#Perplexed confusion original post

[perplexed-confusion]

"You're the fastest runner" and that grin!!!

[shiny-jr]

➸ damnation [ the raven retainer ]

– Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Epel Felmier, Rook Hunt, Vil Schoenheit.

– Note: Hopefully everything transferred over okay from the quiz. Been holding off on this one because I know with the amount of Pomefiore and Vil admirers, posting this is like lighting up a firework by hand and having to run before it goes off.

– Pages: 42

– Not satisfied? Try looking here for the quiz to take it yourself and see where you end up banished!

The Vizier's Vassal   |   The Raven Retainer   |   ?????

A dark robe. Wrapped around your shoulders was a black cloak, like wings folded in. Speaking of feathered appendages, there was a single shiny feather tucked behind your ear. You had felt it tickling your earlobe, leading you to pluck it out of your hair to examine it. It was long and black, huge in size, making you imagine it came from a beast of a raven. Slowly you looked up, confused to find yourself at a desk surrounded by books, bottles of odd colorful liquids, and there was even a cauldron in the corner of the stone wall! 

Returning your attention back to the feather, you were perplexed but quite liked it so you placed it back behind your ear where you had originally discovered it. Upon standing from the wooden chair, you noticed your change of outfit. A simple white ruffled shirt and black pants, although nearly every inch of you was covered by the black cloak on your back that reached all the way to your ankle and draped around you like a curtain. Lifting up the cloak, you could feel a short sword strapped safely and securely in a hilt on your back hidden away from sight. What was this place…? Why were you dressed like this? Why did you have a sword? What was going on? Was this your punishment? 

Just then, your eyes drifted over to a book stand where a heavy leather tome sat open to prying eyes. Your prying eyes, to be exact. Curiously you stepped toward it, your fingers ghosting over the crisp pages of the aged book as you squinted incredulously at the words printed on the surface in a large font, occasionally dotted with red ink. “Poison apple…?” Beside it was the painted image of a ripe red apple, and in its shining reflective skin was the distinct shape of a skull. “One taste of the poisoned apple and the victim’s eyes will close forever in the sleeping death.” 

But that… that was from a fairytale! The story of Snow White and the Beautiful Queen! A page about a poisoned apple, the tome, this basement filled with ingredients and suspicious concoctions… So it was true, criminals were often sent to dangerous tales where they would perish. And you... you were a criminal and you were here, but... what role did you play? Lifting your hand up to your ear, you suddenly felt the familiar soft sensation of the black feather accessory and realization dawned on you. Didn’t the queen have a pet raven…? Could that explain why you were here in these strange but fancy clothes? Of all things, why did you have to be the raven? 

How did the story go again? The Queen was vain and wicked, she wished to be the most beautiful of all. It was said that she consulted her magic mirror every day and would inquire as to who the fairest of them all was. Should the mirror ever reply with another’s name instead of hers, she would find a way to kill her rival and would only be satisfied once the mirror answered her name. So when her step-daughter, Snow White, grows to become the fairest of them all, the Queen goes mad with jealousy and has a huntsman attempt to kill her. When that fails, the Queen takes matters into her own hands, eventually turning herself ugly as a disguise and even causing her own untimely demise by falling off a cliff and being crushed by a boulder, her remains left as feed for hungry vultures. That was the Queen, but what about the raven? Well, it’s never disclosed as to what happens to the bird, at least to your knowledge. The last the raven is seen, it was being tormented by the wicked Queen as she was creating the poisoned apple. Actually, maybe being the raven wasn’t so bad afterall… At least it didn’t perish or receive some other horrible ending. 

Knowing this brought you some much needed relief. At least you didn’t end up as the raven in that other story about a sleeping princess. That raven was turned to stone! You pity any poor sucker that might’ve ended up in that position. This outcome was adequate, for now. Perhaps it was best to venture outside, to attempt to find this beautiful queen. To be honest, it was a little exciting. You had always wondered how beautiful she was, since the novels always claimed they could never do her justice. But that's besides the point. Once meeting her, you then had to decide what your next move would be. 

Keeping all that in mind, you climbed the spiraling stone staircases just barely lit by candles. You winced whenever you heard the squeak of a rat or spotted a rotting corpse of a forgotten prisoner still in chains. Quickening your pace until you reached a wooden door, and stepped into the sunlight. It was warm and delightful, the sun’s rays shining on your skin. You felt free. As of now, this was far from punishment. But knowing that you were sent here to be punished or even die, was what kept you from being completely at ease. You could almost just relax here in the calm and beauty of this garden–– key word, almost. Shrieking and many voices shattered your temporary peace, even scaring away the white doves that had flocked in the open courtyard. 

Grumbling, you followed the sound of the commotion. It sounded like it was coming from over the high palace walls. There was one portion of the wall that was shorter than the rest, if you climbed onto the smooth edges of the railing by the stone steps, you could successfully scale onto the top of the wall where you decided to lounge about and spectate the action. On the other side of the wall, you could see a young man getting closer and closer, nervously waving at a large group giggling and following him. It was obvious that he was a little uncomfortable, and that he was trying to lose them without hurting their feelings by how he continued to smile even as he picked up the pace. 

When his eyes landed on you, he appeared surprised, and as he walked the path he was getting closer and closer. Feeling pity for the lad, you sighed and stretched your arm down, to which he hesitated a moment before finally deciding to place his hand in yours. You heaved him up and slid down to the safe side of the wall, the palace side, just before his apparent fans could catch him. Their whining and complaining was amusing. 

“Thank you…! You saved me!” 

Oh, right, he was still here. You glanced over at the young man peering happily up at you with the brightest smile on his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed as you slowly began to notice his features. Hair black as ebony, skin white as snow, dressed head-to-toe in rags… No way––

“Ah, I know you!” He exclaimed, delighted as he took a step closer. “You’re my elder brother’s attendant! I’ve seen you around the palace countless times. You are always working so hard that I’ve never gotten a chance to properly meet you! Of course you may already know but my name is Neige, it’s truly so wonderful to finally talk like this with you!” He performed a small but polite bow. Such manners for a prince in rags. “I never knew you were so kind! Is there any way I can repay you?” 

“Ah, no, there’s no need for that…” You studied his face, attempting to make sense of it all. If this Neige was Snow White, it did make total sense. His skin was flawless, it looked like a marshmallow, so pristine but soft. He was cherubic. His beauty was more of a one of innocence and cuteness, and it seemed the townsfolk noticed his looks judging by how they focused on his physical features instead of his worn and tattered attire. You force your gaze away. This was the prince who the Queen would try to kill. But there’s a chance it may be King in this version, because you’re fairly certain that Neige had just mentioned something about having an elder brother that you apparently worked for. “It was nothing.” 

“Please, don’t be so modest! Your actions were selfless and heroic. Had it not been for you, I’m afraid I would’ve been stuck outside all day with no choice other than to interact with all those that followed me. And I couldn’t have that! I promised my brother that I would do my chores.” A sad frown appeared on his face as his gaze traveled back over to the wall, “Although I do regret having just left them without so much as a goodbye…” 

So he was kind… Makes sense. Most princesses, or prince in this case, were kind-hearted souls that were far too naive or trusting and had the strangest ability to communicate with woodland creatures. However that last part worked, you weren’t entirely sure. 

“The doves of the courtyard gathered by the well with me this morning! And we all made a wish! I, well… It's a bit embarrassing, but I wished for something truly special. And I believe that my wish may have come true!” A pretty pink blush made his cheeks rosy as he clasped his hands together, looking so truly content as he peered up at you. 

“Is that so…?” Well, magical animal talking ability, check that off the list. He really was like the princess from the fairytale. But you didn’t like where this was going. You outgrew fairytales a long time ago, but when you read something so fantastical and magical in your innocent imaginative youth, it sticks with you. Perhaps that was a good thing, because even now you could recall the small details of the story. 

In the beginning of the story, Snow White is cleaning the courtyard when she meets the doves at the well where she makes a wish to meet her true love. Not too long after, the prince appears on horseback, hearing the princess’ song that leads him to climb over the palace walls to get to her. When you got older, you quickly realized how creepy that actually was. The prince crept up on her, and essentially trespassed on private palace grounds. But that’s besides the point right now. The point is, Snow White made a wish to meet her true love which happened to be the prince. Well, right now, you have yet to see another so-called dashing prince or princess. There was just the courtyard and you were alone with Neige, and he was gazing up at you through his lashes and with a pretty smile that appeared too fondly. The Queen, or King, really needed to stop cooping up Prince Neige within the palace walls. It was dulling his sense towards social cues and common sense. 

“Hey! What the hell are you doin’...?!” 

Surprised at the sudden presence beside you, you looked to see another stranger. This one you couldn’t automatically connect to a role. It was a short young man with a cuteness that could possibly even rival the prince. He had such wide blue eyes and odd soft lavender curls that framed his face. Unlike you and Prince Neige, his outfit was of much finer detail which consisted of a white tunic and long dark blue sleeves from the shirt he wore underneath. A red cloak was draped over the shoulders of his small frame, the ends brushing against his simple pants and boots. But despite his fine clothing and adorable appearance, he spoke with such brashness, irked for whatever reason. 

“Ah, you must be Epel! My brother speaks often about you! He says he sees great potential in you!” Neige interjected, oblivious to this Epel fellow’s irritation. Epel… the name didn’t ring a bell. You could accurately deduce what Neige’s role was based on his appearance and the fact that his name meant snow in French. But you still had no idea who Epel was supposed to be. Again, Neige bowed his head in polite greeting as he exclaimed, “Today must be my lucky day! Not only have I met you now, Epel, but I’ve also met–– Um…” He paused, turning to you and inquiring softly, “I’m sorry, I’m so excited that I’ve forgotten to ask your name.” 

The lavender-haired boy quickly snatched your attention away from the prince, grabbing your cloak where your arm would be as he hissed in a whisper so as to not involve Neige. “Are you crazy? Talkin’ to the prince…! Vil is gonna fly off the handle!” Not-so-discreetly gesturing to the window right above them with his eyes darting to it and back to you, but not moving his head, so as to not alert the onlooker behind the glass. 

You froze, not moving your head but your eyes moved up to where Epel had been glancing at. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could just barely make out a tall and thin figure in purple standing at the large window, holding the red curtains open with both hands. They were watching, and just as you moved your head the tiniest bit to get a better look, you only caught a glimpse of a deep angered frown before the curtains were abruptly shut, barring you from seeing anymore. That could’ve only been the beautiful royal, the monarch in charge that sees Prince Neige as a rival. When you looked back at Neige, he was still smiling at you with his hands folded in front of him, patiently awaiting an answer. Poor guy doesn’t know what’s coming. 

“We gotta go, or Rook is gonna drag us back himself…!” Without even waiting for you to give Neige your name, Epel took your hand and ran like a bat out of hell. Making a beeline straight for an entrance to the palace, you attempted to keep up with him. He was surprisingly strong for someone so small. 

Behind you, you heard, “W-Wait, I never got your name…!” 

Well, that’s a crying shame. Focusing your attention on where you were heading, you began to lose track of all the twists and turns within these palace walls. Epel led you forward, he certainly knew where he was going. But you? You hadn’t a clue. That is, until after a few minutes, you arrived at a long hall where at the very end there were double doors already opened. The few soldiers standing guard paid no mind to you and the lavender-haired fellow, probably because in their eyes, you belonged here. And yet that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

You felt so incredibly out of place as you stood on the lengthy blue carpet that stretched forward toward a small yet intricately designed throne of gold and jewels formed in the shape of a magnificent peacock with its feathers fanned out. But what was more entrancing than the priceless throne, was the person sitting atop it. Oh, how the novels did not lie, they truly could not do the monarch any justice in portraying their beauty. The King, who must’ve been Vil, could’ve been a world-famous model. His face looked like those perfect sculpted marble statues, it was the type of look that would incur the envious wrath of gods and goddesses in mythology. There was not a single blemish or flaw. Not even a single hair of his golden locks fading into lavender was out of place. The long purple robes under the longer black cloak flowing down his body, complimented the color of his amethyst eyes. Those eyes looked even more shiny than the golden crown perched atop his skull. You weren’t a simp but wow. 

The King appeared less than pleased, it actually made you incredibly nervous when he bore a frown and silently beckoned you closer with a single curling movement of his index finger. 

Walking past Epel who stood by the door, you took a deep breath as you recounted what knowledge you had on etiquette during this time period. Once you were a few feet in front of him, you began to kneel, when he spoke it caused you to freeze. 

“Don’t.” Intense gaze glued to your form, he watched you carefully as he instructed, “Come closer.” 

You slowly stepped forward, closer to him. 

“Closer.” 

Hesitating, you took another step so one foot was on the step in front of his throne. 

“Closer.” 

Pausing, you inched forward, now standing on the same elevation as the throne. Now you were just centimeters away from him, and it was putting you on edge. When he appeared seemingly satisfied, that’s when you finally kneeled in front of him. With a bowed head, a common sign of respect in customs with monarchies, you greeted simply, “Your Majesty.” 

The King peered down at you, silent for a moment as you kept your head down and eyes glued to the ends of his purple robes and how his black cloak that matched yours, but his was much longer, pooled around his throne to look like a black void. After a few moments, you felt his hand at your chin, his slim fingers urging you to look up. When you did, he hummed, “Well, my lovely pet, have you had your fun with my little step-brother?” He gave a question, but it became obvious that he didn’t want an answer. At least not yet. This king must not be too fond of the prince. As his thumb stroked your chin and raised it so your head was almost at his knee, he continued slowly while gazing down at you, “You know that I loathe sharing, don’t you? So why would I share you with my step-brother, hm? Have you perhaps… begun to favor him over me?”

It struck you then that the royal must be an extremely envious person. Not only did they want to remain first in standing when it came to beauty, but he also wanted to monopolize people’s attention so that they may focus on him. Replying carefully, you spoke while keeping your eyes glued to his enchanting yet intimidating gaze, “Of course not, Your Majesty. It was merely a coincidence that I encountered him. I cannot be as easily swayed as the masses.” For a moment you hesitated, seeing that he seemed unconvinced as you proceeded, “... My loyalty to you cannot be broken by a prince in rags.” 

