#I’m almost done w dark heir

[thealternatemind]

NOT CYPREAN TRUSTING VISANDER WHO HE MET TWO SECONDS AGO OVER WILL (HIS FRIEND) WHOS SAVED HIS ASS TIME AND TIME AGAIN

[bradleysass]

Brushstrokes of Black - word count: 886 - Jegulas James's grief post canon cave sacrifice

The flat was silent, save for the soft swish of James Potter’s brush against the wall. The air smelled faintly of fresh paint, sharp and acrid, and the light streaming through the windows was muted by the gray haze of a cloudy day.

He dipped the brush into the tray again, dragging it through the deep, muted blue that he’d spent far too long picking out. The walls had been a pale beige when he moved in—dull, lifeless, and wrong. He couldn’t live with that kind of emptiness, not after everything.

Not after him.

James pressed the brush to the wall again, the color spreading in long, deliberate strokes. He’d thought painting might help. It was something to do, something to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied. But as he worked, the memories slipped in anyway, unbidden and relentless.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of black—inky hair, perfectly styled and shining in the light. His breath hitched, and he turned his head sharply, but there was nothing there. Just an empty room, a blank canvas waiting to be filled.

It wasn’t the first time.

James closed his eyes, letting the brush fall to his side as he exhaled slowly. He could almost hear Regulus’s laugh, soft and rare, like a secret meant just for him. He could see the way his lips curved into a small, private smile that somehow lit up the whole world. His world.

But that world was gone now, swallowed by darkness, leaving only shadows and echoes in its wake.

With a sigh, James opened his eyes and dipped the brush into the paint again. His strokes grew faster, more erratic, the blue spreading unevenly as his thoughts spiraled. He couldn’t stop seeing Regulus in the edges of his vision, couldn’t stop remembering the way he used to sit on the edge of James’s bed, his long fingers absentmindedly tracing the spine of a book as they talked about everything and nothing.

Regulus had been a contradiction: sharp and soft, distant and deeply present. He was the Black heir, but he had burned brighter than any of them, even Sirius, though he’d never let himself believe it.

And now he was gone.

The brush faltered in James’s hand, leaving a streak of paint that dripped slowly down the wall. He swore under his breath and grabbed a rag to wipe it away, but the stain remained, faint and stubborn, like a ghost.

Like Regulus.

He leaned his forehead against the wall, the cool surface grounding him for a moment. “You bastard,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “You had to go and be a hero, didn’t you? Had to save the world and leave me here to pick up the pieces.”

Regulus had never told him the truth. Not directly. James had pieced it together later, after Kreacher’s trembling voice recounted the story of the locket and the lake, after he’d found the note Regulus had left behind.

To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this…

James had read the letter so many times he could recite it from memory. Each word was a knife, cutting deeper every time. Regulus had done it for the greater good, for the chance to bring Voldemort down, but James couldn’t help wondering—had he also done it for me?

He wanted to believe it. It was a selfish, stupid thought, but it was the only thing that made the loss bearable.

The brush fell from his hand, clattering to the floor. James turned and sank onto the couch behind him, the weight of it all pressing down on his chest. He raked a hand through his hair, his fingers catching in the messy strands.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw him again. Regulus, standing by the window, his arms crossed and a faint smirk on his lips. James froze, his breath catching in his throat. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare blink, afraid that if he did, the vision would vanish.

“I’m losing it,” James whispered to the empty room.

But the image didn’t fade. It stayed, solid and clear, as if Regulus were really there, watching him with that inscrutable expression he always wore when he thought James was being particularly ridiculous.

“You’d hate this, wouldn’t you?” James said, his voice trembling. “The paint. The mess. You’d say I’ve got no taste, and then you’d show up next week with a proper color swatch and a plan.”

Regulus didn’t answer. He only smiled, the corners of his mouth softening into something warmer, something James had seen only a handful of times.

James closed his eyes, tears slipping free despite his best efforts to hold them back. When he opened them again, the room was empty.

The brush lay forgotten on the floor, a small puddle of blue spreading beneath it. James picked it up slowly, his hands steady now as he dipped it back into the paint.

The walls wouldn’t fix anything. They wouldn’t bring him back. But maybe, just maybe, they could hold the pieces of James’s grief, layer by layer, until he could breathe again.

And as the blue spread across the walls, rich and deep, James thought he saw Regulus’s smile reflected in the strokes.

[starjane312]

Kit Tanthalos x OC

Big Masterlist

Masterlist

Chapter 10

We go to the river. I wash my Arms and Dry them. She takes a rag and cleans my Face.

J: Must’ve happened when I stroked my Hair out of my Face.

K: You think ? Not when you slashed that Head of.

I grin.

J: What ? You thought that was hot ?

K: Pfff no.

My Grin falls. She looks at me with a Mischievous Smirk.

J: You little Minx. 

She pushes me so that I lay on my Back and sits down on my Lap to lean over me. Her Hands are next to my Head.

K: I thought it was very Hot. Until you picked the Head up.

I laugh.

J: I thought it was Funny.

She rolls her eyes. I look at her and push a strand of Hair out of her Face. She smiles softly and gives me a Kiss. I lay my Hands on her Hips and Deepen it. Out of breath we break the kiss. I chuckle against her Lips. Then I turn us around, so she lays on her back.

J: I love you.

K: I love you More.

She presses her Lips back on mine. I break the Kiss and start kissing down her Jaw and to her neck. She Tilts her Head back and Buries her Hands in my Hair. 

B: You two coming back ? The Food is Almost Ready.

We part and I let out an annoyed breath.

J: Yes, we’re on our way.

I look at Kit who looks just as Annoyed.

K: Can I kill him ?

I laugh.

J: No.

I give her Belly a kiss and then Her.

J: Let’s go before they come searching for us.

I help her up and we Go back to camp. We sit down and Jade Passes us a Plate.

Ja: Might wanna fix your hair.

She smirks at both of us and fishes a leaf out of Kit’s Hair. I Fix my Hair and start Eating. After we’re done Elora goes back training and the others settle down. Kit and I go to Boorman. Wanting answers to our Questions.

B: Can I help you ?

K: I want you to tell us what happened to my father.

J: And my brother. And everything there is to know about the Kymerian Cuirass.

B: You know it’s creepy when you finish each other's sentences.

J: We’ve been Told before and couldn’t care less. 

K: Just answer our questions.

B: Not now. Tomorrow.

J: First thing in the Morning.

He Nods. So, the next Morning, we wake him up before the sun is Rising.

B: It was Ten thousand years and about Three weeks ago, Thuul, heir to the Kymerian Empire, had been sick as a Child. When his father died his younger brother Tiberius felt he’d make the Stronger King. For forty days, Tiberius layed siege to the Capitol. Starving his own people to force his brother to abdicate his Throne. So, their Mother, Annabel, a fay of the Grove, forged for her son, Thuul, a cuirass of Pure Chromium. Then she assembled the Lux Arcana. A magical key that activated the enchanted armour, so it only serve the who was Worthy of it’s awesome power. So, with no Army at his back, no knights by his Side, Thuul, the rightful King of Kymeria rode out of the city gates to meet his Tyrant brother and Two thousand Death Dealers. And he …

K: This is really fascinating. Uh I can tell they don’t call you Bore Man for Nothing, but could you just tell us about my father and Jane's brother.

I can’t bring out a word. I’ve heard this story before

B: Well, I’m Trying to but you keep …

K: Okay well can you make it short ?

B: You know, your generation has, like, zero Attention span for-for epic Tales.

K: I love tales, Okay ?

B: Well, excuse me for Trying to add a little bit Drama and Context to the night we left Tir Asleen to find the Cuirass and use it to defend the realm.

K: From the Crone ?

B: Crone, Gales, the Wyrm everybody’s got a scary name. They all mean the same thing. It’s the Darkness that swallows …

Ja: Oi.

W: Where’s Elora ?

K: Seriously ? Throw a leash on that chit already.

Jade throws Kit her sword. 

K: Spread out she couldn’t have gone that far.

Kit goes off as do the others. I still sit on the floor. Frozen. My Head is Spinning.

B: Hey Kiddo you ok ?

I look at him. He is squatting in front of me.

J: It’s you.

He looks at me Confused.

J: I remember the Story Word for word. My brother told it to me when I was Seven the Night he left. I couldn't sleep so I wrote it down. And I read it so many times.

He looks at me with a sad face.

J: I’m Right ?

He nods.

B: Yeah.

J: You promised me you would come back.

B: I wanted to. But I was not a liked face anymore.

J: How long were you in the dungeons ?

B: Three years. I came back for you. But I did some bad things, and they Took me Prisoner.

I nod sadly.

J: We’re not blood related, are we ?

B: No. Your Real Family is Dead. The Village you lived in was Raided by Riders. It was halfway burned. Everyone was Dead. I found you in a closet. Crying. Madmartigan and Sorsha took you in as their Warden. I was thirteen, I couldn't Raise you. So, I stayed by your side as a Brother. Even got you that Dagger when you were five. The Queen almost Killed me for that.

I laugh.

J: Why didn’t you tell me ?

B: Dunno. Was scared, I guess. That you’d think I lied or hated me. Or that you’d simply forgotten me.

J: Understandable. I kinda did.

He shows me his Arm. It's a leather Band with a single Purple Pearl on it.

B: I promised you I’d give it back when I tell you the Story. Well, I didn’t tell you the Story but I’ll still give it back.

I pull up my Sleeve and show him the Leather Band with the Red pearl.

J: Let’s Trade then.

We swap the Bracelets.

B: I’m proud of ya. Ya know. You're still the same sarcastic, make good jokes and you run around with the Princess all day. Got good fighting skills. You have a Horse that listens to everything you say. You can hunt and take it apart. Got yourself a Princess. And will Marry her. Even got her Pregnant. Still didn’t tell me how that worked.

I let out a Teary Laugh. And he Hugs me.

J: I will but first we gotta find Elora. 

He nods and helps me up. He hands me my Axe.

B: Why’d you choose an Axe ?

J: Dunno liked it.

[getouswh0re]

Howdy!! Could I request Yandere Gojo and Geto from jjk, with a special-grade sorcerer reader? Ty in advance, I really like your writing!✨

an; thank you for the love ˊᗜˋ💕 here are some drabbles for them separately, hope you liked it :3

warnings; yandere, gore, blood, unhealthy relationships, obsessive behaviour. do not condone such actions in real life, and please kindly read at your own discretion.

THE night was quiet, almost serene, totally at odds with the glowering menace in Geto’s eyes. Gone was the subtle gentleness in those inky slits you had grown to adore; in its place, inscrutable darkness bore holes into the back of your skull as you shuddered beneath the curse user’s glare.

It was still Geto in the flesh: the same face, unique hairstyle and robes he’d wear just like any other day. Yet it was no longer the special-grade sorcerer whom you once knew and loved. You never knew what caused such a drastic change in him; all you wished for, was for the old Geto to return, hoping that all of this was none other than another nightmare.

“Suguru? W-What are you doing at my door? It’s already late, you should be taking some rest ...” A hint of dismay — maybe sadness, ghosted his expression when the raven picked up the quivers in your tone. Nonetheless, a gentle smile adorns his face, emerging from the shadows to reveal himself as the raven explained himself.

“Why? Can’t I come and visit you?” He cocked his head, a playful smirk evident. Geto never ceased to make your heart flutter; perhaps it was his flirtatious nature and mellow personality that drew you towards him, but even after being one of his closest friends for a long time, at times you felt like you couldn’t understand him at all, with this being one of the occurrences.

You chortled, about to invite the raven into your apartment when warning bells started to ring incessantly in your head, warning you that there was something awry about him once you caught a glimpse at his clothes imbrued with crimson splatters.

“Sugu ... what is that on your clothes?”

“Oh this? Satoru splashed me with red paint, it’s not much of a big deal.” You knew he was lying, instantly picking up the revolting metallic stench from the stains. Dread filled your mind while you staggered back, keeping a distance from the male who gave you a perplexed look in return.

“You and I know a smell like this isn’t red paint ...” Trying to be as calm as you could, you retracted a step backwards with every stride Geto took. “Be honest with me. What on earth have you done?”

“Sharp as ever, y/n.” A condescending look took over as Geto finally revealed his true colours. “The world needs to change. All these monkeys are the reasons why curses exist. They can’t even control their cursed energy properly, and we sorcerers have to battle with death every time a curse poses as a threat to them. Their ignorance is revolting in its core, and I believe to make the world a better place, it would be better off to remove all of them out of sight. Don’t you agree —“

“What the fuck are you thinking?” Unable to withhold your seething rage, you snapped at the curse user. “This isn’t what sorcerers should do! What you are doing is of no difference from a brutal murderer Geto! I can’t fucking believe you!”

“How can you think of me like they y/n? That hurts my heart you know.”

Before you could even scream, he was already inches away, blood-stained hands caressing your cheeks tenderly as if you were made of fragile glass. “I just want to make life easier, there’s no need for us to put our lives at stake every time we exorcise curses. Right? We could be enjoying peaceful days together, free from the dangers of this world ...”

“Stop! Your delusions are sick, this isn’t you at all Geto! I don’t know what is wrong with your brain, but it’s never too late to turn back —“

Suddenly, your vision darkened — your consciousness sinking into a bottomless void as the raven carried you in a bridal style, the two of you vanishing into the tenebrosity of the night.

“And I thought you were the only one who’d understand me ... love.” He shook his head in disapproval, but the disappointment in his eyes were eventually replaced with glee as Geto stared at your limp figurine in his arms.

“But don’t worry, what needs to be done will be done. For our sake, for our future together.”

EVERYTHING would always be uglier up close.

At first glance, one might find Gojo Satoru a perfect man: with talent, looks and wealth all in one package. Men envy the greatest sorcerer of all time, and women grovel at his feet, desperate for a sprinkle of the man’s attention. Despite living the life everyone dreams to be in, the heir of the Gojo clan couldn’t care less about how the world spins around his axis. For the sorcerer has his eyes set on something much more worthy of his time and effort. 

He is a man of determination, willing to achieve his goals with whatever means possible — even resorting to dirtying his own hands. It is such an irony that underneath the charming façade, such a disgusting soul exists.

“For the last time Satoru, I am not interested in dating anybody.” Heaving an exasperated sigh, you politely shoved the lavish presents piling up at your front door back into the man’s arms. 

“I feel really flattered that you have feelings for me, I truly do. But I’m sure you know as sorcerers, we fight with death every day. If there is any regret that I’d dread to have ... it would be to leave everything I love behind. And I would rather die alone than leave my partner suffering on their own.” 

“That’s what I love about you y/n.” 

A loving sigh slipping from his tongue, Gojo took a step forward, cupping your face with utter delicacy. Yet you felt more than revolted by his sudden intimacy, struggling to writhe away from his tightening grip.

“You are always so kind, so considerate ... something I cannot find in anyone else other than you. But think about it sweetheart! You and I are both special-grade sorcerers, but I can protect you from the curses — at the same time giving you the moon and stars. We could move in together, you wouldn’t even need to work anymore. Why make your life harder when I could simply provide for you? Seriously —” 

“S-Satoru, I hate to tell you this but you’re pushing the boundaries right now.” Trying to reason with the sorcerer, you spoke with a harsher tone, praying that Gojo would get the hint and respect your choices. “You’re out of your mind! And why would you force 

Nonetheless, your words fell on deaf ears. 

“Now this is not how you should react when someone offers you their heart and soul.” The light in his cerulean eyes darkened, cyan hues glimmering beneath the penumbra of nightfall. “And I know you are a smart young woman, so you’d come to realise what is in your best interest. I really don’t want to do this to you y/n; but if you are trying to push me away from your life again, I would have to keep you to my side — the hard way.” 

With that, he pulled down his blindfold.

You were aware of how dangerous Infinite Void was; still, experiencing it first-hand was one hell of a terrifying experience. Fleeting images flashed across your vision as if all of this was in fastforward motion, depicting your fate in the past along with future. As certain blurred vestiges showed up, your heart sank in indescribable despair; moments of you and none other than Gojo were portrayed — blood splattered across the labyrinth of streets in Tokyo, your trembling hands intertwined with his, platinum bands wrapped around both of your ring fingers, adorable kids that were exact replicas of both of you. At this point, you could feel the will to fight back dwindling to fickle embers. 

No matter what you did, Gojo would always find his way back to you.

Even if he had to tear the world apart with his hands. 

[laurfilijames]

Talk You Out Of It

Pairing: Fili x female reader

Words: 4708

Warnings: 18 + Rated E. Explicit content. Oral sex (M/F receiving), M/F intercourse, unprotected sex. Slight asphyxiation. Blindfold used during sex.

Summary: You and your irresistible husband Fili are meant to be getting ready to attend a royal feast, but manage to talk each other out of going. Basically p*rn with a smidge of plot.

A/N: I still flush every time I read this over. Please indulge in this delicious filth that I can’t seem to stop writing. I’m sorry it’s so long.

Editing/Beta courtesy of the wonderful @guardianofrivendell 💚

—————

You didn’t really want to go to the feast, but as the wife of the Heir to the Throne of Erebor there was a very high level of obligation.

The day had wearied you, full of duties and tasks that had left you uninterested and you just didn’t have the energy to endure the raucous of dwarves and make niceties with- well, anyone if you were honest.

It was a big event, an engagement announcement for one of the Princes from the Iron Hills, and you knew it would be loud and exhausting. You were typically always keen to attend a celebratory feast, being able to eat and drink to your heart's content, dancing and laughing with your closest friends, but tonight you didn’t feel up to it.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you wished more than anything that you could stay locked away in the comforts of your chambers with your husband.

You greedily eyed Fili through the mirror attached to the vanity in front of you as he walked out of the bathing room, his skin and hair still wet from his bath.

Gods, was he ever a sight for sore eyes.

Your thighs instinctively squeezed together and you tucked your lower lip in your teeth in an attempt to compose yourself, but to no avail. Fili was naked and practically parading around your chambers, searching for items of clothing to don for the evening's festivities.

Focus, Y/N.

You looked back at your reflection as you continued to weave intricate braids throughout your hair, knowing your attendance was mandatory tonight so you needed to continue making yourself look presentable. There would be no getting out of this without repercussions, that much you were certain of.

Reaching for another bead to clasp around the section you had just finished intertwining, you smiled when you noticed it was your courting bead; the one-of-a-kind piece that Fili had engraved himself with his signet for you. But even thinking of the wonderful night Fili had presented it to you and commenced your courtship wasn’t enough to hold your concentration.

You couldn’t help but allow your eyes to drift over to where he stood beside the bed, hands on his hips, making a decision between two formal robes.

His gleaming eyes met yours in the mirror and you flushed all over at acquiring the attention of your half-naked husband.

He smirked at you and made his way over to where you sat, trousers now covering his legs but unlaced, revealing coarse, dark blond hair and barely containing his large member.

Oh. This was not helping your case.

Drops of water remained on his skin, not having dried yet, highlighting the hair on his chest and adding to his overall appeal.

“Do you think the blue or green one would go best with your gown, Amrâlimê?” Fili asked, now standing behind you.

He rested his hands on your shoulders, firm but gentle, and you closed your eyes as the contact instantly increased the tension growing in you.

“Y/N?” he prompted, and you opened your eyes to see him smiling at you in the mirror.

“The green one,” you finally answered in a low tone.

His dimples deepened as his smile widened, which didn’t help with your not wanting to go to the party.

You tried to convince yourself that it would turn into one of those situations where as much as you didn’t want to attend, you would end up having the best time. With Fili by your side, you were guaranteed to be happy regardless, but all you wanted was for him to tear this fussy dress off of you and become tangled up together in your bed.

“You seem distracted, my love,” he cooed beside your ear, causing your breath to hitch and you cursed him. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“You’re distracting me from getting ready, Fili,” you chided, needing him to create some space between you or you would never be able to finish getting ready in time.

He planted a whisper-soft kiss on the space between your neck and shoulder, looking at you in the mirror through hooded lids as he did.

You could not be held responsible for what happened next if he continued on like this.

But, as he usually did, Fili proceeded to place his lips on you, covering every available spot of your skin that was exposed to him. It seemed he could never get his fill of you, not that you minded.

“Fili, we’ll be late,” you pleaded, although a bit unconvincingly.

“Then we’ll be late,” he pressed his hot lips against the spot just behind your ear and you were done for.

Now his arms were around your waist, his hands trailing across the detailed embroidery stitched on the material and you longed for there to be nothing between your skin and his anymore. Again, your eyes closed and you allowed your head to fall back against his thick torso, getting lost in the sensation of his hands dancing over you. One moved up to palm over your breast, brushing your nipple through the fabric and extracting a breathy moan from you.

Fili needed to either stop what he was doing immediately, or call the night off altogether because there was no way you would be able to sit politely through dinner being as worked up as you were now.

Tempting as it was to blurt out your wishes of abandoning your plans, you would let him decide, allowing him to be the one responsible for causing any drama that would ensue from you and Fili missing the event. You knew Thorin would be livid and Fili would have to spend the next couple of days trying to make it up to his uncle, but you could sense it would all be worth it. The tension that hung in the air between you and Fili was so charged, hinting at what could be, and you couldn’t deny yourselves the right to find out all that was possible.

As anxious as you were for a verdict, you weren’t about to interrupt your husband who was planting kisses across your upper back where you hadn’t yet fastened the buttons of your gown.

“Are you going to do those up for me?” you asked, your voice heavy with lust.

Fili looked at you in the mirror with his lips still lingering on your skin and ever so slightly shook his head ‘no’.

A shiver coursed through your entire body and more desire flourished in your stomach.

Mahal, you were putty in his hands and so easy to submit to his touch.

You felt his absence immediately when he stepped away from you, straightening himself and rubbing his hand over his face, trying to make up his mind whether he was going to force you both to finish getting ready or abandon the idea of leaving your chambers completely.

Remaining seated, you proceeded to work at your hair, trying your best not to let your mind wander to the salacious thoughts that kept persisting for your attention.

But that was easier said than done.

Fili’s strong torso was perfectly in your eyesight and you couldn’t help but stare, taking in the creases on his stomach and especially the growing bulge in his trousers. You knew he wanted to give in to this temptation as much as you did and you couldn’t help but slightly influence his choice by draping your hair to one side and slowly trail your hand down your neck and chest.

Catching Fili looking, you stood from the bench and leaned forward, reaching for nothing in particular, giving him a view of your breasts down the top of your dress through the mirror.

Fili all but hissed, making you turn around to look at him, his chest heaving and expression hungry.

“What’s the matter, Fili?” you asked as innocently as possible.

