kingdom ended during his reign, or so it seemed.

YN couldn’t see all of him now, his back was towards her as the King faced a portrait hanging on the wall. Nonetheless, she could recognize the familiar slope of his shoulders and rigid posture as something his son had inherited. Yes, Jungkook was very much his father but managed to surpass him at a young age in just about every aspect. Even the love of his people. For that, it was said the king would always despise him but the real reason lay in the portrait he spoke to. No one knew much about the late Queen only that she was effortlessly beautiful and seeing her portrait YN couldn’t agree more. She held a softness to her that contrasted greatly with her husband and son, though if YN looked deeper she could see Jungkook had parts of her too.

Jeon muttered to himself once more and it dawned on YN that he was speaking to the portrait. "You're right my love. If I do it the people will turn against me, but if we blame the Kim girl…" YN's eyes widened, she stepped back, her back hitting the stone wall behind her. At that moment, Jeon freezes as if aware he's being watched. "Come out." The king speaks lowly, all the anguish has gone from his voice. In a split second, he draws a dagger from his clothes and sends it hurtling toward its target. But instead of the mirror, it is the door. YN doesn't waste the opportunity and flees once more.

"Mistress Eun was found dead last night. Similar attack to the one that occurred to the princess, Miss YN is nowhere to be found." Baekhyung announces loudly, his back bent at a ninety-degree angle to not offend the crown prince. Jungkooks nods, wiping his hands free of blood before returning to the book on his desk. Baekhyung grimaces slightly at the sight before him, knowing it’ll be him cleaning up the mess as the maids won’t go near the body. “Make sure to find her Baekhyung and bring her back to me.” Jungkook picks up the book leaning back in his chair, the title ‘Golden Ones’ had always drawn the guards attention but he knew to ponder any further would get him killed.

“What is the official story, your highness?”

Jungkook cast one final glance at Kangjoon’s corpse, it was a bloody mess with the heart ripped out and blood still oozing. The prince would have to replace his favorite carpet. “The king was so upset with having his hand forced about the Seo matter that he lost it and killed their last male heir. What a tragedy.” Baekhyung nods, before tilting his head towards Jinyoung who sighed under his breath and helped him carry the body out.

By the time YN had managed to escape dawn had broken and the sky was a pleasant mix of oranges, pinks, and purples all blended. Perhaps it had been the fact that YN had remained surrounded by darkness all night, that it had been so long since she had felt the warmth of the sun on her skin and the beauty of nature surrounding her that caused YN to stop. Vito was still asleep, YN felt exhaustion spread throughout her body. She began to sway from one side to the next and knew it wouldn’t be long until she collapsed. YN forced herself to continue forward, attempting to reach the edge of the forest before anyone caught her. The more distance she traveled the farther away the forest seemed. YN wasn’t sure if her perception was muddled or there was something else at play here.

It wouldn't matter anyway for the prince's guard hounds were on her tail. "You there! What do you think you're doing?!" YN let out a sigh of frustration. Every damn time. YN watched a large man with dark hair and thick eyebrows approach her, a bit of tension leaving her body when she realized he must have been a regular guard and not part of the knighthood. “I’m sorry, I was visiting my sister in the servant’s quarters when I got lost.” YN couldn’t think of anything more convincing but figured something complex wouldn’t work well in her case. The guard’s eyes narrowed, “As if I’m going to believe that. You look like a common whore, probably hoping to snag some nobleman, huh?”

The guard gripped her tightly pulling her close so that their bodies were touching. Almost instantaneously, the man fell to his knees back twisting painfully as he groaned out in pain. “I would refrain from touching what isn’t yours.” YN recognized the voice and turned around to see Jinyoung accompanied by another man dressed in similar attire. “The prince wouldn’t appreciate knowing some lowlife dirtied his favorite toy.” YN’s face scrunched up in disgust at Jinyoung’s words, she began to wonder whether she could escape the men but it seems they were onto her.

“Miss YN, the prince has been searching for you all night. He requests your presence.” The shorter one spoke, YN raised her eyebrow at him but he simply smiled. “Kim Baekhyung, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” YN ignored him, “You can tell the prince that I dissent his request.” Jinyoung smiled, “Ah, I forgot to mention the prince never did say we had to bring you back in one piece.”

“Oh, how you always manage to surprise me, darling.” Jungkook’s smug smile was far too large for YN’s liking. She’d been brought to his chambers against her will and judging from the glint in his eyes, he had something planned. “I’m happy to see you’ve taken a liking to Vito.” He eyed the snake draped across her décolletagle. YN crossed her arms over her chest as Vito slithered down her body towards Morte’s resting bed, desiring to be with the other snake. “Look their friends.” Jungkook seemed too enthusiastic to YN which was the exact opposite of what he normally was.

“Morte could eat him alive.”

“That’s what makes it fun.”

Jungkook turned his attention back to YN, noticing the state of distress of her gown before his eyes crawled back to her. “So tell me,” Jungkook leaned back onto the settee tilting his head slightly. “How did you escape?” If Jungkook knew about YN’s discovery then she’d be screwed. Though YN was beginning to pierce through the enigma that was Jeon Jungkook, she could never be sure whether she had managed to evade his game or play right into it. “Your fiance tried to murder me.” Jungkook shrugged, “I expected as much. Lions are volatile creatures, hot-headed too, best not to mess with them.” YN rolled her eyes, “The only reason Soojin attacked me was because of you. Shouldn’t it be you facing the actions of your consequences?!”

“You would blame a man in love?”

YN scoffed, “This isn’t love, it’s nothing but a game to you.”

“You’re wrong. It’s a love game.” Jungkook smirked, enjoying intensely how YN’s brows furrowed in frustration.

“What did you call me in for, your highness?”

Jungkook stood up abruptly, YN's stepped back a few feet in trepidation, something that the twisted prince enjoyed. He lifts his hand and brushes YN's lower lip delicately, "I wanted to tell you to switch your m.o. Strangulation is far too noticeable. I'd hate for you to draw unwanted attention." Slowly he circled YN letting his hand trail above her torso. "It was an accident, I didn't want to hurt her." Jungkook chuckled, arms wrapping tightly around YN's waist. "Who, darling?" His lips brushed the long arch of her neck, his arms tightening every second that passed by. "Soojin or Eun? Which one was an accident?" YN cast her eyes downward focusing on the snakes noticing how Morte had wrapped around Vito and was embracing him, or was it the other way around?

"You made me do it." YN struggled to get the words out, all she could see was Eun's dead body. All she could remember was the feeling of wringing her throat out until nothing remained. Jungkook gripped her chin, "Did I make you do it? Or did I permit you?" When they kissed it was tender so opposed to how the prince usually was. Jungkook was holding her as if afraid she would break. The kiss immediately distracted YN and she couldn't help but give in to it, just to escape the darkness in her mind. That is until a bitter tang filled her mouth and went down her throat. YN pushed away from Jungkook, spitting out his blood from her mouth.

Jungkook smiles sadistically, his tongue swiping across his lips to clean any remnants of blood. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" YN screams wiping her mouth in utter disgust. The man in question rolls his eyes as if the answer was oh so obvious. "I love you that's what." YN knew it was never good to reveal a trump card as it may come in handy later on, but she would have given anything at that moment to knock Jeon Jungkook down a peg or two.

“Your father is plotting to murder you.”

Instantly, Jungkook's face crumbled, his eyes widening in shock as he numbly asked, "What?" He looked so much like a lost child and YN felt regret pool at her stomach until his expression changed to one of rage. In the blink of an eye, Jungkook stood in front of YN, hand wrapping tightly around her neck as he lifted her from the ground. "What did you say?" YN struggles against his hold, her hands clawing at his to get him to let go. The only did he did was place her back on the ground, but his clasp remained.

“I saw him speaking to a portrait of a woman. He was going on and one about how you were a murderer from a young age and a threat he had to put a stop to.”

The pupil had all but consumed the iris in Jungkook’s eyes allowing YN to see herself perfectly reflected in them. “I don’t fucking believe you,” Jungkook screamed though there was a hint of pain towards the end that YN latched onto. “I swear it’s the truth!” She searched her mind for anything, any detail, that could convince the distrustful man that what she was saying was the truth. YN was beginning to feel dizzy as if she could pass out at any second, finally, she remembered. “S-she had your eyes.” Jungkook’s eyes filled with unshed tears as he let go of YN, letting her crumble to the ground. YN wheezed as she tried to regain her lost breath, well aware of the glare the prince had fixed on her.

“And how exactly were you in the king’s private study?”

In her disoriented state, the words slipped right out. “I saw it through a mirror.”

A moment passed before Jungkook smiled once more, a small ‘Ah’ leaving his lips. “You found the corridors. That’s how you escaped.” He crouched down in front of YN, “Though I doubt you’re aware of all of them, so you must’ve stumbled upon the one behind the tapestry.” Jungkook reached out patting down YN’s frazzled hair and tugging one side of it behind her ear. “Don’t worry I’ll have it sealed soon enough.” YN shoves his hand away, climbing to her feet. “I should have never told you.” Jungkook nods, “If it weren’t for your kindness you might have had me off your hands.”

He went to continue speaking but suddenly paused as if something had just occurred to him. “Why did you tell me?”

“He was going to pin it on me.”

A pause, then. “You aren’t as selfless as you think you are.”

News traveled fast of the wedding meant to bind the Seo’s and Jeon’s, while Jungkook had yet to mention it to YN there were too many outside forces for him to be able to avoid going through with it. Something which caused her great satisfaction. Though it was a cloudy day, YN found she enjoyed being outside nonetheless. Sana was currently by her side enjoying how the king’s many hunting dogs pranced around the garden. They were in the balcony near the throne room, YN was once again dressed in the finest garbs money could buy - Sana having forced her into them.

“Don’t worry, Mistress. I’m sure everything will be fine.” Sana reached out, squeezing YN’s shoulder comfortingly.

YN had told Sana everything one night after having one too many cups of wine and being cared for by the maid during her bath. Sana had assured YN that as much as the prince desired to wed her, as long as she was a peasant it wouldn’t be allowed. She wasn’t too certain that Jungkook wouldn’t be able to find a loophole, but it pacified her nerves. Not to mention her prompt meeting with the king had caused more rumors to surround her. Even while she was certain it was just Sana and her, YN could feel eyes piercing through her.

“Miss Kim?”

YN turned around to see Baekhyung bowing before her, instantly YN knew something was wrong. “They’re ready for you.”

When YN stepped foot inside the room it was filled with nobility, hushed whispers of incredulity falling from their mouth. Sitting perched upon the throne with a crown resting upon his perfectly styled hair was the prince of everything, Jeon Jungkook himself. No. It can’t be. He wouldn’t have…

“Unfortunately, my father is ill and won’t be able to attend any of his royal duties today, so I shall do it in his place,” Jungkook announced to the crowd of people, the second he spoke a deadly silence weighed over the room. Whether it was out of fear or respect was yet to be deciphered. Jungkook fixed his stare on YN and she could swear the prince blinked at her, but it was to quick to tell. "As most of you are aware by now, Mistress Eun has suddenly passed due to her misuse of substances. This has caused her land and title to have been lost." Jungkook wasn't just speaking to YN, but everyone.

“Due to her lands needing to be tended for and properties managed, someone needs to step forward to claim.” His dark eyes fixed on YN, “I hereby name Miss YN Kim and her heir’s sole proprietor of Eun’s lands and assets. Thereby granting her the title of Lady.” YN stilled in fear, but aware of the eyes on her she bowed deeply. “Thank you, your royal highness.” She spoke through gritted teeth. Once again Jeon Jungkook had won.

“A Kim?!”

“The king must be really out of his mind.”

“Another Kim in court? Isn’t one enough?”

“Everyone knows the real reason she received them. Has she no shame?!”

“Lady Kim,” YN turned around to see the crown of someone’s head, the ashy blonde hair all too familiar. It’s him. The man who had found Eun’s body and helped her escape. But why? The man rose from his bow, YN being able to see the deadly look in his eye. “Lord Kim Namjoon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” YN’s eyes widened, but Namjoon remained unaffected. Taking her hand into his and placing a small kiss over the knuckles. Though Jungkook was nowhere in sight, YN was certain she could feel him gauging her. If Jungkook knew it was Namjoon who aided her escape, heads would roll. Best to pretend then, it seems that is what Namjoon desired to do as well.

“Pleasure is mine, my lord. I was unaware there was another Kim in court.”

Namjoon smirked, “It’s not necessarily something the King would so openly acknowledge.” He tilted his head away from the crowd, signaling her to follow him. As they walked YN could hear more hushed gossip surrounding her, but most of it came from faceless individuals - no one of importance. “You’ve managed to cause quite a stir in your short time here, my lady.”

“It wasn’t my intention to do so.”

“Still I am not surprised, a woman as beautiful as yourself is bound to cause a ruckus anywhere.”

YN blushed, “You toy with me, my lord.”

Namjoon smirked, a wicked gleam in his eye that said he was. “I would never dare.”

They stopped moving and YN realized Namjoon had maneuvered her away from the crowd, still close enough that they were in the room, but too far away for anyone to hear what was being discussed. YN longed to know why he’d helped her but figured that it hadn’t been done altruistically. The young lord stepped forward, “If I were to be so bold as to offer a word of advice, my lady?” A chill went down YN’s spine and her hand tightened into a fist, wishing Vito was there with her. “You’ve been so bold already,” YN cast her eyes around the room seeing Sana standing by the door speaking to Jinyoung. Her brow furrowed as the two seemed to be in a heated discussion. “I don’t see what harm a bit more could do.” She turned back to Namjoon who seems to have followed her line of sight.

“Are you familiar with your family’s history?”

“I have no family.”

“You are a Kim are you not?”

“It is only a name.”

Namjoon chuckles, “Ah, but what’s in a name?” Once again the lord stepped closer, “May I recommend the story of Soo and So? I think you’ll find it quite an intriguing read.”

“As much as I’d like to, my lord, I own no such story or book. I’d doubt the king is stocked up on history books that do not relate to him.”

“Ah, that is true. What a shame indeed.”

Sana trailed behind her quietly, something YN found quite odd as the girl tended to be incredibly lively. Perhaps Sana pitied her given the circumstance, but that couldn’t be it. The girl had previously stated how much more she enjoyed being YN’s personal maid than having to run around the castle. Maybe she’s tired? Or maybe it had something to do with her conversation with Jinyoung - YN's guard dog. Before they reached the door leading to YN's bedroom Sana suddenly halted. "I'm sorry mistress, but if I could be excused? I'm not feeling all too well." YN was a bit shocked but nodded nonetheless. She was about to ask Sana if there was anything she could do to help, but the maid had already runoff.

YN sighed, unlocking the door to her bedroom. When she entered she noticed Vito was feasting on his latest meal, so YN shed her dress and headed straight for bed. Hoping to catch some sleep before dinner was delivered, her actions stopped when she noted the gift placed on her bed. It was nicely wrapped in fine silk with a ribbon on top, peeling back the layers YN found it was a book. When she opened it, a note fell out:

I could only find the abridged version, apologies - KNJ

YN’s hands ran through the spine and bold lettering at the front, the words ‘Golden Ones’ peering back at her in a metallic red.

Jeon Jungkook had just finished his bath when his peace was once again disturbed by the rasping of knuckles on his door. He groaned asking who it was as he imagined harming whoever deemed themselves important enough to intrude on his time. Imagine the surprise on the young prince’s face when none other than his lover appeared. “Well, to what do I owe this surprise?” YN stood hesitantly by the door consciously trying to convince herself not to back out of the plan. If he was annoyed at her silence he didn’t say anything instead Jungkook tilted his head and asked, “What game are you playing?”

YN stepped into the room, closing the door behind her careful not to turn around. Jungkook was like a predator - eye contact was essential for survival. YN’s eyes danced around the room not finding Morte anywhere in sight. “I’ve decided to not play any games. I know I’ll never beat you.”

Jungkook smirks, eyeing YN's figure up and down. "Well then, this may be the most fun game we've ever played."

YN ambled towards Jungkook, their eyes remaining on each other. Waiting for the moment the other faltered to strike.

“Where’s your pet, my lady?”

“In my bedroom, your highness. He is shedding.”

“Where’s Morte?”

“Where she needs to be.”

As they neared each other Jungkook took a seat at the edge of his bed, encouraging YN to join him. YN straddled Jungkook, trying to calm her racing heart from giving her away. “What am I to you?” Her eyes were wide and honest, as she asked. It had been foolish to think the answer would change.

“My Queen.”

It was the intensity of the prince’s stare that caused YN to look away, her eyes landed on a glass and gold chessboard. “I’ve never been a good player.”

Jungkook chuckled, eyes-rolling. “I doubt that’s true.” His warm breath fanned her neck causing goose-bumps to rise.

“Isn’t the king the most vulnerable of them all?”

Jungkook nods, letting his lips brush against hers trying to draw her attention back onto him. “Which is why he needs a powerful queen.”

YN chuckled, parting her lips and allowing the venom laced words to hit their target. “Good thing, Soojin will be your queen.”

The prince visibly tenses, his hand coming to grip YN’s waist tightly. He forces her to look at him as his eyes filled with a heady mix of lust and rage. “That’s a dangerous game you're playing, love.”

YN shrugs, “I’m not playing a game. I’m only trying to prove a point.”

“Oh?” Jungkook uses his grip on YN’s waist to push them closer together, leaving only centimeters between the star-crossed lovers.

“What you feel or think you feel is not love. It’s infatuation fueled by lust.” YN allowed her lips to brush Jungkook’s, though they never fully kissed. “I’m just a shiny new toy you want to play with until you get bored.”

"I will never tire of you YN, you can be certain of that." Jungkook's tongue swiped across his lips to moisten them. "Though if you are so certain, let's have a wager." Jungkook released his hold on her waist allowing YN to move away. Now that they stood feet apart, it felt as if this was a serious affair. "If what I feel for you is nothing more than infatuation, I promise to let you go." He lifted his palm as if taking an oath.

YN scoffed, “No. If I am right, then you will marry Soojin and make her your queen.” She wasn’t going to fall for his schemes any longer. Jungkook nodded, leaning back to rest on his elbows. When he failed to speak any further YN’s eyes narrowed, “Declare your wager.”

“I think I’ll save mine for later. Makes things more interesting don’t you agree?” Jungkook looked all too pleased with himself, the prince thought everything was under his control. But, just as YN often underestimated him, it seems he had now underestimated her. “So, what’s your big plan to prove your point?”

“Sleep with me.”

#yandere bts #yandere jeon jungkook x reader #yandere jeon jungkook #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bangtanarmynet #ykn #prince of nothing iii #pon #pon iii #girlmeetsliv3

268 notes · View notes

ktheist · 4 years

Text

saving grace | 5

muses. duke!yoongi x lady!reader

universe. arranged marriage / minor traces of magic in history

concept. driven into a corner with the new king, seokjin, offering to marry you off to a prince in a foreign land and a persistent mother who would seize the chance of a lucrative marriage for her daughter, you’re forced with the only other option to secure your freedom ‒ enter into a beneficial agreement with the man who reaped the seeds of war, the duke of cralon, yoongi min.

words. 6.7k

warnings. mentions of war, it’s cliche and cheesy all in one package

index. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / finale

after your return from the min mansion, your mother, ever the loving parent, greets you at the door. her bright smile can be seen from miles away as she stands with her hands planted on her hips like someone who’s looking at her life’s worth investment.

“well?” she urges with an unfaltering smile.

“well?” you blink once, head lulling to the side as you stare at her for an explanation.

“don’t pretend to be ignorant,” she clicks her tongue but the contorted expression on her face is short lived as the smile returns, its force almost compelling you to take a step backwards, “did you two-”

“oh, ___, you’re back. i heard that you stayed the night at the duke’s.” your father, having emerged out of his office on the second floor calls for you and for some reason causes the woman in front of you to freeze as though haunted by guilt.

oh.

with a disarming smile, you wave at your father before recounting the reason you couldn’t go back right away after the party, “oh yes, it’s because mo-”

“i’m sure our daughter’s hungry, i’ll have the chef prepare something right away and in the mean time, we’ll be having tea in my parlor,” with that, the woman who has her hand clasped over her mouth whisks you away and into a narrow corridor right under where your father was standing.

huffing, she fixes you a displeased frown, “gosh, i only wanted to help my beloved daughter secure a good future!”

“mother!” hands planted on your hips, you fix your mother an incredulous look, “by getting rid of any other means for me to leave the mention in hopes i’d seduce the duke to sleep with me and get him to marry me quickly in fear for my being pregnant with an out-of-wedlock child?” your shoulder line are stiff as you watch your mother not even batting an eye at the issues arising within that narration and instead grins in approval at what seems to be a mutual understanding between a mother and a daughter.

“i knew you were smart!”

not wishing to burst her bubble of joy, you excuse yourself to your room, saying the fatigue of hosting a garden party hasn’t entirely left you just yet. fortunately, she the matter of whether you’ve spent the night in yoongi’s room has dissipated in the air as she wishes you a good rest before murmuring something about writing a letter to marchioness jung to invite her to tea or rather, to boast about the daughter that’s marrying the duke who’s several ranks higher than a count’s.

you wonder how she would react once your matchmaking succeeds and krystal ends up becoming a candidate as seokjin’s queen but you decide that your mother’s wounded pride would be a matter of a future that you need not yet concern yourself with.

“leslie, prepare to go to vivian’s.” you question as the maid pulls down on the zip of your dress and allow you to step out of it until you’re staring at the woman in a white underdress in front of the mirror.

“but my lady, that boutique is...” the woman trails off, eyes slanted to the ground in search for the proper words to describe the handiwork.

you’re not entirely sure why she’s against it either but if there’s anything leslie’s good at, it’s being meticulous in her tasks which includes making sure you don only the best clothes, “don’t worry, i won’t be buying the engagement dress there. i just wish to confirm something.”

with that, her eyes lights up and for some reason, the same way your mother does when she offhandedly commends your ability to think just now, “right away, my lady!” the beam doesn’t go away nor so much as falter throughout the ride.

“we’re here to see mademoiselle vivian for my lady’s engagement party,” leslie approaches the worker that greets you when you came in.

you don’t miss the stare shot your way as you study the dresses wrapped around the mannequins until his jaw drops, possibly from the realization of who you are, “r-right this way, lady ___.”

the room you’re brought in is furnished with leather couches and extravagant patterns on its walls and curtains that make you wonder if there is such a thing as illegally pairing colors together.

only the higher ranking aristocrats, namely those from count families and above, would be able to afford clothes made by mademoiselle vivian, a foreign woman from a country across the seas who moved to cearis in search for a lover she’d met and fell deeply in love with but up until now, she still hasn’t found said lover.

or so the story goes.

perhaps it was a selling point to catch the eyes of helpless romantics - rich ones at that. but either way, she’s proved her talent through her intricate designs that time and time again sets off a new trend when a fairly influential noblewoman goes to a gathering in the dress she makes.

it’s no secret that krystal is a loyal customer to vivian’s. but then again, it has more to do about her looks than the dresses she wear. not that it matters to vivian because she’ll be dropping names of noblewomen who ordered dresses from her to gain trust from new customers.

but you’re not here for that.

“are the designs not to your liking, lady ___?” the woman’s bespectacled eyes bore into you after you let out a troubled sigh, eyebrows pulling together as though in deep dilemma.

“no, no, they’re all beautiful,” you let your words hang in the air for suspense before setting down the catalog and turning your whole body towards the woman, “it’s just... i want something that makes a statement, you see.”

“a statement...” she echoes.

“something like...” you murmur to yourself while she echoes your very words a second later.

“...a dress that tells other ladies that they can’t compare without being loud!” you clap your hands together, pleased that you’ve found the words you’ve been searching for.

it takes a moment of the woman burning a hole into the catalog of her designs while you take a sip of the lavender tea. it’s harder to find such tea and fewer can afford it because of the limited import and the high tax rate imposed seeing as only well-off nobles would usually have them at homes.

“i see it now,” she seems to have returned from a walk down the rabbit hole of laces and ribbons, “i don’t usually recommend this since the ladies that come to my shop need a little bit of help standing out - and my dresses do just that but! i think simpler designs would fit you and enhance your beauty like lady jung.”

you mentally cheer at the mention of the name, adding in a blink of surprise, “do you mean... krystal?”

“oh yes, she has the beauty of a crescent moon. a mysterious allure that attracts men and women alike...” vivian drones on with glazed eyes as though she’s descended over to another realm where the walls are tower high and plastered with krystal’s portraits posing in different dresses and her cat-like eyes seem to move wherever one goes.

“...but it’s a shame that her engagement with duke gillmore’s son’s been cancelled!” she ends with a dejected sigh as her shoulder line falls.

“the engagement’s been cancelled?” the fruit of your visit is turning ripe by the second as you clasp a hand over your ‘o’ shaped mouth.

almost as though realizing her slip up, vivian’s own hand shoots up to her mouth but for a different reason than yours, “oh, i shouldn’t be telling you this that since it’s not officially announced yet,” she meets your gaze with a hint of sparkle in them, whatever remorse she felt for revealing what isn’t due, has dissipated into the air, “bit to think the dress i made specifically for her engagement party would not be seeing the light of the day! it pains me so!”

the gillmores are the fourth and last of the ducal houses with the mins being the first and strong supporter of the royal family for hundreds of years. understandably, only two of the houses bear marriageable heirs to the title but with yoongi taking on the name grim reaper, naturally marquis jung would never allow krystal to marry him which leaves duke gillmore’s son as the only available candidate.

that was... until the crown prince who was engaged to a foreign princess was heartlessly murdered by his half-blooded brother. judging from how objective driven krystal is, she must have her eyes set on a bigger price than becoming duchess of the gillmore’s dukedom. and coincidentally so, as vivian mindlessly laments, the engagement was said to be cancelled two months ago which is around the same time seokjin must have called her to have her spread the rumor about you and yoongi’s engagement.