After a few moments, the tension in the air evaporated as the king graced you with a smile that made your breath hitch. You had said the right thing. Tempted to glance at Epel for a possible clue on what to do next, you refrained and instead remained still as a statue when the king reached forward with his other hand to remove your hood. “Let me see your face, my retainer.” As soon as the hood was removed, he examined your face in the light. It took an incredible amount of calm to keep composed and not squirm in place under his intense scrutinizing gaze. Finally, he frowned and sighed, “I’ve been keeping you confined beneath the castle for far too long. You’re beginning to look ghastly, and I can’t be seen with someone beside me that’s less than appealing to look at.” Removing his hands from your face, he motioned for you to stand, which you did. “You’ve done enough. Getting rid of our guests and covering it up must’ve been challenging, especially for you to do it all on your own. This time, Rook will take over while you will be receiving enough sunlight to revitalize your complexion. Do not overdo it. Rook.” 

Guests? Cover up? This wasn’t in the story. There wasn’t any time to fully process what you heard before you detected yet another voice just right beside your ear. 

“Good day, petit corbeau!” You felt your soul leave your body for a single second when these words were said beside your ear by a voice, an extremely close and unfamiliar voice. When you jumped, startled, you noticed there was another young man literally only an inch behind you. When did he even get there? You didn’t even notice him until now! When you stepped to the side out of the way, you furrowed your eyebrows at his smile. 

The young man was blonde, with hair styled into a ridiculous looking bob-cut but he somehow made it work as he wore a wide-brimmed brown hat with a black feather. Over his shoulders and back he wore a large hunter green cloth that wrapped around his shoulders like a scarf and extended over his back like a small cloak. Underneath, concealed by the cloth, was a dark tunic and black pants with a belt and knife at his hip. However, what unnerved you wasn’t the knife at his hip or the bow and quiver chock full of arrows on his back. It was his eyes. 

His forest green eyes were glued to you, and he bore a wide and charming smile. “Ah, to see you without your hood and out of the undercroft, what a rare sight! Marvelous! I must thank you, Your Majesty, for making this possible! It is not everyday we see your dutiful, striking, mysterious little raven. It is truly a spectacle to behold! I will treasure this rare moment where I’ve not only heard you speak, but have seen your visage without being shrouded by shadows and concealed by your hood!” 

You did not like this. The way he was looking at you as he spoke so dramatically made a shiver crawl up your spine. Yes, he spoke nothing but praise in such an honest tone and declaration, but there was something in his eyes. Something that placed you on edge as his smile turned slightly ominous and his eyes narrowed at you. There was a twinkle in his green eyes as he tilted his head at you inquisitively, as if sensing your unease without you even saying a word. This had to be the Rook fellow that Epel mentioned offhandedly, and now it made sense as to why he ran back so quickly just to avoid encountering him. 

Much to your relief, Vil sighed and interjected without even standing from his throne. Furrowing his eyebrows, he scolded in an irked tone, “I didn’t summon you to pester my little retainer, Rook. Stress from you is not what my retainer needs right now. It causes wrinkles.” 

“Apologies, Your Majesty.” Rook chuckled, obediently turning to fully face the royal as you stood stiffly beside him, keeping a safe distance between you two. 

Behind you, out of the corner of your eye, you could see Epel quietly closing the doors once Vil gestured for him to do so. It seemed the king wanted privacy, he wished to say something not even the guards outside the thick wooden doors were allowed to hear. The only ones that would be witnesses to his words were you, Epel, and Rook. You had to wonder what was so secretive that he didn’t even want his soldiers stationed outside to hear, and why were you allowed to hear? Was it because you were supposedly in the role of his trusted retainer? Maybe it had something to do with that cover-up he mentioned just a short time ago. 

The tension in the room was thick, it disturbed you and you can tell it bothered the short purple-haired young man too if his growing perturbed frown was anything to go by. Despite this, he took up the space beside you. The blonde with the bow, Rook, who you now were assuming to be a huntsman if his attire and weapons were any giveaway, continued to smile without much of a care. Rook was on the left, Epel was on the right, and you were in the center, and still on his throne was King Vil. With luck, you’ll be able to keep up this act. It wouldn’t do for a retainer to fail. It might cost you and be the slip-up that would put an end to this charade of survival. 

“I’ve decided. Rook, the duties I normally give to my retainer will be passed onto you today. You’re much more suited for this job. It involves my little step-brother, Neige.” The way he said the prince’s name made it sound like it pained him just to utter it, like it burned his tongue just to mention him. But he continued. “It seems he’s been working hard at completing his chores, hm? He’s been begging for a day out, and he adores flowers so… Rook, you will take him far into the woods, a secluded meadow where he can pick as many wildflowers as his little heart desires.” 

Once you processed his words, you froze. It dawned on you that it was happening, this was the moment in the story when the beautiful queen commanded her huntsman to murder the princess in the woods. Vil must’ve already consulted the magic mirror and was told that he was no longer the fairest in all the land. That title now officially belonged to Neige, but it wouldn’t for long if the king had anything to say about it. 

The other two loyal and trusted by the king had no idea, as Epel appeared vaguely bored and disinterested while Rook seemed elated. “Of course! I’ll see to it that it is done, Your Majesty––!” 

“I’m not finished.” Vil interrupted, frowning tersely as his gaze turned cold. Tapping his well-manicured nails against the armrest of his throne, his eyes narrowed and he leaned an inch forward while instructing, “There, you will kill him.” 

The shock was immediately evident on the face of the two beside you. Epel, who had been quiet throughout this entire exchange, finally broke his silence with a small gasp as he moved to cover his mouth with one hand. But it was too late, everyone had already heard him and seen his stunned expression. And yet, no one seemed to really care. Everyone was far too engrossed in what was just said by the king. 

Rook appeared just as confounded before disbelief took root, as if he didn’t even wish to believe his own two ears. Removing his hat, he held it to his chest and lowered his head respectfully as he placed a hesitant foot forward. “Your Majesty, our beautiful and lovely Vil, you can’t possibly mean–– our prince Neige…!”

“Silence!” Immediately standing from his seat, he scowled, the prince’s name only making his rage more bitter. And then, he said something unexpected, something off script and never in the story. Gesturing to you, he hissed, “My loyal retainer here could make six souls vanish without a trace, why can’t you do it with one mere prince? Must they do everything? Must I have to dirty my own hands? Hm?” 

Lowering his head further, the huntsman replied quietly, somberly, his smile now gone. “Of course not, Your Majesty. Your delicate hands aren’t meant to be soiled…” It’s as you suspected. Rook stayed alive and was one of Vil’s closest servants because he was witty enough to think of something on the spot that was complimentary enough to appease the bitter royal. At least, that’s what it seemed like at the moment. For now, you were grateful you weren’t him. Some people who read the story of Snow White liked to theorize that the huntsman was murdered by the vicious queen for failing to assassinate the princess. 

Vil was quiet, not completely calm judging by his sneer but he was composed enough not to say anything more. Standing tall, his gaze honed in on you and Epel, to which he spoke, “My loyal, diligent retainer, escort my successor out. I need to have a word with Rook, privately.” 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” You replied hastily with a slow bow. He didn’t need to tell you twice. Just from your few moments here, you can already tell that the king was frightening when vexed, and you did not want to stick around to see if that got worse when he spoke privately with his huntsman. And yet, as you turned tail to retreat back into the hallway past the closed doors, you knew the heir he mentioned could have only been the only other person in the room: Epel. 

Epel, much like you, didn’t seem to have any desire to stick around longer than necessary. Once you and the heir were out and the doors were closed shut, simultaneously you both heaved a sigh of relief, although short and brief as the heavy weight of the king's command was still prominent. There must’ve been even more on the young heir’s mind, because his gaze flittered over to you and he began to eye you suspiciously. With a surprising amount of strength for someone of his short stature and delicate appearance, he grabbed your arm and began to drag you down the halls away from the throne room, soldiers standing guards, and anyone else. Until you were in a different setting, by one of the castle’s exits to a dark backside corner of the garden where there was just one big oak tree that provided shade underneath its huge branches. What was this about? Why did he bring you here? 

Those questions were answered when he finally stopped underneath the tree and let go of your limb, only to whip his head back at you with such an angered expression that caught you off guard. The location now seemed like some place he could yell in frustration without being caught, because it was so quiet and isolated here. “That entire time, when that crazy old goon with that stupid metal crown basically kidnapped me from my home and brought me here for his little contest I wanted no part of, you knew he’d want the losers dead, didn’t you?! Hell, you helped him get rid of the bodies! I trustedyou, you big fat lying s––!” 

Quickly clamping your right hand over his mouth to shut him up, you stared at him as he gazed at you wide-eyed, as if shocked you’d even try to stop him. It dawned on you then. “You don’t want to be here, do you?” Just then, you felt a sharp pain in your palm. Hissing, you immediately retracted your hand, shocked to see some broken skin and feel it sting. He just bit you––! 

Epel spat onto the ground, infuriated as he yelled, “Are you daft? All that time in the undercroft made your brain rot or something?” An idea came to him. Still angry, but brightening up substantially, he lifted his head and glared at you. “Rook’s busy with Vil, and if I beat you there’d be no one to take me back to that stuffy prison of a room.” From his hip, he unsheathed a dagger and pointed it at you. “Out of my way, or I’ll make sure you join the rest of those duds you buried!” 

Removing your own weapon, the short sword from your back, that you thankfully were still carrying and was larger than his own blade, you pointed it at him. “You were saying, Epel, was it?” Seeing his confident expression falter, you decided to add quickly just in case he tried to act recklessly and try attacking you with his dagger anyways. “I’ll tell you this because it seems we both want to live and I believe we might be able to help each other get what we want. So let’s get something straight, I am not the retainer you know.” 

You gave him a moment to process what you said as you both lowered your weapons. In the quiet of the brief moment, you listened for any sign of prying ears but there was none. Upon seeing Epel’s confusion and suspicion with his guard still raised, you continued, 

“It’s unbelievable, I know, but I’m not the same person. Where I come from, this place is a lot like a fairytale story but different. I was arrested back home and sent here as punishment. This means my punishment was to take the role of the pet or servant of the royal and face some unknown demise. Now, from what I’ve picked up, it sounds like you’re here against your will too. Both of us might end up dead if we’re not careful.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of Epel watching you closely and deciding on what to do, he lowered his dagger completely after he saw you lower yours. “That sounds like a load of crap but… the real retainer would know better than to talk to Neige of all people. You didn’t, which explains that.” Maybe he wasn’t entirely convinced by your narrative, because he proceeded to ask, “You said this was like some kid’s story you read once or somethin’? Tell me what happens to me.” 

“That’s the issue. It’s an old story that doesn’t go into detail, you weren’t even a character and my role is just a raven.” Placing away your sword that you handled a bit awkwardly, since you really had no idea how to use it, but the heir didn’t seem to notice that as he placed away his own weapon. “From what I got, you were brought here against your will and there were others that are no longer here. Now, you’re the royal heir. Care to explain?” 

Raising an eyebrow, Epel demanded, “If I tell you, you have to promise to tell me something. You know what’s gonna happen, don’t you?” 

“I do.” Nodding at his words in confirmation, you then answered, “Of course I’ll tell you since we’re helping each other out.” 

After a second, he sighed, “Fine. I’ll trust you, but only because you’re not really the retainer. Ya see, I’m from a small farming town near the borderlands. A few months ago, Vil gave a secret proclamation. He wanted the seven of the most beautiful candidates gathered at his castle, status or talent didn’t matter, as long as they were younger than him and had looks up to his high standards. Rook, you met him already, was in charge of finding these candidates and bringing them in whether they liked it or not, and you, or well… the old retainer, were in charge of taking the loser home whenever someone failed one of Vil’s challenges. At least, that’s what they told us. My guess is that the king doesn’t want his little brother to inherit the throne since he’s so jealous and all. All the candidates had a chance to become the next in line for the throne if they won all the challenges, and if they lost they got to go home. But no matter how hard I tried to lose, you kept me from losing so I guess I owe the old retainer for that because without them I’d be… probably lying face-down in a ditch somewhere.” 

Slowly he shrugged, those words he uttered now being processed in his mind. It seemed to have struck him, because he became quiet. 

“... I was the last one standing, even though I didn’t wanna be. Ever since then, I’ve been stuck here, forced to spend my days with strict lessons being taught by Vil. All my escape attempts were stopped by Rook, of course, that crazy loon…” Gazing up at you, he slowly regained his confidence and nodded, “But now, I’m gonna escape for sure this time and go back home! Screw the crown and these dumb silk clothes!” 

“Easy, Epel, for now we just do as we’re told. I don’t want things to get too out of hand if it isn’t necessary. In the original story, the queen, king in this situation, causes his own death. As long as we avoid angering him AND avoid Neige, we should be fine. But…” You considered your next words carefully. What if something goes wrong? What if things had to change drastically in order to survive? Would you have a better chance at surviving if the protagonist, Neige, were to actually die and the antagonist, Vil, receive a good ending instead? You didn’t truly want to kill the prince, even if he was naive, he seemed like a truly good person. But if it was you or him… “I still need to see how things play out. If it comes down to it and things take a wrong turn, how far will you go to survive?” 

Epel gave you a look before scoffing and taking out his dagger as a reminder, “I was about ready to stab ya just to escape and get back home. I’ll do anything to make it outta here alive, to make sure both of us live. But now since you’re helping me out, and I’m helping you out, we gotta stick together. Got it?”

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

For your own safety, you deemed it better to do nothing in the meanwhile as you waited to see if the plot would progress as it did in the story. What you hadn’t taken into account was how long the wait would be. Apparently when Vil instructed Rook to escort Neige out to be discreetly killed, he didn’t mean right at that second. It was something he had planned to happen soon, but not quite yet. This gave you enough time to assess the situation.

One thing you were grateful for was the former retainer’s work ethic. The beautiful king had deemed you had done enough by assisting in his endeavors that included potion-brewing and murder, something you hadn’t actually done, at least not for him. So, your responsibilities included keeping Epel in check as a prince-in-training and staying out to receive enough sunlight as per Vil’s strict orders. 

