#/ narrowing my eyes at them . . . excited and Concerned about the Chess Games . . .

[ourpretender]

— tutor's office. @cranetm

as is his nature, oliver arrives early. professor ware had been notified just a week prior, and the rearrangement of their schedules — though exchanged through haughty and arguably condescending e-mails — had come swiftly. he is provided a name alongside a respective office; further information lost between the stiff conversation. still, ever since befriending felix, oliver cares little for academics — for reading, for exerting effort where he isn't appreciated (nevertheless noticed). and thus, he enters without lavish expectation, hands clasped politely around a lined notebook. the figure that meets him is — in nearly all facets — opposing of professor ware. he is young, for one. a handsome man, striking in his features — in the blue of his eyes — and well-kept, ironed down. oliver bristles in habit. "professor crane?" courteous then, he offers a pinned smile. "oliver."

[plant-flwrs]

Hey :) I saw you're taking request and I have troubles writing anything fluffy or sweet. It all turns out angsty somehow :( so maybe you could write some fluff with a bit humor with George? He's taking care of her or protecting her from someone who's mean to her. Keep up the good writing :)

drama // george weasley

masterlist!

a/n: thank u so much!! i am a sucker for fluff, but i do love some angst too. i’m happy to write this for u tho!! hope u like it, thank u so much for the request!

summary: You and Cho Chang never got along, and when push comes to shove, George gets to see just how angry you can get.

(1.9k)

-------

“She’s such a-” you stopped yourself, refraining from calling Cho Chang all the awful names you had on the tip of your tongue.

“What happened?” Hermione asked from your side, used to hearing your endless rants about Cho.

“She said that George was too good for me,” you said, rage bubbling on your chest. You raised your voice and put on a Scottish accent, imitating what she had said, “ ‘It’s just surprising, is all. Didn’t think he’d get with someone like you. Always thought George and Hannah Abbott made a good pair, though.’ Who says something like that?”

Hermione gasped, looking at you in awe. You and Cho had been known to have a passive aggressive feud, but neither of you had ever gone that low before.

“That’s awful, Y/n,” Hermione consoled you. As loud as you yelled, she still saw the hurt in your face.

“I think I should kill her, or something,” you attempted to joke, but it fell on deaf ears as Hermione’s eyes widened at the threat, “I’m not actually going to kill her ‘Mione! I was only joking.”

The both of you flopped down on the couch and you mumbled “sort of”.

Your head lulled back, and you looked at the ceiling. You closed your eyes, trying to even out your breathing.

The second George stumbled through the portrait hole, his eyes were looking for you. He saw you immediately, head rolled back, eyes closed. Your cheeks were flushed, and your brows furrowed. You looked stressed. He came from behind you, on the other side of the couch, and placed a hand on each side of your face.

“Hello, darling,” he said, smiling, as you opened your eyes.

You smiled back at him, shyly whispering back, “hi”.

“You looked upset, what’s wrong?” George asked, still holding your face.

You sat up, pulling yourself to sit on the couch properly. George walked to the front of the couch and sat next to you, his hand going to your knee like it was natural.

“Just something Cho said,” you told him, twisting your fingers in your lap.

George pulled your hands into his lap, unfolding them and holding them.

“What did she say?” George asked.

You and Cho Chang never got along. It was a deep family issue, her parents’ parent’s hating yours. It all started so long ago, your barely remembered why. George had to talk you off many ledges when it came to Cho, and he, just as much as Hermione, always got an earful after one of your interactions with the Ravenclaw girl. This time, though, you felt hesitant to tell George. She didn’t often manage to, but she got in your head this time.

“She said something about you, about us,” you told him, hoping to be able to leave out some of the details.

George’s brow furrowed, and he shifted in his seat, becoming stiff.

“What did she say?” he repeated, sounding worried.

“She said that she was surprised to see us together, that you were better for Hannah Abbott,” you said, feeling the rage bubble back in your chest.

“What? I dated Hannah for a week when we were first years!” George exclaimed, an offended look on his face, “She has no right to say that to you. What did you say?”

A part of you swelled with pride at George’s words. He was just as angry as you, you didn’t feel crazy.

“I told her to shove off, and that I thought Cedric looked better with Hagrid than he did with her,” you admitted, smiling wide as you thought back to how red Cho’s face got.

“You didn’t!” George said, his face spreading into a wide smile.

You nodded enthusiastically, and George wrapped an arm around your shoulder. 

“Let’s go down to dinner, shall we?” George said, whisking you off.

Cho was still red in the face the next day in class, and you couldn’t figure out why. What you said to her was nothing compare to what she said to you, and you were fine.

“Sending your boyfriend to clean up your messes?” Cho choked out, her fists clenched.

She looked different, and you couldn’t place it. You raised your eyebrows at her, not knowing what she was talking about.

“I was in the infirmary all night! The redness hasn’t gone down! I know it was you and George!”

You narrowed your eyes at her face, and did notice that the redness was a little more than an embarrassed flush. You recognized it immediately, remembering when George tested the candy on Fred. It made his face swell when he ate it, and he had to drink this awful potion to fix it. It left him with a bright red rash on his face for two days after. You covered your knowing gaze, and replaced it with disinterest.

“I had nothing to do with that, Cho, but I reckon you deserved it,” you said, turning back to your work.

Cho was enraged. She had never been so angry with you. She knew she wanted to get you back, but with George by your side she couldn’t prank you. She had an idea. She had casually mentioned to Luna that she wanted to fight you. Yes, a real fist fight, at Hogwarts, between you and Cho. Of course, Luna told Harry in between classes, and in a fit of laughter, Harry told Ron during dinner that night. Eavesdropping like she usually was, Hermione heard. Hermione shut her book and came to your end of the table, where you ate with George.

“Y/n!” Hermione called, lowering her face to next to your ear.

You jumped, sending a piece of chicken off your fork and into Fred’s hair from across the table, “You scared the shit out of me!”

George laughed as Fred shook his hands through his hair, trying to get the food out.

“Harry’s just told me that Cho said she wants to fight you,” Hermione said, and when you had no reaction, she repeated herself, “like a real fight!”

You squinted your eyes, trying to think if Cho would actually fight you. It didn’t seem like her, but once you sent her a glance, you saw that it may be likely. Her rash hadn’t improved, and her fists were on the table like she was burning a hole through them.

“George,” you mumbled to him, both of you now staring at Cho, fear in your eyes, “I forgot to ask you something.”

“Hm?” he mumbled, looking concerned.

“Did you do that to Cho?” you asked him.

He nodded, not taking his wide eyes off of Cho as she looked like she might explode.

“You don’t think-”

“She would fight you? Oh definitely. After what me and George did to her last night,” Fred said, glancing at Cho and going into a fit of laughter.

“What did you do?”

“We snuck into the girl’s changing rooms while she was at practice. Left her a little love note from Cedric and a candy. She ate it on her way back to the castle and her head could barely fit through the door!” Fred’s laughter made it’s way to the Ravenclaw table, and Cho stood suddenly from her seat.

You and George both flinched, clutching the other’s arms. She stormed from the Great Hall, and you both let out a relieved breath when she was finally out of sight.

“Oh my god,” you started, “I’ve got to fight Cho Chang.”

Your next few weeks were spent in fear. Waiting for Cho to ambush you, or get you from behind. George walked with you to nearly every class, trying to make sure Cho wouldn’t catch you while you were alone.

You burst into the portrait hole, out of breath from running down the hall.

“This is ridiculous!” you said, falling into the couch.

“I wish she’d just fight me already,” you breathed out, wiping your forehead with your sleeve.

“You make the first punch, then,” Fred said, leaning forward on his knees.

“I can’t! Then I’ll get in trouble,” you said, sitting up.

“Corner her,” Ron said, not looking up from the chess game he was playing with Harry, “confront her, but make her hit you first.”

Ron knocked down one of Harry’s pieces, and Harry groaned.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll have to,” you said, standing and walking right back out of the portrait hole.

George, and nearly everyone else who had heard your conversation, trailed after you. The threat of a fight had been getting everyone excited, and they weren’t about to miss it.

You found Cho on her way to the pitch, her gear weighing down her arms. You figured that was good, it gave you the upper hand.

“Cho!” you called out to her, urgency and anger in your voice.

Fred gave George an entertained look, and George just looked worried.

Your hands were curled into fists at your sides, and you kept your distance when you both finally faced each other.

“If you want to fight me, fight me,” you said, bracing yourself for a hit.

“What?” Cho said, feigning innocence.

“You told Luna you wanted to fight me, so fight me.”

“I never said that. Are you threatening me?” 

Everyone around you was in stunned silence. You looked back to Harry, who only shook his head, insisting that Luna had said that.

“You’re such a liar,” you said, turning away from Cho.

“Luna doesn’t lie! and Y/n wasn’t threatening you. You’re a nasty and mean person,” Hermione said, stepping from the crowd and close to Cho’s face.

“Get away from me Granger, go run to Ron. Oh wait, he doesn’t want you,” Cho spat, shoving Hermione away. Hermione’s face was bright red, and you pulled her away from Cho, standing between them.

“What did you say?” you yelled at her, sounding more threatening than you had ever sounded. Hermione pulled at your shoulder, trying to get you to step back. George’s eyes widened, never hearing you sound like that. Fred’s amused chuckle rang through your ears, giving you confidence. You stepped closer to Cho, and she didn’t say anything. She avoided your eyes and swallowed hard. “What did you say Cho?”

Cho refused to answer, giving you a scowl. Hermione’s pulls at your shoulders finally gave, and you took a step back and began to walk away. You heard Cho snicker, and in one quick step you were in her face, pulling her close to you by her tie.

“You say another word about me or any of my friends,” you couldn’t think of a threat, too many deadly options on your mind, “Do it. See what happens.”

“Let me go!” Cho yelled, but it sounded more like a whine. You released her tie, and because she had been pulling against you, she fell on her back.

Mouths hung open as you returned back to your housemates. Fred lifted you by your waist, holding you in front of him and spinning.

“Y/n! That was brilliant! I think she wet her pants!” Fred shouted, putting you back on the ground.

You turned to watch Cho and the other Ravenclaws retreating to practice, a smile on your face.

George pulled you into him, kissing you.

“That was so hot,” he said smirking at you.

You laughed and shoved him away playfully, starting back up to the castle with your friends.

[thatfanficstuff]

Impossible - Chapter 9

Pairing: Eric Northman x Reader

Warnings: Canon typical stuff

A/N: Look it’s a chapter! How exciting. I really like this chapter. I don’t know why. Enjoy!

***

You snagged a change of clothes from Eric’s office on your way to the showers in the back hall. You made quick work of washing Longshadow off you and down the drain. When you stepped out, you dried off and slid on a pair of Eric’s sweats along with one of the shirts he kept at the bar for emergencies. Thankfully, there was elastic at the bottom of the sweats so they pooled at your ankle. The man was entirely too tall. Your shoes were trashed as well, so you dumped them and everything else in the trash so Pam could dispose of it all.

You padded down the hall and back into the main part of the bar. Eric and Pam were talking with Bill and Sookie while Ginger scrubbed at the mess on the floor, gagging as she did so. “Why are you making her do that? Call the cleaners.”

They all looked in your direction when you spoke. Eric’s eyes trailed down the length of you and back up as a lazy smile spread across his face.

You rolled your eyes and rocked on your feet as Sookie threw her arms around your neck. “Y/N! Thank you so much. I think he would have killed me if you hadn’t done something.”

“I think you’re probably right.” A glance over her shoulder showed Ginger still gagging and scrubbing. “Seriously, Eric.”

He sighed. “Pam.” He sounded so annoyed. Bastard.

“Ginger, enough,” Pam commanded.

“Oh, thank fuck,” the waitress said as she pushed herself up from the floor and staggered off.

“I don’t like people in my business,” Eric said looking at you.

“I fail to see what difference it makes,” Bill piped up. “It’s not as if word won’t spread once you report Longshadow’s death to the Authority.”

Eric’s gaze snapped to the other vampire.

Bill’s eyes narrowed and he sauntered forward a step, an amused expression playing with his lips. “You were intending to report this incident to the Authority were you not? It would be extraordinarily irresponsible of a Sheriff of your stature to do otherwise.”

“Of course, I intend to inform the Authority.” The tone in Eric’s voice said that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Bill smiled and gave a short nod. “Good. As you know I will have to submit my own report of what happened here. I would hate for that to be the first they heard of it. That could cause so many problems.”

The two vampires just stared at each other for a long moment while the rest of you looked on. Finally, Bill broke the silence. “Sookie, let’s go.”

Your friend gave you a confused frown and another quick hug. “I’ll see you later, Y/N. Thanks again.”

As soon as they were gone, Eric was by your side. He grasped your arm and looked back at Pam. “Take care of this.” Then he whisked you into his office.

You leaned against his desk as you watched him pace the floor.

“I will not have you harmed. Not because of this. I will kill Bill Compton if I have to.”

You stepped in front of him to stop his pacing and laid your hand against his cheek. “This is not a problem. Submit your report and let Bill Compton stew in his frustration.”

“You don’t understand, Y/N. I fear the Magister will see you dead for this. And as your mate I will perish alongside you.”

You stood on your toes and he leaned down to meet your lips. “Trust me, Eric.”

***

The night of the tribunal was crisp though you were the only one present that felt it. The Magister held court from the back of an old El Camino. His minion had just finished ripping the fangs from a vampire that fed from another’s claimed human and he glanced at his notes. He straightened slightly and his gaze darted around the gathered crowd, though he failed to spot you from your location off to the side. “Eric Northman, Sheriff of area 5,” he announced and your mate stepped forward.

You and Pam trailed a step behind and the Magister’s gaze settled on you. The corner of his mouth curled in a small smile though his eyes seemed troubled. Probably wondering how he was going to get you out of your latest bout of trouble without revealing to everyone present just who you were. Movement on the other side of the clearing caught your eye. You were unsurprised to see Bill step forward as well. Dumbass.

“Speak,” the Magister ordered, looking at you.

“Magister, if I may?” Bill spoke up.

Eric stepped forward and you grabbed his hand. He glanced at you, but you simply shook your head. With a sigh, he stepped back, linking your hands more firmly together. The gesture did not go unnoticed by the Magister who smirked and arched a brow in your direction.

“And you are?” he asked Bill.

“Bill Compton.”

“Ah. Mr. Compton. You filed your own report did you not?”

“I did.”

“And was there a reason you did not trust your sheriff to make his own report?”

Bill was oblivious to the tone in the older vampire’s voice. The Magister was a stickler for hierarchy and rules. He wasn’t pleased that Bill had attempted to go over Eric’s head to get you in trouble.

“I believed that his feelings for this human would keep him from reporting she killed Longshadow, your honor.”

“A human should be killed for murdering one of our kind,” the Magister stated.

A sound of agreement went up from the group around you.

He raised a hand for quiet. However, humans are outside of my concern. Yet, I am willing to pass judgement on this case. What should that tell you, Mr. Compton?”

Bill frowned as he looked between you and the man that asked the question. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“It means I’m not human, dipshit,” you spoke up. Laughter went up around you and Eric squeezed your hand as a reminder to behave. “I know he’s been told that at least once.” The Magister’s full attention was now on you. He motioned you to step forward and you released Eric’s hand to do so.  

“State your name.”

You rolled your eyes though you doubted anyone but the Magister noticed. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Are you responsible for the death of the one called Longshadow?”

“I am. Longshadow was stealing from our business.” You gestured to the two vampires behind you. It wasn’t the reason you killed him, but it was the reason that would get you off the hook.