“my lady, have you gotten what you came here for?” the woman sitting across from you in the carriage finally breaks the silence after loyally following your lead as you bid vivian a half-hearted farewell because ‘i’ve realized i can’t make decisions like this on my own! please have the catalogs to the min residence. i’ll review them with my fiancee once he gets back.’

“leslie,” you feel a smile bloom across your face, “we’ve got ourselves a queen.”

for the rest of the week, you find yourself swarmed with letters and invitations to more social gatherings. back then, when you were just a marquis’ daughter and not a duke min’s fiance, invitations have not been scarce yet they’ve never been this overflowing. white envelops with varying house seals litter the white table in front of the window each day. before you can even finish reading those that accumulated in the inbox yesterday, a new bulk would have gathered by the end of today.

so when you hear the knock on your door, you don’t even bother asking who it was, only a short, “come in.”

in your engrossment in reading a letter sent from irene, you fail to notice the lack of footsteps after the noticeable click of the door swinging open and then shutting until it’s too late.

a black gloved hand props itself on the table while another gently settles on your shoulder, a distinctive scent of mint filling your senses. but the husky voice drumming in your ears is no stranger to you,“you’ve been busy.”

“yoongi!” the letter almost slips out of your hand as you crane your neck to gaze into a familiar pair of crimson eyes. but the surprise is short-lived as you become unnervingly aware of how close your faces are, so much so, you can feel his hot breath on your lips.

judging from how he still has his cloak and the formal knight uniform, he must have rode straight to your mansion after entering the boarders of the dukedom. why he chooses to do so, you don’t wish to indulge in.

“w-welcome back, how was the-” the words die on your throat as the coolness of his gloved thumb grazes your bottom lip.

you barely register the delicate “i missed you, ___,” that’s spoken within the minute space between his lips and yours before he closes the distance.

you’ve known those pink lips were soft from the kisses he leaves on the back of your hand but having them on yours are a separate matter altogether. it feels almost unfair that he’s the one who initiated the kiss but wouldn’t go further than a feather light peck before he pulls away, almost as though he thinks you’d break under the slightest pressure.

the faintest smile graces his features as though content to have felt you, to know that you’re not a dream. but on your part, it’s not enough and it will never be once you’ve had a taste of what sweet sacrilege tastes like.

you don’t have the time to admire the way those usually unbothered eyes widen, taken aback as your arm wraps around his neck, locking him within a birdcage large enough for him to stretch his wings but too small for him to escape.

when you break apart for air, you indistinctly register the burning sensation on your lips until yoongi’s eyes slants over them, finger hooked under your chin as he apologizes, “i might’ve been too rough.”

you’re not quite sure what he means, choosing to ignore such statements because he was every bit gentle - passionate, is a whole different story that you rather not think about as you invite him to sit in the chair across from you but instead, he drags it around and plops next to you. your knee brushes against his from time to time but you rather like the feeling of having a part of him touching you one way or another.

“your mother led me to your room,” he says simply, “i assumed you’d been informed.”

almost as though your mother’s scheming smile is ingrained in your head, you barely bat an eye at yoongi’s words as you sarcastically mutter, “i’m sure it must’ve slipped her mind.”

when leslie comes in with snacks, her lingering stare on your face does not go unnoticed but her free smile allows you to shake off the matter almost instantly.

“the inspection resulted in a graver findings,” yoongi apprises, blood red eyes holding your gaze as his next words sends a spear piercing through your heart, “we found children in the basement of the granary. the count’s been involved in human trafficking - nobody knows yet and the knights won’t say a word but once i report this to seokjin, it’ll be the only thing the capital will talk about for awhile.”

no nobility has ever truly lived an honest and clean life. if one were to dig even just the surface of a noble family’s activities, it isn’t hard to find corruption, bribery and even explanation to murders but to have been involved with human trafficking...

the smiling faces of the orphanage not too far from your mansion, flash at the back of your mind. the children had been in the poorest condition the first time you met them. but over time, they’d gained strength from the supplies you’d brought monthly and would come running to you and seokjin whenever you visited. it’s been awhile since you saw them after seokjin’s coronation and the distribution of supplies had been done by the people from the palace with the help of the servants from your house. the circumstances has significantly improved over the year but the thought of someone going as far as exploiting young children, those who were supposed to be under his care and protection makes your stomach churn.

you should have known. should have looked deeper into the activities of that degenerate count-

“not matter how much resource you have, you couldn’t have seen this coming.” the arms that wrap around your body are warm as they pull you flush against a chest. you don’t even realize you have your hands clenched into fists and trembling for the longest time until your shoulder line sags and all the strength inside your body seems to seep out your pores. if yoongi hadn’t held you, you would have hit the ground. either because of unbridled rage or unadulterated hopelessness.

you’re not sure how long time has passed with him holding you in his arms, but you don’t allow yourself the time to mope around more than you should. when you pull away, yoongi seems to have already expect the words that come out of your mouth, “i’ll make sure he’s stripped of his title and so are the people around him who stayed quiet.”

“i don’t doubt your capability,” his thumb rubs circles on the back of your hand, “but that would mean punishing every single commoner in his territory.”

the sound of your gritting teeth drums in your ears as your jaw sores, “they probably didn’t have anyone to turn to when their own lord was behind the atrocities plaguing their village,” a lump forms in your throat, you can only imagine the state the children were found in.

a hand wraps around yours, thumbs smoothing over each of your palms, “you saved them. if you hadn’t thought to suggest the trade, we wouldn’t have a solid reason to inspect the park family’s territory.”

“it was all his doing- he burst out first,” you swallow thickly, “i just reaped the seed he planted.”

a sigh drums in your ears, forcing you to look up and meet the duke’s molten gaze as his shoulder line falls. almost as though he’s surrendering to a fight he knows won’t be in his favor, “no words i say can possibly lift the heavy burden off your chest.”

you don’t deny it.

“would you like to come with me to the palace? i’ll be heading there in three day’s time to report our findings to the king,” his eyes doesn’t seem to search through the windows of your soul, perhaps because he’s learned that he’ll reach a dead end - a wall of thorns. the only way he’ll ever figure you out is if you let him through.

but he at least knows your answer if he’s leaning back against the chair, almost as though he’s turning his back on the wall and chose to tread back to the direction he came from, “i’ll pick you up some time at noon.”

yoongi is reluctant to leave the mansion - or rather, you. the look in his eyes when he looks back at you before mounting his horse, reminds you of the puppy you had when you were a child. she would always rub her head on your leg whenever she saw you dolled up to leave for a party your mother was taking you to. as though begging you not to leave. but she’d always been the first to ligh up when she saw you alight the family carriage when you returned.

you find yourself stepping past the doors of the mansion where you’d intend to wave him off and coming to a stop a few feet away from the horse, “yoongi, can i visit you tomorrow?”

the faint smile breathes fire into your soul as those blood red eyes bore into you like a molten lava, “i was hoping you would. every single day until we get married, in fact.”

it is only after you watch the sleek black stallion disappear through the gates and into the streets, do you notice the maids who have gathered at the doors since the beginning. but their huddled forms as they swoon is the least of your concern.

“so something finally happened.” your mother gathers, nodding in approval as you walk past her with full intention to minimize the interaction - you’ve still not forgiven her for failing to alert you of yoongi’s arrival but even if you quiz her about it, she wouldn’t be able to see the wrong in her actions even if it’d slapped her in the face-

“was that your first kiss as a couple?”

whirling around on your heels, you feel the heat creep up your cheeks almost instantly, “mother! wh-what are you talking about? a-and in front of the maids at that!”

it seems that’s all the answer she needs as she laughs to herself, “dear daughter, i’ve been alive longer than you- you think i would believe you if you said that cut on your lips was from you walking into something?”

“what cut-” the memory of yoongi’s unsettling closeness floods your mind before his peculiar apology echoes in your ears, ‘i might’ve been too rough.’

five minutes later, after you all but sprinted to your room and made a beeline towards the mirror that stands a head taller than you beside your bed, does a bloodcurdling scream fill the recesses of the mansion.

“luckily, it’s just a minor cut, my lady,” leslie assures, her ever smiling features doing better to calm your rapidly beating heart and increasing bashfulness than your mother ever could.

you silently weep at the minute red line on your bottom lip. she’s right. it’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of cut and barely stings as you lather a thin sheen of healing ointment the woman brought after you requested it.

“this is humiliating,” you announce, holding a half-hearted vendetta towards the man whose eyes occasionally glaze over your lips during his visit but choose not to say anything else besides a cryptic indication of his lack of self-restraint.

it takes a whole evening of refusing to have dinner at the dining room and a pity party for yourself with flower petals for the muscles in your body to finally relax.

“what of the report i asked you to gather?” you quiz, hearing the pitter patter of someone’s footsteps going around the bathroom.

“most of them come up with similar information - nothing my lady does not know,” leslie’s fluttery voice reverberates against the walls.

“as expected, i’ll have to ask consult seokjin,” the sound of your teeth gritting drums in your ears, “the thought of him getting so smug just because i had to go to him makes me nauseous.”

with the issue human trafficking coming to light, it seems you can’t go around investigating about the nobles as you please, nor can any of your maids be seen asking around about it. discussing the matter with seokjin and gathering the intel you both have to unravel the nobles’ hidden trails would be a more reasonable course of action since they’ll be on high alert of yoongi since he was the one who brought the crime to light. from now on, even your movements might be closely watched.

yoongi bursts into your room the next day in a similar manner - unannounced - with a sort of expression you can’t pinpoint.

“don’t tell me my mother-” at first, you’re just about ready to storm to your mother’s room like a child throwing a tantrum until yoongi refutes, “i let myself in, the countess wasn’t around and the butler was too powerless to stop me.”

it takes you a moment to register what you heard, an image of the old family butler flashing at the back of your head. perhaps, it’s because it’s been awhile since you’ve been on the receiving end of yoongi’s frightening glare that you forget just how terrifying it is.

you’re suddenly pulled out of your thoughts when a hand tilts your chin upwards, leaving you with no other choice but to study the yoongi’s handsome face as he inspects the cut.

“i’m sorry,” the ghost of his touch burns your skin as takes a seat in the chair next to you, “i should have been more gentle.”

silence stretches on for the longest moment as you gather your words and sort out your thoughts but most importantly, you make sure to sound nonchalant about it, “you don’t have to... i liked how you kissed me.”

your mistake is letting your eyes roam up to his at the low hum that escapes him. a smirk curls on his lips as he gazes at you with his head propped against his hand, “should we do it again?”

“th-that-!” you hastily reply only to stop dead as the words get stuck in your throat. averting your gaze to the italic writings on the paper, you murmur, “...i’m not opposed to the idea.”

true to your words, you too easily comply when his gloved finger twirls the end of the ribbon around your neck, pulling you to him until your lips meet. a familiar sense of butterfly bursts in your stomach as you savor the taste of something sweet like chamomile tea on his lips.

for the rest of the day, you spend it by walking down the same street you did when he whisked you away from a dreadful tea party held by your mother right after the rumor of your engagement was confirmed by you dancing together at the ball. except now, you’re wearing a black hat with a veil covering your almost healed lips.

the day you’re to meet seokjin, the carriage with the min crest rolls into your residence some time a little past noon. not matter how many times he’s shown his unfaltering interest towards you, you can’t help but be surprised. today, he’s donned in his black and golden yellow knight uniform, signaling the formal business he has with his the monarch of the kingdom.

he presses his lips to your gloved knuckles, murmuring a soft, “how have you been?” as if reserved only for you and him.

“better,” you say, holding in a chuckle when his blood rushes to his cheeks and paints them red at your next words, “now that you’re here.”

you don’t miss the way he peeks at something over your shoulder, possibly where your parents stand at the doorway you just passed through. the chuckle you’ve become familiar of and rings like chimes hits the air, “___, why don’t we quickly get into the carriage and away from the count and countess’ eyes?”

“careful, duke,” a grin spreads across your face, hidden underneath the fan you hold just below your cheekbones, “if one were to overhear, we’ll have a lot of explaining to do.”

and yet you don’t delay stepping into the carriage and plopping down next to the window where you can still see your father’s gentle smile that contrasts greatly with your mother’s deep frown.

“no! you absolutely will not go!” she hadn’t meant the palace - or perhaps, she did mean the palace since seokjin is the one who’ll ultimately decide whether you have permission to travel to-

“yoongi,” your fingers curl around the hand on your cheek, breath coming out heaved and eyes barely focusing as you pull away from the aforementioned man.

he doesn’t seem like he’s interested in a conversation but he’s not chasing after your lips either, almost as though his conscience is telling him to be the gentleman he’s raised to be and listen but the beast in his eyes is restless to continue devouring your lips.

so you go on, “i’m going to ask for seokjin’s permission to travel to the park family’s territory.”

the hand in your grasp remains still so does his entire body. the only indication that he’s affected at all is the way those crimson eyes widen with surprise, “what?”

almost as though belatedly registering the weight of your words a second later, he falls to the spot next to you, the legs cradling both your sides leaving you and even with these layers of clothes, you begin to feel the cold creep onto you, “sure,” he begins after what seems like a moment of pondering, “it’ll take a day at most to gather the knights but a royal notice takes at least three days to arrive-”

“i don’t need them... knights, royal notices... you might as well announce our arrival with horns,” you pause, studying the man’s gaze as it bores into you whilst you meet him head on. your deepset hesitance and worries still hovers over you like a haunting ghost, but you don’t want to keep any more secrets, “there’s something i need to tell you about my mother’s side of the family.”

your mother was from a nameless baron family. nobody truly knew them until she’d made her debut and started mingling with high society. just like you, she was the only daughter. the lineage was to end with her had it been just another penniless noble family.

“they run an informant group and call themselves the kairos,” the carriage shakes, as though trembling with fear at the mention of that name. you would have thought yoongi had known all along - that seokjin had told him, if not for the briefest twitch of his eye, “they supply information for anyone who’s willing to pay but keep an eye for those asking for information that could threaten the royal family - even though the queen was a noblewoman who married into the royal family, my mother, the leader then had been reporting to her up until...”

up until the bells that hung high in the tower at the entrance of the palace rung somberly that day.

all of a sudden, the sun that seemed to shine brighter than diamonds underneath the sky started shutting everybody out, including her husband and daughter. there were times when the door to her study was wedged open just the slightest bit. your mother who had noticed the creak of the hinges that needed oiling, wiped her tears and held her arms out for you.

the 10-year-old you didn’t understood what she meant when she promised she’d started living for you.

all you knew was, that was the point where she started becoming more present in your life. it took you another few years to learn that your family, greatly influenced by the countess rather than the count, had taken a full on neutral stance on the political matter and the rising rumor about the half-bred prince against the crown prince for the throne.

and a few more, after meeting said half-bred prince, to convince your mother to trust you for the decision you were about to make as the leader of kairos - to support seokjin as the next king no matter what it takes.

“i thought we eliminated scums like jimin as soon as seokjin took the throne but...” the words seem to be lodged in your throat, unable to slip past your lips.

yoongi heaves out a sigh, legs stretching over the space between the seat you’re on and the one across from it as he slumps against the cushioned backrest, silver hair brushing against his brows as crimson eyes stare at the cushioned ceiling, “so it was you? the one who tipped us about the king’s illegitimate son being sent to the battlefield?”

the war yoongi had been in had ceded faster than expected - though his victory was as sure as the ground you walk on. it was because yoongi and his men managed to single out the the warring king’s beloved son who he was forced to send to war because the palace had been a different battlefield that he still couldn’t fight, and held him as a war prisoner until the king surrendered.

“one of the enemy kingdom’s spy managed to infiltrate the palace and knew of our reputation from one of the maids who was sent by them since three years ago - we managed to dig out some information from him that not many outsider knew about before we eliminate him,” you muttered simply, the scream of the faceless spy had drummed in your ears and chilled you to the bones. unlike you who had to turn away in the last minute, seokjin had looked at the man’s eye whilst he thrust his sword into the spy’s gut.

he’d only sat on the throne for a month then but it was far from his first kill.

"when we first found the basement where the kids were held captive,” yoongi rasps somberly, “i was glad you didn’t come with - it wasn’t something i want engraved into your head.”

“i understand your wish to protect me from the viciousness of the world,” you slip your hand underneath the gap between his palm and knee, making him crane his neck to look at you, “i would’ve done the same thing even if you’d already seen them all at war but that protection we wish to cast upon each other only serves to paint a faux image of daisies and rainbows - an unrealistic euphoria.”

“your want to change things with your own hands will never cease, it seems,” he comments, crimson eyes clouded with a sort of reluctance yet he presses a kiss to your forehead, “we’re different in that aspect - you and i.”

“how so?” perhaps it’s the obvious question you’re asking the grim reaper that makes him laugh and flick your forehead right after he kissed it, perhaps it’s the childlike wonder but he explains it anyway, “you grasp fate at its neck and threaten to throw the entire world into chaos if it doesn’t let you decide your own path, and i...” callous thumb caresses your gloved knuckles, “...i follow mine with contempt and despise the goddess for the cursed blood that runs through my vein.”

“if it weren’t for that blood, i wouldn’t have considered striking a deal with you and end up marrying you,” your hand slips out of yoongi’s grasp only for it to wrap around his hand with your free one, “the blood that grants the power for its master to swing his sword and protect his kingdom could never be a curse.”

“that’s not what the rest of the world thinks,” he refutes, a dry laugh escaping his lips.

“does what the rest of the rest of the world think matter more than of those who actually know you?” you’re not sure of his answer. or if what you’re asking is even appropriate. the organ beating in your chest writhes with agonizing anticipation as the man’s crimson eyes bore into you like a liquid fire.

but if there’s anything you’re more sure of, it’s the fact that the servants at the min mansion has never shown a shred of fear while you worked with them to prepare for the garden party. the same couldn’t be said for the other noble families who were infamous for their ill treatment towards those who serve them.

grim reaper is but a name that does yoongi no absolute justice. he’s possibly the most dignified noble you’ve ever met.

“no - not anymore,” he murmurs, the faintest hint of smile curling on his lips as crimson eyes melt like ice come autumn.

he gathers you in his arms and you gladly let yours drape over his stomach, cheek pressing flush against his chest. you stay like that, in complete silence as the carriage shakes with each pebble and hole in the road, for the rest of the ride until it rolls to a stop in front of the palace walls.

“child trafficking is a serious crime,” seokjin speaks after a long, strenuous pause once yoongi finished reporting his findings within the park territory, “i bet park isn’t showing any sign of remorse, did he?”

a foreboding cloud hangs over the room as the man hunches over the oak table, elbows propped on its surface and clasped hands hiding half of his face. though he hides his expression well, you can see the way his shoulder line tremble with rage until he looks up at the silver haired man.

“actually,” yoongi’s lips press into a flat line as he seem to stare off into nothingness for the briefest moment before frowning, “he all willingly admitted that he’d committed the crime by himself.”

“what about his lackeys?” seokjin quizzes, fully aware that no lord does the dirty work.

“the dungeon was empty of save for the children - most likely they abandoned their lord for their own lives when they heard we were coming,” the head knight deduces.

a pause hovers over the as silence blankets the room.

“it’s suspicious no matter how you look at it.” your voice cuts through the air like knife.

“no man admits to his dirty crime just like that,” seokjin agrees and judging from yoongi’s knitted brows, he seems to know something you don’t.

“we didn’t believe it was that easy either but there was no proof of any other involvement besides the count,” he confesses - they must have raided nearby smaller granaries and questioned the people who you can easily guess, were tight-lipped.

“your majesty,” you take a step forward before dipping into a bow, an arm slanted over your chest as your hand clasps over the spot where your heart it, “i swear upon the honor of the leader of kairos, i will drag every last person involved in this to hell - please allow give me your permission to go to the park territory to investigate this matter further.”

this time, it doesn’t take long for seokjin to respond, “i was wondering why you didn’t storm over the moment you heard about the duke’s findings,” he leans back against his seat, eyes glazing with a ghost of the past, “love changes people, huh?”

“i-i’m not sure where you’re-” before you manage to barely calmly deflect seokjin’s ludicrous assertion, another voice speaks over you, forcing you to swallow the remaining of your words.

“your majesty, i ask your permission to escort lady ___ in her journey,” yoongi mimics your position in your periphery.

it takes a moment for his words to register and another for you to debate on the pros and cons of having a knight, bound to uphold the law, join you in a not so equitable quest for a justified cause.

yet you lower your head, “his grace will be my only other companion, your majesty. please allow it.”

but the answer you thought to receive isn’t one that he gives, “what about miss leslie? you always go with her.”

standing straight, you study seokjin’s deep frown before coming to a conclusion that you’ll probably never understand the man’s way of thinking even if you tried.

“i believe his grace will do a better job at guiding me since he’s been there before.” is all you say.

“this is unacceptable!” the sound of skin smacking a hard surface echoes against the wall, you have to resist to check if his hand is red from slamming it onto the table that hard, but he persists like without blinking, “an unmarried man and woman travelling together without servants... what would people think?”

“the question is, your majesty, why are you thinking anything would happen besides his grance and i working to unravel the people involved in this syndicate?” your voice takes on a dangerously low tone as you meet seokjin’s startled gaze.

“e-either way, i’m the king and i say jungkook will go with you,” he announces.

“y-your majesty? b-b-but-” the man in question’s head snaps in the king’s direction faster than you can blink. almost as though seeing a ghost, jungkook’s complexion pales instantly at the order.

“you’re sending the prime minister to do undercover work. outside of the capital, at that.” you point out in a matter of factly. as the silence stretches on, the more ridiculous the scenario seems to be but seokjin isn’t seokjin if he doesn’t try to refute you.

“he hasn’t taken the governmental examination yet,” he holds his chin high like that of a king.

“he’s been filling in for the prime minister anyway,” you challenge, refusing to back down as you hold the king’s equally defiant stare, “and it isn’t so kingly of you to stop your most loyal subjects from serving the kingdom - his grace and i going as leader of kairos and head knight to carry out your bidding, your majesty.”

it’s the jab at his position that makes his eye twitch. after having spent over five years by the other’s side, you know each other’s strengths enough to trust the other with your lives. but the downside is, you also know the other’s weakness like the back of your hand.

“ah, that’s true,” when his tone turns sweet and his shoulder line relaxes, yours stiffen as you narrow your eyes at the man’s sudden shift of personality - and true enough, you don’t like how he decides to take a jab at your- “since members of kairos have been decreasing and as a result, the guild barely have any influence outside of the capital, i suppose you would benefit from having yoongi come with you.”

he knows full well you hate relying on others because of your chest full of pride. yet you force on a smile that points in all the wrong anger, head lowering as you mechanically mutter, “thank you for your consideration, your majesty.”

note. and that is all for this chapter! (apparently we’re not having just 4 chapters + finale).

taglist. @fanfuckingfic @ayujmi @deathkat657

#bts smut #yoongi smut #bts x reader #yoongi fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenarios #bts scenarios #bts imagines #yoongi imagines #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts x you #bts x yn #yoongi x yn

171 notes · View notes

lady-charinette · 3 years

Text

His Sleeping Beauty - Adrichat

A/N: My first ever Adrichat fic, the time has come! The wonderful Adrichat discord server made this come to life, promise I'll try to write them better next time ^_^ Find it on AO3 too!

Tags: Fluff, Romance, Self-cest, self-shipping

Rating: K

_______________________________

Adrien's school bag fell next to the couch on the floor, his feet dragging as every step felt more difficult than the last.

Photo sessions, modeling poses, school, extracurricular activities, Lila at photo shoots.

Adrien Agreste has had a long day.

Just before he was about to face plant right into the comforting softness of his bed, he felt something scratch at his closed windows.

His body jolted, not from alarm, but from the sudden rush of energy that coursed through it.

It was him.

When Adrien turned and rushed to his window to open it, a black clad figure was perched precariously against it.

Chat Noir was sporting an equally excited smile at seeing Adrien, as soon as the boy opened the window he stealthily slid in through the gap and hugged the other boy tightly to himself. "I missed you so much today!"

Adrien relaxed in Chat Noir's hold, the deep sigh leaving his body and the warmth the superhero exuded from his body made Adrien all the sleeper.

"Rough day?" His hero pulled back to look at the model's tired face, still managing to beam up at him in happiness no matter how heavy his eyes felt. Chat Noir kissed his forehead. "Time for you to go to bed, my prince."

With a motion so smooth Adrien felt like he was floating on water, Chat Noir scooped him up in his arms and carried him to his bed, pushing back the covers and gently settling Adrien on it.

Grabbing the edges of the bedsheets, Chat Noir was about to tuck his boyfriend in until Adrien grabbed his hand and murmured tiredly, "Stay..." the big green eyes all too similar to his own stared up at him.

Oh no, the puppy dog look.