For the remainder of the first day and the following second day, you and Epel reviewed the lessons he loathed and quietly retreated to garden grooves to discuss possible plans of action including what to do afterwards when you had both gained your freedom. Additionally, you learned from the heir that you were not so different from the character you replaced. Even Epel admitted he was fooled until that one mistake you made of acknowledging Neige. So, all you would have to do was keep calm and be yourself, but also not yourself. You were technically playing the role of someone else that just happened to act like you. 

Your superior had summoned you on the second night. When you arrived, you saw servants around the ballroom decorating the area with fine silk curtains and candelabras. Round tables set up in another section of the extensive room, tables set with sheets and porcelain. Vil stood at the edge of the room, noticing you out of the corner of his eyes as another attendant brought to his attention something about outfits. 

As Vil began to strut towards another room, you could do nothing but follow as he commanded, “Hurry now, my retainer.” 

You did as you were told, following and noting down the little details from the dark colors used in most of the decorations as well as the mention of flowers being prepared. Once in a private room with you and his entourage, he delicately removed his crown from his blonde tresses. “Epel is much more tame with you. I swear, that boy is giving me white hair.” 

No, but you’re going to do that to yourself, you think as you recall the scene from the story where the beautiful queen turns herself into a ragged old hag. “He can be… a little troublesome, yes.” You stand closer to the door as the beautiful young man disappears behind an elegantly patterned dressing screen. 

Judging by the servants there carefully handling various types of clothes, you could only assume he was trying on different outfits for whatever event he was preparing to host. During a review of Epel’s lessons, you were able to learn as well. Despite Vil being a person of great envy and cruelty, he was actually a fair leader that was beloved by most, so long as they didn’t incur his wrath. Reportedly, multiple nobles, knights, and other royals have vied for the beautiful king’s affection, but to no avail. All were turned down. 

“Troublesome, hah, you’re being much too kind. That wouldn’t be my choice of word.” Vil scoffed as he changed behind the screen. Once he was seemingly satisfied with an outfit after throwing multiple aside, he emerged in a slightly long, dark, and exquisite dress-like garb with large sleeves. Snapping his fingers, he stood straight as his eyes lingered on you as he said simply, “Jewels.” 

Picking up his meaning, you gingerly plucked the intricate golden necklace a nearby servant was carrying on a pillow and assisted him in placing it on. You steadied your breathing as you noticed that he was watching you carefully. Moving in front of him, you placed the detailed and sharp claw rings on his index finger and ring finger as he raised his hand. 

“How is this?” 

You took a step back and looked him over when you realized he was speaking to you, not anyone else in the room. You knew what he wanted to hear, but you couldn’t help but think that the evil king was indeed…. “Gorgeous.” 

He didn’t respond. Instead, he extended out his arm, the tip of the silver claw he wore on his finger at your neck as you instinctively lifted your chin at his gesture to avoid being poked. You weren’t really sure what he was thinking, and it was making you anxious. Had he seen through you as Epel had? Or perhaps he was cross? There were a million different ways to die in this story. There was a reason you were sent here and that was to meet a cruel end. 

“You flatter me, my retainer. I know you don’t sugarcoat words.” Vil tilted his head, analyzing you from another angle as he smiled. Unexpectedly, his soft and pale hand was placed on your cheek. You felt your heart stop, whether from fear or something else, you couldn’t be sure. “You see, proper sunlight and sleep does work miracles. You no longer have those horrid eyebags.” Lowering his hand, his smile was gone as he seemed to recall something. “You’re the only competent and trustworthy person in this entire castle, my pet, besides myself, of course. What would I do without you? Always there for me, even before I ascended to the throne. Even when my father married that awful woman that brought the perfect lovely boy that became my brother and a stain in my life…” 

After a moment of considering your response, you replied quietly, “You have always loathed Neige, haven’t you…?” The prince’s sweet words and shy smile instantly came to mind. 

Upon detecting your words, you watched his expression sour as he instantly commanded everyone, who were too far and busy to hear anyways, to leave at once. All except you. Now, you remain alone with the king. It seems like you hit a nerve with your words, and you feared what he would do to you now that the two of you were alone.

Vil took a sharp breath before raising his head to meet your eyes. Under his intense gaze, you felt small but you merely swallowed your growing restlessness and kept your lips shut as he began, “I’ve always told you that I do not want you to ever utter his name. I lost the kingdom’s people to him, my friends left me for him, even my own father was beginning to favor him! I refuse to lose you too! If that boy takes one more thing away from me––” 

“I’ve stayed this long.” You attempted, interjecting with words that you thought would fit this character you were playing. 

“Because I demanded it.” His response caught you by surprise, but what was more unnerving was what came out of his lips next. “Father accepted my request for you to become my retainer, but the woman he married did not. And so, I concocted my very own poison, more lethal than cyanide, and slipped it into her wine. You are here because I wanted you here. Of course, I never revealed that to you until now.” You were given almost no time to process his words as he changed the subject, lifting his hand to admire his silver claw rings and painted nails. “I must admit, I was beginning to become a little concerned with you hardly leaving the undercroft in recent months. I was afraid you had become dull as I kept you to myself, and you know I don’t exactly like dull people by my side. I didn’t want to toss you aside after all we’ve been through together.”

Pursing your lips, reeling from this wave of new information, you murmured, albeit unsurely, “I don’t believe I’m dull… I like to think of myself as interesting.” 

Amethyst eyes landed on you, the blonde man scrutinizing you as he gibed with a frown, “Was I asking your opinion or stating mine?” 

Staring right at him, your snarky reply is already pouring out before you can even stop it. “Well, are you asking me my opinion…?” It’s silent as his cold gaze instantly lands on you. Shit. You instantly avert your eyes downward and bow your head in apology, knowing you fucked up. This was why you kept everything to yourself. This king poisoned his own step-mother for not giving him what he wanted, he ordered the former retainer to kill six innocent candidates for his competition to become heir, and he was willing to murder his very own brother who admired and loved him. What would he do to a raven with a sharp tongue? Just as possible scenarios begin flashing in your mind and you remain bowing, you clenched your fist, prepared to unsheath your hidden sword under your cloak and fight back if necessary–– when he laughed. Vil laughed. 

It wasn’t a mocking one of ridicule, but rather an amused one. Lifting the back of his hand to his lips to partially cover his mouth, his laughing ceased. There was amusement, a wicked and eager look in his eyes as he hummed, “There’s that plucky side of you I missed so dearly!” Smiling, he reached forward, carefully tugging your hood down as he scolded lightly, “What have I said about wearing your hood around me? Especially indoors. Honestly, you never learn. I should strip you of that cloak you always stubbornly refuse to remove, that way you always show your face as you’re told.”

“I apologize, Your Majesty. It won’t happen again…” Unsurely you kept quiet, only offering to change the subject once the king had reached over to trail his fingers along the side of your face. “If I may ask, what’s the occasion? I wasn’t notified of these ongoing preparations.” 

“A funeral.” Vil noticed how you went quiet and how your eyes widened. At your reaction, he chuckled, lowering his hand away from your face to tap his sharp finger against his chin. “Why so quiet? Don’t worry, it’s not for you. It’s merely… a preparation in advance.” Oh. You realized who it was for now. The thought of his rival dying seemed to bring the king joy as he smiled so cruelly. How morbid. Then, his attention returned back to you. It seemed he was thinking of something else now once his sights landed on some trashed envelopes in the bin, because his expression had turned to one of mild annoyance. “These suitors from afar are so bothersome. No matter how I refuse their advances, they continue with their gifts and letters filled with flattery, thinking that’ll be enough to win me over. How wrong they are. Love affairs are of no use or any interest to me…” 

You gazed at the bin chock full of paper and shattered gifts. Your voice was quiet, but it carried in the silence of the room. “It must be difficult to be so admired…” 

“Indeed it is.” Vil nodded, continuing to tap his chin thoughtfully. Those eyes on the trashed envelopes slowly made their way over to you, his slight frown morphing to an amused smile. “Although, perhaps I’ve changed my mind…” Extending his hand, you slowly and unsurely slid your left hand into his palm. Vil stepped closer, so close you could smell his sweet perfume and all you could see was him. You felt like a caged bird, cornered, as he leaned just a tad bit closer and continued to smile. However, now his smile was more teasing, but it felt wicked and dubious, “Once Neige is gone, all that time I spent being tormented and pestered by him, can now be dedicated to you. Lately, I’ve been watching you, and there’s something intriguing about you now. It’s as if you’re no longer so absorbed in your work, like you’re finally seeing me as something more than just your superior. You haven’t been brewing potions of passion in the undercroft, have you?” 

By now your face was hot, burning at his implications, by his close proximity, by the look in his eyes that made you think he may genuinely be interested but the tiny voice of reason in the back of your head waving red flags at his notions. When he suspected you were even considering looking away from his intense gaze to avoid eye contact, he squeezed your hands in warning, his nail rings pricking your skin ever so slightly. So you were forced to meet his gaze and reply awkwardly, “Of course not… I’m not you.” 

The king cackled, raising the back of his other hand to his lips again. With a tone of confidence, he did not even hesitate to respond, “Oh, you’re funny. My poor pet… I would say you’re bird-brained, but you’re not that.” He leaned his head right beside yours, until his painted lips lingered by your ear. The proximity was making you dizzy. His voice was like honey as he whispered, “I don’t need a potion to win you over––” 

“Your Majesty, our wondrous Vil!” 

Saved by the huntsman. You resisted the urge to heave a sigh of relief while Vil continued to grip your hands and slowly pull away, his head turned to glare at the one who dared to interrupt the moment he was so engrossed in. It seemed he wanted to say something, but he managed to control himself as he merely hissed, “Speak.” 

During the pause, you were able to shift your gaze over to him. The huntsman was at the open window, one foot inside already and hands gripping the sides to heave himself up. Why didn’t he come through the door like a normal person? Wasn’t this room on the second floor? 

“I have to remind you of your meeting with your precious heir apparent.” Rook smiled as he fully entered through the window, seemingly paying no heed to the scene he just stumbled upon or the vexation in the king’s tone. 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Releasing his hold on your hand, he sent you one last chilling glance. When he leaned closer once again to whisper in your ear, your breath hitched as he purred, “Later.” Once he stepped away, he gave you one last mesmerizing look before exiting the room. Yes, you were thankful you didn’t have to deal with the king until next time, but now you pitied Epel for having to stand his presence for hours of lecturing and scolding.  

Once the king was gone, you felt vulnerable. While he was pushing you on the edge with his advances and you knew any sign of rejection might tick him off, it was a different kind of unease now that you were alone with the huntsman who you eyed warily. By the time your eyes drifted back to him, you felt your heart rate spike as you noticed he was staring. Upon your gaze meeting his own, he merely smiled a little wider as he hummed. 

There was no way you would willingly stick around to be alone with him. 

As you slid your hood back on, prepared to take your leave as well, the huntsman’s sharp green eyes landed on the palm of your right hand that was lifted up to move your hood. For a moment, his narrowed gaze vanished and instead was replaced with a quizzical look and a curious smile. Stepping forward, he took your hand in his gloved grip, but he was careful as the tip of his finger traced the now fading injury caused by Epel’s bite. He gasped lightly.

“My, my, what kind of beast could have caused this damage that tarnished your skin? How dare they, for a creature as lovely as you to be wounded like this, why, it should be criminal!” 

You hesitate, looking down at the mark that had partially healed on its own. It wasn’t that deep anyways. “Dog.” 

Those watchful green eyes flickered up to your expression for a moment, before he chuckled and shook his head. His blonde hair swished back and forth a bit with his head movement, as he removed some gauze from his satchel. There was a hint of amusement that appeared in his smile, and while he wrapped the gauze around your hand, he spoke, “A dog? Ah, I see… But, dogs have much sharper canines that would have cut deeper into the flesh. I’ve hunted an untold amount of wildlife in my time, and encountered nearly every species in the animal kingdom. And this bite mark doesn’t match any creature that comes to mind. It’s truly odd, isn’t it? The shape of the wounds nearly looks like it was formed by something… human.” 

He knows. He knows you were lying. You go completely still, allowing him to complete what he was doing. It felt like he was purposefully taking his time in wrapping the gauze securely, as if he were going slowly just to get some sort of reaction. What was his goal? Seeing his eyes on you as he finished the task was unnerving. Could he hear your rapidly increasing heart rate? Was he able to detect the growing alarm you felt? 

At your silence, he merely shrugs and finally lowers your hand. That cursed gaze travels away as he says in a near-whisper, “Marks such as those aren’t meant for the hand, they’d do nicely elsewhere though.” 

“What?” 

“Ah, forgive me, I haven’t apologized for my sudden earlier intrusion between yourself and His Majesty.” Was he seriously going to gloss over what he said as if it were nothing? Now he was back to his positive demeanor. Although his smile was different now, it seemed more harmless, that didn’t do much to place you at ease in the slightest. “It wasn’t my intention to barge in! But I will admit, while the sight was exquisite and it was the very picture of romance, I did feel a twinge of jealousy.” 

Did the huntsman like the king like that…? For a moment, your heartbeat steadied as you got a hold of your composure. Honestly, that moment with Vil is probably the first and last you’ll ever get to a romantic moment with a gorgeous person. “Oh, was it because of me?” 

You were about to put out a quick and simple apology, but you didn’t get a verbal response. No. Rook only smiled with mirth, his eyes glimmering with amusement appeared to narrow again as he crossed his arms. At his lack of a reply, you feel right on the edge once again, your heart rate picking up immediately again. 

“... You were jealous of the situation I was in with His Majesty, right…?” 

There was no response yet again. However, the bridge of his nose crinkled slightly as his shoulders shook with the quiet laughter that came out of him. Much like before, he doesn’t answer. Instead, he continues to speak as if this were nothing but mere pleasant conversation. “I must admit, it is always a joy to see you. I must have done something favorable by lady luck, because our paths continue to cross much more frequently. Ah, I’d like to share with you something I experienced. Just a few hours ago, I happened across writing and I could not help but be reminded of your being which remains shrouded in mystery. I believe it went something like…” Rook cleared his throat as he recited somewhat dramatically, “This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing. To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core. Ah, those fiery eyes of yours are exactly what I envisioned in my mind as I read those poem’s lines…! To finally be the one who those focused eyes lay upon––” “Are you done? I’m busy.” You interject, managing to keep an even tone and stoic expression, but it was difficult considering that you just could not relax around the huntsman. You did not forget how he didn’t answer the question about jealousy, which made you nervous as you imagined the possibility that maybe he wasn’t jealous of you with Vil. 