“The bar belongs to Eric, not her,” Bill added, starting to look desperate for someone to pay attention to him.

Eric moved to stand beside you. “Y/N is my mate. A fact of which Mr. Compton was also aware.”

The Magister leaned forward in his seat as a murmur went up from the crowd.

“I had no reason to believe his claim was serious,” Bill argued.

Eric’s spine straightened and he took another step forward. “On the contrary, he had no reason to think otherwise.”

The Magister slammed his cane down to bring an end to the bickering. “Mate or not, I think it’s clear what must be done here.” You had an insane desire to reach over and smack the little smirk off Bill’s face. The Magister’s next words took care of it for you. “Mr. Compton, your insubordination and complete disregard for the governing structure of our kind has caused undo hardship to your sheriff. And more importantly, it has wasted my time.” He leaned back in his seat. “To keep from wasting any more of it, I will allow Mr. Northman to dictate your punishment. You will abide by his edict. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Magister,” Bill forced out between clenched teeth.

“That concludes our tribunal this evening,” the Magister announced as he stood. “Mr. Northman, a moment, please. Bring your mate.”

“Of course.” Eric turned to Pam. “Escort Bill home. Make sure he behaves until I get there.”

The two of you were escorted to a limo. You climbed into the back and the Magister instructed his driver to go before putting the partition up. His gaze shifted between the two of you before settling on you. “You might have warned me.”

“And what fun would that be?”

The corner of his mouth curled in a smile as he gave a little shake of his head. “I see you haven’t changed.”

“It’s good to see you, Alonso.”

Eric’s hand flexed as he grasped the edge of the seat between you. You pretended not to notice.

Alonso’s gaze slid to your mate. “Jorge Alonso de San Diego at your service. You may call me Magister.”

A muscle twitched in Eric’s cheek. “Of course, Magister.”

“Really?” you asked.

Alonso looked at you. “Does your father know about this yet?”

You shifted uneasily under his scrutiny. “In a manner of speaking.”

He arched a brow but said nothing as he continued to stare you down.

You sighed. “He is aware that Eric and I are together. We haven’t had time to discuss the details. I’ve been busy.”

“Of course,” Alonso said as he reached into his pocket. He withdrew his phone and tossed it to you. You caught it and tossed it back.

“I’ll call him. Later.”

“You’re out of time, Y/N. Word of this will travel,” he said as he gestured between you and Eric.

“I am very much aware of that. I will call him before the sun rises.”

“See that you do.” He reached over and opened the door, indicating the conversation was over.

Eric gave a nod. “Magister.” He slid from the vehicle, standing just outside with his hand extended to help you.

You leaned forward and kissed Alonso’s cheek before you stepped out of the car. You stopped Eric when he would have shut the door and bent down to see your old friend. “It was good to see you regardless of the circumstances. Next time you are in Shreveport I owe you dinner.”

“You also owe me a chess game if I remember correctly.”

You grinned at him. “That I do. Goodbye, Alonso.” After shutting the door, you stepped back and watched the car pull away.

“You are on a first name basis with the Magister,” Eric said.

It wasn’t a question so you didn’t respond. You turned to face him as you crossed your arms over your chest.

His gaze moved over your face as if he was seeing you for the first time. “You told me once that your father worked for the Authority. I assumed him to be an assistant. A researcher perhaps.”

You said nothing and shifted your weight on your feet.

He closed the distance between you and grasped your upper arms as if afraid you’d run away before he spoke again. “Exactly who is your father, Y/N?”

[bailey-reaper]

The Lord of the Manor (3)

Summary: It seems the best laid plans will go awry when the local nosy aristocrat comes calling. Rather than visiting his brother, Barok finds himself having to play host to Lady Darlington. It’s his worst nightmare as far as social affairs go and he’s keen to have the woman leave, all the more so when she brings up a particularly sore topic...

Content Warnings: angst + me taking artistic liberties re: the van Zieks family

Other parts: (1)  |  (2)

Lady Darlington was anything but a darling, with her viperous tongue, predator-like gaze and unscrupulous sense of decorum... in fact she was more demonling than anything else, in Barok’s opinion. Yet, he knew better than to waste time ventilating such a view – Lady Darlington was greatly skilled in twisting narratives to suit her agenda along with turning on the waterworks seemingly at will. She was formidable in her ability to be vexatious.

“Forgive my delay, madam,” he said as he entered the parlour, “I was not expecting you...” a veiled way of hinting that her uninvited attendance at his home was unwelcome.

She smiled coyly, “No need to apologise my lord, it is I who am sorry for dropping in quite unexpectedly. I was simply too excited to hear that the Master of the van Zieks family was back home. And–” she turned her head to the side, looking away with a demure expression, “Forgive me if I seem somewhat paranoid, but I find whenever I do announce my presence it would seem you are otherwise engaged...”

“A mere coincidence, I assure you,” he replied, with no semblance of sincerity, “Well then, what brings you here?”

“My my... it seems you’ve been a prosecutor far too long, what ever happened to social niceties?”

“In truth, I’ve never been one for such things. Perhaps the life of a prosecutor suits me well for that reason,” his gaze drifted out the window to the pleasant afternoon, which he could have been spending atop Black Gale on his way to his brother’s grave. (And I certainly have no inclination to practice them with you, madam) he thought to himself.

“Hmmmm,” Lady Darlington hummed in an almost sing-song manner, “And yet here you are, back in the family estate after... what? Five years? Have you grown wearing of the ... abrasive mores of Court?” she took a small lace fan from her handbag and lightly fanned herself.

(Ever the odious viper...) it took all his composure to resist scowling at that question, “Not at all, madam, I simply wanted to return home for a little while. That’s not a crime, is it?”

“Oh no, of course not, dear sir!” her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but that did not escape his notice. He knew something unsightly was about to be said, “But I have heard of the rather... disturbing tales that follow you wherever you go.”

“Oh have you now? And what might those be?”

“Why, your title of ‘the Reaper of the Old Bailey’ of course! It was such a shock to hear that the sweet young lord with the face of a cherub had grown up to become such a... menacing figure amidst the streets of the capital! Do you think it’s true? That the soul of your dearly departed brother follows you like a grim cowl and claims victims in your stead?”

There it was, the topic he had expected the moment she brought up his return. Of course she’d come here to satisfy herself about the ‘Reaper’. He sighed heavily, “How should I know, Lady Darlington? I do not presume to see ghosts, nor do I think that I am any such ‘reaper’. Still, if the vulgar classes want to paint me in such a light then I won’t waste my time arguing with them,” he made a point of peering at her as he said ‘vulgar classes’.

“Hm, I see,” she seemed suitably disappointed by his reply, which made him feel ever so slightly better, “I suppose you’re right. It’s just a fanciful tale to delight the peasantry.”

“Indeed...”

“Well then, what of you? How have you been, My Lord? It seems like ever such a long time since I’ve seen you at a function or a party. It’s almost possible to think that your esteemed bloodline is no longer with us!”

“I am fine, thank you,” Barok studiously decided to ignore her bait, “My responsibilities as a prosecutor keep me busy, but I do still find time to attend some gatherings. Perhaps you’re just not in the right place at the right time.”

“Perhaps, perhaps,” Lady Darlington mused, “And what of your love life, dear man? Have you found a wife yet? Klint was already long married by the time he turned your age! As far as I’ve heard, you’ve not courted a single eligible member of the aristocracy. It’s worrying, you know, people will talk!”

(As they do about Oscar Wilde, you mean?) he thought bitterly, “Madam, I fear that is a rather personal matter and quite the veiled accusation you’re making... May I suggest that you trouble yourself with the love lives of others, who I am sure would be most grateful for your concern.“

Once more she appeared disappointed by his clipped response, “Very well, my lord, but should you ever decide to emerge from your self-imposed celibacy, two of my lovely daughters are of courtship age and I’m sure you would find one of them most suitable.”

So that was it. She had come to the manor in order to flog her daughters like cattle at some farmer’s market. He scoffed, “I shall make a mental note,” and he would - a mental note not to attend any local gatherings, lest he be set upon by Lady Darlington and her daughters.

“Very good,” she smiled, clearly unaware of his intentions, “I must say... it’s most nostalgic to sit in this parlour once again. I believe the last time I was here, Klint was regaling me with his recent exploits while his darling lady wife took tea with me.”

“I’m afraid my exploits are far too gruesome for polite company, unless you’d like to hear of the awful things men do to one another in order to keep hold of their power and increase their wealth?” he leveled her with a cold glare; the comparisons to Klint were unnecessary.

He knew he did not, indeed could not, measure up to his brother.

“Ah... no, as  you say, not something for polite company...” she appeared to have turned a shade paler, no doubt thinking of the grisly things that were reported in the papers from time to time, such as the unsightly murder of Lord William Russell.

“Though, I suppose if you are keen to know what I’ve been getting up to, I could tell you about the recent case of a cannibal I prosecuted. That one was a little less gory than the others.”

“A... A cannibal?!” Lady Darlington’s voice had somehow managed to hit a pitch that would no doubt pain any animal with the misfortune to hear it.

“Yes,” Barok nodded, his expression solemn, “A member of a Lord’s staff, in fact. The cook. You know, she was--”

“M-My is that the time!” the lady announced, looking at the grandfather clock and shooting out of her chair abruptly, “Forgive me, My Lord, truly I would love to stay and hear this... fascinating little story, but I fear I must be off.”

“So soon?” he tilted his head and smiled, “Very well, I shall save it for next time we meet.”

“Um. Yes. Quite. Until next time, then!”

“Harvey,” the butler appeared mere moments later upon the master of the house calling his name, “Would you mind showing Lady Darlington out?”

“Not at all, My Lord.” 

“Take care, Lady Darlington,” he called after her as she disappeared out of the parlour. Finally, he was alone in the peace and quiet with nothing but the crackling fire and grandfather clock to disturb the hush.

Barok laced his fingers together and rested his chin against the lattice. He found himself thinking about a conversation he’d had with Klint about the ‘art of socialising’ when he was a child and his brother had recently become the master of the house.

“Come now, little wolf, you mustn’t shy away from social affairs!”

“But they’re terribly boring, brother...”

Klint smiled gently, “Yes, I know, truth be told I’d much rather be playing in the mud with you, or taking Balmung for a walk. But, for the good of the family, these things must be done.”

“Why must they?”

His older brother looked thoughtful for a few moments, before fondly ruffling his little brother’s fluffy curls, “Think of it as a game of war... a bit like chess, I suppose: where you want to keep as many allies as possible, while avoiding making enemies. It’s a silly little thing that the nobility do to keep themselves occupied when they have precious little else occupying their lives.”

“I think I much prefer chess.”

“As do I,” Klint agreed, “Shall we play a game once this party is over?”

Barok nodded enthusiastically, “This time I shall get a checkmate!”

“Oh will you now? That’s quite a bold statement!”

He had not gone on to get the checkmate he said he would, but he’d still enjoyed playing chess with his brother all the same. The little moments like that, after Klint had become the incumbent lord of the family, were precious indeed. He knew his brother had many things grabbing at his time, yet he still made sure to give what he could to his little brother.

Lady Darlington’s surprise visit had scuppered his plans for that day, so he decided to make do with a visit to the master bedroom. He’d been very clear in his instructions to the staff upon becoming the incumbent Lord – Klint’s room was to stay as he’d left it. The only things he’d permitted were for the bed to be stripped down and the wastebins to be emptied.

The first thing that struck him as he opened the door was the scent of his brother. It had faded over time, of course, but there were still wisps of it in the air: the mix of leather, beeswax, cedar wood and amber from his cologne. It was a scent he’d had specially made; his signature. The fact it was slowly fading was yet more proof that his brother’s existence was starting to recede from the minds of others. He had no doubt Lady Darlington’s barbed references were to rile him up and make him say something in outrage, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Barok agreed with her on that point, amazingly: he was no replacement for his brother, and he never felt it more keenly than in the company of other members of the aristocracy. His brother had been able to put on the most charming and suave of personas when he needed to ‘for the good of the family’, as he ‘d put it. Such a talent did not come easily to Barok. He just didn’t care what the wider world thought of him. While he would keep up appearances and carry himself as one of noble blood, he had no family to protect or lineage to fret about. There was nothing left -- only him.

Slowly he sunk to his knees and looked around the silent space, devoid of signs of being lived in. Klint was gone, and he was all that remained of the bloodline. What a sorry state of affairs this was shaping up to be...

[kilesplaysthings]

Hondje’s Secret

Happy October! While brainstorming a fic for spiratualist-nerd!Arthur, I was browsing the ikevam tag and saw lots of love for Theo since his route is coming out. I then had the funniest idea for a fic with him which is in the halloween spirit! combine that with a film I watched today and here we are. so this is all y’all’s fault lol ;) I hope he’s not too ooc since I don’t know his character too well :D

There was something wrong with Hondje. Theo could sense it the moment Sebastian came in with the breakfast tray instead of Ana. She had been living with the horde of vampires for a good month now and they had all gotten used to seeing her every morning pushing the breakfast cart into the dining room, wearing that ridiculous smile that should have been illegal first thing in the morning.

It seems he wasn’t the only one to notice something amiss, as he heard his beloved brother Vincent worriedly ask after her, “Is Ana all right?”

Sebastian hesitated in pouring the coffee and glanced towards Comte St. Germain, who lowered his newspaper at the question. It was almost, Theo noticed, as if Sebastian was seeking the answer from the head of the mansion instead of answering himself. Most suspicious…

“She told us she was unwell, so we thought it necessary to excuse her this morning. She did say, however, that she will be better by this afternoon so there’s no need for alarm,” he answered.

Vincent looked relieved as did many of the others seated at the table.

“I wonder if it’s ‘that time of the month’ for her?” Arthur guessed. He had that annoying self-satisfied smirk on his face he usually had when he knew – or thought he knew – he had guessed something about a woman correctly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that was it, the poor little bird.”

“’That time of the month’?” Isaac queried, brow furrowed in confusion. “Does something happen to Ana every month?”

“Oh yes. It’s something most every lady goes through, and it can be quite irritating for them, to say the least. Why, as I recall, one time—”

“Oh do shut up,” Mozart muttered, buttering his toast rather loudly. “We don’t need that kind of conversation at breakfast.”

“Mozart is right,” the Comte spoke up. “I wouldn’t want to pry in Ana’s affairs, whatever they may be, Arthur.” He gave the writer a pointed stare. It made Theo smirk.

Arthur Conan Doyle merely chuckled and raised in hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll stop there. In all seriousness, though, I do hope she isn’t very ill. Perhaps I should go cheer her up later?” He beamed a rather toothy grin.

“No need. I’ve made sure Ana is comfortable,” Sebastian said quickly. He continued to pour out coffee.

“I’m glad. It would be sad not seeing her at breakfast anymore,” Vincent spoke up sadly, moving every heart that was in the room.

Theo patted his shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll be all right, Broer,” he said soothingly. Of course, they were all worried, even those like Mozart and Isaac – while not voicing their concerns – let it show on their faces.

Let it not be said that Theo wasn’t worried as well, but he figured if Sebastian and the Comte were looking after her, she was in good hands. There wasn’t much else for him to do besides hope she would feel better and continue his day as planned.

After breakfast, once he had his things ready and another painting by his brother packed for travel, he prepared to set out to the city for another art dealership. Vincent was a genius as usual, and he had no doubt that this new piece would sell quickly. He smiled down at King, his retriever who liked to follow him where ever he went. It was nice having a cute companion traveling with him into the city and he knew the dog enjoyed the long walks and treats that would be sure to follow once the painting was sold.

