#He started out as a servant and in that one scene the maid threatened to report him to ‘the master of the house’

[flowertab]

PL Character Name Meanings Pt. 2

Clark—“scholar, scribe, cleric” (English and Scottish origin)

Brenda—“sword, torch” (Scandinavian origin)

Arianna—“most holy, chaste” (Italian and Greek origin)

Tony—“priceless, flourishing, praiseworthy” (Latin origin)

Randall—“wolf shield” (Old German origin)

Angela—“messenger, angel” (Italian and Greek origin)

Henry—“ruler of the house” (German origin)

Alphonse—“noble, ready for battle” (Old German and French origin)

[andypantsx3]

Deceiving the Duke | 4 | Todoroki Shouto

pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

length: 3.1k of 30k words | 4th of 9 chapters

summary: When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

tags/warnings: romance, regency au, class differences, hidden identity/identity porn, aged up characters, eventual smut

A few weeks on, you received a reply from Camie.

It was a great luck that the Utsushimis employed so few staff, which meant that you were the servant in charge of collecting the post. You imagined Mrs. Utsushimi would have seized on the letter as soon as she caught sight of it.

It was addressed in Camie’s horribly girlish hand, and it opened in the most typical of Camie phrasings.

Y/N, my sweet foolish friend–

Your plot is hilarious but doomed and you should end it sooner rather than later. Mumsy should have never asked you for this, it’s sure to ruin you and ruin her, even if Caroline makes a match.

I would have always taken care of her, and Inasa has promised the same. Of course you will come live with us on Inasa’s estate, too.

You’ll find a way to put a stop to things, won’t you?

She’d signed her name below with an aggressively elaborate flourish, so you knew how upsetting she truly found the news.

Guilt settled in your stomach like a leaden weight.

You shouldn’t have undertaken this plot, obviously. You’d said as much in your original missive to Camie. But now that the scheme was already well underway, you thought it had to be seen through. Otherwise, what had all this been for? The Utsushimi family would be embroiled in scandal with absolutely nothing to show for it. And you doubted Mrs. Utsushimi would be so generous with your promised wages, were you to renege on your commitments now.

Carefully folding Camie’s letter and stowing it under your mattress, you decided you’d just have to redouble your efforts. Perhaps you would start accepting dances with gentlemen just to talk Caroline up, and mention her kindly to Miss Uraraka and Lady Asui.

You wished you’d taken the chance to mention her to Lord Shouto, before you’d caused the scene at Lady Cathleen’s party. If he wasn’t actually courting Princess Yaoyorozu, that was, as rumor seemed to suggest.

With a new plan in mind, you started your morning chores, mending the hem of one of Mrs. Utsushimi’s gowns where she’d torn it, starching the linens, picking seams on the latest of Camie’s dresses you planned to wear. You helped the family with breakfast and saw them off to the milliner’s, after which you changed their bedding and washed the old sheets. You were just settling down to get more work done on one of Camie’s gowns when a knock came at the door.

When you pulled it open, you found Lord Shouto on the other side, peering into the dim of the hallway. His mouth parted in surprise to see you, those mismatched eyes going rounder at the corners. You immediately panicked, slamming the door shut on him.

Fuck! You’d been dressed in your maid attire, not expecting the family to receive a caller! Your only grace was that the hall was very dim this time of the morning–you hoped he hadn’t been able to make out your dress in the dark.

“Um!” you called through the door, your voice strangled. “Forgive me, my lord, I am not yet properly attired! I will be right back!”

You dashed up the stairs, grabbing the latest of Camie’s gowns, quickly unlacing your apron and shedding your clothes, then stuffing yourself into the dress. Your fingers scrabbled over all the ties and buttons, shaky with nerves. You were back down the stairs in under two minutes, panting, hoping Lord Shouto wasn’t working himself into a state at being so rudely received.

When you pulled the door open again, however, he was wearing a curious expression. Those eyes picked over you, seeming to note every detail, and you self-consciously tugged at the skirts of your dress. You did not even want to think of the state of your hair.

There was a bouquet of flowers in his hand, sweet purple lilacs decorated with bursts of white clover. You squinted at the flowers, remembering Caroline had told you each had a special meaning, if you knew how to interpret them.

They looked too pretty to be declarations of your idiocy, however, so you guessed they might not be for you.

“I—you must be here to see, um, Caroline?” you asked. “I’m afraid she’s out at the moment–she should be back in a few hours, however–if you want to leave your card…”

Lord Shouto shook his head, stepping forward. “I am here for you.”

Your heart tripped over itself with his proximity, and you backed up a step, leaning back to look into his face. “I–-you are?” you asked stupidly.

The tiniest hint of a smile twitched at the edge of his mouth. “I came to see that you were well, after Lady Cathleen’s.”

Your stomach churned guiltily. That was really too kind, especially considering that you’d done nothing but fling snacks at him, ramble nonsense at him, and then pretended to faint on him. To say nothing of the fact that you were pretending to be an entirely different person than the one you’d introduced yourself as. And here he was, in your doorway still, looking at you carefully, as though he meant to catch you were you to faint again.

Now that he was here, it would not be so easy to refuse him. You backed out of the doorway, gesturing him inside. “Please come in. I can serve tea in the sitting room.”

Lord Shouto inclined his head and followed you inside. You lead him to the parlor, glad you’d neatened it, wondering at your own nerve–a servant, entertaining a duke, in a sitting room that was not her own.

“The maid is, um, indisposed today,” you told him. “I’ll make the tea myself, please make yourself comfortable.”

You left him to his own devices, darting to the kitchen. You’d hoped to run into the cook but she was also apparently out, probably at market, so you threw the kettle on and spent several long minutes rummaging around for the nice tea–-the kind Mrs. Utsushimi only served when she wanted to impress. You figured a duke would definitely meet her criteria for people worth impressing.

When you returned, Lord Shouto had left his flowers laying over the settee. He was at the mantle over the fireplace, glancing through the Utsushimis’ portraits and displayed needlework. That curious look was back on his face when he turned back to you, and his eyes seemed to rove over every inch of your face.

He looked strange, in fact, as though he’d just been confronted with a startling discovery. You flushed under his scrutiny, hoping you hadn’t missed a stain on your dress or some large rip in the fabric.

You hurried to the corner and set the tea tray down on the sideboard. Your skin prickled tellingly as he drew near, and you quickly poured him a cup and ordered him into a chair to get him away from you. You did not understand why his presence made you feel so strange.

You dared to pour yourself a cup of tea, too, and perched on a chair opposite him, luxuriating in how good the tea was compared to your usual fare.

“I, um, appreciate you calling,” you said to him, watching him settle into his chair, and trying not to pay too much attention to the way his thighs filled out his breeches, or the way his shoulders seemed to take up the entire width of the chair back.

Lord Shouto sipped at his tea, humming low in his throat. “Have you recovered, Miss Utsushimi?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes. It was just, um, a passing thing. I am completely fine.”

He looked satisfied, smiling softly into his tea cup. “I am happy to hear it.”

You noticed his lashes left long shadows over the tops of his cheekbones as he drank, and you pinched your leg through your skirts when you realized how deeply undue that observation was.

You quickly cast about for something to take your mind off of the way Lord Shouto looked sitting across from you.

“The flowers are pretty,” you said, glancing over at them. The purple of the lilacs looked especially deep against the lighter fabric of the settee–you wondered what purple lilac was supposed to mean, and which of the Utsushimis they were for.

Lord Shouto had said he was calling on you, but he’d not said the same of the flowers. It would be the height of conceit to think that they were also for you, especially given how completely unhinged you’d been with him to date. A man did not bring flowers to a woman who pelted him with snack cakes.

“Are they–-Caroline’s?” you guessed.

Another threat of a smile pressed at Lord Shouto’s mouth. “You speak as though you’ve never received flowers before.”

That arrested you. What did he mean, you? They were for you? You couldn’t help the way your mouth dropped open.

“I–me?” you asked, dumbfounded. “I’ve never—are you certain?”

Lord Shouto’s eyebrows went up, and there was a note of something amused in his deep tone. “I should hope so.”

You left your cup on the table beside you, unable to help the way you were drawn to the flowers. Your first bouquet! And probably your only, considering your prospects and the expense. But they were so lovely, and they smelled so bright and green and fresh.

A weird giddiness came over you, and you tried to squash the feeling down.

“I–Thank you, Lord Shouto,” you said, unable to help the embarrassingly touched note in your voice. “They are beautiful.”

Lord Shouto looked a little bit smug, you thought, as you fingered some of the petals, feeling their silky smoothness on the pads of your fingers. You’d have to put them in water. And maybe hide them in your room, if you got the chance. You doubted Mrs. Utsushimi would be pleased to discover Lord Shouto had brought you flowers, considering you were supposed to be keeping a low profile.

Which you were apparently utterly failing at.

You turned back to Lord Shouto, placing your flowers on the seat next to you, unwilling to be parted from them. It was probably strange, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care quite enough to try to be normal about it all.

“They don’t mean something like learn Greek, do they?” you asked him suspiciously.

Lord Shouto laughed, out loud this time, low and easy, and the sound went straight to your head.

“They do not,” he said, but he did not elaborate on whether they did mean something. You made a note to try and look them up later.

You had the sudden, wild thought that a man bringing a woman flowers meant something more than you were currently accounting for. And it also dawned on you that you were a man and woman alone–-an impropriety by any of good society’s standards, regardless of the fact that your first meeting had been much like this as well.

“Caroline and Mrs. Utsushimi should be back soon,” you blurted out, as if to reassure him that you had no inappropriate designs on him.

Lord Shouto looked unbothered, watching you with those mismatched eyes over the rim of his tea cup. “It does not matter to me. I am not here to see either.”

There was something teasing in his tone that warmed you all the way to your toes, and you had to school your face so as not to betray how much that pleased you.

You tried to remind yourself that he meant nothing by it, and that this could be nothing, in the end. And now was as good a time as any to try and talk Caroline up, now that you had Lord Shouto in your clutches.

“Caroline is good company, it is a loss,” you said. “Have you met her?”

“In passing,” Lord Shouto said. “She’s never flung anything, so I’m afraid she did not make a significant impression on me.”

You laughed. “But a better one, I hope.”

Lord Shouto did not say so.

“You’ll remember how pretty she is, though,” you said insistently. “And she does read Ancient Greek, I think. She’s accomplished on the piano forte.”

“So her hobbies are not so secret as yours?” Lord Shouto asked.

You smiled. “She is rather more accomplished. I must hide my own in order to save myself the embarrassment.”

Lord Shouto leaned forward in interest. “You’ll tell me at least one? You are aware I am a trustworthy secret keeper.”

He looked so earnest, and his tone was so genuine, you couldn’t do anything but give him what he wanted. Much may it please him to learn.

“My chief hobby is reading–though obviously not in any ancient languages. I’m…quite fond of novels, actually.” You were mostly fond of them because Camie was fond of them, and they were the principal artifact she had been able to smuggle you. But you quite liked all the tales of adventure, cunning, and head-spinning romance. The only type of adventure you’d seen thus far was this hare-brained scheme of yours–and it would not end nearly so well as the stories in your novels did.

“I too, enjoy reading,” Lord Shouto obliged you. “Though not usually novels.”

You smiled. “I’ll recommend you some, though I can’t tell if you’d enjoy them. They’re a lot of nonsense.”

“I believe I told you,” Lord Shouto said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on those thighs. “I like nonsense.”

For some reason, your heart did a weird fluttering motion in your chest. Your cheeks heated, and you grasped your tea cup tighter, as if holding on for safety.

“Well, then,” you said. “I’m certain I can oblige you. I’ll send you a list, perhaps.”

Lord Shouto looked pleased, blinking long and slow like a cat in a sunbeam. “I’d quite like that.”

You took another sip of your tea to hide some of your face, trying to reign yourself in. You had not meant for this conversation to turn towards you–Caroline was the objective here. You wracked your brain for another segue back to her.

“I’ll ask Caroline to send along recommendations as well–though they won’t be novels,” you said. “Perhaps something in Greek may tempt you.”

Lord Shouto regarded you curiously. “Your recommendations do not stand on their own?”

You frowned at him defensively. “My recommendations are the finest,” you sniffed.

A tiny smile lifted the corner of his lips, like he’d caught you. “Then I need only accept yours.”

“But really–Caroline–” you started, but Lord Shouto cut you off.

“Miss…Utsushimi,” he said, pausing strangely over the name. “It is not Caroline’s opinions I seek. My attentions are yours, and yours alone.”

You froze, a spear of ice plunging into your heart. His attentions were yours? What could he mean–which attentions, exactly? That sounded quite terribly like an admission of interest–-romantic interest–-except that would be insanity itself.

He was so very noble, and so very handsome, and you were beginning to learn that he was so very kind. You were the most horrible match imaginable for him.

You’d have to make sure he understood it.

“Lord Shouto, you understand I do not mean to marry,” you said, testing the waters.

“You’ve intimated as much,” he replied, his tone low. “Though your reasons…remain a mystery.”

For some reason, his eyes cut back to the mantle, lingering strangely over the Utsushimi family’s portraits.

“I would be a poor choice,” you said. “You understand my shortcomings already.”

Lord Shouto’s features arranged themselves into a mask of polite incredulity. “You think all a man wants in a wife is her knowledge of ancient languages?”

A laugh burst out of you. “In part.”

A tiny smile threatened the corner of Lord Shouto’s mouth again. “I assure you there are other qualities one might desire.”

Yes, like needlework and piano forte and singing and such. Your talents lay elsewhere–and plenty undiscovered.

“I also understand that your hand is all but promised to Princess Momo,” you told him. You hoped he understood what you were implying–whatever attentions he had been referencing, he needn’t lavish them on you.

“Do you?” Lord Shouto said softly.

You nodded earnestly. Lord Shouto looked thoughtful but did not elaborate.

You wondered what he was really doing here, in the Utsushimis’ sitting room. If he meant for you to be a distraction, a shield against the other debutantes while he waited on the princess. Or if he was perhaps open to marriage.

You decided it could not hurt to continue to peddle your Caroline agenda. Whatever Lord Shouto’s reasons, you were not a suitable prospect for him. But if he was open to marriage, Caroline would be a good match.

“Still, I’d like you to meet Caroline,” you said. “I’ll introduce you at the Satos’ dinner next week.”

“If you like,” Lord Shouto said vaguely, but you could tell he had no interest in her. His eyes drifted back to the mantle, roving over the miles of needlework and colorful oils of the portraits.

You sighed, sensing the enormity of the task before you.

After that, Lord Shouto steered the conversation back into calmer waters, trying to ferret out more about you. You managed to turn a great deal of it back on him, learning more about his family. You were surprised to learn he was the baby of his family, as he’d inherited his father’s title.

He told you about his eldest brother, Touya, who’d disowned the family to join some antimonarchist group in the south, and his other brother Natsuo, who’d rejected the title to become a man of the cloth instead. He talked fondly of his mother and his older sister, Fuyumi, who he seemed to visit often.

You liked the way he spoke about the people in his life, with patience and intention—even Touya, who it was clear had bad blood with the rest of the family. You could have listened to him for hours, luxuriating in his low, soft tone, the occasional conspiratorial twitch of his mouth.

He really was unlike anything you’d expected from a duke.

Eventually the tea ran cold, and the real world called back to you both. You saw Lord Shouto to the door with both regrets and a resolution forming in the back of your mind.

Whatever his interest in you, you would redirect it to Caroline, and kill two birds with one stone–Caroline could make her match, and Lord Shouto would be made to see what a pretty, qualified wife could be like. You carefully ignored the large part of you that recoiled at the thought.

It did not matter what you wanted, and you wouldn’t let yourself think on it. Lord Shouto was good, and he should make a suitable match.

You would arrange it so Lord Shouto and Caroline got a happy ending, just like in your novels.

You would make absolutely sure of it.

[wardenred]

Angstober 1: Honorbound

Well, I've had my short break—let's start catching up on another month-long journey! I may or may not use the Angstober prompt to explore this new-ish plot bunny in multiple directions. We shall see.

Coming back home from the rain, I expect a tranquil evening with my nieces: dinner by the crackling fire, an hour or two playing chess with Alita afterward while Norra entertains us with run-on commentary on whatever book has captured her attention last. Instead, I am greeted by half of the manor’s stuff huddled in the entrance hall, pale-faced and wide-eyed.

The sight transports me right back to the big fire from a decade ago. Yet this time, no flames dance on the walls. Nobody’s dying.

Gods, I hope nobody is dying.

“What happened?” I ask, tugging off my gloves. Hopefully, whatever the problem is, magic can solve it. My skills are undeniably rusty, but stress has always been my best motivator. Especially if it affects the people under my care.

The servants look helplessly at me, at each other, at the floor that, now that I think of it, has been polished a little too well. I never thought it should be a necessity to see my reflection in the parquetry.

Finally, the butler steps forward. “My lord, there’s— Um, that is— Well—” I will my eyebrows to stay down. Khosh has always been the most eloquent person in this house. My father used to despise him for it. “You have a—a visitor.”

“In the library,” one of the maids blurts, and immediately covers her mouth with both hands.

I want to frown, to tell them they’re all acting ridiculous, to demand explanations. That’s what my father would do.

I am not my father.

I shrug off my wet cloak and hand it to Khosh when I pass him. “I shall see to it.” Whatever it is.

My footsteps echo on the slippery floor, and I grimace when I realize I’m trudging dirt over the impeccable surface. Outside, the rain intensifies, pounding against the windows like it wants to break in. Thunder rumbles in the distance. The last hour of sunlight we were supposed to get is clearly lost to the storm.

This is turning into a scene from one of those novels Norra especially loves to mock. The ones about destitute young ladies finding shelter in crumbling manors and experiencing the promptly falling in love with the cursed lord who harbors too many dark secrets.

But this is my manor. I am not cursed, nothing here is crumbling, and I certainly have no dark secrets that might threaten me.

Or so I believe, until I swing open the doors of the library and a man with the warmest brown eyes rises from my chair by the fireplace.

I stop in my tracks. My heart follows suit before it bursts into a frenzied gallop. I fear that he can hear it, that throbbing, painful beat in my ribcage.

For a long moment, we stare at each other. He’s smiling; I should, too, but the best I can hope for is keeping half my astonishment off my face. He shouldn’t be here. There is no logical reason for his presence. No ruler comes chasing the recluse that got away, not after ten long years. Moreover, in his own words, he never held that much regard for me.

A crack of lightning cuts open the gloomy sky outside. They say the sky's electricity has the power to reanimate the dead. Something about it certainly jolts my mind back into action.

“Your Majesty.” My back protests against the courtly bow—likely out of sheer spite. It’s been months since my injuries last bothered me, even in rainy weather. “I must confess the shock of your presence is nothing short of staggering.”

“It surprises me you’re surprised.” He takes a step closer. “You haven’t been responding to my letters. I had to come.”

The statement makes no sense. No matter my personal feelings, I always respond to any correspondence received from the capital and crown. I’m bitter, not suicidal.

“I’m afraid I genuinely don’t know what letters you speak of, Your Majesty.”

I search his face for signs of mistrust or anger, but he merely nods, pursing his lips tight. I notice that his golden hair is damp; he must have been caught in the rain, too. This should put us on equal footing, but I only grow more conscious of all the water dripping down from my soaked clothes.

“You haven’t received them, then. Things are worse than I thought.” The King’s eyes light up again. “Oh, well. We’ve always been good at tackling impossible challenges together, haven’t we, Rythan?” The distance between us shrinks when he takes another step; I fight the urge to flinch back. “I hope there are no pressing matters in your province, for I expect you to accompany me back to the court. We can take your girls with us if you wish, provided you’ve been passing your talents onto them.”

His order—for that’s what it is, regardless of his amiable tone—sinks in slowly. I want to refuse, of course. His very presence steers up the kind of emotions I viscerally detest. This province here needs me more than he ever did. His court is a vicious viper nest I should never like to set foot in again.

But he’s not just a shard of my past; he’s my king, and I am a lord of his kingdom, honorbound to serve in whatever capacity he determines.

I can’t fully swallow my pride, though. I’m entirely too out of practice.

“Of course, Your Majesty. I hope you’re going to give me a little more information than that, though.”

His smile is brighter than the next lightning flash. “Most certainly. Come. Let’s sit.” He gestures toward the fireplace, as if he were the master of this place and I a mere guest; the worst thing is, in so many ways that’s precisely the truth. “And stop acting like you’ve forgotten my given name.”

As if I could ever.