Fighting back the urge to shower his boyfriend in hugs, Chat Noir leapt over his body and settled behind him on the bed.

Adrien immediately turned to face him, grunting when his hand accidentally hit Chat's chest. "Sorry-" he bemoaned, inching closer to cuddle into his chest apologetically.

Chat Noir snorted in amusement, gathering Adrien in his arms and nuzzling into his messy hair, inhaling the scent he only ever associated with Adrien.

It reminded him of the sun, of the clean air. Of home.

"You have to be tired too." Adrien poked one eye open to stare at his beloved, who smiled back at him in adoration, the normally smug, confident grin melting into a soft smile.

"Yeah, LB and I've been fighting akumas all day, not one but two, and they weren't new akumas either, can you believe that? Hawkmoth must be running out of ideas." Adrien sighed deeply at Chat Noir talking about his day, his voice slowly but surely lulling him to sleep.

Chat Noir noticed his boyfriend's losing fight against sleep and settled a clawed hand on his cheek, "Sleep, we can talk tomorrow."

Adrien pouted. "No...wanna..talk." he yawned, and Chat had to bite down the urge to either kiss him or capture the adorable moment with the camera on his baton.

Adrien hugged him like a cat and the purrs emitting from his throat lulled them both to sleep soon.

Before his eyes closed for the night, Chat Noir brushed back a golden lock of Adrien's hair tenderly, smiling like the smitten cat he knew he was. "Sweet dreams, my prince."

He kissed his forehead, settling beneath the covers and curling around Adrien protectively, his tail over the other boy's waist.

Adrien's sudden stir made Chat Noir slowly wake up until he heard what his boyfriend whispered, barely coherent. "Sweet dreams...my knight."

Chat Noir could've died then and there and he would die happy. He couldn't resist one loud purr before he finally succumbed to sleep.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #chat noir #adrien agreste #adrichat #ml fic #ml adrichat #miraculous #self shipping #i have no self control

26 notes · View notes

a-vintage-snake · 5 years

Text

The Mountains Are Calling And I Must Go

Pairing(s): Romantic Dukeceit

Warnings: Self deprecation, mentions of shitty parenting, Remus being Remus Characters: Deceit Sanders, Remus Sanders, Virgil and Roman are there for like a paragraph, Logan is mentioned exactly once.

Summary: There lives a warlock in the mountains, and Remus is determined to hunt him down.

Word Count: 4861

Edit: This is now officially has a sequel! Read it here

Read on AO3 Author’s Note: I love Deceit and Remus, and I wrote this instead of sleeping

There lived a warlock in the mountains. At least that was what Remus was counting on. So far he hadn’t gotten a glance of the fucker yet, but he was nothing but optimistic.

He spurred his horse on for what felt like the thousandth time that hour. Realistically, Remus knew that the mare was exhausted and they both needed sleep soon. But he didn’t want to waste time resting when he could find his goal (hopefully) any minute now! The sun was nearly setting and he wanted to explore as much ground as he could while he could still travel without risking falling down one of the mountain’s cliffs that twisted alongside the path he was following. What would it be like to fall down from such a height? Would he crunch his head on the spikey rocks below? Splatter his brain in a pretty pattern on the rocks- Or maybe he would fall with his feet first, causing his bones to rip through his flesh and- Remus shook his head to chase away the thoughts like an annoying fly. Usually he would delight in thinking all the options through, but not right now. He had a mission goddammit, and it needed all his attention.

He had heard all the stories of this warlock figure. All the vague whispers that people would delight in telling and listening to, despite the fear. The warlock ate children who got lost in the woods; he took young men and women to experiment on them in his hidden castle. Tell him your name, and he would take control over your mind. He hid away in the Desolate Mountains, waiting for the day he could capture the kingdom for himself. He was the kingdom’s greatest threat. The warlock was a monster. At this point of the stories Remus always interrupted saying that he thought “Desolate Mountains” was a really lazy fucking name and honestly where was the name giver’s creativity? This was always followed by the storyteller and listeners screaming at him to get away, we never invite you for a reason, we don’t want you here, how did you even get in here but Remus always prided himself in asking the questions people would rather not ask, hear or experience. That’s how he found himself at one point sitting atop the worktable of the court sorcerer. “So this warlock fellow-” “Your Grace, could you kindly get off my work?” “How would one kill him? Is it like vampires? Stake through the heart? Although really, you can kill anything with a stake through the heart, why do vampires think they’re so special?” Remus sent a wide grin towards the purple-clad figure on the other end of the table, who was glaring at him so hard his pupils were barely visible through the dark marks around his eyes. The court sorcerer looked ready to summon the shadows he controlled so effortlessly, and have them throw Remus out of the nearest window. Ha, jokes on him though! That would be considered treason! “Or is it more like witches? Burn him at the stake? Or drown him? Heh, have you ever wondered what it would feel like to drown?” “Geez, why don’t you go to one of the garden’s fountains and find out?” Virgil bit out through gritted teeth. Remus fell back cackling, rolling in the sorcerer’s precious notes for good measure. “You’re so funny Virge! The funniest little shadow we got around here!” “Look, your Grace,” Virgil bit out the title like it was an insult. “If I knew anything about the warlock in the mountains, I would tell you-” “Oh come ooooooooon!” Remus whined. “You do magic, you gotta know how to end him somehow! Give me something to work with! Chop his head off? Recite some spells? Ooh what’s this??” Virgil quickly snatched the bottle with the bubbling silver liquid away from Remus’ curious hands. “This is an erosion potion.” Virgil grumbled. “One drop and a rock the size of a man will melt away like water.” “How fun! Have you ever used it on people?” “What? No, of course not-!” “Well you should, for science’s sake- Logan would appreciate the experiment!” “You know I highly doubt he would-” “Ooooh, why don’t we ask the scholar himself that? Bet the nerd would love to participate-!” “LOOK,” Virgil took a very deep breath through his nose, and exhaled through his mouth. “No one knows how to defeat the warlock, okay?? If I knew, I would have done it years ago!” “Boooo, you’re no fun.” “Hell, if anyone could kill him,” Virgil continued on, ignoring Remus. “That person would be hailed as a hero! But knights and heroes who go in the mountains disappear without a trace, and we can’t-” Virgil’s sentence was cut off when he was tackled by a green and black blur to the ground. Letting out a litany of curses, he went to push the squirming prince off of him, but he stopped in his tracks when he looked at Remus’ face. The prince’s lips were turned in the most manic grin Virgil had ever seen on him, and his eyes were wide as saucers. “ ‘Hailed like a hero…?’ ” Remus whispered. “Are you sure about that…?” “Uuhm… Yes?” Virgil answered. “AWESOME!!” Remus screamed in his face, before scrambling up and running from the room in a flurry of thrown about papers and slamming doors. Virgil sat up, utterly bewildered at the sudden exit. But eventually he shrugged. At least he had some peace and quiet now… Remus didn’t stop running until he burst into his room, where he changed into his best traveling clothes, put on his warmest cloak and started grabbing his favourite weapons to bring with him, along with his beloved morning star that he grabbed off the wall. After that he ran to the castle’s kitchens, where he under wild protests of the cooks shoved various foods and a water bottle in his bag. Then he proceeded to dash to the stables, where he screamed at the nearest stable boy to prepare his favourite mare for traveling. “Remus?” A voice behind him asked. When Remus whirled around, he was faced with the confused stare of his twin brother. “What the hell are you doing?” “No time to talk bro-bro!” Remus hauled himself up the horse. “I’m off to kill the warlock that lives in the mountains!” “Wait, what?” Roman’s mouth fell open. “Are you nuts? You can’t just-” “Don’t wait up for me!” Remus yelled as he spurred his horse in a gallop, out of the castle’s gate. “BYYYYEE!!”

That was three days ago. Three days where he barely slept, ate while riding and only ever stopped to allow himself and his horse the bare minimum of rest. And now here he was, leading the mare on coiling paths through the treacherous cliffs and the dwindling treeline. And he still hadn’t caught a glimpse of this supposed warlock. Or his stupid hidden castle! Although, Remus considered, if he could easily find it he supposed it was a pretty shit hidden castle. The last light of twilight was almost gone. Grumbling to himself, Remus reluctantly halted and stepped off his horse. After tying her to a nearby tree and giving her some water, Remus searched for firewood and made a small fire. He then proceeded to very grumpily stare into the flames. Tomorrow he would search harder. He would find that son of a bitch, chop his head off and bring it gift wrapped back to his mother and father. And then he would get a statue, and a song written for him, and- And had it been this misty the whole time? Remus quickly sat up, his hand flying to his morning star. Tendrils of mist had surrounded him, and moved in closer with a fluidity and grace that reminded Remus of how Virgil would move shadows in his hand. Excitedly Remus got up his feet, hands bringing up his weapon and a frenzied giggle leaving his mouth. Finally finally finally-!! “Show yourself!!” He yelled. “You’re a long way from home, sir knight.” A dark, crooning voice answered him. Remus twisted around. In the light of the fire, Remus could make out the tall, slender figure of a man standing between two trees. The mist seemed to curl itself around the man, like a cat greeting it’s master. The man was dressed in all black, and a large hood was pulled over his head, shielding his face away from Remus’ eyes. Remus squinted at the hooded figure. “Are you the warlock that lives in these mountains?” He asked. No use accidentally shanking the wrong guy. The man made a dismissive hand wave. “I suppose I am. But pray tell, who are-” Remus didn’t let him finish. With a vicious battle cry he lifted his morning star over his head and charged towards the hooded man. He swung his weapon towards the figure… And only met thin air. He stumbled, but quickly regained his balance to look for his target. Where the fuck did that slippery eel go? “My, aren’t you an impolite one.” Came the cool voice from behind him. Remus whipped around, seeing the warlock study him with a tilted head. Once more Remus charged at him full speed, hoping to strike his morning star right into the man’s side. But yet again, the man disappeared the second Remus tried to hit him. “What exactly are you hoping to gain from this?” The warlock’s voice came from his right. He appeared unbothered by the attacks or the furious glare Remus threw him. Remus once again ran to attack the man, and let out a frustrated screech when the warlock disappeared and reappeared behind him before he could land a blow. “Stop moving!” He hollered. “Let me think. Hmmmm, no.” This continued on for a minute, and Remus’ assaults only grew more frenzied with every failed hit. He grit his teeth so hard he was surprised he didn’t break his molars with the sheer force of it. His grip tightened on his morning star. He was going to beat this guy to a bloody pulp. He was going to chop his stupid head off, and break every part of the rest of his body, grind his bones into dust, eat his fucking organs until nothing was left-! “This is getting tiresome…” The warlock sighed. “Then actually come out and FACE ME, YOU-” “Look into my eyes.” The voice suddenly boomed from his right. Remus’ head turned so quickly his neck gave a painful crick, glee already flooding him because his target was right there all he had to was- And beautiful swirling golden eyes met his gaze. Remus stopped his movements abruptly. His mind was startled in unexpected silence, but he didn’t care or bother to question why. All he wanted to do was to keep staring into those golden eyes. “That’s right,” The smooth voice purred, and oh. That was possibly even better. The soft rumble of the warlock’s voice seemed to fill every nook and cranny of Remus’ head. Every crammed little corner emptied of its contents and instead replenished with gold and honeyed words. “Now darling,” The warlock hummed. “How about you throw all the weapons you have on you into that ravine over there, and then we’ll have a civilized conversation? Wouldn’t you like that?” Remus nodded and turned to stiffly walk towards the edge of the cliff. He immediately missed the golden gaze on him, so he swiftly went to work. First he threw his morning star down in the depths, followed by the sword on his side, then the daggers in his boots, the small axe and the blades on his belt, the kitchen knife he had grabbed last minute for good measure- Behind him the warlock chuckled. “Not sure if I should be scared or impressed.” The warm amusement in the man’s tone curled itself up in Remus’ chest and made him feel all kinds of weird and fuzzy. He wanted to make the other laugh and smile more, just to have that feeling all the time. Disposing his last weaponry down the cliff, Remus turned again towards the other. The warlock had sat himself down on a large boulder, and gave him a small nod. “Very good. Now come here.” The man beckoned with one finger. Remus didn’t need to be told twice. Eagerly he marched up towards the other man, and dropped himself on his knees in front of him. And before he could think about it, Remus buried his face into the other man’s lap, his fingers curling into the warlock’s pants’ leg. The warlock stiffened at the sudden contact, but Remus barely noticed. God, he just wanted to be closer, closer- “Well this is new...” The voice murmured above him. Remus froze. Fuck fuck fuck, he did something weird again, he had screwed up, why did he do that, why was he like this-! All panic was immediately silenced when a hand gently started carding through his hair. Sighing, Remus practically melted into the soft contact. A low keen left his throat at the feeling of sharp nails lightly grazing his head, causing the most pleasant shivers to roll down Remus’ spine. “Let’s try this again, shall we? You may call me Deceit. And what’s your name, bold knight?” Somewhere in his head an alarm bell started ringing, but Remus took that bell and beat it to a flat mash before kicking it right into the sun. “My name’s Remus… Remus Alveraz…” He muttered. “Oh my… Am I in the presence of genuine royalty?” Deceit played with the silver lock in Remus’ hair. “I feel honoured. And to what exactly do I owe this privilege?” He should probably lie to him. In fact, lying was absolutely the best option if he wanted the soft touches to continue. However the second the possibility of lying crossed Remus’ mind his head seemed to clog with a dense fog. Above him the warlock gave a soft tut in disappointment. “No use lying to me dear,” Deceit slightly scolded. “Come now, you can tell me…” He didn’t want to, he absolutely did not want to, but the thick fog made even the smallest white lie seem like a herculean task. “I came here to kill you...” Remus relented quietly. Immediately the fog lifted from his mind. And weirdly enough, the hand didn’t stop caressing his hair. “Funnily enough, I figured that out that much.” The amusement was back, and with it the fuzzy feeling in Remus’ chest. “And why were you sent on such a quest, hmm? Didn’t whoever sent you warn you of the stories? Those who enter the mountains shall never return I do believe it was.” “I wasn’t sent by anyone,” Remus muttered. “I wanted to do this myself.” “Ah, that explains some of it,” Deceit said. “So why exactly did you want to do this then?” Remus opened his mouth, ready to answer with for the glory of the kingdom, so his country would be free of fear, so the people could sleep easily again, so he could be their hero. Before even a syllable could leave his mouth the fog clouded his mind once more, even denser than before. His reasons choked on his tongue as he struggled to speak. “You’re lying, little prince. And not even to me, but to yourself. Which I always considered far worse than lying to the world.” The hand in Remus’ hair tightened and his head was turned sideways, so he could glance up at the man above him. The shining golden eyes were the only things visible under the hood and their beauty entranced Remus once more. “Tell the truth.” Deceit whispered. “I… I wanted…” Remus struggled to answer through the fog. “Tell the truth.” The warlock commanded. The power of the order settled heavily in Remus’ bones. “I just wanted people to see me.” The admission left him in a rush, and the mist in his head finally disappeared. Whatever Deceit had seemed to expect, this wasn’t it. The hand released his hair, and Remus immediately turned his head to hide his face back into the other man’s lap. The truth stung on his tongue. “And why exactly do you think people don’t see you…?” Deceit’s voice was thoughtful. “Aren’t you their beloved prince?” A bitter laugh left Remus before he could stop himself. “No no no no… Roman is the beloved one of the two of us. Perfectly charming perfect prince. People fall over their feet to wave at him, would chop their own kid’s fingers off for a chance to kiss his ass and all that shit, and I’m…” For once in his life Remus actually wanted to stop talking. But whatever spell was compelling him forced the truth out he had been ignoring for years. “I’m the spare. They don’t see me; they just see a failed version of Roman. The unwanted child. The family disappointment. Good for nothing, weird, scary, stupid freak of nature. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid-!” “Enough.” The order came out quiet like a hush, but Remus immediately stopped talking. Calmly he waited for Deceit to throw him off, to sneer and mock him for his not so royal behaviour. Perhaps the warlock would use him for ransom to get the kingdom from his mom and dad. Although, seeing as what Remus just admitted, it would probably be more likely he’ll just kill him and be done with it. He found that the thought didn’t really scare him. Just as he considered if Roman would miss him, Remus startled as he felt the warlock’s hand go back to ever so gently caressing his hair. Carefully he peeked back up to the other man. The golden eyes had lessened in their intensity, and Remus knew it was wishful thinking when he thought he saw sympathy in them. “Who made you believe that about yourself, little prince?” Deceit asked softly. The question surprised him. Remus shrugged. “It’s just the truth… I’ve always been the fuck up. I can’t do anything right. I couldn’t learn properly when I was a kid, my interests are weird, I’m too much…” “Too much of what?” “Everything! Too loud, too distractive, too grotesque, too annoying,” Remus rambled up from his head, repeating the words teachers, nannies, tutors, friends and family had told him over the years. When he just couldn’t sit still during lessons, because why would he when there were thousands more interesting things to do. “You’re a bad example for the others!” When he struggled with understanding the lesson material because he just couldn’t focus on it no matter hard he tried. “You’re just being lazy.” When he rambled on about his favourite gruesome stories and fairy-tales almost without being able to stop because they were so interesting! “I think he’s disturbed.” When he played with the other children and made them cry when he played too rough, spoke too loud, told too many scary stories. “You’re a freak!” When he pulled his twin brother along with his mischief and he ended up the only one being punished. “You’re a bad child.” When his parents praised Roman, only to send disappointed glares towards him. “Why can’t you be more like your brother?” Not good enough, no matter what he did. Not good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough. NEVER GOOD ENOU- “Remus.” The soft voice jump startled Remus out of his spiral. His throat had tightened and his eyes were prickling. Without realizing he had tightened his fingers nearly painfully in the fabric of the warlock’s pants. He quickly loosened them. “ ‘m sorry…” Remus mumbled. Sorry I exist. “No need…” Deceit shushed. “There’s no reason to apologize.” Silence settled between the two men for a while. The warlock sat in quiet consideration, while Remus tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He shut his eyes tightly to keep the prickling of tears back. Fuck, he thought he didn’t care… He thought he had hardened his heart enough that it stopped bothering him years ago, how no one could look at him without disgust or annoyance. Turns out he lied more to himself than he was willing to admit. Remus focused with all his might on the soft stroking of his hair that, despite everything, was still happening. He couldn’t quite believe his luck. Most people had shoved him away by now. “Now what I don’t understand yet,” Deceit finally spoke up. “Is why you thought killing me would help you?” Remus gave another half-hearted shrug. “I mean, you’re the country’s biggest enemy…” “Am I? My goodness, I feel flattered.” Deceit said flatly. “Roman always gets praise whenever he slays a monster… And he can’t come after you! Mom and dad made Roman promise them that he would never try to find and defeat you.” That had been when they were both teenagers. “… And they never made you promise not to do that?” Remus didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. His silence said enough. He heard Deceit take a very deep breath. “So you hoped that if you brought back my head, you would get their artificial praise and magically all their neglect would go away?” Deceit’s voice had taken a biting edge. “I guess… I mean, Virgil said that-” “Virgil?” The hand stopped moving, eliciting a small whine from Remus. “As in Virgil Storm?” “Yeah…” Remus was surprised. The warlock knew the court sorcerer? “He told me that the first person to kill you would be hailed as a hero…” “The basssstard…” The warlock hissed out. “I taught him everything he knows, and this is how he repays me? Ungrateful little whelp…” Deceit continued quietly scowling, and Remus was caught between giggling over the warlock calling the scary court sorcerer a whelp and begging him to continue stroking his hair. In the end he kept quiet, despite how difficult that was. Eventually Deceit finished his little rant, and silence fell once more. Remus didn’t mind, since Deceit absent-mindedly started to massage his scalp, which made him want to melt into a little puddle of princely goo. “You’ve been mistreated, little prince…” Deceit said. “Terribly mistreated. The world saw that you were different, and immediately labelled you as defective. But I’ll let you in on a little secret…” Remus stiffened when the warlock leaned down closer to him, and he felt the other man’s breath on his ear. “There is nothing wrong with you.” Deceit whispered. “That they refused to open their minds to the potential you possess, is their loss and their loss alone. You are not broken, you are not useless or anything they tried to make you believe. You are whole, my prince. Complete, just the way you are.” Deceit sat back up, and Remus couldn’t hold back the tears prickling in his eyes anymore. A sob left him, loud and ugly, while his body started to tremble. Deceit rubbed his back, gently shushing him all the while. “It’s alright,” Deceit murmured. “You’re alright… Sleep now, dear.” At the warlock’s words, Remus felt his eyelids and body grow heavy. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but it felt like a thick, warm blanket slowly embraced him. The last thing he heard before he fell into a deep slumber were Deceit’s words; “Sleep now, and you’ll see… The morning will come with a better future.”

Waking up was a slow process. Remus felt like he was slowly floating down from a very warm cloud, and he didn’t quite wanted to be back on the ground just yet. He hadn’t slept this long and peacefully in years. So he stayed on that edge between sleeping and waking for as long as he could. When at last he blinked his eyes open, it took a few minutes of staring up at the dark wooden ceiling before he realized he didn’t recognize it. Wait, where was he…? Abruptly the memories of last night came flooding back. The mist, a soft hand in his hair, his impromptu confessions, and the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Wildly flailing Remus sat up and looked around. He was lying on a cot, and he had been covered with a soft wool blanket that he threw off with his sudden movements. To his right was a tall window, and in the final light of a distant sunset he could just make out the castle, his home on the horizon. Wait, sunset? Just how long had he been asleep? “Ah, so you’ve finally awakened.” Remus head whipped to his left, and he took in the rest of his surroundings. The room he was in had high ceilings, and every wall was covered in shelves filled to the brim with vials, jars and jugs. From the ceiling hung bones, dried herbs and something Remus recognized as massive dragon wings. A bookcase big enough to fit twice in his room was nestled in the far corner, stuffed with so many books that some were stacked in small piles in front of it. And illuminating the whole scene, a large cauldron sat on a simmering fire in the middle of the room, a yellow glow coming from the elixir being brewed in the iron pot. In front of the cauldron stood the warlock, his back to Remus. One of Deceit’s hands stirred the substance, while another grabbed a vial from a table next to him to add it’s contents to the elixir, another hand grabbed a handful of dried herbs to throw in as well, and yet another pair of hands held a book open-! Remus watched in utter fascination, as the warlock used no less than six arms to work tirelessly to make the potion in the cauldron. “You’ve slept for quite some hours,” Deceit said, not stopping or taking his eyes off the cauldron. “I was already beginning to think I used too potent of a spell on you.” Remus’ mouth opened and closed again. Thousands of questions were racing through his mind, ranging from Where the hell are we to What do you want from me and Are you aware you have six arms but what he eventually settled on was; “Why did you bring me here?” Deceit’s actions stilled. Gently, he set down the supplies in his hands and Remus’ eyes widened when the extra four arms seemed to retract back into the warlock until with a shudder they had disappeared. Then Deceit finally turned around. The large hood of his cloak was still hiding his face. Slowly Deceit approached the cot, and Remus, who absolutely was not the type of person to get scared easily, pressed his back into the window behind him while his heart thumped in his throat. There was a vague thought passing through his head that maybe the glass would crack and he would plummet to his death after all, but it was quickly dismissed when the warlock stopped in front of him… And moved to pull back his hood. First Remus noticed dark brown hair, in messy curls. Then he saw how the left half of the warlock’s face was attractively covered in dark green scales, which ran from his forehead over his cheek into his neck and disappeared under his collar. His eyes were not swirling gold this time- Instead Deceit’s right eye was a dark hazel, speckled with golden flecks. And the other… The other was a piercing yellow, with a split serpentine pupil. Those mismatched eyes took him in with a calculated look, and Remus’ heart started thumping louder, but no longer in fear. In fact, it started thumping so loud it felt like his heart wanted to tear bloodily through his ribs and flesh to get out. His stomach started doing all kinds of funny flip-flops as well. Distantly he was aware that his mouth was hanging open, but he couldn’t quite bring it up yet to care. Deceit smiled, revealing fanged teeth, and brought one slender, clawed finger under Remus’ chin to close his gaping mouth. “Careful, you might eat a fly,” Deceit said with a chuckle, and then sat down on the cot across from Remus. Which proved to be a test to his sanity, as Remus’ mind immediately started supplying him with all the creative things he could do to the warlock on that cot. Tracing his lips over the scales, seeing if they’re hot or cold, running his hands through those lovely curls, while fanged teeth bit Remus’ neck- “It’s impolite to stare, you know.” Deceit interrupted his thoughts. Remus shook himself away from the fantasy before it could get too detailed. “As for your question, well... We seem to have… Similar stories and motivations.” Deceit gave him a sly smirk, and if Remus hadn’t been gone yet, he would have fallen for that look hard. “I think we might be able to help each other out, don’t you agree?” Remus nodded so wildly he was surprised he didn’t snap his neck. Anything, he would do absolutely anything, if it meant that those mismatched eyes would remain on him.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #dukeceit #demus #deceit sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #my very first sanders sides fic!

335 notes · View notes

nachtgraves · 4 years

Text

Fic: Lotta’s Boys

Started this when episode 3 or 4 came out and got my shit together to finally finish it. It is... much longer than I thought it would be.... woops.

Read on AO3

Pairing: Jean Otus/Nino Word Count: 8.500 Warnings/Tags: G. Post-canon, sick fic, lotta’s pov, fluff, obvious and oblivious boys. Summary: Lotta loves her brother and his best friend, she just wishes they weren't so oblivious.