As the two of them approached the foyer of the mansion, King suddenly let out an excited yip and bounded for the front parlor.

“King! You foolish mutt!” He muttered irritably. He set his things down before going to retrieve his dog. Opening the door, he found the dog happily nuzzling none other than Ana, who was petting him amidst her daily routine of dusting.

“Oi! Hondje!” He called out, trying to ignore the relief that he felt at seeing her up and about.

She glanced up at him and offered a somewhat wan smile.

“Hey there, Theo.”

He frowned a little as he walked up to her. Something seemed… off.

“Heard you were under the weather this morning. You feeling any better?”

“Oh. I’m fine,” she answered quietly. Her hands massaged the dog’s floppy ears. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

He narrowed his eyes and studied her for a moment. For someone who said they were fine, she didn’t look it. Her skin was pale and clammy. Her hair was a bit disheveled and she looked tired.

“Well, don’t push yourself too much,” he finally said. “No one would want you collapsing or anything.”

Her smile was now more like how she usually smiled at him. She nodded. “I won’t. Thank you for your concern,” she said warmly.

“Concern.” He scoffed. “You really are a naïve pup, aren’t you?”

Now she was frowning. “I wish you would stop calling me that. Do you know how obnoxious it is?” She muttered angrily, quickly standing up and walking back towards the fireplace, away from him.

“I need to get back to cleaning. Good luck with work today,” she continued shortly, implying that her talk with him was over.

That time of the month. Weren’t a lot of women irritable during that time? Theo wondered. He shook his head, trying not to let Arthur’s suppositions influence him.

“Well, if you’re able to bark at me like that, it seems you’re feeling better. That’s good.” He called for King to follow him and turned to leave. “See you later, Hondje.”

He didn’t hear her very well, but he could faintly catch her soft reply of “See you later, Theo.”

He couldn’t help the small smile on his face as he left. Her behavior concerned him a little; she didn’t seem to be as well as she said she was, but he hoped it was just a one-time fluke. Hopefully they would all see her in the morning.

The next few days, however, were the same. Ana never appeared at breakfast and in the afternoon when she did show up, seemed listless and irritated. Arthur still maintained that it was due to “feminine issues,” and it was hard to argue against him. Who were they to say otherwise, after all? Not to mention, none of them felt brave enough to ask her face to face.

“She exhibits all the signs, and I’m sure she knows it. Tired, achy, moody, wanting to be alone. It’s best that we all just let her be. It’ll be over in a few days’ time,” Arthur would tell them.

They tried to remember that and treated her with the utmost kindness. Being a group of gentleman, vampires notwithstanding, they were always ready to help her if she needed it.

“Do you want to go lie down, Ana?” Napoleon asked one day as a few of them were gathered in the den. She had been delivering tea and had spilled it all over the table after trying to pour some with shaky hands.

“I’m fine,” she muttered as she mopped up the mess.

“I can clean it up so you can rest,” Napoleon urged. He offered to take the towel from her but she jerked it away.

“No, it’s all right,” she quickly argued.

“If you’re tired, you’re tired,” Theo remarked as he moved a chess piece. He and Arthur had once again challenged each other to another game. “Rambunctious  pups shouldn’t deny being tired when they are.”

“I said I’m fine.” Was her harsh reply. Napoleon stared at her and Arthur stopped his move, piece mid-air right as he was about to put it on the board. His little spaniel Victoria raised his head and uttered a low growl.

“Let her be, you two,” Arthur finally said, breaking the tension that suddenly filled the room. His voice calmed down Vick as well and the dog laid his head back down on the sofa.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking sad. “I didn’t mean to lash out.”

“Don’t pay them any mind, Ana,” Arthur said soothingly. “But honestly, don’t feel like you have to push yourself especially while on your monthly.”

Theo rolled his eyes so hard, he could have sworn he saw the back of his head. Arthur may have been trying to appear understanding, but he just came off as patronizing. It was plain to see Ana didn’t appreciate his remark either. She shot him a look that demonstrated she was far from amused or appreciative.

“Wow thank you for that,” she muttered. She slapped the towel down on the table and headed for the door. “I’m leaving.”

“You’re such an idiot.” Theo stated once the door was closed.

“Oh she’s fine.” Arthur waved his words away. “It will take a lot more than mere sarcasm to ruffle my feathers.”

“Something seems wrong, though,” Napoleon said thoughtfully. “Ana’s different and I don’t think it’s due to a mere menstrual cycle.”

Napoleon may have been correct, Theo thought, when he found her curled up in a ball on the library sofa the next day. He had been looking for King and found that both he and Vick were there lying with her. It was almost like they could sense what was troubling her. Every time she quietly groaned in pain, they would emit a soft whine.

“Ana?” He called her by her actual name, which caused her to stare up at him with bleary eyes.

“Oh. Theo. It’s you.” Her hair fell down around her face in unkempt waves. “Sorry. I’m not myself today.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” He shooed the two dogs away and sat on the edge of the sofa. “Let’s get you back to your room. Can you walk?”

She slowly nodded. “Probably.”

He gently grasped her arm and helped her to sit up. Then, slipping his arm around her thin waist, he helped her stand. She flinched a little, but didn’t say anything to oppose him. Instead, she clutched the back of his vest with an iron grip. They made their way out of the library and down the hall towards her room. She tried not to stumble, but she was quite weak and he had to catch her a couple of times so she wouldn’t fall.

“Seriously, what is wrong with you?” He muttered as they neared her room.

“Excuse me?”  She gave him a look.

“You heard me. We all thought Arthur was right; that this was just what a human woman goes through every month. And don’t look at me like that, most of us have all been married before. We know what you go through. But that’s not it, is it? I would have smelled it otherwise. So what is it?”

He knew he was coming off as blunt, but he truly was concerned. Ana didn’t take it well, however.

“Whatever it is, it has nothing to with you!” She snapped. “I said I would be fine in a few days, and I meant it. So just leave me alone until then!”

She shrugged off his arm and staggered into her bedroom, shutting the door in his face.

Theo huffed. “We can’t help but worry about you when you act like that, you mongrel,” he muttered. He stalked down the hall to his room, jamming his hands into his pockets, now in a rather foul mood.

It only took one more day for Theo to have all his questions and concerns answered.

The moon was full and bright that night as both he and Arthur came home from a late night trip to the bar. Arthur was quite plastered at this point while Theo was as sober as could be. So, of course, it was up to him to get his reckless friend home. They staggered into the mansion, Arthur unabashedly singing a jaunty tune. It took all of Theo’s self-control not to just dump him on the mansion floor and leave him there for Sebastian to find him in the morning.

“I swear, you owe me big time,” he groused out as he deposited the drunk Scotsman on his bed.

“Yeah yeah. I’ll be sure to make it up to all three of you in the morning.” Arthur drawled out. A minute later, he was snoring away.

“Domkop,” he muttered. “I have no idea why I choose to be this guy’s friend.” Even so, he couldn’t help but smile. Why he was fond of this womanizing, arrogant writer, he’d never know. The fact that Arthur had quite the charisma and contagious charm to him may have been a part of it, but Theo refused to acknowledge that.

Now beginning to feel tired himself, he made his way to his room, looking forward to a good night’s rest.

That’s when he heard it: the sound of shattering glass followed by a banging on one of the nearby doors. There was then a cringe-worthy scraping sound of wood. It made a chill go down his spine. He walked slowly towards the sounds at first, but his pace quickened when he began to hear low groaning.

The source of the noises all came from one room. Ana’s room. Why was she awake? It was late: half past two. And he knew she was not a late night person. He placed his hand on the door and leaned close to listen. The groans grew louder and he thought he heard a low growl. Suddenly, there came the sound of fabric tearing and the groanings turned into cries. Not cries of pleasure. Cries of agony.

“Ana? Ana!” He rammed his hand on the door.

The cries continued, not heeding him.

“I’m coming in!” He announced.

“Don’t!” Came a tormented voice. It was a lower voice, but somehow, it was still hers. “Just go away!”

“Oh shut up! If you’re in trouble, you shouldn’t be alone!” He shouted. “I’m coming in!”

With his vampiric strength, he knocked in the door in record time. What he beheld inside left him shocked. The room was a mess. A shattered pitcher and basin lay all over the floor in pieces. The bed sheets were in tatters. Clothes were shredded. There were what he could only figure to be claw marks all over the furniture and walls. And there was blood. So much blood. The moonlight streaming in between the tattered curtains shone down on a figure writhing under a bedsheet. A long thick chain was tied to the bed post and seemed to be connected to that covered figure that was still groaning in pain.

After taking it all in, he slowly approached the sheet and carefully lifted it. His eyes widened in shock.

“Ana…” He breathed her name. “You’re…”

“I told you not to come in!” Her altered voice wailed, or more distinctly, howled.

What were unmistakably Ana’s green eyes stared up at him in horror, but her face. It was no longer the face of a human woman. The snout was too long. The ears pointed and on top of her head. And she was covered in a thick fur the same color as her hair. She was huddled up in a ball and her claws clutched at the rug below her. A bushy tail curled around her body defensively.

“Wolf.. werewolf…” He muttered, aghast. “They’re real…”

“Oh shut up!” She cried, exposing an impressive set of canines. “Vampires are real, so why not werewolves, huh?”

He blinked. “Yeah, good point.”

“I told you not to come in here! Why couldn’t you have just listened?”

“What was I supposed to do?” He argued back. “You sounded like you were in immense pain! And it looks like you were, at that!”

Her ears flattened and she lay her head down on the sheet, looking like a kicked dog.

“You could have just kept walking. This isn’t something to be worried about. This only happens every--”

“Every full moon, right? I’ve heard the legend.” He walked over and took a seat on the rug beside her.

“I take it the Comte and Sebastian know?”

“Yes. I had to tell them if I was to leave here peacefully. They took it rather well, for vampires.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, frowning.

She scoffed. “Vampires always look down on werewolves. They see us as lower creatures that can’t ever control their urges.”

“Well you don’t really help your case by having that attached to you.” He nodded at the chain tied to the bedpost.

“It’s for precaution!” She retorted. “I can usually handle myself quite well! I’m still young, so sometimes I do have trouble keeping control. But I’m still training myself.”

She stood up on all fours and approached him, the chain jangling behind her.

“For instance, a lesser werebeast would want to tear all of you apart just by looking at you, but I don’t. I’d rather not eat vampire, if I can help it.” She sat down on her haunches and stared at him reproachfully.

He rolled his eyes at her. “Well I’m glad I’m not edible, I guess. It’s good to know you’re so well-trained.”

She snarled at him. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I think so, yes.” He then smirked. “So, you won’t attack even if I do this?”

He put his hand on her head between her ears and ruffled her fur. It was surprisingly just as soft as her normal hair.

“Want me to bite that hand off?” She growled.

“I’d like to see you try! Looks like my “pet” names for you were quite accurate, huh? No wonder they annoyed you!” He began to laugh.

“If you’re going to just mock me then leave before I tear out your throat!”

“Now, now, that’s my job.” His voice lowered and he grinned at her. “You know, you’re rather cute, for a werewolf.”

He could see her hackles rising. “I mean it, Theo! I don’t need any teasing from you!”

“Oh, but I’m not teasing. I’m in complete earnest. Now, let’s do something about this mess you’ve made.” He got up and headed to the door.

Ana growled a little. He was acting so smug, it was annoying.

“Are you going to tell the others?” She demanded to know.

He paused, his hand on the doorknob, and turned to smile at her.

“Now why would I do that? I rather like having this secret with you. Granted, the Comte and Sebastian know as well, but they probably haven’t seen you like this, have they?”

Ana’s silence was the confirmation he needed. He grinned more.

“I’ll make sure to take care of you every full moon, Hondje. It will be like you’re my very own pet.”

She bared her teeth at him angrily. “Don’t do me any favors!”

“It’s no trouble, really.” He continued to beam a great smile at her. It made her fur stand on end.

“Now, be a good girl and stay put. I’ll be right back with a broom to clean up this glass, all right?”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Ana to bemoan her fate even further. Theo, on the other hand, was strangely satisfied with this new revelation. He was quite gleeful, actually.

A werewolf. How extraordinary! Of course the others would be shocked to see her like that, but I rather like her like this too. Heh. I have always been fond of any kind of canine. How different is a werewolf?

As he went his merry way, Ana buried her furry head under the sheets again. Why? Of all people to see her like this, why did it have to be Theodorus Van Gogh?! She let out a low whine, knowing that from here on out, he would make things – quite interesting for her to say the least. Or perhaps, nightmarish was the better adjective, she decided.

[how-masterful]

Remastered

Dhawan!master x reader

Chapter 2: Nightmare In Silver

Summary: The cyberiad never forgives. Nor does it forget. When the master and you arrive at an abandoned theme park, the looming cyber threat stands determined to rise and take revenge for the fall of the cyberium. With a dormant cybermite ready to convert you at any moment, and the master stuck in the middle of a deadly chess match for both of your lives, you struggle to understand just who's in control of the timelord... And just how in danger you truly are.

Notes: a 200 follower special! As always, this fic is dedicated to the reigning queen @plethora-of-imagines. I hope you enjoy this one, I've certainly been sitting on it for a while! 👑 feedback is forever appreciated- I hope you all enjoy!

"OH Y/N?!"

You rolled your eyes and gave out a sigh. The Master required you once more- or at least, the cyberplanner that sat inside his brain did.

You took a large gulp of the cup of soup you held in your hands. You'd spent hours couped up in the confines of the castle, running purely on fear and adrenaline, so the last thing the pair of them could do was give you a moment to refuel and gather your thoughts. The man beside you, a fellow soldier named Porridge, gave you an inquisitive glance.

"Are you not going to see what he's after?"

You shook your head, gladly taking another gulp of your soup. Whatever it was would have to wait. You needed this moment of peace.

"OH Y/N, YOUR MASTER WANTS TO SEE YOU! DON'T KEEP ME WAITING!"

"For gods sake."

You handed your cup of soup to the man beside you with an apologetic grin, thankful for the moment of comfort the warm food had brought. The smaller man laughed, taking the cup from your grasp.

"Sorry, Porridge- I'd better go see what they want. I dont think either of them are willing to be patient."

Porridge raised a knowing eyebrow, causing you to shake your head and chuckle lightly. You'd been placed in charge of the punishment platoon stationed on the planet, your attention pulled in all matter of different directions as you attempted to withstand the incoming cyber threat. From what Porridge had seen of your timelord he knew it best for you to attend his side- he'd happily keep watch of the mingling members of the squad you'd been laboured with, while you dealt with his demands.

"I'll let you know if there's any change. Don't keep him waiting- and be careful up there."

You smiled and gave him a quick salute, a smirk playing on the corners of your lips.

"Don't worry, the Master won't hurt me."

You spun on your heels with confidence and headed towards the doorway within the castle wall, bracing yourself for whatever demanded you be present in the throne room upstairs. Porridge sighed, taking a hefty swig from his own cup of soup as he watched you disappear into the stairwell.

"It's not the Master i'm worried about."

The Master sent you a warm smile as you soon entered the throne room, your eyes instantly falling to the chess game before him. You scanned over the board, observing the games progress with hopeful curiosity.

The Master had lost another bishop, the Cyber Planner both of his knights, only a scattering of pawns left between them as their pieces edged closer and mingled on the board. The Master's eyes met yours, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

"Ah, there she is! I was starting to get worried you were avoiding me."

"This had better be good, I gave up my soup for this."

The master laughed once more, smiling fondly as you continued to inspect the game board.