[eros-vigilante]

octopath champions of the continent . red dot is for the main story/campaign and blue is for playables & their traveler stories. theres a Lot of women in the main story but very few of them are written very well. however theres also a fuckton of playable women (it is a gacha also. sorry) and all of their stories are amazing (including the second-highest rarity)

chloe. her story is about how shes a femme fatale who's practically the union leader of her town's sex workers despite not being one herself. "Her Girls" start disappearing and she beats up the guys kidnapping them. very pro-swer-rights

zenia. she used to make potent poisons for commissions that she knew were being used to kill people. eventually she decided she had enough and ran away, changing her name and trying to make healing tonics instead. she's silly

odette. side character from ot1 with too little screen time and my favorite ot woman. autistic coded, best friend of cyrus, (but her cotc story is not about him). her story is about how she's been taking in and teaching impoverished children and trying to raise them without violence while researching an ancient ritual for summoning rain (setting is a desert town). she's so funny and i love her so much

tithi's story is footloose if footloose included beating up cops. she returns to a town she left where dancing is banned and just. starts dancing and runs away or fights whenever the cops try to stop her. eventually she beats up one of the aristocrats and theyre like oh my fucking god iv had enough of you fine whatever. she's silly and sweet and i like her

dorothea is a socialist merchant. shes a nepo baby who found everything but her parents casino boring so she just left. she likes gambling and makes this her career by seeing investments as a form of it. she goes to visit one of her friends and finds out theres some asshole overpricing the only cure to a mysteriously localized illness. she threatens the guy making the poison into making her a ton of the cure then tricks the asshole into giving her literally all of his money. then beats him up. and invests the money back into the towns recovery and her friends hobby. shes so funny and clever "i poisoned this wine btw. ill give you the cure for your entire net worth. awesome thanks. jk i wouldnt ruin such good wine. teehee"

Aedelgard and Sarisa!!!!! are two women who are in each others traveler stories bc they were released as a trio with Yukes (her servant, boy, so doesnt matter here). aedelgard is a princess of a small nation and she has a lot of siblings. she's her father's favorite bc shes silly and kind so her siblings all hate her to various degrees. her story is about a tournament she participates in for funsies where one of her brothers tries to rig it against her and fails. sarisa's story is. super gay subtext. they're yuri. sarisa is her maid who was taken in by another of aedelgards brothers and assigned to her. she has "many talents" from tea to killing people. her story starts with her fighting thieves targeting aedelgard and fighting a guy who bought all the best sugar to resell bc she wants to get better at baking. then aedelgards brother shows up and tries to assassinate her. sarisa instinctively dismantles the trap herself despite her owing her life to him, justifying it by telling him that "that wouldnt have been strong enough to kill her." so he tells her she should assassinate aedelgard, because she "wouldnt question" poison given to her by sarisa. comedy scene where your set protag thinks the tea sarisa gives aedelgard is poisoned but its just not. protag confronts her about how clearly she is having a conflict about this (the brother has the trope line of "you havent grown attached to her, have you?") and she doesnt know why she wont kill her. yukes finds them to say that aedelgard was invited to her brothers house and sarisa goes Fuck. Shit. and you go there. andits. auughmhm. sarisa runs to where aedelgard is and she is just. chilling. shes used to her siblings wanting to kill her. and her brother tells sarisa this is her last chance to kill aedelgard herself otherwise he will. and she TRIES. she walks up to her and stares at her and has a breakdown. aedelgard says some really gay shit and sarisa turns on the brothers guards and fights them. aedelgard implied she spares her brothers life because she wouldnt have met sarisa without him. (!!!!!!!) and then she asks sarisa to make her some awful fucking cakes and they leave. ("i'll make as many as you want!") i love them soooo much.

i really only put the blue dot so low bc traveler stories are at most an hour each. but god i love them so much. here's where i record and upload traveler stories, it has chloe odette tithi dorothea aedelgard sarisas and more. @scholarlycait is my friend who also uploads stories i dont have including zenia.

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5eHPUAIpOeVt6DvR0Cqf9vlCPoXuCLU7

ilove you cotc women traveler story. would not suggest getting the game just for them bc youd have to pull them to do their full stories. Would suggest watching their stories on youtube you do not need any knowledge on octopath to enjoy them as they are

okay guys i'm going to open the floor for media recs: what is your favorite media wrt Lots of Female Characters or Really Good Female Character Writing? please put it in the replies so everything is in one place, i don't want any asks or dms. please refer to the following chart for how im grading these.

any media format, any genre. actually that's a lie. don't recommend concept albums to me. a concept album isn't real media they made that shit up for theater kids. femslash is a bonus but not necessary, however if you recommend anythign really het i will probably side eye you. okay thanks xx

[i-cant-sing]

I'm in love with the idea of baby reader destroying the Zenin patriarchy one zoomie at a time. Imagine baby reader at dinner time asking where the twins' mom is and why she can't be at the table with the rest of them, and Naoya giving that poor excuse that women aren't allowed there. So baby reader is just like "I want to go eat with her!" And after arguing for about the whole duration of dinner, and after baby reader threatened to not eat anything, Naoya begrudgingly lets her go to where the women eat. He's like "whatever" at first, but then the chubby cheek withdrawal starts kicking in, so he's like "screw this" and goes eat with baby reader. Everyone else at the table is shaking their heads at him, but after a couple minutes, they start making up excuses to join baby reader.

"Oh, I should go make sure y/n is safe."

"I need to ensure y/n is eating healthy."

"I... need to make sure y/n breathes properly!" - the grandpa probably

Hmmmm yessssss. Okay let me set the scene for yall:

Its dinner time, and baby Fushiguro is escorted to the table by a maid. All the men are already sitting there, and you take your seat by Uncle Naoya.

The servants are bringing in the food as Naoya makes small talk with you, asking about your day. You tell him you were playing with Aunty Zenin (aka Zenin twins mom) and Naoya nods.

"Where's Aunty Zenin?" you ask Naoya who begins eating.

"In the other dinning room. With the other ladies."

"Why?"

The table falls into silence. Why? The men thought. The answer was always clear, but now that you've voiced the question, they don't know how to explain it to a child without sounding... mean.

How are they supposed to tell you that they don't think their women deserved to eat with them?

"Just eat your food, Y/n." Naoya tried to dismiss you.

"No. I wanna eat with the girls!"

"No. Now eat."

"But Aunty Zenin is there and-"

Naoya slammed his chopsticks on the table, making you jump. He turned towards you, staring you down. "I'm warning you for the last time, Y/n. You're not going to the other dining hall. You're going to eat here with us. Do I make myself clear?"

Naoya used his mean voice with you, the one he usually uses with servants, but rarely with you.

He and the men watched as your mouth formed into a pout and you looked down at your hands, and they could see your eyes get a little watery. But you were Toji's daughter, stubborn as hell, they noticed as you still didn't touch your dinner.

"Y/n. Eat your food." Ranta Zenin, the more soft spoken of the Zenin men tried.

You sniffled. "M' not hungry."

Your stomach growled loudly at that. Making the men smile a bit. At least you had a big appetite like them.

But Naoya was losing patience. "Y/n-"

"You can go." Naobito said, drinking his wine.

"What-"

"You." Naobito called the maid. "Take Y/n to the ladies dining." The maid nodded and held out a hand for you, but you quickly went to Naobito first and kissed his cheek, thanking him, making the older man laugh and pat your head. Taking the maid's hand, you left the room, but not before sticking out your tongue at Naoya, who had a death grip on his chopsticks.

"Why did you let her leave?" Naoya asked, mad that his father had undermined him in front of you.

Naobito only hummed as he sipped his wine. "If you didn't let her go, she would continue to pester you until you did. Its better if she goes now, let her get it out of her system, and she'll come back on her own."

That was what Naobito thought, as did his brothers. Naoya soon realised what his father meant. You'll come back on your own once you realise how bad it was with those soulless women.

But then you didn't join them for breakfast the next day. Or lunch. Or dinner. Maybe you'll come back after the day. But then one day turned into two, then three, then four.

By the sixth day, they were all on the edge. They all missed you, especially the older men since meal time was often the only time they got to spend with you. At least Naoya and Ranta got to be with you when they trained you.

What exactly was happening in that dinning hall for you to not come to them?

"I'm going to take a nap." Naobito said, after only taking a few swigs of his wine. "A little tired today. Enjoy lunch." He said, bidding farewell to the men.

After a few minutes, Ogi Zenin stood up, clearing his throat. "Ugh. The food tastes disgusting. I'm leaving." And the food did tasteless, all because of your absence.

Soon, Jinchi Zenin also left the room, excusing himself that he's got stuff do.

Now, it was just Naoya and Ranta, the latter smirking at the former.

"What are you smiling about?" Naoya asked, agitated.

"You miss her, don't you?" Ranta said, popping another piece of sashimi in his mouth.

"No, I don't. Shut up."

"Alright, if that's what you say, I'll believe you." Ranta said before standing up. "I don't know why you would lie to yourself though. There's no shame in missing Y/n. I mean, I miss her, your father and uncles miss her, you miss her,"

Naobito looked up from his plate, confused. "What do you mean they miss her? And stop saying I miss her. I don't."

Ranta began walking towards the door. "Oh really? Well, where do you think they all are now?"

Naoya frowned at him. He didn't mean- he didn't mean there in the dining room down the hall, did he?

Naoya stood up but Ranta stopped him. "Oh where are you going? I thought you didn't miss her."

"Shut up." Naoya pushed him out of the way and practically sprinted down the hall to the dinning room.

Sliding the door open, he was shocked to see everyone, EVERYONE from the Zenin clan in the room. His uncles were sitting next to their wives, Naobito was sitting in the head chair, drinking his wine and you were sitting in Aunty Zenin's lap, telling her a story you had heard from Naobito.

As it turned out, the ladies dinning room was far more fun than the men's. The women who already loved you, thought you were dumped by their men to their dinning hall. So, they made sure to make you laugh and play with you and tell you stories and do your hair, heart melting at your adorable face. Not to mention, they let you do zoomies in the dinning room.

Before you came along, the women like their husbands, would usually just eat in silence and the entire aura of the room was dark and gloomy. But with you, it was like a firecracker of happiness had went off in the room, lighting anywhere you went with you jolly and carefree nature.

As Naoya stood at the door, feeling betrayed that he was the last one to come while the others were enjoying their time with you. Without a care, Naoya went and plucked you off Aunty Zenin's lap, lifting you up in the air.

The room fell silent as they watched you recognise Naoya and struggle to get out of his hands. Clearly, you were still mad at him.

"Let go!" You said, wriggling in his huge hands.

"Why? Are you still mad at me?" Naoya asked, eyes sharp but a playful glint in them.

"Yes! Let go!"

"Hm, no. But I have a way to fix that." Naoya said, grinning evilly before tickling your sides.

You immediately went into a fit of laughter, telling him to stop.

"L-let go! St-stupid Uncle N-aoya! LET GO HAHAHAHAHA-!"you continued laughing.

"Are you still mad at me?"

"Yes!" Naoya continued tickling you, smiling at the way you were getting red.

In the middle of laughing and trying to escape him, your hands managed to catch Naoya's hair, and you tugged hard, making him finally stop.

"Stop! Fine, I'm not mad at you anymore." You said, trying to catch your breath.

Naoya smiled, rubbing his scalp where'd you tugged his hair. "Good." He said, before kissing your fat, chubby cheeks.

God, he missed them.

[flowerwrites06]

blossoms and blood finale — jjk

Plot: Two lovers are ripped apart in the name of duty.

Pairing(s): Prince/King!Jungkook x Princess/Queen!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 5k

Genre: Royal | Angst | Smut

Tags & Warnings: violence, angst, explicit smut, blood

Authors Note: I know a couple of you wanted this so I hope you like!

Pungent scent of medicated potions lingered in the air of the Queens’ bedroom as it now transformed itself into a makeshift home clinic. The royal physician Taehyung sat on the edge of the bed while Jungkook lay on the soft surface, half conscious. White cloth pressed against the males’ forehead, sweat beads gathered around his temples. Every breath he took trembled as light whines emitted at each weak heave.

Belle stood near one of the pillars of her bed, concern twisting her features even though she tried her to keep her composure. As far as everyone was concerned, she still had an arranged marriage with Hoseok. So an air of calmness had to stretch across her face.

Taehyung hooked a fingers on the bandage, letting a light sigh as he did. A patch of red soak through the bandage already. “It’s a surface wound. They will heal in a week or two.” He turned to face the Queen, hands placed on his lap.

“Thank you, Taehyung.” Belle crossed her arms over her chest. Scrubbing sounds made her ears prick up. The maids spend most of the morning getting rid of the blood stains on the floor. “I expected to have enemies…” Her tone rung solemn.

“It’s the side effect of bringing a lot of people together. Powerful but often prone to differences.” Taehyung answered in a plain tone as he packed his things back into his satchel. A few glasses clinked inside of it while he hung it gently over his shoulder. “Let me know if there are any abnormal changes.”

Her eyes were still fixated on Jungkook. How his chest rose and fell, a film of sweat covering his body all the while his features contorting. Anything but a peaceful sleep. Quickly Belle met Taehyungs’ gaze and nodded. “Yes of course.”

The physician padded closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry yourself too much, Your Majesty. King Jungkook is known for surviving many battles. This is but a scratch.”

A scratch she should have received. Not him. Belle stayed silent and gave him a faint smile before he walked out of the room.

Minutes later, the maids also bowed down and excused themselves from her chambers as the room now had a faint flowery smell from the cleaning supplies. Apparently a few people had been concocting liquid that gave off a more pleasant smell after cleaning rather than the rancid one she remembered as a child.

Silence overcame the room as Belle was left to watch Jungkook struggling to keep still from the troubles in his weary mind. She knew the male had always been prone to dreadful nightmares considering the amount of battles he fought in from a young age. Fingers itched to comfort him. A more sensible part of her yelled not to dive too deep into this weakening state. But the part that wished she took the hit instead of him spoke a different story. She padded closer to the edge of the bed and sat down.

Pulling the wet cloth away from his forehead, Belle dipped it back into the basin of water placed on the nightstand. She lifted the heavy piece and squeezed out the excess before carefully resting it back on his warm head. Taehyung left the tray of simple tools over next to the bed. Grabbing another cloth the woman softly patted away the film of sweat on his bare torso.

She could still make out the faint traces of scars from previous battles. One stab wound right in the middle, the faint camel toned mark leftover. Scratch marks from a war tiger on his chest looking far less threatening than she recalled. Belle could still see how proud he looked having a mark of a glorious creature on his skin as if it were a sign of good luck. Then the newest addition. Bandaged and slightly soaking through with fresh blood.

Even to this day, Jungkook took a terrible wound somehow and still breathed. Taehyung wasn’t wrong in saying that he suffered far worse than this but the tug in her belly never changed. She still had to look at him in this manner. Breathing uneven and a pained expression across the features she loved so much.

Then Belle’s gaze caught something glimmering around Jungkooks’ neck. A plain silver necklace wrapped around his neck a little too tightly. Gently she pulled at the chain to fix it up and felt a larger object dangling from it just behind his jawline. Brows furrowed, Belle carefully brought the pendant back to the front of his chest and her heart skipped a few beats.

Breath caught in her throat as her shaking thumb brushed over the blossom design. It still shone so bright after all these years, capturing a simplistic beauty of a shy warriors’ gesture of love. Thick tears flooded at the brim of her eyes. The last time she saw this it had been drowning in a puddle of her mothers’ blood. Now as if a ghost of the past came back to haunt her, she had the ring in her hand. Reminding her of just that. It was the past.

Something she could never fix. The only she could fix was the future.

Belle looked over at Jungkooks’ half-conscious form, lips trembling. “You have to wake up for me.” She whispered, caressing his glowing cheek. “You have to be okay.” Tears trickled down her face as she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss at the corner of his lips.

The door clicked open. “Your Majesty?” Seokjins’ voice rung through the room.

Belle hurriedly wiped away the wetness from her cheeks and took a deep breath. Standing up from the bed, she clasped her fingers together, standing as professionally as she could. “Yes?”

Seokjin stood near the door, glancing over at Jungkooks’ form before looking at her again. “I have some important news.”

She looked over her shoulder for a moment checking if the male didn’t change in his demeanor. “Okay.” Belle addressed walking out of the room despite feeling utterly disquiet about leaving Jungkook alone.

-

Leaving a small crack in the door, Belle turned to face the Prince with as much as of a calm expression as she could muster. Although her eyes were still reddened and her posture a little deflated. “What kind of news?” She continued the conversation in a small voice so it would not echo too much against the walls of the hallway.

Seokjin glanced over his shoulder at the four guards now stationed near the Queens’ chambers. Their expression blank as per usual but they both knew their ears now stood sharper than ever for any strange sign. Facing Belle again, he spoke under his breath. “I started asking around about the incident and what might have allowed the assailant to get this far into your chambers.”

Curiosity piqued, she straightened up. “And?”

“A few servants…” He side glanced possibly at the guards once again. “They saw King Hoseok conversing with the guards and handing them a jug of something. The guards that were supposed to posted last night were found unconscious.”

Belle took a deep breath feeling a rush of heat burst through her body hearing that name. She wanted to be extremely shocked by the whole ordeal but admittedly Hoseok had been welcomed with open arms to cause whatever secret havoc he needed to. Of course he’d take it in a heartbeat. “Was the assailant one of his men?”

“Well, no...” Seokjin leaned on the wall beside him. “…he was one of ours.”

The Queen averted her gaze, hardly any shock spread across her features. “Not really ours, was he?” Not everyone could be elated about her taking over all those kingdoms. Last night now became a painful reminder of that notion.

Seokjin sighed. “There’s one other thing.” His voice rung lower. “While the scene was being investigated they found a potion spilled on the floor. I asked for them to get a sample.”

Belle could vaguely remember the assailant holding something over her but the events just after waking up replayed in a fuzzy manner. “What was it?”

“According to the potions master, it’s an elixir to get douse someone’s willpower. For a small amount of hours of course.” He lifted a shoulder.

“Long enough to sign any contract.”

“Or make any public announcement that he wants you to make.”

The more evidence came to light, the more Belle knew Hoseok was not a man of change if it meant he needed to change. It only became relevant when things were moving his way. Poor traits of a King but also fooled when turned around, she thought.

“Should we organize an arrest?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not yet.”

Seokjins’ brows furrowed searching her expression. On a normal day, an execution or exile would have been organized at most but he noticed a rare glint in her eye. “What did you want to do?”

Belle met the Princes’ eyes. “King Hoseok isn’t fully aware of the aftermath, I’m assuming.”

“No he isn’t.”

“Perhaps we can deal with this situation on more familiar grounds to the Sun King.” Chin raised, the glint in her gaze became clearer now. A sense of mischief and manipulation for the traitor King. Any monarch with a strong will to do his bidding loved hearing things that benefit him somehow. Even if it was a bold-faced lie.

The Prince couldn’t help but have a tiny smile tug at his pillowy lips. “I’m sure that can arranged, Your Majesty.”

She nodded. “Good.”

-

Large mat laid out on the grounds of the royal garden, dark mahogany floor table placed in the middle as Queen Belle sat on one side and Sun King Hoseok on the other. Colorful rice cakes centering the two cups of auburn tinted tea, light wafts of steam still flowing up from it. The maid neatened up Belle’s dress train around her for comfort. Golden dress with meshed sleeves adorned in rich floral patterns and pink flowers around the borders of her straight neckline. Colours of the Queens’ dress contrasted beautifully amongst the pinks and purples of the garden and matched pleasantly with Hoseok sky blue ensemble.

From afar they may have looked like the perfect royal couple despite the light twinge of disgust at the back of Belle’s mind, knowing just what kind of a person she was betrothed to. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard. There was an attack in the palace last night.”

Hoseok had been taking a careful sip of tea when she spoke. He hummed in response, placing the tea back onto the table before nodding. “I did hear King Jungkook got injured. Has he been recovering well?” The man was talented in playing the saint. Every conqueror had to, after all, try to convince everyone that what they were doing was good hearted to prevent any revolution.

“He is. It’s a surface wound so he’ll be ready for trial.” Belle picked her cup, blowing onto it gently before taking a small sip only enough to disappear on her tongue and barely reach her throat.

“Trial?” His brows furrowed.

“Well a few servants saw him wandering around the hallways during the attack. It’s a classic move.” Belle took one of the smaller rice cakes and bit into it carefully.

Hoseok searched the Queens’ expression with an air of interest, leaves rustling a little against the day breeze. “You think maybe he tried to plant himself as an innocent bystander?” He stated rather than asked. Truthfully he never expected her to blame him so easily but it was understandable considering their dark history.

“Of course he did.” She placed the half bitten rice cake back on her plate. “Sending a servant to do his dirty work was already in poor taste as it were.”

The corner of his lip twitched as he tried to keep a neutral face while the Queen insulted his tactics. No, Jungkooks’ tactics. “That’s true.” Hoseok spoke through a slightly tightened jaw. “Usually professional assassins are chimed in for those situations.”

“Right.” Belle smiled. “If you ever think of assassinating me during our marriage, please do send your best.” She mused.

Hoseok let out an almost forced chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Anyway he’ll be held on trial as soon as he’s awake. Then that kingdom is as good as ours.” A bright grin graced the Queens’ features.

“I can see why you’re the most feared Queen in our land.” Hoseok chuckled.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“What fun is life without a little fear, yes?”

Belle hummed in agreement.

-

Candles lit to welcome the night. Another fresh bandage now wrapped around Jungkooks’ shoulder. Belle had a significant rush of relief watching the male breath in calm patterns with his face relaxed from any nightmare induced contorts. He looked relieved from pain. She stood near her vanity as one maid folded up some used clothes and stuffed them into the hamper.

Her hair now completely open from any pins, she could finally let the tightening headache pass from the release. Fluffing through the locks the Queen turned to smile at the maid as she bowed and walked out of the room with the hamper rested on her hip.

Once the door closed, Belle relaxed in the comforting silence of her bed chambers for the night as she sat on the empty side of her bed.

During the early years of her reign she remembered breaking down on the floor. When all the eyes were off her and the young Queen was left to her lonesome, dark thoughts and painful memories sunk right into her very core. It overwhelmed every vein and limb to a point where a maid sometimes found Belle sleeping on the floor. Namjoon caught her in that state more times that she would like to admit. He would immediately carry her back to bed without speaking of it again for her comfort.

Recalling that vulnerable version of herself in the past, Belle felt a slight twinge of accomplishment that she could sit in her chambers with pride. Not grief or heartbreak.