He took a hold of your waist and moved you against the wall, your back colliding with the cold stone that caused your breath to leave you and a mischievous smile to cross your lips.

His lips crashed into yours, rough and demanding, the urgency matching that of his hands. They groped at your body, tugging and pulling at the dress that kept you hidden from him. The gown was new, but at this point you didn’t care if he ripped it to shreds.

Fili pulled your bottom lip in his teeth and stepped away from you again, only this time with a growl, still having an internal battle with himself of whether to stay in or not.

“We need to go to this dinner,” he said out loud, but more to himself.

You were left yearning against the wall as you watched him pace in front of you for a few steps, still weighing his options.

He had been dreading the evening as well, admitting to you earlier that he didn’t even like the couple who was to be married. It wasn’t as though you were shrugging off the actual wedding ceremony, this was simply an engagement party and there would be more important functions to attend in the future, so what was the harm in missing this one?

“Yes, we need to go or Thorin will have my head,” he continued, but still not entirely convinced. You remained quiet, thinking how you weren’t going to be the one to talk him out of it despite how much you wanted to.

It was almost as though the threat of aggravating Thorin humoured him and he looked at you with a naughty smirk, taking in your disheveled state. The neckline of your dress had fallen to rest just above your breasts and you stood there ready and waiting at your husband’s mercy.

Fili couldn’t resist you any longer. The sight of you like that alone was enough to sway his decision and he lunged at you, taking your mouth in his with a bruising kiss and grinding himself up against you.

“We’re not going,” he declared between kisses, making you smile against his lips.

Guilt filled you for a brief moment at breaking your commitments, but it was fleeting, the sensation of Fili’s teeth pulling at your earlobe replacing that remorse with wanton need.

In no time your dress was left discarded on the floor, nothing standing between you and Fili aside from his trousers that were only being held up by his erection.

One of your legs rested in the crook of his arm as you proceeded fondling each other, Fili grinding hard against your mound and your hands tangled in his unbraided hair.

His mouth traveled down your neck at a delightfully slow pace, savouring every bit of you until he landed on your breasts. His tongue flicked against your nipples, sucking and pulling them taut in his mouth as he alternated his attention between the two.

Fili was determined to provide you with every intense form of pleasure he was capable of, that much was clear already.

He continued to rub against you in a slow rhythm, his cock still straining painfully against his pants in an attempt to break through, while his hand trailed up your body and rested on your neck. Fili gave gentle squeezes to the sides of your throat with his thick fingers as his mouth returned to yours, swallowing your moans.

Within moments you felt consumed by ecstasy and knew you were about to give each other unbounded pleasure for the rest of the night.

You moved your hands from his wild hair down to his chest, carding your fingers through the abundance of curls that decorated him and it made you even happier that his body wasn’t currently being covered by stifling robes. Just as you began to venture lower, Fili took hold of your wrists and pinned them over your head, holding them firmly against the wall.

“Fili, I want to touch you,” you growled out of frustration.

“Patience, Amrâlimê, we have all night,” he told you in an unwavering tone.

A fresh wave of wetness pooled between your legs at his words and your body relaxed into the restraint he still had on your wrists. You supposed you could wait for a little while.

Fili’s exploration of your body continued, enjoying the taste of your skin with his tongue and feasting on you with gentle nips from his teeth.

Then he finally rewarded your patience by reaching between your legs, sliding his fingers against your slick folds. The contact made you shudder, and you knew Fili was appreciative of your desire for him by the way he huffed a grunting breath and dragged his teeth across your collarbone.

Two fingers slipped into your heat, pumping in and out of you at a careful pace before pressing onto your clit with his thumb.

You wrapped your leg tighter around his waist, pulling him closer to you as he continued to work you with his fingers, the angle allowing you to match his thrusts with your hips and ride against his hand. His other hand released the hold on your wrists to allow your arms to fall onto his shoulders, and you gripped them for support.

Though as good as this felt, you were eager for more. You desperately wanted to touch Fili, to put your hands and mouth on every inch of his body and make him feel as incredible as he was making you feel right now. Unwrapping your trembling leg from his body and standing on your own, you hooked your thumbs in the waist of his trousers and began to tug at them, anxious to gain access to what they were concealing.

Fili reluctantly removed his fingers from inside you, stopping only to assist you in freeing him from the binding laces that were failing at keeping his manhood contained. He impatiently yanked them down, his cock springing out and slapping his lower abdomen, bouncing up and down from the momentum of his hurried actions.

The sight made your mouth water and caused that familiar weighted ache to pull deep in your center.

You dropped to your knees and splayed your hands across his wide thighs, allowing your fingers to admire the defined muscles chiseled into his flesh. Your lips followed the path of your hands, landing in every notch and indentation that were formed from years of bravery on the battlefield and brute labour in the forges. Roaming your hands over to his backside, you squeezed his ample, yet firm cheeks while your lips remained on the sharply cut line that separated his leg from his groin. Each time your mouth threatened to make contact near his throbbing shaft it twitched in anticipation, causing the corners of your mouth to turn upwards in amusement.

Mahal certainly broke the mold when creating this dwarf and you couldn’t help but take your time in worshiping his body. You were going to go as slow as Fili would allow, but judging by his ragged breaths and grunts each time you made contact with his skin, it wouldn’t be for very long.

You grazed your lips along his length, the heat from his swollen flesh radiating onto them and making you eager to swallow him, but you proceeded to tease him, having your mouth land on him with peppering kisses but never taking him in.

Once you decided it was enough torment, you placed your lips on his smooth crown and flicked your tongue over the leaking hole, enjoying the saltiness of his precum.

Fili bucked into you harshly when you finally allowed him access to more of your mouth and you gladly took the full size of him, the tip of your nose now buried in the dense patch of coarse hair on his lower belly.

When you weren’t able to handle having him consistently press against the back of your throat, you recruited your hand to fist around his girthy base, pumping in time with your sucking. The combination had Fili moaning above you and his hands weakly combing through your hair, his hips slowly rolling with your movements and completely lost in a daze.

You could have done this all day, tasting him and inhaling his musky scent, but Fili soon interrupted you.

He tipped your chin up with his finger for you to look at him, watching your innocent eyes stare at him while your mouth hid and revealed his member as you bobbed back and forth, the sight quickly turning his relaxed manner into frantic lust. A look flashed in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place, something along the lines of playfulness and intrigue, and it made your stomach tighten in anticipation.

A strand of silk ribbon remained in your hair, having placed it there earlier to help hold the sections you hadn’t been braiding out of the way, and that was what Fili was regarding curiously. He took hold of the fabric and pulled, untying it with a wicked grin on his face. He ran the silky material through his fingers, and a darkness replaced the spirited look in his eyes that had been there moments before, causing you to falter slightly with your lips still wrapped around him.

Then everything was dark.

Fili tied the sash around your eyes, robbing you of sight temporarily.

More excitement flowed through you and you felt your abundant arousal drip down your leg as you remained kneeling on the floor, your tongue continuing to roll over his swollen tip.

A chuckle rumbled through Fili, having taken notice of your readied state, the sound even more clear to you than usual with one of your senses taken from you.

“Stand up, Amrâlimê,” he requested, helping guide you to your feet. Your legs felt shaky from how stimulated you were and you gripped his arms tightly, appreciating the strength in them and feeling the veins that weaved under the skin on his forearms.

You could still sense his presence near you, but it was difficult to tell exactly where he stood, having removed your hands from him and leaving you standing on your own. A shuddered breath left you when you suddenly felt his hand trace across your hip, slowly sliding up your waist.

“Shh, it’s okay Y/N, I’m right here,” he said against your ear, making goosebumps erupt across your skin.

Now his lips were on you, kissing over your shoulder, and even though they had been there earlier the addition of the blindfold made every touch from them feel all the more intense. The hair on his chest tickled your back and his cock brushed against your bum, feeling achingly hard from your previous attention.

“Fili…” you breathed out, appreciating every moment of heightened touch from your One. You felt his hands move lower, clutching both sides of your upper thighs as he knelt down to you, ready to give his own worship.

The sound of his breath seemed louder to you, coming in ragged pants, an indication at how excited he was to reciprocate the pleasure you had given him.

It was difficult to know what to do with yourself, standing slightly awkwardly and unable to reach any part of Fili with him on his knees behind you. But after a moment he gave you guidance, instructing you to bend forward slightly and press your hands against the wall in front of you.

His tone was rough when he gave his direction, and you shivered again, your body even more responsive to his voice with the absence of sight.

“I think you’re enjoying being blindfolded, Y/N,” he pointed out, and you could tell he was smiling.

You attempted a response but it came out as a cry when you felt Fili’s face meet with your core, his nose spreading your cheeks open to access your heat. His tongue slid between your folds and licked at you hungrily while he brought a hand around to your front to toy with your pulsing bud.

The uneven stone on the wall bit back at your fingertips as you clawed down it’s surface, desperate for something to ground you.

Agonizing pleasure ran through you as Fili probed his warm tongue into you, every pass of it feeling harsh but exquisite, and you no longer had control over the sounds spilling from your mouth or the convulsions of your body.

“Is this w-what you’re going to say we were doing when you explain to your uncle why we weren’t there tonight?” you panted out as Fili’s tongue drilled deeper into your heat.

He gave a muffled laugh that vibrated through you in response, but never paused in his mission. He dug his fingers into your flesh, giving a tight squeeze to your bum with the hand that wasn’t pressing circles on your clit, seeming to grow more ravenous the longer he dined on you.

Fili increased his pace knowing you were close to the edge, determined to make you come apart around his mouth. The sensation of his beard scratching over your most sensitive area combined with the smooth lapping of his tongue and the pressure of his nose on the taught area between your two holes had you shattering within seconds. Tremors vibrated through you and you pushed back harder into his face, riding out your accelerated high. Fili drank at your essence as it flowed from you, his moans of satisfaction drowned out by your unrestrained cries.

You opened your eyes when you landed from your peak, only to have your vision still compromised by the sash you had forgotten about in those moments of intensity. A dizzying sensation washed over you, feeling unable to get your bearings, but Fili was there to support you, standing and gripping your body in a reassuring way.

“Are you well, Y/N?” he asked huskily. You followed the sound of his voice as he moved to stand in front of you, it being the only thing to steady you, your body feeling weak and dazed from your orgasm and lack of sight.

You nodded as a reply, still working on catching your breath, knowing Fili would be watching for a response.

“Good,” he stated, attaching his lips to yours quickly and forcefully, catching you by surprise. “Because I’m not done with you yet,” he added when he parted from you momentarily.

Teeth and lips crashed together as your tongues sought to taste each other, your desperation building rapidly. You moaned into Fili’s mouth, relishing in the feel of his rigid shaft pressing against your tingling bud.

Fili growled, the sudden noise startling you slightly, but adding to your amusement. It was an act to restrain himself and you knew he couldn’t hold back anymore. You could feel his excitement radiating off of him, his skin almost vibrating as your hand grazed over his belly.

With a strength that would always amaze you, Fili lifted you and tossed your body onto the bed, the act making you laugh as you settled into the plush furs. Tucking your lip in your teeth and feeling your husband crawl over top of you, you imagined the level of ferocity that was about to be unleashed.

He settled himself between your spread legs, taking in the sight of you before him. The silk still covering your eyes, a bold smile breaking across your face, your chest rising and falling heavily with anticipation, and your wet core, primed and ready for him to plunge into.

No warning was given before he impaled you in one swift motion, his size filling and stretching you completely, your cries echoing through your chambers once more.

His need emanated through to you and your hips met his with hard thrusts, the sound of your bodies slapping against each other loud in your ears. Your hands clawed at his shoulders and back as you brought yourself closer to his body, not needing to see to know exactly where he was on you with his form engraved in your memory.

Desperate to taste him again, you found his lips with yours and he stole the breath straight from your lungs with every press to your mouth.

Fili had you so close to the edge again, your walls squeezing him tight with every push, a signal of your imminent release.

Fili gripped onto your hips and pulled out of you almost completely, looking down to see his member disappear again as he slammed back into you.

“Mahal, you should see how good you look taking me like this,” he grunted out, sounding feral.

He repeated the process multiple times, enjoying watching your folds slide over him, revealing and then encasing him again as he pumped in and out of you, fuelling your lust and a bit of frustration that you also weren’t able to enjoy the view.

Although your body was being jostled against the bed, the covering over your eyes remained securely in place, the elimination of sight allowing you to still feel every contact even more than usual.

A gasp left you as Fili pulled your hips up off the bed and further onto his lap, spreading you wider and reaching even further inside so his tip was now bombarding your deepest spot with every blow. Your fingers tore into his thighs that were supporting beneath your own, craving your next release. His mouth covered yours, wet and rough, the beads in his moustache tapping against your chin with his movements.

You could imagine what he looked like now, his face dripping with sweat, his brows furrowed and the most intense gaze from his blue eyes burning into you with his efforts. As much as you were enjoying the benefits of the blindfold, you couldn’t help but feel robbed of seeing your husband in all his glory of providing you flawless ecstasy.

Fili was ready to take his fall with you, the evidence clear in the loose moans coming from him and the sloppy kisses that landed across your chest. The sounds he made pushed you to your second climax, knowing he was fully indulging in everything you offered him and completely intoxicated by you. He drove into you with one last hard push, twitching against your walls as he filled you with his thick seed, the feeling of his hot spend and friction on your clit igniting another orgasm more intense than the first.

Fili collapsed over your torso, his skin sweaty against yours and body exhausted, trying to catch his breath as you both recovered from your peaks. Still remaining inside you, he carefully pulled the silk ribbon away from your eyes, revealing the soft illumination of your room to you again.

You blinked slowly as you adjusted to the glowing light, smiling as Fili came into focus above you, his blue eyes shining and dimples set deep in his cheeks. You reached your hands up to cup his face and kissed him lovingly, lost in the after-effects of your passionate endeavour.

Although you could never forget his face, you missed being able to see it even for that brief amount of time.

You continued to take him in, running the tips of your fingers over the lines on his face, stopping to press into the crease on his left cheek. It made him smile bigger at you and you automatically matched his grin.

“What are you thinking, Y/N?” he asked inquisitively.

“How this was far better than going to the feast,” you giggled.

Fili hummed in response as he rested his head on your chest and you wrapped your arms around him, stroking his hair and back languidly.

“Aren’t you glad I talked us out of going?” Fili asked, teasingly.

“I don’t think neither of us needed much convincing, my love,” you cooed to him, feeling his laugh rumble through you.

“Now to deal with the wrath of Thorin,” you added.

He sighed loudly against your chest, “Don’t remind me, Y/N.”

“I promise to make it all worth it.”

Fili turned his head to look at you and you flashed him a smile and a wink, letting him know you wouldn’t be having an early night despite staying home from the festivities.

[britishassistant]

When Villain!Yuu manages to return to their dimension and finds out their minions did, it’s one of the few times that the Supervisor has lived up to their title as heir. The next day the head of the minions of the attempted murder squad was found battered, covered in bird poo, and tied in front of RSA. If Crowley asks, Yuu makes the excuse that they are simply following one of the rules of villainy. If a minion steps out of line, don’t correct, make an example out of them.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

Warning for dark under the cut.

There are three items on the desk.

One is a cellphone. It’s a compact, black brick of a thing, the sort that could survive a drop from a window a story up. Its screen is currently dark and silent. It has not buzzed or vibrated, or given any indication that it’s even on.

The second is a glass of clear liquid. The glass looks pretty standard, no fancy plane designs or rectangular shapes. Just a squat round cup with a round lip and clear liquid an inch or so from the top. There are small bubbles forming in the bottom, the longer it remains undisturbed. It doesn’t seem like those are the results of carbonation, or some other nefarious properties.

No. If anything, the cup is there for the third object on the table.

A pair of two pills are sitting innocently by the cup’s side. One is larger, pale pink, and lozenge shaped. The other is smaller, a capsule that’s colored dark green and blue.

The minion swallows. The phlegm feels like it’s lodged in his throat.

There’s a sigh from the other side of the table.

The Supervisor leans forward. The supervillain’s features are slightly drawn, like they’re preparing to undertake an unpleasant chore.

The minion has the insane urge to giggle at the sight.

“So…” The Supervisor splays their hands. “Unfortunately, following reviews of your recent performance, we have found that you are…not a good fit for this business. It’s been determined that it’s in everyone’s best interests for you to be terminated from your current position effective immediately.”

The minion—or rather, ex-minion—gives a shaky nod.

The Supervisor tilts the brim of their top hat up, so they can better make eye contact with him. “You have two choices for your…ah, severance package.”

One hand gestures to the glass and pills. “Option one: you take these. The pink one is a sedative, and it’s up to you whether you take it before or after the other. It’s pretty fast acting, so it shouldn’t matter so much either way. All you’ll know is just falling asleep.”

The other gestures to the phone. “Option two: I make a call to Dr. Crewel. You’ll be transferred to his department. But in the, ah…volunteer capacity. Instead of the minion one. Do you have any questions?”

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

“W-what?” The ex-minion stutters. “B-but…I, I don’t understand?”

“What don’t you understand?” The Supervisor asks, patience in every line of their posture. Like they were an adult helping to explain something complicated to a small child.

This, in spite of the fact that the ex-minon was a decade the supervillain’s senior.

That helps the ex-minion order his thoughts somewhat. “I-I thought the rules for g-getting fired were that the min-minion in question would be turned over to the police for arrest. Or to the local sup-superheroes.”

The Supervisor nods. “That is what happens in most cases, yes. However, in those cases, the termination is contingent more on minion incompetence or betrayal. You and your…friends, regrettably, fall outside that purview.”

The ex-minion’s mouth moves soundlessly. “But…I don’t understand. Isn’t this for betrayal? That I betrayed you?”

The Supervisor’s mouth tightens, even as the rest of their face remains impassive. “That…is another crime you committed, and one that was taken into account when making this decision. But it is far from the main motivating factor behind all this.”

The ex-minion wracks his brain. “But, what…?”

“You attempted to murder a child.” The supervillain exhales, some dark, wounded emotion entering their eyes for the first time. “Another version of myself, true, but an injured, defenseless child. One who had never done anything to you, or anyone else in this world. Who had no involvement in whatever quarrel you have with me. Who nearly bled to death on my roof due to the injuries sustained as a direct result of your attempted murder.”

The Supervisor shakes their head. “And that would be bad enough, especially as I was under the impression that they would at least be cared for in my absence. Except this? This was not an isolated incident, was it? Looking over the behavior of the perpetrators, it’s become clear this is only the culmination of a dangerous trend I should’ve seen and put a stop to ages ago.”

The ex-minion doesn’t think he can breathe.

“The first endangerment of Miss Elena Blackwood back at the bank. The repeated suggestions of attacking elementary, middle or high schools or public playgrounds to divert heroic attention during heists or schemes. The inclination to ignore my orders when I specified that children were to be released immediately if caught up in a hostage situation we organized. The attempted hostage taking of Mr. Cheka Kingscholar while he was my guest.”

The ex-minion tries swallowing again. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “I thought you didn’t know about that.”

He winces at the mindless admission.

The Supervisor’s eyes narrow at him, and fury rolls off them in almost visible waves. There is no doubting the Night Raven’s genetics were used to make them like this.

“I have my ways.”

The ex-minion quails under their glare.

The Supervisor sighs, scrubbing a hand over their eyes. “Do you understand now? You are not being fired for betrayal. You and your cohorts are being terminated for repeated and willful perpetuation of un-villainous crimes of one of the highest orders, in accordance with League Statute A55. So, what’ll it be?”

“Sh-shouldn’t there be a hear-hearing, or, or an appeal, or something?!” The ex-minion begs desperately.

“If you wanted forgiveness, you should have applied to the Royal Sword Association.” The Supervisor rattles off blandly. “We here at Night Raven Corporation specialize in putting the super back into supervillainy.”

The ex-minion slumps. “…I always hated that slogan.”

The Supervisor pulls a commiserating face. “Not some of Dad’s best work, I’ll admit.”

He stares at the pills and at the phone.

“…Which did Miette pick?”

The supervillain pointedly glances towards the glass and its companions.

He snorts. “Naturally. She’d rather be dead rather than be something monstrous like you.”

The Supervisor inclines their head but doesn’t deny his words.

He considers it some more. “…Would I still receive a paycheck? As a volunteer?”

The Supervisor shrugs. “One that’s considerably reduced from what you currently earn, but yes. You would be compensated for your services. And your current life insurance will still be maintained and paid out to those you specify in the event of an accident under Dr. Crewel’s care. Or, indeed, if you take the other option.”

Like he has anyone he wants that money to go to.

His eyes dart between them.

The choice is easy in the end. Miette can call him a coward all she wants beyond the grave, but he’s not letting this thing be the last sight he sees.

“Make the call.”

The supervillain nods, and picks up the phone.

It’s screen lights up as they lift it towards their ear, pressing a button. “Dr. Crewel? Mr. Aston Michaels has expressed his consent to be transferred to the volunteer department. When can we expect pickup? Five minutes? Yes. Yes, this is the last one. Well, thank you for your help. Have a nice day.”

They hang up, and set the phone back down on the table.

Something flickers across their face— distaste? Weariness? Regret? Whatever it is, he hopes it haunts this thing’s nightmares for the rest of its miserable existence. It’s the least it deserves.

The two of them sit there in silence. Then there’s a knocking behind him, and light spills over him as the door is opened.

A pair of minions in impeccable suits step through, nodding to the supervillain, who nods back. Each one of them takes one of his arms and gently pulls him up from his seat.

“I’d say you’re going to be dammed to Hell for this.” He says, almost cheerfully, before they can turn him away. “But I’m pretty sure you need a soul to go down there, and things like you don’t have those.”

There’s a subtle intake of breath from the suited minions on either side of him. He ignores them, his glare fixated on his now ex-boss.

The Supervisor smiles grimly back at him. For some reason, that kind of pisses him off.

“Oh, believe me, Mr. Michaels. I know.”

[forever-rogue]

Camisado 1/2

A/N: Hey, hi, hello! Here is first part my little Frankie Royalty AU, written for @its--fandom--darling ‘s follower celebration. The second part will be here soon, but for now enjoy some pain and angst!

Pairing: Frankie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: language, angst

PART 2

MASTERLIST

FRANKIE MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Francisco?” your voice was low and gentle as you stepped into kitchens and scanned the room for any sign of life. A frown crossed your features when you thought he might not be here at all, but he quickly popped up from behind the counters with a smile gracing his features and a dusting of flour on his nose.

“Hello there,” he beamed as you bounced over to him, quickly reaching up and wiping the flour away before kissing his nose.