"Dont worry pet, i'm winning if thats what you're concerned about." He said, causing you to raise your eyebrow with a hum.

"Just checking, thats all. You called, Master?"

The Master beckoned you closer with a wave of his hand, sincerity laced in his gaze. He held out his palms, offering them for you to take, but you didnt move, eyeing him suspiciously. He looked perfectly normal, despite the extensive Cyber framework positioned on his cheek, and was gazing at you with his familiar selective fondness that made you practically melt. Something, however, felt oddly wrong. You just couldnt put your finger on it. Your pause caused the Master to frown.

"Whats wrong? That upset about your soup?"

The Master tilted his head in confusion, brows knitting together across his forehead. You narrowed your eyes, trying to find any cracks within his facade. The Cyberplanner could be a great actor, but you knew the Master would always be a better one.

"How do I know you're you?"

The timelords face shifted in recognition- you were simply being apprehensive. Smart. He nodded his head, leaning forward as if to whisper. You unknowingly leant forwards, echoing his movements as he reached out for you once more. You almost recoiled, but the Masters position stayed firm.

"Trust me dear, the Cyberplanners hibernating between moves- this is technically my turn. C'mere pet, I wont bite. I want to see my human."

You hesitantly advanced towards him, your lightly trembling hands slowly slipping into his own. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, the timelord raising your joint hands and lacing a kiss to the back of them. You smiled, a blush spreading over your face as he pulled you closer to the table, noses hovering only centimeters apart. His large brown eyes met your own, scanning over your expression as he continued to hold your hands. His hold felt normal, the tenderness in which he held you all too familiar. You couldn't help but allow yourself to indulge. The Master suddenly sighed, breaking the cumulative silence.

"I'm worried about you, pet. I'm stuck up here playing chess with a vengeful computer program in my brain, meanwhile my girl's out there leading a platoon against an army of Cybermen with a Cybermite inside her, ready to convert at any second."

Ah, right. The Cybermite. You were so invested in this sudden affection you'd forgotten all about the whole reason he was playing this game. Or at least, the rushed explanation of events the Master had spouted to you as he rushed towards the castle only a few hours earlier.

The Master had accepted the Cyberplanners bargain for you. The failure of the Cyberium had caused shockwaves through all Cyber units in the cosmos: and it just so happened the planet you'd landed on was utterly riddled with vengeful Cyber technology- more specifically, a demented piece of technology only known as the Cyberplanner.

You'd been infected during an ambush that left three of the platoon below you both dead, and the Masters infuriated investigation had lead to him coming face to face with the control system for the planets dormant Cybermen. He too had been infected, this time by the planner itself, and they now fought for control of his brain. At least, that's what he'd hurriedly told you as you tied him to his very chair.

The stakes were certainly high: if the Master won, the Cyberplanner left his brain and the Cybermite inside you vacated your system. If the Cyberplanner won, he'd get the Masters mind and all his knowledge on the timelords, and you'd soon find yourself inhabiting a shiny new suit of cyber casing for all eternity.

Safe to say, you hoped your countless chess matches in the TARDIS library had prepared him well enough for this moment.

A gentle smile spread across your lips, the tension in your shoulders subsiding at the Masters words. Of course he was unknowingly morbid, typical timelord behaviour, but you knew him well enough to know he was trying to be tender. Perhaps trying that little bit too hard.

"I want that thing out of you and us off this planet. I care about you too much to see you hurt, dear."

You hoped the quickening of your heartrate wasn't as obvious to him as it was to you. Judging by his smile, he'd definitely noticed. Of course he cared, he'd shown you more than enough that you meant everything to him. The butterflies in your stomach still remained at every moment, no matter what he did.

He placed a kiss to your forehead, lips gentle against your skin, barely a peck but enough to make you shiver. You relented the distance between your faces, your foreheads connecting, noses brushing against eachother. Your eyes fluttered shut, his lips ghosting over your own as you nuzzled your nose against his, the timelord humming in appreciation.

"You're weaponless down there, all vulnerable and open" he sighed, placing a peck to the side of your mouth. "I'm not there to keep you safe"

You groaned lightly, shaking your head as you bit your lip. The Master almost purred at the sight, your lips glossy and red.

"No... We're not weaponless." you admitted, the Master adjusting your hands so your fingers interlocked on the table. His hot breath sent shivers down your spine as he laughed incredulously, your hair standing on end.

"Oh yeah? Whats my little human got to beat the big bad Cybermen with, hmm?"

Your eyes fluttered open, confusion swirling in the pit of your stomach. Something about that set your teeth on edge, the flurry of pleasure coursing through you replaced with a sudden drought of suspicion. This sudden outburst of affection hadn't truly felt right from the start, but now the cracks were finally starting to show.

He was teasing you, flirting- business as usual.

But the way your stomach dropped indicated something was very, very wrong.

"One big charge gun...five hand pulser units..." You started, nipping the end of his nose. The beeping pulse of the Cyber system on his face suddenly seemed far more obvious than before. The Master pouted, letting his face slip into a childish frown, beard tickling at your skin.

"Is that all? Pity, I thought you were about to excite me, dear."

You fought against your instinctive wince, smiling playfully as you pecked his bare cheek with a teasing hum. You advanced even closer, careful to not disrupt the chessgame below your body. The Masters eyes never left yours, gaze almost robotically focused on your expression.

"And... A shiny black planet smashing bomb with a trigger unit."

The Masters gaze shot wide, excitement dancing in his pupils as he let out a tiny gasp. You giggled, the timelord beginning to practically vibrate with glee. That had most definitely gotten his attention.

"Now THATS exciting. Dont you agree, pet? Should've lead with that."

"Well..." You teased, smirking devilishly and purposely biting your lip. "You of all people should know- theres nothing more exciting than a reveal."

The Master paused, as if processing exactly what you'd just said. Processing for just that bit too long. His wide eyes softened into a hungry gaze, smirk quirking at the side of his mouth as he watched you intently. You'd seemingly caught him off guard, his delayed reaction adding to your concern.

"Well then, why don't you indulge me?" He asked, voice dripping with unspoken desperation and eyes furiously scanning over your body for any sign of the trigger unit.

"Where is it, dear?"

You smiled shyly, but internally you were starting to panic. If your intuition was correct, letting the Master, or whoever was truly driving him right now, get their hands on the trigger unit would be a very bad idea. You feigned a blush, moving to shy your face away and gesture to your back pocket. The Master quickly caught on and hummed out a laugh, charming and sweet, squeezing your connected hands in excitement.

"Oh good girl, you brought it with you. Best leave it with me, pet- dont want any old Cyberman getting their hands on it do we?"

And there it was. Just as you'd suspected.

You nodded in agreement, slowly removing your hand from the masters grip and reaching for your back pocket. The Masters hand moved to cup your chin, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, your tongue teasing the tip of his thumb, causing him to shiver.

"Thats my girl, such a good girl for me."

The Master's voice was barely a whisper, eyes alit with something inherently maniacal. You let out a trembling breath, a quiet moan erupting from your throat. The Master's low chuckle didnt help one bit, your lashes fluttering as you held your hand behind your back. You suddenly paused, taking a breath. What you were about to do was either going to save your neck or result in a very pissed off timelord- but you had to take the risk.

"Theres one teeny, tiny problem though." You murmured, flattening out your hand behind your back and pulling your grip from the masters other hand. The Master tilted his head, nose brushing against yours as he lifted your chin with two fingers.

"And what problem is that, pet?" He offered, voice soothing and eyes tinged with a certain level of confusion. Your eyes flickered between the cyber hardware and those familiar brown eyes.

"My problem?"

You took a final breath, pulling away from the masters face and straightening up. It was now or never.

"I'M NOT YOUR GIRL!"

You raised your hand and swung, palm fiercley colliding against the masters bare cheek with an all mighty crack. His head suddenly whipped to the side, fringe flopping wildly as the cyber hardware began to violently flash, his whole body jolting with a richochetting mechanical 'snap.'

The timelords jaw dropped in shock, a gutteral yell of pain soon errupting from his throat as he turned to face you with a viscious glare, hand flying to his reddening cheek. He lowly snarled as you raised your hand to strike him again, the Master's hand positioned to stop the incoming hit with sudden wide eyed recognition.

"OW, FUCK! Love, love it's me!"

Love. Thats right, you were love. It was always his favourite pet name for you. The Cyberplanner hadn't called you that once. Maybe that's why you knew wasn't him. He was a romantic bastard at hearts.

You kept your hand poised to strike, a frown tugging on the corners of your mouth as the Master rubbed his reddening cheek. You almost felt proud at how hard you were able to strike him. Almost. You leant close to his face and raised your eyebrow, the masters expression copying your own, as if you were looking into a confused funhouse mirror. You narrowed your eyes, the master soon realising and raising a cautionary finger.

"Dont you DARE get any more ideas about slapping me again!"

Yeah. This was definitely the Master. You couldnt help but hold back your grin.

"How did you know it was him?"

You slowly pulled the trigger unit from your back pocked, shaking it between two fingers before clutching it back into your palm. The Masters eyes followed intently, gaze shifting from the device to your face as you leant against the table.

"This was all he was after. I could tell something was wrong when he seemed far too interested in getting his hands on it."

"Ah, I see."

"Plus-" you started, unable to hide your blush as your lips quirked into a bashful smile.

"He didn't call me love. And thats something you never fail to do."

The Master's grin was tender, lips curving amorously, all the while propping his head upon his fist and digging his elbow into the table. He batted his long eyelashes playfully, causing butterflies to return to swarm in your stomach.

"I always knew you were an absolute glutton for my terms of endearment, love- you have an undeniable sweet tooth for affection. And, a surprisingly strong smack. Consider that information filed away for later."

You giggled lightly, shaking your head. Of course he'd consistently flirt in a time of crisis- that was one thing about him the Cyberplanner got right. You sighed and began to push yourself off the table, leaning over to steal a peck from his lips, a kiss which the Master eagerly returned with no protest. It almost hurt you to pull away, your brain telling to you head back in for more- but you had work to do.

"If you're done trying to woo me again, lover boy, you've got a game to win. Now hurry up and finish it so we can get off this plane-"

Snap. The Masters arm suddenly jolted, limb twitching as if struck by a sudden bolt of lightning. The arm ripped itself from under his chin with a harsh mechanical clang, his hand lurching to grasp tight purchase on your wrist. Sharp fingernails dug tightly into the skin of your wrist, your fist freezing and seizing up around the cylindrical devise in your hand. Your wide eyes met the masters own confusion, his expression tinged with struggle as you gasped in pain.

"Master that hurts, let go!"

The Master clenched his teeth together, huffing out a breath as he fought to pull his grasp from your hand. His fingers dug in tighter, nails almost drawing blood as you felt your wrist begin to buckle under his strength.

"I can't, he's got control of the other bloody arm!-"

You let out a painful whimper, your other hand flying to help prise off his fingers. He soon followed suit, letting out a growl as he grasped ahold of his other wrist. It became a vicious  tug of war- his grip was an utter vice on your wrist, the skin reddening under his hold as his left arm began to squeeze the trigger unit from your fist, your pain exhumed with pitiful cries.

"NO! NO, NO NO!"

The Masters yell was visceral as the Cyberplanner prised the trigger unit from your fingers, winning the fight and releasing your wrist with a rushed, hasty flourish. You stumbled back with a cry, clutching your bruising wrist to your chest as the Master slammed the trigger unit hard and fast against the tabletop. You watched him in terrified awe- the trigger unit crumbling to dust under his strength, disintegrating into nothingness atop the checkerboard table.

"Master?..."

You both sat in stunned silence, the masters breath shallow as his eyes furiously darted from your wrist to the chessboard, mouth hung open in shock. You dared to step forward, slightly cowering from the timelord sat before you.

"Its my move-"

"Master- What do you mean?"

"He got exactly what he wants-"

"He wants to destroy the trigger?"

The Masters gaze slowly rose to meet your startled eyes, wide brows suddenly submerged within a thick layer of malice. You stepped back once more, stomach churning as a twisted smile ripped itself across the masters face. This was the smile reserved for those who the Master knew wouldn't live to tell the tale of your encounter- The headlights that trapped meek little deer's like you in its blinding beam: But this wasn't the Master. Not anymore.

"No, love-" the Master spat with a grin, making you involuntarily flinch. "I want to destroy you."

The gulp that cowered within your throat caused the Master, more accurately the Cyberplanner, to laugh darkly, sneering face leering at you imposingly across the table. You felt as if the breath has been snatched from your lungs, panic soon poisoning your veins like a vicious chill. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as the Masters lips curled into a smirk.

"You know, Y/N, Inhabiting the Master's brain has taught me so much- Its been an absolute education. Now I see why the Cyberium chose him. He's potent, passionate- he has potential. But, like your sniveling human kind, theres weakness. There always is."

You scrunched your nose into a snarl, wary of edging any closer to the Cyberplanner.

"The master isn't weak." You snapped, but the Cyberplanner inside him merely laughed.

"How sweet- but its all in vain, pet. Right now, your precious Master's brain is the hivemind of the new Cyber revolution. Call it a second chance at doing what he promised to do the first time, but failed at... miserably."

The Master suddenly gestured to the window, shaking fingers pointing to the sprawling hills of the abandoned amusement park you took refuge in. You felt your insides tumble over each other as they tied themselves into agonising knots. He seemed to sense your fear, shushing you with false tenderness.

"Don't be scared, can't you hear them? Can't you hear them waking, the new race of the Cyberiad? Your soon to be brothers and sisters? They're coming for you, little human. We're already inside you. The Master can't save you now."

You took a trembling step back away from the table. The Master noticed in an instant, body leaning forward to follow your escape with looming intimidation.

"The revolution is coming, my dear, and if you're not already in a grave- you'll be converted. But don't fret, little human: Your Master will get to watch you perish, as he stands above the bright new dawn of the Cybermen. It will be my honour."

The look in your eyes as you stood face to face with the Cyberplanner could rival a burning sun. But on the inside, your fear was chilling you to the bone. The Master slowly began to rise from his chair, fighting against his rope, your feet instinctively shuffling back against the aging marble floor as you began to back away towards the exit. His laughter formed to rumble in his chest, soon expelling out of his throat into a mutated, twisted snarl. You had no time now to indulge further in the Cyberplanners intimidation: you had to get back downstairs. You had to warn the platoon that a war was on the horizon.

"That's it, little human! Run! Run while you can!"

His fury soon fell on deaf ears, form deviously hunched atop of the chessboard as you disappeared through the arching stone. He watched you leave with a devilish enjoyment, his finger hovering over the central piece on the board- his absolute prize of the game: the Masters queen. The Cyberplanner couldnt hold back his prideful smile, his twisted gaze fixating on the pure white chess piece, his didgit circling the crown as the metallic hardware adorning the Masters face flashed with excitement.

"The sun is rising on a brand new dawn, time lord- your queen will soon be mine... and i'm not just alking about our little chess match, either."

The Master's finger left the chess piece, body sliding to sink back against the plush throne he was bound and tied upon. The same smile still graced his lips as he tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair- a haunting four beat drum tapped against the fading gold.

Internally, the Master begrudgingly knew time was running short. He needed to win this game- to save his own mind from destruction at the hand of the Cybermen, but protect the only thing he would ever put himself into this position for- you.

With a small, sudden click, the Cyberplanner began to relenquish control of the Masters body from his grasp- the Masters conscious slowly spilling out of submission and back into the drivers seat of his form, the Cyberplanners metallic laughter still echoing in his mind.