Not offended by the curt response, Rook only continued positively. Not only was his reaction, or rather lack of one, very slightly annoying, it was worrying. Most people would have been surprised and maybe even upset by the interruption, but he didn’t appear negatively affected in the slightest. You couldn’t predict his behavior, and that alone was cause for concern. “Forgive me, I’m simply thrilled to finally be holding a proper conversation with you! Normally by now you would have turned heel and walked away, which is why I currently think you are particularly bewitching these past few days. It’s as if the fog around you that you used to cloak your most private secrets and puzzling nature has passed but been replaced by a thicker cloud of fog. You’re an enigma. Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

In that moment you held your breath and you felt your blood run cold. Automatically your mind drifted to the weight of the sword on your back. It was heavy, heavier than his dagger and more useful at this proximity than his bow. However, pulling out a sword against him was counterproductive when he was a vital part of the catalyst that sparked the sequence of events that would eventually lead to the story’s ending. 

Considering your options, allowing the villains to live and perhaps even assisting them in the end would weigh in your favor. Afterall, you had yet to see any prince or princess for Neige, which meant things were already changing whether you liked it or not. Say a good ending was achieved where the pretty protagonist prince lived happily ever after. What would this get for you? It wouldn’t be the happy ending you knew in the fairytale if there was no royal on horseback to save Neige after he bites the poisoned apple. Should you somehow help him achieve a good ending, then what? Would he live with the seven dwarves in a cottage for the rest of his life or marry and inherit a crown? What could he offer you? On the other hand, Vil already had the crown, wealth, and power. These living conditions were quite nice when you didn’t have much to do, and if you ever felt threatened, running away with a bag stuffed with gold from the treasury would be easy. 

Perhaps being the beautiful king’s raven wasn’t so bad, all things considered. This was a hell you may be able to adjust to and accept as your punishment. 

“I like when people speak frankly, not in riddles.” You respond calmly, despite the racing of your heart. Responding was a risk, but ignoring his words wasn’t any safer. It made sense as to why he was a hunter, because at the moment you were cornered and he hadn’t so much as removed a single arrow from his quiver. 

Rook, again, only smiled ominously. It didn’t feel like he had malicious intent, but you still felt like you were in danger, you still felt threatened. He could, metaphorically speaking, pull the trigger at any second and you would be dead. As if he saw through you and knew all your secrets. All he was doing now was baiting you for another word, another sentence, another phrase, any slightest sound or action that was a slip-up leading to more information falling into the palm of his hands. Maybe that’s why he didn’t respond. Either that, or you were thinking way too deeply and the paranoia was starting to consume your mind. You wanted to believe it was the former and you weren’t quite insane yet. 

Finally, he chuckled, amused as he crossed his arms over his chest and peered at you with his forest green eyes. You could only imagine how terrifying he was when he was truly in his element, when he shed formalities and used the weapons strapped to him. “Your eyes speak a million words, and your actions paint a most curious story! Tell me, little raven, what words do you have for me?” 

Were you seriously participating unwillingly in this dangerous dance with the very man that served Vil? Rook was his huntsman, he was to hide no secrets from His Majesty and carry out his will. And it felt like Rook knew everything he wasn’t supposed to know.

It could have been the adrenaline and fear you felt in this current moment underneath the composed facade that formed the words in your head. Clutching your wrapped hand to your chest, you took a breath. You really were just like a wounded animal he was seconds from ensnaring. Although you wouldn’t hesitate to lash out. Ravens were known for plucking out eyes. The answer came too fast, “You won’t be able to do it. You can’t kill the prince.” 

Upon hearing your words, Rook appeared surprised, but it was only momentarily. Only a second or two of shock, before his bewilderment morphed into satisfaction. Like he had just won and caught the quarry. “Ah, how wonderful! So, you have decided to impart your knowledge upon me just as you have to Epel! I feel truly privileged!” 

You froze in place. You never once mentioned anything to Rook about what you knew from the story, and you trusted that Epel would keep his mouth shut. So how did he know? 

It’s like that piercing gaze of his could see directly into your mind, as if he could hear your very inner thoughts. As you remained stagnant in shock, waiting to see who would be the brave soul to make the first move, he spoke amicably, answering the question you never voiced. “Even the walls have ears. It is my duty to serve His Majesty in any way I can, so of course no whispers or rumors escape me.” Then, his smile turned sad and disappeared, that jovial tone diminished to a quiet whisper, “But, you are correct. I cannot do it.” 

You raised an eyebrow at his words, processing his confession. Seeing the huntsman with his head lowered toward you, was exactly like in storybook book pages that depicted a humble huntsman bowing before a princess to beg for forgiveness. It's possible that maybe the huntsman wasn’t evil, afterall, he would be the one to spare the innocent royal. Maybe he had a heart, a good one. But you didn’t. 

“Why? You can hunt animals and drag seven innocent people here to involuntarily compete for the crown. And you knew six of those seven were to die, didn’t you?” You crossed your own arms after making sure the black hood was securely over your head. 

Catching a glimpse of his somber frown, you knew his answer would remain unchanging. He did not have the guts to go forth and stain his hands red with the blood of an innocent prince. “I… I did not know they would perish. I truly thought they would be set free.” 

You sigh, contemplating your next actions. You truly didn’t want to harm Neige either, even if Vil despised him with all his heart, mind, and soul. However, the highest chances of you avoiding a terrible fate and achieving some sort of wonderful life, could only be accomplished if the Evil King received a good ending. That could only happen if the prince was dead, as Vil would only be deemed the fairest one of all once his rivals were vanquished. “Fine then, if you cannot do it, I’ll do it myself.” 

Rook, apparently temporarily shocked, was stunned by the resolve in your own words. He searched for any wavering determination before he tried to smile once more. For now he lowered his feathered hat to his chest as he spoke and stretched out an inviting hand, “Let’s not talk such dreary things. Please, there’s a lovely view at the top of the palace where you might perhaps tell me more about this story. I’m awfully curious, and it just might help me finally understand you better.”

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

It became clear after that fateful evening that Rook knew every happening that occurred in the palace and in the nearby town. There was no possible way to keep it secret, so you told him the basics such as that this was a story and he was a character within the tale, but you decided it best to tell him no more than that. It would be optimal to give him no upper hand at all. It was then promised that he wouldn’t share this information, and you made doubly sure to emphasize the fact that you would make certain that he received a bad ending if he were to betray your trust. However, the eccentric huntsman only laughed in amusement at your threat. What a weirdo. 

Well, at the very least, Rook was not the only one keeping tabs on happenings within the palace. That was what you had Epel for, he was useful in giving up information when it was needed. Even if he was formerly a peasant boy, he was no idiot. He never gave anything for free, it was a trade of knowledge which you didn’t entirely mind. There were lots of useless story details and scenes you could give up, such as the existence of the dwarves and the cottage in the woods. Besides, at the rate this story was shifting, those characters nor settings would no longer be necessary. 

But one day, Epel brought a very interesting account that could potentially change everything. 

Within the private training room where the king’s valued heir took fencing lessons, the door was abruptly slammed open, and there stood the said heir looking particularly ruffled. Manners tossed aside by how harshly he opened the door and flung it shut behind him, he ripped his cloak off his shoulders and chucked it aside as if it weren’t a carefully tailored cloth and instead a wash rag. Etiquette forgotten from his countless hours of learning it, he spoke naturally in his odd and difficult to understand dialect. “Vil’s pitchin’ a hissy fit with a tail on it! I was nearabout ready to come back, figured you’re way better than listening to all them uppity folk––” 

You stopped, lowering the new lighter and sharper sword you exchanged for the old one you carried on your back. He spoke so quickly and said so many words that went completely over your head, you had to give him a look as you interrupted his talking, “English, Felmier.” 

Freezing in his tracks, he groaned and repeated in a clearer, simpler manner, “Vil is mad. There. You happy?” 

“Then say so.” 

“I did!” He threw his hands up in exasperation. Epel continued, but thankfully not in his natural dialect. Although it was evident that he was still peeved about something. “There was some girl that showed up, a princess or something, and she asked for an audience with Vil! I happened to overhear, everyone was raving thinkin’ that it was just another princess asking for the king’s hand, but when she was talkin’ to Vil, she asked for Neige’s hand!” 

The prince. It was the prince, now princess, that was originally supposed to be the one that Prince Neige fell in love with. The arrival of the princess would certainly throw a wrench in the plan. Why had it taken her so long to show up when you had already believed that they would no longer be involved within the tale? 

The lavender-haired former farmer boy, paced back and forth in this wide training space. Usually he’d take an interest in the fencing equipment, it was one of the few lessons he actually enjoyed and took part in without so much stubborn complaints or begrudging behavior. But right now, he was far too troubled to even think about fencing. “When Vil summoned Neige to meet the princess, he turned her down! Said somethin’ about having feelings already for someone within the palace. Well, whoever it was, Vil must’ve known, because he nearly went haywire right then and there!” Stopping his steps, he turned to you and went on accusingly, “You know who it is, don’t you? Spit it out!” 

“It’s me…” This could not be happening–– You never were supposed to gain the affection of that pure-hearted prince! Now, Vil likely figured out who his step-brother had eyes for, and this would not bide well with his envious nature. 

Those big blue eyes of his widened in shock. “What?!” 

Neige had to be gone and fast. But how could one make a prince disappear? It wasn’t as if he could be done with and escape the consequences. The royal was beloved by the citizens far too much, should they learn that he was murdered, things would quickly become problematic. There could be no raising a blade against him. Unless… an accident of sorts was staged. 

Suddenly, you’re reminded of the image of a delicious red apple, a tool to the original plot that becomes the princess’ demise. Perhaps you didn’t have to stray too far from the plot after all. However, someone would have to take the blame once the deed was done. “Is the princess still here?” 

Confused by the inquiry but nodding in response, Epel looked even more baffled than before. “Yeah, but why do you care? What’s she got to do with this? Don’t tell me she’s somebody important.” 

If staying with Vil was the quickest and easiest route where a good ending for yourself was more certain, then you’d take it. No princess or prince would get in the way, and you would use Epel to help secure the ending. Even if some persuasion was needed, since you knew he didn’t have much of an appreciation for the current king. Lowering your blade on the table, you left it behind as you approached him, close enough to place your hands on his shoulders and look him in the eye. Close enough so he could hear the whisper that came from your lips, so quiet that not even a mouse in the walls could detect what was said, only he could hear these words. “We are going to assassinate Prince Neige.” 

Epel gazed at you with pure disbelief, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth open a gape in bewilderment. “But that’s Rook’s––” 

“Rook can’t be counted on.” You counter. At the moment, you were unsure if Rook could really go through and murder the prince with his own two hands. You’ve trusted him enough with your own secrets, but you certainly didn’t trust him with your fate.

The heir appeared to contemplate it. The atmosphere had turned somber, like he was seriously considering it. Not just anyone could stomach the knowledge, but he appeared to be processing it just fine. That is, until he suggested something that surprised even you. “Why not just, change the target to someone of higher power and just… you know.” He made a swift slicing motion over his neck. You knew exactly what he meant, and who he meant. “That way, we’d both be free.” 

“It’s not guaranteed to work. Killing a king would be more difficult than killing a prince that the king wants dead anyways.” You point out that simple fact. There were constantly guards around the king like worker bees following their queen. However, here on palace grounds, most avoided the prince as they knew interacting with him was a quick and easy way to make the king bitter. This made Neige vulnerable. 

A frown appeared on his lovely face, etched on like a pout. While his look may be an endearing one, his voice did not say the same. By his tone, he sounded unsure, maybe even a tad bit annoyed as he accused, “You forgot, I don’t give a damn about the crown! If that happened, it would mean that I’ll definitely end up taking Vil’s place one day.” 

“I didn’t forget.” You reply instantly, using logic to convince him that this was the best option available. “You forget how vain his majesty is. Vil will never give up the crown willingly. The only time he’ll give it up, is when he’s old and gray and on his deathbed. By then, you’d either be long gone on to freedom, or have figured out some other way to handle the matter in whatever way you want. As for me, I don’t care who’s king, as long as I get to live and be happy.” You could visibly see the gears turning in his head as he heard your words. You add more to pressure him further and make him see reason. “Like it or not, you’re involved. In whatever way this ends, just remember, the citizens of this kingdom will likely not be so kind to you if word ever reached them that you were the chosen heir of the king, a king that abused the precious prince. Even if you didn’t participate directly, the fact still stands that you’re connected to Vil. If Neige receives his happily ever after, everything may end alright, or it may not, but I can’t guarantee your safety in that case. That’s why I suggest getting rid of him now, and placing the blame on someone else.” 

“Someone else… They’ll never suspect us. This is insane, I mean, I don’t care for that guy but… me, you, us––” He slapped his hand over his mouth, moving it up towards his hair. The young man looked so stressed that he was about ready to pull out his lavender curls. And yet, there wasn’t really anger. Mild irritation maybe, but not anger, and something else was there. Something foreign to you. “I’d kill for you, you’d kill for me.” 

Ah, maybe. Maybe not. It depended on the situation, but he didn’t need to know that. Although it was reassuring to hear that he was most definitely an ally that would help to achieve your goal. 

His small hands remained on his scalp, tangled in his hair, gripping his own head as he raved, “Don’t tell me you’ve been learnin’ all that potions stuff from the king! It feels like I’m going crazy, havin’ these unnatural thoughts I never had before–– I’ve been imagining things. I want to get out of this dump, but I imagined runnin’ away with you, showing you my village, introducing you to my ma and everyone else back home! Then forgetting everyone else in this stupid place!” 