“Hello there,” you repeated, quickly looking around to make sure no one else was there before pulling him in for a quick kiss, “I’ve missed you.”

"Feeling cheeky today, Princess?" Frankie's hands found your face as he pulled you closer to him and stole a handful of kisses. You were left breathless and yearning for more as eagerly grinned at him. He stopped for a moment and studied you gently playing with a lock of your hair, in awe of your beauty as always, "you are so beautiful, my love."

"And just who is feeling cheeky now, sweet Francisco?" you teased, running a hand through his dark curls as his hands found purchase on your waist. You giggled as he picked you up and set you down on the kitchen counter. He grinned as he pressed his forehead against yours.

"I think its you, Princess. Coming in here and openly kissing the kitchen boy?" he asked before kissing along your jaw and down your neck, causing you to bite back a moan, "so brazen. Where anyone could see us...my oh my."

"Shut up," you pulled him back to your lips, "its because I happen to be in love with you, you absolute fool!"

“Are you?” he must have been feeling extra cheeky because he slowly started to lift your skirts and trailed a hand along your calf, a juxtaposition of calloused hands and delicate skin as he kissed you till you were breathless, “I happen to be in love with you too, Princess.”

“Call me by my name,” you whispered in his ear, knowing there was nothing better than hearing it slip from his tongue. There was no need for formalities when it was just the two of you, there was no barrier, no difference, just two people in love, “please.”

And then it came forth, delicate and gentle as he trailed his lips along your neck, stopping just before the shell of your ear. He nipped lightly at the soft skin, making sure to leave no marks; if any were seen you’d both be dead. One day, you’d always promised, one day he could mark you as he pleased for the world to see, to let everyone know you were his. But he was no fool - he knew one day would never come, despite your honeyed words and saccharine promises. He was a servant, no more, no less, and you were a princess, everything he was not. 

But he did love you, truly, deeply, and completely, and you loved him. That was no lie - but you could never be together. It was just...the way the world worked. People like Francisco Morales didn’t get the opportunity to be with royalty. People like yourself were not allowed the liberty of love and choosing your own happiness and destiny.

“Francisco,” it was a heady whisper as you started to tug at his shirt, slowly un-tucking it from the waistband of his trousers. His hands were roaming your frame as you closed your eyes and lost yourself in him.

Before it could get any further, you heard your name shouted from afar. Both of you froze immediately, a sense of terror bubbling up inside as Frankie pulled back and you hopped off the counter and straightened your skirts while he tucked his shirt back in. Deft hands help to smooth your hair back into place as you both took a few steps apart to appear as if you had been engaging in polite conversation, rather than about to have one another on the kitchen counter.

“Princess!” you rolled your eyes dramatically at Frankie before he shot you a quick wink as your father’s guard stormed into the kitchen.

“Calm down,” you huffed with a sigh that you didn’t even bother to cover up as you waved him off, “no need to alert the cavalry, I’m right here.”

“What are you doing in the kitchens?”

“I fancied a snack,” you lied, reaching for an apple in the bowl that was thankfully right in front of you, “and I came into the kitchen to look for something, as one normally does when it has been some time since they’ve eaten.”

He scowled, somewhere between annoyance and not quite believing you. You swallowed nervously, praying there was nothing to prove what the two of you had actually been doing. There was no evidence that anything happened, so he couldn’t do anything, “your father and mother request your presence in his study. Immediately.”

“Immediately?” you scoffed, “I’ve got plans for my afternoon - anything important can surely be handled by my sister, no? She’s to be the Queen after all, not me. I’m nothing to them, except another burden. Surely they meant Helena and not me.”

“They asked for you specifically, Princess,” he was quick to grow weary of your attitude. Normally you were polite, and mostly kept to yourself, but this particular guard was nothing but pain. Everything with him had to be by the book and he refused any levity, “you’re to come with me.”

“Fine,” you agreed, you took a loud, crunching bite of your apple as you walked over to him. Waving a hand at him, you ushered him along, “let’s go then, and get this over with. I have a multitude of things I’d rather be doing.”

He was silent as he led the way, allowing you to steal one last look at Frankie, who was almost red-faced as he tried not to laugh. You blew him a kiss followed by a wave as you put on your most neutral and disinterested face. You’d come back and find him later to finish what you started; if nothing else, you at least would get to spend time with him. There was nothing better than that.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Ahhh, there she is,” your father stood up as soon as you walked into the room. Confusion marred your features as you look behind you to see who he was talking about. He walked over to you and put his hand on your shoulders and studied you, “I’m talking about you, of course. My youngest, my sweetest-”

“I’m not your youngest, father,” you reminded him, “I have two brothers, or have you forgotten about them? I’d also wager that-”

“Must you always talk back?” your mother’s face was set in a stern expression as she was perched on the edge of your father’s desk, “it’s unbecoming of a young lady. Husbands do not want a wife that’s always so haughty.”

“Bold of you to assume I want a husband,” you insisted as you crossed your arms over your chest, causing your father to sigh, “and if a husband does not want to listen to me talk or engage in conversation, then he is not a husband I want.”

“You don’t get a choice in that.”

“I refuse to marry a man I do not love.”

“You are not in a position to argue,” your father held up his hands, silencing the two of you, ever the neutral ruler. Rolling your eyes you waited for him to go on, “it is your duty, by birth, to marry a man of our choosing. You’re a Princess, you do not marry for love. You marry for relations, to produce heirs, for your people.”

“I am a second born,” you huffed, trying to understand what he was saying, “and a daughter at that. What does it matter? I’m not going to Queen, I’m just...me.”

“It does not matter,” your mother insisted, “you are a part of this family and you will do as we say. Your marriage is just as important as those of your sister and your younger brothers.”

“Fine,” there was no point in trying to argue, “should I ever find a man that I love that meets your standards, I’ll let you know. May I be excused now? I have other things I’d like to attend to -”

“That’s why you’re here,” your brow furrowed in confusion, but suddenly you felt like there was a lump in your throat, “you will get married and you will have a husband of our choosing. It just so happens that we’ve chosen one for you already.”

“What? No, no, no, no,” you eyes widened in shock as panic set deep in your bones, “you can’t just do that. W-with no warning-”

“We can and we have,” she raised an eyebrow, “you’re already older than you should be. Luckily, we’ve found a wonderful husband for you, the Lord of Easterly.”

“Easterly?” you repeated as you felt the life leave your heart, “he’s so much older, and he’s terrible! Everyone loathes him, surely you can’t be...you can’t be serious.”

“He’s a good match,” your mother insisted firmly, “and frankly are better than you could have hoped for. You should be thanking your lucky stars your father is king and could even arrange such a match at your age. You’re not getting any younger and you should have been married years ago.”

“Please,” your mind was already racing with hundred million thoughts, but they all went back to Frankie. You couldn’t get married, not to this man - a man you’d barely met and certainly didn’t love. No, no, no, this was all wrong. Suddenly your attitude went away and you were ready to beg and grovel, “please don’t do this. Please, you can’t force me to marry him...I beg of you. I will do anything, just don’t make me marry him. Please.”

“It also already done and settled,” her voice was cold and ice and if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear there was a pleased little smirk tugging on the corners of her mouth, “you’ll be married by the end of next month and then you will go to live with your new husband. You may be unhappy, but this is your duty. This has always been your duty.”

“No,” your lip trembled with effort as you tried not to cry, “I won’t do it.”

“There is no won’t, you will do this,” she crossed her arms over her chest and your father remained silent. You looked between the two of them, hoping, wishing, praying, that one of them would say something else. One of them had to be on your side, right?

“And if I refuse?”

“You will not,” her glare was cold as ice as she stared you down. You swallowed thickly but willed down all the ugly, vile things you wanted to say. You’d already angered them, and you needn’t poke the bear further...you didn’t want to know what else they could be capable of, “now go. An official announcement will be made at the end of the week and then we will plan your wedding.”

“I hope you know that I hate this,” it was the only thing that came to mind, “I will never forgive you for this.”

“We have nothing to be sorry for,” your father finally chimed in as he looked down at you, “you have always known that this was your duty, and now its your turn to fulfill that duty. Now run along and learn some manners and respect.”

You offered them a mock bow before storming out of the door, without waiting for it to be opened. Tears of anger and frustration rolled down your cheeks as you tried to still your racing mind. A month, you had a month. A month to figure out how to get out of this situation once and for all. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

You watched as rain poured outside your window, tapping on it gently as you cried and cried. At some point, you weren’t sure if it was the raindrops obscuring your vision or your own tears making it cloudy. As soon as you’d stepped foot back outside that afternoon the skies had opened and rain had poured down, covering the earth as if it was weeping with you. You’d been so caught up in your sorrow, you’d forgotten about anything else - including meeting Frankie at your secret spot in the gardens. 

You clutched the small stuffed bunny in your arms as you cried and hiccuped, wishing that this would all go away. You’d had the little stuffed animal for some time, a secret little present from Frankie because he knew how much you loved the small creatures. No matter how long you’d had it, it still managed to smell of him - a sweet, saccharine smell.

A soft knock came from the windows, startling you as you wiped away your tears and started at the large window. You weren’t sure if it had been your imagination or if you’d actually heard something, but as soon as you’d seen the shadow moving about, you were sure it was someone. 

Slipping out from the soft blankets, you padded over and slowly opened the window. You immediately spied Frankie as he finally looked relieved to finally see you. 

“Princess,” he whispered as he reached out and gently touched your face, grounding him in the fact that you were okay. But his heart wrenched when he realized that your face was wet, but not from the rain, “you’re crying - what’s wrong? Y-you didn’t come to our spot.”

“I-I-I’m sorry,” you sniffled as you took his hand in yours and pulled him inside the warmth of your rooms. It was silent while you made quick of pulling off his jacket and laying it on the back of your chair. Pulling him gently, you took him towards the warm, crackling fire, flopping down on the floor next to it, “I forgot, Frankie. I…”

And then it was silent for some time. Frankie sat next to you, silent as he warmed up and wanted for you to carry on with what you had to say. After some time, he pulled you in his lap as he studied your face. He brought a hand up, slowly, delicately as he traced over your features before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“What’s happened, my sunshine?” he whispered as you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face into his shoulder. Before you could get out any proper words, you ended up crying again, tears quickly soaking through his tunic as you cried. He held you gently, rocking back and forth as he tried to get you to quiet down so you could speak to him, “shhh, my sweet love. It’s okay, it’s all okay...I’ve got you.” 

"Frankie," you finally managed to pull yourself together enough to spot the tears from spilling, "I received horrible news today...the worst thing that could possibly happen occurred today…"

"Whatever could it be?" he reached up and gently wiped away your tears from your cheeks and pushed a lock of hair behind your ear.

"I am to be married," you finally said the words out loud for the first time, shocking you both are vile they sounded, "by the end of next month. To Lord Easterly of all people."

"Oh."

“This is the worst thing to happen,” you whispered softly, “I-I don’t know what to do. Francisco, I love you - you’re the one I want to m-”

“You must marry him,” he stated; there was no emotion, no hesitation or anything. His voice was neutral - calculated to show no trace of emotion, “if your parents arranged your marriage to him, then you must marry him.”

“Frankie,” you pulled back, your face colored in hurt and shock, “I-I don’t love him, I don’t want to marry him. I love you…”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted, “it is your duty to marry him.”

Inside, his own heart was breaking into a million tiny pieces, mere fragments of a whole. He wanted to cry - to scream and argue and hurt everyone that had brought this upon you. But instead he just...shut down. In some ways, he’d spent the last few years preparing for this moment, knowing that eventually it would be inevitable. He was a stupid, foolish man to fall in love with you in the first place. He had no right, no reason to - he was of one world and you were of another. You could never be together. Never. And even though he’d always known that, locked away in the back of his mind, this didn’t make the crushing blow any easier. He was so in love with you, it was hard to believe that his love could ever die; sometimes it left him breathless just to think about how much he was enamored by you. 

But you could never be his. 

“Francisco,” you shook your head as you grabbed his face and turned his chocolate eyes towards you, “what on earth are you saying? I thought you...I thought you loved me? I can’t marry him, I will never be happy again if I do. It’s supposed to be you, my love. No one else.”

“Don’t be foolish,” his voice cracked as he took your hands and pulled them away, “we can never be together, we both know that. It was only a matter of time...we’ve always known it would come to this. You must do as they say.”

“I-I-I don’t understand,” you shook your head, blinking back tears as you pulled away from Frankie. He stared at the fireplace as he refused to make eye contact with you, “you want me to marry him?”

“I don’t,” he admitted quietly, “gods, of course I don’t. But there is no choice, no other way. We both know that. If I could, I would marry you right now, and take you away from this forever. But I can’t do that...we would never work. I know it’s not what you want to hear, and we’ve both been blissfully ignorant of that fact, but it was always bound to come to an end. That will never change how much I love you.”

“You want me to marry a man I do not love because I’m being told to,” you were crying now, fully bawling at blatant denial of...you, "you want me to subject myself to a life of unhappiness? You can't...you won't be able to go with me."

"You know your duty-"

"That is such shit!" you shouted at him, "you love me, right? We'll run away together - we can get married and live happily far away from here."

"And what? You'll just be found and brought back and I'll be jailed if not hanged," he threw his hands up in frustration, "or worse yet, we'll both be hanged. I can't...I can't give the life you deserve."

"We'll go far away," it was a meek protest as you contemplated dropping to your knees to beg him to stay and fight for you, "no one will know who we are. I swear it - please, Frankie. I don't want anything else but you. That's all I want - you. Just you. Please."

"I'm sorry," he stood up and crossed his arms over his chest as he deflected from the situation, "I can't do that. You have to do what you're told to do."

"So you don't love me...has this all been a lie then?"

"I do love you."

"It doesn't feel like it. Stay with me then!"

"I can't do that. You know that - we don't have a choice."

"Everything is a choice!" you shouted angrily, "everything!"

"Do you have any clue how hard this is for me too?!" you'd never heard him raise his voice this loudly before and took you aback for a moment as you pouted at him, "to see the woman I love every single day but not to be able to be with her? Having to see her in secret? I want to show the world I love you, I want everyone to know! But I can't - for your safety and mine. It pains me every day not to be able to love you as I want!"

"Then go with me," you reached for his hand but he quickly pulled out of your grasp, "we can run away together. Please don't leave me. Please."

"You know it has to be this way," his voice shook as a tear rolled down his cheek, "you know how it has to be. I will always love you. You have my heart, always and forever."

"Don't go," he started walking back to the window, refusing to look back over at you. You chased after him but he turned away, "please, Francisco. I'm begging you, I will do anything to get you to stay."

"Please don't…"

"W-we still have time," you were grasping at straws, but it was all you could think of doing, "we'll figure something out. What if I tell my parents we plan to marry? Or that I am with child?"

"They'll have me hanged before you could finish telling them and they'd force you to marry to cover up your pregnancy," you knew he was right.

"We can...we can make the most out of our time together," he turned to face you, and you met those eyes you'd fallen in love with one last time, "there is time...we can…"

"I don't think that's a good idea," he whispered softly, "we shouldn't make it harder than it already is. We can just end it now…"

"Please," you tried to grab his hand as he sidled along the ledge. Your soul felt like its light had been extinguished as he shook his head, recoiling from your touch as though it was laced with venom, "Francisco. I love you more than anything. You are my heart, my home-"

"Don't do this," his words cut like a knife at your throat as you realized he was serious. He wasn't coming back, "this ends tonight. If we keep going its only going to hurt worse. We'll cut our losses now. I love you, Princess, so damn much it takes my breath away. But this is the way."

"I love you," it was a strangled cry as you watched him go, "I will never love another. Only you."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[johnsamericano]

“Corruption pt. 5” w.y.h

Pairing: college teacher!Lucas x student!reader.

Genre: fluff, angst, smut.

Summary: Lucas never thought of falling for a student, but from the first day you walked into de classroom you had him wrapped around your finger.

Warnings: none

a/n: This is the last chapter BUT I’m gonna write an epilogue. Hope you like it.

Taglist: @ncteaxhoe @junglewoos

corruption m.list.

“Dude, you need to get out of bed.” Chenle slightly pushed your body. “You’re starting to smell.”

“What’s the point, Chenle?” You whined against your pillow, still a little wet from your mental breakdown an hour ago.

“You still need to go to classes.” He tried pulling your arm, but you didn’t budge.

“I don’t want to see him.”

“You don’t even have classes with him, for god’s sake.” He sighed, desperate to get you out of bed.

“Just leave me alone.” Your phone started buzzing, announcing Lucas’ fifth call of the day. It was barely 9:00 a.m.

“Okay, I’m done with this little attitude of yours.” He grabbed the device and handed it to you. “You’re gonna answer the phone and solve your problems like the goddamn adult you are, or else I might call your parents and tell them you’ve been sleeping with our professor.” You sat straight, eyes wide open.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

You groaned and snatched the phone from his hands, pressing the green button with shaky hands.

“Hello?” Your voice came out weaker than expected.

“Y/n? Thank god. Are you alright? You haven’t been answering any of my calls or messages so I was worried something might have happened.” You hummed. “Can we meet?”

“Okay.”

“I can pick you up and then we can go to my apartment-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll ask Chenle to drive me.”

“Alright. See you then.” A soft murmur stopped you from hanging up. “I love you.” You couldn’t bring yourself to reply, instead ending the call.

“You were such a brave girl.” Your friend cooed while wrapping his arms around you.

“Shut up.”

Chenle helped you pick an outfit to ‘show him what he lost’ and drove you all the way to his apartment complex.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” You released your body from the seatbelt.

“It’s okay, lele. Thank you for driving me.” He nodded before you went out.

You took a deep breath, rehearsing the things you wanted to say to Lucas. But as soon as you saw him, your mind went blank. He looked bad, maybe even worse than you.

“Y/n.” He wanted so bad to hug you, to beg you not to leave him. But that would be selfish.

“Lucas.” He let you in, there were two cups of tea right above the coffee table in his living room.

You sat at a safe distance from him.

“I am deeply sorry, y/n. I should’ve told you earlier what was going on, but I was a coward. I knew this would be over the moment you found out.”

“So what is going on Lucas?” Your voice was calm as you picked up the teacup and brought it to your lips. Those soft, sweet lips.

“There are some things you don’t know about me.” He licked his lips nervously. “For instance, my parents come from wealthy families, and I’m their only child, therefore I’m...”

“The heir.” You completed, feeling a knot forming in your stomach.

“Yes.” He feared so much that you’d see him with different eyes. “My parents wanted me to have someone to guide me and support me for when I take over the family company. The woman you saw last Friday was one of their friends’ daughter.”

He waited for a reply that never came. How could you even answer to that?

“Say something, please.” He finally scooted closer to you, taking your hand between his. His heart broke at the sight of your teary eyes. “Anything, I’m begging you.”

“I understand your decision.” He expected anything but that. “They’re your parents after all, you want to make them proud. I just wish you’d told me earlier, it would’ve been easier to end things between us.”

“I’ll leave them.”

“What?”

“Just ask me to stay with you and I’ll abandon everything.” By the look in his eyes, you knew he meant it. “Ask me to stay with you.” It sounded more like a plead.

“No.” It took all of your inner strength to get that single word out.

“Y/n, I-”

“Lucas, don’t ask me to decide on your life when I barely know what to do with my own.” Yes, your words were hurtful, but you weren’t wrong. “I don’t want to be the girl who made you drift away from your family.”

At some point, you both had started crying, knowing that there was no way you could fix your relationship.

“I’m so sorry, y/n.” He apologized for the millionth time. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know you didn’t.” You held no grudge against him, after all, you would’ve probably done the same if you were in his situation. “Just promise me one thing. You’ll do what’s best for yourself, not for me or for your parents.” He nodded, eyes watering. “I should probably leave now.”

“Wait.” He held onto your wrist, his lost puppy eyes looking directly into your own. “If it isn’t too much to ask, can I have one last kiss?”

It was indeed to much to ask, but you didn’t care. You wanted to feel the warmth of his lips against yours one last time, so you went for it.

Straddling his lap, you grabbed the back of his head to pull him even closer. It was a kiss filled with passion and love, it was your own way of saying goodbye. It took a while for you to pull away.

“Thank you.” He murmured, hands caressing your hips. “I love you so much, y/n. I promise I’ll be back, okay?”

“I love you too, Lucas.” With that being said, you stood up. Avoiding to look back, you made your way out.

Chenle was still outside when you came down, leaning against his car with his arms wide open for you.

You didn’t hesitate to crash your body against his, crying your eyes out as he combed your hair with his fingers.

“I’m here for you. Always.”

(...)

3 years later...

“Where are you?”

“I’m picking up my luggage, see you at the parking lot?”

“Okay.”

A few minutes later, the tall, dark haired man walked out of the airport. A sports bag hanging from his left shoulder while the opposite hand dragged the suitcase.

“Kun!”

“Hey, man.” They greeted each other with a big hug. “I missed you.”

“Sorry, I wanted to visit earlier but work has been a bitch.” Specially when he didn’t even like what he was doing.

“Same here, it seems like the students get more unbearable with every semester.” He helped Lucas load his belongings into the truck. “So how’s Mrs. Wong been? Are you getting along well?”

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes while getting inside the car. “Last week, my mom asked us about our sex life. She was like ‘I expect to have grandkids by the end of next year’, the last time we kissed was in our wedding.”

“So you’re gonna be a dad?” He mocked, starting the engine.

“Not from her kids at least.” Kun knew exactly what that meant.

“Lucas, you should really get over her. You’re a married man.”

“Not for much longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been seeing a lawyer, none of us is happy with our relationship and we’ve already wasted three years of our life in it. It’s time to end it.”

“And what do your parents think about this?”

“They don’t have a say in this matter. I’m and adult and it’s my future we’re talking about.”

“And why couldn’t you come to this conclusion three years ago? You would’ve saved me all the suffering from listening to you ranting about how much you missed y/n.” Lucas hit his arm playfully, a big smile on his face as the thought of you crossed his mind.

He unlocked his phone, your picture was still his wallpaper.

“Has she graduated yet?”

“She’s actually doing her master’s degree. She’s an exceptional student, a lot of important labs already have their eyes on her.”

“Of course they do, they’d be stupid if they didn’t.” His finger traced your figure, smiling proudly at the image.

“Oh look at you, you haven’t stopped loving her one bit.”

“Stop it.”

“Oh, by the way, we need to stop by the campus. I have to pick up exams to check them at home.” Lucas’ eyes lit up at the possibility of meeting you.

“Do you think she’ll be there?”

“Probably, she’s usually devouring a book at the library or at the lab. Sometimes she stops by at my office for tutoring or my opinion on something.”