"We can't play this game forever, time lord, your little human said it herself. The cyberiad wants its victory that you promised, and it will most certainly collect.

It's time to finally finish what you started, Master:

Its time for the endgame."

-------------------------------------------------------

[nekomassetters]

Fourteen

The next morning you're woken up by snoring. Forgetting that you had slept in Kenma and Kuroo's room last night, you become momentarily frightened when you open your eyes to see Kuroo in the bed next to you.

There's no way Kenma and I...

You slowly look behind you for the boy whose bed you were in, but he isn't there. As the memories of last night begin to return to you, you turn back around to face Kuroo. Calling to him quietly, Kuroo eventually wakes up.

"Y/N?" he says softly as he wakes up.

"Where's Kenma?" you whisper to him.

"How should I know?" he complains as he covers himself more with his blanket, "I just woke up and my head hurts like a bitch."

Kuroo lifts his hand up to his head as he scrunches up his face in pain.

"What the hell happened to me last night?"

You begin explaining to Kuroo about the events of the night. You could tell through his facial expressions that some things he could remember, but others were like foreign concepts.

Just then, you hear the door creak open, revealing a tired-looking Kenma staring back at the pair of you.

"Yo what happened to you Kenma?" Kuroo laughs, "Too much partying?"

"Shut up," Kenma snaps as he walks over to his desk chair, "I couldn't get a bit of sleep because of the two of you!"

"Us?!" you exclaim defensively.

"Yeah between Kuroo's snoring and your sleep talking I could hardly close my eyes."

"I don't sleep talk!" you retort.

Kenma shakes his head in disagreement until Kuroo's laugh snaps him out of the moment.

"Man I can't believe you let Y/N sleep in your bed, Kenma," he teases, "what's up with that?"

"Calm down," Kenma says with a straight face, "I slept on the floor."

"Sure," Kuroo says skeptically before turning back to you, "then why does she have your shirt on?"

"I asked for it," you quickly lie, "I was uncomfortable so I, uh, asked Kenma if I could borrow it."

Both boys stare at you with confusion written all over their faces.

"Alriiight," Kuroo says as he narrows his eyes, "I guess that checks out."

"Y/N," Kenma quickly calls to you to change the subject, "how are you feeling this morning?"

"I'm fine just a bit hungover but it'll be okay."

As the boys continue to converse, you grab your phone and see your text to Ritsuko last night. You decide to text her once more to make sure she's alright and she responds letting you know that she's fine.

You then text Yaku with the intention of doing the same. However, your plan backfires as he asks you to hang out. Seeing as you did promise them that you would, you let him know you'll be over in a bit.

📷

After showering, you making your way back to your room. As you enter, you're surprised to see your roommate there once again. Noticing your gaze, she looks up at you.

"Oh hey Shiro," you say as you close the door, "I wasn't expecting to see you."

"Sorry," she mumbles.

You walk across the room and notice she's playing a game on her computer.

"What are you playing?" you ask as you put away your towel.

"Chess," she once again says quietly.

"Can I watch?"

After your roommate nods, you walk over to her to check out the game.

"Wow you're pretty good," you remark as you watch the moves she makes.

"Mhm," she replies, "I have to play this game on the computer because I haven't met anyone real who I can actually compete with."

She must be some kind of prodigy. I can tell she's not being rude, she actually means it.

Just then your phone chimes and you turn it on to reveal spam from Yaku asking when you are going to come over.

"Well good luck," you say before walking back to your side of the room.

You then let Yaku know you'll be right over. After you finish dressing, you say goodbye to your roommate and leave the room.

📷

"Hey have you guys ever played chess?" you ask as the three of you play a card game.

"Hell no," Yaku replies as he lets out a laugh, "I'm smart but not thaaat smart."

"I've never played," Lev says as he shakes his head, "why do you ask?"

"My roommate was playing it and she said nobody could play as good as her," you shrug, "so I was just curious."

"She said that to your face?" Yaku asks with a hint of anger.

"Don't worry she didn't mean anything bad by it," you tell them.

"Hmm," Yaku says skeptically.

After the card game, the three of you relax and continue chatting about whatever conversation was brought up.

As it gets later, somebody knocks on the door so Yaku gets up to answer it. When he comes back, he reveals a huge grin.

"I scored us some alcohol kiddos," he exclaims.

You immediately deadpan as the words fall from his mouth.

"Seriously Yaku? You made me drink last night!!"

"Aaaand?" he says excitedly as he sits next to you and Lev, "what's the big deal?"

"The deal," you say as you grab the bottle from him, "is that I get to drink first so I don't have to listen to the two of you constantly begging me."

"Wow Y/N spoken like a true alcoholic," Lev laughs.

You roll your eyes in annoyance as you take the first sip. As the liquid passes through your throat, you shake your head roughly from the sour taste.

📷

"And then when I did see Y/N last night, she bitched me out for having 'bad pick-up lines'," Yaku exclaims as he imitates you.

"They were super inappropriate! None of those girls were going to respond well to those lines so I was just trying to help!"

You look over at Lev and notice that he's making some kind of weird, mixed expression.

"Give me an example," Lev finally speaks, "I'll tell you if it's crap or not."

"Alright, alright," Yaku says as he shifts himself to get more comfortable and turns a bit towards Lev, "I'm not into watching sunsets, but... I'd love to see you go down."

You do your best not to break out in laughter but once you see the serious look on Yaku's face and the confusion on Lev's, you can't hold it in.

"Lev," you say as your laughter dies down, "opinion?"

"I, uh, I don't think you should start out by telling a girl you want to see her face on your, uh..."

"Well then let's see you do one!" Yaku growls as he starts to slur his words.

Lev looks over at you for a split second before turning his attention to Yaku. He looks his roommate dead in the eye as he speaks.

"Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll give it back."

You squeal in excitement from Lev's cute line. In your enthusiasm, you fail to see Yaku and Lev staring at each other for a moment before Yaku turns to face you, giving you a serious glare.

"Seriously? You liked that better than mine?" he says angrily while crossing his arm.

As you about to answer, a banging comes from the door once more.

"I'll frickin get it," Yaku mumbles as he gets up.

Excited, you get up as well.

"Lev I'm gonna try your line on the person who's at the door," you attempt to whisper to him.

He gives you a confused look, but lets you go as you stumble over to the door.

"Kuroo!" you exclaim as you see the black-haired male in the doorway.

You immediately pull him in, failing to notice anyone else around you.

"I've gotta tell you something!"

You pull Kuroo very close to your body and let out a big smile as he looks down at you.

"I thought you didn't like drinking, Y/N," he says skeptically.

"Well apparently I have bad friends who peer pressure me but that's not the point!" you retort quickly as you put your hands on his shoulder.

You then happily use Lev's pick-up line on Kuroo, who responds with a big smirk. Kuroo leans to the side, revealing another figure behind him. Kenma's.

As you watch Kenma observe you with confusion written all over his face, you feel your cheeks heat up from embarrassment.

"Way to hit on your boyfriend's best friend right in front of him," Lev chuckles.

You then realize your hands are still placed on Kuroo and immediately remove them. Looking over to Lev, you scowl at him before reminding them that you aren't dating Kenma.

You sit down as you pout, crossing your arms and watching as Lev quietly continues to tease you.

Suddenly you feel clothes brush against yours and you turn to see Kenma sitting right next to you.

"Oi Kenma," Kuroo calls as he sits down as well, "how come you're so quiet? You usually get mad when somebody says that to you."

"Because Y/N and I aren't dating and I don't want to continue repeating myself."

Kuroo mumbles to Yaku and Lev, probably about the two of you, but your focus is too stuck on Kenma. You can feel Kenma's hand placed on your lower back as he whispers to you.

"You alright?" he asks with concern in his tone.

"Fine," you mumble as you lean your head onto his shoulder.

You close your eyes as you relax in the moment. Once you open them again, you see the other three staring at what you're doing.

Immediately you sit back up and resume your defensive position.

"Is there literally anything else we can do besides continuing to talk about me and Kenma?"

[hookedonapirate]

The Princess and Her Sultan

Summary: Crown princess Emma of Misthaven is second in line to the throne, her brother Leopold ll being the first, but her parents see her with a future as a great ruler. King Rumpelstiltskin of neighboring land, strikes a deal with King David, promising to uphold the peace between the kingdoms if Emma marries Prince Baelfire. With the promise of his daughter becoming future queen of the Dark Kingdom, David accepts reluctantly.

Before her wedding day, the princess is kidnapped and taken overseas. She is sold as a slave to a palace where Crown Prince Killian of Neverland ascends his father’s throne and is sworn in as Sultan. Meanwhile, Killian’s mother pressures him to sire a prince and presents him with gifts for his birthday, one of them including a blonde princess from Misthaven. Dazzled by Emma’s charm, intelligence and beauty, he summons her to his bedchambers every night and eventually finds himself casting aside his harem and centuries of tradition.  

A/N: I wanted to clear something up because I think people may have misinterpreted what I wrote, which is my fault because of what POV it was in and the order of the scenes, but I promise there is a reason to my madness. So, what I'm talking about it is, a reviewer had said my notes about Killian taking sterile concubines didn't match what I wrote in the last chapter. That may be true, but what was said about it in the chapter was not coming from me as the narrator, it came from James in Emma's POV. Just because Kira thinks Killian would ask the concubines to become sterile doesn't mean he would, it was just one of her fears because normally she brings him what he wants, and now she wants him to sire a prince, and she doesn't want anything to get in the way of her plans. There is a scene in the next chapter where this is clarified, but because I think I had upset a few over this issue and probably lost some readers because of it, I felt it needed to be said. Honestly, I didn't think really think about it when I wrote it, and anyone who reads my other stories knows that I always have a tendency to write Killian as over the top perfect because that's how I view him, so I never intend to write him as a character who puts a bad taste in anyone's mouth. 

Hopefully, this puts people who were concerned about it at ease, but if anyone has questions about this or anything else regarding this fic, please don't hesitate to leave a comment or shoot me a pm. I had originally wanted to write the women to be naturally sterile, but that was something rare back then, but I realize that sometimes sticking to writing what is realistic is not always the best route to take. 

Thank you @gingerchangeling for your wonderful suggestions and ideas for this story, and also @ilovemesomekillianjones for gifting me with your wonderful editing skills at. I also want to give a shout out to @onceuponaprincessworld for being my sounding board, constant cheerleader and good friend, thank you, darling! This story wouldn’t be the same without these lovely ladies!

And all of you have been so supportive and awesome, thank you all for following along and for your feedback!

Rated: Explicit

AO3 l FF.N I Prologue l Ch 1 l Ch 2 l Ch 3 l Ch 4

Chapter 5

When Emma rushes back to the women’s quarters before she has to be present at dinner with the other concubines, she’s completely and utterly smitten for the Sultan. She’s never felt like this, her skin is flushed, her heart doing a pitter-patter in her chest and her head is spinning. She may have to change her strategy a bit because she knows she won't have to fake any affection she shows the Sultan. The intensity of their kiss is something she couldn't fake if she had truly tried. A passionate, toe-curling kiss was something she’d only heard about from her mother and the maids at the castle. It was something Emma had only dreamt about. And the fact that the Sultan is genuinely kind and sweet and the most handsome man she's ever seen, is a complete game changer. He is all the things Baelfire is not. She'd expected the Sultan to treat her as his property, she could've only imagined that if he'd seen a naked concubine outside of the women's quarters, he'd have raped her and had her beaten, but instead he had asked permission to kiss her and promised to only have her in his bedchambers when the time was right. Emma is still perplexed by this. Obviously, she has formed a very false and narrow-minded opinion about him before ever meeting him.

She has to banish the smile from her lips when she slips into her oda to change out of her damp clothes. She's relieved to find it empty, but to her surprise, Elsa emerges from the curtain before Emma can fetch a dry outfit.

“Where have you been, Emma?” Elsa asks curiously, scanning her clothes and hair before meeting Emma’s gaze.

“Oh, I was just in the bathing area,” Emma replies nonchalantly as she retrieves some dry clothes from her cupboard which is located behind the bottom half of the wall paneling next to her bed where her personal belongings are stored. “I was afraid I'd be late for dinner, so I left in a hurry without even bothering to dry off.” When she turns to face her roommate again, she fears the silver blonde is on to her, judging by her narrowed eyes and questioning half-smirk.

Elsa crosses her arms over her chest, casually making her way towards Emma. “So, what's it like to bathe outside the harem?”

Emma gapes at her friend in surprise. She thought she'd been careful enough to not be seen whenever she'd snuck off. “How do you know I left the harem?”

Elsa gives a soft, casual shrug. “I just assumed since I saw you leaving one day. I followed you to a room and you disappeared into it, so I crept up to the door and saw you at a chess table.”

Emma’s heart flutters in panic “You saw that?”

Elsa nods. “I thought it was odd because there was no one else in the room with you. Were you playing against yourself?”

Emma shakes her head, her eyes laced with apology for not telling Elsa of her escapades. “No, I’ve been playing against the Sultan,” she murmurs, placing the fresh clothes on the bed. She sits next to the neatly folded fabrics, sighing as she looks up at Elsa in shame. “I have been playing chess since I was young so when I saw the chessboard for the first time, it tempted me. Only then did I find out it was the Sultan’s chess game, for it is in his study.” Emma looks down, fingering the material of the dress she will be changing into. “You will not tell anyone, will you?”

Elsa shakes her head. “Of course not. You’re my friend and I do not wish for you to get into trouble,” she assures Emma and lays a hand on her arm. Emma peers up at her, offering a gracious smile.

“Thank you, Elsa.”

“Of course.” A wide grin blossoms over Elsa’s lips, her eyes lighting up with intrigue. “Have you met the Sultan since you’ve been going into his study? Have you ever caught him in there, or has he ever caught you?”

Emma blushes and smiles, shaking her head. “No, he is never around when I enter the room.”

Elsa quirks a brow, a mixture of curiosity and confusion etched in her features. “If you’ve never met him, then why were you smiling when you returned?”

Emma was hoping her friend would not inquire about that, but Emma doesn’t see any reason not to tell her, about the pool anyway. “You promise you won’t say anything?”

“I promise I won’t.”

“I was smiling because I felt freer than I had in months,” Emma claims, which isn’t a complete lie. “I was in one of the gardens when I found a pool. I bathed by myself for the first time since we were brought here.”

Elsa’s mouth opens in a gasp as she plops on the bed, sitting next to Emma. “So that's why your clothes are damp?! Oh, how lucky you are!” Elsa chants enthusiastically. “Where is this pool? Perhaps I will go, too.”

“But you might get in trouble,” Emma laughs.

“So will you!” Elsa exclaims, playfully swatting her shoulder.

“Okay, maybe I will show you one day.”

Elsa claps her hands in excitement. “Thank you, Emma, I look forward to it.”

They’re so immersed in conversation they do not realize someone is listening on the other side of the curtain. The eavesdropper casts a shadow over the red fabric, which goes unnoticed by the gediklis because they are facing away from the curtain. The shadow disappears once they change the topic of conversation and get ready for dinner.

~*~

The early autumn sun is strong, and the fresh breeze does nothing to cool him down or help with the sweat forming at his hairline. The unabating sounds of metal clanging against metal resonate throughout the courtyard, the sunlight’s reflection bouncing off the blades as the two men attack and parry, swinging and blocking, jabbing and thwarting each other’s movements. They move with expert precision, each ducking and twisting when necessary to avoid the path of the other blade.