Those big blue eyes gazed right at you, scanning your face that he’s come to actually grow fond of. Out of everyone in this hell, he actually liked your company, craved it even. There’s no one else here on palace grounds that he would willingly talk to without grumbling about it. Even if it began with the original retainer, his trust grew with you, the imposter. 

“It’s all your damn fault…! But I’m not mad, I can’t be, even though I want to spit and punch you for this but at the same time I don’t wanna hurt you. Just, tell me right now, to my face. Tell me it’s stupid and I’m actin’ dumb so I quit it!” 

You nod, a bit stunned by the outburst. However, you had other plans in mind. “Keep it up.” 

By now maybe it was giving him false hope at an ending he dreamed of, but he was still useful to you. So for now, you ignored his look of shock and pink on his cheeks as you pried his hand off his head and he lowered his other hand to his side. 

The plan was simple really, it would be far too easy if you could actually manage to pull it off. “I’m telling you this, because you will have to help me guide the princess in the right direction. Talk to her, steer the conversation to romance. If she’s smart, she’ll ask you for advice assuming you know Neige. Suggest giving a gift. Once everything is over, then we can think about your hometown.” 

There was still shock on his face, as if he was still struggling a bit to process everything that was coming out of your mouth. It seemed like it was a lot, as one of his dainty hands held your hand tightly while his other hand gripped part of the cloth of his shirt, his knuckles turning white from the strength behind his grip. “I thought you were kinda cool. Not as annoying as Rook or Vil or anyone else, and I wanted to escape with you…! But this murder plan just makes it seem like you’re exactly like that old raven that you replaced, but for some stupid reason I still can’t not like you.”

“It will technically not be murder. In a way… It’s complicated.” 

There were apple trees at the very corner of the royal grounds. A basket of fruit would be a sweet and kind gesture with unsuspecting maliciousness intertwined. All that was needed was to take the apple that would be picked, poison it as the beautiful queen did in the original tale, and place it back in the basket that the princess would offer to the prince. Poisoning it as it was done in the fairytale, wouldn’t truly kill Niege. It would merely place him under a death like sleep, with the chance that he may one day wake up several years in the future long after we are gone. Because really, Neige didn’t truly deserve death. However, even if he was to never wake up, at least he would be in a dream and avoid a brutal end by his jealous step-brother. 

“But there’s only one person who can make the poison we need for this to succeed…” 

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

The plan had to be enacted before Rook could take Neige to pick flowers. Luckily, or unluckily for you, a request for an audience with the king was not even needed. Before you could even search for him as you were rereading pages of the heavy tome in the undercroft, there was the creaking of the wooden door that signaled someone entering the dungeon beneath the palace. 

Hardly anyone else ventured down here, and by the clicking of heels against the stone floors, it became obvious of who it was. Your theories were only confirmed true when you felt a presence behind you, peering over your shoulder as the delightfully familiar voice that filled you with unease greeted kindly, “My dear retainer.” 

Instantly you felt your body stiff and rigid, feeling uncertain under his gaze. You were many things, but often fearful wasn’t one of them. This story was just filled with characters that made you tense, the king being the one that troubled you the most. Despite all this, you managed to remain polite, only turning your head to nod at him with respect. “Your Majesty. It’s a surprise to see you down here.” 

“I could say the same. Didn’t I specifically instruct you to stay aboveground for the time being?” It sounded like a scolding, but it was nowhere near as harsh as one. In fact, it sounded more like gentle chastising. Not at all like the harsh criticism and stern reprimanding he gave to anyone else. Not another word came about that before his amethyst eyes landed on the pages you were reading. “Poison apple. You weren’t by chance planning to assassinate me with that, were you? That’s not nearly enough poison to eliminate me. Haven’t you heard of mithridatism?” 

Mithridatism? Did he practice that? It’s a good thing that you ultimately did not choose the path of killing him, as he likely would have proven much more difficult than any other target. If you had attempted to take his life and it failed, you could only imagine how frightful the king would become in his rage at your betrayal. The mere thought made you shudder.

It wasn’t easy to focus when he was directly behind you, his chest practically against your back as he continued reading over your shoulder. “Not you… I was considering this for the prince. I believe that I’m the only one that can stomach handling this, not the huntsman.” 

“Interesting… and why did you choose the poison apple?” To think that the beautiful man that currently had his chin on your shoulder, would probably be an wretched old peddler with wrinkled skin and hair white as snow, if the story had stayed on course. It was plausible that the beautiful queen turning herself ugly just to kill her rival was an analogy of sorts for the hideousness of her personality. And yet, when the king who was based on that very character was in your presence, yes he was vile and cruel but he was rather fair to you. Especially when he expressed a sort of tenderness in his smile and looked down at you through his long lashes. 

“It’s a special sort of death.” Upon reading through most of the pages of the thick leather tome, you discovered that a huge majority of the deadly spells had antidotes and ways to be reversed. Many were easy to reverse, some were harder, but the most difficult antidote to receive was for those that ate the poisoned apple. It was no wonder the evil queen originally chose it, as it was only by chance that the prince awoke the princess with true love’s first kiss. “Not easy to find an antidote for.” 

“Hm…” His head continued to linger on your shoulder, his lips and part of his nose buried by the cloth on your shoulder as his watchful gaze remained stuck on you through his half-lidded eyes. At such a close proximity with his face literally inches from yours, you didn’t dare turn your head, but in your peripheral vision you could make out the black mascara and smokey light eyeshadow that accentuated his fine features. Even without the use of makeup, he was sure to be stunning. “As expected, you dally away precious time. However, there’s a princess…” 

“So I’ve heard.” Your response was careful, as this conversation was quickly approaching dangerous territory. From what was told to you by Epel, after the princess arrived, Vil summoned Neige to speak about it when the young oblivious prince admitted he loved someone within the palace. Vil knew who, you knew. As this conversation progressed, you would have to choose your words carefully. It would be like walking in a minefield. 

It started, you realized, as his fond gaze slowly shifted to something a little more cold. While you couldn’t see his mouth due to the position he was in, you guessed he wasn’t smiling lightly in content and intrigue like before. “Then I assume you know of the prince’s… let’s call it, an insignificant crush.” 

“Yes…” A crush may not be the term Neige would have preferred. The prince would have likely used flowery language akin to the type seen in romantic novels read in the middle ages. But you weren’t going to fret over the small details. Stoically you replied, “If you desire it done, I can be rid of both the prince and princess. An apple for the prince, and a jail cell for the princess.” 

Vil raised a carefully plucked blonde eyebrow, his careful vigilance turning to astonished curiousness as he connected the dots with the clues given by your words. He seemed to understand, and take delight in your response as he nodded against your shoulder. “This is why you’re my favorite.” 

Averting your gaze down to the parchment paper in the tome, you placed your palm against the surface and read off ingredients that were needed. None of which you understood. Not that you would even attempt making something so potent. In the middle of your reading, you felt arms snake around your waist, rendering you motionless as if being paralyzed by some other poison he could’ve used. 

By your ear you felt his warm breath, and his arms were surprisingly strong as he held you tightly, preventing you from going anywhere. The words he spoke in his feathery voice felt like they tickled the side of your neck and caused a shiver to go down your spine. Was it fear or was it pleasure? “… You could finally use those funeral preparations you made in advance.”

“True… This type of poison could be made with ease by me, it merely requires patience as the brew seeps through the simmering apple. It will take some hours. There are many different poisons, but one of this caliber that requires magic is most lethal. And yet, it looks so delicious. Entrancing and deadly, my favorite combination.” One of his hands roamed up to your neck, his well-manicured nails and soft fingers casually resting on your throat. There was this creeping feeling that he wasn’t talking about the poisoned apple anymore. Externally you remained cool and level-headed, but internally you felt your breath still in that moment as your heart picked up speed. And it was like he saw all these signs on you, reading you like an open book. “The breath will still, the heart will beat rapidly in those final moments…” 

You know he didn’t poison you, but it felt as if you were sick with something that was worse than poison. You shifted in place, keeping your breathing even. Never once have you prepared for a situation like this. Removing your hands from the tome, you lowered them over his knuckle, one of his own hands still around your waist like a belt. The intention was to attempt to pry off his hands, at least, that’s what you think you were trying to accomplish, but Vil took it as an invitation to continue. 

A hum like a purr came from him as he moved his head closer, so his lips were practically at the exposed flesh of your neck. And yet, he didn’t move. You remained as still as a statue, while he murmured in a quiet and confident tone that slowly morphed into something pleading and desperate. “Nevermore will you, my previous retainer, have to stray from me again. Once he is gone, everything will be made right. There will be none left worthy of your companionship, except for me. I will be your sole companion. So do not leave…” 

You felt a tremor throughout your body as he placed a lingering kiss against your neck, his soft lips by your jaw before he pulled away. Not even far enough so you could see his face, he only moved his head away an inch, as if even the thought of being physically apart right now was too much to bear. 

His arms around your torso tightened, and your back was pressed flush against his chest. His voice was low and intoxicating, this was dangerous. “For now, you’ll assist me in making the poisoned apple. While we wait a few hours for it to simmer and absorb the toxic qualities in the cauldron, we’ll be spending some… quality time together, my pet.”

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

The next morning, you awoke slowly, feeling groggy and tired, until everything came rushing back and you sat upright in alarm. You were in the familiar bedroom that once belonged to the retainer you replaced. However, there was a slight warmth on the other half of the mattress, as if someone had just been laying beside you and left not too long ago. 

On the wall as you sat up, you could see your reflection in the mirror, the messy bedhead and tired looking eyes, but also the slightest traces of red lipstick stains on your neck and across parts of your face. 

You had zero time to process what had happened before you spotted the shiny red apple on the counter with a small note beside it. The note simply read, For your mission. Wash your face once you wake up.

It took almost no time at all to get dressed and prepared, and wash your face. By now, Epel should already be speaking to the princess, advising her to attempt to appeal to the prince by picking fruit from the garden and gifting it to the royal she loved. Your task now was to simply add the poisoned apple when no one was looking. 

As you opened the door, you noticed a shadow and quickly hid the apple in a pocket of your long black cloak, just as familiar blonde locks and forest green eyes came into view. You closed the door behind you, as you were greeted by a welcoming smiling and that accented voice that bid good morning. 

“Ah, petit corbeau! What a fine day, isn’t it?” Immediately your gaze went to his expression and his hands, your ears keenly listening to his tone of voice. It didn’t appear as if he were hiding anything. There was no somberness to his voice, no frown on his face, and no red staining his hands. Although, the good killers always washed their hands clean of the evidence. 

For now, you don’t bother asking why he was outside of your room. Knowing Rook, he’d probably say some flattering words with an unsettling meaning hidden within his ornate speech. Right now, you would much rather not have to dwell on that for too long when a royal was to die soon. For now, all you do is remind him of your previous words towards him, “You couldn’t do it. So, knowing you somehow overheard what’s to happen today, is this your attempt to stop me?” You were quiet, making sure not to be overheard, only so he could hear your warning and see your cold gaze. “Know that if you try to stop me, that will be a form of treason against His Majesty.” 

That smile turned into a more bleak one, as he struggled to keep up the corners of his lips. He knew what was to happen, of course he did. It was as he said, he knew everything that transpired within the palace grounds. “Ah, I would love to see the raven ruffled up.” He joked lightly before adding in a more serious tone, “Ravens are most commonly associated with bringing the unfortunate news of a passing. As much as I dream of seeing you in your element, I just wish it wasn’t… him. I’d much rather it be me than him, even if being the victim was the only way to catch a glimpse into your true nature and to have your attention solely focused on me.” 

You leered at him, deciding not to take out your blade. Rook was a weirdo, but he most certainly wasn’t a killer. You couldn’t imagine him outright attacking you, even now as he knew that the beloved prince would die either way. “I’ll cut you down too if you get in my way.” 

Unexpectedly, Rook removed his hat and held it to his chest. He gazed at you like how an artist would admire the treasured painting of the beautiful Mona Lisa, as he bowed his head to you, exposing the back of his neck as his blonde hair shifted with his movement. “From you? I would consider it the greatest honor bestowed on me.” 

You merely moved around him, your cloak brushing past him. Even after Neige was dead, Rook would be cause for concern. But you would worry about him then, right now you had an apple in your cloak, a princess to frame, and a prince to assassinate. 

As it turned out, planting the ripe red apple at the top of the basket was the easiest part. It was simple, when the princess had left the basket of freshly picked fruits unattended. Perhaps the worst part was waiting. Waiting to hear when it would happen, when the prince would take that bite that would seal his fate. Part of you wondered if he might dream of you. Afterall, he seemed to have this idealized version of you in his head. So it was possible, but it’s not like you would ever know. 

For now, you appeared as you were told when you were later summoned by the king to the gardens where you emerged after exiting the undercroft on your first day here. Now, you were currently strolling through the private gardens of the palace grounds together, as if you hadn’t both planned murder. Any moment now, you expected a servant to come rushing, the palace would be overrun with commotion once the poisoned apple was consumed. If there were any remnants of the fruit left, you had instructed Epel to dispose of it in the midst of the chaos when no one would notice. 

But right now, it was quiet. A peaceful tranquil quiet, where you could look up at the sky and sun and feel its warmth. One where you were free. Even if you could never return home, perhaps living in this world was better. Should you ever need to, you could always escape the beautiful king. But this was a plan you would keep to yourself. 

Vil remained beside you, looking as elegant as ever with his robes and crown perched atop his skull. Like a peacock promenading in the yards of a private estate. There was one thing that confused you in this story. As angelic as Neige was, and as rotten as the king’s personality might have been, the mirror must’ve been blind if it insisted that Vil was not the fairest of them all. 

The King looked over at you, a pretty smile adorning his face when he saw your eyes on him, just as he liked it. Keeping his hands folded in front of him, the pair stopped beside the well. Since he had dismissed his guards to be alone with you, there was no one else to hear or see what went on between you and him. Those amethyst eyes were no longer so chilling but still more than enough to put you on the edge. “Tell me, my dear, how long were you planning to keep me in the dark?” 

You remained still, confused at his words. What was this about? He seemed content, but what did he mean by this? There was a sneaking suspicion and fear in the back of your mind, but you played it cool as you leaned on the well with your arms on the smooth rocky edge. “I’m not sure what you mean, Your Majesty.” 