Lotta loves Jean, she really does. He’s a good brother, and a hard worker even if he complains about how his transfers never go through. He always brings back presents from the other districts, delicious treats to make up for the time he’s away.

She also loves Nino. He indulges her in exploring bakeries and restaurants and he gave her candy when they first met. He watches out for Jean when Lotta manages to ask him for a favor first.

She loves them both, dearly. If only they weren’t so stupidly oblivious.

Lotta’s making breakfast when Jean stumbles out of his room and into a chair at the kitchen table. Eggs and sausages sizzle in the pan and the toaster is set to go off in another minute.

“Morning,” she calls to him. “Did you sleep well?”

Jean nods but he looks exhausted. He’s been away again for work, ACCA in a bit of a mess after Furawau’s secession, and only returned late last night. At least he has the day off, and even if he didn’t, one call to Owl would make sure he did.

“What do you want to drink?” Lotta asks, moving easily between the stove, toaster, and fridge. She has a system and when the toaster goes off, she is ready with a knife slathered with butter, jam standing by on the side. “I can start a pot of coffee, or we still have some of the tea you got from your last trip.”

“Coffee,” Jean mumbles. He rubs his face and stands up, bracing himself on the kitchen table. “I’ll make it, you want some?”

“Sure, thank you!”

Before long, breakfast is ready and plated. Lotta sips at her coffee and watches Jean eat as he skims the paper. His posture is lax and his eyes are glossy and droopier than usual and she wasn’t blind to the way he stumbled around the kitchen nor deaf to his attempts at covert sniffling.

“Jean, how long have you been sick?” Lotta questions. She sees the moment Jean tries to deny the accusation, but he’s learned in the past few years and only sighs.

“Not long. I think it’s just exhaustion and I should be fine after some rest,” he concedes. “I’ll be good to go back to work tomorrow.”

Lotta isn’t having it. “Well that’s tomorrow. Today, and right after you finish eating, you’re going right back to bed.”

Jean smiles and shakes his head in amusement. “Yes, ma’am.”

He doesn’t manage to finish his plate, barely able to do more than nibble on the toast and sip at his coffee. The eggs and sausages are barely touched. Lotta ushers him back to bed when he can’t make himself eat much more.

“I’ll make some porridge and see if we have any cold meds.” She brushes his hair from his face and worries her bottom lip. “You’re a little warm.”

Taking her hand in his, Jean links their fingers. “I’ll be fine, Lotta. I just need rest. There’s no use in you worrying yourself sick.”

Lotta pouts but she sighs and agrees. “Let me know if you need anything. I’m going to find medicine and make that porridge.”

Or so was the plan, but Lotta discovers that they’re out of any sort of cold medication. Lotta could pop out to grab what she needs but she doesn’t want to leave Jean home alone. He doesn’t fall sick often, but when he does, he falls hard.

“Ah, what to do…”

Her thoughts and contemplation are interrupted, however, by the buzz of a phone, her phone, sitting on the kitchen counter. She picks it up and sees that Nino’s sent her a bunch of photos. They’re all of a cat with gold fur. It’s asleep in the first picture but Nino must have woken it up since he catches the moment it blinks open blue eyes and yawns. Then it looks bored and unimpressed, but in the next picture something out of frame catches its attention. Its head is tilted and its tail is up and looks loose, not tight and puffed out in fear. Its blue eyes are wide and it stands facing Nino head on. In the next photo it’s munching on a small piece of bread, eyes shut in pleasure and Nino’s fingers rubbing its tiny head.

If Jean were a cat is the only accompanying text. It makes Lotta laugh because it’s far too accurate, and then she realizes her current dilemma is easily solved, and she can move on the solution to another one as well.

She calls Nino and he picks up almost immediately.

“Nino! Are you free right now? I need a favor.”

The doorbell rings and Lotta makes sure the chicken and ginger porridge won’t burn while she gets the door. Nino has perfect timing.

“Nino, you’re a lifesaver!” Lotta grins up at the photographer.

“Hi, I got some other things as well,” he says, holding up bags from the pharmacy. “Some energy drinks, pudding, jello. And some fever patches, because you know he runs high whenever he’s sick. They’re also good for headaches. And…what? Why are you looking at me like that.”

Lotta shakes her head, “Nothing! Nothing. You’re a really good friend, Nino.”

“Ah, thank you?” he replies.

“Thank you,” Lotta says. “Oh! Almost forgot about the porridge. I’ll take these, could you go check on Jean for me?” She doesn’t wait for a reply, taking the bags out of Nino’s hand and hurrying back to the kitchen. She quickly checks the porridge before putting away Nino’s shopping, noting he got all of Jean’s favorites, smiling when she hears Nino knock gently on Jean’s door and low murmurs follow.

Lotta’s just finished putting everything away and stirring the porridge when Nino comes out of Jean’s room. “Smells good.”

“I made extra if you want to eat with Jean,” Lotta says. She dips a spoon into the porridge and tastes it before frowning and adding a bit more salt. “It’ll be done in another five minutes. How’s he doing?”

“He’s definitely got a fever and needs a box or two of tissues within reach. If he tries to get out of bed, I’d suggest tying him down, duct taping if you don’t have any rope. There’s not a chance he’s going to be well enough to work tomorrow.”

“I know. The only person Jean is fooling is himself. I was going to call Owl later.”

“Good thinking,” Nino laughs. “You and Owl are the only people he’ll listen to.”

“He listens to you,” Lotta says casually, keeping her smile down when Nino scratches his cheek and looks away.

Nino clears his throat. “That’s debatable. You’re his beloved sister, Owl is like his second father, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”

“And you are one of the closest people in his life,” Lotta says. “And if you say anything less, you don’t get any porridge. Speaking of, get me two bowls. Oh, and there should be a tray in that cupboard over there.”

Nino does as bid and Lotta ladles porridge into the bowls while Nino fills up a glass of water and grabs the medicine he bought. Lotta puts everything on the tray and hands it off to Nino. “I already ate and have a couple things to do. Take this in and keep Jean company? There’s nothing worse than being sick and having to eat alone.” For good measure, she looks up at Nino with with a slight pouty frown.

Nino takes the tray from her. “As you wish, your highness.”

Lotta lightly smacks Nino’s arm. “Hush. Go feed your prince.” When Nino’s cheeks pink, Lotta has to turn her back on him in a pretense of being busy cleaning up to not give anything away.

She hears him walk away and the low murmurs pick up as he elbows Jean’s door open to walk inside. Lotta can’t help herself, far too curious and very invested. She sneaks over to the door and peeks through the crack. Nino’s got his back to her, bent over Jean’s nightstand to set the tray down. Lotta catches him smack Jean’s hands away with a spoon.

“Food first. And then you get two pills.”

“I’m not hungry,” Jean sulks, and if he’s being so openly pouty he’s definitely running a fever. “I want drugs.”

Nino laughs and Lotta presses her hand to her mouth to keep herself from being noticed. Jean’s turned towards Nino, all of his attention on the blue haired man.

“Just have a few bites. For Lotta, at least.” Nino puts one of the bowls in Jean’s hands and settles on the edge of the bed with the other bowl. “You’re not getting any drugs until at least a quarter of that is in your stomach.”

Jean huffs but he spoons a bite. “Don’t you have work today?”

“Being my own boss means I can take the day off whenever I want,” Nino replies. “Lotta called me and I know how you always overdo it when you’re sick. Lotta will guilt you into resting, but I have no qualms about manhandling you into bed.”

Jean’s flush becomes more pronounced and Lotta sees the moment Nino’s words registered to his own ears. His ears go pink and he freezes, back ramrod straight and tense. Even Lotta feels her cheeks grow warm at the easily misunderstood declaration.

“To force you to rest,” Nino hurriedly tacks on, clearing his throat. “You’ve got at least another day or two of bed rest with the state you’re in.” He swallows down a few bites of porridge while Jean just stirs his. “Your confinement will only be longer if you don’t eat something, Jean. No food, no drugs.”

Jean rolls his eyes. “I forgot how mean you are when I’m sick. Aren’t you supposed to be nicer?”

Lotta wishes she could see Nino’s face when he says, “What? Want me to feed you or something?”

Jean’s however, she sees clearly. Even his fever can’t explain how red he gets in the face, up to his ears, and his jaw drops, eyes wide. But he picks up his jaw by shoving porridge into his mouth and chewing, choking out a, “No.”

Lotta has to back away from the door so her barely restrained laughter doesn’t out her eavesdropping.

Lotta’s trying to work on an assignment for one of her classes on the couch when Nino comes out of Jean’s room.

“Nino!” She hops up, maybe a bit too eagerly. She looks for any sign of, she doesn’t even know what. Just a sign of something. She almost wishes she had continued to eavesdrop at the door.

“Lotta,” Nino returns, brows furrowing in wary confusion.

It’s incredibly hard to control her expression. She nods towards Jean’s bedroom, trying to change the subject. “Did he eat all the porridge?”

Nino gives her a suspicious look but doesn’t press. “Yeah. Once he started, he managed to get it all down. I gave him the pills and he was asleep by the time I finished stacking the bowls. ”

At the mention of bowls, Lotta goes to reach for them. “I can take those.”

Nino lifts the tray out of her reach and walks on to the kitchen. “It’s fine, I got it. What were you working on?”

“Readings for one of my classes.” Though she had kept looking up at Jean’s door and didn’t get much done. She follows Nino to the sink and despite his insistence grabs a bowl he finishes washing and dries it before putting it away.

“You have class tomorrow?”

“Yeah. My first class is at 11 and I’m usually gone through lunch until just before Jean gets home from work. I’ll just make something easy for Jean to grab and eat while I’m gone.”

Nino lingers with the spoons under the faucet. “I can come over again, if you want,” he offers. “I can cook and keep an eye on him, make sure he eats and doesn’t try and go to work while you focus on school.”

“But you’ve got work, don’t you?”

“I have two memory cards of photos to go through and then editing,” Nino says, dryly. “And you guys have a better coffee machine than I do.”

Lotta laughs. “If you don’t mind, that’d be great, Nino.” She wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest as she squeezes him tight. “Thank you. I don’t know what Jean I would do without you.”

Nino hugs her back and ruffles her hair. “Don’t know what I’d do without you two, either.”

The next morning, after showering and getting dressed, Lotta checks in on Jean. She finds him out of bed going through his closet. Over his arm is a familiar black and red jacket. He’s reaching for one of his ties when Lotta clears her throat. He freezes and turns to meet her frown.

“I was going to shower?” he says and sniffles.

Lotta stares him down with her hands fisted at her hips until he sheepishly moves away from the ties and puts his jacket back on its hanger.

“I’ll call in sick,” Jean concedes. “But I’m still taking a shower.”

“Nino said he’ll be by in an hour,” she says, satisfied. “Do you want to eat in bed or in the kitchen?”

“Kitchen,” Jean answers. “Am I allowed coffee?”

“If you’re good,” Lotta teases and leaves to start a pot.

When Jean comes out of the shower, he’s dressed in lounge pants and an old shirt that swallows his frame. Lotta rewards him with a steaming mug of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal with chopped strawberries and blueberries. His appetite’s improved and he even asks for some toast and jam as Lotta makes some for herself.

“You know, I don’t need a babysitter,” Jean says once Lotta’s settled at the table, spreading jam on her toast.

“Maybe,” Lotta replies. “But it’s nice to have someone take care of you when you’re not feeling well.”

Jean smiles into his coffee. “Yeah. Nino’s been taking care of us for a long time now.”

“Mhmm.” Lotta peeks up at her brother. “When I was a kid, I thought I wanted to marry him.”

Jean startles, so surprised he starts coughing, and Lotta’s glad she waited until he had swallowed his coffee before throwing that at him. Even though it might be a bit of a test, it was true. She’d thought herself in love with her brother’s best friend who charmed her with candy when they first met and helped them through the loss of their parents while dealing with the loss of his own father. And even knowing the truth of how Nino came into their lives, Lotta is grateful for Nino’s presence. He might have been assigned to watch over them, but it was easy to see that his feelings went far beyond an assignment.

Lotta hands Jean a glass of water and Jean takes a few steady swallows and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He clears his throat. “And, uh, do you still?”

“Oh no.” Lotta is quick to shake her head, laughing. “Not at all. I quickly realized I don’t love him like that. I love him like I love you.” She pauses, looks down, and adds casually, “But I do wonder who Nino would ever get married to. I’ve never even seen him in a relationship before.”

With perfect timing, the doorbell rings. Lotta all but bounces to the door to let Nino in and Jean mull over her words.

Nino’s running a hand through his hair, almost as if he were fixing it, when Lotta swings the door open. In place of his usual camera bag is a laptop bag slung over his shoulder, and he’s got a plastic bag from a nearby convenience store in hand.

“Morning. Jean ate all the jello yesterday so I bought a few more,” he says. “They had a different flavor I thought he might like.”

Lotta just beams at him. “I’m sure he will. He’s in the kitchen finishing up breakfast. There’s extra oatmeal and fruit if you’re hungry.”

“I already ate, but thanks,” Nino says, toeing off his shoes before following Lotta to the kitchen to where Jean waves as Nino approaches.

“Morning.” Nino reaches over and puts the back of his hand against Jean’s forehead. Jean closes his eyes and sighs at the touch. “Your hand’s cold.”

“That’s because you’re burning up. Finish this and back into bed,” Nino tuts.

“Yes, sir,” Jean mocks, but he doesn’t move away from Nino’s hand and Nino lets his hand continue to rest against Jean’s skin.

Lotta hurries to put her back to the two so they don’t see her pleased grin.

When Lotta has to go, Jean’s convinced Nino to let him huddle on the couch with some jello instead of in his bed and Nino’s on the floor in front of him, laptop on the coffee table and the TV turned on to a baking show, the volume low.

She comes back several hours later to playful arguing in the kitchen. Jean’s wrapped up in a blanket at the kitchen table and Nino’s at the stove with his sleeves rolled up, heating up leftovers from their lunch. She’s just in time to be the tie-breaker on the matter of which bakery had the better tomato bread.

Neither boy is even close to being right and when Lotta provides the correct answer, they move to argue but pause, thinking, before admitting that she may be right.

“Of course I am,” she says, before coming around to kiss Jean’s cheek and see what Nino’s cooked because it smells delicious. They eat together, the boys filling Lotta in on what they did and Lotta talking about her classes. There’s laughter and smiles around the table and Nino and Jean keep looking to each other when they think no one else is watching.

Jean seems to be doing better the next day, but he’s still running a fever and overfilling wastebaskets with snot-filled tissues. Lotta’s only class is in the evening but she says she has a group project meeting during the day and Nino offers to come by again. She feels a little bad about lying but it’s for a good cause and is only validated when the doorbell rings and Jean insists on getting the door.

Lotta tiptoes after him and watches on as Nino’s expression softens as he greets Jean and Jean sways into Nino’s touch when Nino checks his temperature with his hand like the day prior. Nino’s face turns pink at Jean’s sigh, his smile soft and affectionate. “You seem better than yesterday.”

“Lotta won’t let me go to work though.”

Nino chuckles and brushes Jean’s hair back. His hand lingers before he takes it back and stuffs it into his pocket. “I said better, not fully recovered. Going to let me in?”

Lotta hurries away to not get caught and greets Nino when he’s passing the living room where she’s finishing up packing her bag for the day.

“What’re you two going to be up to today?” she asks.

“Finish a show we started yesterday?” Jean suggests, looking to Nino who makes no objections. “Will you be home for dinner?”

“I might be a little late, but yes,” Lotta answers. “But you don’t have to wait up for me if you get hungry.”

“I can cook something again. Save some for you when you get home so you don’t have to either,” Nino offers.

Lotta beams. “That would be great, if you don’t mind. We owe you, really.”

Nino shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Now you better get going or you’ll be late.”

Lotta pushes down the touch of guilt that spikes up. She’s just going to be going to a cafe near her school that she’s been wanting to try out with a few friends. But it’s for a good cause. “I’ll see you both tonight, then. Listen to Nino, Jean!”

She closes the door on Nino’s laughter and Jean’s mock-indignant shout that turns into hacking coughs and Nino’s worried alarm.

When Lotta gets home, she walks in on Nino coming out of the kitchen, which isn’t unusual but for the fact that he’s carrying Jean, one arm under Jean’s knees and the other supporting his back. Jean’s asleep, head pillowed against Nino’s chest.

“He fell asleep at the kitchen table,” Nino says quietly. “Just taking him to bed.”

And that’s all fair and innocent. It’s not the first time Lotta’s seen Nino carry Jean, especially after their nights out drinking since Jean’s never been able to hold his liquor well. But Nino’s ears are red and he isn’t meeting Lotta’s gaze, and he’s never carried Jean like this before.

“I’ll get the door,” is all Lotta says and she leads the way to Jean’s room, holding the door as Nino maneuvers through it sideways so Jean’s legs don’t hit the door frame.

Lotta hurries after to pull back Jean’s sheets and Nino gently lays Jean down. They both freeze when Jean grumbles, rolls onto his side facing Nino and grabbing onto Nino’s arm. Nino almost falls on Jean but catches himself against the headboard, braced over Jean who shifts around, ends up hugging Nino’s arm to his chest before he’s finally content and relaxes.

Lotta bites her lip to keep from giggling. Nino looks like he can’t pick between being panicked and thoroughly endeared.

Nino waits a beat before he slowly wiggles his arm free. Jean frowns, whines in the back of his throat but Nino frees himself and Jean doesn’t wake up. Only grumbles before turning over onto his other side and nuzzling into his pillow. He looks upset for a moment before his face smooths out in sleep.

Lotta and Nino quickly and quietly leave Jean to it, Lotta closing the door behind them with a quiet click.

“I’ve never seen him do that,” Lotta says innocently, glancing up at Nino.

Nino scratches the back of his head, his cheeks dusted light pink. “He’s just sick.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of the matter. Lotta doesn’t do anything to help.

Day three of Jean’s cold he’s doing a lot better. His coughs aren’t as harsh and his sneezing and sniffling has reduced considerably. He’s still feverish and tired though but will probably be well enough to return to work by tomorrow. Lotta’s somewhat impressed he didn’t fight so much to go to work earlier but she has a feeling she knows the cause.

Nino comes over again in the afternoon with a bag of the best tomato bread in Badon and a sheepish smile. Lotta had only had a morning class and Jean had still been asleep when she got home. There weren’t any plans for Nino to come over and help again, but like with Jean, she isn’t all that surprised.

“How’s Jean?” he asks, following Lotta to the kitchen so she can cut the bread and make some tea to go with it.

“Much better,” she replies. “Oh can you get me a plate? And a small bowl? But yes, his fever’s almost completely gone.”

Nino grabs a large plate and Lotta arranges the sliced bread on it. She goes into the fridge and grabs what she needs to make a quick salsa to go with the bread. Nino helps, getting olive oil and salt and helping her chop the vegetables. They work together and Nino asks about her class that morning and Lotta asks after his work and any upcoming assignments for the newspaper he’s freelancing for.

He’s talking about a work trip he’s going on next month to Dowa and then Suitsu, in the middle of promising to bring back regional specialties, when Jean stumbles into the kitchen. “Lotta, have you seen my—Oh, Nino?”

“Hey, J—!” Nino cuts himself off with a bitten back curse. Metal clatters and alarm blooms on Jean’s face.

Alarmed, Lotta turns to check on Nino and the first thing she sees is blood. It’s all over Nino’s fingers, the cutting board, and the cilantro he’d been chopping. She quickly ushers him to the sink and tells Jean to go and get their first aid kit. Luckily, the blood had made the cut look worse than it actually was and doesn’t look like a trip to the emergency room.

“Hold this to the cut,” Lotta says, handing Nino a paper towel. She has him sit at the kitchen table just as Jean returns with the first aid kit.

“Here.” Jean sets the kit on the table and opens it up. He takes out the packet of antiseptic wipes and a box of waterproof bandages, pulling out a strip and removing the wrapping.

“You’re sick, why are you running around with wet hair and no shirt?” Nino doesn’t look at Jean.

“I was looking for the flannel shirt you got me a few birthdays ago.”

Lotta knows exactly which shirt Jean’s talking about. It’s the softest thing he owns because of how often he wears it. It’s about two and a half sizes too big and always sliding off one of his shoulders. Nino’d offered to exchange it for a size that fits but Jean said he was happy with it as is. And he has been. He’ll always wear it when he’s not feeling well or wants to have a comfy, lazy day. Lotta’s also noticed he tends to pull it out when Nino’s away for work and they don’t see him for a while. She’s not sure Jean’s aware of that particular habit.

“It’s in the dryer, I haven’t had a chance to fold up the laundry yet. Take care of Nino, I’ll go find it.”

Jean’s in the middle of saying no but Lotta’s already up and heading to their laundry closet, leaving Nino with Jean. She finds the shirt quickly, shaking out the wrinkles, before returning to the kitchen. She hides for a moment at the corner before revealing herself.

Jean’s taken her seat and is in the middle of applying a bandage to Nino’s finger. Nino’s looking everywhere but at Jean, or at least trying to. His flushed face is angled to the side but his eyes keep drifting back to Jean bent over carefully applying the bandage.

“There.” Jean sits up and Nino takes his hand back.

“It’s really not a big deal, I could have taken care of it myself,” Nino says. “Seriously, where’s your towel, you need to dry your hair. And put on a shirt.” There’s a hidden please, tense, just shy of desperate.

Lotta makes her appearance then, brandishing Jean’s shirt. “Found it. Here. And Nino’s right, you should to dry your hair. It’s still dripping, Jean.”

“Okay, okay.” Jean takes the shirt. “I left my towel in the bathroom.” He heads back to his room while tugging the shirt on.

Lotta and Nino share a fond, commiserating look at Jean’s behaviour. There’s no one else he’d behave spoiled and childish in front of, whether he was sick or not.

While Jean dressed and dried his hair, Lotta returns to the almost finished salsa. She cleans up the bloodied cilantro, staring Nino back into sitting when he tries to get up and help. They still have plenty of the herb left and Lotta quickly chops enough to finish up the salsa, adding a squeeze of lemon as a finishing touch.

Jean returns with his shirt buttoned up but the neckline hangs low on his sternum and the sleeves inch just past his fingertips. His towel is hanging around his shoulders and while his hair looks more ruffled than it had been, it’s still visibly damp.

“Oh come here,” Nino says. He pulls the towel from Jean’s shoulders and shepherds him to a chair, sitting him down and standing behind him. He drops the towel on Jean’s head and starts properly drying his hair.

“I’m sick, not a child,” Jean grumbles, but he laughs and he tilts his head to make it easier for Nino and Nino’s got a smile of his own. Lotta finishes the salsa and heats slices of the tomato bread for a few seconds on the stove, just to lightly toast them before setting them on a large plate around the bowl of salsa.

Nino’s done with Jean’s hair when she sets the snack on the table. “There we go. Oh, what do you boys want to drink?”

“Sit down, Lotta,” Nino says. “I can make a pot of tea for all of us.” Lotta goes to argue, but Nino folds Jean’s towel over the back of Jean’s chair and rounds the table to gently guide Lotta into a chair, his hands on her shoulders. “I cut my finger, barely. Just, relax.” He goes to fill up the kettle and pull out three mismatched mugs, Lotta’s favorite, Jean’s favorite, and the one the Otuses bought specifically for Nino. “How’s that project going?”

“Oh, uh, good.” The question catches her off-guard, takes her a moment to remember the little lie from earlier. She busies herself from the lie by helping herself to bread and salsa. “We’re pretty much done.”

Jean’s watching her from across the table, a brow slightly raised. “What’s it about again?”

“Just something for my poli-sci class.” Lotta takes a large bite of bread so she can’t talk anymore. Jean’s eyes narrow slightly and Lotta widens hers innocently.

When Nino joins them, tea brewed and made to each person’s liking, he looks between the two siblings. “Did I miss something?”

“Just the bread. Told you it’s the best tomato bread in the city,” Lotta chirps. She doesn’t respond to Jean’s suspicious look over his mug.

With the exception of a few sniffles and the odd cough, Jean makes a full recovery and is back to work by the end of the week. He could have used up another sick day and just gone back in on Monday, none of his coworkers or Owl would mind and in fact encourage it, but as much as Jean complains of his transfers never going through, he’s got his fair share of workaholic tendencies.

Lotta’s preparing dinner when Jean gets home.

“Hey! Wash up and help me with dinner. I’m making pasta.”

“Hey, yeah, give me a minute,” Jean replies. His gaze drifts around the apartment, looking for someone, and Lotta can tell it’s an unconscious action. She doesn’t say anything until Jean’s swapped his uniform for comfy pajamas and is by her side grilling chicken.

“Got used to having Nino around,” she says idly. “Reminded me of the past.” Even though she has ulterior motives, it’s an honest comment. Nino and Jean were attached at the hip when they were in high school and even through college despite their different departments. Granted, Nino had an agenda, but the relationship he forged with her and Jean and even their parents was authentic.

Jean laughs. “If Nino wasn’t over, I’d be at his.”

“And he always brought me treats or sent you back home with them.”

Jean hip checks her gently. “So easily bribed by baked goods and sweets.”

Lotta checks him back. “At least I get something in exchange. Nino just has to smile at you and you’ll do whatever he says.”