“You better not have tried something with her.”

“Actually...”

“What?”

“Just kidding, she’s my student, nothing more.”

“She better be.”

The campus was thankfully near the airport. Lucas almost fell as he exited the vehicle, eager to see you once again after all those years.

“Careful, give me a call when you’re done looking for her.”

“Sure.” He replied, already running away from the car towards the library.

He met a lot of his old students on the way, briefly greeting them before resuming his search. You weren’t there, so he decided to try at the labs.

You weren’t there either, but your ID and belongings were. You looked different in your picture, you looked so mature now, but your innocent aura was still intact.

“Are you looking for y/n?” One of the students asked as soon as he saw Lucas eyeing her ID. “She just left.”

“Oh, thank you.” He replied, still not taking his eyes off your mesmerizing face.

His phone vibrated.

‘She’s in my office.’ His heart sped up and his legs automatically started moving.

On his way to Kun’s office he tried to think of ways to greet you. Would a simple ‘hello’ be okay? Or would it be appropriate to tell you how much he missed you?

His mind was so busy he didn’t realized he was already in front of the office. He took a deep breath before opening the door. Your back was facing him while you passionately explained Kun the results of your experiment, not even realizing who just made an appearance.

“Y/n.” Lucas called from the door frame, causing you to interrupt your explanation.

“Yes?” You finally turned around. “Lucas?”

Your hair was tied up in a messy hair bun, a pair of safety glasses covering your eyes and a stained lab coat around your body. You looked like a mad scientist, a cute mad scientist.

“Hi.” Was the only thing he could pronounce. ‘How pathetic’ he thought.

“Long time no see.” You smiled so warmly, as if he hadn’t abandoned you to marry another woman. “Have you been well?”

“Y-yes, I mean, as well as I can be.” Your eyes wandered to his hand, taking notice of the golden ring around his finger.

“I’m glad.” You dedicated him another smile before turning back to face your professor. “I’ll send you the draft of my report as soon as I finish it. Excuse me.” You grabbed your laptop from the desk and went out, murmuring a small ‘bye’ to Lucas on your way out. The scent of your perfume striking him with a wave of nostalgia.

“Well, I don’t know what I was expecting but this was definitely not it.”

“I don’t know why I thought we would both burst into tears and say how much we missed each other.” He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

“She’s probably going back to the lab, in case you want to talk to her again.” He nodded. “I’ll wait for you so we can head to my house.”

“Alright, I’ll try to be quick.” He went out again, this time at a slower pace.

He went back to the labs, your voice receiving him as soon as he crossed the entrance. Most of the students had already left, it was already getting dark.

“Zhong Chenle, get out of here, you’re distracting me.”

“But, y/n, I’m hungry and I don’t want to go alone to the cafeteria.”

“Not my problem.” You were focused on writing your report, the safety glasses still on your face.

“Uhm, are you busy?” Lucas knocked on the door, catching yours and Chenle’s attention.

“You’re back.” His eyes were wide open. “You know what? I’ll go get our food, see you.”

“Coward.” You muttered. “Come in, Lucas.” Even though there was no hint of anger in your voice, the fact that you were calling him Lucas and not Xuxi meant something bad.

“What are you working on, huh?” He says on the stool beside yours, taking a look at your screen.

“Just trying to find a cure for AIDS, nothing special.” You typed a few more words before saving the file. “What did you want to talk about Mr. Wong?”

“I think you know what.”

“I think so.” You removed the glasses, red marks over the area where they used to be.

“Cute.” He though out loud, causing you to touch your face, the color of your cheeks becoming pinker with every second. It was amazing how much of an effect his words still had on you.

“S-sorry, I wore these for more than five hours.”

“Don’t worry, I know what it’s like.” He tapped his fingers against the table. “Three years huh?”

“Yeah, seems like it was yesterday when we...” You chose not to finish the sentence, knowing that it would probably make you cry.

“I missed you.” His hand reached out for yours, the golden band around his finger burning your skin. “There hasn’t been a single day where I haven’t thought about you. You managed to take over my mind in a way that no one else could ever do.”

“We can’t do this.” With your free hand, you gently removed his hand from yours. “You’re married.”

“I’m getting divorced soon.” Your heart thumped so loudly against your chest that you were afraid he’d hear it. “We just need to fix some things and this whole thing will be over.”

You pulled out your notebook from your bag, tearing a piece of paper to write in it. You handed it to him with a genuine smile.

“Here’s my new number. Give me a call when you finish fixing those things, I’ve already waited for three years, so what’s a few more months?”

[i-need-entertainment]

My Little Family: Fatgum

*In this Oneshot you, the reader, are Overhaul’s wife but not by choice. You are 22 years old and have a 4 year old son. Let’s just say Overhaul took over at like idk 18. I also may e v e n t u a l l y turn this into a book.*

“Alright, is there anything else I should know?” Fatgum asked as he finished listening to Rappa’s explanation of Overhaul’s true plans. Rappa went quiet for a second, before speaking up. “Yeah, you guys are here for the kid, right?” He asked, looking Fatgum in the eye, and for the first time during this entire encounter was completely serious. Fatgum nodded. “Yeah, we are. Why?” “Because there’s someone else y’gotta get outta here.” Fatgum looked confused for a second. Someone else? But who else could be here? Whoever it is still needs help, and as long as a fight isn’t involved he should be fine. “Who? Our intel only knew about Eri.” Rappa shook his head, “From what I know this was from before Eri. Listen, it doesn’t matter now what matters is you get ‘er outta here.” “I agree, but who is ‘she’?” Rappa sighed and looked at Fatgum once again. “Overhole’s wife. She’s got their kid with her too.” Fatgum was visibly taken a back at Rappa’s statement. He had a wife!? And a kid?! Rappa noticed his confusion and decided to elaborate. “From what I found out he was given her from a Yakuza agreement or something like that. Anyways, he needed a wife and an heir for him to take over so he married her and they had the kid. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you he’s not exactly husband or dad material so  you really need to get em out.” Fatgum was even more disgusted with Overhaul than he originally had been. Not only had he done unspeakable things to Eri, but he also kidnapped a woman, forced her to get married and then locked her and their son away! Oh no, not happening. “Where are they?” “I don’t know the specifics, but I know they’re on this level, by the office I think” Just then the cops entered the room and took Rappa and Tengai into custody, also taking an unconscious Kirishima to the ambulance. “You guys go ahead, there’s someone else we gotta get outta here.” The cops nodded and a few went with him, since he couldn’t exactly fight at full capacity anymore. They started down the winding hallways, desperately searching for the woman and her child. *smash* Fatgum looked into the room of the door he had just kicked down. He looked the right and saw a young, beautiful woman sitting in the corner holding a small boy with dark brown hair and golden eyes huddled to her chest.

(insert picture of ‘Kenji Chisaki’)

He walked in and slowly made his way towards her. “Hello Miss, I’m the pro hero Fatgum, we’re here to get you out.” He gave his signature smile and felt his heart flutter when the woman started crying happy tears, while her son perked up at the mention of ‘pro hero Fatgum’. Fatgum smiled, “Can I have your name miss…?” She stood up, considerably shorter than the taller male, still holding the small boy in her arms. “It’s Y/n…Y/n Chisaki.” Fatgum then looked to the small boy, “And what’s your name little man?” The little boy then looked at his mom who nodded and looked shyly back to the hero. “I-It’s Kenji…Kenji Chisaki.” “Well Kenji, Mrs. Chisaki, We’re here to get ya outta here, let’s go.” He held a hand out to the woman who slowly, but gratefully took it. He led them outside where he left them with some cops and went to find Kirishima.

*After the whole fight, we are now in the hospital.*

(Insert picture of hospitalized Fatgum)

“I’m hungry” Fatgum mumbled as he sat in his hospital bed, messy blond hair going every which way. He sighed as he looked around the room. He knew he had to be here, but did he have to be here?! Not only was It boring but he couldn’t even get a decent portion of food! All he really wanted was to go home to his own bed and sleep. Right after food of course. Just then there was a knock at the door. “Come in!” He loudly answered. The door nob turned and in walked a woman with h/l h/c hair, holding a bag in one hand, and the smaller hand of a little boy in the other. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but a little someone,” She smiled as she looked down to the small boy, who shyly looked away. “Wanted to say thank you.” Fatgum smiled widely and looked down to the little boy. “Not at all! I’m glad you stopped by! You two are welcome anytime.” He ruffled the little boys hair and smiled at the woman, taking this moment to realize how beautiful she was. The little boy’s eyes shined with amazement at the hero, who he had always admired. He didn’t have the best upbringing. And even though he’s only four he knew what his father did was bad. He knew because how he treated his mother was bad. Y/n always did her best to shield him from her husband, putting on a fake smile and trying to give her son a chance at a normal childhood. She also did anything she could to stop him from turning into the cold blooded Yakuza leader his father wanted him to be. So, instead of teaching him to hate quirks, she taught him the different types. Instead of training him to hate heroes, she told him about all the different ones. Fatgum had been his favorite. Y/n did everything she could to give her son a better life, and she had also reaped plenty of consequences for it, but if it was for her baby, it would be worth it. So when her son asked if he could see the hero, she reached out to Aizawa who set up the meeting. Kenji shyly looked down to his feet, hands clasped behind his back. “U-uhm…mm.. Thank you…for saving me and mommy.” The boy looked up at him and smiled. Fatgum smiled back patting the young boy on the head, eliciting a small giggle from him. Y/n could feel the tears starting to gather, she couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled like that. Let alone laugh! “It’s not a problem little guy. I’m just glad you and your mommy are safe.” Fatgum looked at Y/n before looking back down to Kenji. Kenji nodded and went back to his mother’s side, lightly grasping her pants leg. Kenji, can you wait outside with the nice Police officer please? Mommy just wants to talk to Mr. Fatgum.” Kenji nodded and waved goodbye to the hero, who happily waved back. “He really likes you. You’re actually his favorite hero, he’s just too shy to say it.” Y/n smiled and lightly giggled. Fatgum’s eyes widened and he felt his face get hotter, he quickly averted his eyes, shyly laughing. “I just wanted to say thank you…I know I already did, but, I just can’t thank you enough for saving my son.” She looked up at him with soft features, and a grateful smile on her face. “It’s really no problem Mrs. Chisaki.” “Y/n, just call me Y/n. I haven’t gotten our names changed yet, but I want to start over.” “That reminds me, what are you doing? Living arrangements and all?” “Well, right now we’re staying at UA in one of the spare teacher’s dorms. They wanted to keep us close by in case one of ka- Overhaul’s men came to find us. It’s not permanent, but until I can find a job it’ll work.” Fatgum thought for a moment. “Hey, have you got your heart set on somethin yet?” She shook her head “No, not many places are interested in hiring the ex-wife of Overhaul. Despite the circumstances.” “If I offered you a job…would you be interested?” Y/n looked at him in shock. “W-wait, really!?” He nodded. “Yup. Everyone deserves a second chance. There’s even a really good day-care Kenji can go to right across from my agency.” “Are you sure?! I don’t want to be a burden-“ “Y/n.” She looked at him, heart beat speeding up at seeing his smile, “I promise you would never be a burden.”  Y/n thought for a moment. “Okay. I accept. Thank you!” She leaned forward and hugged him. He was shocked for a moment before his senses kicked in and he hugged back, well with one arm but still. Y/n as soon as she realized what she did jumped back. “Sorry! I didn’t realize! I didn’t hurt you did I?!” He laughed “Don’t be sorry! I hugged back didn’t I? And despite the bandages it’s really not that bad. I think the doctors went overkill.” Y/n lightly laughed and smiled. They both were sitting there, both admiring the other. “O-oh! I almost forgot!” Fatgum watched with curiosity and amusement as the young woman fumbled with her bad before she took out a Tupperware container. She handed it over to him and she encouraged him to open it. He opened the lid revealing home made Takoyaki. His eyes widened and he felt like he could burst into happy tears at the sight in front of him. “I hope they’re okay, it’s been awhile since I got to cook them from scratch.” He took one and ate it, it was amazing! “It’s amazing!!” She laughed, really happy he enjoyed it. “I take it you like them then?” He quickly nodded his head. “Okay then, I can bring you more tomorrow. I just figured you’d like it more than the hospital food.” He looked her dead in the eye and nodded. “Definitely. And only if its no trouble.” “Its not, honest. It was really nice to get back to cooking. It’s a big hobby of mine.” “Well, whenever you need a taste tester, you know where to find me!” He had a dorky grin on his face as he looked at her, and she couldn’t help but grin at how he looked like a little kid at a playground. She broke herself out of her thoughts and decided it was time she and Kenji head home. “Um, I should probably get Kenji home, it’s almost dinner time. I’ll see you tomorrow?” He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you don’t want to keep the kid out too late. And sure, feel free to stop by whenever! Especially with food as good as this!” She laughed and made her way to the door, waving goodbye and leaving the hospital with Kenji holding her hand, going on and on about the cool hero.

*One year later* (Time skip because I am author and I hold all power~)

Y/n woke up and rolled over onto her side to run off the alarm she had set on her phone. She yawned, sat up and stretched, getting out of bed to start the day. She showered, brushed her teeth, did her hair/make up and got dressed. She wore her usual for work, a silky white button up blouse with jeans and black heels. She finished up getting ready and made her way to her son’s room. The past year has been amazing. Shortly after she started working for Fatgum, she and Kenji moved into a small home, and the BMI hero grew very close to the duo. Fatgum very often ate dinners with them before going to patrol, he spent a lot of time with them often going to the park with them and stuff like that. He even went with Kenji to is father’s day event at school. To most who didn’t know them, they looked like a little family. If only it was made known how much both of them wanted just that. To be a little family. She opened her sons door and walked over to his bed, crouching down. She gently shook him awake, “Kenji, Kenji baby it’s time to get up.” The little boy slowly opened his eyes, rubbing them and sitting up trying to wake up. “Good morning.” Y/n smiled at her sleepy kid. “Morning mommy…do I get to see Tashiro today?” “Yup, you’ll be coming to my office after school today.” He nodded and smiled a sleepy smile up at his mom. “C’mon, lets get you  ready for school.” He nodded and got out from his bed, walking over to his little dresser and getting ready. After they both had breakfast and Y/n had made the three of them lunch (she made Fatgum lunch everyday) they both loaded into the car. Y/n dropped Kenji off at school and made her way to the Fatgum agency to start her day. She got in, greeted the receptionist and made her way into the elevator. She was just about to close the doors when, “HEY! WAAAAAIITT!!” She looked up to see a frazzled looking Kirishima swiftly running her way. She swiftly threw her hand in the way, pausing the doors from closing, allowing the young red head to enter. “Thanks Mrs. Chisaki! I thought I was gonna have to take the stairs again!” she smiled and gave him a playful flick on the forehead. “Maaaaybe if you had been here earlier, you wouldn’t have had to run~ And I thought I told you Y/n was fine.” Over the past year, Kirishima and Tamaki had become like her little brothers. They both tried their best to be good friends for her after what she had been through, and they always babysat and looked out for Kenji. Kenji had been having a rough time at school. Ever since the kids and teachers found out whose son he was, he wasn’t treated as kindly as he should have been. One day when he was playing at recess a group of 4th graders had ganged up on him and started to beat him up, only for him to discover his quirk. No one was injured, just scared. But when they realized he not only had the looks, name and quirk of his father, they treated him poorly. Y/n had relentlessly fought the school on this, but they never listened to her. After being called some crude words by the principal a suited up Fatgum made his way down to the school to discuss the boys treatment. Lets just say Kenji was treated much nicer now. “I’m sorry Mrs. Y/n…It’s really unmanly of me to be late isn’t it!” Y/n sighed and shook her head. Unable to hide the smile on her lips. “Everybody had those days Kirishima, just be glad you’re not actually late.” He gave her his signature smile just as the doors opened up. “I’m gonna go get ready, see ya later Mrs. Y/n!” “Bye Kirishima!” Y/n waved and made her way to the staff room to get some coffee and put their lunches in the fridge. Y/n, accompanied by her caffeinated goodness, made her way to Fatgum’s office. She opened the door and went in. Fatgum’s head shot up from his desk, and a big goofy smile adorned his face when he saw who it was that had entered his office. “G’mornin Y/n!” Y/n made her way to the small desk she had in his large office. “Good morning Taishiro! Oh! Before I forget, Kenji wanted to know if you’d be at dinner tonight?” He looked up from his desk, same cheeky smile still on his face, “Just Kenji, Huh?” Y/n rolled her eyes, once again unable to hide the smile that came to her lips. Playing along she leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes and crossing her arms. “*sigh* Yeah, I tried to get him to pick someone else, but he just can’t be convinced.” Fatgum let out a hearty chuckle. “I’ll be over tonight, can’t miss out on seeing my favorite bud!” Y/n looked at him, smile still on her face. “Just him?” Fatgum looked back at her, “Not just Kenji.” The two were smiling like love-sick teenagers looking into each other’s eyes. “U-um, can w-we get on w-with patrol n-now…” They both swiftly looked over to see a very embarrassed Tamaki to be sitting on the couch, right where he had been the entire time the two adults had been so obviously flirting. Y/n sat back and buried her nose in paperwork, and Fatgum cleared his voice, popping one last Takoyaki into his mouth. “Yeah I guess we should get going. C’mon Suneater! Lets grab Red and get goin, yeah?” The young man just nodded, giving Y/n a small ‘good bye’ and walking out the door. “I’ll see ya later Y/n.” “See you Later Taishiro.” With one last smile, he left for a long day of saving the city.

~Time skip to after patrol and Kenji is in the office~

Fatgum sighed as he opened the door to his office. Today had been an especially rough day. Not only had he used up all of his stored fat, but he also had to do a bunch of paperwork. He was not looking forward to that. But he was looking forward to seeing his two favorite people. He walked in and immediately heard little feet, looking to his left he watched as Kenji ran up to him and clutched his legs, looking up to him. “Hi Tashiro! How was patrol!” He couldn’t help but to grin at the smiling little boy looking up at him. Over the past year Kenji and Y/n have become more than friends to him. They’ve become his family. He’s grown very attached to the two, and he has every intention of taking care of them for the rest of his life. If only he could tell Y/n how he feels. Maybe then he could be Kenji’s actual dad…and maybe someday he could be Y/n’s husb- “Tashiro!” He snapped out of his trance, glancing down to the boy before picking him up and swinging him around. He then stopped spinning and just held the boy, leaning away so he could talk to him. “Not bad little guy! How was school today?” Kenji sighed looking away, his golden eyes slightly squinting. “…Not good..” Fatgum’s grin fell as he looked at the little boy who was avoiding his gaze. “Hey, what happened?” Kenji looked at Fatgum, Golden eyes filled with shame and sadness. “The kids kept calling me names. They call me ‘Overhaul’ or ‘killer’ and ‘villain’! But I’m not! I’m not any of those things!” Fatgum felt his heart break at the sight of the little boy’s eyes filling with tears. “I-I don’t, don’t want my name. I hate it! I hate him!” He lunged forward in Fatgum’s arms, hugging his neck tightly as he cried into his shoulder, Fatgum only held him tighter. “Hey, hey you’re not any of those things! And you’re definitely not his son, maybe by blood, but if home is what you make it, then family is too! Don’t listen to those kids, you know who you are, you’re a good person Kenji, and you’re turning out into an amazing hero,” Fatgum smiled at him, and helped Kenji wipe some of his tears away. Just then Y/n walked into the office, completed paperwork in her hands. “Hey, what happened?” Y/n had a concerned look on her face as she made her way over to Fatgum and Kenji. Fatgum carefully handed her Kenji and she soothingly rubbed his back trying to help him calm down. “Was it about school today?” Fatgum nodded and Y/n kissed the top of his head whispering a few ‘You’re okay baby’ and ‘it’s okay’ to try and calm him down. “Hey, why don’t we go ahead home for dinner? Then maybe play some games?” Kenji sat up, rubbing his eyes he nodded. “As much as I want to, I have to-“ “Do paperwork?” Y/n said as she held up the already completed paperwork with a cheeky grin. “I had the secretary send it over when you got it. You can thank Tamaki later for telling me. Fatgum let out a long sigh of relief, a big smile gracing his lips. “Man I love you.” His face went red as he said those words. SHOOT. SHE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HEAR THAT!!! Y/n blushed but turned around, setting Kenji on the ground, a ridiculous smile on her face. “Go ahead and get changed, I’ll get the car ready.” She gave him a sincere smile, trying to hide how incredibly happy and flustered she was at his statement. Y/n and Fatgum had been flirting for a while now. They both had a pretty good idea of how the other felt, but neither one wanted to complicate things. One was scared of making her uncomfortable, and the other didn’t want to be a burden for the already hard working hero. But enough was enough. Fatgum was not a ‘sit on the sidelines and wait’ kinda guy. He loved Y/n and Kenji with his whole heart. He couldn’t care less who Kenji’s biological dad was, because he knew if given the choice Kenji would choose him in a heartbeat. Just like Fatgum would choose him and Y/n over his hero agency. Tonight, he was going to tell her his idea. He got changed into his casual clothes (dark wash jeans, white t-shirt with a blue button up, unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up.) and met up with Y/n and Kenji, getting into the car and driving to their house. They got out and headed inside, and while Y/n made some f/f Fatgum played heroes with Kenji. “No fair! I wanna be Fatgum! He’s so cool!” Fatgum teased as he ‘tried to reason’ with the six year old. “mmmmm…” Kenji pretended to think for a moment, “No. I wanna be Fatgum tonight. You can beeeee…” Kenji looked around until he spotted his All Might action figure. “You can be All Might.” Fatgum sighed in fake sadness. “Alright, I guuueesss I can deal with All Might.” Kenji giggled and started running around the room, Fatgum running after him. Y/n stood in the doorway watching as her son played with her crush. She originally came up to say dinner was ready, but after watching this? She couldn’t just stop it! It was too cute! When Fatgum had eventually caught up to Kenji he swung him up on his shoulders, the six-year old’s giggles still hadn’t stopped. “Alright you two, dinners ready.” Both of their ears perked at the sound of dinner, and Kenji scrambled down to go and wash his hands before he took a seat at the table. “Y’know, I think ya might wanna get him into a doctor.” Fatgum said as he made his way over to the doorway. “Oh?” Y/n looked at him with a questioning eyebrow raised. “He’s the one kid on the planet that would pick me over All Might!” Y/n let out a light hearted laugh, “What can I say? He might be a little biased.” Y/n teased. Fatgum shook his head as he laughed. Him and Y/n then made their way down to the dining table. They all took their seats, said a small prayer, and began to eat their food. When they finished Fatgum and Y/n noticed Kenji had been a little antsy in his chair. “Hey bud, you ok? Your squirmin’ quite a bit there!” Kenji looked a little uncomfortable for a bit avoiding both of their gazes before he looked at them both, gaining a little confidence in the loving looks they both were giving to him. “I….I want to change my name….I don’t like having his name….I want…someone else’s..” The last part was quiet so they didn’t really hear it, but they knew he didn’t want ‘Chisaki’ any longer. And to be honest, neither did Y/n. (OOKAY I KnOw that when Y/n and Overhaul divorced then her name could have been changed back to her original name, buuuuut please bear with me, for SOME reason she couldn’t.) “I know, and I’m sorry Kenji, it’s just really hard. We’ll go to the court house tomorrow, okay?” Kenji looked a little hopeful, but he knew it would go like it always did. They would see ‘Chisaki’ and wouldn’t even try to change it. Even seemingly ‘quirkless’ and imprisoned people were still scared of him. Which is exactly why they wanted to change it!! “Wait.” They both looked over to Fatgum who had a serious look on his face. “Kenji, do you think you can wait just a little bit longer?” Kenji looked at him confused but nodded his head nonetheless. Y/n looked at him, still not quite getting what he was implying. “Taishiro…what…what do you mean?” Fatgum turned completely in his chair to face Y/n, taking her hands in his, he looked her straight in the eyes, “I mean, if you can wait just a little bit longer, will you take mine instead?” Y/n felt her heart swell with his words. “Tashiro..w-what do you mean!?” Kenji asked, “I mean, if you’re mom will have me, I want to be your dad Kenji. I want us to be a happy little family.” He smiled at the boy, whose eyes were lit up in hopefulness. He then looked back to see Y/n who was crying happy tears, “Y/n…Will you marry me?” Y/n wiped her eyes and nodded, letting out a laugh as she tried to stop crying. “Yes, yes I will.” Fatgum grasped her in a tight hug and Kenji leaped down from his chair to join the now family hug. “I love you Y/n, Kenji. So, so much!” Y/n smiled and kissed his cheek. And Kenji just buried himself further into his chest. “We love you too daddy!” When Fatgum ran into the Shie Hassaikai base, he expected a fight, blood, tears, and maybe even death. But he never could have expected to come out of it with his whole world. His little family.