A brief chuckle came from him as he reached over, his thumb rubbing against your cheek and his fingers grazing along your jaw. “You’re amusing.” Abruptly, faster than you can anticipate it, you felt a sharp edge against your throat, not piercing flesh but close enough that you had to tilt your head upwards to avoid being cut. It was a knife. 

Your breath hitched. You made no sudden movements, no reaching for your own blade or trying to grab his wrist, because in a single instance he could end you now and that would be the end to your story. Everything you did to get here and set up a decent life, would be utterly useless if you were dead. Taking a deep breath, you purse your lips before holding up your hands to show you had nothing to strike back. “What are you doing, Your Majesty? After everything I did to assist you?” 

The knife was small, compact, decorated with small jewels as shiny as it was sharp. It was small enough to easily be hidden in his robes, but honed enough to easily end you here just as the judges intended for you to go out. “You were useful, but… when it’s just me and my retainer, my trusted retainer refers to me as Vil not Your Majesty.” 

You felt your blood run cold. He knew, this entire time? From the moment you encountered him, did he realize by your use of formalities, or did he figure it out sometime afterward? You’d been played. 

A knowing smile graced his lips once he took in your shock, one of the first clear expressions on your face in so long. Normally you were so composed, it felt like an accomplishment to break that poised demeanor, to see the horror dawn on your face as you were reminded of the judgment that had been cast, of the hell you were in that was veiled by gorgeous folk and the chance at a free life.

Just as you squeezed your eyes shut and winced, anticipating the feeling of the blade running through your throat, there was a shriek. A shrill shriek from a woman, the sound sent a chill running down your spine and raised goosebumps on your skin. You anticipated the red spilling from your own neck, but there wasn’t a drop.

The knife was removed from your skin as Vil hummed, not really paying attention to the distant sound of servants scrambling to check on the source of the sound that must’ve come up from one of the upper floors of the palace. “It appears like it’s finally happened.” 

There was no need for further explanation to understand what he meant. The scream must’ve come from the princess who witnessed Prince Neige collapse after taking a bite of the apple. In seconds, guards of the palace will arrive at the crime scene, they’ll see the beloved prince trapped in a sleeping death on the ground and the princess beside him will be the only culprit. It’s done… And yet now, you now had to grapple with Vil knowing you were not who you pretended to be this entire time. 

“I didn’t know you were close.” The raven should’ve been apprehensive of the evil queen that tormented them. Were you wrong? Was their shared history different from the tale? 

“I lied. Please, I’m no imbecile. I think it’s a bit rude that you never properly introduced yourself, but I forgive you considering the unique circumstances.” Expertly he twirled the dagger between his long fingers, while he didn’t even have to focus on his hand to do so. The entire time he stared at you, a smile on his curved lips. “Did you think me a fool that I could be so easily tricked? I had known them for several years, but I must admit, I like you better.” His left arm was crossed over his torso, propping up the right arm that held the knife and casually pointed it at you. “All they did in recent years was hole themself up in the undercroft, but you, you’re plucky, brave, funny too.”

You felt partially numb. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go–– Everything was going so perfect! Why did he have to know? Was it too late to escape? Could you try and run now that things were turning south, or was it worth staying? Judging by the look in the king’s eyes, staying was likely not the best idea. A caged raven was not a happy one. 

“If you’re honest to me, I’m honest to you. I only tricked you, because you foolishly believed yourself to be playing me this entire time, hm? Don’t mistake my intentions though, because I am fond of you. All those sweet words, whispered promises, and love I gave you was all real.” The tip of the dagger was against your chin, and the beautiful blonde king peered down at you through his lashes. Raising the fingers of his freehand, he lightly traced his sharp nails over the side of your face. The next words came in a quiet voice, stern and serious, vaguely threatening but also with the promise of sweetness. 

“However, I don’t appreciate the idea of you flying away. Fret not. You’ll be well taken care of, and loved more than any little prince with a crush could love you… You wanted him dead, isn’t that so? Well, we killed him. There is nothing more for you to be afraid of. So now, I want you to tell me about where you come from, why you wanted him dead, and what you wish for. No matter what you desire, I will see to it that you have it so long as you remain by my side permanently. Reintroduce yourself, from the top, my Darling Retainer.”

[chaos-in-deepspace]

L&DS Boys: Suspected Smut | 18+

Eeeeeeey my first written request for this blog homies! The request was asking for a scenario with the boys where they walk in on the reader either reading or writing a smutty novel that's based off their myths. Also make it crack. So here we go. I'm going to post a small, separate one later that has a Zayne attempt (had to write his twice) since I managed to make it slightly angsty somehow and it was such a stark contrast when read with the other two boys.

♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Warnings: Erotica Novels, Teasing, Crack Treated Seriously, Suggestive Scenarios, Mentions of Monster Fucking, Dark Romance Mentions, Reader ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Pairings: Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Xavier x Reader

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

“What are you reading?” The voice made you scream as you slammed the book you had out shut. Your heart racing as you turned to Xavier in shock. He seemed just as surprised as you, his eyes now wide as though he had been the one caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Words.” You said with a shrug. Now Xavier was curious, trying to see what you were reading. You hid the book behind your back and cleared your throat, “Seriously, it’s nothing important.” You tried convincing him.

He stared at you for a minute longer, then his posture relaxed. “If you really don’t wish to tell me, I won’t pressure you.” Xavier looked away dejectedly and oh goodness does it make you feel bad when you see him like that. Those pouty little eyes of his made your heart beat without fail, and they were now trained on the floor as he was prepared to leave you alone.

You let out the longest, most annoyed groan as you took the book out again. Xavier perked up, looking to see what it was. He read the title “A Luminous Lover”, his face was confused as he flipped it around to read the description. As his eyes skimmed the back recognition seemed to finally cross him.

Xavier turned to you, “Are you reading a romance novel involving Lumiere?” He said and you sighed, glad that the back of the book didn’t have anything too explicit on it. 

You sucked in your lips and nodded your head, “Ya, ya I am.” Your voice cracked a bit as you said this. Xavier seemed to be perplexed, his eyes shining in confusion and hurt. You then watched in horror as he opened the book up to read a bit.

He opened it to a random page, however with the contents of the book you just knew there was a 50/50 chance he’d see it. With how his eyes widened and mouth opened slightly, you knew he had found a scene, “You’re reading an…erotic novel about Lumiere.” He corrected himself.

You let out another groan, “Fuck, fine, yes I am.” You said, going to grab the book, “You can’t blame me for wanting to be railed by Lumiere on a rooftop while he tells me how I’m being so good for him and absolutely destroying me until all I can do it moan is name several times and cry while looking at the stars because it feels so good!” You said all in one breath, panting at the end of your long sentence.

Xavier stood shocked for a moment before smirking, “Then why read a book about it?” He asked, his eyebrow going up as he looked down at you, “You have something better at home, there’s no need to read this.”

You whined a bit, “But consider some of these things are downright impossible or…not plausible I should say. Things that can only happen or are acceptable in a novel like this.” You tried explaining. You managed to finally snatch the book from him and held it to your chest.

“We won’t know if it’s impossible until we try.” Xavier said, his hand ghosting over your waist now.

“You gonna put on the Lumiere costume?” You finally asked and he seemed to be almost offended.

“You'd rather be in Lumiere’s bed?” He asked, looking away.

“Xavier, you adorable dork, you are Lumiere.” You huffed, “And it’s called roleplaying. You’d be playing the role of Lumiere, and I’d be playing the role of a whore who worships your dick. Sound good?”

Xavier took a moment and just shook his head, “You truly are something else, starlight.” He said as he pulled you closer, “I won’t put on the costume, however if you’d like to be railed on a rooftop while staring up at the stars, I’d be more than happy to make that fantasy come true.” He said, leaning closer to you. You let out a small whimper as his mouth pressed a kiss against your neck.

“Fine…but later tonight. I wanna finish this chapter.” You said and Xavier huffed. He grabbed the book out of your hand and you watched in horror as he tossed it.

“No, perhaps I should give you a preview of tonight. It’ll be far more enjoyable than a book.” Xavier grumbled. Oh you adored this man, even if he did get jealous of himself in book form.

Zayne

“Might I ask what you’re writing, my beloved?” You paused for a moment at hearing his words, your head slowly turning to him. Your laptop was on the bed while you sprawled out, typing away like you didn’t have a care in the world. Your now wide eyes stared at your boyfriend, who had clearly been reading what was on your screen.

“Well…you see.” You started before realizing something, “Okay ya I have no defense for this. You’re not allowed to judge me though. You love me.” You pointed at him sternly then looked back at your writing. You went to close your laptop, but Zayne’s hand prevented that.

“You never answered my question.” He said and you groaned, wanting to crawl into a hole and die. You looked at him with a small pout, hoping he would give up questioning you. It didn’t work this time as he waited for an explanation.

You let out an annoyed groan, “Okay so like…I had an idea about a serial killer, but like he’s a good guy who dresses in all black and like kills for a good cause. And uuuuuh…” You said, thinking about what had initially sparked this. You had seen a yandere in a show and you had thought ‘But what if Zayne?’ which led to you writing this. The main character was based on Zayne, clearly. Hopefully he didn’t catch onto that though.

“And all that led to…this scene on your screen?” Zayne said, motioning to your writing. Honestly you hadn’t even gotten to the steamiest part yet. You had only started your debauched writing.

“Okay maybe I wanna get railed by a man who’s a lil scary and not very expressive but also will kill if someone looks at me wrong. It’s just a fantasy. If it were real life no way in hell would this be fine, but the thought of a hot man breaking into my window and then fucking me into the mattress is just so…sexy…” You trailed off from your rambles, looking at Zayne then to the floor.

Your dear boyfriend, in his defense, managed to recover from your small confession pretty fast as he looked at you. “That’s truly what goes through your head?” He finally asked and you swallowed a lump in your throat.

“I mean…sometimes…” You finally said. You noticed there was a conflicted look in Zayne’s eyes, almost like he was realizing something in the deep recess of his mind. He just shook his head, shoving whatever thoughts or memories he had as he approached you.

“And this type of situation, you’d only ever want it in a fantasy setting, correct?” He asks, as though making sure there was some semblance of sanity left in you.

“Obviously. If someone actually broke through my window I’m waking you up to deal with them.” You said, crossing your arms. You could see the small, subtle twitch of a smile on Zayne’s face.

“Even if in the fantasy I’m the one breaking through the window?” He asked and you paused. You looked at him suspiciously.

“Why would you think it was…you I was writing about?” You murmured. Zayne walked over to you, pinning you in place by putting his hands on either side of your thighs as he leaned in.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you that you named the male lead after me. I can see my name on your screen.” He paused, “Along with other things.” He said and you didn’t know if you should feel bashful or turned on at the moment…perhaps both.

“Well,” You cleared your throat, “since you know.” another quick pause as you fluttered your eyelashes, “Hey Zayne, I’m having some trouble writing this scene.” You said, trying to give him a cutesy expression.

“And?” He murmured, getting closer to you.

“Think you could give me a helping hand at…testing out a few positions and kinks to see if they’d work. For inspiration of course.” You said, your hands trailing his shirt until they got to his tie. You played with it as you looked at him with needy eyes.

“Thought you said they were only good for fantasies, why would you want to play out a scene?” He teased and you chuckled.

“Well sir, perhaps some things don’t have to remain a fantasy.” You said, tilting your head. You gasped as you felt Zayne’s lips on yours, pressing closer but before he could leave you breathless, Zayne parted.

“I do apologize, I have something important I need to do.” He said and you huffed, feeling like you got doused in cold water suddenly. There was always something.

“What do you need to do?” You bitterly said, pouting at you gave him a half assed glare.

“I need to call a psychologist for you, snowflake.”

You paused, gathering your thoughts but there were none, “Um why?”

“Because I’m fairly certain you need help psychologically. You realize you shouldn’t be placing guns-” You cut Zayne off by covering his mouth.

“I hate you…” You muttered. You felt his lips kissing the palm of your hand with amusement swimming behind those hazel eyes.

“And I adore you…most of the time.”

Rafayel

You almost screamed when you felt cool, wet lips kissing the back of your neck. You clutched your phone to your chest, your cheeks warm as you looked behind you to see Rafayel. He was smirking, looking you over; he was clearly proud at having startled you.

“Raf…” You warned, but the man in question just threw his hands up in mock surrender.

“I do apologize, my dear bodyguard, but I feel like you shouldn’t be so distracted when you have a job to do. If I was able to sneak up on you, imagine what could happen to me.” He said, placing a hand over his chest.

“Rafayel, we are in your art studio. In the middle of the day, no less.” You point out, “I think you’re safe.”

“You never know, what if someone breaks in and kidnaps me while your nose is in your phone?” He was pouting as he then looked at said object being clutched to your chest, “What ended up distracting you? It wouldn’t be anything naughty, now would it? The blush on your cheeks are telling.” Now he was just teasing you.

“It’s important stuff…research if you will.” You said and now he seemed even more intrigued.

“What are you researching?” He asked and you bit back a blush, willing your body and the gods to help it go away. 

“Stuff.” You murmured. This wasn’t doing it for Rafayel as he looked down at you with a frown.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just assume you were up to no good.” He said, leaning closer to you, “The only way to prove your innocence is to tell me, my pearl.”

You let out a groan and averted your eyes; you didn’t want this man to see the guilty admission in them. After all, your fish boy was right. You were up to no good, reading ‘naughty things’ as he so eloquently put it. Apparently you were silent for a moment too long though, because you felt his hands trailing up your sides and under your shirt.

Before you could ask him what he was doing, he pinched your hips hard. You let out a yelp, and at the moment the grip on your phone loosened enough for Rafayel to steal it from you. When you saw it, you flushed and tried to swipe it back, “Rafayel, you bastard man, give that back!” You hissed.

Sadly the man knew your password and he was soon looking at exactly what you were reading. A small story about a sea god…that happened to be extremely explicit with some monster elements to it. Rafayel’s face went from curiosity to burning red in an instant.