It may have been too direct, but Jean flusters and nearly flings a piece of chicken breast into the wall. He composes himself, or at least tries to. “That’s—he’s my best friend.”

Lotta could continue to press, but fast-tracking a decade of mutual pining and obliviousness is a delicate matter and she can’t push too much too quickly. “We should do something to thank him, though, for helping out this past week.”

“You know Nino’ll brush any thanks off.”

“Yes, but we could treat him to dinner or something. It’s been a while since we all went out for a nice meal anyway.”

She can tell Jean’s considering it, more than considering it. His hesitation is from trying not to seem too eager, but his unconscious smile and excited energy betray him.

“True.” His lips purse in thought before he seems to recall something. “He mentioned a hotpot place near the park he wants to try. Early dinner on Sunday?”

“We haven’t had hotpot in forever! I’ll invite him.”

“No!” Jean rushes. His ears warm as he collects himself, “I mean, I can tell him. I was the one he, and you, had to deal with. Let me handle everything.”

Lotta bites back her grin. “If you insist. Why don’t you call him now? I can finish up here.”

Jean hesitates for a moment but hands over the spatula and goes off to get his phone. Lotta lowers the heat to medium and keeps her ears open when Jean’s call connects. She stifles a laugh when Jean’s voice cracks at his first attempt at hello.

“No, I’m fine,” he says after a pause. Lotta can imagine him rolling his eyes by his tone. He clears his throat. “Actually, I was, uh, well, Lotta and I were wondering if you were free Sunday night, say six? It’s been a while since we went out to eat together and you said you wanted to try that hotpot place. Yes, I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t want to thank you anyway. Let me—us—treat you to dinner.”

It’s almost painful listening to Jean stumble and stutter and correct himself while doing something he’s obliviously done for years, but all Lotta wants is to hear Nino’s side of the conversation. She can imagine he’s doing no better than her brother.

“We’re treating you, Nino, whether you like it not.” After a pause, Jean’s voice softens. “Yeah, see you Sunday.”

Lotta and Jean walk up to the hotpot place to find Nino already there by the entrance. He’s in his usual turtleneck and jeans, but his combat boots have been swapped out for shiny leather loafers and he’s thrown on a fitted blazer. And he’s not alone. There are two girls giggling around him. Nino doesn’t seem as interested in whatever their conversation keeps glancing at his phone. Jean starts slowing down.

Lotta is not about to have silly misunderstandings detract or even slow down her progress with the two boys, especially when they’ve been doing so well. Jumping up and waving, she calls out, “Nino!” and hurries over. Nino’s face lightens in a sincere smile and he excuses himself from the girls.

Lotta runs into Nino with a full bodied hug, wrapping her arms around Nino’s waist. She peeks around him to the girls who are looking on in disappointment and barely holds back from sticking her tongue out at them as they turn around and walk away. She looks back up at Nino. “Did you wait long?” They aren’t late, but they’re not early like they usually plan to be. Jean had a crisis over what shirt to wear, though he won’t admit it. But the shirt Lotta helped him pick brings out his eyes and accentuate his waist and Nino’s eyes are fixed on him.

“Just got here myself,” Nino says almost absently. Lotta pulls out of the hug and waits for Jean to catch up to them. When he does, the two just stare at each other after saying quiet ‘hi’s like they’re high schoolers on their first date. Lotta considers pretending to have an emergency and have to leave the two alone for dinner. But they’ll have plenty of time for dates without a little sister third-wheeling in the future. Besides, she read the reviews for the restaurant and had been looking forward to trying several dishes all weekend.

“I’m starving,” she chirps, jarring the two out of their little world. “Let’s go in? I looked them up and they have rolled ice cream.”

The two laugh at that, Nino ruffling Lotta’s hair. “That’s how I heard about this place. A client recommended the matcha.”

“Let’s have dinner before we start thinking about dessert,” Jean says. He leads the way into the restaurant while Lotta shares a knowing look with Nino. They never leave without ordering dessert, even if they have to take it home for later.

They get a booth against the wall, glossy black with cushioned benches. Nino takes a seat on one side, Jean slides into the other, and Lotta beside Jean. Nino tries to keep his orders simple and towards the cheaper end but Jean orders all of Nino’s favorites for him, Nino glaring from across the table and Lotta laughing at their antics. They end up with a spread that’s more than enough for three, maybe even four. Nino takes charge of cooking until both Lotta and Jean bat his chopsticks away and Jean threatens to confiscate Lotta’s to preside as designated hotpot cook.

At first, there’s visible awkwardness between Nino and Jean, the two taking turns at being flustered and sneaking glances when the other isn’t looking. It’s adorable if ridiculous. But eventually, conversation flows smoothly as they argue over when a vegetable or meat is done and Jean forgetting to give himself food once it’s ready. Jean gripes about trips, talks fondly about the new addition to his team even though the new kid makes Jean feel like he’s a hundred years old.

“Imagine that,” Nino says with wry grin.

Jean kicks him gently under the table. “You could pass for being younger than me.”

Nino laughs like it’s a joke, but Jean’s right. Ever since he revealed the truth, he’s stopped hiding the signs of his age but Lotta still thinks he looks of an age with Jean, and not nearly a decade older. He’d looked closer in age to Lotta when he spiked his hair and hid the creases around his eyes. Even the bits of silver coming into his hair didn’t age him much. Jean’s grays were just better hidden in his blond hair.

They steadily eat and soon there’s nothing but the broth left. Nino finishes his glass of water and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “That was great. Thank you both.”

“This was our thank you,” Jean says, “So no thank yous from you tonight.”

Nino rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling wide enough his crows feet he’d worn glasses to hide make an appearance.

Lotta leans back and sighs happily. “I’m so full. One of you will have to carry me home.”

“Too full for dessert?” Jean teases. But when he flags down their waiter to ask for their bill, he asks for three orders of their rolled ice cream to-go.

When they step outside, Nino walks with them to the curb to flag down a cab. They catch one fairly quickly, it was still early enough in the night on a Sunday, and Jean slides in first, Lotta right behind him.

“What’re you doing, get in,” Lotta says when Nino bends into the open door and tries to say goodnight. She lightly shakes their bag of take out. “We’ve got ice cream to eat.”

Nino seems to hesitate but he looks past Lotta’s shoulder and his mouth quirks into a reluctant smile before he gets in and closes the door behind him. Lotta looks up and catches Jean’s expression in the rear view mirror, a pleased little grin, as he tells the driver their address.

When they get home, they make their way to the living room to enjoy their dessert. Lotta hands out the three plastic boxes—strawberry for Jean, chocolate for Nino, and matcha for herself—and the packed plastic spoons and get settled along the couch. Lotta takes the corner and grabs the TV remote. She puts on an episode from a food documentary series she’s been watching after Jean and Nino say they’re fine with anything and gets comfortable.

The three watch the episode, which takes place in Rokkusu, and eat their dessert in a comfortable, cozy silence with occasional commentary on something the show covers. Nino recognizes an area in one of the b-roll footage from a freelance job a while ago and Jean asks someone to remind him to check out one of the places the show mentions the next time he’s in the state for work.

They lose track of time, or at least Jean and Nino do, ending up more invested in the series than Lotta, her scheming aside. Ice cream long finished, empty containers left to be dealt with later on the coffee table, the two had sunk into the couch, and, as time went on, seemed to drift towards one another. Nino’s arm is stretched along the back of the couch, a hair’s breath from Jean’s neck and Jean’s drawn his legs up, knees directing his body towards the photographer. Neither seem to notice the way the space between them has been gradually diminishing. Lotta almost doesn’t want to disrupt the moment, but it is a Sunday night. Besides, there’ll be more nights.

About a quarter of the way through a third episode, Lotta yawns and stretches, and makes startled noise when she makes a point to check the clock on the wall. “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”

Nino looks up. “Oh wow. You’re right. I should get going.” He sits up and pulls away from Jean, starting to clean up.

But Jean stops him, reaching out and catching Nino’s arm. “It’ll be even later by the time you get back to your place,” he says. “Stay the night.”

Nino starts to shake his head. His eyes flash down to Jean’s hand curled around his bicep and he wavers.

Lotta goes for the second of weakness. “You’d have to wait for a cab and everything. Here. I’ll take care of that. Jean, get the blankets and prepare the couch and find something for Nino to sleep in.”

Before either can say another word, Lotta sweeps up the take-out containers to dispose of them in the kitchen. When she walks by the living room on her way to her room, Jean’s got an armful of blankets and Nino’s arranging pillows and cushions. She hides around the corner, just to observe.

Jean drops the collection of blankets on the coffee table, says, “I can sort this. Grab something of mine and take my bed tonight.”

“I’m perfectly fine with the couch.”

“It’s not good for your back,” Jean counters.

“Couch isn’t any good for your back either.”

“But you’re much older than me, remember,” Jean teases. Nino throws the pillow he’s holding at Jean, who catches it just before it hits him in the face. He’s grinning as he lowers it and hugs it to his chest. “But really. We dragged you out and brought you here.”

Nino walks over and reaches for the pillow. “I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to,” he says softly, Lotta almost can’t make out the words. Louder, her says, “Now give me that. One night on the couch won’t kill me. Besides, your couch is comfortable.”

Feeling guilty, like she’s intruding (she’s aware she’s being nosy and spying already) Lotta quietly makes her way to her room to get ready for bed.

An hour or so before her alarm is set to go off, Lotta wakes up, thirsty. She considers just going back to sleep but gets up and shuffles out of her room to go grab a glass of water from the kitchen. All the lights are off, only the faint glow of the sun rising bleeding through the drawn curtains lighting the apartment. She gets her water and makes to head back to her room to read for a bit before getting ready for the day, makes a slight detour to check in on whoever ended up taking the couch for the night.

She’s careful to tiptoe as she nears the living room but notices a distinct lack of blankets and middle-aged man on the couch. The bathroom door is cracked open, lights off, unoccupied. Frowning, she detours to the front door but all shoes are accounted for, Nino’s loafers lined up neatly next to Jean’s.

Confused, she walks back to her room. The boys will turn up for breakfast. As she passes by Jean’s door, it quietly swings open and Jean comes out, already dressed for work, coat folded over his arm. His eyes widen at seeing Lotta and he closes the door quietly behind him. “Morning,” he whispers. “You’re up early.”

Lotta shakes her glass of water, matches his quiet tone. “Thirsty.” She doesn’t point out that he’s up and dressed earlier than usual as well. “Where’s Nino?”

To Lotta’s surprise, Jean’s ears turn bright red and he glances off to the side. “He’s, uh. We argued about who would take the couch last night. Comprised and shared my bed.” He adds, almost a little defensively, “It’s big enough. He’s using my bathroom.”

Lotta does her absolute best not to betray her thoughts on her face. Jean’s bed is big enough for two, but only just. Especially when the two people are men over 180cm. “I was thinking pancakes for breakfast? We have chocolate chips, I think. I just need to wash up.”

Jean seems relieved that Lotta doesn’t comment on what he’d revealed. “ I got it, you go get ready for the day.”

“Okay, thanks. Start some coffee too, please?”

Jean nods with a smile and ruffles her hair before heading off to make breakfast for everyone. When Lotta’s done getting ready, she comes back into the kitchen to Jean pouring pancake batter into a pan and Nino nursing a mug of coffee at Jean’s side, looking down at her brother with the softest, fondest expression as Jean talks too quietly for Lotta to make out the words.

She quietly tiptoes back to her room. She can take a little longer to get ready.

The next week or so go by with nothing too unusual. Jean ends up appointed to staff a recruitment table at a local high schools’ career fairs for the next week or so with the new kid and ends up coming home earlier than usual. Nino’s out of town for a job and swinging by Jumoku to get some photos of a local festival that will coincide with his travels. And Lotta prepares for her upcoming exams. She spends more time at school or the library, her food science class has a standing study group session twice a week before the final, coming home late enough that Jean’s taken charge of meals so Lotta can focus on school.

After the last study session that had ended up running later than usual since they all decided to treat themselves to dessert crepes as a reward for all their studying, Lotta cheerfully makes her way home. She can’t wait to tell Jean about the food truck, knowing he’d love the strawberry cream with lemon drizzle option and Nino the double chocolate brownie.

“I’m home!” Lotta calls out, closing the door. She toes off her shoes and puts them away, noticing a familiar pair of boots. “Nino, I didn’t know you—!”

Clapping both her hands to her mouth, Lotta stares at the scene in the living room, lit by the soft golden late-afternoon sun, doing her best not to make any further noise.

Cuddled up together on the couch are Jean and Nino, fast asleep. Jean’s wrapped up in his favorite blanket and curled up against Nino, using Nino’s shoulder as a pillow. Nino’s got his arm around Jean, his cheek resting against Jean’s head, his breath gently fluttering Jean’s hair with each exhale. In the late afternoon glow, they look soft and peaceful and Lotta’s grateful she didn’t accidentally wake them up.

She means to quietly leave, go back out and kill some time at the bakery or a cafe. Let the two continue their nap, wake up without interruption, have some time to themselves. Knowing Jean, knowing the both of them, really, if Lotta were home, any further progress would be halted if not undone.

But the scene is too sweet to not capture for the future.

Doing her best to be as quiet as possible, Lotta digs out her phone from her bag, wincing at every little sound that seems to echo ten times louder than usually. She quickly pulls up her camera app and lines up the shot, zooming in to frame the two men perfectly. She takes the photo and freezes in horror when she realizes she forgot to make sure her phone was on silent as the shutter sounds.

For a long second, Lotta holds her breath. Jean’s forehead creases in a frown. His nose scrunches up. But he turns his head, snuggles further into Nino’s and his expression smooths as he lets out a light snore and his chest rises and falls in slow, even breaths. Lotta closes her eyes, breathes a sigh of relief.

When she opens them, she meets Nino’s gaze.

Lotta fumbles her phone but just manages to catch it and hug it to her chest. Nino’s lips quirk into a held back laugh. In his arms, Jean shifts and mutters a quiet groan. To Lotta astonishment, Nino murmurs to her brother, words too quiet for her to make out, and lifts the arm that’s around Jean’s shoulders to stroke Jean’s hair. Jean smiles, mumbles something back but it must get lost in Nino’s shirt. When he’s settled again, Lotta’s heart is full and she can’t help her smile even if she wanted to. Nino looks up at her and there’s a light flush on his cheeks. He brings his other hand up, holds his index finger to his mouth. Lotta returns the gesture, grinning wide, and tiptoes back to the door.

Lotta is all smiles when she goes to her favorite cafe. She just shakes her head, lips sealed, when asked if anything happened by the familiar cashier. She orders a slice of her favorite cake and drink and fights the urge to text her grandfather, Owl, and Maggie. She can’t wait for Jean to tell her. Wonders if Nino will tell him Lotta saw them.

Almost an hour later, she gets a text from Nino asking if she would be fine with curry for dinner. He was spending the night and wanted to cook for them.

Lotta is more than happy with curry, and tells him so. She also says she’ll bring dessert. When asking for her check she asks for a to-go order of one of their small chocolate cakes that’s easily shared between three people, though Nino could polish off more than half on his own if he let himself.

Looking forward to it. See you soon, he replies. He also asks if she can send him a copy of the picture she took.

Nope! she replies, without any explanations. She’s already decided to get the photo printed and framed as part of her engagement gift to them. Hopefully that doesn’t take another fifteen odd years.

#ninojean #acca 13 #ACCA 13-Ku Kansatsu-Ka #nino #jean otus #lotta otus #my writing #tumblr fic

29 notes · View notes

drivingsideways · 4 years

Text

Coda/ missing scene for Algebra: an outline, following from the last paragraph, but before the last line. READ IT FIRST BECAUSE IT’S BRILLIANT AND YOU WILL THANK ME.

Yo, @isaekkiya and @rain-hat come collect your trash

It still takes another year.

It takes another year of Yeong wandering the world, setting things right where he can as the Kingdom of Corea’s man in the UNPKO, or at least trying to stop bad situations from descending into absolute disasters. He learns to love Shahrukh Khan, and cheap Russian vodka. He consumes goraasa be dama by the potful and gets hooked onto cinnamon tea.

He starts sending pictures to Gon: a black cat with a single white patch of fur around its left eye in Istanbul, a sunset in Isfahan, the domes of Samarkand.

At first, they’re just pictures of things and places, he doesn’t add anything to them, no thinking of you or I miss you. He figures it doesn’t need saying; he’s never understood those postcards that said wish you were here. Of course you do, why else would you be sending a fucking postcard.

Gon replies with his own pictures.

Well, the first twenty are just Maximus, but the twenty first is blurry, as though the lens were dipped in water; it comes on New Year’s Day- or New Year’s Eve, in Yeong’s time- a view of the palace from the island, it seemed Busan was having a rainy start.

Gon had kept with the tradition, after all, Yeong thinks, and hesitates only for a moment, before writing back, I miss him too.

So it goes.

The first time he calls Gon, he’s been holed up in a tent in an Amazonian rainforest for twenty straight days because the rain just hasn’t stopped.

It’s April; in Corea, the azaleas must be in riotous bloom. Yeong stares up at the towering canopy of wet dark green through the flaps of his tent and calls Gon.

The crackle and hum on the line doesn’t quite hide the sleepy surprise of the first “Yeong?” and then the panicked, “Yeong? Yeong? Is everything alright? What’s wrong ?Tell me immediately!”

This was what the Titanic felt like when it hit that iceberg, Yeong thinks, as he cracks open, a cleaving that leaves him floundering, unmoored.

“I’m alright” he says, and for the first time since he was four, “Gon hyung”.

There’s an abrupt silence on the other end; all he can hear is the static.

It lasts so long that Yeong thinks he might have lost the connection after all, and he’s just about to hang up, when Gon says, sounding breathless and annoyed, “I don’t think you appreciate the restraint I’m exercising right now not to just fly across the world and drag you home!”

Yeong wipes at his eyes, and huffs, his voice not quite in control, “I appreciate it, pyeha” he says, “I do”.

Gon sighs.

They stay quiet for a while, just the buzz and hum of electrons between them, and Yeong thinks of patterns and fate and destiny, and he says, “It never rains like this back home. I feel like I’m turning into water, just sitting here, doing nothing”.

There’s a delay before Gon’s voice comes over the line, a soft huff, “Be grateful, if it stops raining in the Amazon, we’re all irreparably screwed”.

“I’m aware of that fact” says Yeong, “unbelievable as that may sound to you”.

God, what is he doing here, flirting awkwardly like the fourteen-year old he never was.

“What are you going to do about it anyway?” and that’s enough to set Gon off on a whole different tangent, the sleepiness in his voice gone as he describes the climate change initiatives that Prime Minister Koo and he are working on.

It goes on for twenty minutes, and Jeong mostly just listens and hums at appropriate junctures, letting Gon’s voice wash over him.

And he was wrong, he wasn’t a ship, wrecked on the rock that was Gon, he was an ice-cube slowly melting in the warm cavern of his mouth.

“That woman drives me crazy” Gon is sighing. “It’s too bad I reconstituted the CHRC, that was probably a rash decision on my part”.

And then, as though remembering that he wasn’t supposed to be that person anymore, he adds, guiltily, “Uh, not that I’m undoing that”.

Yeong laughs.

It probably sounds tinny and not like himself at all on the other side.

Gon says, “Yeong”

“Yes” he says, when his heart stops doing crazy things in his chest, “I’m here”.

It escalates after that- as much as possible, given that Yeong is often in places without mobile signals or bandwidth, or whatever communication is available is heavily restricted. There are long periods when they don’t hear from each other, and when Yeong emerges from whatever dark hole he’s been in, it is to at least fifteen videos of Maximus, and like, ten million voice mails, and an inbox that’s two thousand separate single-line notes, because Gon can’t write emails like a normal person.

Gon is not a normal person, he is mortifyingly ridiculous, and Yeong sighs, and gives in and pulls strings to get his hands on a military grade CoreaTech prototype phone that has amazing battery life and a gazillion gigas of storage, because it turns out that he is also just that stupid, and he doesn’t want to delete a single memory of this time.

He calls Gon from the phone, leaning against his hotel window in Lagos.

Below him, the city glitters in neon and gold.

It’s 9 pm on a Thursday in Lagos, and 5 am on Friday in Busan, and Yeong thinks about the unreliability of time, as a concept, and the brief flare in the dark that is one human lifetime and calls his husband.

“Yeong-ah” says Gon, apparently still half asleep. These days, he tends to sleep in more often, instead of waking at 4 am like he used to.

“I was wondering if you’d reached” he’s mumbling. “Did you get my messages?”

“Yes” he says, “all twenty-one million of them”.

“Mrrmmmph” mutters Gon, half into his pillow, and Yeong- Yeong knows what Gon looks like, sleep- mussed and incoherent, and the ache in his chest spreads to other parts.

“Gon hyung” he says, “Will you do something for me?”

“Mmm?”

“Gon hyung”, he whispers, “touch yourself for me”

There’s silence and then a wide-awake, if shaky, “Yeong-ah”.

“Touch yourself like I would” Yeong instructs, and oh, he hadn’t really thought this through, words are not his strong suit, and he has never even sexted once in his life, never mind anything else, but somehow, it works, it works, because Gon moans his name, and sighs in his ear, and the military grade phone with its excellent speakers is worth every single moment of an uneasy conscience, and Yeong comes with a gasped out plea, that is Gon hyung, that is beloved, darling, husband, mine.

Afterward, they float together on a silent cloud of shared breath across the world.

Gon doesn’t say, come home, or let me come to you , and Yeong is grateful for that.

Yeong loves him so fucking much, that he’s going to disintegrate entirely if he doesn’t see Gon in the next twenty-four hours.

He texts Gon from the airport, “See you in twenty hours” and then switches off his phone.

When he lands, he’s not sure what he’s expecting- perhaps Gon waiting on the tarmac for him, like that one time.

But Gon’s not there, just Captain Seok-Pil and he rises from his deep bow, to say, “Welcome home Prince Consort Jo” with a wide grin, and Yeong sighs, and says, “Please tell me he’s not got the entire Royal Navy Band or something waiting for me at the Palace”.

“His Majesty retired to his study earlier today and hasn’t emerged since” Captain Seok-Pil informs him, with a sidelong glance.

“Ah” says Yeong. “Alright, thank you”.

The Royal Navy Band may not be there, but it feels like the entire staff of the palace, is out there to welcome him back, or at least get a glimpse of him, and Yeong performs all the necessary rituals of greeting or ignoring, as required, and tries not to run down the last corridor to the study.

He slips into the study, shutting the heavy wooden door softly behind him.

It looks much the same as he’d last seen it- three years ago, now- the floor to ceiling shelves of books, the glass covered in equations. Gon is sitting at his desk, staring at a book, rubbing a page between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.

Yeong knows that Gon knows that he’s in the room- he sees him swallow hard- and the way his shoulders go just a little bit taut.

“Pyeha” he says, softly, as he approaches, and Gon looks up at that.

Yeong goes around the desk and turns the chair toward him, before he sinks to his knees.

“Pyeha” he says again, staring up at that beloved face.

Gon’s hazel eyes are wide and- terrified- Yeong realizes.

He reaches to take the book out from Gon’s trembling hands- it’s Khwarizmi’s Compendium on Calculation and Balancing, the one that he’d sent more than a year ago, after he’d realized that he’d never stood a chance of getting away. He sets the book on the desk.

Gon’s fingers are covered in chalk.

It’s how he soothes himself, Yeong knows, furiously working out hypotheses, the numbers a music that only Gon can hear.

“I’m going to fuck it up again” Gon says, baldly. “Someday”.

Yeong raises Gon’s hands to his lips, kisses the ring on it, and then his knuckles.

“I won’t let you” he promises. “That’s my job”.

He huffs, “Besides, even if I fail, that woman you’ve got running circles around every major world leader won’t let you. You’re covered”.

Gon’s fingers tighten on his.

“Don’t divorce me” he says.

Yeong looks at him.

“Is that an order, pyeha?”

Yeong rather enjoys the way that Gon’s mind scrambles for the answer, his eyes widening.

“Yes..?”

“Right answer” Yeong whispers, and he’s clambering onto Gon’s lap, and tilting his face up, so he can seal their mouths together.

After some time- Yeong has no idea how much- Gon eases away an inch to whisper, “I’m going to be ridiculous now”.

“Mmhmm” says Yeong, nuzzling at his temple.

Gon stands up, lifting Yeong in his arms, with hardly an effort.

Yeong had forgotten this part (not really), how strong Gon is, how he could use that giraffe body of his to short circuit Yeong’s brain within seconds.

“I’m going to carry my husband to my royal bed and ravish him despite his pleas for mercy like the despot I am” Gon whispers, into the corner of his mouth, “I’m not going to let him leave my bed for a week”.

Well, thinks Yeong, between long, lavish kisses, as he wraps his legs tighter around Gon, and lets himself be carried out of the study, past the staff that’s scrambling to get out of sight and way, and into the bedroom and pressed into the silk duvet, it was good to be with a man who kept his promises.