[carewyncromwell]

[HPHM] Carewyn Cromwell and Orion Amari Cinderella AU Moodboard

x~x~x~x

Once upon a time, there were two kingdoms at war -- the land of Royaume with rolling valleys and mountain ranges, and the land of Florence by the southeastern sea. Their conflict had started fifty years ago, rooted in a territory dispute that blew up in an assassination and full-scale war. Since then, the royal family of Royaume, including the young Prince Henri, was kept under very tight house-arrest. It also resulted in many families gaining status and power in the two nation’s governments through investing in war.

One of those such families in the nation of Royaume were the Cromwells, led by the cold and ruthless Lord Charles Cromwell. The Cromwells put in a lot of their own money investing in the War, and those investments only came back to them tenfold, making them incredibly wealthy and very well-regarded among Royaume’s royal court. The King of Royaume needed all of the financial assistance he could get -- especially since he’d spent a lot of money to hire a mercenary from an outside country to assassinate the Crown Prince of Florence in an attempt to end the War, only for the War to go on unabated when the King of Florence coughed up a replacement heir. And as luxurious as the Royaumanian palace and many of its country estates looked, a lot of the lower classes weren’t getting their fair share, around paying for the soldiers at war. There were rumors that Florence was better-off, since they simply used black magic to make money and food appear out of fat air, but that was widely considered to be unfounded rumors. Royaumanians were very distrustful of magic and those who practiced it, and Florence’s harboring of witches and wizards didn’t do much to endear the common man to their enemy country.

This was why, one day at the local market in Royaume’s capital, there was a lot of fuss made when one of the street vendors -- an old miser named Argus Filch --  suspected a strange man of buying ingredients for a potion.

“I’m not stupid, boy,” said Mr. Filch, looking over the stranger with suspicion. “You think those things you’ve been picking up like a crow look like anything other than some kind of black magic recipe?”

The stranger in question -- a young, tanned, black-eyed man with a beard and slightly-too-long dark hair -- responded with remarkable calm.

“I assure you, sir, black magic is certainly not my intention,” he said quietly.

“Oh yeah?” challenged Mr. Filch. “What’s all this for, then?”

“A friend,” the young man answered.

“A friend, eh? Some nasty old witch in the forest, I’m sure -- thinking of mixing up some poison potion -- ”

“Is there a problem here?”

Both men looked up, very startled.

A young lady astride a white horse had just come to a stop beside them. She was dressed in a light yellow gown with green sleeves and her ginger hair was done up in netting decked with pearls. It was a peculiar sight, to see so well-dressed a woman riding her own horse through the market rather than riding in a carriage, even if she did ride side-saddle.

The ginger-haired lady glanced at the dark-haired stranger out the side of her almond-shaped blue eye. Although her face was as stoic as a marble statue’s, there was something about her gaze that caught his attention. It was discerning, and yet...not cold. Not condescending.

The lady then turned to Mr. Filch.

“Good sir,” she said, “why do you harangue my escort?”

The dark-haired stranger blinked, but otherwise kept the surprise from his face. Mr. Filch himself blinked several times in rapid succession.

“Y-your escort?” he sputtered. “Then...you’re who he was shopping for?”

“That I am,” said the lady very coolly. “Is there a problem with my purchases?”

“W-well, yes, in fact!” Mr. Filch stammered, his suspicion returning even though he was clearly intimidated. “What could a fine lady such as yourself want with this sort of...pagan nonsense?”

The lady raised her eyebrows dryly. “‘Pagan nonsense?’”

“Yes!” said Mr. Filch, his voice becoming a bit louder in his defensiveness. “Rosemary, henbane -- ”

“I require rosemary for the kitchen staff, to season our meals,” said the lady at once. “And henbane makes for pleasant incense -- we use it to stifle the smell of cigar smoke, after large parties.”

Filch looked a bit abashed.

“...And what about the absinthe? That stuff’s pretty strong...and the catswort...”

“My uncle brews drinks with absinthe, as a palette cleanser after large meals....and surely you yourself know of how much house cats enjoy catswort? I believe I see cat fur on your coat.”

“Well, yes, but...but what about the Mandrakes?” challenged Filch. “That is pretty occult, if I’ve ever -- ”

“The Mandragora plant has some of the prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen,” the lady said, and her blue eyes grew a little narrower. “Now have I satisfactorily nullified your concerns? I’m afraid I have an urgent appointment at the palace, and I know my grandfather Lord Cromwell would be very displeased if I was late for it because someone suspected his family of aligning themselves with witchcraft.”

Mr. Filch suddenly went very, very white. “L-Lord Cromwell!? Y-you’re related to -- ?!”

He abruptly prostrated himself before her. “My lady!”

The display actually seemed to make the young Lady Cromwell look incredibly uncomfortable -- as if she hadn’t intended for the threat to make the vendor react with quite so much anxiety.

“Rise, please,” she said, and her voice seemed oddly remorseful. “That’s not necessary. Just be on your way and leave this man be, please.”

“Yes, my lady!” said Mr. Filch very quickly, looking no less anxious. “O-of course, my lady...”

With that, he slunk away, back down the street toward his stall.

Lady Cromwell looked down at the dark-haired stranger again. His sparkling black eyes had not left her face for almost the entire exchange and were very difficult to read.

“Have you bought everything you need?” she asked under her breath.

The stranger inclined his head in a single nod. “Yes.”

Lady Cromwell nodded in return, a very small smile touching the corners of her red lips. “Good. Walk beside my horse for a block or so. I’ll escort you out of the market, so you can head home.”

She flicked the reins and started her horse off at a leisurely trot. The dark-haired man hesitated briefly, before adjusting the basket under his arm so that the handle hung on his shoulder and following her.

“That was some very clever thinking on your part,” he said quietly.

Lady Cromwell raised her eyebrows.

“You seem surprised,” she said dryly. “Have you never encountered a clever woman before?”

“On the contrary,” the man replied, “I’m fortunate to count several as my friends. But I must confess, I did not expect such kindness from someone in your position.”

“And pray, what ‘position’ is that?”

The man inclined his head respectfully. “A lady of the Cromwell estate, of course. After all, as you yourself said...your grandfather most assuredly would be offended if someone associated him and his family with witchcraft.”

Lady Cromwell shot a quick glance at him out the side of her eye. Then she faced forward again.

“...I suppose I...have never been that much like the rest of my family,” she said softly. “Excluding my brother.”

“The young Lord Tristan Cromwell?” asked the man.

“No -- Jacob Cromwell,” she replied. “He’s at the war front.”

The man’s dark eyes flickered with a strange, sad glint.

“I see...”

The lady brought her horse to a stop and faced the man more fully.

“Well then, this is where I leave you. I’m sorry if it requires more of a walk for you to return home, but I must be off to the castle -- I’m already running behind.”

“It’s no problem at all,” said the dark-haired stranger. “It truly is not so far of a walk for me.”

Lady Cromwell nodded politely. “Very well. Farewell, then, Mr...?”

“With respect, my lady,” said the man with a slight wry smile, “perhaps it’s best that we not share our identities.”

The red-haired lady cocked her eyebrows sardonically. “Seems rather rude of you, considering you already know mine.”

“Ah, but I don’t, truly,” said the stranger, and his black eyes sparked with something almost mischievous. “I know your family name, yes, but that’s not who you are, is it? And truthfully even who you are now isn’t really that important. I’d say who you wish to be is far more telling than who you are at the present moment.”

Lady Cromwell raised an eyebrow, intrigued a bit despite herself. “Really? And who do you wish to be, sir?”

His black eyes twinkled a bit more, making them resemble two miniature night skies with hundreds of tiny pinprick stars.

“...A free man.”

Lady Cromwell’s eyes actually softened a bit, almost sympathetically.

“...Well, I hope you achieve that dream, Mr. Freeman,” she said in an unusually kind voice.

She flicked the reins of her horse.

“Farewell!” she called behind her.

Despite himself, the dark-haired stranger felt his face breaking into a broad smile as he watched her gallop away.

“Farewell,” he murmured, “Lady Cromwell.”

Not long after she was out of sight, a familiar black carriage appeared around a corner, and the door cracked open so that one could enter it. With an airy sigh, the dark-haired man climbed into the carriage and shut the door behind him, before the carriage rode off.

Not long after, the woman who’d been called “Lady Cromwell” arrived at the Royaumanian palace. She received a lot of attention from the castle staff for her mother’s old dress and formal hair and make-up -- and when she approached the thrones of the King and Queen, she startled everyone with her greeting.

“Your Majesties,” she said lowly, her blue eyes downcast to the floor to obscure the faint nerves she felt, “my name is Carewyn. Lord Cromwell sent me, so that I may serve his Highness, the Prince.”

The King looked very startled. “Lord Cromwell? Then...”

His face suddenly burst into an incredulous smile.

“...Why then, you’re the new maidservant! Lord Cromwell’s serving girl! My, but you have cleaned up -- I never would have guessed!”

“Clearly Lord Cromwell treats his servants well, if even they look the part of a courtier,” said the Queen, and she couldn’t help but giggle behind her hand.

Carewyn successfully resisted the urge to scoff. Charles most certainly had not told her to come dressed in her mother’s old dress or doll herself up quite this much -- he wanted Carewyn to be eyes and ears for their family, not to draw attention away from her cousins vying for the Prince’s hand. But Carewyn had her own reasons for wanting to make a good first impression.

“Come nearer to me, child,” said the Queen.

Carewyn obeyed politely. She still had some trouble meeting the King and Queen’s eyes, but she kept her composure as best she could.

“Turn for me.”

Faintly confused, Carewyn nonetheless did so. The Queen looked very pleased.

“Oh, she’s just like a little china doll!” she said through a simpering smile. “Prince Henri is going to have such fun with her, wouldn’t you say, dear?”

“Yes, yes, indeed,” said the King with a chortle. “I don’t know if you’re aware, Carewyn, but my son has quite a knack for -- ”

“Father!”

Carewyn couldn’t stop herself from turning around in surprise as the man who had to be Prince Henri strode up the hall.

He certainly was dressed the part, that was for certain. He wore a doublet made of gold-trimmed purple velvet complete with a brocaded cape and a matching hat and breeches with white stockings and gold-buckled black shoes.

“Henri, how good of you to join us,” said the Queen brightly. “Carewyn -- this is Henri Lancelot-Yves Andre -- Crown Prince of Royaume.”

Carewyn curtsied politely. “It’s an honor, your Highness.”

The dark-skinned prince Henri gave a bright white grin. “Ah, then you’re the new maidservant! I think I can see why you were sent over -- your fashion is on point, despite your dress being of an older style...”

He offered a hand politely to her.

“Come -- we must get you fitted appropriately!”

With faint hesitance, Carewyn rested her hand on top of the prince’s and followed him out.

“Fitted, Your Highness?” she asked. “I thought I merely would receive a uniform, once I arrived.”

“Oh, you will,” said the Prince brightly, “but no member of the castle staff is going to wear a uniform that doesn’t fit her properly -- I’ll need to tailor it. And please...call me Andre.”

Meanwhile, the dark-haired stranger called “Freeman” was getting an earful from the man in the carriage.

“Orion, you can’t keep running off every time you’re able to sidestep your attendants,” said the blond-haired man in the carriage. His arms were crossed, and although his expression was grave, it wasn’t particularly strict or reproachful. “There’s a lot of military strategy to discuss.”

“I learn a lot more about our enemy here on the streets than I ever could in a tower, McNully,” said Orion serenely. Once he’d finished organizing his basket of herbs, he lay it down on the seat across from him. “Don’t let me forget to deliver that to Miss Haywood, for the wounded.”

“You could stand to learn about your enemy in both places,” said McNully, “and you could also stand to think a bit more critically before disguising yourself and wandering across the border. Do you know what the Royaumanians would do, if they caught you?”

Orion considered this. “Hmm...perhaps that would make a good strategy. Cleopatra herself apparently smuggled herself inside a rug, so as to parley with Julius Caesar -- ”

“Yes, but Cleopatra’s older half-brother hadn’t been killed on Caesar’s orders beforehand,” McNully cut him off a bit more forcefully.

He sighed heavily.

“Orion...I understand you never asked for any of this. I mean, of all the people I could’ve seen becoming heir to the throne of Florence, I’d have said you only had a 3% chance of being picked.”

“Much obliged,” said Orion with a rather placid smile.

His face then grew a bit more serious.

“Even so,” he said quietly, “it’s my responsibility. And so is ending this war, preferably in such a way that balance is restored.”

“Kind of hard to do, when Royaume seem more interested in killing off royal family members than negotiating,” said McNully. “At this rate, I’d say the odds are slim they’ll accept peace over all-out surrender -- 10%, tops.

Orion shook his head. “Its leaders, maybe, but not its people. There is goodness among them. Patience, tenacity, loyalty, and fire. A desire for peace and stability, in place of war and loss.”

“And an irrational hatred of us, bred out of a fear of everyone and anyone even slightly associated with magic,” McNully pointed out.

“Not all of them feel that way.”

“A good 98% do.”

Orion glanced out the window at the large wall that marked the border of Royaume and Florence. Positioned in the distance were a battalion of Royaumanian soldiers shooting their guns and yelling -- no doubt they were being distracted just long enough for their carriage to slip through unnoticed.

“However slim the number,” said Orion quietly, “there are those here who don’t fear the unknown and mysterious -- whose kindness gives them courage...”

The face of the ginger-haired lady he’d met in the market rippled over the Florentine Prince’s mind again, and his lips curled up in a small smile.

“That’s something we can count as a blessing and use to our advantage.” 

[mae-gi-writes]

Weak Spot | Q (The Boyz Imagine)

Royal Kingdom AU: It’s Changmin’s job to protect you, but you can’t help but worry. 

Genre: fluff, royal kingdom au, a little drama? 

Words: 2K 

-----------

“Show me.” 

Changmin shifts uneasily under my gaze, his face painting the perfect picture of a guilty child having gone out and about without his parents’ consent as I keep staring him down with an insistence that causes him to flinch. My jaw is clenched, taking note of the way he holds on to his side, the way his breaths come out a little more rattled each time he exhales. 

I take a step closer and hiss, “show me, Changmin. Now.” 

A few seconds pass. Then he relents, peeling back his dark soldier’s coat to reveal his white shirt stained with a huge pool of blood sticking against his side. A small gasp falls from my mouth, eyes widening while taking in the huge gash staining his white shirt a dark wine red, so dark, too dark in the shadows of the moon slithering between buildings. 

I suck air between my teeth. Changmin averts his gaze, bows his head. 

“What the fuck?” I snap. 

He hurriedly tugs his jacket back, but my hand shoots out to grasp his wrist in mid-action, “What—“ the words get stuck in my throat like sandpaper and I find myself gasping to try and string some kind of coherent sentence, “What happened to you?” 

“They were prepared, faster somehow—“ I don’t give him time to answer as I grab onto his shoulder and pull him inside my room before we get caught by the other guards. 

The Royal Palace’s security has been on high alert ever since rumours of a rogue pirate wanting to kill the Palace’s heir to overthrow the power of the throne had trickled through the throng of maids and cooks scurrying through the castle grounds. It had been no surprise when my father had tightened security around the borders, and while I wasn’t even their main target — my brother, Chanhee, is the true heir to the throne — my father had deemed it necessary to assign some of the best soldiers to flank the outside of my quarters. 

That includes none other than Chanhee’s best friend, Ji Changmin, presently dripping all over my velvet couch as I maneuver him onto one of the soft futons by the hearth. 

Changmin and I had known each other forever, so it isn’t surprising to find us lingering within close proximity, talking about anything and everything that crossed our minds. Most of the time, I begged Changmin for some of the folk stories he’d hear whenever he’g go down to grab a beer in the village, and we’d spend hours in comfortable silence poring over books and reading, bathed in the afternoon sun rays shining down upon our figures.

That also means that I care, a lot more than I should. That fact is as clear as crystal water. But even that small fact might not help me in such a dire situation. “So? Are you going to tell me what happened?” I ask after I had hurriedly filled a bucketful of water from my washroom, scurrying back out to see Changmin barely holding himself together on the floor with his face scrunched in a permanent scowl.

 I wring a damp cloth with two hands as I nod my head towards his shirt, “Open up.” 

“Your Highness—“ 

I don’t wait for his consent, quickly flick his buttons open as he shies away in protest. He relents after a few seconds upon realizing that I’m not going to let him off so easily and my breath hitches when I finally catch sight of the wound itself. It’s a deep gash, glinting with still fresh blood that hits my nostrils and almost makes me throw up. It’s sick, metallic taste lingers at the roof of my mouth as I swallow hard and proceed to clean the wound. 

I can feel his eyes on me, measuring my every move as though I’m about to crack at any moment. But I don’t give him that satisfaction, instead bending down to focus on making the area a little more bearable, a little cleaner. He stiffens at the first few touches, before forcing himself to relax. The pain is probably unbearable, and I notice the beads of sweat dotting his forehead with effort. Soon, there’s blood coating the cloth, my hands and up my arms, the front of my nightshirt. But I don’t care, wringing it out in the bucket that is now swirling with a tinge of scarlet. 

“So are you going to tell me or do I have to drag it out of you?” I speak up in the silence that has settled throughout the room. 

Changmin lets out a soft sigh then. A few beats of silence pass before he speaks up, “He’s not alone, the rogue I mean. He has a team working with him, and we thought that we had him. But we got ambushed at the last minute,” he shook his head and I notice the silent anger simmering in the corner of his eyes, “we shouldn’t have dropped our guard.” 

“It’s not your fault,” I murmur, “you couldn’t have known.”

His fists clench at his sides, “it is my fault. I should’ve been more wary,” he mutters through grounded teeth, a frown befalling upon his features like a dark cloud, “they managed to slip by because we were being too naive—“ “Changmin,” my hand goes up to cup his cheek, halting his internal battle with himself. His eyes widen at my gesture but I hold his gaze with mine persistently, “you did what you could. And you can’t blame yourself for that,” I search his eyes, “It’s not your fault.” 

“I know, I know, but—“

“No,” I place my index finger on his mouth, shushing him and holding his gaze with mine, “stop it.” 

His teeth clamp down onto his lower lip and though I can feel the turmoil rolling through him in tumulus waves of restrained emotion, I decide to give him some space and reach for a few bandage rolls I had pulled out earlier. Gently, I urge him to lift his arms so that I can wrap the cloth around his torso snugly against his stomach. 

“Too tight?” I glance up at him. He shakes his head, and satisfied, I fasten the ends with a pin and tuck the remaining cloth out of sight. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs and closes his eyes briefly. I can’t stop staring at him, chest suddenly swelling with relief at the notion that Changmin is still safe and sound inside the castle walls. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I knew that something had happened to him, of all people.

“I don’t want you out of my sight,” the words fall from my lips before I can even stop them and my eyes widen in surprise at the hostile firmness in my tone. Changmin’s features harden like steel, “my duty lies with the Kingdom, your highness. It would be a sin for me not to fight alongside my brothers.” “Do you think I want you to die?” I snap back as anger flares through my veins, a terrifying beast that is slowly tugging at the edges of my sanity. Enough is enough, I can’t stand by and watch him get hurt for my sake, ‘look at you! You’re barely holding on as it is! Who knows whether next time you’ll be able to make it back?” 

“That’s my personal business. You don’t get to butt into that.” 

“You’re not listening—“

“You are not listening,” Changmin suddenly bursts out with blind rage and I can’t help but flinch back at the aggressiveness twisting his features into a glare. He continues on without relent, “for once, can you not think about your own selfish desires and try and put the kingdom’s safety first? What about your people? What about the rest of the soldiers who swear their lives to protect you? Don’t you feel bad for them?” 

His words are icy daggers that pierce my heart. My mouth drops open in shock and I stand, stock still and staring at the injured soldier. Changmin stands, chest heaving and shaking with every inhale, eyes narrowed and filled with the kind of white hot anger that I’ve never been witness to. 

And then, before I can say anything else, he swivels around and walks out of the room, leaving only his footsteps and the echo of his words in his wake, pounding through my skull like a string of bitter afterthought.

—————— The rogues attacks seemed to have died down from their first attempt to slither into the castle, and ever since then, Changmin has been avoiding me. It bothers me at first, considering how we have just ended things that night, but the guilt soon presses down on my heart, so much so that I can’t see guards without being reminded of the claims spurting out of Changmin’s mouth as he’d berated me how selfish I was for not thinking of the better good of the people that surround me. 