Except one thing had been left unresolved as of late. She turned to see Jungkook stirring, a long drawling sigh passing through his nose. Belle shifted closer as her hand caressed his forehead to help him relax. She pushed back his long locks watching him slowly flicker his eyes open.

Vision blurred as Jungkook finally stirred awake, the room slowly materializing around him. He relished in a familiar warm touch on his forehead causing a hum under his breath. When his gaze turned over to the side, he felt an immediate rush of comfort seeing Belle’s face. For so long the man had been dreaming of waking up to see her every morning only to find an empty space beside him.

Now every piece of his damaged body and mind calmed as if a long held wish came true. “You’re here.” Jungkook whispered in a rasp, clearing his dried throat.

Belle smiled before nodding. “I’m here.”

With a light grunt, the male tried to push himself up before a hot flash of pain caused him to drop down again. “Shit.” He hissed.

Belle placed a hand at back of his neck, helping him lift up gently before adjusting the pillows so he could sit up comfortably. His back now rested on against the soft headboard. She reached out to the nightstand and grabbed a cup of water.

Jungkooks’ eyes partially closed as his body tingled, getting used to the new position after lying down for who knows how long. A few seconds passed and he felt something cold touch his lips.

“It’s water.”

The word immediately caused his parched lips to part. Refreshing, cool liquid gracing his tongue and dampening his throat while the heaviness in his head slowly lightened. A light hum emitted from under Jungkook’s breath as he swallowed down the nourishment. Even as the cup emptied, he kept suckling on for more.

Pulling the cup away, she gave him a faint smile. “I’ll get some more.” Before Belle could climb out of the bed however Jungkook quickly used his good arm to hold onto hers.

“Stay. Please.” He let out a relaxed sigh, mind clearing in almost minutes.

The Queen looked at the male over her shoulder before nodding. She placed the cup back onto the nightstand and sat next to him, body facing him completely. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I just got slashed on the chest with a sword.” Jungkook chuckled weakly. Licking his lips, his gaze fixated on the woman before memories of last night began sinking in. “Are you hurt?” Instinctively, he reached out to touch her hand. Thought of consequences seemed to bury itself somewhere deep under his weak state.

Belle shook her head with a reassuring smile. “Thanks to you.” She gulped down. “You didn’t have to do that though.”

“No one has to risk their life for someone.” His lips curled up. “But I’ll always want to for you.”

“That’s not comforting.” She frowned. “How did you think I was going to feel if you died protecting me?” Belle’s brows furrowed as the freshly lingering memories of last nights’ events now burst in harsh colours around them. She could almost still feel his blood between her fingers as it soaked through her robe.

“Belle…” He whispered, the grip on her hand tightening. “It’s what I do. I’m a soldier, remember?”

“You’re not just a solider and you know that.” Her voice cracked heavier at every word, eyes growing glossy. “You’re a King, all those people are looking up to you.” She nodded towards the door. “You can’t just come back to me after so long and then leave me alone again, it hurts.” Belle hung her head, swallowing the painful lump in her throat. She never thought after all these years, seeing Jungkook hurt brought her the same deep sorrow it always did. “The last thing I said to you was I don’t love you.”

Jungkook blinked slowly, lips twitching a little. “I know.” He whispered.

Belle let out a shaky sigh, eyes flickered up to meet his glossy gaze. “I-I didn’t mean—” She shook her head looking down at their hands connected. Caressing the top of his hand, she brought it up to her cheek. Warmth from his palm radiated to her skin.

He felt a rush of comfort touching her again. The distant broken visions of their past now hitting him like a bag of rocks to his chest. It’s been so long. Too long. How he survived without her touch for so many years. Unable to bear the distance, Jungkook leaned in, nose nudging on hers affectionately.

Heart raced out of her ribcages as her free hand came up to softly caress the side of his neck. Belle slid closer until their lips brushed. Thick heat tingled through her limbs feeling those familiar lips again.

As soon as their twin flesh touched, Jungkook took her bottom lip and suckled lightly. The faintest tinge of sweet berry still lingering on it intoxicating him further than he already was. A buzz swirled around his head. He wound his good arm around her waist, pulling her close against his body.

Hum emitting under her breath, Belle shifted as he held her, one leg swinging over so she straddled him. She felt his tongue slip through her teeth. Jaw slacked, she let him explore her mouth while her soft dress rode up, exposing her thighs.

Jungkooks’ hand snuck under the hem of her dress, nails grazing down the soft skin causing a tingle down Belle’s spine. Further and further he moved until he reached the swell of her ass. Instinctively, he kneaded the bouncy flesh.

Feeling the firm squeeze, Belle swayed her hips against his feeling something hardening between his legs. She felt the males’ grip tighten at every grind.

Jungkook broke the kiss moving his flushed lips down to her jawline. A flowery scent from the day lurked from the back of her ear as he nibbled on the lobe. His hands continued to push her dress up until the long skirt bunched at her waist. Her whole lower body now left exposed while she rubbed against his growing tent.

The more Belle grinded her bare core against the bulge, the more she could wetness soaking the thin fabric. Sloppy sounds slowly floating in the thickening air of long suppressed pleasure. A light moan croaked from her throat when she brushed onto a particular sensitive spot.

Pausing his small kisses, the male stared up at the beauty watching her features twist elegantly as she relished in the tiny waves of ecstasy passing through her. Jungkook could come undone just staring at that tiny smile appearing whenever Belle felt the right surge. Fingers dug into her hips, guiding them back and forth until his pants were practically drenched with both their arousals.

Belle met his hazy eyes, brushing their noses again before locking their lips into another heated kiss. Tongue almost immediately danced together as her hips grew relentless in its movements. She felt bundled area of heat collecting around her lower belly and shivering through her thighs causing a drawling hum to vibrate into the kiss. “I want you.” She mumbled breathily, their lips still barely connected.

Lightly groaning from the constricted heat around his crotch, Jungkook latched one of his hands off her hips and fumbled with his pants. He pushed it down far enough down to his knees before shifting it to his ankles and kicking it aside. His length now sprung free already twitching as if it could sense her heat.

She reached down and wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock, lightly squeezing.

Jungkook hissed lightly as his other hand scratched down her thigh. He pulled at the hem of her dress over her head and threw it to the side. Wrapping both his arms around her waist, he dipped down to suckle on one of her nipples.

Belle threw her head back relishing the light tickles of pleasure from his tongue flicking at her erect nubs. She looked down at him pressing wet kisses on the valley of her breasts before traveling up to her neck. Affectionately, her fingers brushed through his cold hair. Her hips jerked a little feeling his teeth sink into the sweet spot of her neck, sucking until it made her head spin around in circles.

Impatience slowly creeping in, Belle raised herself a little causing Jungkook to softly detach from her neck and watch her ministrations. She positioned her dripping heat at the tip of his length carefully sinking down. A burning tinge of pain and mix of pleasure concocted in the bubbling reactions of her body.

He couldn’t help the deep groan vibrating in his throat when he felt her snug walls wrapped firmly around his cock to the point of near suffocation. If she moved too quick, Jungkook could have embarrassingly spurted in seconds. Nails dented the skin of her hips as his dark orbs watched his Queen adjust to his size. His whole body shivered a little seeing himself disappeared completely inside her.

Belle could feel the tip of his cock shyly brushing against her sweet spot causing a thick waft of pleasure to shoot through her. The ache from her stretched walls subsided, drowning in her desperate need to feel him again. She began with slow thrusts, grinding up and down to let the tip tease her spot at every move. One hand cupped at the back of his neck while the other gripped at his inner thigh. Hair curled over her face as the heat curdled around her lower belly, exuding through her skin in a light film of sweat.

Jungkook admired her little movements in awe, eyes near pitch black from lust. The deep friction from the patterned swaying caused his breathing to lose all control. Sounds of her cunt getting drenched by the second, squelching a little as she ground their hips together. Looking down, he saw the skin of his cock glistening more and more as she moved.

She bent her knees, pressing her feet against the soft bed as Jungkook wrapped an arm around her waist. Writhing bodies now stuck together, Belle gripped onto one of the ridges of the headboard to keep some of her balance. With an almost dizzying ease she began bouncing up and down his length. The new position allowed for stronger pressure on that tingling spot inside her while her clit rubbed against Jungkooks’ lower belly.

Sweaty skin burned a little as it rubbed against each other thrust after thrust. Slapping sounds echoed across the sin scented room. Belle’s wavy hair bounced along with her, lips parted and eyes closed, practically drowning in the thickening pleasure.

“I missed you so much.” Jungkook breathed out before biting down her collarbone to suppress a much louder groan.

Belle let out a shaky whimper, the pressure of her orgasm hurdling and his words creating a deadly mixture of emotions to bubble inside her. Tears gathered at the corners of the womans’ eyes. “I missed you too.” Lips quivered slightly as she moved legs as her feet rested on his thighs. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she quickened her pace up and down his member.

Trembling breaths passed through Jungkooks’ lips as he caressed the swell of her ass, nibbling on her earlobe. He felt the coil in his lower belly tightening beyond his own control. Arousal splattered all over their thighs from the relentless thrusts.

In a harsh sudden wave, her limbs locked as the pleasure shot through her shaking body. Arms grabbing onto him for dear life. Belle kept on with her sloppy thrusts despite her hips jerking at every contact against her sensitive clit.

Her walls clenched around him so tightly, it made his own orgasm burst out of him. Ropes of cum filling the beauty up to the brim until he could feel more wetness dripping down to his thighs. Body twitched as they held onto each other, catching their breath and letting their hot bursts switch to a serene bliss.

Cleaning themselves up with a washcloth, the couple lay down peacefully next to each other. Belle’s head rested on his chest tracing the stab scar on his torso. As the swimming feeling in her mind began to settle down back to reality, she was reminded of the responsibilities that needed to be taken care of tomorrow. “I know who did it.” She broke the calm silence.

Jungkook stared down at the woman, fingers still absentmindedly brushing through her hair. “Dare I even ask?” Sarcasm oozed in every word hardly needing any explanation as to who might have wanted Belle harmed. He let out a small sigh. “What’re you going to do?”

“There’s a small plan. I’m not completely proud of it but he’s already into it.” Belle looked up to meet the males’ gaze. “Except I might need your help.”

His brows furrowed. “What kind of help?”

-

In the early hours of the morning as the greyish horizon sported a golden lining, Queen Belle’s council along with the Sun King and his guards gathered in the main throne room.

Belle adorned a slightly casual dress with soft tones of blue and green. She sat on her throne with a calm demeanor as per usual even in situations that welcomed a great deal of stress both politically and personally. Sun King stood on her right holding a small smile either by habit or he simply dove headfirst into her little play.

The council and guests then quietened down to a pin drop silence watching the Queen in anticipation. “This trial has been held to try the one responsible for organizing an attempt of assassination during peace holdings.” Belle announced.

Double doors opened with a light thud followed by armors from the guards clanging as they made their way in. Jungkook positioned at the center keeping one arm bent and hand placed on his torso. He walked and halted a little in front of Belle.

Hoseok watched him with that same smirk growing the tiniest bit. The sense of accomplishment exuded from him a little too clearly.

Though at the same time, Jungkooks’ lips curled into a faint smile as he bowed down keeping a fixated gaze on his Queen. The slight darkness in his eyes hinted what he was thinking about causing a slight tingle down her spine. Turning on his heel, the male stood over next to Seokjin casually.

Her light smirk then faded into a more professional expression. “King Hoseok…” Belle spoke calmly. “Please make your way to the center for your trial.”

The council once again turned deathly silent, eyes turning to the Sun King. This kingdom had been no stranger to having Kings or Queens standing for their crimes and being punished accordingly. Hoseok simply entangled himself into a long running tradition of intolerance for abusing power.

Belle noticed Hoseok trying to look around the room to see if anyone else was as confused as he was but his search failed in seconds.

Hoseok scoffed lightly, keeping a close eye on his men peeking through some members of the council. He noticed their hands tightly wound around the hilt of their swords. The action gave him a slight ounce of reassurance. Walking to the center of the throne room, a small smile played on the Sun Kings’ lips. “I assume there’s been some kind of misunderstanding.”

Belle shrugged briefly. “You tell me. Evidence came to light that you were conversing with the guards outside my door, providing them with a jug which they were then found unconscious with the next day.” She restated the information written out to her before this trial. The woman decided to keep the witnesses anonymous to prevent any bloodshed only to keep a secret.

“I was attempting to test your guards’ ability to stay at their post.” He explained with an expert sense of casual tone. “Clearly they failed.”

“Your diligence as the possible future King of this empire is appreciated.” Belle nodded in acknowledgement. “However the assailant was also found with a potion known to strip anyone of their willpower.” Her gaze narrowed. “Who might want me to lose my willpower? So close to our wedding.”

“The loss of your willpower can benefit anyone, Your Majesty.” Hoseok shook his head, struggling to keep his smile together.

“Yet conveniently this servant was last seen talking to you.” Belle smiled.

Hoseok stayed silent this time. All the explanations that seemed to be smoothly rushing through his mind now halted all of a sudden. Every piece of evidence now lay exposed in front of everyone to hear. The staggering grin on his face made it all too obvious that the all-powerful Sun King had been cornered.

She leaned in and rested her elbows on the table. “See this is the difference between you and me. You inherited your empire from your mother. I built mine.” Belle explained in a lower tone but it still echoed in everyones’ ears. “And I most certainly didn’t do it by being an inattentive fool.”

One of Hoseoks’ guards screamed sheathing his sword alerting all his other men to do the same but Belle merely gestured. All her soldiers overwhelmed the small crowd, choking and sounds of slashing swords echoing across the room. Armor clanged to the ground along with the unconscious bodies now filling them causing Belle’s council members to move to the side. Some of them murmured to themselves but otherwise used to the sight of proud citizens trying to protect their problematic Kings because of duty.

Hoseok glared at the Queen after seeing his men limp on the ground. The intention to keep a fake smile now completely dissipated. “Killing me will only heighten your enemy count.”

“Which is why I have no intention in killing you or those men. If you listen.” Lips curled up into a small smirk. “I don’t want war…but I also don’t tolerate kings who don’t quite understand who they’re dealing with. Though I understand my small and pretty demeanor may sway delusional fools into thinking too loosely.” Her brow raised. “You will ride back to your kingdoms and we’ll continue on as silent neighbors…or I can kill you right now and take your lands. It’s easy for me and your people either way.” She leaned back on the chair. “Your choice.”

Hoseok swallowed down, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re good, Your Majesty.” He licked his teeth. Glancing around the room, the Sun King bowed down with a light bitter taste on his tongue as he did so. “I will take my leave. Let’s never meet again.”

“Lets.” Belle lightly scrunched her nose, a proud smile adorning her features as the Sun King finally walked away from her and Jungkooks’ life.

-

Belle and Jungkook stood at the main palace balcony watching the chariots of the Sun King ride out of their gates. Sun rose out from the mountains giving the kingdom a new refreshed golden glow to welcome the new day. When she saw the chariots finally disappear and the gates close with a piercing thud, she let out a deep sigh of relief.

“I’m starting to like this new side of you.” Jungkook leaned to her side, closer to her ear.

“When I’m threatening to kill people?” Belle chuckled lightly.

“Not exactly that but it’s exciting to look at.” He grinned, shoulders brushing against each other gently.

When the light chuckles between the couple died down, Jungkook hung his head in thought for a moment. “I’ll step down from my throne.” He muttered. “I might be good at protecting people but you’re better at protecting kingdoms.” He nodded towards the closed gates. Belle knew how to communicate in politics. To Kings and Queens. She made him realize how many sides of a person it takes to make a monarch.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter with you.” Belle shook her head, keeping her gaze on her people beginning their days. “You’re going to be King eventually anyway.”

Jungkook eyed the woman curiously, brows furrowed.

Belle met his confused gaze with an innocent expression. “Unless your previous offer isn’t on the table anymore.” She gave him a cheeky smirk.

A bright grin slowly faded across Jungkooks’ features as his heart burst into a fit of joy. He grabbed onto her hips, pressing her body close to his making her giggle lightly. “It always was.”

Belles’ eyes flickered down to his chest, the thing silver string glimmering on the sides of his neck.

Jungkook followed the womans’ gaze down immediately understanding what she was looking at. He reached behind his neck and unclasped the necklace. It coiled on his open palm as he pulled out the ring pendant.

Stuffing the chain into one of his pockets, he held one of her hands up and slid the piece onto her ring finger. Another beautiful burst of memory spread through him reliving this moment again after so many years. He brought her ringed hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss.

“This time, no more leaving.” Belle whispered, staring up at the male.

“No more.” Jungkook pressed his forehead against hers.

After what felt like an eternity of distance and dread, they could finally feel like their kingdoms were home again. Their own shared home just like they always wanted.

<< prev chap | next chap >> 

[hereliesanotherfic]

Albert James Moriarty x Reader

A/N: Just a little drabble, nothing too intense. More an admiration for our handsome Albert ^^ But I hope to write more for Yuukoku no Moriarty! I just got into the anime so I know nothing of the manga. So in this fic, I had to make up an aristocrat family/servants. The more I learn of the series I might not have too! xD Let me know what you think!

Rating: PG 13 (probably) Triggers:

(Mentions of) Family member death, thoughts of suicide,

(Actions of) Murder but no heavy details.

You weren’t anything special to the world, or at least never felt like it for a long time. You had ‘worked’ for a wealthy family in Durham for more than 5 years now and most of your work was shared with your older brother. You haven’t been allowed to see him lately though, and it was concerning. He began to fall ill, and you did your best to care for him after serving all your duties to the family. But it’s been a long…long time since you’ve seen his face now, almost a year. The Lord of the house, Lord Vincent told you not to concern yourself and they had a handled on it, but over the time those words have been of no comfort. The fact that you cannot see your brother after so long makes you fear something awful has happened. After all, the noblemen and family weren’t the kindest to lower class like yourself. You’ve gotten smacked and hit, drinks thrown at you, belittled, and shamed beyond what is humane. Your only string to life is that your brother might truly be alive and struggling, but you’ve never felt a depression and despair this deep before.

At this moment, you were on your hands and knees scrubbing the dining room floor, the maids setting a table fit for five. You overheard Lord Vincent had invited some noblemen who were new to the area over for a feast, and once the reply came back, he demanded all get to work in preparations. The butler had stepped in, clapping his hands. “Alright, quickly now, clean up and make yourselves presentable, they will be here shortly!” You placed your sponge in the bucket and hurried it to the washroom. Racing back, you stood in your spot at the end of the line of maids, brushing out your uniform of wrinkles or dirt. The butler scanned down all three maids, his eyes scowling at you. The butler was a bit of a prick like the noblemen, he had no respect for you since you were on the bottom of the barrel. You looked to your feet, wishing for nightfall to come so you could sleep again.

“Come with me,” you heard Lord Vincent cheer and you dared to glance up at the guests. First was a very tall, slender brunette with gorgeous green eyes and a strong jawline. Following him were two blondes, striking ruby red eyes, a little more build but just as attractive. You quickly stared back down at your feet, praying you weren’t caught by anyone in the room. If Lord Vincent or his mistress found out you were eyeing the guests it’d mean another punishment. Your food, injuries, sanity? They liked to change it to see how far your threshold could go.

As proper maids do, you each stepped up to a chair to pull it out for the noblemen. You weren’t sure if you were lucky or doomed to seat the brunette. Allowing him to sit and then aid pushing his chair in, he glanced over his shoulder to you and your peripheral vision could see his small smile. Without thinking, your eyes looked up and locked to his, which made his own eyes soften slightly. You immediately looked back down to the floor and took your place back to the side of the room. It was only an interaction of maybe 5 to 10 seconds, but it felt so impressionable. You admired how his tux made his shoulders and back a bit broader, whatever fancy cologne he was wearing was practically intoxicating, and his eyes and smile could get you dangerously lost. It wasn’t often young noblemen appeared, and now you were glad they didn’t.

The five aristocrats talked and ate the delicious food. You never really knew what the foods were or how to cook them, but it always looked mouthwatering. Time seem to go faster today, but you felt it was because of that damn brunette. You locked his image to his voice after threatening another glance, his voice smoothing through the conversations like melted butter. In a moment, you heard the famous finger snap of the Lord, signaling for places and leftovers to be cleared from the table. As a good maid, you took action and stood besides the brunette, clearing his space leaving no crumb behind. You felt eyes on you, but you couldn’t tell if it was him, or the Lord on your left side. You did every mental trick in your mind to not be too nervous. But it was already failing you.

“Your maid seems unsteady, Lord Vincent, is she alright?” the blonde you learned to be William spoke. He was across the table but he still noticed the slight tremors in your fingers? What the hell?! You stood straight with your couple plates and cups and looked to Lord Vincent, who looked pleased, but you saw his little ticks to know well enough, he was pissed.

“Do not fret about the service Lord Moriarty! She has been failing my family repeatedly, so a change has been due for a while now.”

…What?

“It’s so hard these days to find high class maids,” his wife sighed loudly, a look of disgust lingering on your backside.

You heartrate increased dramatically while your skin paled. You slightly bowed to excuse yourself from the conversation (even though you were just the topic) and headed towards the kitchen to dispose of the plates. You practically dropped them in the skin and held onto the counter. Your suspicions about them killing off bad service wasn’t just a rumor, it was true! You knew now because you were next! Your brother—you had to find a way to get out and save your brother! …

Your eyes started to water at the realization. ‘They had a handle on it’, in aristocrat terms, in the Vincent family terms, they eliminated him. And dragged you on to play the fool believing your brother was alive just to suck out whatever they could from you. You dropped to your knees as your tears poured, fingertips turning while you still gripped the counter above you. And the thought of joining your brother now…maybe he would forgive you if you join him for letting him die.