#tkem #jogon #jo yeong x lee gon #THIS IS ENTIRELY @RAINHAT'S FAULT FOR ATTACKING ME AT 6 AM WITH THE WORST FEELINGS #NOW BOTH OF YOU LEAVE ME ALONE SO THAT I CAN GO BACK TO BEING A GON-ANTI

11 notes · View notes

fortheheavenssake · 5 years

Text

PG MM Anon Interpretation Collection- 12

77: Oct. 6

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG INTERPRETATION OF MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

October 6,2019 1407 hrs CST

MM Anon

MM ANON … the Queen …… “ one can’t choose ones family “…… “ Philip loves me doing Melania” …… “I rather liked Donald “ …… “ l frightening Vlad…… “ on our day together she never stopped yapping “ … “Harry ‘ we all make mistakes “… “ the little one, she’s a fireball “ …… “Camilla says she’s illiterate “ … “ what sort of name was that!!!!!”…” What!! Christmas ‘she’ll be lucky “ … “LG ‘ that’s why it’s called the Queens speech ‘ so f#@ck them!!

Oh this is going to be fun!!😄😁😁😁

the Queen

This is a fun riddle, call it HMTQ Greatest Hits DVD 🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂 An assortment of HMTQ comments!

“ one can’t choose ones family “

The old saying you can choose your friends but you cannot choose your family! In processing, strategizing, meetings etc etc, things have been on overload with madam, Harry, and BOJO, that whole political situation. There has got to be some angry frustrated emotions regarding PA, Harry having been caught up in this mess and how things have dragged on and out! All the hacking, invasion of privacy and just generally very poor choices in life by family members.

“ Philip loves me doing Melania”

I hear HMTQ has a wicked sense of humour and loves riddles and mimicry. I can only imagine her trying to do an impression of Melania Trump, her accent, everything. This is hilarious, PP Is reportedly also having that wicked British wry self deprecating or mimicking others too. Oh how l would LOVE to be a fly on the wall!!😁

“I rather liked Donald “

HMTQ gave President Trump and his huge family a real Royal welcome literally! The time spent the Formal dinner, the dinner apt the U.S. Embassy that PC and Camilla attended. It sounds like she got on well with DT, We know he takes such pride and joy in his Scottish heritage from his mum. We also know that he has great respect for HMTQ, so much so he brought his entire family with him. We also know he brought some intel/evidence with him. Thank you sir! HMTQ enjoyed him and the time they spent together!

“ l frightening Vlad

Vlad is not the vampire, it’s Vladimir Putin. I am a bit confused by this because it seems a word is missing, like l am frightening, or l like frightening, hmmm. I think l will go with, he concerns her greatly.

“ on our day together she never stopped yapping “

This is madam and their train overnight trip together. It was seen as such an honour because HMTQ is rare to invite others along on the train and/or an overnight trip. We know from the videos and photos, how hyper madam was, she cut in front of the Queen and entered the car first. During the performance she looked hypomanic, laughing non-stop yapping according to HMTQ’s words. Poor your Majesty, you were able to endure that trip!

“Harry ‘ we all make mistakes “

As a reassuring loving granny, she took his hand in hers and spoke with him. No one is perfect, yeah he screwed up a few times in life, who hasn’t? He was ensnared in a plot that had done years of planning, reconnaissance, and he had absolutely no idea what he was in, until it was too late. Kind of like quicksand, you slowly get sucked in, and the more you move and wrestle trying to get yourself out the quicker you sink and drown. God bless you, your Majesty!

“ the little one, she’s a fireball “

She is talking about Lottie, our beloved Princess Charlotte! She was trending worldwide with her hairflip her first day of school. She is a real ham for the camera, ham meaning like to have fun when her photo is taken. She has a fantastic personality and watching her grow up will be joyous. I also think Savannah Phillips, Princess Anne’s granddaughter, fits this for sure she and Prince George 🤣🤣🤣😂!

“Camilla says she’s illiterate “

We all know Camilla loathes madam, love the video where she repeatedly asks for help🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂��😂. Sounds like her opinion of madam is in line with many others about madams skills in the writing, reading, and language usage and comprehension!

“ what sort of name was that!!!!!”

Arche🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣😂😂. I cannot believe to this day, that name, amw!! I know some think LG played a trick with this name being the same as the last Duke of Sussex eons ago!

” What!! Christmas ‘she’ll be lucky “

Madam is assuming another Christmas with the family she never had. Also that she will still be free and easy, sounds like HMTQ suggesting if she’s still free at Christmas she will be lucky. Lordy please let the handcuffs come soon, let them have their ducks all in a row and clang clang slam, locked cell, orange jumpsuit!

“LG ‘ that’s why it’s called the Queens speech ‘ so f#@ck them!!”

This whole issue of BOJO manipulating HMTQ, now today’s paper saying he didn’t really apologize he just said regret. He is willing to squat in No. 10 if there is a non-confidence vote and he is ousted as Prime Minister. He said they will have to take him in handcuffs! They are trying to sort out who would be the new PM, Brexit deadline, and if an election it would need at least five weeks. So John Bercow, Speaker of the House of Commons could be interim PM. It’s all up in the air. The Queens speech to the House is to take place October 14,2019. This is her telling LG in no uncertain terms she is duty bound to do this and refuse to be dragged any further into swaying politics on either side. Her job in weekly meetings with PM , is to be informed what’s happening, offer advice but never ever tell what’s to be done!No one else will be giving her speech except her. In a previous riddle we had something about someone else delivering her speech due to health or stress issues, l can’t recall exactly.

💜💜💜MM ANON💜💜💜 I HAVE HAD AN AWESOME FUN TIME DOING THIS RIDDLE💜💜💜

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

October 6,2019 1445 hrs CST

This is great PG such fun for us all! Love it….and love your personality shining through!😊💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

Oct 6th, 2019

——————

78: oct. 7

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜

MM Anon

MM ANON … Calapornia Dreem-in…… “ To be ‘ or Not to be…” …… “ I made a bit of a boob”……… “ the real Mc- COY darlings “…… “ artistic lie- sense …… “ not my best work”

October 7, 2019 1305 hrs CST

Well MM ANON , This riddle looks short but very unsweeten, the usual saying is short and sweet!

Calapornia Dreem-in

We had Calipornia in a riddle the other day. Today it’s Cala pornia .It seems that alleged tape has risen like a Phoenix from the ashes, online, but lots of disagreement on who the female is. I have ABSOLUTELY NO INTENTION of exposing myself to that. Reminds me of my old Sunday school song, be careful little eyes what you see, ears what you hear, mouth what you say..does anyone else remember that song? Dreem -in, a play on the song California Dreaming by The Mamas and The Papas, it was redone by Wilson Phillips, daughter of Michelle Phillips, Carnie Wilson daughter of Brian Wilson, l cannot recall the third member. They were great, remember Hold On! Great music. Anyhow, l digressed, Dreem,from wiki , is a sleep device that monitors, analyzes, and claims to enhance quality of sleep. It’s a miniaturized and autonomous headband that monitors the quality of sleep and then uses sound to help fall asleep faster, get deeper sleep, and wake up at the optimal time through smart alarm. End wiki.

So we have Calapornia Dreem-in, note California is spelt Cala, either way, the sirens currently flashing loudly is this alleged sex tape online. As l speculated the meaning the other day, is she doing a runner to Cali or Cala?? There are definite spelling alterations to confuse, MM ANON🤨🧐🤔.

Is someone having great difficulty sleeping from hobbies, stress, being picked on by the big bad royal reporters? Might the sleep aid device Dreem being in use, hence the addition of in after the hyphen? To clarify a hyphen is the sign here. - It is used to connect words together so they combine their meanings.

Alternatively perhaps Harry is using this sleep aid to help him sleep. We know all the things we have noticed, weight loss, scruffy clothes/shoes, look very sleep deprived, l am sure he is suffering tremendously as he serves this tour of duty for HMTQ.

“ To be ‘ or Not to be…”

MM ANON is taking us back to Shakespeare, Hamlet’s soliloquy on suicide to deal with all that has happened in his life. Has there been suicidal ideation on part of madam or Harry? Madam l highly doubt, a narcissist never goes there except by accident. We have see a slow descent in our Harry over the last two years, Wright loss, hair loss, scruffy clothes, looks sleep deprived etc etc, adding to that, the pain he appeared to be in, stepping onto that stage in SA and her grinning like a Cheshire Cat, sorry Cheshire, at his agony. I have said numerous times now but l hope upon immediate return to London he was given medical assessment and care, as well as emotional assessment and care. I pray to God l am wrong on this, but l have been concerned. He has been under stress like l have never seen, for over two years!

“ I made a bit of a boob”

A boob, slang wise has had different meanings over the generations. A boob can be a dopey goofy person, it can be a blunder or a boo boo, meaning error or mistake, it can be a term for breast. So who made a bit of a boob? I see the usage here being an error or mistake. I would say the first boob was a bootycall and then underestimating who the attacker was.

I think this could also be a cheeky reference to an alleged video online.

“ the real Mc- COY darlings

The saying the Real McCoy, goes back, at least for me, in the old western movies, not sure if McCoy was a brand of saddle, shotgun, something anyhow. So when someone says, it’s the real McCoy it means it’s 100% real or accurate. Here MM ANON has hyphenated the word McCoy, and elevated the word COY. Coys definition is, according to google, especially with reference to a woman) making a pretense of shyness or modesty that is intended to be alluring. Ok, interpretation, MM ANON is clearly telling us that any alleged sex/porn video is 109% accurate, correct and the actress in it, is her acting role, is acting very coyly. Yuck, l need a shower!🤮🤮🤮🤮

“ artistic lie- sense

To take artistic license is a common phrase meaning , again l will use google, as l want everyone to be able to understand who may not be familiar, “Artistic license (also known as poetic license, historical license, dramatic license, narrative license, or creative license) refers to deviation from fact or form for artistic purposes. It can include alteration of the conventions of grammar or language, or the rewording of pre-existing text.”

I have had a number of comments of appreciation from anons for being more elaborative as we have readers from all around the 🌎 🌍 world.

So example, a movie about Invention of the light bulb, let’s say, they add a romance to it, or drama , l hope l am explaining this clearly.

So here MM ANON says Artistic lie-sense, another hyphenated word. So madam as we well know has exaggerated EVERYTHING about herself, some may say lies. Her age, her number of marriages, not knowing anything about the BRF, fake pregnancy etc etc etc.

So , since this alleged sex video is the hot topic, l am thinking the acting would be very fake over dramatic moaning groaning etc etc, likely a person would, to cover past sins, would be inclined to lie about it, say it never happened or the great song by Shaggy, It Wasn’t Me!

“ not my best work”

Again another commonly used phrase especially, like me, l am so self-critical about how I type my interpretations of the riddles, typing, thinking of something after l have submitted it, or just having a bad day at it , l think l might have even wrote this here, this is not my best work.

Artists, musicians, creative people, common phrase!

So if there were an alleged tape, that proved real, one might use that phrase. A tv show might have been the pinnacle or the height of greatest work!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

October 7,2019 1355 hrs CST

Fantastic, thank you so much PG! You make it seem so easy, yet we know there is nothing easy in doing these interpretations! Hats off to you! 😁💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

gstqaobc

Thank you MM ANON 💜💜🙏🏻💜💜 This was quite challenging, l find it’s extremely important to me, as this blog of our dear 🐼, has a worldwide readership and l am trying very hard to explain phrases, words, slang etc, as l take this work very seriously, and l want everyone to be able to understand! Also l am, by character, a very verbally elaborative individual 🤣🤣🤣😂😂. Thank you dear 💜🐼💜 for posting this. GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Source: skippyv20

12 notes

Oct 7th, 2019

——————

79: Oct. 7

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON, THE FIRST ONE WAS TOUGH ENOUGH, THE SECOND RIDDLE IN ONE DAY MEANS SOMETHING BUG🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

MM Anon

MM ANON … lets move on!!!!…… fab unfore-tunate…… pre tour panic… …a fleet-ing vengeance …… “ don’t take this personally”…… “ you have TWO choices”…… “ get your bloody head out the sand”…… “it’s crumbling around your feet”……… “ baby ‘ what baby?”…… “we’re gonna need a bigger Bank”…… 🎼” if I was a rich man”🎼

Riddle Number Two on October 7, 2019 1735 CST

lets move on!!!!

Time to move on and restart life. Put this information out, let the chips fall where they may. I am certain, based on the FIRST riddle today, that Harry is done, he can take no more. Oh my , how will this be handled, l for one would NOT want to , after several years of being a horrible person, want to be on the receiving end of Fleet streets vengeance! How will details , hundreds of them be told or explained to the public, all the things that have been kept secret, the public will perceive being lied to and paying for that wedding, her clothes etc etc etc. Never mind that, the bigger picture of the plot, the backers!

fab unfore-tunate

Fab Four, the original was the Beatles. When madam came on the scene, and video of them, working on a Heads Together, the media, not sure which, dubbed them the Fab Four. As we know their offices have separated as well as their charities also.Rumours of dodgy money being missing from the charity. They are completely separate in every way now, at least publicly, this has caused an uproar because of madam spending and the varied rumours surrounding merching, and hobbies, and other things that have been on fire today! So much beloved was Harry , everyone wanted him to have the dream of family come true. His madam is loathed, that’s putting it mildly. There is so much public distress at seeing the boys, l will forever call them the boys, break up, fight and publicly sever ties.

pre tour panic

Have unexpected security issues arisen on the upcoming tour to Pakistan of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge scheduled for October 14-18/2019?

We know security is a major issue, as in the memo it stated this is their most complex Royal tour to date. I will keep them in prayer. This tour is essential in continuing relationships building.

a fleet-ing vengeance

Remember Fleet Street, how l explained that in a riddle the other day. MM ANON, l take this as the sh** is going to hit the fan imminently, l have felt an agitation inside for several days. Will they lay bare, pun intended, EVERYTHING they have in the dossier. OH PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PULL THE HANDLE LET IT ALL SPILL OUT!! It’s time! Harry is at the end of what he can take! SO ARE WE! How this will all be done and handled l have no clue but it’s going to be earth shattering across the U.K., the Commonwealth, the EU, whilstBrexit is so precarious, and the world too. I cannot fathom how HMTQ is feeling and how and when to proceed!

“ don’t take this personally”

So who is not to take this personally? This clue mystifies me. My head is so full, is this relating to BOJO non-apology, in that he regrets what happened with Parliament? That HMTQ being tricked, she shouldn’t take that personally because he was trying to get his own agenda through, the Courts over-ruled him. Of course she is going to take this personally! She needs to be able to trust the PM! BOJO , according to the paper, if there is a noncon vote and he is ousted as PM, he will refuse to leave No. 10 unless in handcuffs. So, yes, BOJO HMTQ is taking it bloody personally!

“ you have TWO choices”…

Two choices, go quietly or a fight will ensue. l remember professionally saying this many times. Cooperate or things will be enforced. In this case confess, plead guilty or not guilty. Is arrest imminent, are these two choices?? Oh please , make it so, to quote Captain Jean-Luc Picard! Are the choices, leave the U.K. of face charges. I can’t see that totally but then again a lot of money laundering trials have brought down mob bosses.That song should l stay or should l go now? Is blaring through my head!!

“ get your bloody head out the sand”

Whose got their head in the sand on this? This is definitely PP, might he be taking a stern tone with HMTQ? Action needs to be taken imminently, the press are on the precipice of unloading a ton of very very bad things. It would be easier, although none of this will be easier, but it would be easier if HMTQ gave a public video, like Christmas Day, and as she did with Diana. If they can publicly get ahead of the media, might soften the blow. Perhaps announce a separation, then the press can go hog wild. Either way it’s going to be Annus Horibilus on steroids!!!

“it’s crumbling around your feet”…

The love and loyalty towards Harry is doing exactly that, crumbling around him. If things continue and madam resumes appearances in the U.K. or joint appearances , PARDON THE PUN🤣🤣🤣😂 joint🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 sorry, l need a laugh, this is a tough riddle and the second one of the day!the reception will be vile, also possibly dangerous, such is the loathing at this point. This is having an effect on the entire BRF . The continuing question, why doesn’t HMTQ do something. Thank God for the Cambridges.

“ baby ‘ what baby?��

Oh are we going to play ignorant know?use those fabulous acting skills. I never had a baby, never was pregnant what are you talking about all innocent? Whose baby was that in SA? His or her photo will go down in history as being passed off as a royal baby.This could also be read, as to a lover, baby( name for lover), what baby? Many many people knew it was a fake pregnancy, surrogate used but whose egg and whose male DNA was used? Was it done in SA. Or was that a rent-a-baby? This is all so seedy makes my skin crawl with disgust!

“we’re gonna need a bigger Bank”

Again with the Jaws reference🤨. MM ANON DO I GET A TREAT FIR WORKING OVERTIME DIING TWO RIDDLES IN ONE DAY?🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂😂This hacking lawsuit is going to cost tens of millions, however it may well possibly reveal the identities, the length of time, what they did with the information they gathered,and was it a bad actor or actors who did this. Now when l use the term bad actor, it has nothing to do with movies or tv. A bad actor has become the term used when talking about individuals who betray their country, spy, commit crimes etc, it cal also be a foreign national also. . Has that decision been rescinded, just to pay her off, she can leave go back to U.S. I don’t know, there are alleged crimes, the British people and Commonwealth who haven’t taken the time to look below for the facts still loathe her. How this will all play out without totally destroying the Monarchy l do not know.

As far as paying madam to go, there was a one time deal offered before the wedding, it was allegedly accepted but changed her mind and went ahead with the unhappy day. Is there a chance they have decided to offer again just to leave, the legal case she filed is her problem. Any potential legal problems, or illegal acts that may have been committed and money owed on taxes, all her problem. I can hardly think after all this they would cave in, I HOPE NOT!

… 🎼” if I was a rich man”🎼

I have been singing since l saw this clue. This is from the musical Fiddler on The Roof! The entire song, sang and performed by a poor beggar man living on the slums but he had a fiddle AKA a violin. The whole entirety of the lyrics are him imagining being a man of fantastic wealth and the houses he would build, the life he would live, endless time to do whatever you want, buy whatever you want, just completely unencumbered. This is how many see the royals. Harry especially has taken unbelievable backlash for his spouses extravagant clothes spending, repeated use of private jet, the perception of being preached at regarding climate change . The last straw for the media was that blasting furiously letter , that accompanied the information that he had filed in court, directed at the media after what had by and part, in comparison with the other behaviour was a positively reported visit to various countries in Africa! The last snap though, was his perceived treatment of Rhiannon Mills of Sky News when he scolded her, as some saw things, watch the video, decide for yourself!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

October 7,2019 1850 hrs

Great job PG! Wow! If I could, one scenario has been they let MM go, and she is taken care of back in the US….so that might be the reference to two choices…she will NOT walk…she will face justice..in UK or in US! Thank you for doing these riddles today! So appreciated!😊💜💜💜💜💜💜

gstqaobc

It could be any, l am exhausted after two riddles, the last one being extremely difficult in how to word things without opening oneself up to legal issues and to not offend etc etc etc. As for Fiddler on the Roof, l deliberately not bring up his ethnicity because sometimes people do not like that, l bend over backwards, metaphorically, TO NOT UPSET ANYONE or be perceived as judgemental etc. My brain 🧠 is tired, my words aren’t flowing right. GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦 I do my best, give my all, we all work together. 💜💜🐼🙏🏻🙏🏻🐼💜💜 Thank you 🐼 for creating this wonderful place💜💜💜🐼🙏🏻🙏🏻🐼💜💜🐼😊😊🐼👋🐼💜

Source: skippyv20

——————

80: oct 9

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

MM Anon

skippyv20

MM ANON … fab two ‘ future Queen……future king …… also rans …… three weddings and a refusal …… Archie-bargy …… a dog with no name …… silent screaming past…… 🎼” there may be trouble ahead “🎼…… “ if I tell you ‘ I’d have to…… “…… everyone is scarfing …… (another private flight)…… Branson island … Mail on payday… … “ please boo the buggers”

October 9/2019 0105 hrs CST

SORRY l am so late, l had a rest day😊💜

fab two ‘ future Queen

Well who on earth could this possibly be referencing 🤣🤣🤣? Of course it is our beloved Cambridge’s, Their HRH Duke and Duchess! Who needs a Fab Four, when we have the FAB TWO? They are brilliant. The Royal tour to Pakistan (unless something happened whilst l slept the day away, haven’t read the news) will be a Master Class in how a Royal, representing HMTQ, conducts oneself. Catherine, HRH The Duchess of Cambridge has fully come into her own, in this role and it’s been marvellous to watch her bloom. I think some of us kind of took her for granted until we saw the horrors of the other one. She will make a brilliant Queen Consort, once the time comes.

future king

This could be referencing Prince Charles, Prince William or Prince George. Are we not blessed to live in a time with three future kings? Amazing! Given the pending Royal tour representing HMTQ in Pakistan 🇵🇰, l believe this is referencing HRH Prince William. He too, has come into his own, fabulous, loving supportive wife, they have a beautiful healthy family. Their minds are sound and are raising well rounded children. We will se William, on this tour, conducting himself above reproach, and can envision him well in his penultimate role as His Majesty, when the time comes.

also rans

Let’s head to our favourite friend google for a few definitions, a loser in a race or other contest, especially by a large margin, OR, PAY ATTENTION KIDS😁an undistinguished or unsuccessful person or thing. Now let’s just skip past the first one and jump on the second definition. Undistinguished person, BOJO fits, only because he manipulated HMTQ, but we’re not political. I know without a lot of explaining or elaboration because you have all been passengers on the Skipoy🐼 train, you know of many undistinguished deeds that are public, just you wait Henry Higgins, just you wait, sorry l jumped into a My Fair Lady song 🤣🤣😂😂, can’t help myself!

three weddings and a refusal

Three wedding and a Funeral, the write of that film, Richard Curtis, is working with Catherine on a mental health campaign, l can’t recall what it’s called just now. Anyhow this is three weddings and a refusal. William and Catherine, Harry and her, Eugene’s and Jack, whose the refusal? Are we referencing CD? She goes way back, but …..but…..but…… l am saying no more!

Archie-bargy

Is this boss Prince Louis’ name for Archie or the other Cambridge children? We know twitter calls a baby bubs 🤮🤮Or is it LG? Not joking at all about a real child but at the persona created for this infamous fauxmegnancy, fauxmegbirth, fauxmegworld, etc etc etc etc.

a dog with no name

I know , my friend, rescued greyhounds from the racetracks in America where they were , can’t say it, but used and abused, and brought them to Canada. This is a well known animal/humanitarian organization that rescues a variety of animals. The title literally, it means they want no dog to not have a name. When an animal has a name, it gives them meaning, they’re smart they know what their name is and respond to it, maybe not always the way we want🤣🤣😂😂, but they do? So who is the dog with no name in the human form , is it the victims of JE? The ones that have come forth have a name. I know there has to be many more, unnamed to us at this time. Or worse will never be known. When you see and hear VRG speak and tell of her experience it adds the real humanity factor, it takes it from words on paper or hidden abstract to literal, in your face truth! I pray for all the victims of human trafficking known and unknown 🙏🏻.

silent screaming past

Does anyone recall the documentary The Silent Scream? I most certainly do, its about abortion. I wonder who this might be about? I have long suspected there might have been several of those in the past of someone.

🎼” there may be trouble ahead “🎼

But music and dancing, MY ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE PAUR , THANK YOU MM ANON FOR THIS CLUE. Memories, Fred Estaire singing this, dancing with the unbelievablly gorgeous Ginger Rogers. Fred used to say, or was it Ginger, no, matter, he was talented, but she was amazing because she had to do everything backwards and in heels🤣🤣😂😂.Now interpretation, let’s face the music, it means face your reward but more often it’s face your punishment and own up to what you have done wrong. Here we have it, PA, it’s time for him to not dance but face the music. Sounding like an order from up top has been given, he must comply with authorities, be interviewed, be truthful! Face the music!

“ if I tell you ‘ I’d have to…… “

This is an old saying, does anyone remember the spoof spy show Get Smart? Hilarious, l grew up watching that, about spy who goofed up, had a phone in the sole of his shoe?🤣🤣😂😂 Anyone, the saying is, if l tell you, I will have to kill you. My oh my oh my, what secrets are held, l certainly wouldn’t want to be in this position! But who is!

everyone is scarfing

William adjusting his scarf to avoid interacting with madam, has taken on a life of its own online🤣🤣🤣😂😂. We know, the entire BRF, to the public, is scarfing, the Harry, and her, l believe 100% behind the scenes, there is plenty of love and support for Harry to get through this horror!

(another private flight)

Have they taken another private flight? And to where? Necker Island?? Or points beyond? I think they any public appearance in the U.K. now would be disastrous especially for a narcissist. I wonder how Prince Harry’s appearances on the 10th for International Mental Health Day will go? I do so hope that he is well received 🙏🏻🙏🏻.

Branson island

Sir Kenneth Branson owns his own island as well in the Caribbean, he calls it Necker Island. Do you recall the horrible fire that occurred there a few years back? Kate Winslett, the actress literally went in and rescued either his mum or grandmother. No matter, this island has been a getaway for many celebrities and royals for years. Is there a connection with JE and his island?

Mail on payday

Ha ha, when the storms blows in, they will get a massive payday, of that l am certain. In public opinion, the DM comments are full of loathing and anger, they sometimes have comments that things are not appearing ie comments or they vanish. When the story(or stories, truth) are published ad revenues and sales will skyrocket!!