I’m a princess and heir to the throne, of course I had to take care of my people first. How in the world had I let that simple factor slip through my fingers in exchange for my own selfish desires?

So I stay away from Changmin, stop hanging around the stables and decide to bury my nose in books about ancient civilizations and war zone strategies. It is a measly attempt to become a better leader, but mostly, it keeps me busy so that I don’t have to think about Changmin and the hole that he’s just left in my heart, punctured by words that he can’t take back because they’re true. A few weeks pass before our next attack takes place. Instead of staying out on the eve to hang out with Changmin like I usually do, I decide to retreat to my quarters early, knowing full well that right now, I’m definitely not welcome at the soldiers’ table. I nod at a few guards on the way up to my chambers and slide the door closed, briefly going over the plan in my head and ensuring that we’ve got all entrances to the castle covered. 

A door bangs in the distance. My head whips around, eyes jumping straight to my windowsill. Nothing. Nothing but the wind howling outside. And then, I hear someone. 

“Y/N.”

I almost scream but it gets choked up in my throat when a hand clamps down on my mouth. I struggle feebly for a few seconds before the familiar alto suddenly echoes through my ear: 

“It’s me.” 

The sound of his voice instantly causes my muscles to relax, and I turn in his hold so quickly my head spins. I grab his forearms to steady myself, Changmin’s hands quickly clasping the back of my elbows and sending warmth traveling along my limbs at his touch. 

Our eyes meet. I take the softest of breaths, feeling suddenly all too warm all over from the way he was gazing down into my eyes, his pools of brown the softest caramel in the dim light of the room.

Realization dawns. My eyes widen in alert, “what are you doing here?” “We’ve got enough protection on the walls,” his eyes are searching mine, darting back and forth along my features with the strain of panic flashing across his face, “listen, Y/N, I’m sorry.” 

At this, my thoughts come to a stop. I stare at him, waiting. He draws in a soft breath, looks away briefly, and when he looks back at me, I lose breath at the softness in the shades of caramel brown that seem to call out to my heart, make it squeeze against my chest in a way that makes me bite my lower lip. 

“What I said the other night, I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I was just so upset and scared, I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. I wouldn’t be able to deal with the guilt,” the words rushed out of his mouth like a streaming babble that can’t seem to stop now that it’s now open, a pandora’s box that can’t be shut closed no matter what. 

He rakes a hand through his hair, the mere action rendering my legs to jelly, as he continues, “I don’t have a lot of time and I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you again after this. The enemy is strong and they’re more than capable to take us down if they want to. You saw for yourself, a little closer to my heart and their sword would’ve cost me my life.” 

I blink back the angry tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. I don’t even want to think about Changmin dying. Not now, not ever. I won’t be able to live with the thought if ever this turns out to be a reality. 

I open my mouth to tell him so, lift up my head so I can get one more glimpse of his beautifully chiselled features, made of angles and strong lines. But his hands come up to cup my cheeks. He pulls me close as a gasp falls from my mouth. 

And then, he’s kissing me like this is the last time he’s ever going to see me. His kiss is passionate, mouth staining mine with a newfound feeling that causes my stomach to twist upside down as though I’ve just run through the washing machine. My knees tremble at the warmth blossoming between our bodies and I would’ve collapsed to the floor if not for his arm winding itself around my middle to press me closer. 

He angles his head to the other side, deepening the kiss a little more. I gasp in his mouth and his tongue darts out, licking along my lower lip. The sensation has me dizzy, lightheaded, and as I allow myself to open up to him, I feel a rush of electricity tingle down my spine when his tongue slowly eases around mine in an embrace that causes my hands to fist into his shirt. 

When he pulls away after our long liplock, I notice the softest patches of rose dusting his cheeks, and I can’t help the smile that spreads over my face at Changmin’s embarrassment. 

“What exactly was that, Commander Ji?” I cock my head, eyebrow raised. The said man tries ducking away and averting his gaze. 

He coughs softly into his palm, “a promise,” then, his features harden,"in case I don’t make it back.” 

The smile gets wiped off my face, “don’t say that.” 

Changmin doesn’t answer. Instead, he holds my gaze for a second too long, so that I get a glimpse of the tenderness swimming in his brown orbs. Then, he softly brings his lips to my forehead and pecks the skin there. 

“Wait for me,” he murmurs as I close my eyes to enjoy the warmth of his imprint on my skin. When I open my eyes a second later, he’s gone. ————— I wait. 

And wait.

And wait all night. Dawn breaks over the city like a red veil unleashing its flame. Still, I wait. 

Light streaks over houses like a beam gleaming with shimmering gold. In the distance, birds start chirping.

I wait, too nervous to go to sleep. 

Around nine, I call for the maids and ask them about the soldier’s conditions. “A lot of injuries, your highness,” one of them meeps, “and one death.” That catches my attention, “Who?” “We—We don’t know your highness,” she squeaks back like a terrified mouse, “He hasn’t been identified yet—“

I don’t wait for her to finish her sentence, pushing past them and hurrying towards the soldiers’ quarters as quickly as my feet will allow me. Multiple times, I almost stumble face first down as I skitter down the stairs with my skirts billowing around me, but I keep pushing on despite the fact that I’ve lost my slippers along the way. 

I reach the solders’ quarters breathless, and don’t hesitate to wrench open the door. The chatter ceases instantly, faces whipping around to blink at me. But I don’t care, my eyes quickly searching through the sea of faces for the one that has stolen my heart. 

“Commander Ji,” my voice rises above the crowd, betraying the fear that’s coursing through my veins, “where is commander Ji?” 

A pause. Nobody dares speak, as though shocked into silence. I restrain myself from stomping my foot, my lungs quivering when piping hot anger scorches through my blood like burning hot lava. 

“Your highness?” 

That voice.

I deflate almost instantly. It takes a few seconds for my body to register what my brain has heard. 

Slowly, I turn around. 

There is Changmin, supporting himself against the double doors. He has one of his hands in a sling, a bruised jaw. 

But other than that, he’s alive. Changmin is alive.

At this precise moment, I don’t care about my blood, don’t care about what’s right or wrong. Instead, I fling myself into his arms as an array of gasps echo throughout the room. 

“Your highness!” “And the commander?!” “I thought this was illegal!” “A travesty, surely!” 

Changmin’s lips brush my ear when he murmurs, “not here, your highness.” And then, he’s dragging me out and away from the crowd, down the hallway, and out in the courtyard where there aren’t any prying outside ears or wandering eyes. 

“I thought—I thought you were dead,” my voice broke at the last few words and instantly, Changmin’s arms were holding me in an embrace that felt like heaven. I breathed in his scent; a mixture of pine and mint and what seems to be remnants of the horses’ stables. It’s comforting and warm, it makes me feel safe, and I bury myself closer if that’s even possible.

“I’m here,” he shushes me softly, his lips at my forehead, his good hand gently rubbing my back in comforting circles, “I’m here, I’m okay. We’re okay.” 

“Did you— Are the rogues—“ I swallow back thickly, “gone?” 

“They’re gone, Y/N,” He pecks my forehead chastely, “they’re gone for good. Won’t be coming back so soon.” 

“Thank you,” I find myself blubbering despite the strong facade I had been holding onto just mere seconds ago, and Changmin chuckles softly before bringing his hand up to my face. He brushes aside a stray strand, curling it back behind my ear before meeting my eyes. 

“You’re hurt,” my fingers gently trace over the bruises scattered along his jaw, annoyed that they’d hit such a tender spot, “what happened? You usually never let them get so close.” 

“Oh, they were taunting me,” his face twisted into a scowl at the memory. 

“About what?” 

He paused, bit the inside of his cheek. Then, a soft murmur, “about you.” 

“Me?” 

“They know that I’m…close to you. They knew what my weak spot was.” 

“Changmin,” I huff with a roll of my eyes, “you’re not supposed to let personal matters get between you and your enemies.” 

“I can’t help it,” he pouts so suddenly that it takes me aback, “they can talk shit about me all they want, but not you. Never you.” 

I smile gently before pressing a kiss to his cheek, “thanks, commander Ji.” Despite his strong facade, he blushes right through to the tips of his ears and I can’t help the bubble of laughter from erupting through my chest. 

“No problem, princess.”

[jinkisbelly]

A Simple Request - 11/?

Pairing: Jongyu

Rating: Pg

w/c: 1.8k

Other Parts can be found a little ways down this [x]   Ao3  AFF

Summary: The Fae King is under a lot of pressure to conceive an heir, while given a deadline by the Council he turns to his personal guard and best friend to help him with it  

Warnings: Future mpreg

           Jonghyun is led down twisty alleyways and between homes. The kingdom this late at night is beautiful and quiet, almost like a dream. Faera is never this quiet. With all the different species living within the capital city, there was always music and sound of bustling life even in the dead of night because of those who were nocturnal. He loses his way as he focuses back on Jinki, not that his limited knowledge of the city's layout would help him that much to begin with. Before he knows it, they stop in front of what entirely looks like a dead-end, dark green, and tightly woven vines rising up to where the two buildings on either side of them curve and connect. 

           The question he’s about to ask is forgotten when Jinki looks over his shoulder and beams, so beautiful and free in a way Jonghyun knows he hasn’t done since he stepped over the border into his homeland. There’s a tug on his hand, and then they’re stepping towards the thick vines at the end of the alleyway. Jonghyun knows he should be concerned, should be worried, but all he feels is safety as Jinki’s grip on his hand tightens. He trusts Jinki, more than anything, so it’s not difficult to put his well-being in the man’s hands and follow him through without resistance. Jonghyun still squeezes his eyes shut as they’re about to hit the wall of vines, only to gasp as tingles travel over him, and a cool mist falls onto his skin. There’s a sound of water splashing and soft twinkles, and when he finally opens his eyes again, they are no longer in the middle of a great city.

           There’s a lagoon with a small waterfall trickling into the blue pool. Wisps flutter across the plush, green surface. Some are landing on big pink and red flower petals, while others float to greet them with quiet tinkles and warm impressions. “What is this place?”

           “I made it as a child. This used to be an abandoned fletcher shop.” Even with how absurd such a statement was, Jonghyun could do nothing but believe Jinki. He had seen the man do amazing things, impossible things even. He’s seen him walk through dragon’s fire unharmed and create a flourishing forest on ground completely destroyed by the war. Creating this gorgeous grove as a child was the least of it all. “It was after Saferus hatched for me and my parents ordered Master Wixu to take him from me. Master did so against his wishes. I ran away from my manservant and.. Created this.”

           “It’s beautiful.”

           “Thank you. It’s nice to be back.” Jinki finally released his hand, slowly stepping further into the grove. Jonghyun finds himself missing the strength and warmth of the man’s hand in his own the moment it slips away. Jinki’s fingers run over the flowers as he passes them, each growing a bit more as he continues by them. Each step a flower popped up as he lifted his foot and Jonghyun fondly grinned. This place was so attuned to Jinki and his magic. It reminded him of all the times he watched Jinki meditate, only for the plant life around them to go from finally groomed and trimmed, to almost wild as his magic ran away from him. “I agree with Saferus, that it was his magic that allowed me to do this.”

           “I don’t know,” Jonghyun raised his eyebrows, holding his hands behind his back when Jinki stopped to look back at him. “I’ve seen you do miraculous things. With and without Saferus near.” 

           “A keeper is only as strong as their connection is to their dragon.” Jinki gave a little smile before continuing on his way. He disappeared around the corner of a large rock surface for a long moment. When he appeared again he was pushing a large wooden chest in front of himself. His smile was wicked as he straightened and put his hands on his hips. “I knew I left these somewhere around here.”

           “These?”

           Jinki snapped his fingers and the lock on the chest fell open. When the top was lifted inside blankets and a few throw pillows were visible if only a little old. He picked up the blanket on top, holding it over his loosely crossed arms. “I don’t particularly want to return for a while and I figured comfort would be nice.”

           Jinki wasn’t meeting his gaze and before Jonghyun thinks about it completely, he’s crossing the distance between them and resting his hand on the man’s arm. “We can stay here as long as you wish.” 

           “Thank you.” 

-----

           Every so often Jonghyun would feel the grass against his skin as he shifted, brushing across his foot or hand, and each time it was soft and cool. Now though, he’s on his side warmly gazing across at Jinki’s beautiful profile. The man’s eyes are closed, but there’s a peace to his expression as his chest slowly rises and falls with his even breaths. Jonghyun felt at that moment he could spend forever looking at him and never truly get tired of it. Suddenly there’s a smile curling on his lips, amusement in Jinki’s voice as he asks, “Yes, Jonghyun?” 

           “I apologize.” 

           “Don’t need to,” Slowly Jinki turns, left arm coming up to bend under his head, cheek squishing a little as he settles, “Something on your mind?” 

           “Do you want to talk about it?”

           Jinki slowly raised his eyebrows, “Depends on what ‘it’ is.”

           “How you feel, you know,” Jonghyun lowered his gaze from the other man’s eyes, biting his bottom lip for a moment. “About being here, what happened at dinner, and all that.”

           “Ah, well. I feel a bit abandoned, like the only family I truly have is Saferus.” Jinki’s leg brushed against his as he shifted a bit, but he was still as he spoke again. “To my parents when I chose Saferus I was turning my back on them and my people. That only worsened when I chose to remain in my duties instead of joining them in their fight against Faera and the Fairies. The sentiment is still felt by veterans who fought in that war. I’m not welcome here.

          "Over the years they've reached out with letters, bits of gifts, summons home. At first, I was hurt by what was said during the treaty signing and even as those feelings passed, others filled their void." Jinki let out a deep breath, then another, before speaking again. "They never apologized for their words or how they made me feel since I was just a boy. They told a child to choose between this new destiny and their family, and immediately cut ties with me straight after I made what they believed to be the wrong choice. As silly as it is, I thought I would have made my parents proud with all I've done."

           “To me, you’re wrong about one thing.” 

           “And what’s that?” 

           He finds Jinki’s right hand resting against the blanket between them and gently grips it. “While I have my sister, you’re the closest person in my life. I’d like to think we’re family by now, Jinki.”

           Jinki pulls his hand away, but before the ache of rejection can settle completely in his chest, the man is pushing his fingers into his hair and a kiss is pressed against his forehead. When he speaks his voice is but a whisper, “You’re right.”

           Jonghyun finally looks up when Jinki pulls away just a bit, but the hand remains softly intertwined in his hair. He can’t place the expression on the other man’s face, but whatever it is, it makes him feel safe; immensely cared for. Jinki’s eyes are so warm as a smile slowly forms on his lips, and for a moment Jonghyun could see himself falling in love with a man who has a gaze like that. “Your parents might not be proud of you, and sure, there are some elves who believe their leader’s lies, but there are so many people who love you, who have you to thank for them being alive. You saved so many lives. Hell, you’ve saved mine more than I can count. If it’s worth anything, I am proud of you Jinki, always.” 

           “It’s worth everything.”

           Before Jonghyun knows it, he’s being tugged closer, the back of his head cupped with Jinki’s hand. Immediately he wraps his arm around Jinki’s waist, snuggling closer as if pulled by a string. Jinki rumbles quietly as he shifts to hold him better with both arms, chin on the top of Jonghyun’s head. He knows then he’s never felt as warm or safe as when he’s in Jinki’s embrace, and a part of him doesn’t ever want to leave. When Jinki doesn’t try to pull away, he stays, even as sleep finally tugs at his consciousness and he stops fighting it, letting his eyes close.

-----

           Jinki wakes up extra warm with something soft brushing against the tip of his nose. The scent as he breathes in is familiar and even with his still half-asleep mind, he presses closer, breathing it in deeply. With a rumble deep in his throat, he relaxes again. There’s a slight movement against him and instinctively he tightened his hold. It takes a long moment for him to realize what, or rather who, he’s holding, but that just makes a smile pull on his lips as he finally opens his eyes. 

           He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but from the sun hitting the outside of the vines it’s early morning. There’s a blanket thrown over their intertwined legs. Soon they’d have to head back to prevent a national incident, but that could wait a bit more. Jonghyun was still sleeping and after the past few days, rest was exactly what he needed. If Jinki was honest with himself, he was also a bit selfish. There was something about holding Jonghyun so close that Jinki wanted to cherish. For a few moments, he could pretend he had said those simple words with so much meaning hanging from them, and they had shifted from friends to partners. He knew it could never be, not with their roles and destinies. Even if he ignored all that, there was no way Jonghyun would ever feel the same way about him. 

           Maybe it was a bit depressing the more he thought about it, cherishing little stolen moments such as this. One day Jonghyun would find someone to love as much as he deserved. Whenever they finally had a child together, he would lose all these little moments, so he’d take what he could. His parents taught him never to refuse one's blessings and he wouldn’t start now. Jonghyun wiggling back into his hold broke his thoughts and all he could do was gently chuckle, affection and fondness bursting into his chest.

           Just a few more minutes, that’ll do just fine.

----

[sappheirs]

♛ → THE STORMLANDS present CASIMIR TARTH, the HEIR of TARTH. when the dragons danced in the sky they thought the BLACK would still fly, but in the blink of an eye, they would all die. the TWENTY-FIVE year old MALE who was FREEWHEELING & VEHEMENT before they saw the first of the flames, is now CALLOW & PUGNACIOUS after seeing the last. through the ash, now they struggle to find A SILVER  &  SAPPHIRE PLATED SHIELD THAT SHOULD NOT BELONG TO HIM, �� CHESHIRE CAT GRINS HIDDEN BEHIND HIS SISTER’S SHOULDER,    THE CRISP TASTE OF A PEACH CRUSHED BETWEEN TEETH;   JUICE DRIBBLED DOWN THE FRONT OF HIS TUNIC instead of the remnants of the war of succession. ( thomas doherty )

full  name:   casimir tarth.  nicknames:    cas,   casi.  age:    25.  date  of  birth:    december 3,   115 ac.  orientation:    undiscovered bisexual in training.  religion:    faith of the seven,    mostly just in name at this point.    casimir is known for skipping out on trips to the sept and really only appears when it’s deemed absolutely necessary.  political  affiliation:    baratheon loyalist,    has secret  +  silent opinions about the targaryens sucking.  hair  color:    brown.  hair  length:    generally grown out to just below his ears,    in his natural state it’s shaggy and unkempt.    you can always tell when minisa’s helped him get ready by how his hair looks.  eye  color:    sapphire blue.  height:    6  feet,    4  inches.  father:    bryndenmere tarth. mother:    aemma tarth,    nee estermont    .    deceased.  siblings:    petyr tarth  *  brother,    deceased.    arik storm  *  half - brother,    deceased.    minisa tarth  *  sister.  children:    none,    yet.  significant  other:    none,    yet.  pets:    cider  +  mead,    sibling otterhounds.    rye,    a black forest horse. 

the final trueborn child of the lord and lady of tarth,    casimir,   better known to those around him as cas,   had a torrential childhood.    moments into his life,   his mother passed,   seemingly setting the scene for those he cared for to one by one find their own graves.    what began with his mother carried into his eldest brother,   and then his beloved bastard brother as well   -   casimir knows loss like the back of his hand,    knows that in the blink of an eye what little remains of his family could be gone just like the rest.    he clung to minisa just as much as she did him;    allowed the coddling and kindness,    because at least it was closeness.    at least it was proof he wasn’t alone.    she was,   and continues to be,   his closest confidant;    as he grows closer to inheriting evenfall and the isle of tarth,    cas longs to keep her by his side,    despite knowing that she ought to have a family of her own,    that he himself will need to do the same.    but his chest aches at the thought of another loss,    even if she exists somewhere in the world,    it wouldn’t be the same comfort of having her at his side.    and to be entirely truthful,    he isn’t certain he can rule without her    -    doesn’t believe himself capable of being the lord he’s supposed to be when he knows the role was meant for petyr and not him.

his lows are low    -    fear and guilt tangled into one unfortunate web that lingers in the corner of his mind;    but casimir on a good day is almost whimsical.    full of boisterous laughter and jokes,    blue eyes alight with life and a joy unmatched.    he jests with his father and his men,    hunts and fishes with the best of them and always manages to come back telling a harrowing eventful tale.    he wants to believe in the good of others,    so desperately,   but the fact of his life is that he cannot depend on the kindness of anyone not loyal to the name tarth.    he wishes it wasn’t this way    -    wishes for better things and better days,    where his mother and brothers are smiling and laughing alongside him and not buried beneath the dark soil,    a smattering of blue flowers marking each one.

casimir is fond of animals,    and considers himself the proud owner of the equivalent of a pair of otterhounds named cider  &  mead,    as well as a horse named rye.    he isn’t much for reading,    but is known for his singing    -    though he plays no instrument,    he can often be found providing his voice to the tunes his sister minisa plays.    his favorite song is ‘alysanne’.    

wanted  connections     -    new  additions  not  in  the  group,    i’ll be typing these up officially for the wc section i just needed to splat these ideas down sdflkj. 

casimir’s  best  bro    -   he requires someone to be a himbo with him,    tbh.    maybe someone who was fostered @ evenfall and they kinda just ???  became inseparable and now cas is forever like  NO NO THAT’S MY DUDE RIGHT THE FUCK THERE.    cas is pure and truly sees this pal as a psuedo brother,    would 100% die for him no questions asked u feel me?    makes sense for this dude bro to be from another house in the stormlands or a house that was also aligned with the blacks. 

because i enjoy spice ... casimir’s best bro’s sister.    best friend’s brother from the hit nickelodeon show victorious plays in the bg except it’s his best friend’s sister and boy oh boy is this man w H I P P E D.    he’s well aware that it’s probably never going to happen,    has for the most part,    resigned himself to fawning from afar.   maybe she’s married to someone else,   maybe she’s just not interested    -    either way,   i humbly request and require an unrequited love for this sad,   sad boy. 

wanted  connections    -    for  pre - existing  characters. 

i think it’d be cool for someone to want to take cas under their metaphorical wing;   and i think it could easily go for either a genuine,    loving friendship or someone who just wants to be able to manipulate the future of house tarth and have them under their thumb.    cas is naive enough to allow the latter to happen,    and i think it’d cause some really cool tension for the tarth sibling dynamic. 

characters who,   for whatever reason they so choose,   dislike cas  /  house tarth    -   yes i enjoy angsty bullshit,    no i will not stop trying to ruin his life.    he’s really like,    a dumb golden retriever boy,   and won’t fully understand why someone wouldn’t like him because he’s like:    i’ve never done anything wrong ever?    and would probably try to at least prove his goodness. 

i mean,    eventually he’s probably going to have to be betrothed,    because as a very eligible future lord,    that’s the logical step.    i like to imagine that while casimir is the type to play a little fast and loose with his heart and probably has flings where he proclaims his never ending love and devotion,    he’s also just dedicated and understanding enough of his position that he will do as his father and the storm king decree.      what i’m saying here is    . . .    if you wanna be his lover,    that’s cool,   but he’ll very sadly leave you when his papa tells him to marry someone for reals. 