“Why are you crying?” a voice behind you spoke softly, startling you out of your self-pity and turning around instantly. To your utter shock, it was Lord Albert James Moriarty, and he was less than two feet from you, one hand outstretches as if to catch you.

You harshly wipe the tears from your face and eyes with your sleeve, standing up as quickly as physically possible and giving your uniform a couple messy pats, yabbering your apologizes as if your ending life still depended on it. “I am so very sorry Lord Moriarty, you should never have seen me in such array. Please forgive my improper-ness.” You didn’t know where to look, what to do with your hands, your anxiety was eating you alive! So you did your only method, stare at the floor with your head down and grip your uniform, your hair falling slightly forward as it was falling out of its bun. You could feel your body shaking and tried to stop it, your embarrassment eating you up on the inside for making a fool of yourself in front of not just a Lord, but a handsome one at that. He couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than you, and he could be placed in a museum and you were the cement floor.

“Please, don’t be afraid of me,” Albert begged softly, the gentleness of his voice being completely unexpected. You felt his large hand wrap around one of your clenched ones, making you remove your grip from your dress and be held in his hand. In the same moment, his other hand swooped under your jaw gently and lifted your face to look at him, swiping the (still) falling tears with his thumb. He locked his eyes with you (e/c) ones, a small smile came back to grace his lips. Just as you feared, you fell into a trance. You felt his other thumb rubbing small circles in your hand as he spoke his velvet words again.

“Come, it’s time to leave,” he hummed, closing his hand fully around yours before turning and heading out of the kitchen. You immediately started to panic at the though of Lord Vincent seeing the guest of honor so close to you, let alone touching you or speaking to you.

“L-l-l-lord Moriarty, I can’t do—this isn’t rig-okay, I mean!—” You choked to find the words, not wanting to offend him in any way, but terrified of not stopping him before re-entering the dining room like this. His grip was strong and you couldn’t pull back more than he pulled forward. He stopped for a moment and chuckled, looking over his shoulder to you with a smile and slender eyes.

“Do not worry about that miss, Lord Vincent has no more hold over you.” And he continued walking. You had no idea what that meant, but you were about to find out.

After he pulled you through the doors into the dining room, the sight was appalling. The head Maid was sobbing on the floor, a bloody knife fallen from her bloody hand. Lying hunched dead over the table were the Lord and his mistress, each suffered one to three stab wounds. The smell of all this blood was too strong and you covered your mouth with your hand. Before you could take in any more of the messy scene, Albert was already dragging you along outside, the two blonde brothers finishing up inside with the maid. You were practically speechless.

“L-..Lord Moriarty?” you said just above a whisper as he opened the door to his luxury carriage, looking at you. “…What’s happened?”

“Lord Vincent and his wife have both paid their debt for the slaughter of lower class servant workers, that’s all,” he stated matter-of-factly. Your eyes widened at his words, but they were soft. How did another aristocrat family know of this, not to mention care?

“We in the Moriarty family are…different,” he chuckled, before stepping to the side. “Please, hop in.”

“Why?” You asked, forgetting for a moment he was a nobleman.

“I’d like to give you some time to think if you’d like to be a maid for our family, or if you’d like to start a new life elsewhere. In the meantime, I can provide you a safe place to stay.”

You cheeks reddened slightly at the word ‘I’ and he must’ve caught on, closing his eyes for a brief moment before looking back into yours. If it wasn’t so dark out, you could’ve confirmed or not if he was blushing a bit too.

“We, my brothers and I,” he corrected, and motioned you into the carriage. At this point, your former Lord was dead, you brother was dead and you had little hope immediately on the street. Maybe serving the handsome Albert James Moriarty wasn’t such a bad deal after all. Especially if they are taking away some of the scum of the world.

Albert couldn’t have been more pleased when you stepped inside the carriage. This operation William put together has been brewing for a few months. Truth be told, Albert has seen you more than a couple times, but he’s never interacted with you since that wasn’t part of the plan. It was obvious to William you were being tricked, and your heavy depression blocked your brain from the truth. Only once you feel your life was truly on the line would you snap out of it. Albert was just as happy as his brothers to save another lower-class citizen from harm. Not to mention Louis lightly teasing him about keeping his eyes on you a little too much.

[unforth]

Could you elaborate on the parallels between the Scorpion and his dad and WKX and Purple Danger? I find that thought really interesting! <3

Oh my god you're asking me for meta? No one asks me for meta!!! Getting this made me so happy, thank you! And yes, I'd be delighted to!

Lemme preface this by saying: I have not read the book, and I've only seen episodes 1 through 27, and while I do know some spoilers for past what I've seen, I don't know everything, and I obviously can't speak to changes in dynamics that may happen past what I've watched.

So, I noted in this post that I felt like I'd just gotten slapped in the face by the parallels between Zhao Jing, and his relationship with Xie-er, and Wen Kexing, and his relationship and Gu Xiang. Specifically, the lines in episode 26 that caught me were these:

And the contrasts and similarities that they drew to these scene from Episode 24, which I watched yesterday:

(all screen caps are by me - I won’t have more screen caps just cause I really don’t have time to hunt them all down, I’m sorry, but the first two were easy to grab, and the second two I’d already taken cause that scene really got to me yesterday).

These lines, coming only two episodes apart, seemed like a really stark and deliberate effort to show a connection in the attitudes of Zhao Jing and Wen Kexing. They've also got some similarities in the childhood/history that got them to this point: Zhao Jing's family was fallen from grace, as was Wen Kexing's. Both are noted as seeming different from the "regular" people around them - Wen Kexing, it's explicit; with Zhao Jing, it's more how others seem to behave around him. It's harder to get a sense of Zhao Jing, since his own self-report is so dubious and the flashbacks we get to the Rong Xuan era are all given from the perspective of different unreliable narrators, whereas Wen Kexing's memories seem fairly intact (well, water of forgetfulness aside) and match the other remembrances we get of the same scenes.

With those similar, dubious foundations, they both resolve from a young age to take revenge for the perceived slights committed against them - and both have decided that regardless of who the specific instigators are for their suffering, they have no compunction about involving innocents as a whole. Zhao Jing wants the power he feels has been denied to him, and sets about conspiring to get that power. To achieve that, he sets about on a course that involves lying and using literally everyone who can help him. Likewise, while I'm still definitely missing some damn important of Wen Kexing's backstory (starting with, who protected the dog for him, and how he went from "kid getting regularly beaten by the previous ghost king" to "adult who is said to have literally eaten the previous ghost king"), he also clearly sets out to gain power through whatever means he can, and to survive, though from the get-go, his goal is essentially the inverse of Zhao Jing's: Zhao Jing wants to lift himself up, and sees nothing but virtue in doing so; Wen Kexing wants to bring everyone else down, and knows he's damned through-and-through for it.

(They're parallels, not matches, just to be clear! It's not that I'm saying everything is the same - on the contrary, it's the differences that makes it so intriguing).

Now, then, at some point relatively early in this entire process, each of these young men found a child. Given that Xie’er and Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishou are of the same generation, presumably they’re all around the same age - 27 or so - and also presumably, the previous generation were all in their late teens to early twenties when they had their own disastrous round of adventuring. So, if Xie’er is, say, 25, and Zhao Jing was probably around 20 (since he was one of the younger folks in the flashbacks), and 20 years have passed, and Xie’er was probably around the same age as child Wen Kexing when he was found? (I don’t know, and I don’t know if that’s ever established, sorry) So around 7? Then we’ve Xie’er being adopted by Zhao Jing and Wen Kexing being adopted by the Ghost King, each almost exactly 20 years ago. Presumably, also, Zhao Jing marries...drat, I can’t remember her name...was it Li Yao or something???...right around the same time - hence why Xie’er would think of her as a mother. Anyway, sorry, I’m really tired and I just lost the thread slightly, but the point is: a 20-or-so-year-old Zhao Jing finds a young Xie’er; and a few years later, a likely-early-teens-aged Wen Kexing finds a toddler Gu Xiang (because Wen Kexing is 27 now, and Gu Xiang is I’m guessing around 18, and she’s likely 3ish when Wen Kexing finds her, so that’d make her 3 or 4, and him 12 or 13). 

And here’s where the parallels really show the essential differences between these men, despite the areas of commonality in the hate they hold toward the world and their desire to see the world brought low.

Because, given a small child, Wen Kexing’s immediate, clear thought is: I will never let this child experience what I have been through. Now, he’s busted, and he’s crazy, so from that point of view, he still does her harm: she thinks of murder as nothing (as does Xie’er) for example. But even in that, the motivations are different. Gu Xiang says it herself after she kills the beggar and Cao Weining confronts her about it: if a person is out to harm her, if a person even might harm her, isn’t she justified in killing him? If that isn’t the quintessential Wen Kexing lesson right there, I don’t know what is: “Gu Xiang, you don’t kill because I tell you to, and you don’t kill for fun, and you don’t kill for no reason - but the moment, the very instant, you have a reason? Don’t hesitate, because if you do, you’ll be the corpse, not them.” Everything Wen Kexing teachers Gu Xiang is with the aim of helping her survive in the cruelest environment in the world, one that has flayed him and raked him over the coals over and over and over again. Further, despite the hints I’ve seen so far that he has early allies at Mount Qingya (Tragicomic Ghost has been shown to at minimum pity him, and find him an odd curiosity), Wen Kexing entrusts no one else with the most vulnerable creature who has ever come into his life (well, aside from that adorable puppy, which I have the bad feeling is going to be shown to be horribly murdered before his eyes, possibly by his own hand to prove a point...that would be thematically appropriate...). He gives Gu Xiang the tools to survive and fight for herself, even against him, and when she even begins to suggest she might prefer to be somewhere else - when he sees evidence of her finding happiness - he does everything he can to encourage her joy, support her happy ending, and free her. Wen Kexing is Gu Xiang’s father, in every useful interpretation of the term - she may call him master, and others might call her his maid, but their relationship is tender, encouraging, mutually supportive, and loving. Wen Kexing wants what is best for Gu Xiang, even at the expense of his own comfort and happiness, because he cares for her that essentially and deeply - and she likewise goes out of her way to protect him more than once.

MEANWHILE.

Given a small child, though I haven’t yet seen any flashbacks to when Xie’er was little and I don’t even know if there are any, it’s really obvious that Zhao Jing instantly goes, “how can I best use this to my advantage?” Instead of setting about to build this child up to be a functional adult who can stand up to the challenges that threatened to crush Zhao Jing’s life, Zhao Jing deliberately sabotages Xie’er’s ability to function as an independent unit. He teachers Xie’er to kill, not to protect himself, but on command - to kill because Zhao Jing says so, who Zhao Jing says, on even the merest whim, and is so successful at doing so that Xie’er has even less respect for life than Zhao Jing does (which was never much to begin with). Further, while we know that Wen Kexing will kill to protect Gu Xiang, Zhao Jing never so much as lifts a finger to do his own dirty work, and has zero compunction about throwing Xie’er under the bus when he suits his ends. In 27, he flat out says - “if you keep acting like this, and kill the Gentle Wind Sect, you’ll ruin me - which means I can never let you stand next to me in public.” He says this when he knows that Xie’er craves his approval and that one of Xie’er’s most cherished objects in all he’s done is to reach a point where he can stand at Zhao Jing’s shoulder as an acknowledged heir and successor and proudly say, “yes, I did all those things to help my father, because I’m a good son.” Further, Zhao Jing is constantly abusive and manipulative. When Xie’er does what Zhao Jing has trained him to do, on command (like a dog? more parallels??), Zhao Jing praises him, touches him kindly (and when else do you think Xie’er is ever getting touched kindly? Nothing like the casual and appropriate physical intimacy with which Wen Kexing and Gu Xiang shoulder bump and interact) and tells him how precious he is. The instant Xie’er steps a toe out of line, Zhao Jing denigrates him, threatens to take away that which Xie’er most wants (acknowledgement), scolds him, calls him a fool, says he doesn’t understand. Zhao Jing calls Xie’er his son, and insists that Xie’er call him yifu, and the world may even see that way - though they hardly can, since Zhao Jing refuses to be publicly associated with Xie’er - but they couldn’t be less related when compared to Wen Kexing, who allows all to see him call Gu Xiang his servant even as he flagrantly, publicly, repeatedly treats her as his child - culminating in the speech he gives Cao Weining when he gives permission for them to wed.

Everything Wen Kexing does, as fucked up as some of it is, is done with the aim of building Gu Xiang up into a strong, independent, functional adult who is less stained than himself and capable of pursuing happiness in the world.

And everything Zhao Jing does, all of which is equally if not more fucked up than what Wen Kexing does, is done with the aim of tearing Xie’er down, making him a powerful tool - a trained dog, if you will - and a dependent person who can be deployed on an enemy and must be kept permanently off-balance so that he never ever is an independent, functional adult - and, to help ensure that, he deliberately orders Xie’er to commit depraved acts that guarantee that Xie’er is more stained than himself, and therefore incapable of finding happiness in the world.

Anyway, I could probably go on, but I gotta leave to drive my kid to school and run a couple errands, but, in conclusion: when Zhao Jing said, “the world has failed me, and I shall do the same to the world,” and it became clear to me that he and Wen Kexing essentially share (or at least shared) the same core goal, I was struck by a lightning bolt about the parallels and contrasts between them as people, and them as father’s, and here you go.

Hope this is coherent, I’m really sleepy and in a rush. :D And I hope it answers your question!

(Also dear everyone: if you reply to this or add to it in reblogs I ask that you please respect that I’ve only seen to episode 27, and not rip me apart for things I haven’t seen yet, and try to avoid giving me spoilers? I know a few - or at least I think I do - like I know all the Major Character Death stuff - but I’m sure if you’ve seen the whole series you can spot places where you, dear reader, know things I don’t, and I’d ask that you not ruin those places for me, because I’m watching as fast as I can - about one episode a day - and I’d rather find out for myself. Thank you!)

[pastelwitchling]

Cinderella (1/?)

“The death of Alex's mother changes his father for the worst. Jesse no longer sees his little prince, but a reminder of all that he has lost.

Cast away to the attic, Alex grows up under the harsh reign of the wicked man his father has become. He begins to lose hope that he will ever have the love of a family again . . . then he meets Prince Michael, and everything changes.

When Michael announces a ball, and Alex is forbidden to go, it takes the magic of a fairy godmother to make his dream come true.”

read on ao3

I have no idea how many chapters this will be, I just know that I want to do this story justice, as Cinderella is one of my favorite Disney princesses. If you enjoyed reading this even a little bit, please comment and share, as it always makes the world of a difference ❤

tags: malex, malex cinderella au, malex fluff, malex angst, malex happily ever after, so much magic, and kindness, and courage

***

               “Mother!” nine-year-old Alex called as he ran through the halls of his home. “Mother!”

               He followed the lovely sound of humming, like a river in the midst of sparkling spring, and found his mother in the kitchen, standing before the stove, her dark hair pulled back with a blue ribbon and her even darker eyes shining with the sunlight pouring in through the open windows.

               She smiled. “Calm yourself, darling, before you wake your brothers.”

               “But, mother!” Alex whined, tugging at her apron. “I’ve just had the most wonderful dream!”

               His mother laughed, her voice like honey as she picked him up and placed him on the counter next to her. “Have you? And what was it about?”

               “The mice!” he said eagerly. “In the gardens! They were talking to me!”

               “My, that sounds exciting!”

               “It was! Jacques and Gus and Marie – all of them spoke to me! We were having a tea party, and the birds poured the tea for us –”

               “How very helpful of them,” his mother said with an approving nod.

               “The mice thought so, too! And then they said so! And then they gave me a gift for being their friend!”

               “Goodness, what did they give you?”

               “A new coat!” Alex said happily. “Wasn’t that nice of them?”

               “So very kind,” she agreed, and laughed, folding Alex into her chest. “Oh my darling, I’m so happy you enjoyed your tea party.”

               Alex melted against her, breathing in her scent of lilacs and the leftover meat she was cooking for breakfast. She was warmer than usual, but it comforted Alex in the cold of morning. He giggled. “Mother, it wasn’t a real tea party. It was only just a dream.”

               “Well,” his mother pulled back, placing her hands on her hips. “You know what they say about dreams, don’t you?”

               Alex blinked, and shook his head.

               His mother smiled knowingly. “A dream is a wish your heart makes.”

               “But what does that mean, mother?” he asked.

               “It means, my dear, that if you are good and kind and wish with all of your heart,” she winked, and poked his nose, making him laugh, “then that dream that you wish will certainly come true.”

               A door opened somewhere down the hall, and Alex nearly fell off the counter in his excitement. “Father!” he called. “Father, good morning!”

               Jesse Manes’ low chuckle sounded in the hallway before he stepped into the kitchen. There were spots of mud on his trousers where the boots had not reached, and he was barefoot.

               “Good morning, my beautiful son!” Jesse exclaimed, raising Alex up above his head.

               “Honestly, you two,” Alex’s mother laughed. “You will wake the boys!”

               “Good!” Jesse said promptly, keeping Alex on his hip. “They ought to be up early, like Alex! What’re they sleeping in for?”

               She shook her head, her eyes fond. “Oh, Jesse . . .”

               “No, father!” Alex said. “We must be kind to them! Isn’t that right, mother?”

               “My prince,” Alex’s mother cooed, taking him from a laughing Jesse’s arms. “Aren’t you wonderful?”

               “It’s because he’s so much like you,” Jesse said, and kissed his wife’s cheek before kissing Alex’s as well. “My queen, and my little prince. How I treasure you.”

               Alex rested his head on his mother’s shoulder, listening to his parents’ recounting of their mornings, the loveliness of the weather, the absurdity of the chickens.

               If I can have one wish, Alex thought happily, then I wish for this moment to last forever. Alex closed his eyes, eager for the dream that would follow.

               The following morning, however, was a less cheerful one as Alex ran to the kitchen to find his mother was not there. None of the chefs or servants had seen her. He searched outside where his father was tending to the horses himself, laughing with the stable hands. Alex looked around, but there was no sign of his mother.

               Jesse spotted him, and called, “Alex! What’re you doing out in the cold, my son?”

               “I’m looking for mother!” Alex said. “I can’t find her!”

               He tilted his head, smiling. “Has she not awoken yet? Very odd indeed. Best go tell her the sun is up, sweetheart!”

               “Yes, father!” Alex said, and off he scurried to the grand bedroom on the second floor. The pale-blue carpet lining the long hall was soft under his feet, the walls covered in framed paintings of flowers, green hills, waterfalls – all which Alex’s mother had painted herself in the garden.

               Alex’s father would always ask him for his help pinning them up. “I could never do it without my little helper,” Jesse would say warmly.

               When Alex reached the double doors, he knocked. “Mother!” She did not answer. Alex pulled on the door handle with both hands and went inside. The curtains were pulled back, the morning sun pouring in.

               Alex almost leapt onto the bed, remembered it would be rude to wake his mother so suddenly, and stood at her bedside. Her face was red.

               “Mother,” Alex whispered as softly as he could. “Mother, father says it’s time to wake up now.”

               If his mother could hear him, she was pretending not to. Alex jumped a little bit on his toes. “Mother? Are you all right?”

               He poked her nose, hoping to make her laugh as she always made him laugh. He faltered. It’s too warm, he thought. Alex touched her cheek, and snatched his hand back with a gasp.

               Without another word, Alex ran out. He didn’t dare start calling for his father until he was back outside, afraid his mother would hear him and he would break her rest.

               “Father!” he called, his voice cracking as his eyes burned. “Father, please, come quick!”

               Jesse caught his son’s expression and his smile faltered. “Alex?” he hurried to him. “What’s wrong?”

               “It’s mother,” Alex cried before he could help himself. “Father, her skin is like fire!”

               Jesse’s face fell, and he muttered, “What?” before he ran off without waiting for Alex’s response.

               Alex hurried after him, but stopped at the doorway to his parents’ room this time. He watched, his small hand gripping the doorway tightly, as Jesse murmured something incoherent to his wife, holding her up and pushing her hair back from her face.

               “Darling?” Alex caught. “Darling, can you hear me? That’s right, look at me, there you are. You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just fine.”

               Alex swallowed. He was fairly certain he was carving into the wood with his nails, but he hardly felt it as he stared at the scene before him. Something that he could not describe with his young mind came over him in that moment, something paralyzing that kept him frozen at the doorway, tears falling silently, even as his father ran to get a physician. Later on, Alex would recognize that dark cloud as dread, for he had known then, though he could not say how, that his mother would not wake again.

                 Alex did not remember much of the funeral. Only that he and his brothers and father had worn black, that several people took their hands and wished them well, that he was hugged by friends of his mother who were always so kind and good to him. He had not cried, for he felt his body had no tears left to give. He stood there, however, long after his father and brothers left.

               The weeks that followed were spent in silence. The windows were always curtained, Alex’s father did not react well to being woken in the mornings.

               “Leave me,” was all he would say whenever Alex came into his room with a tray of tea and butter and bread that he had fixed himself. His eyes were so numb and dark that Alex left his chamber with tears burning, threatening to spill, every time.

               “We have to help him,” Alex urged his brothers who gathered in Clay’s bedroom. Clay and Flint sat side by side, Clay staring listlessly at a page of his book, Flint shredding a daisy between his fingers.

               “Leave it alone, Alex,” Flint always answered.

               “He’s an adult,” Gregory always tried more softly. “He doesn’t need our help.”