“ please boo the buggers”

PP voicing his approval for this to happen when a certain couple or individual appears in an official capacity or not, just do as he said!!! Now that would be above Camilla’s video begging help! Help! 🙃🤣🤣🤣

Submitted October 9/2019 0204 hrs CST

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you dear PG! This again looks interesting…oh what fun lies ahead! Thank you, much appreciated!😊💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

—————-

81: Oct. 9

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

October 9/2019 1500 hrs CST

MM Anon

MM ANON …… “ sorry, not today thank you “…… never EVER explain …… “what happens in house, stays in-house”. ……a special briefing …… another cover-up?…… … glowing anticipation …… special forces …… “unprecedented care”…… a very tired PR …… public appearance nerves …… “we’ll pay you handsomely”…… “she’ll do it or suffer the consequences”

“ sorry, not today thank you “

Jeremy Corbyn, Labour leader, has said today, that the Queen should appoint him as PM if BOJO loses a non-confidence vote. Firstly HMTQ does not appoint leaders, they are elected by the public. So sorry, Mr. Corbyn, not today, thank you.

never EVER explain

Since the Queen mum was Queen, it has been the motto of the way the Royal family has dealt with any rumours or gossip about themselves or their work. Never complain, never explain. This has an extra ever, all caps. So MM ANON is telling us , when this happen, as things unfold legally or with the marriage, there will be a considerable amount of things that will not ever EVER be explained to us. We must prepare for that. They have been playing this game a long time and are champions, the Crown never loses. So we ask ourselves how will things come out, what will happen to madam or Archie, lots of things will remain classified, this is a big thump warning us!

“what happens in house, stays in-house”.

The saying what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. In other words, confidentiality and discretion are key. So whatever may be observed or noted by staff they cannot talk about outside of the house they work in, be it KP, BP, Windsor Castle etc etc. I think LG is running a tight ship, we are nearing the destination of an endpoint in this masquerade and he wants no leaks out , no warning at all of their plans, lest their attackers use that information. Perhaps in reference to Richard Palmer?

a special briefing

Did the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge receive a special briefing regarding their upcoming Royal tour? It would be very important that they be aware of exactly everything that is planned, possible changes and security issues.

another cover-up?

What on earth could this be referencing? Is this related to PA and his connection with JE? There are some conflicting facts that l have read in different articles. The latest l read, was that New York visit, when he was at JE mansion, the purpose of that visit was to end his friendship due to JE arrests and crimes/pedophelia in Florida. Now one would think a simple phone call would suffice. At the time this first arose he denied having been intimate with VRG, the Palace statement reflected that, Met case closed. Many people feel that was washed away. Now it’s come back, he is still denying having been intimate, VRG is sticking firm with her story. And then there is that pesky photograph!!! Is there something else being cleverly hidden? I surely hope not and for HMTQ sake, l wish PA would do the right thing and cooperate. He will drag his feet l am sure, he’s done so thus far.

glowing anticipation

They say women who are pregnant have a special glow about them. Are we anticipating an announcement?? Who could it be? Princess Eugenie, to me, is the most likely candidate. That would be simply marvellous news!

special forces

Is this related to the Pakistan 🇵🇰 Royal tour? I very well think it might be, the security risk is high, we have high ranking royals, and ongoing assessment, along with tightly kept destinations and places they will visit. Safety first!

“unprecedented care”

Is this medical/emotional care for Harry after returning from Africa? Is that the type of care meant here? Or is there unprecedented care and concern expressed for HMTQ and PP through this incredibly stressful time, adding Her Speech to the House this Monday, October 14/2019. Or more concerning yet is this regarding HMTQ or PP health? I think ultimately this means, the Pakistan 🇵🇰 tour, they are undertaking their most complex tour, as per statement on the tour stated, and security and their staff are taking unprecedented care and implementing measures to ensure safety, security and a very successful Royal tour and relationship building.

a very tired PR

I am sure the Palace PR staff are beyond exhausted as madams numerous PR firms are at it, and being well paid. Tired can also mean blah, sedate, uninteresting, repetitive, and that’s what her PR is, the same fantastical stories, fabricated and dull.

public appearance nerves …

Harry will make his first official day of events tomorrow, to recognize October 10/2019 International Mental Health Day. I imagine he is a bundle of nerves given all that has happened on and since his last day in Africa. Not scheduled but l wonder if madam will gatecrash or attempt to.

“we’ll pay you handsomely”

Are they purchasing a video, l thought certain they already had it. Perhaps there is more information from past or lost years on offer, l am certain there would be no doubt if it was authentic and verifiable it would be purchased. Usually when the term pay you handsomely is used, it’s kind of like someone keeps your secret or in tv/film, it’s a private detective digging up dirt and gets rewarded handsomely for his work. MM ANON, l would love to know where some of these clues come from,,they can go many ways and some l can’t figure out!!

“she’ll do it or suffer the consequences”

They need madam to do something or appear at some royal event, but she’s terrified of the crowd, if there is a crowd, of whomever is there, what their response will be. There is to be no discussion, she must do this! I just wish l had a clue what ‘this’ was!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Submitted October 9/2019 1605 hrs CST

Thank you dear PG! Things are sure getting interesting. Again…in awe of your riddle skills! So appreciated😊💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

Oct 9th, 2019

—————-

82: Oct. 10

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PLEASE PRAY I HAVE NO MORE POWER OUTAGES!

It’s Thanksgiving weekend, we have a massive snowstorm that is supposed to go until Saturday 🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

MM Anon

MM ANON ……corespondents under the radar …… “MA to MM”…… 🎼” gimme a ticket for an aeroplane”🎼…… “ my baby wrote me a letter” “ I’ve seen the contents of several”…… ‘ thank you LG.”…… “were in need of another f#@ing hole”…… Sheeran a common problem ……” drag her along ‘ your joking”… not seen’ not heard, GOOD!!!!…… Christmas 🧣 scarfs …… 🎼Back in the USA”🎼…… “friends thou hast and their adoption tried ”…(very trying!!!)

October 10/2019

1430 hrs CST

corespondents under the radar

Oh dear oh my, madam, and creepy eyes guy have kept in touch. I can only imagine the level of filth, schemings and depravity in those conversations, emails, snail mails, after all she is a calligrapher, roll eyes now. Well this is very interesting!

“MA to MM”

Hmmmm sound abbreviated, oh they’re so clever those kids, surely no one would recognize those initials and connect them back to those two!! I truly wonder what he has been up to, was he the last guest at Misha NoNoo wedding who arrived in big car, huge hat and coat, immediately surrounded by guards protecting him. Where has he been? Good gracious l have a zillion questions needing answered!!

🎼” gimme a ticket for an aeroplane”🎼

Old song, l know the song, looked on google for the performer, never heard before but they are called the Box Tops. The lyrics are all about someone desperately longing to be with their baby again, because a letter was received. l think baby is lover, not a baby baby🤣🤣. I think she’s begging him to send her a ticket to leave London !! Anyway anyhow before next week!! To avoid that public appearance? Running scare are we Rachel?

“ my baby wrote me a letter” “ I’ve seen the contents of several”

It’s lyrics from the same song as previous clue . Letters, plural, the plot thickens. I shall, out of respect for LG, assume that all of their contacts and interactions in every way shape or form, have been well monitored and documented. LG, were l wearing a 🎩 hat, l would take it off to you sir! You played her brilliantly!!

‘ thank you LG.”

Just what l was thinking and just typed. I am sure many have been thanking him, he has played the long game and has won. The timer isn’t out yet, but there is no way for her to win. I think this may be HMTQ speaking to LG. He has returned to serve HMTQ, serving her until the end!

“were in need of another f#@ing hole”

Oh dear, oh dear, how much more horrible trash about madam are they having to bury because it’s so extreme? I know there is so much that will need to be kept classified , buried if you like, for the BRF to recover. What on earth is all going on? There is so much unknown and the British people, all of us who care, are at the end.

Sheeran a common problem

Ed Sheehan, who has massive problems with his neighbors and his building things, that’s a whole other topic. Ed Sheehan , the musician, did a clever bit of humour, GINGERS UNITE🤣🤣😂😂. But in all seriousness, today is International Mental Health Day, Sheehan is a play on the word sharing a common problem. They both have experienced times of depression and feel the strong need to destigmatize it. Whilst here it’s a massive winter storm, as l type this, my power has been out for a good hour, good thing l saved the riddle and charged the iPad. BUT I AM FREEZING 🥶!

I just called the power, they said so many outages they have no idea when it will return😩😩😫😫😖😖I AM 🥶 COLD!!!

” drag her along ‘ your joking”

Prince Harry and madam are due to attend the Well Child benefit October 15/2019. I assume madam has zero or less than zero, great film by the way, l digress, interest in doing anything remotely public for fear of what could happen. Booing, throwing rotten tomatoes? This was referred to in yesterday’s riddle. Harry has been told to drag her along if she refuses to go. He is being given firm order on what he is to do. In no way, shape or form, will she be allowed to NOT attend!

not seen’ not heard, GOOD!!!!

There is an old saying, children should be seen and not heard. With madam, who doesn’t posses a gram of maternal instinct, this is her delight, she can do whatever she wants, a doll can be ignored. However l truly believe this is how the British people and people around the Commonwealth and the world are elated not to see or hear her word salad speeches. Hence the all caps, exclamation marks GOOD!!!

Christmas 🧣 scarfs

I wonder if this is going to be a gag gift, l know it has taken a life of its own online! This truly, l believe means, if madam is still around at Christmas, she will be “scarfed” from any Royal family Christmas dinners etc. A general, familywide scarfing, the ultimate! 🧣

🎼Back in the USA”🎼

Old song, classic Chuck Berry, fabulous when no computers for instruments, guitars were needed. This song is entirely about someone returning home to America, describing the sites and sounds of various places. Madam is deeply homesick and wants to go home. Yet she wants a massive celebrity life and fame. She has become infamous, history will tell of this. I think l have said this before but she may just end up in a massive, massive very expensive fully staffed home. However, the home may have locks but she gets no key to it!

“friends thou hast and their adoption tried ”

Shakespeare again MM ANON , again to my favourite , Hamlet. I will share the entire piece.

“Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,

Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;

But do not dull thy palm with entertainment

Of each new-hatch’d, unfledg’d comrade.”

Loyal friends, keep them as close as you can. Hold onto them, deeply in your very soul. This can be healthy or a very sick relationship. This is mm and ma, they are interwoven in each other, evil purpose, money, lust, filth, disgust. The hoops of steel MM ANON has challenged us with this before. My, my, my , are these two, who have been bound by this sick relationship going to be bound by hoops of steel aka handcuffs at the end of the day?? Oh l hope so. I want all this filth gone!! Banished!

(very trying!!!)

INDEED, DISGUSTINGLY SO!!!

October 10/2019 1700 hrs CST

SORRY SO LATE WE HAD A TWO HOUR POWER OUTAGE!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you dear PG….so sorry about the power outage….the west suffer through these often…….Then again so does the east! The joys of Canada fall/winter. I’m just sorry you are so cold. We too have snow. This riddle is now tying the connection to MA and MM….as is our new Anon…Emails, sexting, and videos. So, we can expect more on the pair! Thank you dear PG, I know it’s been a battle for you today, so much appreciated!🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

————-

26 notes · View notes

therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

🎾 Reaching Out (Tenipuri) #1: The Twins

Genre: Friendship, Family, Comedy, Fluff ☁

Word Count: 1,887 ☁

Pairing: OC x ?? ☁

World: Prince of Tennis ☁

Author’s Note: This was written a long time ago and remains as one of my favorite pieces to date. I don’t know if I’ll be completing this series, but I’m still proud of it and want to post what I’ve already written.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Rojo Kira followed the pathway toward the tennis courts in Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku, the ponk of the balls growing louder with every step she took. School had ended a while ago, leaving only the after school clubs behind. More specifically, the famed tennis club that the junior high students seemed to go nuts over. The high school division had a tennis team, as well, but they didn’t have as much fame as the middle schoolers’ team got. The reason for that was simple. While the middle school did have other sports, tennis was their main one. It was a big deal though, with all the trophies they’ve won, I guess you could see why.

The high school, however, offered more sports, evenly spreading out the student body to cheer for each one equally; not one was more important than the other. Kira wasn’t too sure why it worked out that way, but she summed it up to the fact that high schoolers are more angsty, and need more choices at outlets they can use to vent their frustrations. Middle school was difficult, but nothing compared to high school. It made Kira glad that this was her last year.

One thing Kira had noticed about the fans at Rikkai, was that they were not at all as crazy as everyone believed. Sure, there were a few delusional nut jobs that believed they could win the love of their beloved regular-sama, but most of the kids who cheered and supported Rikkai were doing it because they loved the team and wanted them to win. At Rikkaidai, it was all about rising together as one to annihilate the enemy. It was as simple as that.

Still, Kira thought it a bit stupid to give the regulars so much popularity just because, well, they were regulars. It’s completely pointless, but her opinion didn’t really matter in this case. She did not attend school with them so she couldn’t voice what she thought. And she thanked Kami-sama that she would never have to share a school with them because when they graduate to high school, she’ll be graduating to life.

Kira’s eyes scanned the crowd around and on the tennis courts, searching for a mess of fire-engine red hair that belonged to her younger brother, who was in his second year of middle school. He often stayed behind after school to watch tennis practice, even though he wasn’t part of the team OR the cheering squad. He simply enjoyed watching it. That’s not to say that he didn’t play, but it was on a more hobby basis; it was something he did when he was bored or needed something to pass the time. Really, the Rojo family wasn’t a very sporty family. They loved to watch, but playing one was just too much effort that could be spent sleeping or just lazing around. At least, that’s how the Rojo children are. They can’t be bothered to do anything unless they want to or are ultimately forced into it.

Kira walked up behind her brother, who stood at four ten, and set a hand on his hair, which had recently been dyed. The boy was originally a blonde, but because he wanted to try something different, he somehow managed to convince his mother to let him dye it when he started his second year. Finally, she caved and gave in to his begging – probably just to get him to shut up. It stood out glaringly against his personality. But he had been set on the idea of going with red since the day his big sister came home with blood-red highlights.

Rojo Kaizen looked up at his big sister, his usual bored-calm expression in place. “You’re early, sis.”

“Did you forget? We have to go pick up Kaoru since Ryuuka can’t do it.” She ruffled his already messy hair lightly. “You said you wanted to visit Seigaku again, right? If not, you can walk home with one of the regulars. You said before a couple of them live near us, right?”

“Kirihara-kun does. And I don’t think Sanada-san is too far away, either. But yes, I would like to visit Seigaku. I want to see Eiji-kun again.”

Kira didn’t want to imagine how bouncy and loud the cat-like third year would be when he saw that Kaizen’s hair was about the same shade as his own. She pushed the image away from her mind as she readjusted her bag on her shoulder, leading her brother to the gates. Ryuuka-san, Kira’s stepmother and the twins’ birth mother, was usually the one who went and picked up Kaizen’s twin, who attended Seishun Gakuen in Tokyo, but since she was busy, it was Kira’s job to get him instead. It had been a while since the two had visited Seigaku, so it was questionable how the regulars would react to the pair. Maybe they could slip in and out without being noticed? The pessimistic side of her brain told her not to count on it.

About fifty-five minutes or so later, the pair found themselves entering Seigaku’s gate. No student was in sight, but the sound of tennis balls being hit told them what direction to go in. Like his younger twin, Kaoru liked to watch tennis matches, but he wasn’t on the team himself. He had been asked several times by Seigaku’s team, but he declined each time. He had his sights set on the baseball club, but he had yet to make an effort to join. The twins were a lot alike, especially in looks – the only way you can tell them apart now is by the color of their hair-, and their personalities only differ slightly.

Kaizen was… well, bland for lack of a better word. He always bore the same bored-calm expression, never changing it no matter what situation he was in. He drawled when he talked, always taking on a bored tone. His voice stayed the same pitch, no matter what the situation – the only exception to that is when he’s crying, which isn’t very often. His hair, now an almost blinding red, was short, but his bangs were long, often hanging in his liquid silver eyes, which he had inherited from his mother. Because of this, he often keeps them pinned to the side and out of the way with bobby pins.

Kaoru was quiet. While he often shared the same expression as his brother, it did change. He wasn’t as rude as his younger twin, and was very kind to other people, especially where their feelings were concerned. He was more social, as well, and people seemed to be attracted to him like magnets, even though he doesn’t go out of his way to make bonds with people. He’s a lot more responsible and mature, though he tends to take on too much, and never can stand up and say it for worry that he’ll let someone down. His hair was still the same blonde color that he had been born with, the same length as his brothers, but parted to the side instead of pinned back.

Rojo Kaoru’s eyes shifted to the pair when they approached and he stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder with a small smile. “Hello, bro, sis.”

“How was school?” Kira asked softly, pushing away a few strands of hair that had fallen out of place. Kaoru was also the weaker of the twins, despite being older. He got sick easily and spent most of his childhood in and out of the hospital. She believed that was the reason behind Kaizen’s distant nature; he had been really scared that he was going to lose his brother.

“It was good. Ryoma-kun nearly got trampled today by fangirls, but thanks to Momo-chan’s quick reflexes, and Inui-senpai’s threats, the fan club retreated back to their respective classes.”

“You’ve never taken anything from that guy, have you?” Kaizen questioned blankly, his bored gaze set on the elder twin.

He quickly shook his head, causing more strands of his blonde hair to cover his eyes, which he brushed away before speaking. “Iie. Oishi-senpai and Tezuka-buchou forbade Inui-senpai from offering his juice to anyone outside the tennis club.”

“I still don’t trust him. You should have a talk with him, Kira-nee-chan.”

“I agree.”

Kaoru’s cheeks tinted pink at the overprotective nature of his siblings, but he couldn’t help the smile that broke onto his lips. “You don’t have to worry, I’ll be fine, really.”

The pair exchanged a look, but before they could say anything else, a loud ‘Hoi! Look, Echizen!’ caught their attention before Kaizen was engulfed by a red blur. He now lay sprawled on the ground with Kikumaru on top of him, arms tight around his neck and cheek rubbing against his own. “Long time no see, Zen-chan!”

“You’re heavy,” he managed out in a bored voice, despite the fact that the wind had been knocked out of him.

“Eiji!” Oishi came rushing over, a panicked look on his face as he ushered the third year off. “Are you okay, Kaizen-kun?”

The red-head nodded, accepting the offered hand.

“You don’t do that to Kaoru too, do you?” Kira questioned, glancing at the boy beside her who had paused in dusting his uniform off. He wanted to know the answer, as well.

“He tries,” Oishi shook his head with a sigh, one hand on his hip. He really was the mother hen of the team. “But Kaoru-kun’s reflexes are pretty impressive. He usually misses and lands on Echizen…”

The elder Rojo locked eyes with the blonde as if to confirm the tale and he promptly nodded, letting her know that it was okay. Even though Kaoru had been with these guys for a year already, she wasn’t ready to trust them just yet, not with her fragile baby brother. And she knew Kaizen felt the same way.

Kikumaru edged his way closer to the blonde, poking his side with a wide grin.

Kaoru took the hint and turned to his big sister, his hands twisting the strap of his bag, a sure sign that he was nervous. “Um… nee-chan?”

“Hmm?”

“Well, Seigaku has a tournament coming up – ”

“The regional tournament!” Momo added in, excitedly.

“ – And I was wondering if, maybe, I could go?”

Kira and Kaizen exchanged another look. “When is it?”

“In a couple of days,” Oishi responded, offering them a small smile. “If you agree, we promise to look after your brother.”

“What do you think?” Kira asked the red-headed twin, who simply shrugged in reply.

“Your call.”

Kira adapted a blank look as she surveyed the blonde. She could tell with one look that he really wanted to go, but he wouldn’t argue if she told him no – that was Kaizen’s job, not his. “Alright. But we’ll be going, as well.”

“Thank you, nee-chan!” Kaoru smiled greatly, wrapping his thin arms around her waist. She returned the hug, patting the top of his head.

“Well, if you’ll excuse us. Ryuuka-san is probably waiting for us by now.” Kira nodded to the group before turning and heading toward the entrance – or in this case, the exit. Kaizen said nothing, turning around to follow the older Rojo, while Kaoru bid his goodbyes before running after the pair.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

▸Next

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

1 note · View note

fenrys-moonbae · 5 years

Text

A Bright Star in Centuries of Darkness--Chapter 1

Eleanor Ashryver, noble lady and Princess of Wendlyn, swore viciously as she looked over at Evalin and hissed "...Is he....singing?"

"I believe so, cousin." Evalin tried and failed to hide the smile spreading across her face, her eyes flicking over to the open window where a lovely tune waltzed, "it seems you've got yourself a tom cat yowling at your window."

Bloody gods.

----

A take on the story of Aedion's mother and Gavriel's meeting, relationship and eventual parting. Pre-Throne of Glass but follows all established canon points. Rating due to future sex scenes and some coarse language.

Hi All! This is a little short side project I decided to work on since I recently re-read Kingdom of Ash. Not much information is given on Aedion's mother in the canon or on what her relationship with Evalin and Rhoe was so I took creative liberty and established one.

The waulking song used for this chapter is located here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NRcXCdwfM9k

Enjoy!

----

Shafts of warm sunlight slipped through the high arches of the servants’ quarters of the palace in Varese as they worked, swathing the room in a buttery golden hue. The sparkling rays danced across the fibers of the wool as it thumped rhythmically across the table, setting the threads shimmering like emeralds.

Each press of the freshly dyed fabric against the wood thrummed through the sun-warmed hall as it was passed from hand to hand, tugging and stretching. Beautiful, lithe voices raised in unison in time with its cadence.

He mo leannan,

Hó mo leannan,

‘S e mo leannan a’ fear ùr—

An old fae ditty, reserved for waulking--- and one of Princess Eleanor Ashryver’s favorite tunes to sing during one of her most beloved pastimes. She’d routinely sneak away from palace duties to participate in it, spending her time singing and sitting thigh to thigh and elbow to elbow with the servants, her friends, kneading and stretching the bolt.

With a twist of her hands, she worked the fabric beneath her palms, feet tapping in time as her voice rose and fell along, her nail beds already saturated with deep emerald. The wool in her hands was freshly woven cashmere soaked in Terrasen green, crafted specifically for its future princess, Evalin Ashryver, soon to be Galathynius.

The lovely lady whose intellect and grace could crack even the hardest of foes, who was renowned for carrying a presence of wisdom and strength.

That was, if you didn’t know of the bashful creature she could become behind closed doors, the bright flush that overtook her pale skin when flustered or the rare but clever curses that could slip through her delicate lips when no one was listening.

It was those parts of her cousin that Eleanor knew and loved the best, the parts she knew that Evalin’s future husband would grow to love as well. That was, if they could get the blushing bride to walk down the aisle without her turning the shade of a tomato or spluttering like a broken spigot.

Fortunately, the event was still months off.

Enough time for dear Evalin to pull herself together enough that she might string coherent sentences together before being bound to her handsome and daring Prince Rhoe, heir of Terrasen’s great throne.

Eleanor couldn’t help but grin, the lovesick expression of her cousin’s fair face still dancing through her mind.

She’d never let Evalin hear the end of it.

Not that the young prince had responded much better according to the gossip that flitted through the palace in the wake of her return. Apparently, King Orlon had had a jolly time teasing the lovebirds throughout Evalin’s stay and had laughed quite loudly and openly at his brother’s attempt at courtship upon the princess’s departure.

Two birds of a feather then, destined to rule a bright and glorious kingdom.

She could not find room for more joy in her heart at the prospect.

Even if part of her panged at the emptiness that would follow her cousin’s nuptials and inevitable departure. While born a princess, Eleanor’s right was only in name, not poised to inherit any power or lands, and her future had always been somehow . . . flat and vague.

And without Evalin’s constant presence and companionship…

She gripped the fabric tightly as the next length was passed to her, her mind willing the worm of sorrow away.

Now wasn’t the time for such idle thoughts. Even if the prospect had chased sleep from her in the previous weeks, leaving her mind to wander in the darkness of her chambers.

Even if Evalin had looked prime to invite her to go with her, to whisk her off to Terrasen so that they would never be apart . . .

She banished the thought.

No, she could not go. Wendlyn was her home and where she would stay. Even if her dearest cousin was to set sail for foreign lands.

Close in age, she and Evalin had been hand in hand since they were children, nearly identical in appearance and thick as thieves and twice as mischievous.

The palace staff had bemoaned their more . . . adventurous endeavors. Even as encroaching adulthood had slowly stripped them of the freedom they’d relished in their youth, they’d still found ways to entertain themselves and stir up trouble in the way that only two young princesses might.

Old Nan had still yet to forgive them for stealing Lord Edgar’s wig six summers before, their teenage curiosity getting the better of them. They’d merely wondered if the rumors of it being made of cat hair were true.

The rumors, much to her and Evalin’s eternal disappointment, had been false.

Lord Edgar’s fit of rage and spewing had not been, however, the lord having fled the castle in such a rage that he’d forgotten to dress himself properly and had loaded himself into his carriage in only his underthings.

He’d yet to visit the palace again much to her cousin, the crowned King Glaston’s, annoyance.

Eleanor had remained unruffled when confronted, justifying that the man was insufferable anyway, hardly fit for life as a human much less as a lord. Evalin, ever the pacifist, had supported her claim, albeit in far fewer, much less damning words.