“You were reading naughty things!” He accused; you let out a groan, trying again to swipe your phone back. He wasn’t done though as he continued, “Wait…is that even possible? And he only has one? Now this certainly isn’t lore accurate.” He teased with a large, toothy grin.

“Rafayel, stop teasing me. Am I not mortified enough?” You said before pausing, “Wait…what do you mean he only has one?” You said and Rafayel seemed to realize his mistake. His eyes widened and he sucked in his lips for a moment as he tried to think of a way out of this.

“Raffie, do you have two dicks in your other form?” You said, your eyes twinkling. You guys hadn’t slept together while he was like that since it was such a rare treat for you to even view his other form. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Wait, you’re into that?” Rafayel finally asked after realizing what you said.

“Babes, if I knew I could be a double stuffed oreo with you, I would’ve been begging you to take me in your fish form more so than I already do.” You said, not bothering to stop your language. Rafayel choked on air at your confession and tried to regain himself.

“Double stuffed oreo?” He echoed, “I don’t think I have ever heard someone say that in such an unsexy way.” 

“Is that a challenge?”

“No, it absolutely isn’t…wait, so were you researching…” He began but you were already willing to give him an answer.

“Wanted to figure out what positions might work best, so I was researching. Plus the male lead described in this book sounds like you so it was pretty easy to put myself in the place of the main character…which by the way do you think you could fuck me in the ocean while doing the little mermaid rock pose and calling me a-”

“That’s enough.” He said, and noticed you attempted to speak once more, “Ah ah ah.” He chided, “Not. A. Single.” He leaned closer, “Word.”

To which you replied with a moan.

I hope you guys enjoyed this! It's dumb and fun! I enjoyed writing it (tbh I've been wanting to write it but gah so many things to write, so little time)

[izzabela]

Can I request bi han x fem reader.

Reader is sent on a mission in Russia and bi han misses her,sektor tells him to get a phone so it'll be easy to communicate and y/n introduces him to phone sex and they have phone sex.

New Things - Bi Han x fem!reader

in which you introduce Bi Han to something new while away on a mission

a/n: Bi Han with a phone is a crazy idea- i like it

ship[s]: bi han x fem!reader

warning(s): MDNI, porn with semi-plot, phone sex, f!reader = f!genitalia, masturbation, dirty talk, degradation, post-kanon story

"He- Hel- Hello? Bi Han?" you voice called, breaking slightly over the phone.

Bi Han put the device close to his ear, your voice finally patching through his phone. He smiles, the only witnesses of this soft act being the walls of his bedroom. He coughs before answering you.

"I can hear you, darling," he responds. "How do you find Russia? Have you eaten yet? Is the mission going well?"

You chuckle at the onslaught of questions, "Cold, but not as cold as home, yes I ate already, and the mission is going decent."

Bi Han sighs, "Good, I am glad you are alright."

Bi Han originally didn't have a phone, hell he was opposed to such devices. He caved after you were gone for a mission a couple months back, and the letter he wrote you was intercepted by the enemy. It was also Sektor's idea, he even accompanied Bi Han in choosing one.

Now, here he was, talking to you over the phone while you were oceans away. Elder gods, what a sight to behold, the grandmaster using technology.

"And you, my dear, is there anything to note back home?" you ask. Bi Han groans as he relays the struggles you were missing out on.

From setbacks to the coding of the cyber-ninjas, to even more dreadful losses with this brotherly war, Bi Han was having a hard time dealing with these setbacks. It was uncharacteristic of him, since he's usually more calculated and put together.

"You sound stressed, my dear," you mention, twirling your hair as get in the bed of the hotel you were staying in. You hear Bi Han sigh over your end of the phone.

"You are greatly missed here, none more so than by me," Bi Han says softly, and you coo at the vulnerability he displayed.

"I also wish I were home," you respond solemnly. It's quiet over the line, the light breathing filling the silence.

That is, until a light bulb is lit in your mind. It's a little risky, but it isn't entirely a bad thing. Just to blow off some steam.

"Darling, would you like to relax?" you ask, but Bi Han is perplexed as he answers you.

"I am unwinding just fine with you on the phone."

You tut him, clicking your tongue as you clarify yourself. Apparently, subtly in words was not his strongest trait.

"Would you like try phone sex?" you blurt out. It's quiet on your end, Bi Han not saying a thing for a couple of beats.

"...What exactly is that?" he asks, his voice sounding lost and confused. You then explain that it would just be them on the phone, whispering dirty things about themselves as they touched themselves rather inappropriately.

TLDR, a horny way to unwind the stress of missing each other.

"I see," is all Bi Han says. "I do not know how to start, though."

You chuckle, "Remaining ever so honest, grandmaster. Do not be worried, though, I can lead us."

You strip down into nothing, putting your phone on speaker as you lay comfortably in your bed. Bi Han still remains in his sleepwear, but he can see that his member is growing erect as the minutes pass.

"For starters, it must feel rather lonely in bed without me," you begin, your voice a little breathy. Bi Han sighs, palming his growing erection as he responds.

"It is, it pains me that you are so far. I cannot hold nor touch you." Bi Han sets his phone down after indulging you, on speaker mode as well so he has... a better range of motion.

"I have only my thoughts to keep me company," you admit, slowly rolling your breasts in your hands.

"Do tell me what you think about when I am not present," Bi Han eggs you with a teasing voice.

"I, uh," you stutter. "I think of how you tease nipples. Your fingers always squeeze them the way I like." Bi Han groans a bit.

"Touch them as I do, then," he tells you, palming his rock-hard dick. "To let you know, I miss the way you stroke me, my dear."

Bi Han gave up on his pants and boxers. His dick was hard and free from its fabric prison, and he was going in constant strokes to mimic the way you did. Bi Han grunts as he touches himself, pumping his dick in his fist as he heard your breath over the phone.

If the wetness between your legs were relayed to a leaky pipe, you were practically bursting at this point. You moan at the though of his hand pumping his cock, trying to emulate your touch. It filled you with pride knowing you left such an impression on him.

You reach down in between your legs, rubbing the wet folds as you imagine your fingers as Bi Han's length. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but it slips through and Bi Han catches your poor attempt of hiding your voice.

"Do not be shy, my darling," Bi Han says breathlessly. "Let me hear you. Touching yourself as you think of me, in and out of your tightness."

Bi Han was getting into it now. Still keeping his constant strokes, he imagines your body on top of him. Visages of your perky nips in his face, your voice bouncing off the walls of the shared room. He can imagine the marks on his back, a great side effect on how well he dicks you down.

For you, you stuck a finger in your wet cunt. Just like Bi Han, you pump the digit in and out of you at a good speed. It hits your good spot perfectly, and the moans you had been so desperate to hide come through and enter Bi Han's ear. He's smirking, and he pumps a little faster.

"Can you hear that? Though you are so far, you still manage to please me," Bi Han's voice is sultry and deep, praising you a job well done (so far).

"Are you this degenerate when you are away?" Bi Han's tone shifts, and it shocks you a little bit. "Touching yourself, desperate to relieve yourself- disgusting."

By the elder gods, he was really leaning into this phone sex business. As much as you want to deny it, you can't help but moan and agree with his degradation of you. Yes, you missed him. Yes, you touched yourself on those occasions where the longing was too much.

You stop yourself and add another finger inside yourself, curling it slightly to hit your g-spot even better. You moan louder, and Bi Han takes it as a sign to go faster in his fist. He's grunting a little louder, and through your ecstasy you can hear a couple of shaky exhales of his breath.

"By the gods, I can just imagine it," Bi Han says breathlessly. "Your fingers won't be enough, not when I have marked you, molded you... made you mine."

You gasp at how dirty his words have become. Gods, he was immersed, and your bodily response was to get even more wet. Practically soaking the sheets underneath you, you respond to the claims Bi Han was acclaiming.

"Yes grandmaster! You've molded me so well- I am yours wholly!"

As you keep pumping yourself, your hand that was previously on your tit is on your pleasuring yourself two-fold as you focus on reaching your high. Bi Han is huffing and puffing now, his hand going up and down as he also chases his peak.

"Very good. Keep the thought of my length as you come," Bi Han says. "Your warmth is all I can think about- I even squeeze my fist to think of how you squeeze around me."

The mention of it makes you squeeze around your fingers, and that was the last sensory necessity for you to zone in on cumming. The feeling of your fingers rubbing your clit, your other fingers going in and out of your tight cunt, and the gentle squeeze to give you more friction, it's sending you over the edge.

Bi Han has a gentle tightness around his cock. He's trying to imagine you squeezing around him, and it works as he can feel his high coming. The thoughts of your body bouncing up and down his cock, your moans ringing in his ears, and the little squelches he can hear from the speaker, send Bi Han into overdrive.

"B-Bi Han!" you cry out. "I- oh gods, I'm close!" Bi Han just grunts in response, muttering under his breath as he's about to peak.

"Bi Han!" you cry out, literally squeaking as your legs twitch and shake as your body begins to relax from your climax. You're breathless, hands damp with your slick, and your body dripping with sweat.

Bi Han also climaxes, calling your name as strings of translucent white coming out. They land on his lower stomach and thighs. His chest heaves up and down, yearning for air as he comes down from his high. He's sticky with sweat, extra sticky near his penile area, and his hand has a bit of his own slickness too.

He reaches for a tissue on his nightstand, and you do the same on the other side of the world. Over the phone, Bi Han can hear you shift on the bed, putting your clothes on and shuffling around the room to clean up. Bi Han is wrapping up his own clean-up operations, putting his clothes on before settling into bed.

"Bi Han darling?" you call for him through the phone. "Are you there?"

Bi Han grabs his phone, "Yes I am." It's a bit quiet before he speaks again. "Did you enjoy?"

You laugh heartily, "Of course! Who knew you were really good at this, my darling~" you drag out the "ing" sound, and he chuckles at your antics.

"Thank you for introducing this to me," he says, calling your name softly. Your face warms, and you can't tell if it's from the warmth of your phone.

"You're welcome, Bi Han. Perhaps we can do this again when I have more time," you offer.

"Finish up the mission, and we won't need to do this over the phone." That's all Bi Han says before he drops an "I love you" and hangs up.

The call drops, and you sleep with motivation to come home.

=====================

phone sex is... odd, but i did finish it. i hope you liked it anon!

still finishing up all my reqs, let's see if i can do it before school starts for me

see yall in the next fic!

[krispycreamcake]

Diabolik lovers x reader (various)

Guys don't bully me this is my first post istg i'll bomb your family

A symphony of explosions ruptured through the sky as the angels above blew their mighty vessels of war. Forks of lightning licked through the heavens, warning those near and far of the impending eruption soon to blast their ear drums. The cascading shower hydrated the manor's old stone walls, grasping at whatever cracks they could get into, only to slip away from the house's embrace at the last second. The moon nor its many luminous companions could be seen as their everlasting beauty was hidden behind storm clouds. A whirlwind soon picked up, shaking the trees like a damned mad woman, soon to be lobotomized. Amidst all this eternal chaos however, was a girl simply trying to survive. She was just dropped off at a glorious mansion that ironically, seemed to hold a sort of deathly allure to it, despite it being right out of a romance novel. She was currently sitting on a royal blue sofa of the finest quality, a strange and perplexed looking man with spectacles adorned the couch opposite her. He had raven black and white ombre hair. Regardless of their contrasting colours, it seemed to take well on him. He gave off a sophisticated but yet also suffocating aura that seemed to envelop the entire room. He looked at you in a bit of a shock after hearing your story, no matter how hard he tried to remain stoic, the words you spoke completely baffled him.

"Would you please further elaborate on what you mean by 'caretaker'?" The man asked, the words barely leaving his tongue.

"Well uhm, like I said, I'll be staying here until an heir to the Sakamaki name is made and then I'll be their caretaker. Mr. Karlheinz specified that he'd prefer I raise the child because well.... He didn't technically state WHY I'm supposed to basically mother your child, besides I-I mean you seem perfectly capable! It's just that, well that's what I was sent here to do". You said, trying to explain your task as quickly as possible. You couldn't pinpoint why, but an urge to leave planted itself in your gut and you felt the need to end this interaction as soon as possible.

The man stayed silent for a second before humming out an acknowledgement to your statement. The air was tense as he stood up and spoke.

"Well then, I'm not sure why we weren't aware of something like this, however, let me be the first to greet you to the Sakamaki manor y/n." Just as he said that, a young man with a head of scorching flames entered. His appearance was tattered and unruly. A pant leg was up, while the other remained down, his shirt wasn't fully buttoned and his tie was worn tied around his neck like some sort of odd fashion statement. As soon as his emerald eyes locked onto yours, a smirk creeped its way onto his face.

"Oi Reiji, you didn't say nothin about us having a guest over." The boy spoke, his voice gnarled and sharp.

"I was unaware of her arrival, that man apparently sent us a.....babysitter." Reiji sighed at the end, his imminent frustration growing.

"Uh no no- it's not like that! I'm just here to take care of your child..well future child. I didn't know you had a brother though, Reiji.." You piped in, your brows knitting in a slight confusion as you weren't informed of Karl having more than one son. You originally thought that his son and daughter-in-law were too busy to take care of a child, so that's why you agreed to this whole thing. But now that you were thinking about it, where exactly was the girl? Your thoughts were interrupted as the ruby haired boy let out a mocking snort.

"You mean to tell me that the old man didn't mention there being six of us? pfft- hah!" The boy spoke. Your heart almost plummeted into your ass as your mind slowly processed his words. Six??? There were six of them?

"Yes I'll have to agree with Ayato. It's odd that man didn't mention there's six of us." Reiji said as he fixed his glasses. "Well in that case, it seems an introduction should be made as soon as possible." As he finished speaking, a slight gush of wind hit you from all different angles. Suddenly four more men appeared out of what seemed to be thin air. They watched you coldly despite them all seeming to have different personalities. Silently judging you...no- not judging, but instead sizing you up. You've been in this situation enough times to know what men's stares mean, and these men wanted nothing good. The boy with purple hair spoke first.

"Teddy- what do you think of our new plaything? Doesn't she look lovely? I wonder what she tastes like, certainly not as good as Yui, but I'd still like to try." For the third time tonight you felt like you could scream. He wasn't being serious was he? This has to be some sort of persona, why would he even say that?? You inched behind Reiji, hoping the man could provide some form of shelter.