               “Everyone needs help,” Alex pleaded. “Perhaps if you came with me, and we all told him our favorite stories of mother –”

               “Stop talking,” Clay murmured. Clay, who was always so kind to him, looked at him now as though resentful. “You don’t understand how any of us feel, you’re just a stupid child. Mother hasn’t just gone to the market, she won’t be back any moment now.”

               “Clay –” Gregory started.

               “—is right,” Flint finished, settling on Alex with the same glare. “Mother’s gone. You’re too young to know what that means.”

               Alex clenched his fists at his sides, and he started to storm out . . . then he stopped at the door. He whipped around, his tears falling freely now.

               “I know what it means,” he said fiercely. “I know that I miss her, too. I know that she wouldn’t want this. I’m not going to abandon him,” he wiped the tears roughly with his sleeve, “or any of you.”

               Alex left without a word from any of them.

               He tried and tried to see his father, to speak to him, even from outside his door, but Jesse did not see anyone. Slowly, more and more of the maids and servants left as Jesse failed to pay them, not that he seemed to mind. Only a few remained, and Alex was glad for the company, for his brothers seemed to rarely stomach the sight of him anymore either, though he could not tell why.

               Then one day, as Alex wandered his room, stripping the dirty sheets and linens for washing – he didn’t mind helping to clean the house and feed the animals, for he felt he was helping his father best in this, the only way he could – he sang a familiar song, the first time he’d found himself able to sing it; a song his mother often sang when she cooked.

               Alex waved to the birds as he passed the windows, and laughed as they flew in circles around each other. He was still singing when the door to his room suddenly swung open with a –

               BANG!

               Alex jumped, whipping around. His father stood there on the threshold, his robe hanging off his shoulders as he panted. His eyes were wide and red-rimmed. It was the first time he’d been out of bed. He looked around the room, frantically searching for something, then his eyes settled on Alex.

               When he didn’t speak, Alex tried softly, “Father . . . are you all right?”

               “I – I thought –” Jesse stammered, his brows pinched. “That song . . .”

               “It was mother’s,” Alex supplied helpfully, his grip on his bedsheets tight.

               His father, to his relief, didn’t seem angered or burst into tears by his words. Instead, he nodded slowly, his eyes on Alex, as though just realizing something. “Yes.” He knelt in front of Alex. “You’re so much like her, aren’t you?”

               Alex’s eyes burned and his words cracked as he whispered, “I am?”

               “She was lovely, too,” he said miserably, and Alex hesitated.

               “Father,” he tried, “a-are you hungry? Would you like me to make you something?”

               “No,” he said, wringing his hands together as he took in Alex’s room, as though it was the first time he was seeing it. “No, my son, no. I do, however, have another small request.”

               Alex stood attentive at once, alert. “Yes?”

               “I was hoping to move your mother’s things,” he said, “but I want them somewhere tidied and proper to her memory.”

               “Oh,” Alex said at once, “I can tidy whichever room you’d like!”

               “I – I know you can,” Jesse said, shutting his eyes as though Alex’s voice was worsening the headaches he’d complained of. Alex pressed his lips together, waiting. “I thought, however, it would be far more meaningful if we could put her belongings . . . here. In your room.”

               “My room?” Alex blinked, and grinned widely. “Yes, of course! I’ll be happy to look after mother’s –”

               “And of course,” Jesse went on, “I wouldn’t ask you to share your comfort with her old things. That’s why I’ve been thinking it may be easier for you to move into a quieter room, one that wouldn’t need so much looking after. One where you may . . .” his eye twitched, “sing to your heart’s content, and not worry about disrupting anyone’s peace.”

               Alex faltered. Disrupting?

               “I think the attic ought to do nicely, don’t you?”

               “The attic?”

               “A wonderful idea, son,” Jesse nodded, no longer looking at Alex as he stood and backed away from him. “Why don’t you gather all of this bric-a-brac and take it upstairs, eh?”

               “Er – all right, father. If you really think this will help you feel better.”

               “There’s my good prince,” Jesse murmured, and, his eyes still unable to meet Alex’s, he turned and left the room.

               Alex clutched his sheets tightly, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. It’s all right, he thought. This is for the best. It’s for father, for my brothers. It’s for the best.

               Alex kept reminding himself of that as he gathered his few things – a flower he’d picked from the garden and placed in a small wooden vase, his favorite book, and his favorite blue blanket. The attic door creaked as it swung open, and Alex heard the faint scattering of tiny paws across wooden floors.

               The window was long, letting in the faint remnants of twilight and giving everything a blue and violet glow. Alex swallowed and stepped inside, setting his things on the floor before climbing onto the narrow bed. The mattress was soft, so he supposed that was good. He looked down and saw a few mice peeking their heads at him before scuttling back into the shadows.

               “Don’t be afraid,” Alex said with a soft smile, though for some reason, he could not let go of the mattress. “I’m a friend. I’m terribly sorry for bothering you. At any rate, I won’t be up here long. It’s only until father feels better, you see.”

               Even as he said the words, Alex’s nails dug deeper into the mattress. Even as he said them, his heart still ached and something like grief filled his chest. Why he felt such sorrow, he could not say, for he could not have known in that moment that his father would never truly ever feel better again.

[jq37]

The Case File – Mice and Murder Ep 2

The Case of the Dismal Dinner

Summary

Welcome back to our flashback/Tisch fight already in progress where we learn what Daisy and Sly’s shared look was about while Rekha and Grant go for the proverbial jugular emotionally. It’s 12 years ago and Sylvester is tracking down a stolen diadem, the very same diadem that he sees Daisy swipe off the thief who has it (a jackal named Roscoe McCoy in case that matters). Sly swipes it back from her and, when she notices, she sniffs it down to his train car where he is sitting in the dark, waiting for her. He doesn’t turn the lights on, opting instead to dramatically strike a match to light his pipe, illuminating himself sitting in a big chair, holding the stolen item.

Daisy tries to bluff like she’s Virginia Chase, the owner of the diadem, but Sly knows that’s not true because he was hired by the real Virginia to track it down. Daisy is usually a better liar than this but she is insta-smitten by this figurative and literal fox and it’s throwing her off her game. But before they can continue their little tete-a-tete, they hear a gunshot ring out from Daisy’s room and know Roscoe and his guys are coming after her. Sly stuffs Daisy in a trunk before the boys show up and they actually seem a little impressed to meet him, him being a famous detective and all, but a Nat 1 deception means they hear Daisy being huffy in the chest and a fight/escape scene that Brennan takes over narration for ensues. 

After that, Sly and Daisy become close really quickly and partners in both senses of the word. Daisy tells him she’s an American PI and they work together on cases, travel the world, and become engaged within the year. But, the day before the wedding, when Sly is alone, he discovers all the documentation proving that Daisy lied about who she is, is actually a criminal, and has been using their partnership to sell information to other criminals.

She shows up and tries to pretend like she’s being set up but he replies, “You being duped is the only lie you’ve told I can’t believe.” He says that being with her changed him. He didn’t think he had it in him to actually love another person. He forgives her. He still wants to get married. Daisy is thrown by this reaction. She tells him she’s not gonna change for him and he might as well leave her. She’s being all unapologetic femme fatale about it but he gets the sense that under her bravado she’s low key pleading with him to give up on her. He doesn’t want to. He can’t. He still shows up the next day in his wedding tux. Daisy is nowhere to be seen. When he goes home, there’s a deerstalker cap on his porch and a note that just reads “-D”.

And we snap back to the present where Daisy is trying to figure out if she can take advantage of Lucretia’s fascination with the occult and all the rich vulnerable people present to make some money. Meanwhile, Sly has been totally rocked by seeing Daisy and is drowning his sorrows at the bar with Ollie, the otter bartender. Squire Badger (which is what I’ll be calling William) shows up and, in not so many words, threatens Sly for having not solved the case and making a fool of him. He says, “You’re not gonna rub my nose in this.” Move your nose then bitch, says Sly on a dirty 20 intimidation check. He’s sad about girl problems, not you! Squire Badger is scared off, but he looks like he knows something that Sly doesn’t. That someone is coming for him. 

Buckster (and Ian too btw) clocked the above conversation and sidles up to Sly at the bar. See, not only does Buckster know about Sly and Daisy’s history, he knew it was happening *while* it was happening. Sly used up all his cool swagger on the Squire so by the time Buckster shows up he’s a whole mess over Daisy. Buckster starts implying that maybe they can help each other out since they both dislike the Squire and with Sly’s Nat 20 Insight, they can totally clock each other’s double meanings perfectly. It’s a very cool game thing where Sly and Buckster are having an innocuous conversation about the weather or whatever but Grant and Sam are just saying what they mean. It’s like they’re having a telepathic conversation. Sly agrees that the enemy of his enemy is his friend and he’ll go along with Buck’s plans as long as he can keep his hands clean, even if he doesn’t really care for Buck himself. 

At the same time Gangie is in the kitchens getting fed (see the notes for a full list of kitchen staffers and other NPCs) and after the staff leaves, Gangie is told by Ambrose Harding (the Squire’s turtle valet) that there’s is business for him to attend to after dinner. 

Buckster talks to Lawrence Longfoot--the rabbit photographer from last ep who we learn runs a trash newspaper. He and Buck bond over being trash and he gets a pic of Sly and Buck together. 

Vicar Ian goes to talk to the Squire and basically tries to (openly) suss out whether the money was a bribe or a setup or what? Like, people are fully there (including the Lady Fawnbrook and her gossipy cat wife Tabitha). They snipe at each other a bit and then the Squire reveals that he’s talked him up to the Cardinal and the Cardinal agreed that he’s such a good vicar, he should be moved to Siberia. The decision has already been made and Ian doesn’t have the pull in the church to do anything about it. Yikes. 

Before dinner, the rat butler catches Buck and asks if he has time to talk to Squire Badger. Buck agrees to go with him and he’s taken to the billiards room where the Squire is along with Harding and James Hawkins, Squire’s Hawk war buddy (a literal war hawk). Buck immediately puts his foot in his mouth by messing up the Squire’s title with his American ignorance of British peerage rules which annoys him, the elitism of it all. The Squire’s friends leave and then Buck starts talking about PR and how this whole situation has been bad PR for the Squire and it would be a shame if his PR got even worse. The suggestion of blackmail sends the Squire into a full honey badger don’t care style rage and he knocks TF out of Buck, flips the pool table, and then catches himself and scurries off. Daisy, Sly, and Gangie all hear this conversation from their positions in the house via the pipes running through the manor. Buck picks himself up and, on a 25, realizes that two of the mouse maids were hiding behind a curtain, hearing the whole thing (specifically, Edwina Thimble and Carolyn Dickory--oh like hickory dickory doc, BRENNAN) . They were playing hooky so he flips them a coin each and they all agree that no one saw or heard anything. “Two blind mice, see how they run,” he quips as they leave (sidenote, what a morbid nursery rhyme to exist in that world--to be fair, it’s pretty morbid as is).

Lucretia decides to turn the séance into a post dinner séance but still brings Daisy and Lars to see her occult room which is full of crap from, as Rekha said, “1800s Party City”. Lucretia does a hilariously vague read on Daisy and says that there’s something happening with her involving a man she knew or maybe still knows but she’s in her feelings about Sly so it kinda shakes her up. She tries to get Lucretia to charge for her “””incredible gift””” (so she can skim off the top of course) but Lucretia thinks it would be a misuse of her ~talents~. She does give Daisy an incredibly broad as to be useless even if magic exists blessing before she leaves. 

Once she does, Daisy scopes out the room (which she realizes must have been retrofitted for Lucretia and wasn’t previously a séance room) and sees that the one thing in the room that doesn’t really match the aesthetic is a giant portrait of one of the previous squire badgers. On a 24 she notices two things: (1) the painting has recently been restored with new paint and (2) the frame is bolted to the wall. She wants to check it out but Lars is right there so she makes a note to check it out later and leaves. 

Lars, being a very ride or die friend for Sly, bounds after her and basically calls her trash and tries to tempt her with garbage so she’ll lose composure and start chowing down. She drools at the sight but keeps it together and leaves. Lars runs off to tell Sly that they were a good good dog and gives him a full play by play. 

Gangie meanwhile is watching a small argument between the butler and Harding in the servant’s quarters hallway and he realizes that he’s being talked about in veiled language. The butler is questioning Gangie’s employment and Harding says that, as servants, they shouldn’t question their master and that Gangie is employed for reasons that Squire Badger is aware of and reasons he is not. Hmm. Gangie realizes that Harding knows about his past which is weird because Gangie’s criminal record doesn’t follow him. There’s no internet. So what reason would this guy have to know about him?

Gangie doesn’t like this and decides to dip and steal some silverware on the way out. Mrs. Molesley (who I’ll be calling Mrs. M from now on) helps him (lol I’m not entirely sure if she didn’t know what he was doing or if she’s just down with stealing) and says that she’s been working there since Squire Badger was in diapers (she was his nanny) and if anyone bullies Gangie, she’ll take care of them. She also offers to make him a sweater so he doesn’t get cold and she’s just so nice that Gangie has to say yes. He looks to make sure no one is around and gives her a dandelion he picked. Cute!!!

And now it’s time for dinner and our very first box of doom roll for the most terrifying encounter of all: how close you have to sit next to your bitter ex! This is of course for Sly and Daisy with higher than a 15 meaning they don’t have to sit next to each other and anything lower meaning they have to sit pretty close. It is the first BOD roll I’ve ever wanted them to fail (mmm, except maybe Adaine’s werewolf roll but that’s a different conversation). 

It’s in the 6-10 bracket which means they’re sitting across from each other (below that would have been them next to each other). Everyone is seated based on how on Squire Badger’s shitlist they are. So you have Ian at the absolute back. Sly to his right and Daisy on his left. The Buckster and Lars to the right and left after that. Then Armond (armadillo lawyer guy) and a snail guy because Brennan is a madman who cannot be stopped. Constance (Squire’s daughter) makes a toast to her dad wishing him well even though they haven’t always seen eye to eye (hmmm).

Buckster fills in Daisy on his confrontation with the Squire quietly enough that no one else hears. Daisy then turns to Sly and says she hopes they can be civil. Sly is like, “Sure Ms. DUMPSTER.” They’re the kind of exes who know exactly how to hurt each other but are also super open to being hurt. Emotional glass cannons is how Brennan describes it. 

Buckster is given a note by Harding from Squire Badger and, once dinner is over, he takes Daisy off to the side to read it. Gangie follows, unseen. Ian, who recently prayed to God and got not super clear results goes to talk to Luecretia to see if maybe ghosts can help him instead. She is, as usual, not super helpful but does rush out to get her very necessary ritual dagger and declares to everyone that if anyone sees a ghost they have to tell her. As she says this, there is a flash of lightning and, through the window, Sylvester sees just for a moment the form of his nemesis, Fletcher Cottonbotton (who is by the docks).

Anyway, Buckster reads the note. It’s a document from the Squire selling his interest in BB Industries (Buck’s oil company) to Hazel Hogswallop who is another small shareholder in BB Industries. But, in doing so, it names Josiah Jackrabbit (one of his competitors) her proxy which means he’ll be able to vote on things (and with a lot of power with all that stock).  The contract was written in fresh ink which means (1) it was probably written after their fight and (2) hasn’t been mailed yet (I smell a heist attempt). Buck rolls insight on the writing (mastermind rogue ability) and with a 27 senses that the Squire has gone off his rocker. This isn’t going to make him any money. Josiah doesn’t have enough liquid cash to pay him what this is worth. And the thing with Hazel would have taken time to set up. This has been in the works for a while and he’s been sitting on it until the time was right. And he senses, like Sly and Gangie did earlier, that someone besides the Squire is pulling the strings. 

Then Gangie suddenly hears Constance’s distressed voice through the pipes from upstairs: “Father you’re possessed! You’re a mad man! This will never work. Speak of this to me never again.” And she slams the door (Buck, Daisy, and Gangie all hear). Constance comes downstairs and Squire Badger follows, looking upset. Mrs. M checks in on him too see if he’s eaten and he kind of gruffly has her follow him (along with Mr. Harding) into the drawing room.

There is a scream. Something drops. Silence. Footsteps. A door opens. Then a voice, “My God!”

Everyone rolls initiative. Ian moves first and, upon hearing all the commotion, gathers everyone together to go towards the sound (interesting choice but sure). Daisy recognizes that the scream heard was Mrs. M but barely knows who she is. She goes towards the commotion anyway. Gangie also goes towards the scream. Buckster grabs his gun (well he says “weapon”, but it’s gotta be a gun, right?) and makes like he’s following her but actually hides. Lars and Sylvester go towards the scream. 

With everyone gathered, Ambrose opens the door. Inside they see Mrs. M, her hands covered in blood (my guess? From trying to stop the bleeding), kneeling on the ground over the dead body of the Squire. The room is a mess and stuff is scattered everywhere. There is a bloody knife in the Squire’s hand and a stab wound over his heart. Ms. M, who is distressed as hell, says there was something wrong with him. There was a flash, and she looked down and he was stabbing himself. Everyone thinks this is suspicious as hell. She was the only one in the room. Everyone looks to Sly, the famous detective who is not in the presence of a murder case in progress. What does Sly say? “Lady Lucretia. I’ve seen a ghost.”

Case Notes

I have to acknowledge how ON FIRE Grant was this episode. Like everyone was. Buck was great with the Squire. Daisy and Lars sniping at each other was fun. But man Grant had so many good lines. The “move your nose”. The heartbreak with Daisy (ugh, so sad!) And that blackout line!!! I am biased towards foxes as you can see from my avatar so I am very here for this great fox rep.

Based on the way their staredown went last ep I kinda thought Daisy was the wronged party but ugh. Slyyyyyyy. He forgave herrrrrrr. And he still went to the alter. Daisy how you could youuuuuuu?

Also, sigh, Fox and the Hound. I keep getting hit with these after the fact. 

I loved Rekha’s “Of the Chase Sapphire’s?” improv.

That racoon/mink line was so sleazy. Weird compliment but Brennan is good at being animal-racist. Sidenote, Daisy makes a comment about being careful being a fox in England which I presume is a ref to fox hunting and like the implication of that are como se dice troubling. 

Here are all the new NPCs for this ep and here’s a full NPC guide that also includes the list of names Gangie gave Buck which Buck shares with Daisy this ep.

And on that topic I can’t get over the concept of a married couple named Millie Molton and Mollie Milton. Like, did they get married solely for the bit???

The best Ian-ism of the ep was him talking about getting rejected from Siberia. Poor guy.

Fave OOC moment was everyone at the table getting aggressively patriotic in response to the Squire being dismissive to Buck. There is nothing funnier than someone singing a purposefully overwrought version of I’m Proud to Be An American. 

“It’s 2020 for us bitch!”

The moment Mrs. M said she was gonna make Gangie a sweater I was scared for her. Sweaters take a long time to get made. I was like oh no. The plot is gonna stop you from making that sweater isn’t it. I’m willing to be proven wrong (Brennan loves his maids with secrets, see: Cathilda) but she seems super sweet and if anything happens to her I’m going to be upset. 

What’s behind the painting Brennan. I know there’s a door. I know this house is full of secret tunnels and revolving bookshelves and all that. Let me see it!

One great little moment was when there was a flash of lightning and the minis for Sly and Lars like stop motion moved to look at it. Just great attention to detail. The work that gets put into this show is incredible.

Edit: A note I forgot to mention. There’s gotta be a secret door in the room where it happened, right? Like, creep in, flash of light to mess up her vision, do some shenanigans, peace out.

[ushiwakatrash]

On your knees, King! (Part 3)

Bakugou x reader, Todoroki x reader

Fantasy AU

!Warnings!: Swearing, betrayal, lil dash of angst, shitty writing, abuse, physical harm

Synopsis:

Bakugou is the esteemed King of the Kingdom of Barbarians and because he succeeded in ruling the lands that were once governed by the Yuuei Kingdom, an offering must be made for the peace of the people. As the so-called ‘black sheep’ of the royal family, the King of Yuuei a.k.a. your father, offered you–naming you the most precious thing he could give; but you know the truth behind his words.

PART III

← Part 2           Part 4 →

Things started to get hectic in both the Yuuei and Barbarian kingdoms for only a few weeks were left until the wedding. Seeing the decorations being put up only meant a reminder for both Shoto and (Y/n) that it was real, it was happening-- but it was happening too fast for them to comprehend.

The princess was in a daze during her meal time with the only family she had left, her father. Ever since her mother passed away, things turned into hell.  Before fully agreeing to give their daughter away, the queen stood her ground in protest and resisted the King’s order. 

Blinded by rage, he threatened his wife with a sword but still, her gaze was firm and decision never wavered. The last string of patience the king had snapped and he swung his sword towards the woman, slicing her deep from the chest to her abdomen. 

In his state of shock, he stood there, hands shaking. His lover was no more and all because of the stupid Barbaric king, all because of his useless daughter, he lost more then just his kingdom. He had lost his wife.

 It took a long while for the king to come to terms with the thought of his diseased lover but he channeled all his pain into making another’s life miserable. 

Out of everyone, he had to choose his poor daughter, who he had blamed for everything.

“(Y/n)! I expect you to be on your best behavior and for once not be a failure to this family. Am I clear?” A tired nod was all she could answer. The king quietly stood up from his seat and hastily made it to (Y/n)’s side. A loud smack resounded in the room.

“I am a king here and I expect you to treat me like one, you useless bitch! When I ask you a question, answer me properly!” This was the king nobody from outside knew about. Only the people inside the palace knew about the true nature of this ‘kind’ king.

“Yes, your majesty. I have made a mistake.” The old man just scoffed and retreated to his room, leaving his daughter alone to dine. Because she is the Princess of the commoners, people from the palace were often enraged to see her being treated poorly by the only real family she had.