They’d been sent to drudgery duty as punishment: Evalin to the kitchens and Eleanor to seamstresses, in hopes that separating the girls might dampen their exploits. Much to everyone’s disappointment, Eleanor had discovered a love of weaving and now made a habit of sneaking off to join the servants. Evalin, for her part, had taken an interest in the culture of the demi-fae staff she worked with, going so far as to visit a small demi-fae village called Mistward to better understand their plight.

The same place where Evalin returned from now, due back any moment.

Far too close to the border of Doranelle and that heinous Fae-Queen Maeve, Eleanor thought with irritation. Maeve’s unexpected fascination with Evalin had left everyone in the Ashryver estate unsettled, the ancient queen’s wickedness preceding her.

The sooner Evalin was home, the better.

Waving her hands, Eleanor flicked the excess bits of dye and diluted urine from her fingers before gripping the fabric taut again, brushing her leg against the woman next to her.

The tune they were singing came to a slow end, fading on both her tongue and those of the women around her. Shifting her gaze, her eyes landed on one of the younger servant girls at the end of the row who quickly selected another, slapping the fabric in time, and began to sing jovially, her broad smile contagious.

Eleanor almost snorted at the song the girl had selected, sung in the common tongue--a tale of a handsome fae lord who had come to town to woo the prettiest lady and sweep her away off to his fine kingdom.

Oh, he comes o’er hill and dale,

Sword strapped right,

Bonny and bright,

Come to bid his tale--

Gods help any woman foolish enough to run off with one of the fae males, she thought harshly, With their immortality and brute strength . . . even if they aren’t difficult on the eyes. Not that she and Evalin had taken a habit of watching the visiting emissaries ride in, speculating on what was beneath those fine tunics--

Even caught up in the song and her work Eleanor didn’t miss the servant’s door opening or the soft scrape of boots as Evalin peeked her head into the room, her turquoise eyes searching as she scanned the room.

Relief flooded her.

Home and safe.

Tossing up a hand she waved Evalin over, who must have just arrived as she was still clad in her traveling dress, a cloak wrapped about her slender shoulders.

Watching her cousin’s approach, Eleanor immediately noted that her normally slim, proud shoulders were tight and her lovely mouth seemed pinched, even as she smiled sincerely at her. Sensing something amiss, she rose from her seat, leaving her portion of the fabric on the table to be rapidly swept up by surrounding hands.

“Greetings, cousin,” Evalin chimed, reaching out delicate hands to wrap around Eleanor and pull her close, the smell of smoke and the forest wafting from her cloak, “I am so very glad to see you.”

“As am I.” Pushing away, Eleanor looked over Evalin once, furrowing her brow in concern, the formality, the tight posture-- “Eva, is everything all right?”

Evalin’s eyes flickered behind them toward the servents, her pink lips down turning slightly—no, it wasn’t—but this wasn’t the place to discuss it.

Eleanor was about to suggest they go somewhere to talk when Lucielle, an elderly servant whose hair had once been as fiery as her temper, sent a knowing look across the table at the two princesses.

“Your Majesties,” she chimed, slipping away from the waulking table and dipping into a slight curtsey, “if you wouldn’t mind, could you perhaps take the old dye out? It would save an old woman with terrible knees a trip up the stairs.”

“Of course, Lucielle,” relief flooded Evalin’s face, her shoulders loosening, “we’d be happy to help.”

“Oh good, good, such lovely, kind ladies both of you.” The woman waved a withered hand over her shoulder. “There’s only a few bowls that need to go. Pour them in the buckets and dump it off into the grass.”

“Yes, of course,” Eleanor murmured, watching Evalin with an eagle’s gaze, “we’ll go now.”

“Bloody whore,” Eleanor swore as she slammed the buckets of dye and urine down on the battlement, her regal face set in a cool rage. If she ever got her hands on that dark queen--“How dare she address you like that?” “Language, Elle,” Evalin reprimanded, sending a long glance at the guards at the edge of the battlements. Their attention was averted from the princesses as they had been trained, but they still had ears. “And . . . it is what it is. She would listen to none of my pleading.” “Of course not,” Eleanor quipped, her sweet voice harsh as she threw one of the buckets they had carried up the stairs over the battlement walls and onto the grass below, splashing the ground with green dye and the urine used to set it. “How dare anyone call out the illustrious Maeve on her brutal rule.” Evalin had recapped the hardships the demi-fae faced, the scorn they received from both the humans and the fae. A people caught between two races with no home of their own--many of whom spent their lives trying to win the favor of the fae queen only to live their days out in poverty in the small rural villages between the human and fae lands.

“It would be a blessing on this kingdom and the next if she’d rutting keel over,” Evalin paled at the insinuation, even as Eleanor hissed in fury, “Gods above know that royal bit—” “Eleanor,” Evalin warned again, ever the water to Eleanor’s fire, “Ears, cousin. Ears.” “Piss on them,” she shot back, her vision nearly red as she thought on the fae queen. “If she’s so offended by my words then Maeve can come here and address it with me, but Gods know she won’t leave that stone throne or the harem of pretty warriors she collects.”

Evalin cringed as the words flowed past Eleanor’s lips.

But what reaction had she expected when recounting such news? Not only was Evalin the crown princess of Wendlyn and Eleanor’s greatest friend, she carried the bloodline of Mab, which entitled her to more respect that Maeve had ever given.

And going so far as to bargain with Evalin about her firstborn in exchange for the demi-fae’s rights--

“You shouldn’t be going back to Mistward, Eva.” She shook her head, the gall of the queen to try and barter with Evalin’s future child . . . “Stay as far away from the woman as you can.” “They are my friends, Elle,” Evalin murmured, running a hand through her golden locks as she glanced towards the mountains and the village that dwelled deep within, as though she could see all the way to that fortress, “and no one else will stand for them.” “And of your own safety?” She knew Maeve wouldn’t be so foolish as to attack a crown princess, but using magic to coerce-- “That has to be taken into account too.”

“I know, Elle,” she placed a hand on her stomach, as though her thoughts drifted to the life that would one day grow there, to the life that Maeve had so casually predicted. “I know.”

“Foul demon woman,” Eleanor grumbled as she lifted third bucket of dye to dump over the battlements edge, perhaps it was best her cousin was going to Terrasen, if for no other reason to be away from gods damned Maeve, “I hope I never see the likes of her.” “Me either, Elle.” Evalin shook her head, her honey-colored locks catching the light of the fading afternoon sun, before smiling up at Eleanor, finally, a true smile. “Though I am glad to see you. I’ve missed you in our weeks apart.” “Me too Eva, the castle has been too quiet without you.” A laugh. “I thought you’d quiet enjoy your time alone without me tailing after you.” “Well, a bit,” Eleanor conceded, smiling mischievously, “though with word of you and Prince Rhoe’s engagement I haven’t been able to be away from even the mention of you.” A delicate blush rushed up the princess’s cheeks as she averted her gaze from Eleanor.

Better, Eleanor thought as she watched her cousin nervously run her fingers over her cloak, her mind no doubt lost to the prince who awaited her across the sea.

“Let’s celebrate your return tonight and stay together, like we did as children.” Something sparked to life in Evalin’s eyes at that, at the long conversation they would have through the night, the mischief they might get into.

“Yes, let’s.” She rose from where she leaned against the stone and watched Eleanor, her eyes finally full of the mirth and warmth Eleanor was accustomed to.

She mulled on the thoughts of Maeve, of the idle threats she’d made to her dear cousin as she walked over and picked up the final bucket of waste, testing its weight in her hand. “Do you know what I say, Eva?” she inquired, swinging the bucket and sending its contents sloshing all over the stone as she stomped towards the edge of the battlements, the image of the dark-haired queen sharpening in her mind.

Evalin turned her attention back to Eleanor, her mouth opening as though to speak, her hand lifting as though to stop her. “Elle, wait—" She lifted the bucket above her head and smiled ferally. “Piss on Maeve.”

Ignoring her cousin’s warning, she slung the contents of the bucket over the wall with a flick of her arms, willing somewhere, somehow that damned queen also had a bucket of green dye and piss being dumped on her.

A loud splash sounded as the liquid splattered down the stone, followed almost immediately by a soft grunt of surprise.

She froze.

Evalin cringed, even as she couldn’t help the amusement that darted across her face. “You threw it over the wrong side, cousin.” Embarrassment flooded Eleanor as she realized in her fury she’d thrown the waste not onto the grass but onto the street below the battlement, the one that led to the palace gates. Right atop some poor fool strolling up the path at the wrong moment. Blinking in shock, she braved a look down the side of the battlements to see a tall figure below, soaked in the urine and dye she’d tossed over the side, his fine grey cloak stained a blotchy green. He was armed to the teeth, daggers and swords adorning his body, an intricate bow strapped across his back along with a large pack. Someone who had been on the road for a long time. With growing horror, she watched as he pulled his hood free with predatory ease, revealing pointed ears and long blonde locks that were now also tinged green and most certainly smelled like urine.

He turned his head upwards to see where his unexpected shower had come from—

Beautiful, was the only thought that flitted through Eleanor’s mind as she took him in, devastatingly beautiful and undoubtedly fae.

Eleanor couldn’t bring herself to move, the breath rushing out of her as she took in his features, the tawny eyes, the broad shoulders and shapely throat encrusted with black markings—

And hanging loosely atop his tunic was a silver medallion now also dripping in murky green, a medallion in the shape of an owl that indicated the ruling house of Doranelle-- Evalin was now next to her, a hand covering her mouth as she muttered, her eyes wide.

“‘Oh, piss on Maeve indeed.” A hole opened up beneath Eleanor as she blinked, breaking eye contact with the fae male before quickly stumbling away from the battlement’s edge, her bucket tumbling to the ground in front of her.

She’d gotten her wish, no doubt. She’d just soaked one of Maeve’s soldiers in dye and urine.

She slid down the battlement wall and placed her head in her hands, ignoring the stifled chuckles that quickly turned into full belly laughs from Evalin.

Couldn’t she keep her damned mouth shut?

Evalin wasn’t certain Eleanor’s face would ever return to its natural shade as they wound down the staircase back to the bottom floor of the palace. No, she assumed she’d probably stay tinged pink until the darkness claimed her.

She’d tried to warn her that she was dumping the bucket off the wrong side of the wall.

And, as was Eleanor’s style, the rancid mixture had splashed all over one of Doranelle’s soldiers, no doubt from Maeve’s personal guard.

Her stomach had dropped at the sight of him, an uneasiness settling over her with his sudden appearance.

Eleanor had merely muttered “Traitorous Gods” before swiping up the bucket and rushing down the stairs, her skirt swishing as she took them two at a time.

No doubt her brother Glaston would be less than pleased with their cousins’ actions. He’d grown cold since their father’s death and his ascension to the throne--the young man she’d loved so fiercely as a child was now a shell of who he’d once been.

His coldness tended to manifest as criticisms of herself and Eleanor. Mostly wild, free Eleanor. He was going to be furious.

Not that anything could be done to right it now.

“Majesties, there you are,” an old woman crowed as she rounded the corner of the hallway and spotted the two Ashryver princesses making their way down the hallway, “Your presence is requested at dinner tonight, and seeing as you’ve been on the road all day, Evalin,” a look towards her dusty cloak and scuffed, muddy boots,” you need to bathe and change.”

Old Nan was as stalwart and round as she’d ever been, her harsh eyes buried beneath bushy brows as she looked over both girls with that assessing gaze. Evalin instinctively straightened her spine, correcting her posture.

Eleanor beside her made no attempts to remedy hers.

Evalin had to resist the urge to reach out and nudge her, a gentle reminder to keep them both out of trouble--

The old woman stopped her approach suddenly, tentatively sniffing the air before gasping, “Is that . . . urine?”

Evalin tried to keep her face neutral as she heard her cousin clear her throat, smoothly slipping into a protected position behind her, letting her take the brunt of their nursemaid’s fury. “Nan, please—” Evalin began, trying to placate the old woman before her temper flared, knowing it would likely be unfruitful-

“Eleanor!” A reprimand, sharp and unforgiving. “I’ve told you before, princesses do not waulk fabric. Lucielle will be hearing of this. I’ve told her again and again to not let you sully your hands with the piss of servants.” “And I order you to leave her out of it.” Eleanor snarled from her position behind Evalin, still cleverly hidden as she peeked up over her cousin’s shoulders and narrowed her brows, “Princesses may do as they like, need I remind you.”

An argument as old as the castle itself, one Eleanor and old Nan had had from the time Eleanor had been able to muster the word “no”.

Evalin could already feel the headache creeping in.

She desperately needed to bathe, to sort through her thoughts concerning the conversation she and her aunt had a week before, when, over tea, she’d nonchalantly inquired after the prospect of her and her betrothed’s future heir, violet eyes smoldering as she’d carefully gauged Evalin’s reaction.

When she’d presented the idea that, should she bring her heir to Maeve for training, she’d gladly grant the demi-fae access to Doranelle and rights to all its splendors, as Evalin had been tirelessly working to achieve over the previous years.

The conversation had left her feeling oily, eager to depart Doranelle and return to Wendlyn where she might confide in someone she trusted, in Eleanor, what had been asked of her, in private and without the watchful eyes of her family or the fae.

And now with one of her soldiers arriving here at the palace within an hour of her return home—who was now covered in dye and refuse thanks to Eleanor’s careful hand—there was much for her think on.

“Nan,” Evalin interrupted the argument beginning to build around her, reaching a soft hand out for her nursemaid, “I would very much like to bathe and have Eleanor help me dress if you’d be willing.” Nan’s dark eyes narrowed with simmering fury but she nodded anyway, sidestepping the young princesses and allowing them to pass.

“Be quick Majesty,” she called after, wiping her hands in the apron at her waist, “we’ve a guest tonight.”

“Wonderful,” Eleanor muttered under her breath, only hissing slightly as Evalin surreptitiously stepped on her toe, silencing her. Evalin had assumed as much, knowing precisely who their guest would be. She’d known it from the moment she had noted the tell-tale grey clothing of the warrior from earlier, the fine weapons strapped across him.

He wasn’t an ordinary foot soldier, but one of Maeve’s bloodsworn. The medallion was only a courteous marker for anyone who did not know of them. But any who did . . . it was not hard to identify them, lethal and vicious in the way they moved, their ancient presences near palpable.

Sent, no doubt, at the behest of her aunt.

21 notes · View notes

granddaughterogg · 5 years

Text

Darksiders: The Great House Party - chapter 1

This is more of a polished snippet, guys. But since you don’t seem to like those huge-ass lumps of text I’ve dumped on Tumblr anyway, I’m gonna cut this story into small chapters and publish those as I go. This part is only fluff and totally wholesome. Includes Reader being bratty, Death being a Cultured Badass and Strife making a lame-ass joke. Enjoy!

The sharpshooter appraised you with a half-lidded look. His freckled skin was dark, but not quite brown. You’ve never met a human – or any other being, really - with a hide of such colour. It had deep purplish tones of a ripe eggplant.

Those golden eyes shined like coals in contrast. And now they glided all over you.

It produced a weird sensation in your spine. Not exactly unpleasant, just...alerting. Like that time long ago when you licked a 9V battery and got shocked.

They were no easy answers with Strife. You couldn’t tell what his deal exactly is. You two bickered, you two bonded, you fell out over something trivial, rinse and repeat. Sometimes he made fun of you, sometimes he seemed to really care. Was that buddying camaraderie, or just teeth-clenched teamwork? The most laid-back of the Horsemen kept you on your toes, all the time.

The night was damp, sultry, vibrating with lights and music. It came at you as this onslaught of sensation: too many, all at once, like a wave. You could feel your legs giving in. Your better judgement getting off the hinges, bending like a boiled noodle.

You felt hot, bothered and not exactly sober. Although not nearly drunk enough for your poor choices.

So maybe it were those three beers that did the talking. Maybe it was just you.

„I feel like doing something stupid...”, you said in a low voice.

His eyes went huge. In that moment you could see nothing else. Two golden moons, glimmering with drunken lust and feverish hope. His smile was like a shark’s. You should’ve been put off by the grimace – but then again, you did have had those three beers.

„Well then, kid, you’ve come to the right Horseman”.

*Three weeks earlier*

A party!

The idea sprouted in your head during one of those long, awfully hot summer nights. It so happened that none of the Riders had any murderous business to attend. Unless prodded to do something together, they spent their free time much like giant cats. That is: exerting minimal effort.

They lazied around on sofas, which has been moved out to the spacious veranda. It didn’t help much with the heat. But the night wind rustling through greenery surrounding the house was nice.

Now it blew through War’s shiny hair while he dozed off. The moths smashed their little furry bodies against the lamp. Fury chuckled softly, those pearly peepers glued to the monitor of her laptop.

Strife decimated a pile of doughnuts, while Death read War and Peace.

It sure was peaceful. Which means that nothing happened.

You hanged around them with a humongous glass of iced tea, feeling more hot and bored by the minute.

„It will take you forever to finish this”, you chimed in, tracing the Reaper’s pale forearm with your fingers.

„It just so happens that I have forever.” He didn’t even lift eyes from the page.

You felt like an ignored puppy.

„Why would you spend even a minute of it on this musty ol’ doorstop of a book anyway?” You whined, climbing onto the Reaper’s tight abdomen and leaning over the tome in his hand.

Death gave out a sigh.

„I see”, he said with a half-smirk, stroking your chin with his long fingers. „You wish I’d lavish you with attention instead?”

You pouted. „Well, yeah! I’m bored outta my mind.”

„Later”, declared Death and got back to reading.

„Whut?”

„I’ll attend to you later. Very thoroughly, too.”

Damn his narrow ass! The eldest Rider had such a way of announcing those things. Curt, even standoffish, yet subtly playful in his own way. As much as you’d wish to get all in a huff - you felt defeated by the note of dry amusement in his voice.

But you sure as hell weren’t going to show it.

„Death!...”

„Didn’t you hear what I just said? Now get off me, will you? I’m about to get to the good part.”

Strife chortled - and then had the gall to wink when your head sprung back. The bastard.

„There are no good parts in damn War and Peace”, you mumbled, scampering off the Russian literature aficionado. You set your hopes on War instead.

The Big Guy didn’t object to being crawled on, because he was snoring.

So you have lied flat on his broad chest, spread your arms wide and pretended to be this kid from Totoro.

The steady tide of War’s breath was like the sea’s murmur. Soothing.

„So, which part are you at, exactly?...” you muttered, pressing your cheek to the warm vastness that was the sleeping Horseman.

„Natasha and Prince Bolkonsky are having their first waltz”, said Death. „It’s exquisite.”

She’s gonna cheat on him and he will die in the war, you thought to yourself, but of course didn’t say it aloud. You said only:

„Waltz. Dancing...I’d love to dance.”

„Hey pancakes, you could always hit the town with me.” Strife chimed in, his lazy tone implying that he’s is absolutely not invested in the proposition.

„I could?..” You were baffled.

„As if I’d allow that”, said Death calmly and turned a page.

„Oh come on, D!”

„Yeah, D, don’t get your low cut panties in a twist..." Strife dispatched the last doughnut and casually threw the empty tray through the wide-open veranda doors, into the house. It flew with a „swoosh!” and bounced off the kitchen wall before falling precisely into the sink.

The showoff.

„It’s not like I’m gonna take my eyes off her...even for a second.”

Those golden eyes shined like coals in contrast. And now they glided all over you.

It produced a weird sensation in your spine. Not exactly unpleasant, just...alerting. Like that time long ago when you licked a 9V battery and got shocked.

They were no easy answers with Strife. You couldn’t tell what his deal exactly is. You two bickered, you two bonded, you fell out over something trivial, rinse and repeat. Sometimes he made fun of you, sometimes he seemed to really care. Was that buddying camaraderie, or just teeth-clenched teamwork? The most laid back of the Horsemen kept you on your toes, all the time.

„Those dens that you frequent are not suitable for her kind”, stated your most beloved Nephilim and got back to his read.

„Yeah, cause I’m such a delicate flower, me”, you snorted.

Death ignored you. He would accommodate you in many ways, but he got downward paranoid when it came to your safety.

Those fears of his weren’t all unfounded. Many marauder demons still traipsed the post-Revival Earth; remnants of a once-great army, eager for food or just for something alive to toy with. And during your shared journey through the realms Death witnessed how easy to kill or maim you are.

You couldn’t blame him for being overprotective.

Further bickering seemed pointless. Instead you got an idea. It flashed upon you abruptly like the cartoon lightbulb.

„Let’s throw a party”, you said.

„Huh?...” Strife didn’t seem to follow.

„I said, let’s throw a party. Here. In this house. Let’s get booze and food and stuff. Let’s finally put those bigass speakers you got to play RDR2 to good use. Let’s invite all sorts of folks over and be merry!

„Those are damn good speakers...” remarked Strife slowly.

„Yeah.” You grinned. „That’s what I’m saying. Now imagine Fuel blasting through them.”

„You’ve got me here, pumpkin”, said Strife, throwing his hands in the air. „I’m sold.”

You turned to his twin. „Fury?”

„Oh, I don’t care much about parties”, said the purple-haired one. Her eyes were fixed on funny cats prancing through Youtube. Then she sat up and brushed a tendril behind her shapely ear. „Wait. Did you just say you can make music play really loud tho?”

„As loud as you wish it to be.”

She licked her lips. „Even...Beyoncé?”

You subdued a knowing chuckle. The only thing bigger than the rageful vixen’s newfound affinity for cheesy pop songs...was her need to hide this fondness from her kin. It seemed to have wavered though.

„Especially Beyoncé.” you said, your mouth tilting upwards. „I can’t imagine a better tune to dance the night away.”

„Then I’m on board with this”, said Fury swiftly.

Half of the crew down, another half to go.

„Hey, War!” you jumped up and down, sitting astride the snoring giant. If he were a regular man, he’d probably wake up with a start. War just opened his bright eyes - slowly - and gave you a smile that was not quite there.

„What is it, Little One?...”

„We’re gonna give a party!” You bounced off his firm stomach, excited like a toddler. „Lots of music, lots of booze, lots of people, too! You’re with us?”

„What about food?” That was the Red Rider’s only input. Then he yawned, grunted and stretched to his whole impressive length. The ripple that went through this powerful body almost knocked you over. You laughed breathlessly and clutched onto his shirt.

„Food, sure. We can build a barbecue of epic proportions. Like the one we used to have back when I stayed with the Makers. I’m sure Ulthane will know how to run one.”

„Ulthane! Haven’t seen this old stump for some time now. Also, I’d love some roasted meat.” War’s peepers shone brightly at the idea of a feast; you needn’t coax him further. As Strife’s put it - he was sold.

That left you just with one remaining member of the Nephilim Squad. Unfortunately, he was also the grumpiest one. You first and most beloved. Death.

You looked him in the eyes with pleading.

„D, can we have a house party? Please, please. I’m so bored, I’m gonna climb up walls!”

The Pale Rider bookmarked his page, closed the ancient yellowed tome - and sighed.

„It’s not like I can deny you now, can I?” he said wryly. But the corner of his mouth was twitching, and that flame in his eyes was kind. „Although this is going to put this whole household in a state of disarray.”

„Well, War’s armour pieces already fill the bathtub...and Strife likes to frisbee used dishes into the sink. So you mean, like in more disarray than it already is?” You gave him a shit-eating grin.

Death chuckled. „Good point. Though I have objections. What exactly do you mean by lots of people?”

You calmed down and started to count on your fingers.

„Oh, nothing too excessive. Just a bunch of friends. Like Ulthane and some of his Makers and some angels, I mean, Uriel and Usiel would both be down for it, and maybe Vulgrim…

„Vulgrim steals everything that isn’t riveted to the ground”, said Death dryly.

You giggled.

„Yeah, I reckon. But what exactly can he snatch from our crib that would be worthy enough to fund that soul habit of his? Spoons?”

„Oh, you'd be surprised.”

„Okay, then maybe not him. But Fury, Strife, you both should totally bring your human friends from Haven, too! I’d love to meet them.”

Fury nodded absentmindedly.

„My friends...from Haven?” Repeated the gunslinger in a weird voice.

„Yeah!” You were too preoccupied with your trail of thought to think much about Strife’s suddenly tightened expression.

He went still for a while, then shrugged.

„Your wish is my command.”

„Cool! Oh, this is gonna be fun. I bet Azrael was never to a proper barbecue before...”

„Wait.” Death lifted one hand. „What are you saying? Azrael? The Makers? I have nothing against them, but they would never fit inside this house.”

He was right. You and the Four bought this derelict estate, tore it down and then rebuilt to fit their proportions. Especially to War’s, who never felt at ease in human-sized interiors, what with all his bulk. But the magical Scots people were another case entirely. Same went for Azrael’s nonsensical display of poshness, which was his damn wings.

You grinned and slapped your forehead.

„They won’t...but they'll fit into our yard. Let’s make this a garden party, people! The nights are way too hot to sit inside anyway. War, do you have any additions to the guest list?”

„As long as there’s food, I don’t care”, stated your beloved lug of a man and went back to napping.

„Strife?”

„Lemme see...Make sure to invite Jack Daniels”, quipped Strife and chortled.

You couldn’t help but smile either.

„I am going to regret this”, stated Death stoically. „But so be it.”

#darksiders #darksiders fan fiction #the great house party #darksiders fluff #darksiders death #darksiders war #darksiders strife #darksiders fury #death/reader #strife/reader #keeping up with the nephilim

52 notes · View notes