[johannstutt413]

(requested by anonymous) 

Every king needs an advisor and a physician - one to ensure they do not stray from the path they’ve set for themselves, and at times do what must be done so their liege doesn’t have to, and the other keep them alive so they can stay the course. This is the natural way of things, and for King (well, technically Queen) Theresa, hers were no doubt some of the finest ever granted the position...at least somewhat because they both could fill either role as needed.

Much in the same way either or both kept her delightfully warm on the brisk high-altitude nights aboard her flagship.

Perhaps in another time, or she’d actually been able to claim her throne properly rather than have her usurper of a brother striving to snatch it form her, Theresa would never have consorted with either of them, but it was hard to deny there was a certain symmetry in her life thanks to it. On the one hand, the Doctor - not only a proficient physician, but tactician as well - was a constant delight thanks to a well of eccentricities that persisted despite his rather dour attitude and grave responsibility as her left hand; he wore the weight of his actions like a greatcoat, but Amiya could make him smile...and the King could as well, and a little more, albeit behind closed doors. Dr. Kal’tsit, in contrast, bore the equally-burdensome role of Theresa’s right hand, handling the day-to-day and logistical concerns of their operations as well as managing their secondary goal of eradicating Oripathy, but lacked the stained conscience of her counterpart and therefore visibly enjoyed life more. Not quite to the same degree as the King herself, of course - after all, she made an active effort to be the shining beacon of their organization, because her role as figurehead demanded it and there was no way to repress the light she carried with her - but she could do what the Doctor and Theresa could not, which was be openly affectionate with either of them in public and make it seem natural. It was a wonderful life, being able to share it with both of them, even if the King did wish it was under better circumstances...Still, beggars could not afford to be choosers, and royalty even less so, so she made the best of the hand she’d been dealt and strove to win each little victory as they came their way.

Starting with waking up the pair who’d decided to use her chest as a pillow and thereby made it impossible to leave the bed. “Doctors, it’s morning...Rise and shine, my loves~”

“Five more minutes,” the Doctor grumbled. “The good pillows are on sale.”

“Marshmellows~” Kal’tsit replied before nomming the one in front of her.

One “kyaa~” later, and they were getting dressed for the day, the Feline positively steaming and her counterpart’s smile masked by...well, his mask. Theresa had never understood why he wore a mask in public - his scars were rather spectacular, in her eyes - but apparently he was worried about someone recognizing him from somewhere else? What a mystery.

“The supply team should be back by now,” he noted as he pulled his sleeve over a concealed blade. “I’ll debrief with them before joining you on your rounds, my liege.”

“Likewise, once I’ve seen to Amiya and the urgent cases. Try not to keep us waiting, Doctor.” She winked at him from across the room.

He froze for a moment before shaking his head. “I swear, you’ve weaponized that charm of yours. Your Highness.”

“One moment, Doctor.” The King closed the distance as he went for the door; she lifted his mask for a kiss. “Alright, now you’re released. We’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” His face was wonderfully red as the Doctor repositioned his mask and left to go about his morning errands.

Kal’tsit passed Theresa, still at the door, but spun around to give her a hug before leaving. “He’s almost cute when he’s embarrassed, isn’t he?”

“Almost?” Kiss number two; now she was ready for the day. “Bring Amiya with you today, if she’s not too busy with her Arts lessons. I want to ask her about a drawing she made for me.”

“A drawing? How did she give it to you without my seeing it first?”

The King booped the Feline’s nose. “The little Lupo she talks to, with the red hood?”

“Hmm...Thank you for reminding to check on her as well. I’ll bring both of them with me.” Kal’tsit sighed as she broke off the embrace. “You have a check-up at 1030; I’ll see you then, if not earlier.”

“Until then, dearest~” She waved as Kal’tsit left before turning back to the bedroom...She kind of needed to finish dressing herself.

Most days, Theresa left their room by herself and spent an hour or so roaming the halls. She might check in with Closure on the process of renovating their vessel, which they’d started but hadn’t been able to finish before it took to the skies out of necessity; she might make conversation with an Operator or two if she passed them in the hall, asking about their plans for the day or a lightly philisophical discussion to help her mental gearworks spin up for the day’s diplomacy and politicking; on a particularly light day, she might even have time to see the children in class and get a read on how far along they were in their education. This morning, however, the halls were oddly quiet, and so the King was left alone with her thoughts. ‘I wonder if they know yet?’ She pondered, a sad smile on her face. ‘They must, at least on some level, but do they fully understand what it means for me? For them? I hope they learn sooner rather than later...It will be easier on them that way.’

“Your Highness?” A small Cautus with soft blue eyes barely visible behind her bangs was lightly tugging on her shirt. “Are you okay? You look blue.”

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Amiya. I’m okay, little rabbit; simply thinking about the future.” The King squatted so she could be closer to eye level with Rhodes Island’s heir apparent.

Amiya nodded. “Okay. Did you like my drawing?”

“I did. It was very colorful.” Theresa moved the Cautus’ bangs aside. “You drew the Doctors as blue in your picture, and you drew me in black. Do you remember why?”

“Um...Not really. Sorry, your Highness.”

She simply smiled and patted Amiya’s head. “It’s alright, little rabbit. Did you see Dr. Kal’tsit already?”

“She said I’m doing good, so I could walk with you today!” The end of the serious conversation clearly made her happier. “Oh, and she said to tell you to eat breakfast, if you haven’t.”

“She knows me so well...Have you eaten yet?”

The Cautus shook her head. “Not yet. I have to wait for my medicine to stop bubbling first.”

“Then we can wait for it to stop in the cafeteria together.” The Queen offered Amiya her hand. “Shall we?”

“Okay!” She took her hand, and they walked to the cafeteria, talking about everything and nothing as you do with the little ones.

It was the sort of thing Theresa was sure she’d miss when she died, but she had a little time left...just a little.

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

“So that’s the sort of person she was,” the Doctor sighed, lying in bed. “The kind that made the world a better place just by existing. And they say I had a hand in her death?”

“That’s what I’ve heard, and what W believes more than anything,” Kal’tsit replied from the bathroom a short distance away.

He set aside the book he’d taken out; tonight wasn’t the night to finish it. “It makes sense why she was so mad at me when we first met, at least...Did she ever talk about what would happen when she took back the throne?”

“Never in concrete terms, like she did with most things.” The Feline stared at her reflection for a moment. “She knew long before any of us what would happen to her, but she couldn’t tell us without destroying the foundation we laid for the true successor.”

“Amiya?”

She nodded. “Amiya. The things I’ve heard all these years make sense now, in a way they wouldn’t have without...without...” She blinked the tears back.

“If you need to cry, Kally, don’t stop yourself on my behalf.” The Doctor felt a little misty-eyed himself, although he wasn’t completely sure why. “It never gets easier, does it?”

“Some of them do, but not hers. What was it that tipped you off in the end, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He cocked his head. “You mean what told me we were a couple before I lost my memories?”

“Exactly.” Kal’tsit turned off the light as she turned around, standing in the threshold but looking at the Doctor head-on. “I can’t think of a single thing that would’ve tipped you off, but almost from the first day you seemed to think of us that way.”

“Honestly? I knew from the moment I looked you in the eye for the first time; there was something about your eyes, the way they shone for the briefest instant before flatlining, that told me everything I needed to know. It took some time for me to act on that intuition, since things have been so hectic, but...you look beautiful tonight.”

Something the old Doctor had never felt he needed to say, but hit home nonetheless. “Thank you. I don’t know what to expect from thi- from us anymore.”

“Neither do I.” The Doctor’s hand slid back and forth in the empty space next to him. “If this doesn’t work out the way you want it to, tell me. I won’t be offended.”

“I know you won’t.” ‘He wouldn’t have either,’ she noted to herself as she flipped off the lights and sat next to him.

For a little less than a minute, they stayed like that; on instinct, however, he found her hand in the dark and grasped it, and a flood of emotion washed over them both. Neither of them understood it fully, but it was enough to assure them that, at least at some point, they had understood each other very well, and that time could make up for some of what they’d lost, even if it would never fully repair the divide. Kal’tsit leaned against him, crying into his shoulder, and the Doctor held her as if he’d spent his entire life doing just that.

From the other side of the wall, a much older blue-eyed Cautus wiped a tear from her eye as she felt the emotional hurricane rock her family - at least, what was left of them. Did she have the strength to see this through? Was she really the sort of person that could be a king, but before even that, a kingslayer? Her eyes drifted to the drawing she’d found in her belongings the other day while cleaning, two blue figures on either side of a black one...and a smaller, bright yellow one with a pair of long lines coming out of their head. Maybe that younger Amiya had already known what she’d have to become, what she was destined for. In some small way, the thought gave her hope.

What gave her even more hope, though, was the reunion going on in the next room, and the mending of a bond she’d never thought severable.  Later that night, maybe she’d knock on the door and see what they’d do if she told them she’d had a bad dream...Time surely did strange things to them all, didn’t it?

[siswritesyanderes]

ooh! now that you've begun in dabbling in some s p i c i e r stuff (love it!!!) what would you think about Tom finding a familiar soul in the orphanage, if you want to make it real spicy, sister perhaps (continuing the habit of inbreeding in the family without conditioning; nice!) and him deciding that it would be only right, even though his sister is not a slytherin, to make her rule by his side- j-just to keep him in line, and continue the great line of slytherin! love your work :)))

Okay. Let’s do this. Ooh boy.

(N S F W) (TW: non-con) (TW: incest)

She was like him. She was, in fact, the only one like him in the entire world. It had seemed so, at least, when they were children.

She didn’t have his harsh temperament, or his impatience, but she had the same unsettlingly intelligent gaze and, most importantly, she could do the same sorts of things that he could. She made things move (most usually, books to her hand, especially if one of the other orphans had tried to take said book from her), she had made her hair grow back when a bully had cut it off (but not before Tom punished the other child for the mistake), and she could talk to snakes.

Even apart from her powers, they were very alike. They were quiet, and didn’t socialize much, and had a tendency to scowl. They spent all of their time together, and so that had developed rather identical mannerisms and turns of phrase.

It was tact that made her different; for some reason he could not hope to understand, his twin sister thought it worth placating the matrons and their fellow orphans. (Certainly, her social skills persuaded the caretakers to see his side of things more often than they would if he spoke to them, but still he found such diplomacy monotonous.) She spoke sparingly to the snakes, and only when he was already speaking to them, on the grounds that it was “rude” to do things that they knew made the others uncomfortable. She did not snap at anyone, or use her power to make them hurt; she ignored people who annoyed her and allowed Tom to handle people who provoked her.

“I’m glad for your temper sometimes,” she mused once when Tom returned, cool-faced, from scaring off a boy who had thrown a frog at her. “I don’t think you should always make a habit of it, though.”

“Habits are for people with dull minds,” he replied, returning to the book he had been reading.

When Professor Dumbledore came to tell them that they were magic and would be going to a place called Hogwarts, she let her brother do all of the talking; all of the asking and bragging (and, when the man set their wardrobe on fire, protesting). In the meantime, she observed from the social cues that Tom and the professor were developing a clear mutual dislike (as subtle as they both were about it) and considered the ways in which she could serve as damage control; it wouldn’t do for her brother to antagonize someone with power over them, as he had done with the matrons here.

The only time she spoke up was after Dumbledore gave them their allowance for school supplies, at which point she asked, “Are Galleons pure gold, sir?”

“Yes, Miss Riddle, they are,” the man answered.

“How many pounds to a Galleon?”

The professor told her.

She nodded, privately supposing that they could exploit the exchange rate of gold to pounds and pounds to Galleons and increase their money seemingly forever. She would tell Tom about it tomorrow.

That night, as Tom lay in bed with the day’s revelations running through him and his sister likewise resting on her side of the room, he whispered into the dark about how they would be running this new wizarding world before they were done. She didn’t answer, so he couldn’t be sure whether she believed him, but it didn’t matter; it was true. He would excel, because it was in his nature, and she would be with him because she was supposed to be.

At Hogwarts, they were sorted into Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Tom detested the separation, detested that they wouldn’t be sleeping in the same room, and he detested it more in the following weeks and months, as she came to make friends in her House. He had earned his housemates’ respect, through his own power and intelligence and aided on by the priciness of his possessions (thanks to his sister’s savvy Galleon exchanges), but it always soured his mood when he saw her laughing at the Ravenclaw table with some Other Person.

She knew him, though, well enough to make a point of giving him the most of her time, including leaving her friends straightaway, even mid-conversation, if he called her to be with him. It was out of respect for her that he allowed her these diversions, instead of scaring them away, but it was imperative that she show him that he took priority.

“You’re quite jealous,” she remarked in third year, while they were walking the grounds together without his followers. He had learned that she did not enjoy being near his followers and would spend longer times with him if they weren’t around. “It’s a sign of insecurity, you know.”

He ignored her attempt at starting a pointless argument. “I didn’t find anything using our father’s surname. I think our middle names must be the clue; ‘Marvolo’ and ‘Merope’ sound just like wizarding names, don’t they?”

“They do,” she agreed. “Thank you for keeping me updated on your search, though I wish you weren’t in Slytherin; almost none of the other Ravenclaws care about blood status. They don’t care if we’re Muggle-borns.”

“We’re not Muggle-borns,” he snapped, and was rewarded for his terseness with silence from her. His followers had come to uncomfortably ignore his heritage (or lack thereof) because he was frightening, cunning, and clever (and because his having grown in an orphanage with no knowledge of his parents allowed them to pretend that his parents could be purebloods), but there were only so few of them, because so many of his peers in Slytherin couldn’t get past his lack of a respectable name. No one provoked him, but he wanted them all to worship him.

And his sister, too.

When he found out that they were Slytherin’s heirs, he was sixteen, sitting at a table in the library by himself, poring over records. He checked over his readings several times before the feeling of vindication came over him.

He didn’t tell his sister about his findings until he had discovered the entrance to their Chamber, a month later; then, he dragged her out of the Great Hall (in the middle of a chess game with the “friend” he detested the most; that boy who she always seemed to be talking to and joking with) and into the girl’s bathroom, breathlessly saying, “Tell it to open.”

Flummoxed, it took her two tries to manage Parseltongue, but soon enough they were sliding down into the underbelly of the school, into their birthright.

As they wandered, with their wands lit, through the stone corridors, Tom felt the most alone with his sister he had in a while; it was like they were in their own world that no one else could access. Sealed away. She couldn’t talk to other friends here, nor had he any followers for her to take exception to. It was just them, and their destiny, and it was glorious.

He felt intoxicated by their aloneness, and wondered if this was how things had felt in the womb.

Their Chamber, their womb, their rebirth as heirs.

She seemed less pleased by the development; she kept murmuring, “I’ve read about this,” either to herself or to him.

“Relax,” he drawled. “This is our Chamber; nothing can happen to us here.”

“The stories say there’s a creature in the Chamber of Secrets, Tom. Some sort of monster.”

“A creature meant to serve the heirs of Slytherin; that’s what we’re looking for.”

“I don’t want to find it.” She turned to go back the way they’d come, but he grabbed her arm.

“Don’t go back. Aren’t you supposed to thank me for keeping you updated?”

She shook her arm from his grip. “Keeping me updated is telling me your findings, not tricking me into a dungeon full of snake skins. I can only think of the sort of monster that would leave these behind.”

“A snake, perhaps?”

“You’re not funny.”

Unexpectedly, her dry response awoke a rage he hadn’t noticed brewing inside himself. “No, that honor is reserved for Wilbur Cadwallader, isn’t it?” 

The memories were rising, unbidden, to the surface, now; all the times he had looked up from his plate because the sound of her laugh was audible to him even in the Great Hall. All the times he had approached her in the Transfiguration Courtyard for no other reason than because watching her converse with Cadwallader and that ditzy redhead friend of hers made him want to chew glass. That one night, fifth year, when she had spent her prefect rounds walking with Cadwallader instead of him.

“Don’t use your envy to deflect. I want no part of-” 

“Envy?” he repeated, very quietly. His sister was smart; she knew the difference between jealousy– the fear of losing what one owns –and envy– the desire for what someone else owns. She was too smart to use them interchangeably, which meant that she had chosen the word “envy” intentionally.

She recognized, also, his danger signs, and it was clear from her expression that she understood his change in tone, yet she carried on, “I want no part of Slytherin’s legacy.”

“I didn’t ask what you wanted a part of,” Tom said, still speaking very quietly. He noticed, suddenly, that he had grown much taller than her, in the past few years. “We are Slytherin’s heirs, and we are fated for greatness. It falls on us to restore the noble house of-”

“I’m a Ravenclaw,” she cut in coolly. “And anyway, I won’t be carrying the name of the family, in case you’ve forgotten; you will. Restore to your heart’s content. I want no part in it.” She tried, again, to walk away, but again he caught her arm, this time not releasing it. 

“You’ll be restoring it with me, because we’re supposed to do it together. We balance each other; we always have. I’m going to rule this world, and you will be at my side if I have to…” Her suddenly sharp look caused him to trail off, as only she could.

She stormed away, and he fumed in place but allowed her to leave because if they continued to anger each other, he would probably hurt her, and he did not want to do that.

They did not speak to each other for a time after that, though he glared at her whenever she was in his line of sight and she made a point not to look his way. In the meantime, he opened the Chamber of Secrets, left messages on the school walls in rooster blood proclaiming the return of the heirs of Slytherin, and killed a mudblood from her house.

It was after this that she stalked up to him in the school library, her eyes fascinatingly red-rimmed and her expression furious. “They are going to close Hogwarts.”

He found it interesting how, even though he had spent so long enraged that she was ignoring him, seeing her so upset still made him want to alleviate her unhappiness. He ignored this feeling, though, and maintained a dry tone as he replied, “Don’t worry; I’ve made arrangements for the culprit to be brought to justice.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve said not to worry about it.” He watched her as she seemed to decide whether or not to leave him now. It was so weird to him that she saw herself as an individual. It was so obvious that she belonged to him; she was his sister, and they were Slytherin’s heirs, a deteriorated bloodline in need of strengthening. In need of purifying. “You haven’t met the basilisk,” he said, suddenly desperate to get her back into the Chamber.

“There’s a basilisk?” she said indifferently.

“Our basilisk. You should meet her.”

“Why would I want to meet a basilisk, Thomas?”

“You haven’t spoken to her.”

“No, but I’ve heard her, in the pipes. She doesn’t sound a dazzling conversationalist.”

“Come with me.” Somewhere in the building, Rubeus Hagrid was in the headmaster’s office, trying to explain away his illegal acromantula even though the poor thing had been doomed the moment he walked into this school as a half-giant. Tom could only imagine how wonderful it would feel to have a second victory today.

“You’re plotting something,” his sister accused.

“How astute.”

She rolled her eyes, in a clear, if reluctant, concession. “If it’s something stupid, I will leave.”

He took her down to the Chamber for a second time, adamant that she would not leave, even if she wanted to. He led her down a few corridors, rather than to the stone atrium he usually visited. There was a large pile of snake skins in this hallway, more commodious than the trails of snake skins littered throughout, that would be perfect for his purposes, and he hoped to put them to use.

“Last time you were here, I told you that we would rule together,” he said.

“So you did,” his sister answered, almost boredly. “I don’t suppose you’ve lost your enchantment with that idea?”

He licked his lips. She was walking ahead of him, as there were no forks in the corridor for him to guide her through. She wasn’t looking his way, but rather watching the ceiling as she went, as though intrigued by the idea of the whole of Hogwarts being above them.

Always walking ahead when she should have been walking by his side.

Tom pulled out his wand silently. The hex that he sent her way would have cleanly and entirely disabled her for at least the next ten minutes, but the sudden light that the spell provided had alerted her to his intentions, and she had spun hastily out of the way, removing her own wand from her pocket as she did so; he should have taken that from her before doing anything else. No matter.

What followed was a short duel, with extremely impressive spellwork all around. They were evenly matched, and he didn’t say that lightly; few ever matched him. But it came down to who wanted victory more, and her wariness of him did not exceed his desire for her.

Soon enough, she was crumpled on the ground, groaning and scarcely able to move. He lifted her into his arms and walked her to the chosen pile of snake skins. They weren’t exactly soft, but they had enough give to them that they were easily preferable to the stone floor. He set her down on them and climbed atop her. 

Her eyes were nearly closed, but not quite, and they still followed his movement, which meant that she was conscious. Good.

“We’ve always kept each other in balance,” he said calmly, while keeping his wand leveled on her torso, working nonverbal magic to unfasten her robes. “No one of us could rule nearly as well without the other.”

Her gaze left him, instead peering at the far wall. He suspected she was looking for her wand, which had rolled down the corridor, but she wasn’t strong enough to move her head.

She should have been looking at him.

Her robes fell away, and his eyes feasted on her bareness. He had not seen so much of her in years.

She managed to growl at him, but only weakly.

“I let you have five years with those friends of yours,” he said softly. “I was generous, wasn’t I? I let you laugh and pretend with those idiots?”

She shut her eyes, because of course she knew exactly what would annoy him more than looking away from him.

He cast a mild stinging jinx to make her open them again, while at the same time removing her undergarments. “Watch me,” he hissed. “Watch me touch you.”

She watched, but only because he would keep stinging her if she didn’t.

He kissed her lips, then advanced his tongue into her mouth, and then moaned loudly, just so that she would have to know that she was giving him pleasure, no matter how much she hated it. She was naked under him, naked on a pile of snake skins in their Chamber of Secrets. He loosened his necktie, then his belt.

“We have the greatest magical lineage in the world, and it will be because of us that it continues,” he said.

“I will hurt you for this,” she told him, in Parseltongue because it was the only language she could manage in this state.

He thumbed licentiously at one of her nipples. “Maybe,” he allowed. “But I’d be careful making threats like that.” He pointed his wand at the middle of her head. “Maybe you’ll be better at carrying my babies if you don’t remember you’re doing it, hmm?”

She tried to keep glaring at him, but her bottom lip trembled, and she ended up closing her eyes again.

“Look at me,” he ordered, not stinging her this time.

She opened her eyes, and they were damp and scornful.