With no words being said, a cloth with cool water was handed to her by one of her most trusted maids, Ochako. “Milady, it is to avoid swelling.” (Y/n) gratefully took it and dabbed it over the reddening spot on her cheek.

“Now that my father is away and in his quarters, won’t you maids join me for my meal? Let’s leave some for the guards standing in the doorway as well.” This occurrence happened frequently. They knew it was no bribe from the princess, but pure genuine kindness. She was a far better ruler than her damn father.

“But ma’am...” the princess slouched in her seat to get comfortable “Oh come on, we’ve been doing this for quite some time now! I don’t wanna eat alone” she unleashed her puppy eyes and the maids couldn’t refuse any longer.

Her hand maid ushered the rest of the servants in the room to take their seats and they joyfully shared stories over the table. See, (Y/n) was really interested in the commoner life not to compare to her own, but to get to know the ways of her people. 

This is why even if the king treats her badly, the servants in the palace would never turn against her and if they had to take sides, they would all go to princess’ aide. 

“Milady, how are things with your fiancé?” the bold maid named Mina asked. “M-Mina?! You can’t just ask things like that!” The head maid Momo scolded. “No it’s okay Momo, guys you’re my friends just drop the Milady shit and call me (Y/n)”

Mina gave a victory smile to Momo and the the latter just sighed. “I haven’t met him yet in all honesty, but I think we’re going to their castle in a few days, or maybe tomorrow. I didn’t really listen to what that stupid old fart told me” 

They held their laughter at the nickname the king’s daughter had for him. “I hope even if he is one of those Barbaric bastards, he treats you fairly” Ochako had a sad smile on her face. The princess already had enough of her father’s torturing so having a bad husband would only continue her hell.

“In all honesty, I thought you would be wed to Prince Shoto. You were such a good match! I’m sure you would be happy with him” “Yes, Jiro that was the plan but it seems that fate had decided to push us apart. I’m sure I would have been happy but I’m not closing my doors to the thought of the new King as a husband. Maybe he can entertain me.”

“You can hunt together or maybe go on horse rides to lakes to watch the sunset!” (Y/n) knew this was too good to be true. Her soon to be husband was a brute, it would be weird if he was indeed that romantic. “Hah. I doubt he even has a romantic bone in his body. Anyway, I’ll be leaving first, girls. Ochako would you be a dear and please prepare my bath after you’re done eating. Do not worry, you can take your time and rest. Goodnight to all of you.”

“Sure thing princess!” “May you rest well.” “Nighty, (Y/n)”!”

-- 

“Oi hag, what kind of woman is she anyway? If it’s just some pissy girl I’d rather decapitate her family.” The older blonde smacked hiS HEAD. “Watch that stupid mouth of your brat! I’m sure she’s the perfect match for you. When has your mother been wrong?” The former queen smirked.

“She better not be weak. I don’t want my reputation to plummet because of some woman. I’m leaving with Kirishima to go hunt!” “Bring me a fat boar while you’re at it!”

--

Kirishima flew freely in the skies with Bakugou sitting snug on his back. At the same time, (Y/n) went to the woods after eating to let off some steam. Every time she thinks about her stupid father, rage fills her head. Nothing was her fault so why was she treated so badly.

The special spot (Y/n) and the friend who gave her necklace was her safe place. It was also the best spot to hunt boars, pigeons and if you’re lucky, deers.

She brought a bow and a sword with her and began to position herself to be hidden from her preys. Her sharp gaze caught a healthy fat boar in sight and the same time her arrow hit, a blade fell from the sky.

“Who’s the fuck did this to my fucking boar?!” A big gust of wind blew and standing before her was a huge red dragon, scales as red and as shiny as rubies.

“That’s my boar fuckface! Look for your own!” A blonde muscular man hopped off the dragon’s back. The Princess had put her cloak on to seal her identify, the man had a hood on too but his muscles were out for the world to see.

“You deaf, boy?! If you weren’t flying so high, you could have seen that my arrow had already pierced it before your dull blade could. Hands off my catch!” The man pulled the sword out of the boar and pointed it at the princess.

“No way, it’s mine! If you want it, fight for it!” (Y/n) wasted no time as she unsheathed her own weapon from it’s scabbard and went in for an attack. The blonde was surprised at the sudden movement of the woman but blocked her sword nonetheless. 

“You got spunk woman, but can you even handle my strength?” “Hah please, I can take you on any day, dandelion!” Their sparring took quite a while and Kirishima just sat at the back with a slight worried look on his face.

The girl took notice of the dragon’s structure and thought maybe it was hungry, but in fact Kirishima was just getting bored. When she managed to push her opponent back a little, she ran towards the boar and threw it at the dragon.

“Here boy, catch!” the smell of meat made Kirishima quickly respond and at the end of the duel, it was the red dragon who immersed victorious. 

(Y/n) laughed at the face the man made when their loot was snagged by the dragon. “Oi Kirishima! Why’d you eat it?!” The dragon just huffed in response. The girl went close to the dragon to try to pet it and because of the treat given by her, Kirishima bent his head to get the pats he loved. 

She then directed her attention to the male with a huge scowl on his face. Digging through her pouch, she handed him a loaf of bread and cheese. “Here, take it. I enjoyed our spar. I would have loved to ask for your name and to spar another time, but I think it’s impossible now.” she smiled sadly.

The blonde on the other hand only got curious “Why?” “I’m getting married soon. I can’t just hang around guys freely.” The sun was starting to set and people may have started to look for her in the palace.

“It’s time for me to go. If we see each other again, let’s exchange names, dandelion. I hope you can take me to the skies some time Kirishima! Have a safe journey home”

She didn’t wait for their response as she fled the scene quickly. 

Taglist: @the-sander-fander @cathwritestragediesnotsins @emilymikado @itsmysticalmystery

Taglist is open!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Eye of the Storm 7

Warnings: nonconsensual sex (series)

This is dark!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a new servant at the palace of Asgard but the job isn’t so easy as you thought.

Note: Loki’s really starting to poke at Thor and it’s all getting a bit messy isn’t it? In other news, I’m going to try to make some new tumblr masterlists today and fingers crossed they work!

Also, obligatory call out of @lokislastlove​ because I know it just bugs her so much. Blame her for everything.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Thor’s nostrils flared as he stared in angry confusion at his brother. You clung to the blanket and barely dared to breathe as the brothers challenged each other wordlessly. Neither was backing down as the silence threatened to strangle you entirely.

“Keep her waiting long enough and she’ll come looking for you herself,” Loki taunted. “I doubt she’d find this scene half as amusing as myself.”

“Get dressed,” Thor growled at you as he marched towards his brother. “And you, get out.”

He made to grab Loki who swiftly dodged him, stepping backwards through the door and chuckling at his brother’s chagrin. Thor slammed the door between them and turned back to you. You blinked as you clutched the blanket tightly.

“I won’t tell you again.” He hissed. “And when you’ve finished, you will attend to my own wardrobe.” He snapped his fingers. “Be quick about it.”

You recoiled and flung the blanket back on the bed. You scurried around to the bath chamber as Thor grumbled and approached the window. You rushed to grab your clothing from the counter and dressed with fumbling fingers. You returned to Thor as he leaned on the window frame and shook his head.

“Already my wife does irk me,” Thor snarled as he turned back. “Oh, I do suspect my brother chose her for that very reason.”

You went to the wardrobe and pulled out a white tunic trimmed with gold and some pale breeches to match. You added a pair of under shorts and socks to your pile and approached Thor cautiously. You handed him his undergarment that he pulled on himself and then you dressed him as you had the day before. 

He brushed out his long hair and let your braid two strands behind his head as he tidied his beard with a small comb. He checked his appearance one last time in the gilt-framed mirror and in an instant, his expression changed. He was no longer the spiteful and insatiable man but the valiant and amiable king. The seamless shift made you shiver.

He headed for the door and you got ahead of him to open it. You waited as he passed through and followed tentatively. Loki played with an ornament he’d taken from the mantle and looked casually to his brother.

“Presentable, she might even think you dashing,” The prince sneered as he set down the statuette.

“Surely she would not think the same of you,” Thor retorted. “Well, are we not in a hurry?”

The king went to the door and tore it open. He motioned for you to follow and Loki stepped into your path.

“And why should she come? Seems she has some work to do here and your queen does not need to be presented with some servant,” Loki crossed his arms as he faced his brother. “Let her remain and tend to her chores as you do yours.”

“You would tell me what to do?”

“I would advise you, as you appointed me to do,” Loki said coolly, “And ensure that all my effort hasn’t been for not. This is not just about you, brother, but the kingdom.”

Thor sighed and sniffed. He didn’t say anything but nodded and stomped out of the room.

“Do stop dragging your ass,” Thor barked from the corridor. “You do inhibit my duty.”

Loki snickered and turned back slightly to look at you, his green eyes sparkled.

“Thank me later for the respite,” He said softly. “I shall try to keep him long enough that you might doze a while.”

“I--”

He held up a finger to silence you and winked.

“Later,” He assured and spun to follow his brother, his voice fluttered in the room as he spoke to Thor. “I do wish you would quit playing with your food and just eat it.”

The door muted Thor’s response, if he gave any, and you let out a long breath as you were closed in by yourself. You waited a moment before you collapsed onto the settee. Every ounce of strength seeped from you as the cushioned below coaxed your overwrought body.

🌩️

You slept for an hour, maybe longer and woke with a start. Disoriented and dizzy, you barely recalled where you were until the king’s likeness came clear, staring back at you in carefully placed strokes of pigment. The portrait loomed over you as he had and all that had transpired returned to you at once.

You rubbed your eyes and rubbed your forehead before you managed to push yourself to your feet. You stretched as you walked around the chamber. You felt weaker than usual, your arms heavy and your head buzzed. 

You straightened the cushions on the couch and went to the bedchamber to fix the bed. Then you gathered the king’s worn clothes from the counter and dumped them in the hamper. You kept on searching for tasks, trying not to think of when Thor should return.

It was as you were shaking a rug out the window that the doors finally lurched inward. Thor was silent but not alone. He clapped his hands as you turned to watch him enter. He sat heavily on the sofa as Loki shut the doors.

“Wine,” Thor demanded. “The bottle.”

You went to the cabinet of glasses and grabbed the bottle left there, uncorked and warm. You handed it to the king and he swigged deeply as he leaned back against the cushions. He belched and rested the bottle against his leg as he growled at his brother.

“Well, are we not done with this business for the day,” Thor huffed. “She is just as snobbish as she was several centuries back.”

“I’m sure she would say you are just as brutish and arrogant,” Loki teased. “And we have other business to attend to.”

“What is it? Haven’t you troubled me enough today?” Thor drank again as his finger tapped in agitation against his thigh.

“Well, we should discuss what I stumbled upon earlier.” Loki glanced over at you. “You are fortunate it was only me, you know that, don’t you, brother?”

“She is my maid, I shall punish her how I see fit for her impertinence,” Thor spat, “If I want her scourged before the court, I shall have it done and you will not--”

“Oh, I will, brother. Your betrothed should be less than amused to find her husband associating so brazenly with the help. At least, desist until the marriage is sealed. If this should fall apart,” Loki’s frustration broke through at last. “This isn’t just about an heir, it’s about Asgard. This alliance will ensure--”

“Please do not bore me with this again,” Thor grumbled. “I shall let the maid do her duties unimpeded until I am wed, alright? Happy?”

“No.” Loki shot back. “I am not a fool, brother, and your promises did lose their effect on me quite some time ago.”

Thor rolled his eyes and gulped from the long neck of the bottle. The wine dripped down his golden beard and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

“I shall oversee her myself. See that you do not interfere and I do know, should I send her back to the kitchen, you will find your way there in due time,” Loki began. “So she shall take Bradin’s place until our pact is assured.”

“You would take my own maid from me?” Thor scoffed. “Oh, I do suspect this might be less about myself than it about your own desires.”

“Do not think me so base as you. I’ve yet to descend so low and even your title cannot thrust you above me.” Loki’s tone was dangerous as he jabbed his finger towards the king. “Your. Majesty.”

Thor’s eyes sparked and his jaw ticked. He gripped the bottle tightly and looked to you. You cowered as you watched in shock. He slowly faced his brother again and shrugged.

“Take her then,” Thor snarled. “The wedding is not so far away.”

“It is not. Which has been my point,” Loki gestured you to him with two fingers. “So you best ready yourself for your marriage. I will send Bradin to tend to your rooms and meals.”

“Get out!” Thor whipped the bottle at Loki and it narrowly missed him, smashing against the wall just feet behind him. “And don’t think to talk to me as you have today ever again.”

“Come on, dear,” Loki barely flinched as he turned and beckoned you after him. “Before he does fall into a full-on tantrum.”

“Go, you snake!” Thor stood as Loki pulled open the door, “Before I strangle you with mine own hand.”

“Go on then,” Loki spun back to face his brother, ushering you into the corridor behind him. 

Thor glared at him and his broad chest rose in fury. He waved him away with his hand and kicked the low table before the couch so that it flipped. He turned his back to you and Loki shook his head as he stepped out into the hall and closed the door. He let out a low laugh as he rubbed his chin.

“He is ever so entertaining, even if he is a daft as a piece of wood,” Loki remarked and pointed you down the corridor. “A wonder you’ve lasted this long with the beast.”

“Your highness,” You accepted as you walked just a step behind him. 

His long strides were certain though he did measure his pace to accommodate you. You wound through the corridors in a tense silence. His chambers were not too far from Thor’s but enough that you felt that you could at least breath. He let you in and paid little heed to you as he strolled across the chamber.

Archways opened onto a wide balcony that overlooked the palace garden and you admired every inch of the air rooms with your eyes only. You kept by the door as he went to a tall shelf of books and browsed them. He bent closer as he read the spine of one and slipped it out.

“Did you sleep at all?” He asked as he peeked over at you. You nodded. “Not enough.”

You looked down guiltily and he flipped through the pages blindly as he paced along the chaise that stretched before the central archway. He snapped the book shut as his dark brow arched.

“I am not so… vile as my brother and I would allow you your rest. I am not so bold or improper to offer my bed but I’ve caught myself dozing on occasion in this very spot,” He nodded to the chaise, “You might grab a blanket from the chest and I will leave you be.”

You frowned. Confused.

“I don’t need to-- Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” He asked.

“Being… kind?” You uttered. “Your highness, forgive me, but--”

“Ah yes, my reputation does precede me.” He grinned. “I’ve been plain; I do enjoy goading my brother and this union does weigh heavy on my own shoulders. It is not, I confess, to protect your own hard work but my own, dear maid.”

You chewed the inside of your lip as you stared at him.

“Besides, a servant is of no use if they are asleep on their feet so I command that you lay down and rest.” He stepped away from the chaise and strode over to the doorway along the other side of the chamber. “I will be at my desk just in here. When you wake, supper should be due and I do expect you to fetch it.”

“Yes, your highness.” You said.

“Now please, do retire before you fall over,” He stopped in the doorway and looked back at you. “There has been enough theatrics this day.”

🌩️

You laid down expecting it all to be a trick. When Loki did not reemerge to order you up, you drifted off into a heavy slumber. The type in which you didn’t think or dream. That which you woke from barely aware and yet refreshed. You sat up and turned your legs over the other side of the chaise. You stood as you admired the shadows cast through the archways. It was late.

You fixed your apron and folded the blanket you’d borrowed from the large chest in the corner. You were startled as you glanced over and found Loki watching you. He leaned on the door frame as his green eyes gleamed.

“It is later than I expected but I did not want to wake you.” He said. “I’ve never minded a late supper. Oh, and if you would, bring enough for two.” He stood straight and strolled towards the archways. “There is a table out on the balcony. I prefer to eat there when weather permits.”

“Yes, your highness,” You bowed your head and he disappeared out onto the balcony, his fingers fading as the sunlight swallowed him.

You still felt rather out of place, not that you hadn’t with Thor. You slipped out into the hall and avoided passing by the royal chambers as you found your way to the stairs. Below, the kitchens were as busy as ever and returned a sense of normalcy to your mind. You loaded up your tray and covered it with the large metal lid and set back out, carefully balancing the heavy load before you.

The prince’s chambers remained as they were; quiet, peaceful, not so inhospitable as his brother’s. Well, you shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. You crossed the room, snaking around the pieces of rich furniture and stepped through the central archway. The sun reflected off the lid of your tray and you squinted as it nearly glinted in your eyes.

Loki sat at the table, his lithe finger fluttering before him as he watched his hand in thought. He didn’t acknowledge you as you announced yourself with a ‘your highness’ and set down the tray.

“You may reproach my intrusion but are you expecting company, your highness?” You asked as you uncovered the tray.

He turned to you with a coy smirk and dropped his hand.

“They’re already here,” He replied and pointed to the chair across from him. “Sit. Eat.”

“Your highness?”

“I’ve seen the tripe they feed you servants. Repulsive.” He commented. “I’d advise you accept kindness when it is granted lest you bring upon cruelty.” He sat forward and reached for the bottle which had appeared in your absence. “That is the thing about my ilk, we expect what we want and when we cannot have it, we take it anyway.”

You pressed your lips together as you mulled his words. You suspected they were as much a warning as an observation. You sat across from him and he took a plate and set it before you. Then he placed one of the goblets of wine beside it and took his own. You stared at the savoury smelling array and your mouth watered.

You resisted the urge to start shoveling it all down and instead carefully took the fork. You waited for Loki to indulge in a bite first before you took one of your own. It was delicious and he was correct in that it was better than a servant’s fare. 

He stared out at the greenery below and his gaze followed a bluebird as it swept across the sky. He set his fork down and sipped. He sat back and draped one leg over the other as he rested an arm on the table.

“It was unfortunate I could not alert you of my brother’s nature sooner. I do not often have regrets but I do feel as if… well, I cannot explain it quite so well,” He said. “I’ve seen my brother with his liaisons, I’ve seen his tempers and his lusts. Perhaps I do carry the guilt for him or for my own inaction.”

You crinkled your brow in confusion and afraid to say anything, you tasted the wine and winced.

“Perhaps it is that I do not understand this new fascination. So unlike any other he’s held before.” Loki continued. “My mother used to lecture him on how quickly he could forget one toy for the other, then one woman for the next, and now… he has decided he wants you and yet… I can tell he has not taken… all of you. He keeps himself from you, for what reason I cannot guess, and it does torture him.”

Loki took another gulp and set down his own cup.

“I wonder if he does see you as a form of punishment. I would be generous to assume my brother has a conscience and yet he might use you to flagellate his sins.” Loki traced the rim of his goblet. “And I do think I might use you for the same purpose. For the first in my life, I’ve found a device with which to control my brother.”

You swallowed and played with the stem of the goblet. You understood now. You were still just a toy. A thing to be used to one’s desires. For Thor, it was his own lust, for Loki, it was for his amusement. If he could anger Thor, goad him, bend him to his will, he would want for little more. 

You didn’t have enough hope left to be disappointed and not enough delusion to be insulted. Loki had warned you against himself as much as he had his brother. And while you could bemoan your current predicament, was it worse than your former? Would you trade the prince for the king?

[animeyanderelover]

This was requested privately by @headmastermephistopheles. Remember that there will be changes in the original story. I also skipped a lot in here because I didn’t want to rewrite the whole episode. I obviously have to split this in more than one part.

Warnings: Yandere themes, threats, manipulation, blood, death

Summary: Working for the young Phantomhive had always been very interesting, especially if his butler seemed to have a huge interest on you. You yourself had never been normal as well. But who would have thought that one visit in a town would lead you to gain two obsessed admirers and leading you to find out that you were so much less human than originally thought?

Pairing: Yandere Angela/Ash &

reader

Angel, hope of my life

“Holiday, Holiday, we’re going on a holiday! Holiday, holiday, we’re going on a holiday!” Why couldn’t they just shut up? Did they seriously expect the young master to bring you all along just so you would get some rest too? No way that the young master was that kind. You bet he had been just afraid to leave you all alone there to find his manor burned down when he and Sebastian would come back. He did trust you, but he didn’t trust the other three. But you decided to not tell them this, for their happiness sake. You noticed a signpost that you passed by. “Welcome to Houndsworth.”, you read out what stood on it. If you were completely honest with yourself, it didn’t look like the place you were heading to was the paradise on earth, more the opposite. Your suspicions were confirmed when the carriages suddenly stopped and you heard Sebastian speaking:”It seems we arrived at the village everyone.” To say that the scene in front of you was godforsaken would be too nice. “I forgot to mention something. The resort that the queen is planning is yet to be constructed.”, your young master told you. “Yes master.”, all four of you answered and you couldn’t help, but feel bad for Mey-Rin, Finny and Bardroy. Damn that child. Almost as if Sebastian had heard your thoughts his head suddenly turned around and his blood-red eyes met yours. You narrowed your eyes at him whilst he just sent you one of his charming smiles that would have worked on all other persons, but not on you.

Something about Sebastian had always been fishy, he seemed not normal, not human. The way he did everything always so perfect wasn’t normal. But there were many things that weren’t normal in this household. Best example were all the servants, including you, in there. All three of you had a pretty shitty past and all of you had been hired by Sebastian because of your special abilities. You had lived on the streets back then, having run off from the orphanage you had spent your first years of life in. Your parents had set you for whatever reason right in front of the door when you had been really young and the people working in there had taken you in. You had lived in there until you had become eight years. That’s when things had gotten bad for you for a rather abnormal reason. You didn’t know until today how exactly it was possible, but somehow your own body healed visibly faster than others. It was a really benefitting power, but humans were naturally afraid of things they couldn’t understand and so the people in the orphanage had started to avoid you because every wound you had gotten seemed to heal within a day. The children had started to call you witch and no one had wanted to do anything with you. You had felt lonely and unappreciated what had led you to the decision to leave.