Killian remembers when he’d held his first sword in his hands, even though he was too young to truly learn much—he was not yet five years old, and he was clumsy back then, for his fingers were small, his muscles weak and the sword heavy. But Killian was the grandson of a Sultan and if Sultans knew anything, it was determination, strength—both physically and emotionally—and how to wield a sword. Killian not only wanted to learn how to use it, but he also needed to learn it.

It meant that for his weakness as a young lad, he had quickly learned what to do with a sword. He quickly learned what it meant to become strong and fight like a Sultan. And yet, at the moment, he feels very weak, though not physically weak; his mind is constantly drifting off to visions of green eyes and golden hair. Emma’s vibrant smile, her beautiful breasts, her alluring scent and the taste of her lips drown him, weakening every part of him.

James swings his sword so quickly, Killian doesn't have enough time to block him, and instead, the Sultan’s sword is knocked out of his hand. Soaring through the air, it lands in the grass as Killian leaps back to avoid the end of James’ blade, falling to the ground with a groan.

James stands over him, holding the point of the blade at Killian’s neck as the Sultan raises his hands in surrender. “You were great with a sword when you were a child.”

Killian frowns at him. “Your words cut like a sword.”

James offers a grin as he removes the blade from the Sultan’s neck and extends his hand, helping Killian off the ground. “You’re still pretty great at it.”

Killian gives in to a laugh. “You’re not so bad yourself. No other man would be able to send me to my back. This moment makes me glad I am not your enemy.”

“I am glad as well,” his concierge chuckles. “Normally, I would not be so lucky to send you on your back. That is what your concubines are for, Your Majesty, is it not?” he teases as they sheath their swords and find a shady spot underneath a fig tree. They relax in the grass where Pages bring them olives, cheese and sherberts. Every day, he and James either engage in sword practice at the palace or travel to the Meydan with their arrows and spears for target practice.

“Indeed you're right,” Killian chuckles, anxious for one concubine, in particular, to have him on his back as she rides him into oblivion.

James drains his silver goblet and selects an olive, chewing it slowly and childishly spitting out the pit into the chalice. “Your Majesty, tell me what troubles you.”

Killian glances at James, catching a knowing smirk on his face. A rosy blush spreads over the Sultan’s cheeks as he scratches behind his ear, a smile threatening his lips. “What gave me away?”

There’s mirth dancing in James’ eyes as he regards the Sultan with a quirked brow. “The better question is what hasn’t given you away .”

Killian takes a sip from his chalice, deciding what he shall divulge to his concierge. The most James knows at this point is that Killian has been playing anonymous chess with one of his concubines, and there is really no reason not to tell him, except he isn't fond of anyone knowing how much Emma has affected him over such a short period of time.

“Since when are you hesitant?” he asks playfully, mocking Killian’s words during a conversation they had a while back.

Killian chuckles and shakes his head. “I am not hesitant… it’s just…”

James playfully cocks a brow and waits for him to speak, but Killian is still uncertain as to how he can precisely explain in words the thoughts endlessly roving his mind. He’s not really sure what to say, which is unheard of for him. He is never at a loss for words like this. He speaks with such confidence and passion at the council meetings in front of his army officers. Killian had told them not too long ago he would one day rule the seven seas, and yet here he is, hesitant to speak of his feelings for a woman to his closest friend. “My apologies, you are so confident today,” James jokes with a soft chuckle.

Killian sighs in defeat as the soft breeze washes over him. “I met the woman I’ve been playing chess with.” The words leave his lips much more weakly than he had intended, and he looks down, picking up an olive and studying it carefully to avoid eye contact with James.

“So she is indeed a woman?”

Killian lifts his gaze and pops the olive in his mouth, carefully removing the pit and discarding it on the silver tray. “She is. Her name is Emma.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard of her from Ruby. She is the one who challenged your partisan policy.”

Killian’s eyes dart to his concierge, although he shouldn’t be surprised. Of course, a woman who dares enter his study would also be daring enough to speak against his policies. “She is the same person?”

“Yes, she is one of the lush gifts your mother will present to you on your birthday.”

“Ah, I see,” Killian nods, trying to remain impassive when in reality, he already knows of his gifts and is beyond excited to have the honor of being graced with his blonde concubine’s presence at his birthday fete.

Nemo had informed him of the virgin gifts the Valide Sultan had requested from him and the great lengths the Chief Eunuch had gone to procure them. He had ensured Killian they were not sterile. Other than that small bit of information, Nemo hadn’t said much about them, only that they were four new gediklis in training, and Killian would not meet them until his birthday. At first, the Sultan had not been very welcoming to the idea of taking concubines who were capable of bearing children, to his bed; he would’ve rather gone to his bed alone to save himself from another possible heartache. He also hadn’t shown favor to the idea of his mother making decisions for him and putting more pressure on him to sire an heir, but that was before he’d met Emma and had come to the conclusion that he wants to start a family.

“Does it disappoint you knowing she is challenging your policies?” James asks, pulling Killian from his revery.

“Not in the least.” A smirk threatens Killian’s lips; if possible, he is even more intrigued by his swan.

James studies him with curiosity. “Do tell how you met her in person, Your Majesty.”

Killian blushes profusely, a bashful smile spreading across his lips as he casts a timid glance at James. “You cannot tell anyone else of this.”

His concierge shakes his head. “Of course I won’t, Your Majesty.”

Killian’s breath quivers as he exhales slowly. “I met her yesterday, she was outside the harem, swimming in the pool.”

A mixture of shock and fascination washes over his face. “Is that so? She does like to test the limits of the palace, does she not?”

“Aye, she does.”

“And what happened when you found her in the pool? How did you know it was your mystery opponent?”

Killian smirks. “I had the privilege of joining her and we spoke briefly before she gave her identity away. She mentioned the gardens, so I told her gardening was my favorite pastime, and she let it slip that she thought chess was my favorite pastime instead.”

James opens his mouth, his eyes dancing with bemusement. “And how did you respond?”

“She feared I would punish her, and perhaps I should have, but James, how could I punish someone who challenges me at a very compelling game of chess? She is currently winning, so I took a break from the game to consider my next move carefully.”

“She is very brave, I'll give her that.”

“She is,” Killian nods in agreement, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips, “and I must admit, her bravery is very attractive. Where did she come from?”

“She’s from Misthaven.”

“Misthaven?” Killian asks, a slow smile curving his lips. “From your homeland?”

James gives a nod. “Yes, and she's a princess, Your Majesty, or so I was told. I was taken from Misthaven long before she was born.”

“A princess?” he parrots, arching a brow. It seems his swan continues to surprise him.

“Yes.” James sends a questioning glance, scrutinizing the Sultan carefully. “So tell me, Your Majesty, how do you feel about the princess?”

Killian’s smile widens, taking over his entire face. “She is beautiful and charming and smart.”

“That I’ve gathered, but how do you feel about her?” James asks again.

“You would really like to know?”

James gives a nod, a smile gracing his lips. “Do tell, Your Majesty.”

Killian has to sift through his thoughts a moment before he can possibly begin to supply an answer. He’s not even entirely sure how he feels about the blonde temptress, or at least he’s not sure how to describe his feelings in words. He lets his mind drift off to the previous afternoon when he’d seen her naked in the pool, and how it felt to be in the presence of his mysterious opponent upon discovering this lovely woman was the same person. He also thinks about his moment of clarity in the pool when she’d left.

“Well…” Killian pauses when his voice cracks, and he runs a hand through his hair, clearing his throat, hoping he can compose himself as he speaks of his feelings for her. “When I saw her, she was naked and her body was exquisite.” A smile pulls at his lips as he stares off into space with visions of her stunning figure on his mind. “My heart was racing, and I felt as if I was drowning. Even though I was above water, I could not breathe. Now I can’t stop thinking about the lovely curves of her body, but I know I must wait to have her until my birthday, out of respect for my mother.” Killian looks over at James and sees him shifting uncomfortably. The Sultan frowns in confusion. “Tell me, my head concierge, why does this topic discomfort you so? Are you not the one who inquired about it?”

James blushes, offing a small smile. “Apologies, Your Majesty, but since she was brought here to the palace as not only a gift for you, but a possible future Kadin, I have no doubt she is exquisite, so I wish to hear more of how you feel about her, rather than her physical beauty.”

Killian nods in understanding, and suddenly the blush floods his cheeks once again.

“There you are blushing again,” James taunts him. “Tell me why she makes you blush.”

The Sultan chuckles. James is right; Killian seems to blush every time he thinks about how he feels about her. He takes a deep breath before answering. “We shared a kiss,” he admits, suddenly becoming shy again. “It was…” He blows out a breath, his mind frazzled from simply thinking about it. “It was life-changing,” is the only way Killian can honestly describe it. “And since then, I have felt… I've felt like for the first time since Milah, I can find love again. I can finally begin to think of starting a family.” He tears up at the idea and looks over at James, afraid of his concierge’s reaction, although he shouldn't be. He knows James only wants him to be happy.

A slow grin creeps across James’ lips. “You can, Your Grace, and you are on your way there. This woman is already affecting you, I could tell before you spoke a word of her.”

Killian raises a brow, surprised. “You could?”

“Well yes,” he chuckles. “I have known you for many years, and never have you allowed me to win at sword practice. Nor have you ever been at a loss for words, so yes I could sense a change.”

“Apologies, my friend.”

Both men push themselves up, ready to head inside the palace.

“Please, do not apologize, I am glad you are finally opening your heart up to the possibilities that await you.”

“Thank you, James.” Killian smiles appreciatively and draws his concierge into a hug. He is grateful for James and the brotherhood they have formed. He is thankful he still has someone to lean on after losing his blood brother and father, and he hopes that one day, the Sultan after him will also have a brother to lean on, whether he is blood or not.

He pats his concierge on the back, and James’ features are creased with confusion as they break the hug. “I would like to say you’re welcome, but I’m not so sure what you are thanking me for, Your Majesty.”

“For making me see clearly again. I have done everything in my power to avoid getting close to a woman again, but you have reminded me why it is important to start a family... and not because I do not yet have an heir, but because I want my children to become as close as you and I are, as close as Liam and I were. I want them to lean on one another, not start rivalries for the throne.” He looks at James and smiles. “You have always been there for me, and I want my children to be there for one another, too.”

“And I will always be there for you,” James promises sincerely, raising his hand to gently squeeze the Sultan’s shoulder. “You will be an amazing father, so I have no doubt you will teach them the importance of family.”

“Thank you, James.”

They walk casually inside the palace, discussing another hunting trip to occupy Killian so he can think of his swan without being tempted to seek her out before his birthday. But before they go their separate ways to prepare for the trip, James turns to look at Killian once more.

“Tell me one more thing, Your Majesty.”

Killian looks over at him, lifting a brow. “What is it you wish to know?”

“How will you continue the chess match?”

A mischievous smile crosses Killian's lips. That is a question he can easily answer, for he knows precisely how to continue it.

~*~

After Emma’s schooling for the day, she heads to the Sultan’s study with butterflies fluttering around her stomach. It’s been three weeks since she had seen the Sultan at the pool, but she hadn’t been able to find an opportune time to leave the harem without anyone seeing her, and she is hoping—hoping might be an understatement—no, she is beyond anxious to see whether the Sultan has finally responded to her previous move or not. She had been too enamored by him and not brave enough, if she’s being honest, to ask why he has not made his next move yet.

Emma steps into the room and approaches the chessboard. Her eyes widen as she scans the board. She is amazed beyond belief, her mouth falling agape, and she has to blink a few times to make sure she is seeing the board correctly. He has left his king wide open for her. Normally she'd think it’s a trap, but once Emma makes this move, the Sultan will be done for, since she can easily sweep in and checkmate his king, claiming her victory. He has let her win. But why? For what purpose? Could he be trying to send her an abstruse message? But what message? Perhaps he is trying to tell her he surrenders to her? And by that, he is also telling her he is surrendering his heart? Or perhaps he is testing her to see if she is willing to surrender herself to him by not taking his king, and then he will sweep in and take her king after she leaves his white one be.

Emma is confused as to how to proceed. She thinks about it for a long while, her lips pursing together as she ponders what to do. If Emma surrenders to him, he will have the upper hand and all of her efforts will have been wasted, but if she wins, she will prove to him she has power over him, and perhaps he will be turned off by her insolence, and he will seek out another concubine? Shall she take that risk? After all, she doesn't wish to be intimidated by him nor feared by him. As James had said, if Killian does not see what value she possesses then he is foolish.

Emma is not vain by any means, but she is well aware of the effect she’s had on men in the past. They had desired her and would’ve gladly taken Baelfire’s place to be married to her. She even thought, at one point, Graham was one of those men. He was a friend or at least pretended to be, but she’d often wondered whether his feelings for her were purely platonic or something more. Emma’s features grow solemn. Thinking about the man who’d betrayed her makes her shiver.

The last time she’s trusted a man, he had let her down. She has put much faith in her uncle and sees her father in him, yet she still doesn't know if he is truly trustworthy or not, though she really wants to believe he is. Emma is not one to back down from a challenge though. Her uncle is challenging her to steal the Sultan’s heart and the Sultan is challenging her to steal his king and simultaneously his own heart. Or so she hopes.

After several moments of internal debate, Emma finally makes a decision. She reaches for her black queen, and as she starts to move the piece, the door flies open, causing Emma to whirl her head around.

Standing at the doorway are Nemo and two guards. Emma releases the game piece, her eyes widening as she stands up. How did they know she was in here? “My apologies for leaving the Harem, I’m afraid I have gotten lost.”

“I’m sorry Emma, but we have been ordered to bring you to the Valide Sultan.”

She nods cooperatively, swallowing thickly. She’d expected this would happen eventually; it's the risk she’s been taking by leaving the harem and entering the Sultan’s study. “Of course.” She quickly moves to the corridor, and with a guard on each side and the chief eunuch following behind her, she wonders how the Valide Sultan knew she was not in the harem. She thought Elsa was the only one who knew. Perhaps someone had noticed she was missing and went searching for her. Emma's thoughts are put on pause for the time being as they reach the harem courtyard where Kira appears to be very angry.

“My Sultana, I am very sorry,” Emma apologizes sincerely, bowing her head. “I wandered off too far and lost my way.”

The woman moves swiftly and lifts Emma’s chin to look her in the eye. “That is enough lies. You have intentionally disobeyed the rules bestowed upon you. Leaving the harem, walking down the golden road without my son’s summons and entering his study?” Kira scoffs, her features twisting in disgust as she releases Emma's chin. “You may be beautiful, but beauty fades over time. And Nemo tells me you have a razor-sharp mind and have excelled in your studies, but intelligence will not warm the Sultan’s bed. We don’t need clever, we need well-behaved, and you are certainly not.”

“But I am well-behaved, Your Majesty, I am just not accustomed to the cloistered life of the palace. I will try harder, I promise.”

“I don’t care for your excuses!” she shouts, her sharp tone startling Emma. “You have no doubt been drummed with the expectations of the palace and are clearly aware of what is forbidden, where you can go and where you cannot! You want to venture off wherever you please, perhaps you will enjoy venturing off to the dungeon.” She looks at the guards and tilts her head towards Emma. “Get rid of her.”

Panic is rippling through her as the guards grab her arms. If Emma's in the dungeon, how is she supposed to dance for the Sultan on his birthday, which is in two days? If she's not there for the ceremony, he will undoubtedly choose someone else to take to his bed, someone who could potentially give him a prince, and her plans will be ruined. Emma's eyes widen in panic as she looks around, seeing Mother Superior and other servants and eunuchs who, judging by their puzzled expressions, clearly do not agree. There is a woman standing beside the Sultana, whom, as her elegant clothing suggests, Emma presumes is the sister of the Sultan she’s heard about, but the young woman appears to be impassive to the whole situation.