He kissed her lips again, more softly, and eased his trousers and pants down his waist. “Just think of how powerful we will be together,” he whispered, with the same awed tone he had once used to whisper to her at bedtime, when they’d shared a room at the orphanage.

(He’d been furious with Mrs. Cole when she’d made them move to separate rooms on account of his sister’s first menstrual cycle. Muggles always ruining things, always asserting themselves where they didn’t belong.)

“Ours will be the only bloodline that matters,” he breathed. “None of those so-called purebloods will dare say their family name in our presence. We will be royalty together.”

She was trying to move her arm, still trying to resist, but she was too weak. She would come around once she had to; she couldn’t stay mad at him once he had started making good on these promises.

He eased her legs apart and thrust himself inside of her. Her resulting moan rang through the stone halls, far from anyone who could dare to steal the symphony; it was just for him. Cadwallader certainly couldn’t hear her, couldn’t feel…Ohhh, Merlin. The contact, the perfect joining of two halves, was almost enough to make him release straightaway, but he knew that there was more, so he kept thrusting.

She listened to his hitches of breath and tried not to give him anything to listen to in return, though it was impossible not to make a sound. He was her first, but she would never tell him. She would go to the grave pretending that there was someone else before him.

Was she his first? Almost definitely.

This was so sick.

She thought that she wanted nothing more than for him to be done, but then when he finished inside her, it was a new kind of horrifying. Feeling him empty a load of horrors into her body, where they couldn’t be reached, all while making such enraptured sounds…They hadn’t taken contraceptive potions before the fact; she didn’t even know how to brew or access any, nor how to find out about them without destroying her reputation. And that was all counting on the assumption that Tom had only been trying to scare her, when he’d implied that he might erase her memory of this whole incident.

That thought sickened her the most, made her truly distraught, the idea that he might do all of this to her, wring pleasure from her helpless and unwilling body, and then she might be civil with him tomorrow regardless.

Himself, Tom intended to make full use of this night. His followers would cover for him if anyone inquired after his presence, and he would not be satisfied with exploring his sister’s potential only once.

He smiled. Upstairs, the whole issue of the dead mudblood was being squared away, with him scot free and even likely to receive an award for his heroism, and down here, he had finally achieved the correct amount of closeness with his sister.

He pulled out only once he was sure that none of his seed would be wasted. It actually wouldn’t be terribly convenient for her if she became pregnant while still in school, but it would increase her dependence on him, and she wouldn’t be foolish enough to name him as the child’s father (especially if he decided to make her forget that he was), so he could safely consider it a non-risk for himself.

He stared at her. Covered in sweat, even though she hadn’t been moving. Eyes closed, but he didn’t feel like bothering her over it now, when his mood was so good.

She probably considered it rude that he was allowed to keep his shirt and necktie on while she was completely bare; he rectified the problem, taking care to drape his clothes over the snake skins instead of on the dusty floor. He liked it better this way, at any rate; only skin against skin.

Clearing his throat to make her open her eyes, he pleasantly announced, “We’re going to go again, okay?”

Her gaze was positively gelid, but she didn’t growl, which he took as assent.

[pls-let-me-out]

Invisible String

21st of December

“Do you not like my friends?” 

Will almost jumped out of his skin. Niccolò was standing just a couple of feet from him, with his hands in his pockets, and a scowl on his face. He was wearing Will’s–it was actually Niccolò’s, but Will had always worn it–scarf, and a black beanie.

Will’s lips tightened. What could he say? He did like them. They were fun to be around, and had a great sense of humor. Plus, seeing them tease Niccolò was entertaining.

“It’s not that,” Will settled for. “It’s–I don’t know.”

“You do know,” Niccolò said. “Just–nothing. We should go. Seen anything you like?”

Will shook his head. They were looking for a Christmas tree, apparently they would be shooting a little video for a Royal Family thing. When Niccolò was explaining it, Will was too busy being scared to death to listen thoroughly.

“Wait!” Will called, when Niccolò was already at the end of that tree aisles. Niccolò looked back at him with a frown, which had Will’s fingertips tickle with the need to smooth it out. “Can we get hot chocolate before we head out?”

Niccolò rolled his eyes. He didn’t say no.

 “What do you mean presents?” Niccolò asked, his face turning into an even more prominent scowl. “We don’t need to get each other gifts.”

“I’m not spending money for this dumbass,” Will said, taking the cup from Niccolò’s hands to take a sip. He was immediately kicked in the shin by Niccolò, but the biggest punishment was the taste of that thing inside. “Is this death? Am I tasting death?”

“It’s coffee, you genius,” Niccolò said, taking the mug back. “Sorry I’m an adult and don’t put milk in it.”

Will just grimaced. “I see why you’re so bitter. You’re poisoning yourself.”

Niccolò opened his mouth, but Piper interrupted them before he could talk, hitting the wooden table. She sighed, exasperation clear on her face. As clear as the fact that the gifts exchanging wasn’t her and Annabeth’s idea, probably Persephone’s. Maybe even Hazel’s.

“What Annabeth and I are trying to say, is that it’s only normal you two exchange gifts. You will spend Christmas together, won’t you?”

Will turned to Niccolò. “My time and company are going to be your present.”

“Hope you kept the receipt.”

Annabeth rubbed her temples. “Guys.”

“Honestly, if you want us to have gifts so much, you should just buy them for us,” Niccolò said, looking smug in his chair. “Then we’ll give them to each other. We’d be even more surprised!”

Will sighed. “Don’t be rude, you ass. I honestly haven’t even changed my money to euros.” He grimaced. “I guess I’ve been kind of leeching off of you.”

Niccolò shrugged. “It’s my fault you’re here in the first place.”

Annabeth clasped her hands together. “Then what’s better than using the Royal Family’s money to buy each other gifts?”

“Not buying each other gifts,” Niccolò said.

“Donating the money to charity.”

Niccolò nodded, very vaguely waving his hand toward Will. “Yeah, that, too.”

“I honestly don’t even know what I could buy you,” Will said, putting his elbow on the table and his chin on his fist. “What could you possibly want? You’re already rich.”

“I’d like McDonald’s. I haven’t had it in so long.”

“We can arrange that.”

“I’m not sure there are any McDonald’s around.”

Will grimaced. “Isn’t this city a nightmare?”

“I’m not even replying to that,” Annabeth said. “C’mon guys. You’ll have to put something on social network sooner or later, it could be the two of you opening gifts. People want to see you.”

“People can see me on Google Image,” Niccolò replied. “Seriously. It’s none of their business what we’re doing.”

“You are a public figure, Nico.”

“Also,” Piper continued. “As you know there’s always been speculation about your sexuality. People are wondering whether you and this soulmate of yours will be lovers or platonic.”

“And I’m sure they’d love it,” Niccolò said.

Will couldn’t help a grimace. Up until a few decades back, courtship between two soulmates of the same sex wasn’t accepted. Will hadn’t even thought it would be an option for them. Niccolò was a prince, didn’t he need to have heirs or something?

Fuck. It only made things more complicated. Will knew himself, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop wondering, if there was even a sliver of hope for the two of them. He buried that hope thinking about his parents.

“I’m sure they’d love to see me with a boy, wouldn’t they.”

Will’s eyes snapped back up at Niccolò, and it hit him like a bucket of cold water. He had forgotten how cold the other’s face could turn. How his voice could become blank. How distant he became.

“They’d love to see me bonding with a man, wouldn’t they?” Niccolò asked, as if he the words were clawing out of his throat.

I’m bisexual! Will wanted to scream. I’m bisexual so stop saying shit like that, like it’s disgusting. He wanted to say it, instead he just pushed the chair back, and stood. What was he expecting from someone who had lived his whole life in a palace? It was only a given that Niccolò would be homophobic. In times like this, Will’s life reminded him of a staged joke.

“It’s just gifts,” he said. His voice was steadier than he thought it would be. “Let’s just take a scarf each and be done with it.”

“It would be different. You’d be soulmates,” he heard Piper say, but he was already leaving the room. He could feel eyes boring holes in his back.

 Before letting them use the sleigh, Piper took at least a hundred photo. Most of them had either Nico or Will with an indignant expression on their face, as the other talked passionately. Ten minutes later, and Nico couldn’t remember what they had been bickering about.

He was half hunched over his sleigh, the cold wind in his face, on the path ahead he could see both Will and the instructor. He could see them, when his eyes weren’t forced closed by the pain in his knee.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever done,” Will said later, when they were sitting on the panoramic spot, feet dangling over the edge. A smile was spitting his face open, darkness had already began falling. He was dressed in a bright orange suit, so that the instructor wouldn’t lose him on the track. Nico had little to laugh about, since he himself was in green. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Nico managed a grimace. The huskies were panting, just a few meters away. The instructor had disappeared back into the hotel, soon Will and Nico would have to get going.

“Kayla would have loved this,” Will said, his voice softer.

Nico knew those eyes. They were the same he had in every photo with Bianca and Hazel, that love struck gaze brothers wore only when they were talking of a sister. So Nico asked about it, heart hammering in his chest. “Your sister?”

Will nodded. He never talked about his family, or at least not with Nico. He should have been a fool not to notice the strange atmosphere and gazes exchanged between Will and Piper. A part of him wondered if Will was falling for Piper. He wouldn’t be the first to do so.

“Yeah, the oldest. Kayla Knowles.” He shrugged, and took a deep breath. “Don’t you think it’s crazy, how we’ve lived alone for days, yet not talked about anything of our lives? Do we–do we actually know each other?”

Nico tightened his lips. It was not the time to talk about the mess they’d made, pain shot through his knee. “I don’t think we do.”

Will nodded. “Yeah. I thought so.”

For a moment, less than a second, Nico wished Will had fought him. He put his hands under his thighs, to avoid doing stupid things, like poking the mole under Will’s left eye, and bicker like only they did.

“This is the part where you start telling me things about yourself,” Will said. He put his chin on his bent knee, giving Nico a sidelong glance.

“Oh. Uh. Elysium. That’s my kingdom’s name. Ancient Greeks believed it was part of the Underworld, for a time. Black flowers grew on the shorelines, and it was so hard to reach them. Too many storms. I thought it was Elysium too, when I was little.”

“Isn’t your father also called Hades?”

Nico grinned. “Grandfather thought he was so funny, when he chose his sons’ names.” He cleared his throat, embarrassment darkening his cheeks even more when silence stretched. “Isn’t it your turn now?”

Nico thought Will mock him, at least a little. ‘Maybe I should tell you the story behind Texas’. Will didn’t, as if he understood how personal Elysium was to Nico, what a great thing it was to admit that, for a time, he’d been foolish enough to want the throne.

Will took a deep breath, his knuckles turned white where he was holding the railing. “I have eight siblings. Lee, Michael, Austin, Kayla, Jerry, Gracie, Yan and Victoria. Lee and Michael were older than me. Now I’m the oldest.” He sniffled, bringing his gloved hand to his nose. “When they–we didn’t live together. We saw each other during holidays, birthdays sometimes. The first year after Michael and Lee died, I didn’t know how to be the oldest. It’s different, you know? I always had them, and they were before me. If the youngers needed something, something clever, they went to them. I couldn’t bring myself to see the others, after the two of them died. I didn’t–I didn’t have anyone to go to.”

The breath was knocked out of Nico’s lungs.

Will chuckled. “I guess I overshared a bit. Sorry.”

“You didn’t,” Nico blurted, so fast Will whipped his head around. He cleared his throat, spoke with far more calm. “You didn’t overshare.”

“You sound pretty put out.”

“I was just thinking about what I wanted people to tell me, after I lost Bianca.” He tasted bitterness on his tongue, so heavy it laced through his words. “I can’t remember.”

“I don’t want you to tell me anything.”

“Yeah. Neither did I.”

Will put his head on Nico’s shoulder. His hat was cold, a bit wet with snow, his breath warm, even through all the layers. Nico leaned against him.

 The others were waiting for them inside the hotel. Piper and Leo had managed to convince Jason to stay one more night, to sleep in an igloo room together. Nico had half a mind they would try seducing him. Percy and Annabeth would go to Paris, Annabeth wanted to see Notre Dame. She had never seen it in person. Nico recommended her to see the Dome of Sacré Coeur Basilica first.

“You were talking about Paris?” Will asked, sliding down next to Nico with a cup of hot chocolate in his hands.

Nico ignored that it’d been a gift from the instructor. Only for Will. With Nico standing right next to them. It seemed impossible for Will to go anywhere without having someone fall for him. It had to be the curls. Or the freckles. Maybe the eyes, always so bright and beautiful.

Nico shook his head, to get himself out of the trance.

“-there a couple of times, with my family,” Will admitted, nodding his head. He took the cup to his mouth, and grimaced at the first sip.

“Did the Hot Instructor poison you?” Nico asked. He knew it wasn’t possible, but at least then they’d have a good reason to send him to jail. Or at least never seen him again. He wasn’t so petty after all.

Will huffed. “It’s too hot.” A glint lit his eyes, as he looked at Nico through a thick layer of eyelashes. “Just like the instructor.”

Nico scoffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah, if you’re into bulky men that spend their days riding towards the sunset with huskies.”

Percy snorted. “Who isn’t into that?”

Nico bit his cheek. Annabeth caught his eyes, cocking an eyebrow. Nico sunk lower into his chair, tightening his grasp on the cup holder. Nico didn’t need to look at Will to recognize the mirth in his eyes.

“Anyway,” Leo said. “Before omo celoso here interrupted us, we were listening to a story.”

“You should really stop treating people’s lives like they exist for your entertainment,” Jason told him. Piper giggled, and Leo sent him a wink. Jason’s whole face turned as red as a tomato. Nico imprinted the memory into his head, just in case he ever needed to have something to tease Jason about.

“I was telling them about the time I went to Paris,” Will said. He grimaced. “We were on the Eiffel Tower when my Father’s girlfriend discovered he was cheating on her.”

“With whom?” Leo asked, eagerly leaning on the table.

Will and Piper both burst out laughing. “Well,” Will said, clicking his tongue. “I was eleven at the time. My parents, uh, they divorced when I was eight.”

“Just a quick note,” Piper said. “His oldest half-brother is two years younger than him.”

“Thanks,” Will said. He fixed his eyes on Nico, before dropping to the table. “Very helpful. Uh. So, we were on the Eiffel Tower, and my father’s girlfriend sees him passing the waitress his number. She goes absolutely mad, and she was right, really. My father’s a really lewd man. So she gets his phone, calls a cab for herself and orders a flight back to California. She finds the messages he had exchanged with his lovers.”

“God, that’s so disgusting,” Annabeth said.

“That’s not the worst he’s done,” Piper replied.

“Wait, how do you even know?” Percy asked her.

Piper sent Will a panicked glance, and he cleared his throat. “We were neighbors. Kind of.”

“Oh my God, isn’t that so cute?” Jason exclaimed, his eyes on Nico. As if he knew Nico was storing teasing material. As if this was his revenge. They knew each other well enough for it to be possible. “You two would have met through Piper!”

“So no one’s going to talk about the fact that we discovered it now?” Percy asked. He was ignored.

“I can’t believe we’ve been robbed of the chance of introducing them to each other!” Leo wailed loudly, gathering the attention of the other costumers. “We’d’ve held it over Nico’s head for the rest of our lives.”

“Holding something over my head?” Nico scoffed. “With your height?”

Leo hit him in the shins from under the table, making him hiss. He sent the hit right back, but hit the table.

“Jealousy’s taking your aim away, hombre,” Leo commented.

He was lucky Will’s attention was on Annabeth, or Nico would have used him to replace the table leg.

“I’m absolutely not jealous,” Nico hissed, trying to hit Leo again. He hit the table instead, a jolt of pain shot through his leg.

“You know, just because you’re prince doesn’t mean you can destroy the furniture,” Will chirped with a sickeningly sweet smile, using napkins to rub the spilled chocolate. “By the way, you now owe me a free chocolate.”

“You lost two sips at most.” Nico took a long sip of his coffee, the bitterness heaving on his words, not only his tongue. “If you want another, go back to flirting with the instructor.”

Will leaned closer, batting his eyelashes with a coy smile. “Maybe I’d rather flirt with you for another.”

Nico shoved him by the shoulder, a grin stretching on his lips. “Fuck off.”

They both laughed.

 Will fell on the sofa next to Niccolò with a loud sigh. Before turning the TV on, he complained about his tiredness, his old age, the weather.. Niccolò didn’t say a single word, but his eyes were

“The house is silent again,” he said.

“Yeah.” Niccolò cleared his throat, looking away. He crossed his legs, looking like he didn’t know how to act now that they were alone. They would be for a few more days, so he’d better get used back to it. It was unnerving Will.

“I’d gotten used to having them around. Have you always been so close to your cousins?”

Niccolò grunted. “I wouldn’t say we’re close, even now.”

“You look like it.”

“Maybe we are.” He stayed silent long enough for Will to think he wouldn’t add anything. “With–with Jason. It’s more complicated with Percy. I’ve seen him much more than Jason, and we–I had–” He cleared his throat, but his hands were shaking, and Will wanted to wrap his own fingers around Niccolò’s. He knew the other wouldn’t like it, though. “He was already around when Bianca died. So. I took him out on him.” He passed a hand through his hair. It wasn’t very long, less than an inch, what with being cut short in the military.

“He looks at you like you are his little brother, though.”

“I hated it back then.” He nodded toward the television, before Will could do as much as thinking about asking more. “So, why are you on YouTube again?”

“I just realized I never got around to watching your eleven awkward moments.”

Niccolò groaned.

 Niccolò was around fifteen years old. He held a scepter, or what looked like it. People all around were looking at him, cameras going off. He kept looking around, never keeping his eyes on something a second too long. Then, he mouthed at the King, and his words had been written as subtitles:

What was I supposed to do now?

 The MC smiled at Niccolò. Niccolò nodded and smiled. Hazel talked, the MC responded. Niccolò looked at the crowd. Cheers and screams grew louder. Some people shouted his name. Others that they wanted to marry him. Niccolò grimaced.

Prince Niccolò: Great King of Shut the Hell Up

 Niccolò got out of the car, walking toward the entrance of the hotel without paying much attention to the people screaming his name. That is, until someone shouted “Prince Neeks!”

It was a reporter. And Niccolò, disdain clear on his face, closed the button of his jacket. His lips were tilted downwards, his chin and nose all scrunched up.

“It’s Niccolò.”

 Will was doubled over in laughter, half down the couch. Niccolò sat still, only a slight twitch on his mouth, not quite a smile. Not quite a frown either.

 “So, how does it feel like to be the Prince?”

“Well. I’ve always been a prince, so. It feels like every other day feels.”

The reporter laughed. “Can’t say I know what that is.”

Niccolò nodded. The reporter nodded. They nodded at each other.

 “God, this is such a torture.”

“You really do make everything awkward. I wish I’d filmed our first few hours together.”

Niccolò groaned from behind his hands.

“I would be a billionaire by now.”

 “Nico say hi!” Came Piper’s voice from behind the camera. She was filming an Instagram story.

Nico looked up. He was sitting in front of a piano, a grimace on his face as soon as he took in the scene. He didn’t move.

Eventually, he waved. He sent a panicked glance to something behind Piper’s phone.

“Say hi!” Piper insisted.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“But I did!”

“You should’ve said hi.”

He hesitated. Sighed. Waved again. “Hi.”

 “You have a beautiful soul,” a girl told Niccolò, holding her phone in his face.

His gaze was focused on something out of the frame, a grimace on his face. “Yours, too.”

The girl’s phone fell, her gasp alerting Niccolò that something was happening in front of him. From the ground, the camera still recorded.

“Sorry. You were saying about your sauce?”

 Niccolò fell asleep a little after their third video. It wasn’t even half past ten, but he snored lightly. Will lowered the TV volume, put the red blanket with reindeers on him, and leaned back into the couch.

Niccolò was beautiful. He was beautiful under the sun, when the snow glowed all around them. He was beautiful in the morning, when he always stopped mid-stairs to rub his eyes. He was beautiful as Will watched him, with the blue light of the TV, the golden one of the fireplace, shining on the little pout he always wore as he slept.

The knot enveloping Will’s stomach tightened. He took the remote again, and searched for another video. He was met with his parents’ faces in the home. They were young back then. He clicked before he even realized it.

“Before Apollo’s new auto-biographic film comes out next March, we decided to take a walk down memory-line, with the evergreen love between Apollo and Naomi. Both young when they met, they had just become part of the music world. Their first single together sold millions of copies, enough to–”

So enthralled on the old family photos, Will didn’t realize Niccolò had awoken, and his hand had sneaked around Will’s wrist.

“So you are a fan?”

Will looked away from the TV. It was so strange, hearing the woman talk (gossip) about his family, and having Niccolò in the same room. Guilt fell heavy on his chest, constricting his lungs.

I’m their son.

“I–” His breath broke.

They are my parents.

“They –”

They are the reason I can’t look at you and think we could ever work, even if we fell in love and were crazy for each other.

“A fan, yeah.”

Niccolò smiled, stretching his arms. When he stretched his legs, he grimaced. “Yeah, I thought so. You looked pretty taken with Apollo the other day.”

Will nodded. “Yeah.”

“He has a sister, you know?” He yawned, his mouth opened so much his jaw could have dislocated.

Will nodded again. He knew. He had only met her on two occasions, his brothers’ funerals. If his siblings’ funerals were the only times they would ever meet, Will hoped to never see her again.

“I don’t like her,” Niccolò mumbled. His eyes drifted closed, and a second later he was snoring again.

Less than a minute, and his cheek was on Will’s shoulder. Dark hair brushed again his nose, and he took a long breath. Pomegranate. Niccolò tasted of them.

Will turned off the TV, and closed his eyes. He wasn’t tired, but he matched Niccolò’s breath. He slept.

 Spotted!

Prince Nico of Elysium and his soulmate have been spotted being cozy in Livigno. Although their stay in the Italian city was made public days ago, clear photos of them hadn’t been released yet (go to gallery). The Prince’s sexuality has been subject of speculation for many years, with Cupid’s–stage name of famous pap–confirmation that he is, indeed, homosexual. However, it isn’t known whether the Prince’s soulmate might be homosexual as well.

The Royal Family hasn’t released any statement regarding the nature of their relationship, although close sources state have stated, that ‘The Prince is quite taken with a close friend of his,’ but the name hasn’t been revealed. Who between Nameless Soulmate and Nameless Friend will win the Prince’s heart?

Stay tuned to discover!

 Latest updates:

Naomi to be featured in Apollo: between glory and reality

Is Tristan McLean’s daughter Piper’s new suspected sweetheart an ex Hollywood kid?

Apollo: between glory and reality, ten reasons to watch it