Living in the streets had forced you to grow up faster, needing to fight in order to survive. You had learned many things from many people, each one of them helping you realize a important messages in life or tricks that had proofed to be very useful. You had learned how to fight and you didn’t want to compliment yourself, but you were a good fighter. You didn’t possess the strength Finny had, but you were athletic, smart and knew a lot of moves. Sebastian had encountered you one day when you had currently fought against a few other men on the street who had wanted to steal the food that you had honestly earned. You had been too busy with fighting to really hear what he had offered you, taking three from the five guys without much troubles down. When you had been ready to take the remaining two, they had already been laying on the ground, Sebastian standing over them. That’s when he had offered you to start working for his young master. You had refused, but for some reason the man hadn’t leave you alone, instead following you until you had enough and had yelled at him that if he would beat you in a fight, you would join. If you would have known how he was beforehand you would have never made this offer, but you had been so stupid at that time. The fight had been short and humiliating, you had lost and had joined the servants.

The whole landscape plus the city were in your eyes just bleak and the people in there have you some bad vibes, however, it was no wonder. They were probably all highly alert and leery. Who wouldn’t when a giant wolf was killing the citizens. Your young master was honestly such a liar. You just knew that he didn’t bring you here on a holiday. He had a mission and for the manor’s safety he had brought you all along. You felt almost disgusted when hearing that the people in here killed dogs just for fun. That was nothing, but heartless. You were thrown out of your thoughts when you suddenly heard your fellow servants making words of admiration. It looked like you had arrived at your destination. It was an old manor, nothing compared to your master’s manor, but you guessed that not everybody had a Sebastian as a butler. That’s when your eyes suddenly landed on the lady who you assumed was a maid for the one who owned this manor. You would have lied if you would have said that she wasn’t gorgeous. She was very pretty with her greyish hair and amethyst eyes. You didn’t know if she felt your intense staring because suddenly her eyes shifted in your direction. Her eyes widened and for a moment it almost looked like she had just discovered the most beautiful creature on earth. But she quickly pulled herself together and led you inside the house. You couldn’t stop staring at her. It wasn’t because she was pretty, but because of the...strange feeling you had about her. It was somewhat similar to the feeling you always had about Sebastian, yet at the same time it felt like the complete opposite. But it felt dangerous nevertheless.

You stared shocked at the walls in the room the maid had just led you in. Covered with heads from stuffed animals. It wasn’t the first time you had seen this, but the sheer amount of it was what shocked you. It almost looked like the owner of them killed just for fun. A sudden scream and a whipping noise made you turn your head around. You gasped when you saw the scene right in front of you playing. A man, most likely the owner of this house, was hitting the maid with a whip whilst yelling angrily at her. For the first two or three seconds you were speechless, disgusted by this act of cruelty. But the very next moment, before your master could even order Sebastian to do something, you suddenly sprinted towards the woman who was lying helplessly on the ground, preparing herself for the next hit. But the next hit never reached her because you suddenly jumped protectingly in front of her and catched the whip with your hand, ignoring the searing pain you felt. “And who the hell are you stupid little thing?! Get out of my way or else I won’t hesitate to hit you until you whine like a child!!” He raised his whip one more time threatening. But you didn’t move, instead you glared angrily at him. “You’re truly despicable, sir. Hitting a poor woman just like this. Don’t you have any sense of honor left in that pathetic body of yours? I warn you, the next time you attempt to hit I’ll attack. And I swear, I’ll give you each hit you gave her twice as bad back.” For a short moment the man looked shocked, clearly not having expected to hear such with dislike laced words. But in the next second his face twisted into an angry expression. “How dare you, you little brat!!”

You prepared to give him a strong kick in his private parts, but before he could even attempt to hit you he was suddenly stopped by Sebastian. “Couldn’t you have interrupted all of this earlier?!”, you snarled at him. “I waited for my master’s orders. By the way, it isn’t my fault that you played the hero.” You groaned before quickly bending down to the woman. “Miss, are you alright?!”, you asked her worriedly. She stared with wide eyes at you before letting her eyes wander to your hand where a red mark had already started to form. “Why would you do that and let yourself get hurt? I’m not worthy for you to get hurt!”, she said panicked and grabbed your hand, observing the wound carefully. She mumbled something that was, despite the fact that you were so close to her, couldn’t understand. You were a bit surprised by the way she acted, the panicked and terrified look in her face whilst looking at your hand was a bit off for the fact that it was a rather harmless wound and that the both of you had just met each other. You pulled your hand away from her almost desperate grip and she tended up as soon as she didn’t hold your hand in hers anymore. “Listen Miss. I did it because it was the right thing to do. And compared to your injuries this is nothing. By the way, my wounds heal faster than others so it shouldn’t take too long for my hand to recover.” You offered her your unharmed hand which she gladly took. She didn’t let go of your hand, holding it for a bit too long before finally letting go. She glanced shortly at the hand that had touched yours and you saw something sparkling in her eyes. An emotion which you couldn’t quite grasp. What was that? Admiration? Adoration? Love? Why the hell would she have such emotions in her eyes? You couldn’t find a solution to your questions because suddenly Sebastian tapped your shoulder. You blinked confused at him. “Didn’t you forget something (y/n)?” At first you didn’t understand before you realized it. “Damn it! I was supposed to help the others carrying all the luggage in!”

She didn’t stop staring at you. The whole time all of you were sitting on the table she didn’t stop glancing every few seconds at you. It made you feel uneasy, the emotions from before still swirling around in her eyes. It kind of unsettled you. Such strong emotions shouldn’t be reflected in a person’s eyes. Especially not after only meeting someone for barely an hour. Mey-Rin, Bardroy and especially Finny seemed to not notice that. They were busily acknowledging Angela. “...After all we servants go to stick together, right? (y/n), am I right?” You turned around to him. “I’m afraid I didn’t listen. What did you say?” Bardroy gave you a betrayed expression. “Come on, why are you always ignoring me? I said if Angela needs any help we’ll help her. Right?” All attention shifted to you since you were after Sebastian and Tanake the highest ranking servant in the house simply because Sebastian trusted you the most when it came to responsibility. One short glance in Angela’s direction made you feel nervous. She looked at you like your answer would decide something really important in her life. You could understand to some degree that it must be hard to serve for such a jerk, but that still didn’t justify these intense feelings in her eyes. But who were you to judge someone? Angela had been probably beaten up many times before so to finally have someone step in must had been a new experience for her. “Of course. Just call us when you need a few extra hands.”, you answered. “How kind of you to offer your help. Thank you all.” This sentence should have been meant to all four of you, but why was she just staring at you and made it sound like she only meant it for you. You glanced around. Did the others not realize how she kept staring at you? A sudden ringing interrupted the silence and Angela instantly stood up. “I have to go right away. My master is calling. Please excuse me.” Before she disappeared through the door she turned one more time around, glancing at you. You didn’t know why, but your gut told you that there was something dangerous about her. And so far your gut had always been right.

“How are your hands doing? Are they better?” Angela nodded. “My hands are just fine, but what about your hand. I’m far more concerned about that.” You waved your completely healed hand in front of her face. “Told you that you don’t have to worry.” She slowly stretched her hands out to grab yours and observed it closely, just like she had done it when there had been the fresh wound. “Perfect.”, she muttered with an almost worshipping gaze out. You laughed nervously and pulled your hand out once again. “Why are you keep doing this? You make me nervous with that.” She gave you a shocked expression. “I’m sorry! It wasn’t my intention. I was just so glad that your hand healed so quickly! I felt so incredibly guilty when you got hurt just for my sake. I’m not worthy of this sacrifice from your side!” Her outburst was unexpected and confused you. Why was she so concerned about this. “I’ve endured worse than this. Believe me, this was nothing compared to what I’ve endured in the past.” You had hoped to ease her a bit with this, but it had the complete opposite effect. “You got hurt even worse before?! Promise me you won’t bring yourself in troubles again!”

“Master! I beg you! Show mercy this one time! These people don’t deserve the punishment!” So much to promising her to not bring yourself in troubles again. Quite the serious troubles. Being tied up and needing to watch how the young master was chained to a wall just so the dogs could rip him to shreds was indeed very humiliating and frustrating. Not to mention that all of you were left. That was insane! You were being punished for saving a dog! You were being punished for showing humanity! What was wrong with those people?! Where was their honor?! Where was their heart?! You just wanted to punch these bastard Barrymore in his face. He was truly a pathetic human being and if you would have still been able to speak you were sure you would have cursed the whole village by now. So it was probably a good thing you weren’t able to or else you would have angered them even more. “Leave this village immediately and advice her majesty never to send her minions near it again.” You gave a muffled scream of protest out and gave your master a sharp look. “Don’t you dare to humiliate us all like this!”, you screamed in your head at him. But you shouldn’t have worried about your young master. When you heard his words you felt almost proud. Sharp and cruel with his words as ever. But when you glanced at Angela you noticed that she looked absolutely terrified at you. It wasn’t the worst situation you had dealed with. That was at least until you would be chained to this wall as well. Then you would have a problem. “...Get him!” With these words the dogs stormed straight towards Ciel. “Sebastian, you idiot! Where are you when we need you?!”

“You fool! Couldn’t you have appeared 5 minutes earlier?! Then we wouldn’t have been tied down! I mean, I understand that you needed to collect the evidence, but still!!” “Shouldn’t you thank me for saving your life?” The nerves of this man. “Thanking you?! Keep dreaming! You always need to make such a show!” You had actually a few more words to say, but couldn’t because Angela suddenly turned you around and started looking for any injuries. “I thought you promised me that you wouldn’t get yourself in troubles anymore!! Are you hurt anywhere?!” You slowly pushed her away from you. “I’m not hurt and apologize for this. But I did the right thing. I believe that it’s always worth the trouble to stand up for what you think is right.” She looked at you as if you had just spoken nonsense before you continued:”Shouldn’t you be happy as well? After all the guy who mistreated you was just sent to jail. That means you can finally be free.” “Y-you care for me?” You nodded. “It’s as Bardroy said. We servants gotta stick together.” Your attention was turned towards Finny who was holding the dead dog and crying. A shadow clouded your eyes. The dog had reminded loyal to his master the last minute. Sometimes you were surprised how much more humanity you saw in animals than in humans. “Humans can be so disgusting.”, you mumbled out. Angela glanced surprised at you. “I can’t believe that they did this. Of course they now know who was all behind this, but still. To let a living creature die like this. It’s disgraceful. Especially Henry Barrymore. Someone like him deserves to rot in hell.” Angela turned to face you fully. “Do you think that all humans are like this? Dirty?” You looked at her irritated. What was that for a question. “I...suppose that not all humans are bad. But all humans can be corrupted if they aren’t strong enough. But no one is born evil. That’s what I believe. Why asking this?” Angela didn’t answer, instead staring somewhere in the space with a thoughtful look in her eyes.

“What’s wrong Mey-Rin? Why are you screa-“, you paused your sentence when you saw the scene right in front of you. The cellar in which Barrymore had been kept was destroyed. The wall behind the wall was completely destroyed, telling you that something with incredible strength must had done this and the large pool of blood told you what faith the man most likely had suffered. “What...happened in here?”

[kaitycole]

Black Dahila

Summary: Liam and Drake finally learn what happened when Constantine confronted Eleanor and Jackson about their affair.

Word Count: 3328

Pairings: Constantine x Eleanor, Jackson x Eleanor, Jackson x Bianca

Warnings: Mentions of adultery, murder, illegitimate children

Song Choice: n/a

Part 19 of WP. To catch up, read here.

It’s not until he goes to sit down and catches a glare from Bastien that it finally hits Jackson why his former mentee is here and he makes sure to grab Luke’s arm when he goes to sit down.

Liam sits down in the arm chair that is close to the sliding glass doors he assumes leads to the backyard. He scrunches up his brows when notices Jackson’s hesitant to sit down. It has been three years since he took the throne and the weight of his title still hasn’t fully clicked with him.

“Oh no, please sit. I’m not here as King, this is your home after all.”

Jackson nods, slightly embarrassed before he lets go of Luke who sits on the left end of the couch closest to Liam and Jackson sits in his usual chair, one that is across from Liam.

“It seems a lot has changed in Cordonia.” He lets out a nervous chuckle, the atmosphere starts to feel heavy, like all the weight was resting on his shoulders.

“Leo abdicated for love, truly pulling an Edward VIII. Olivia had a lot to say about that.”

“How is Olivia?”

“She told me not to even bother to come here.” “Sounds like her. And Lythikos?” “She rules with a silver dagger, the people love it, the suitors not so much.” Jackson lets out a laugh and Liam feels himself untense for the first time since they pulled back in front of the ranch. It startles him at first, the fact that he could feel almost comfortable with the one person he wanted to set on fire. But it is truly rare that he gets a moment to just chat with someone.

“The Beaumont brothers, how are they? Bertrand married to some insufferable noble woman yet?”

Liam and Bastien share a brief exchange before the corners of Liam’s lips threatens to twitch into a smirk. “You’d honestly be surprised at who he married. He even has a son.”

“Poor woman.” Jackson jokes which gets Bastien to crack a smile.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Liam stands up, holding up his ringing phone before walking out the glass doors behind him.

“I don’t suppose we could share a drink and talk about the old days, could we?”

“I am on the clock.” Bastien continues to look straight ahead, trying to simply just avoid his old mentor. His first concern is Liam, next would Drake, then maybe once they were back in Cordonia could he worry about his own feelings on the matter.

To say Bastien is hurt would be a gross understatement, he is angry, pissed the fuck off and devasted that the man who taught him what he knew didn’t feel the need to clue him in on what happened. The fact that he had spent most of his life raising Drake and Savannah like his own because of how much he owned Jackson all while pushing down the grief and guilt he felt over their alleged deaths.

“How is that if Liam isn’t here on King’s business?”

He finally lets his eyes flick over to the man he used to look up to, keeping his face emotionless. “My job is to protect the King regardless of the business matter. You should know that or have you forgotten the duties you had sworn to uphold?”

“That was Drake, he’s almost here.” Liam walks back into the house, unintentionally interrupting their conversations. Bastien just nods, his glance refocusing on the wall in front of him, eyes scanning across the family photos lined up on the mantle.

There was no doubt in his mind that it was Eleanor’s idea to have so many photographs taken, she was like that when she married Constantine. Even before Liam was born, she had pictures taken of them with Leo, of Leo through the years and once Liam was born, even more were taken. She made sure Olivia was included in the family pictures they took, even if the official royal family photo didn’t have her in it, she still kept the ones with her in her personal photo albums. Bastien makes a mental note to have the servants look for them when he returns so that Liam will have them if he wants to see them.

*                      * “Luke, why don’t you go bring the cattle back in?”

Drake arrived just moments ago, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch to Luke, meaning he’s closest to Jackson. Liam asked to hear Jackson’s version of Eleanor’s pregnancy which prompted Jackson to basically ask Luke to leave.

“This involves me too. I’m staying.”

“We can talk about this later, Luke.”

The young man simply crosses his arms, shaking his head. He wasn’t going anywhere, after everything he’s learned over such a short amount of time, he honestly didn’t trust his dad to tell him the same details he gave his older brothers.

“I’m old enough to know. You will literally be talking about me, I’m staying.”

“I really don’t see any problem with Luke being present. He must have questions just like the rest of us.” Liam’s regal tone comes out, while Drake is used to it, the other Walkers look at him amazed. A small smile curls the left side of Jackson’s lips, he could see so much of Eleanor in him.

*                      * With shaking hands, she pulls the tests out of her pocket and hands them to him; she had taken four of them. He looks at them, unsure of how to act and he feels himself unable to breathe. The unsureness of what this meant left him with a mixture of fear and unease.

“Please say something.” She pleas, tears swelling in her eyes.

“Congratulations.”

She reaches out for his arm, the plastic tests clattering against the floor as she drops them, throwing herself into his chest, “it’s yours.”

Jackson stumbles backwards, the reality crashes into him like a strong wave, leaving him breathless and fearful for another. The question on his tongue leaves a bitter taste, knowing that the words will hurt her, wondering if she’ll react the same way Bianca did when he asked her a very similar question.

“Are you sure?”

The Queen pulls away, her expression resembling a wounded puppy whose owner just pushed it away. She sucks in her bottom lip, eyes filling with even bigger tears as she bites down on her quivering lip. She lets out a shaky breath, nodding repeatedly before she turns and walks away, leaving him and the pregnancy tests behind her.

Liam stands up, anger radiating off of him which Drake quickly picks up on, standing up as well. “I’m sorry, did you really question my mother?”

“Liam…” Drake steps forwards, hands reaching out, trying to calm his best friend.

“How dare you? How fucking dare you act as though she was just some common mistress.”

Drake’s hands are on Liam’s shoulders, pushing him backwards even though he knows Liam can easily push him out of the way. He quickly looks towards Bastien who is watching, but not moving, honestly, he’d be completely fine if Liam beat Jackson to a pulp. He was completely surprised at Drake’s behavior, growing up he would throw a right hook without hesitation and for a lot less than everything Jackson’s done over the years.

“I know what it seems, but you have to…”

“I don’t have to do shit.” Liam pushes Drake off of him, sitting back down in his chair. “She risked her life, her family, everything for you and you dared to treat her that way.”

The room quiets, no one saying anything or even moving, the tension can easily be felt. Liam feels torn, torn between saying fuck it and leaving, returning to Cordonia as if none of this ever happened, but also wanting to know more about the events that led to his mother’s behavior. Drake is torn between his dad and his best friend and Jackson is torn between doing the right thing and telling the events for what they are or saving face with at least Luke.

“Would you like to call it a day, Sir?” Bastien takes a step closer to Liam.

“No,” he shakes his head, “I can’t continue to drag this or the trip out.”

*                      * Eleanor’s stomach drops, it isn’t uncommon for Constantine to have a guardsman summon her to his office, but something feels off. The last time she had even spoken to her husband was roughly two weeks ago, the day that he picked up on her sour candy craving. She has managed to stay holed up in her suite which wasn’t too bad seeing how her morning sickness was horrific this time around.

Jackson’s nerves twist even tighter when he sees Eleanor walking towards him, seemingly going in the same direction. He had been at home when Novak came to get him, telling him the King needed to see him immediately. For the last several days he’s tried to see the Queen, to apologize, but based off the maid gossip she had locked herself in the Queen’s suite, not even letting Liam in to see her. He tries to make eye contact with her, wants to try to give her a soft, comforting smile, but her eyes stay locked on the tips of her shoes.

Novak is standing outside the King’s office, opening the door when they both get close enough, a small bow for Eleanor and Jackson suddenly understands why he’s been called when Novak’s gaze avoids his.

The scene in the office isn’t reassuring for either Eleanor or Jackson, Constantine is standing with his back to the door and Timothy is standing to the right side of the King’s desk. Jackson can see something on the desk but he can’t make out what it is. 

He turns around, sitting slightly on the edge of his desk, looking at both of them, a stone-cold expression in his eyes. Constantine stares at his wife, trying to or more like hoping that she will give him some reason to forgive her. He wants to be wrong, he wants things to go the way that they should. He wants to be told that he’s just been overthinking and connecting invisible dots, but when all signs point one way, it’s hard to go towards the other.

“How long have you been two sneaking around?” “Constantine, I…”

“I think it’s important to remind you that I already know the answers to the questions I plan on asking, there’s really no reason to lie at this point.” His words are often chilling, but the coldness of his words sinks deep into their bones, a shiver creeps down their spines.

“Over a year.” Eleanor wraps her arms around herself, trying to calm down her racing heart that’s lodging its way in her throat.

“And this?” He holds up the pregnancy tests, tossing them to the ground between them. The thin white plastic tests clatter against the floor, bouncing a bit on impact. It had been reported to him that a maid found a few tests in the guardsman suite not to mention there were some found in the Queen’s bathroom.

“Three or so months.”

Constantine’s stomach drops, but he doesn’t weaver from his stoic nature. He couldn’t exactly calculate when she could’ve gotten pregnant, but he could be for sure that she was in no way carrying an heir. But even with this reveal, he had already known that, just not really wanting to accept it. Accept the fact that he’ll most likely go down in history as the king that lost two wives.

“But there’s a chan—”

The King starts laughing, amazed at just how far his wife is willing to go to try to save her lover. She has to know that he wouldn’t have called them both there if he didn’t have all the evidence that he needed.

“These prove that to be a lie.” He grabs the thick envelope off the desk, walking closer to Eleanor, who tightens her grip around herself. “Or do you need a reminder?”

She lets out a gasp at the explicit nature of the photographs of her and Jackson, face turning red from embarrassment that her husband had seen them. It’s the first time since the pair had returned from Valtoria that she felt shameful of her actions, curious as to how he actually felt at her betrayal but scared of what his plan was.

“What’s going to happen?”

Constantine walks to his desk, sitting in the thick leather chair before swirling it around to face them, a sinister look on his face. He wants to laugh, the fact his wife cheated on him with a man that hasn’t even tried to take some of the blame baffled him. Even when Liana had left, when he knew he had nothing to do with her choice, he still carried the burden of blame because to him, a real man wouldn’t be able to tolerate the woman he loves name being tarnish in any way.

“Despite the obviousness of the paternity, I had an appointment made for you under Ellie Rhys, your two highest maids will help you disguise yourself.”