“But Your Majesty, she is a gift for the Sultan’s birthday, as you have asked me to procure.” Nemo reminds her in a stern tone, and although he is questioning her orders and has a very strong position as Chief Eunuch, Emma can sense he is afraid of Kira. A smile almost graces Emma’s lips as she looks at him, thankful he is speaking up for her. She prays this will convince Kira, for the Chief Eunuch is correct��the entire reason for Emma being here is so she can be presented on the Sultan’s birthday with hopes of giving him a prince.

“I asked you to bring me the best concubines you could find and you have done a fine job with the others, but unfortunately you have selected this woman poorly. Find an odalisque to take her place.”

Nemo’s fear floats to the surface as he looks at Emma, for he knows she will be impossible to replace. “But my Sultana—”

“Do not argue with me!” Kira snaps angrily. “Take her down to the dungeon and lock her up, or your manhood will not be the only thing you are missing!”

Nemo looks like he has just swallowed his tongue as he nods his compliance. “Yes, my Sultana.” He turns to the guards, gesturing for them to move. “You heard our Sultana, take the girl to the dungeon.”

Emma squirms against them as they pull her out of the courtyard.

“No, you can’t do this to me!” she screams. “Pleeeease! Let me go!”

The Valide Sultan pays her no mind and dismisses the staff from the courtyard. Following behind her mother, Regina has the hint of a smirk on her face, for she is the one who had overheard Emma’s conversation with another concubine about leaving the harem, and waited to witness her leaving with her own two eyes before informing her mother. If this little slave girl thinks she can come and go from the harem and do as she pleases, she is sadly mistaken.

~*~

The day has finally come. It's his birthday, and he's not sure he's been this excited in all his existence. Not only of the possibilities of a future with the swan girl from his harem but also the conclusion of the chess game they've been engaging in. He is anxious to see how she's responded. He had made the move weeks ago before fleeing from the palace for another hunting trip with James. He had been too afraid he’d be tempted to seek her out after their encounter at the pool. Furthermore, he doesn't wish to take another woman to his bed in order to cool the lust he feels for Emma.

As a young Neverland prince, he had been taught the ways of women and had grown to be a healthy and virile man, as Sultans normally are, but unlike his father, Killian has sustained some self-control and discipline when it comes to physical intimacy. Thank the Gods he has, because, after the pool incident with Emma, his patience to take her to his bed is wearing thin. And he had arrived at the stark conclusion that no other concubine will be enough to quell the ache he feels for the blonde houri, so why bother trying when he knows all attempts will prove to be futile? He’d made a promise to himself that not only will Emma be the first maiden he will take to his bed as Sultan, but she will be his first wife, and he doesn’t plan on breaking that promise.

Killian steps into his study and strides over to the chess board, scanning it over. His heart sinks when he sees all of the black pieces are still intact, apart for one piece that is slightly off-kilter. He wonders what had happened. Did she hear someone coming and pause the game to hide? Has she been unable to return from the harem since then? Or did she simply decide not to continue the game with him?

He moves to the door, hauling it open, but pauses before he leaves, turning towards the chess table once more, his eyes studying the piece that had been slightly moved. He’d left his king open, simultaneously laying his heart on the line for her, and returned, hoping she would have responded, hoping she would have laid her heart on the line for him as well. What holds her back from doing so?

Killian steps out of the room and heads down the corridor to his private bath to wash off the smell of sweat, horses and forest from his skin as he ponders the question eating at him. Perhaps it’s the first scenario, and she's been too busy preparing for the ceremony that requires his presence in the Imperial Hall tonight, to return to the game. His mother has, undoubtedly, imposed a mountain of pressure on Emma, the other maidens as well as the servants of the palace to make the event seamless. And perhaps Emma has been too overwhelmed with the expectations of the ceremony and the events that may proceed. Though he is hardly present in the harem, he knows very well of the responsibility drummed into every concubine who enters the harem, to please the Sultan. For someone who’s never been intimate with another, let alone a Sultan, the prospect of the first time can be very frightening to think about. He imagines Emma’s mind is too frazzled with all of these things to worry about a silly chess game.

Yes, he's sure, or at least hopes those are the reasons why his lovely swan has not returned to finish the move.

Tagging: @courtorderedcake@teamhook @onceuponaprincessworld @nikkiemms @followbatb @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @snowbellewells @artistic-writer @ultraluckycatnd @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @lovepurplepumpkins @kiwistreetswan @therooksshiningknight @deathbycaptainswan @tiganasummertree @superchocovian @emeraldwitches

[wwxyoudumbass]

Okay

Hermione Granger was spending some quality time with her best friend, Harry Potter. Which translates to homework, of course.

"I'm not an owl, Harry," she said, exasperated.

Harry smiled. He was almost done with his essay. "Okay, I'll tell him when I see him. Where is he, anyway?"

Hermione looked up at him. "He's with Ginny, I think."

Harry adjusted his round glasses awkwardly. He set down his eagle-feather quill, saying, "Hey Hermione, d'you think Ron's still mad at me?"

"No, he's not."

Having finished her essay, she began gathering up her things, talking as if she'd been anticipating this talk. "But can you really blame him if he was, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, effectively saying, 'I guess.' He looked up at her, in 'are YOU still mad?'

Hermione's eyes weakly fluttered from his face to her hands. Then, she put a very awkward hand on his shoulder, attempting an odd gesture of 'we ok, bruv.'

Harry couldn't have possibly reigned in the smile that spilled from him. He didn't even ask for a look at her essay, and was done pretty soon after. We often forget how much our friends' reassurance and their validation matters, don't we?

Just as Harry was wrapping things up, he found a visibly distressed Ron entering the Common Room, followed by an apparently nonchalant but stiff-necked Draco. Harry internally sighed. He didn't know which was the bigger mistake: telling Ron and Hermione about the two of them, or telling Draco he'd told them about the two of them.

Draco went straight for the Slytherin Section, giving Harry a small smile and frowning at Luna, who seemed extremely surprised to find Draco capable of, well, a smile. Harry reigned in his laughter as Ron walked up to him.

"What's up with the g–"

Ron checked himself in time, his eyes flickering towards Harry, who only grinned in response and Ron relaxed a fraction.

Hermione, her eyes artificially excited, her lips thinned into a line, said, "Harry's taking us out, Ron. To Hogsmeade, tonight." Ron's eyes widened in mild surprise, only to be deflated when she added "...with Malfoy."

Ron seemed to be suddenly aware that they were in the common room surrounded by their peers, and chose his words carefully.

"Harry, are you fucking serious."

Harry blinked twice at Ron, and then at Hermione, pleading her to make his case. She sighed. "What, Ron, you thought this was never going to happen?"

"No!" He looked between the two of them, bewildered, "No, of course not, why would I even-"

"-because I'm your best friend and you love me?" Harry said, eyebrows reaching up to disappear in his hair.

Well Ron couldn't counter that, so with drooping shoulders, he muttered, "Ugh, a'right." He glanced down at their books, his eyes lighting up, and said, "Hermione, can I-"

"-No, you may not, Ron, you're an adult." She turned to Harry, eyes wide and lips thinned, "Tell us about him."

"What?" Harry said, flushed, dumbfounded.

"Well you want us to meet him, don't you," said Ron, "then tell us something about him. You know, nice happy death-eater-gone-good things to keep us from murdering him, that kind of stuff."

"Yes," said Hermione, "tell us exactly how embarrassed you want us to be, when we meet your boyfriend, Harry."

Ron cast a dreamy-eyed sideways glance at Hermione, in a 'damn, I want to kiss her right now.'

Harry's eyebrows shot up, and then shrank down, and all he could come up with was, "Just.. keep in mind that he doesn't always mean what he says. Actually, half the times, he says the opposite of what he wants to say. There's a depth to him, but-" he looked up to see his friends enjoying this a bit too much and felt his face heat up. "Ugh, you know what, you'll be fine. It can't be THAT bad."

...

Fifteen minutes had passed in silence. Or perhaps it had been five; it felt like forever, anyway.

They were in Harry and Ron's room, eating from takeaways. It was a huge relief they hadn't gone outside, because that would've been a thousand times more awkward. Or not, Harry thought, they could at least have filled the conversation with other things, like... weather?

Hermione sat in one of the chairs by the table while Ron was laid out on his bed, his parcel barely opened in his hand.

Draco was staring daggers at Harry, sitting in a very Malfoy-like fashion on the edge of Harry's bed, picking at his packed food while making faces at it. He tried hard to not let his embarrassment show; he'd fucked Harry Potter on this very bed for more than a hundred times now.

Harry, sitting up against the wall on his bed beside Draco, kept switching between rolling his eyes at Draco, glaring at all the three of them, and putting a morsel in his mouth.

Ron and Hermione were having their loudest eye-talks so far. Both Harry and Hermione had attempted to begin a conversation, both having failed miserably. Harry wasn't about to say one more word, but then an idea came to him.

"Let's say good things about each other."

Ron looked up at him in a 'we broke you didn't we' and Hermione in a 'okay, what now.' And Draco, well Draco was a full 'I'm murdering you for this as it is, do you WANT a painful death?'

"I mean," said Harry, swallowing nervously, "let's say what we like the most about each other. I'll go first. I'll say something about Ron. Ron... Ron is um, a good friend. First year– in the first year, he sacrificed himself in the Chess Game, and he's done it again and again for everyone he loves. He cares about you and protects you and loves you no matter what."

When Harry stopped rambling, he'd made it abundantly clear that this was happening. Draco went from killing mode to mild surprise to panic mode, having realised that he'll have to take a turn. Hermione went from a 'this is bad, this is very very bad' to an 'interesting', and Ron went from a 'you're a bastard Harry Potter' to an 'I love you Harry Potter and I'll jump in this pit of death for you, mate.'

Meanwhile, they chewed and picked at their food.

"Okay," said Ron, swallowing, after a minute of silence. "I'll go now. Malfoy. You're good at pissing people off. I hate you for that, and you're a git as far as I'm concerned, but I'd give an eye anyday to be as mean as you can be."

Draco glanced at Ron in a death stare, which softened a fraction, and his thin line of a mouth curved into a self-satisfied smirk. "Why thanks, Weasley. But you know full well that that's never happening, right."

He promptly returned to his food, taking his first real bite.

"Hey! I was trying to―" Ron was cut off by Hermione and had to content himself with scowling at Draco.

"―Ron," said Hermione, a bit too loud, unwilling to let go of this last straw. "You're sweet, caring and protective of those you love, and I love you for that." Her eyes shone brightly at him and they had a talk wildly different from the earlier ones.

Draco looked back at Harry in a 'ew.'

"You go now," said Harry, his grin full of mirth. "Say something you like about Hermione."

"Fuck off, Potter." A moment later he said, "You, I choose you. You're... better."

"―and you're weird," said Ron, smirking. He received two glares and an eye roll in reply to that, and said, "But there has to be a depth to it, so Mr. Malfoy, do go on, please."

Harry narrowed his eyes at him and he shrugged innocently.

Draco had meant it to be something quick and easy, but what escaped him left everyone stunned, including himself.

"Harry," said Draco, "is better. Better than me, I mean." He looked around, nervous, then rolled his eyes decisively. "Where I'd be just fine being safe or keeping my people safe, he'd go out to fight - and get hexed, but still - he's annoyingly brave. And he's good, he's so rubbishly good that he doesn't even know how rare he is." Draco eased out of his stiff position, and leaned back over the bed, sliding towards Harry, taking his hand in his own. "I mean, he loves ME. Even before I wasn't very popular but after the war - he loves me and I don't know why, but he does, because that's what Harry does, right. He'll love you and if he loves you it'll be without conditions. That's who he is, and he's precious," he turned to his boyfriend, "and I love you, Harry."

They kissed. They hadn't said it before. They'd been dating for more than six months now, and they knew it but they hadn't said it. Yet. And it felt fucking good to say it, Draco thought, and he wanted to say it over and over again.

Ron took one look at Harry, and then at Hermione. He shrugged. 'So they're in love now. And Malfoy loves Harry. It's all fucking normal, isn't it.' She smiled at him and he was forced to return it, flushing a little.

And so they came full circle back to the same awkwardness and cringe-exciting attempts at dialogue, but little did they know what awaited them. Little did they know of the proposals and engagements and marriages and children and pain and love their future held. Little did they know how okay were about to be, and that okay is the best there is.

[godsandvillainsrpg-blog]

Congratulations, JULIE! You have been accepted as JAE-SEUNG KWON.

Note from Admin Jade: Your app absolutely screamed Jae-Seung. This Machiavellian serpent absolutely came to life in your app from the very first word to the very last. You did such a wonderful job of capturing the core of his essence — yes, he has the capability to know better, or even to truly care at times, but he’s never had the desire; that’s something losers resort to, after they’ve accepted defeat. But Jae doesn’t accept defeat, and you nailed his dangerous cocktail of snake-like charms and hedonism, sprinkled with the immaturity of a boy who’s never had to play by any rules but his own. I’m so excited to watch the way you bring Jae-Seung onto the dash, and I can’t wait to see what kind of trouble he’ll stir up for everyone!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Hi, my name is Julie.

Age: I’m 23 years old.

Preferred Pronouns:  she/her.

Timezone: GMT+1 (love from France).

Activity Level: For activity I’d give myself an 8/10 ? I’m usually trying to be on each day for an hour at least. I do have my yoga classes on Monday and Thursday but that’s only like an hour, and I have the odd exception with homework (when it’s school time) or if I decide to have a social life etc. I’ll be super active if I have not a really big thing to prepare like exam (fortunately it doesn’t happen too often). Sometimes I can be slow with replies, taking a few hours on a lengthy para reply, but I like to edit and proofread my writing before I submit it.

Triggers: REMOVED

Anything Else?  Thank you for your incredible work, thank you for your kindness, thank you for your patience. Thank you for GAV and Jae-Seung. I say it again, I’m amazed by everything you did and couldn’t be happier to have been part of it. Whatever happens, I won’t regret having been part of this adventure.

IN CHARACTER

Desired Character: Jae-Seung Kwon.

Describe this character in your own words:

Where do I even start in regards to my fascination with him? Jae-Seung, he’s a prince of darkness. And ultimately what draws me to him is his ruthlessness, his ambition, his calculating nature. He is a man who shows no weakness, for who morals are secondary, and who is loyal only to himself. He is not held by moral codes except for a loose structure he has created for himself. Jae-Seung’s code might be his, but this is not to say it is moral or abides by typical nobility. While he has the capability of selflessness, he is mostly selfish, does as he pleases, and cares about himself first before others. That does not exempt him from the ability to care or put himself on the line for his objectives, but this is all by his own standards and rules. He understands morals to a degree but that does not mean he exercises them and he is often unapologetically immoral.

He doesn’t think much of anyone else. It’s just a fact of life. It’s not that he doesn’t care - more that if you play with the big boys, you sink or you swim. And it’s always harder to swim if you need to think about how someone else is going to stay afloat. He burns through life with the reckless surety of a rich heir - never concerned about the effects of his actions - unless it’s about him. But after years of living in this environment, of having everything be about him, who could fault him for it? It is always about him, and if it’s not, it’s wrong. Perhaps Narcissus could be a cautionary tale, but he is two times smarter and ten times prettier than he would ever be. When you’re born the perfect storm, it’s difficult not to get swept away by yourself.