Eleanor just nods, what more can she do, she’s already done enough. Jackson still hasn’t said anything, if he was honest, he hasn’t thought much of the fact Eleanor had told him she was pregnant. He doesn’t want to think that it could be his because it means that everything will come to the surface and he isn’t ready for that. He’s not ready to own up to what he’s done, for all the damage that will be the result of his selfish actions.

** The week’s wait is dreadful for Eleanor, especially on top of her hellish morning sickness and practically nonexistent energy level. Towards the end of the week she’s surprised to see Constantine slip into her room, asking how she’s feeling. But when she tries to reach out, to get him to really look at her, he excuses himself, his only warmth being given to the unborn child.

She’s summoned to his office just a couple days later, this time without Jackson which has her completely worried, but he assures her that he just wanted to speak with her privately first. He has Timothy hand her the sealed envelope from the doctor’s office, telling her it was addressed to her not him so he didn’t open it.

He doesn’t have to ask for her the results, he can read it on her face and while he had a strong feeling it wasn’t his, a teeny piece of him had thought it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. She looks up at him, tears in her eyes, but receives no sympathy from him, his expression as icy as ever. He waves Timothy who goes to the door and lets Jackson into the office.

“You two are to leave the country, actually this side of the Atlantic. What’s that things Americans wanted?” Constantine snaps his fingers as if that gesture would trigger his memory, “ah yes, a white picket fence. Surely you two could have that ideal now.”

She sniffs, wiping a few tears from her cheeks. “What am I going to tell Liam?” “Nothing, he’ll think you died, a pretty standard death of a noble when there’s a coup.”

“A coup?” Jackson finally speaks up, much to the royal couple’s surprise.

“Ah, yes.” Constantine taps his chin before looking at Timothy, “care to explain.” “Yes, Sir.” Timothy nods before turning back to Eleanor and Jackson, proceeding to go into detail about how things will happen. That they’ve been investigating a radical group called ‘la Force de Pert’ and staging a coup, under their name, could help them take action against them.

He tells them that an announcement will be made that says the Queen was taken hostage by the group and Jackson made the heroic decision to go rescue her without backup. That night after the media left, the two of them would be escorted to a private airport where they’d be taken somewhere in America, free to live their lives however they please.

Timothy makes sure to emphasis what the King has just said, that they are never to return back to Cordonia or anywhere in Europe for that matter. That the fifty states that America has to offer should be big enough for them, even the US territories were up for grabs, but once they landed, they weren’t to cross any ocean for any reason. They weren’t to talk about their prior stations, anything related to Cordonia, the two of them were to simply fall off the face of the earth.

“You expect me to just leave Liam? Leave him here with you?” Her voice breaks, she tries to understand what is being said but the only thing she can think of is her son. “I won’t, I’m taking him with me.”

Constantine chuckles, pushing himself out of the chair, slowly striding towards Eleanor, his hand cupping her chin, forcing her to look at him. “It’s almost cute how someone in your position thinks you can tell me how things are going to happen.”

“Please, Constantine.” Her lip starts to quiver, but he tightens his grip on her face.

“You have no room to make demands.” He drops her face, turning to go back to his desk.

“I’ll just come back and take him! You will NOT keep him from me!”

“If you step foot on this side of the Atlantic,” he stops, turning around on his heel, “I will have him killed.”

There’s a heavy silence that drops over the room, it’s almost smothering as Eleanor tries to catch her breath. Tears cover her cheeks, shaking her head, trying to understand his callousness, how he could threaten his own flesh and blood.

“You wouldn’t! He’s a prince of this country!”

“He is the SPARE!” His voice booms throughout the room, causing her to flinch, his ice-cold tone ripping through her.

“Constan—” Jackson stops when he sees the bewildered expression on the King’s face.

“You may be on personal terms with the Queen, but I assure you that we are not.” He sits back down behind his desk, “I should hope you also know the same sentiment goes for your children, if you try to return.”

Jackson just nods and Eleanor looks at him horrified, confused as to how he could willingly agree to this, agree to give up his children so easily.

“Don’t look so down Ellie, it’s honorable for a guardsman to die a hero, isn’t that right, Jackson?”

“I can’t just leave my son, Constantine. You can’t ask me to do that!” Eleanor cries out, unable to stop herself from falling to her knees.

“You’re right, I’m not asking, I’m telling.” He leans back in his chair, “but are you even thinking about Liam when you shout things like that?”

She looks up at him, tears still blurring her vision, a broken expression on her face, “of course I am.”

“Tsk.” Constantine shakes his head, “think about it. If you came back for him, you’d basically be telling him that your bastard baby is more important than him. If Liam really mattered to you, you wouldn’t have put yourself in this situation to begin with, you didn’t think that I’d find out and just let it continue in the palace, did you?”

“What about Drake and Savannah?” Jackson quickly asks.

“Ah, yes. Bianca will receive a sizable compensation for her loss so they will be taken care of. They will be more than welcomed to stay at the cabin, as long as they don’t threaten Liam’s reputation.”

“Excuse me?”

“Although he is the spare, Liam has an important role to fulfill as prince. It doesn’t look good for people of his station to be involved with those with yours. Just look at the predicament at hand.”

[peaceoutofthepieces]

you were my crown

I managed to actually do that little scene for the royalty au :) I don’t know anything about how any of this stuff works so I literally just made everything up please don’t think I in any way tried to be accurate I’m talking out of my ass here.

I don’t know if anything will ever actually come of this, but this is an idea of what it would look like :)

~^~

Jens hates sitting in for Court. It’s less about the ‘criminals’ and more about the royals, the endless lines of knights and Lords and servants, eager to witness another fool. Jens doesn’t care much for fools, but he cares even less to laugh at them. He cares least for his formal attire, the sharp slacks and too-tight tunic, laced up by maids unable to even look him in the eye. They don’t even seem necessary. He’s overheating in his jacket, delicately buttoned up to the throat, the collar digging into his skin. He’d tried leaving the top hanging open, and it had hardly taken a second for his mother to give him a sharp glance, nodding to a maid that had hastily run to button it back up. Now he sits and suffocates and waits for whatever poor soul is being charged to make their way to the throne.

Jens straightens subtly in his chair, placed to the right side of his mother’s throne, and meets the boy’s eyes for half a second. Until his mother opens her mouth and orders a sharp, “Kneel.”

Before the boy can comply, one of the guards that had escorted him sets a heavy hand on his shoulder and forces him down, falling onto the stone floor in a manner that leaves Jens’s own knees aching in sympathy. The boy simply catches his breath and holds his chin high, looking straight at them and through, his jaw clenched. Jens drums his fingers on his knee in interest.

The same guard gives his head a forceful shove. “Speak your name to the Court.”

The boy takes a breath as some of his masqueraded confidence seems to slip. “Lucas. Lucas Van der Heijden.”

Jens licks his lips, cataloguing the sound of his voice, the way his mouth parts for an instant before the actual sound escapes. The name rumbles deeply around the room and seeps into the walls, encased in the brick in case it’s soon to be lost. Jens’s job is to watch, to note, and to only give judgement if asked. It often doesn’t take him long to form conclusions.

His conclusion of Lucas Van der Heijden is that he seems, at once, nothing and everything like a criminal.

He’s young, and clean cut, though his clothes are a tad too tight and an inch too short on his ankles, fraying at the hems. There’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek, a familiar sandy mixture that Jens has seen on all hostages of the castle cells. There’s an innocence to his youth and a diligence to his posture. His eyes hold a pleading light and a resolute film. Whatever his crime in regards to the Crown, he holds a loyalty to someone.

“State his crimes,” the Queen requests.

The opposite guard stares straight ahead as he speaks up. “Thievery and dishonor to the Court, Your Majesty.”

Jens can barely hold back a snort. He relaxes slightly. There’s rarely a severe punishment for a loaf of bread. The scene before him suddenly makes more sense.

His mother’s tone, however, is unusually steely. “Thievery of what?”

“Sir Viktor’s sword, Your Majesty.”

Jens blinks. A rumble of interest spreads through the Court. Lucas’s jaw tightens and he gives a minuscule shake of his head, so much so that Jens is sure he’s the only one who notices.

The Queen seems equally intrigued. “And what, boy, do you want with a sword?”

“I didn’t steal it.” Lucas speaks through gritted teeth, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “I’ve never even seen the sword before.”

“It was found under his bed, Your Majesty, free of its sheath. Sir Viktor had been missing it for a full day before organising a search.”

Jens barely resists rolling his eyes. If Viktor had been missing it that long, he’s almost in need of a punishment himself. He’s known Viktor for only over a year, becoming acquainted with him long after he’d already met his brother, Senne. Senne’s loyalty and honour, that Jens has become easily familiar with during the man’s service in his personal guard, did not seem to emanate as clearly from his brother. Jens has had few pleasures of his presence, and pinned his discomfort down to this unfamiliarity. As he sees Lucas’s expression tighten further, however, there’s something that doesn’t sit quite right with him.

The feeling only strengthens as the Queen raises her head and stares Lucas down. “You’d do best to not add dishonesty to your list, Mr Van der Heijden. The proof sits against you. If you claim not to have stolen it, how do you suppose it ended up with you?”

Lucas swallows. For a tiny second, his gaze flits over to the crowd on his left. Jens follows his gaze and sees nothing that stands out. “I didn’t steal anything,” he repeats. “I’m an artist. I have no reason for a sword.”

“And yet,” the Queen says lightly, “there was one so close to you. Are you able to explain that?”

Jens comes to the realisation too late, after noticing the hard lines of his mother’s frown and the steel underlining the easiness of her voice. This isn’t a trial—this is merely the sentencing.

“Someone else must have placed it there,” Lucas says, just as light, with just as much steel underneath.

“I’m sorry, Mr Van der Heijden, truly, but the evidence against you is not something I can simply dismiss as a wrong guess. Do you have proof, of anyone else who may have had access to your quarters? Even so much as a theory.”

“It’s not hard,” Lucas laughs slightly, “to access my quarters. From the way your guards stormed my home yesterday without so much as a knock as a notice, that seems fairly clear.”

Jens raises his brows as the Queen lowers hers. “You’d do well not to speak out of turn, boy. Evidently, my guards had every right to rip your home to shreds if they so pleased.”

Jens looks at her in surprise. He knows his mother holds a firm and stern rule, but she has never shown herself to be cruel. Jens would never have expected her to so openly disregard the rights and welfare of her people. He supposes Lucas is good at pushing buttons, and he’s somehow managed to hit a number of her’s through their short interaction. Jens glances over Lucas again, his curls scattered and shoulders straight, and feels a stab of worry in his stomach.

Help yourself, Jens silently urges. Try to win her over. Don’t make it worse.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Lucas seems to force the words out, dragging them from himself as if he was being made to pull his own teeth. “My mother—I take care of her. I worried that she would have been harmed in the fray.”

Jens watches his own mother soften slightly before regaining her resolve. “While that’s admirable of you, it doesn’t truly explain your resistance. Your lies, Mr Van der Heijden, may only lead to further searches of your home in an attempt to confirm either your guilt or your innocence. Would you not, in that case, rather save your mother the trouble?”

Jens swivels his gaze back to Lucas, watching the low blow hit, cataloguing the way the boy’s own resolve crumbles.

Then he straightens, undeterred by the hand still tightly clasped on his shoulder. “My mother has no involvement, because neither do I. I’m not lying. I stole nothing.”

The Queen regards him for another long moment, as does Jens. Then she releases a heavy sigh. “I was hoping that your cooperation would provide an option for leniency. A true explanation may have lightened your sentence, but the proof against you is overwhelming. I cannot believe that you are free of intent to threaten the Crown, due to the unusual action of your crime. I fear I have no choice.” She stands from her throne and steps down from the dais, looming over Lucas in her heavy red robes and shimmering crown. “Lucas Van der Heijden, for the charges of thievery and dishonor to the throne, I find you guilty and sentence you to death.”

The murmur this time is of a much more extensive volume, but it isn’t quite enough to drown out Jens’s incredulous burst of laughter.

All eyes turn to him, and he feels his shoulders stiffen. Lucas’s gaze is most prominent, evidently confused, with eyes wide and disbelieving. His mother’s are equally surprised, though underlaid with anger. Jens does his best to ignore his discomfort under the attention and keep a princely smile on his face. “Since when do we sentence death without proof? For a kidnapping of a sword that wasn’t put to use, no less.”

The murmur that he’d silenced picks up again, and his mother raises an unimpressed brow at him. “The proof has been presented to you as it has been presented to me. Are you aware of evidence we are not?”

“I’m aware that there is a possibility, however slim, that he is telling the truth. Even if he had stolen it and intended to put it to use, the sword has been retrieved. He presents no real immediate threat. If anything, I believe he would have committed the crime as a scared boy with family he wishes to protect. Surely that is something any of us can understand. He may be deserving of punishment, yes, but death?”

The room has fallen into utter silence. Jens doesn’t dare look at any of the Court members, but he chances a glance at Lucas. The other boy is staring back at him, with all surprise now wiped from his face. He wears a carefully constructed blank expression, that doesn’t break as Jens looks back at him.

Jens doesn’t know why he feels such a strong urge to save him. But now that he’s started, he can’t bring his own argument to an end.

“So what else do you suggest?” His mother asks this at length, unwillingly. He shouldn’t have spoken out. It wasn’t his place. It isn’t good for her, he knows, to have her rule questioned in public by her own son. But he’d argued without thinking, looking at Lucas and feeling an inexplicable need to stand up for him.

To protect.

“It’s his loyalty in question, is it not?” Jens raises a brow and waits for her nod. “So let him prove it. I’m sure someone youthful and strong could have a place serving the Court.”

The murmur picks up again. Jens resists the urge to roll his eyes.

His mother stares at him. “Your suggestion is to allow him a position in the castle?”

“He couldn’t be placed under more watch,” Jens says simply. “I would rather taste someone’s loyalty and perhaps gain a better bond than let a life go to waste.”

This murmur sounds somewhat agreeable, though it is silenced the second the Queen raises her hand. “There are no positions in the Court up for offer, and I cannot possibly gift a thief the sword he’d stolen.”

Jens doesn’t even think before he says it. “I don’t have a personal servant.”

There is, surprisingly, no murmur. The room is eerily quiet as Jens and his mother stare each other down and Lucas flits his gaze between them. It’s not a lie, and is perhaps even the reason he’s doing this. He’s tired of fussy maids lacing his shirts and buttoning his coats and buckling his cuffs. His sisters both have maid-servants, while Jens is left with an array of strangers carrying out various duties, never even able to become familiar with faces as they avoid contact and conversation at all costs. He does his best to be amicable with the castle staff, to form relationships, to form bonds. But aside from the few close friends he sees only on occasion (sons of various Lords in various agreements with his mother), and a few chosen guards, Jens spends most of his time alone.

He wouldn’t mind someone like Lucas by his side. Someone his age, who isn’t afraid to look him in the eye.

“You wish to risk letting a criminal become your personal servant? You would trust him to be so close to you?”

Jens lets his mother stare disapprovingly at him before shifting his gaze to Lucas. They consider each other, concrete met with intrigue, before Jens gives a simple shrug. “I would. It’s my risk to take, and I believe there isn’t much risk to it. If I am wrong, then I should get what’s coming to me.”

A few of the guards give a quiet titter in acceptance, and he watches as his mother looks at a spot in the crowd, before nodding her acceptance. She looks down upon Lucas. “Very well. You will have a guard assigned to you that will accompany you on any outings, alone or with the Prince. While you are in his service, there will, as always, be guards stationed at his door and extra security provided throughout the castle. It is only as a sign of trust towards my son that you are being given leniency. You should be grateful to him that you are leaving here with your life.” She looks to the guard on his left, the one that had spoken calmly to them without laying a finger on Lucas. “Assign him a room in the Prince’s quarters. Remain with him until the new measures are fully put in place. You are dismissed,” she tells the room at large.

Lucas listens to her silently, and remains wordless as the guard at his right yanks him to his feet. Jens watches on until his mother speaks up again.

“Jens, you are to accompany him now. If he is not to be trusted from the beginning then he is not to be trusted. You are also dismissed,” she says. “Though you will be meeting me again later to discuss this decision further.”

Jens bites back a sigh and rises to his feet. The intrigue spiraling up in him is quickly turning to elation. He feels that he had been entirely right to speak up and to continue to stand as his ground.

As he makes his way down the dais and is met with Lucas’s stony gaze, however, he considers that this may not be as simple as he thought.

[hamliet]

what do you think of jin guangyao and jin ling’s relationship? it’s not explored in the novel but i’m curious to know your thoughts?

Hi! So, I think it’s decently explored, but I’m with you in wishing it was explored more. I often see people lamenting that poor Jiang Cheng had to raise Jin Ling on his own, when that is canonically not the case. Jin Guangyao had just as much a role in raising Jin Ling, canonically speaking. 

We know Jin Guangyao was protective of Jin Ling, to the point of intervening on his behalf with Jiang Cheng after the Yi City debacle. We also know that he was kind to Jin Ling, gave him Fairy, and was upset when Lan Xichen worried he would harm Jin Ling (he then like, later sank to that level--or threatened to). 

When Jin Ling had a tantrum, Jin Guangyao didn’t use it to chip away at his self-worth or to punish him or even scold him. He validated his emotions and then offered him a companion in Fairy. He recognized that Jin Ling was acting out because he was lonely: he missed the parents he couldn’t even remember, and he couldn’t bond with his peers. 

Back then, he was only a few years old. He fought with the other children of Koi Tower, and didn’t feel satisfied even after he won, smashing everything in his room as he bawled his eyes out. None of the maids and servants dared approach him, afraid to be hit.

Grinning, the younger uncle of his snuck inside to ask, “A-Ling, what’s wrong?” He immediately smashed half a dozen vases beside Jin GuangYao’s feet. Jin GuangYao, “Uh-oh, how fierce. I’m so scared.” He shook his head as he left, pretending to be scared.

The second day, Jin Ling refused to go outside or eat anything as he sulked. Jin GuangYao walked around right outside his room. With his back against the door, Jin Ling shouted to be left alone, and suddenly the bark of a puppy came from outside the door.

He opened the door. Half-squatting, Jin GuangYao had in his arms a glistening-black puppy with round, wide eyes. He looked up and smiled, “I found this little thing but I don’t know what to call it. A-Ling, do you want to give it a name?”

The smile was so kind, so genuine that Jin Ling couldn’t believe Jin GuangYao faked it.

Hence, Jin Guangyao gave him a companion. This is actually exceptionally kind and how a parent should handle this kind of thing, imo.

However, there’s still the tragic element that part of the reason Jin Ling is alone is because of, well, Jin Guangyao. I do not think he intended for Jin Zixuan to die, much less Jiang Yanli, but there is tragedy in that he did plan for some trouble to come to Jin Zixuan after Jin Zixun went to kill Wei Wuxian. This is a common motif in Jin Guangyao’s character: he wants to get close to people, he understands people better than they understand themselves which makes him highly empathetic, but he can’t fully get close to them because he is his own worst enemy. 

The irony, though, is that the person ultimately behind the scenes, even behind Jin Guangyao, is Jin Guangshan. He basically killed his own son by conspiring with Jin Zixun to kill Wei Wuxian, his daughter-in-law’s beloved brother--and make no mistake, Jin Guangshan was likely more worried about killing Wei Wuxian than he was about saving his nephew. He also gave Jin Guangyao, the son he barely acknowledged, instructions to get rid of Wei Wuxian. As a result, he lost both his son and his nephew. The Jin Sect is, as a whole, their own worst enemy (we see this to a lesser extent with Jin Zixuan, who sucks at showing Jiang Yanli he loves her, and Jin Ling, who is lonely but acts so cruelly to other kids that they don’t want to befriend him at first). 

Back to Jin Ling and Jin Guangyao. Jin Guangyao is at first distressed Lan Xichen fears for Jin Ling when he runs into the temple, but then does indeed pull a guqin string on his nephew. He didn’t plan to kill him--that much seems obvious, and he didn’t even get injured--but he still put Jin Ling’s life at risk for his own safety’s sake, and lost his hand for it. Again: you’re your own worst enemy, Jin Guangyao. By prioritizing your own safety, you endangered not only Jin Ling’s life, but the closeness you wanted. 

But, he still did not lose Jin Ling’s love, not because of his own actions, but because of Jin Ling’s choice. 

Wei WuXian, Jin GuangYao, Wen Ning—every one of them should be responsible to some extent for the deaths of his parents, every one of them gave him a reason to loathe them with all he had. But it also seemed like every one of them gave him a reason that made him unable to do so. 

The moment that gives me the most hope for the future, the moment in hte novel that tells me that no, the ending is not about just shrugging and accepting the status quo, is when Jin Ling tells off Sect Leader Yao for refusing to acknowledge Jin Guangyao’s humanity. 

Sect Leader Yao spoke in a tone with which seniors often scolded juniors of their sect, “What are you crying for? Hold back your tears. Someone like your uncle doesn’t deserve anyone’s tears. Young Master, I mean no offense, but you can’t be so weak! This is the kindness of the fairer sex. You should know what’s right and what’s wrong, and straighten up your…”

...

Jin Ling had thousands of thoughts and feelings whirling around in his heart in the beginning. Hearing Sect Leader Yao’s comments, a fire surged into his heart. He roared, “So what if I want to cry?! Who are you? What are you? Won’t leave me alone even for crying?!”

Jin Ling doesn’t care if it’s shameful for him, a young man, to cry. He doesn’t care if Jin Guangyao is hated by everyone. He won’t hate him. He makes his own decisions and announces them; thereby Jin Ling starts down a path to explore empathy and honesty together.