He is able to use the skills that he possesses to alter the situation in his favor. He can always come up with at least three ways to get what or where he wants, and is good at shifting plans on the spot when something isn’t working. He is able to improvise, to lie, to bullshit his way out of hell with only minimal casualty. His intuition is his power; his words his weapon. People are nothing but pawn, and should he move them the right way, he will win the game. He loves to watch people squirm, to play with their minds until they’re not even sure what is lies and what is truth. He loves to watch the fly get tangled in the web, only working deeper and deeper into the threads. Like most weapons, his intelligence is best left concealed, emerging only at the most convenient of times. Jae-Seung has come across people who suggest that he may occasionally bite off more than he can chew. But in his eyes, the obstacles that he faces are merely challenges - challenges that are able to be overcome, and will be overcome. When others are willing to give up, he stands in the dust of everyone else’s defeat, simply switching the facet of his point of view and getting to work at finding another solution. He looks at every problem as a new puzzle. Like a game of chess, he can only win. In the end, he knows he will get through it – no matter how much time it takes. To him, the world is a place full of challenges that were meant for him to tackle. There is no such thing as an obstacle impossible to defeat.  When he puts his mind on an objective, he works to the ends of the Earth to accomplish his personal mission. Like a barreling train, there is nothing that can hinder him when he gets into one of those modes. Passion and ambition are what define him as a person.

Being an only child, Jae-Seung was raised at the center of the universe. While he might not admit it, he often thinks he is the smartest person in the room. There’s no denying the wealth of intelligence and overflowing pools of cleverness that resides in one Jae-Seung Kwon. He is hunger and an insatiable need to win. To survive in a world where everyone is guilty playing innocent, you need to have quick wits and even quicker thinking. An easy social chameleon with a keen eye for observation, he doesn’t ever find himself in a situation he can’t talk himself out of. Fluid and smooth in all aspects of his life, there is no situation where he could be caught unawares. Nothing can top talent and pure versatility when things go south. It’s how he shot to the top and how he’s stayed at the top, without the need to cause something as low-class as a scene.  

That smooth, shimmering charm of his goes down like fine brandy, and he knows exactly what to say to win you over. Careful and calculated, he’s no fool. He knows exactly what kind of veneer to hide his Machiavellian worldview behind, but as you swallow each and every one of his buttery words, rest assured that he feels no remorse for the arsenic he’s been silently slipping you all along. His end truly justifies his means, and there’s no reigning sense of right and wrong to tell him otherwise. Of course, he can understand how others might scoff at his methods, which is why he’s ensured he keeps them wrapped up in a pretty package of pleasant conversation and well meaning smiles, but don’t be fooled into thinking he believes he’s done anything but what’s necessary to achieve the heights he’s destined for. Lulling his victims into a false sense of security, he’s smart enough only to let on to his true colors after he’s used you and thrown you away — if he ever lets on to the viper within at all.

What are this character’s motives?

Jae-Seung is the epitome of hedonism. He is greed in his want to obtain what he desires no matter the cost. He is lust in his full enjoyment of unbridled passionate sex, even better if he can taste a forbidden fruit. He is gluttony in that he consumes everything in his path until there’s nothing left. He exhausts women and men, he exhausts possibilities, and he exhausts power. He is sloth in the way that he feels no remorse. He does things without failing to realize that they might not be what he should be doing, but does them the same way. Jae-Seung is a fee spirit, a wild card; only doing what pleases him. He is driven by nothing other than his desires. He sees everything has a game he can’t wait to win.

He has goals for himself, and while they may seem frivolous to some, they are what he wants to achieve. However, these ambitions are not empty - he is also resourceful, knowing the best way to go about achieving them. He wanted to be free of his parent’s expectations and he succeeded. He made himself and he couldn’t be prouder of his accomplishments. He lives for the thrill. He lives for the success of each new con. He is satisfied with everything he has today; of course, he is. But, there’s always more, and Jae-Seung can help but to want it all. He wants to keep lying to his parents, wants the satisfaction to know they don’t suspect a thing. He wants to show Amara where her place is, once and for all. He wants to seduce Bella, because what a beautiful prize she would be. And as always, he wants to be seen as the best as what he does.

What potential plots do you foresee for this character?

REMOVED

Would you be open to this character’s death?

REMOVED

PARA SAMPLE

ONE.

The building opened into a long, narrow corridor, lit only by candles in sconces on the wall. When they reached the end, another guard opened a second door, and there was a sudden rush of noise–live music, hundreds of voices rising over one another, laughter and gaiety. It was opulence beyond what everyone could envision, and a usual night for him.

Everything was so grand, so ostentatious. The place was resplendent with candle-lit crystal chandeliers, casting the expansive ballroom in a glittering shower of flickering light. The walls, covered in dainty gold filigree, cast the luminosity back, which caught off the jewels and shiny buttons of the people inside, chatting on the sidelines or twirling in the middle of the marbled floor to fast-paced, tinkling music from the stringed ensemble on the dais. Immediately inside the door were small circular tables dressed in fine china and glittering crystal. Grandiose floral centerpieces spilled across the black tablecloths. Roses, orchids, hydrangea, and calla lilies in shades of yellows, reds, oranges, and blues were cut through with iridescent feathers and strings of sapphires and emeralds and the odd topaz. Among the flickering light of the scattered votive candles, they winked and sparkled. Long tables were stretched out between the floor-to-ceiling glass doors open to the brisk night air outside, covered in lace cloths and piles high with ornate sweetmeats and dainty, appetizing food. There was a veritable feast laid out over several long banquet tables–delectable canapés, mouth-watering hors d’oeuvres, oysters and escargot, dainty sandwiches, and on and on.

Masked wait staff stood at the ready to serve fine cuts of steak, chicken pinwheels, and slices from the entire roasted boar, stuffed and dressed, meat falling from the bone. Then there were the dessert tables. Fresh fruit and fountains of chocolates, petit-fours, cakes and truffles, and every decadent treat one could wish for. Champagne spilled freely, waiters cut through the crowd with flutes of it, glasses of white and red wine. Music played, a lovely golden sound in the background. Several people danced on a glossy wooden floor, wearing elaborate gowns or suits.

It was a fairytale coming to life and Jae-Seung was ready to play his part. He’d spent the night smiling so much his jaw ached with it. He’d littered grins around like sweets. Smiles across at silly little girls, compliments —with unrivaled ease— their parents. His every word tinged with the perfectly calculated amount of appreciation and politeness.

Noticing Amara’s presence, he locked eyes with her as he turned in her direction. He gave her a smile, and if there were a few too many teeth in it, well, no one else was there to witness it. He snagged a glass of wine from a passing tray, watching the scene with a sense of cold detachment as his eyes roamed until he spotted the ones he was truly seeking. His eyes flickered to her eyes before meeting her searching gaze. Chin held high, coy eyes, he definitively looked the part; the so handsome and unreachable Prince, perfect in every way. He walked toward Bella, half of a naughty little smirk quirked up one corner of his mouth. ‘My lady,’ he gently kissed her hand. ‘May I have the honor of dancing with you tonight? ’ The thrill of pursuit, of a worthwhile chase, seeped into his mind. The coy smile that graces her lips is something he doesn’t expect, but thoroughly enjoys all the same, light fingers gentle in tracing her shoulder, a feathered touch with his eyes never leaving hers even after he pulls away from her skin. His voice is low, words just for the two of them; fingers ghosting her wrist. ‘It would be my absolute pleasure.’ He smiles when her eyes light up, thinking only one thing.

Hook, line, and sinker.

TWO.

Jae-Seung’s eyes narrowed as none other than Stavros strode towards him with all the fire that characterized him. He sized him up considering, recognizing someone on a warpath. By the look of it, he was going to give him a piece of his mind.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ His eyes are trained on the menu when he speaks, and in doing so, he’s made it abundantly clear how unimportant he finds that conversation to be – if it can even be called a conversation. He sips tea from a mug, the steam masking a contemptuous look, if only briefly. The slight wisp of a smile that finds his lips doesn’t falter when heads turn in their direction. It’s hardly an unusual accusation. Hardly one he hasn’t heard before. He is Jae-Seung Kwon, the snake lying in wait. He can’t help but stir up trouble.

In his world, rules were made to be broken, people to be toyed with, and life to be enjoyed at its fullest. Only those who didn’t win thought life wasn’t a game. How boring! What was the point then? If he didn’t find a way to be entertained, he didn’t see the point in doing something. He didn’t have time for useless or boring things. Oh, did he love a little chaos. And this is what Jae-Seung knew best, the careful destruction of things under his hand —or with his help at least; all so he could rebuild something better for himself. He was never one to let an opportunity slide, always one to know how to get what he wanted. He would play his part, and would have fun doing so. He was just waiting for the first tip of a domino to fall, for the first mask to shatter — it would all come crumbling down like an avalanche soon and he would be ready to rise above it.

‘This is not a game!’ He didn’t bristle at his outburst; instead he observed him and waited for it to pass. He recovered quickly, his expression challenging. His jaw was locked, but there was an antagonistic glint to the smirk he gave him. ‘Don’t I know it.’ He cocked his head playfully at him, his childish action out of place in such a situation. He has to bite back a laugh; that’d be pushing it just too far but god, is he tempted to.

‘Everything is a game.’ He couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘Your life had to be particularly dull with such a philosophy.’ Then, sighing, stretching his legs out to adopt a pose of indolent contentment, he inquired with an air of idleness. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, what are the charges?’ He obviously knew what he reproached him, but it didn’t mean he would make it easy. He wouldn’t show his hand so easily. Stavros would need to play his game right if he wanted answers. A sly smile spread across his face and as he continued to speak, ‘It’s hardly fair to accuse me when I ignore what offence, if any, has been committed.’ The words hang in the air between them. Jae-Seung’s face is blank, an unreadable mask, waiting for his next step.

EXTRAS

My mockblog can be found <a href=“http://jskwoninspo.tumblr.com”>here.</a>

Name.

Jae (栽) “cultivate”.

Seung (勝) meaning “victory, excel”.

Kwon (權), meaning ‘authority’ or ‘power’.

Personality.

Alignment: chaotic neutral.

Mbti: entj.

Four temperament: the executive (choleric-sanguine).

Enneagram: type eight.

Nine type of intelligence: Interpersonal Intelligence (People Smart”).

more <a href=“http://jskwoninspo.tumblr.com/post/156361128087/headcanons-part-i”>here.</a>

Tropes.

consummate liar, unreliable narrator, the hedonist, the beautiful elite, gentleman snarker, magnificent bastard, man of wealth and taste, pretty boy, bi the way, tranquil fury.

Sexuality.

Greyromantic. someone who only occasionally, or rarely, experiences romantic attraction. They may experience romantic attraction but not often or could experience them with no desire for a romantic relationship or desire relationships which are neither platonic nor romantic.

Pansexual. the attraction to multiple genders, rejects the idea of gender binaries and accepts that there are more than the two genders ( male & female ) rather than the spectrum.

To jae-seung, sex is a matter of aesthetics: the hard, sharp planes of men and the lithe, delicate bodies of women. There’s no attachment to his flirtation, simply a desire for contact, for heat. It’s a definite bonus if he enjoys the person’s company, but there are never feelings, never any romance - it takes a lot more than physical attraction to find a place in his heart, and he isn’t sure that it’s even possible. He is woefully casual with all his affections. Romantically, he’s attracted to intelligence and wit in a person, though he’s a firm believer in trying to avoid relationships as much as possible – it’s a tricky business, and while he does love pulling a grand act, it’s exhausting when it comes to a relationship with a stranger based on a front. He has the capability, on some level, to love another. It’s just a matter of finding a proper match, an equal, a counterpart that’s actually worthy to stand by his side. Sadly, such candidates are few and far between. Jae-seung is a notorious flirt, you never know whether he really means it. Sometimes he does, but most times he doesn’t. Even when he does he tends to lose interest quickly.

Language & accent.

korean  (  mother tongue with strong busan satoori  )  —  mandarin (  fluent  )   — english  (  fluent  ) —  Italian (fluent) —   —  french  (  decent   ) — spanish (  learning  ).

As he grows he first acquires languages by necessity, but it soon becomes hobby, because they’re interesting, a challenge. The nuances that vary from language to language bringing a spark of excitement to bright eyes. He views each language he’s acquainted with as another badge — an accomplishment he can flaunt without needing to reduce himself to the crassness of bragging. Korean. The mother tongue, the language his ears hear first when his mother cradles him in her arms, wailing with his firsts cries to the world. Mandarin. As a toddler he follows his mother around the manors, trailing after her down long hallways on soft feet, listening in on rich and fluid sounds of a language his mothers speaks like she breathes. He drinks in English taught by his nanny before he even learnt to walk. French, his great-aunt insists he learn it, you can be an accomplish scholar otherwise, she said. Italian. The beauty of the language appeals to him, and as he loves to say you can never learn too many languages. Spanish. The most recent of his endeavors that he is by no means fluent – yet – but he wagers he’ll have it under lock and key in a few months.

Occupation.

Lawyer

He could be the new face of the Kwon name, could be the legacy his parents dreamed him to be. But why would he when it’s so much simple to pretend. The golden boy, the perfect heir: the liar extraordinaire. How could he resist when he saw a chance to shape his own future; in something even better they could have dreamt of.

Con man

The silver spoon in his mouth didn’t sate his hunger, he was still always starving. Starving for things to do, places to see, and people to meet. He reached his hands out in front of him and grasped all that he could see. He learned trades and slipped into the shadows, he took things that did not belong to him sheerly for the thrill and satisfaction. He learned how to use his boyish looks to get people to trust him and hand over the things he wants. He learned his way around words, and he learned how to become a friend of the dark. Becoming a conman was easy, it was in his blood, he carried it with him everywhere he went. Jae-Seung had wanted more, so he took it.

Deception comes so effortlessly to him that, he could only assume that he was born for guile and theft. He is the antithesis of James Bond, clad in stolen couture and silver-tongued lies. His quick tongue and innate ease makes fooling the targets an easy feat. He can play up the innocent act as easy as anything else, fluttering lashes and lilted tones making it easy for his deceptive cover eat up any sucker that dare believe it. He gains trust and demands respect, something that those around him are too scared to debate, making his efforts on the inside simple and effective. He’s good at it, or so he’s been told (but he knew as much already). There’s something of a talent in him for bending people to his will, making them believed those honeyed words he turns, gold threading through a spinning wheel.

Socialite

He is built for this world, this life. He commands attention and keeps it with no issues. Fashion icon. Socialite.  Jae-Seung Kwon is who you want to be, but also the one person you fear the most. A deadly combination that makes his time in the limelight unfleeting, a throne held with an iron fist. It was because of his innate hedonistic nature, a characteristic he had become an expert at hiding, wearing a mask of sophistication and superiority like a glove. The young man had an easy sort of charm about him, a flash of the eye or a well-timed joke had always been his forte, despite having barely any parental guidance. And those on the Elite would often describe him as a pleasure to have around.

Song.

Eyes on fire - blue foundation

( I’m taking it slow / Feeding my flame / Shuffling the cards of your game / And just in time / In the right place / Suddenly I will play my ace) ― his manipulation.

Emperor’s New Clothes, PANIC! AT THE DISCO

( Sycophants on velvet sofas / Lavish mansions, vintage wine / I am so much more than royal / Oh, yeah The crown / So close I can taste it / I see what’s mine and take it ) ― his ambition.

Quotes.

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul. ― William ernest Henley.

How characteristic of your perverse heart that longs only for what happens to be out of reach. ― Pierre-Ambroise Choderlos de Laclos.

I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times, hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best. — Marilyn Monroe.