"Tsk. Go on and introduce yourself, or do I need to do that for you as well? Hiding behind me like a coward, slinking away the minute things seem to get too troublesome for you....honestly I have no idea why you were selected to come here in the first place. What does that man even see in you?" Reiji said with a scoff, his cold words leaving a shiver down your spine and a dent in your self esteem. You felt embarrassed as you sheepishly crawled away from Reiji to introduce yourself.

Once formalities were finally over with a few weird remark here and there, you were shown to your room. It was quite large, but you expected nothing less after seeing the size of the mansion. Truthfully, you were hoping to have a nice room this entire time. A dome glass ceiling sat right in the middle of the room, illuminating it with a blueish hue. The positioning of the bed was a bit odd, yet it captivated those who were to occupy in the residence. It was a circular bed that was laid with golden satin sheets and a marble platform which held up the delicate mattress. It stood right under the dome which would serve for lovely stargazing. There were many fine intricacies and details done to the bed's platform which made it seem much more compelling than a regular bed. The room was oddly laden with bookshelves and hanging plants. This seemed to soften up the room's regality and tone it down for someone of a more modern time. But you admitted that you wouldn't of mind sleeping in a princess like bedroom. Once you were done unpacking, you made your way downstairs since no one would be up at this hour. Instead, you were met with all brothers and a young blonde. She was delicately beautiful like a rose garden after a storm. You could feel her personality seep through from her meek behaviour. You did wonder though, who'd be the father if there were six of them? But before you could ponder the situation anymore, you noticed they were all in uniform despite it being night. You do recall that Karl mentioned they kept a bit of a peculiar schedule, but even so, is this really what he meant? School at night? You supposed it wasn't too weird for people of such high status to be so busy during the day that they'd have to go to school at night. But even so, how could a human possibly function like this? They'd all be braindead zombies by now, strange was definitely one of the many words to describe this lot.

"As we were late to know of your arrival, we hadn't planned for you to be joining us. Since you lack proper attire, you'll be staying back tonight." Reiji spoke almost exasperatedly. You almost felt a bit scared to stay in such an usual place by yourself. Reiji caught the look on your face and clicked his tongue.

"You truly think we'd let you stay here by yourself? One of us is going to remain here with you until the others are back." Reiji said bluntly. Who was it that was going to babysit you while they were away? Maybe this was your chance to learn more about your new housemates. Your eyes scanned the room, looking for your possible sitter. Then, in an instant you both made eye contact. Both orbs absorbed in each other as the others in the room seemed to be nothing more than an afterthought.

Ok so this is just part one of the series I'm planning. I'll let you guys vote on who it was that caught the reader's attention. TY for reading this btw :( I've been obsessed with this franchise since I was 11 so I'm insane currently.

[xcyphoz0a]

Hello there! I hope your day is going well, but if not I hope it gets better dude!!!🤗

I wanted to know if it’s alright to request an idea for sagau? Like I might make a post about this but I always thought it would be cool to have y/n retain some realistic features even though they isekai into tevat!

Like for example; the hair being more textured, shines in reflection , the way they would have different shades and saturation throughout the skin, they way how your touch feels ‘real’ or different, oh and ur eyes, oh how the characters could look how your pupils reflects, etc.

Idk I always thought if I were to make and character of mine or y/n still retaining little features they had back their own world seem kind of cool and interesting to think how people would react to it!

Even better is if they don’t know you’re the ‘creator’ of their reality and they were only able to hear your voice and how you express yourself!!

Anyways sorry for making this so long 🥲 I’m just kind of curious on how you or others would feel on this idea 💡

Unique differences

Gender neutral reader, ideas TW/CW: sagau Character(s): Some characters from Mondstadt Word count: 608 Proofread: n/a | The differences you hold is what makes you unique, so special, lovable. | A/N: hello! I hope this fits your tastes..? might have a part two if i manage to find some more ideas!

Taglist: @chaoffee

When you arrive you probably don’t know why some random citizens look at you with such amazed, perplexed gazes, with you likely thinking there’s something on your face that you don’t know was there.

You’re also slightly confused why the hilichurls don’t attack when you’re an inch near them, and why the slimes seem to be more docile, why you barely manage to see abyss mages– everything’s odd.

If you arrive near Mondstadt, Amber is the first one to find you and lead you towards the headquarters of the knights of Favonius, but she definitely notices something different with you. You haven’t spoken yet, so she doesn’t know who you really are, perhaps, you’re like the traveller, she thinks.

But when you properly introduce yourself to Jean and the others the whole knights that are in the headquarters, such as Albedo, Sucrose, Kaeya, Lisa, perhaps Eula, gather around you, murmuring to themselves that you’re 99% the creator that they’ve only ever heard, and you’re just standing there. 

With your voice, the different, more dynamic and ‘lively’ look that you have seemed to make more sense–your eyes held the shine and reflection of their own appearance, your skin seemed to be much softer… and you assume that you’ve managed to retain some realer features you had in your original world.

Don’t worry, don’t fret, they love you with or without differences. Even if you weren’t the creator, Mondstadt welcomes you with open arms.

Best to say now the whole of Mondstadt finally knows their creator’s here in their region.

While Albedo knows that you are the creator, he can’t help but wonder if he can try to run some tests–he doesn’t want to hurt you, he just has an infinite curiosity ridden area in his mind.

Same goes for Sucrose too, but she doesn’t want to come off as rude or disrespectful, so she only holds these curiosities within her, oftentimes writing this in her journal, it’s not creepy, I promise.

Jean finds your presence nice, but more than others, it feels as if you’re like a safe haven for her with only just your presence, and you can visibly see her tired eyes brighten up when you pat her head for her hard work.

For Lisa, she also holds some questions for you, though she’d rather stay where she is, watching and hearing you enthusiastically talk about the books and literature in your world in the library.

Diluc wishes he was the person to find you first and lead you to Mondstadt– his feelings towards the knights of Favonius may be neutral and slightly, very slightly bad, but he’s still grateful that you managed to arrive safely. If you manage to visit Angel’s Share often, he’s somehow always there, wiping a glass or two.

Kaeya’s teasing his brother. No hard feelings though! Just pure friendly sibling rivalry. But when you’re near, his charismatic face fades as he’s rendered to someone yearning for affection–it’s adorable.

Same goes for Eula. She’s not often seen in Mondstadt due to her… ‘status’, but when you welcome her with open arms and no judgemental gaze, she feels… so appreciated. She’s barely felt this before other than in the knights of Favonius, but this… feels more different, warm, loving.

Venti’s elated, often like him a majority of times, but for him, he feels the joy that he’s never felt before–it’s pure, unadulterated joy that stems from his chest, as his mind fills with endless pure and innocent praise and lyrics for you with his lyre. The weather in Mondstadt seems to be more light, a refreshing breeze whenever Venti’s with you for some reason…

[dragonnyy]

alright, i’ve been holding onto this for a while as i wrote it a few months back, but im not really in the fandom anymore and i dont want to finish this as i originally planned to break it up into 3 parts (in the forms of act 1, 2 and 3) but i dont have the.. *anything* to do that. so, i'm going to post most of what i have of act 1, seeing as i won't finish it and i do not want this to go to waste lol so enjoy if anyone wants to continue this (i doubt it) lmk, i really dont care as long as credit is given

DEFAULT DARK URGE X READER (TAV): ACT 1

good aligned playthrough, spoilers for act 1 ahead here (obviously) tav is more of a ‘sweet and caring’ type of person, fyi 😕

You both met right after the nautiloid crash, on the beach. You spotted him facing away from you, seeming discombobulated and disoriented. Seeing the opportunity for any help, you approached and greeted him enthusiastically.

To you, he was another survivor; a potential friend who could help you get out of this mess.

To him, you were just another sheep among all others, your soul to be eventually ripped and shredded from this world one way or another. He wants to rip you apart as the bloodthirsty, vicious wolf, to make you bleed and shriek by his accursed hands. At least, that is what his mind tells him - His own flayed heart feels different. He is confused as to why it is this way, or better yet, who he even is, but he stays vaguely quiet about it for now.

Your minds lock together, as yours did with Shadowheart and Lae’zel just earlier – you sense something hungry, locked deep inside of you, yet you know not what. You are confused, puzzled, but there’s more to it than that.

He groans, rubbing his fingers on his skull in an attempt to ease the pounding blood in his head. You explain that it’s the tadpole’s doing, and you then introduce yourself. He reciprocates, but takes a pause as if deciding on a name, and subsequently landed on ‘Durge.’ It was a strange name, but you didn’t judge. You invited him along on your journey to seek out a healer, and seeing as he had no other choice, he accepted.

As he travels with you, it’s easy to tell something in his head has been twisted, other than what the tadpole might have affected. looking into his eyes deep enough gives you the sensation as if they contain a malicious hunger deep inside them – he perks at the slightest mention of anything within the nature of obscene violence, and it’s almost like he changes into someone completely different during combat. You sense that the nautiloid wasn’t the only unfortunate occurrence he’s suffered, but you didn’t want to pry now, so you decided to yourself you’d stay quiet until he’d ever wanted to confide in you, assuming you two would be able to get that far.

When you make it to the grove, you stumble upon the cutest squirrel you’ve ever seen! You kneel down and admire it, holding a hand out to it before it bites your finger. You recoil and curse under your breath, not even able to react before Durge straight up kicks it splat into a tree. His eyes go wide and he glances around as if some invisible entity were responsible for this incident, seemingly perplexed that he could be the one to do something like that. Your other companions go wide-eyed as well, taking a subtle step away from him. You figure that now may be a good time to ask him about, well, his wellbeing.

You question him, not wanting to pry too much out of respect, but also curious about whatever just happened. You make a funny comment about needing protection from things other than squirrels, but he doesn’t laugh with you. You correct your tone and ask sympathetically, is everything all right?

He answers honestly. No. He’s not alright. He confesses he has amnesia – he does not remember who he is, and his mind is just spinning with what feels like a raging headache.

You lay a hand on his shoulder, attempting to console him to your best effort, to which he smiles softly and expresses his appreciation for it. You offer a healing potion to see if that might make him feel better, but he declines. He assures you that he just needs some time to adapt to his condition. He should be fine as long as he takes it easy, for now.

There are more various encounters you note over the course of a few long rests, such as the Arabella incident. You always take a glance at him once in a while, to see if he has that crazed look in his eye. Usually he does, but you can tell he tries to subdue whatever is inside of him. You start to quietly question yourself about who he is – could he be lying about his amnesia? No, surely not. He seems genuinely befuddled. There is definitely more to his situation than amnesia. You sympathize. You want to help him, somehow.

You and Durge grow closer together, over time. He deeply appreciates how you show your concern for him, and he expresses that. You could soon call yourself friends after knowing him only a few days to a week. He was always by your side on your adventures, attached right to the hip. You were the person he was most comfortable around, so far.

You enjoyed his presence as much as he did yours. He was mostly quiet, but you of course didn’t mind. He was smart, and he listened to you, and valued your comfort just as much as you valued his. He respected you, and you respected him in turn.

And that’s where feelings grew. A fondness resonated between you two, and you felt safe in his presence, despite how intimidating he may stand out to be. But that only increased your attraction for him. Even better, he was gentle with you. It feels like you had unlocked a secret softness inside of him, reserved only for someone like you, which made you feel very accomplished.

On his end, he was distraught. Overwhelmed by this emotion. At first, he recognized his fondness for you, but hadn’t seen it as a romantic emotion. The thought hadn’t even so much as brushed against his mind. But now? He is in such denial, and so many confusing feelings are buzzing around his head that he could not even comprehend or interpret. It is as if his bitter heart were never made to dispense emotions such as this. He doesn’t even know how to feel about it. Is this a good emotion for him? He doesn’t know. He has never recognized the soft feelings he gets when he’s near you. For now, he tries to learn how to live with them, if he cannot decipher them, hoping these may go away soon. Unfortunately, they only get worse.

Just as much as he recognizes his feelings for you, the urge only grapples its talons on you like a target. Two halves of him either want to kill you, or protect you. Seeing as you’re still alive, he’s doing a better job at protecting you, but whatever deplorable evil is inside him scares him. He knows, beyond any doubt, it will unleash chaos within him, sooner or later.

As a result of the urge to both keep you alive and kill you, he tries to spare at least a bit of distance from you. He moves his tent all the way to the other side of camp, away from you and everyone else. He purposely lags behind, just a bit, whilst you’re exploring. He stays away from you in combat, using his sorcery on enemies from afar. He slightly avoids you, just in the hopes it will keep you a little bit safer.

Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice. Until it gets worse. He seems to grow only more and more distant to you every day and you’ve been noticing it for the past week, and you don’t know why. It gets to the point where he only speaks in short monosyllabic words to you, if not outright ignoring you. He even stays in camp most of the time, refusing to come along with you anymore. Did you do something wrong? No, you can’t think of anything you could’ve done recently to upset him. Perhaps he just needs space, and you can understand that. But still, you want to know. So you ask him, on the night you prepare to raid the goblin camp with your other companions.

It doesn’t go as well as you would’ve wanted it to. When you approach him and sit next to him, he blatantly ignores you as if you were not there. You start speaking, expressing your concerns about him, until he snaps at you. He argues with you, telling you that you wouldn’t understand. You let him yell at you until he’s done. You say nothing, and try to lean in for a hug, but he pushes you away. You tell him that you care about him, and you want to help him. You sympathize with him; you want to help him find out who he was as well. You then wish him a silent goodnight and head to your tent. You don’t see him come out of his tent the next morning.

He feels remorseful for pushing you away, but if it is what he has to do to keep you safe, then so be it. He wants to be near you, but he doesn’t want to hurt you. He tries to fall asleep quickly afterwards to avoid the guilt, but he can barely sleep thinking about you. And when slumber does take him, he’s only tortured by more gorey nightmares. And of course, they are of you.

The next day, you left to raid the goblin camp, and emerged victorious. You returned to the grove to inform Zevlor, and he rewarded you gratefully for your effort. He asked you if he and the tieflings could throw a party at your camp, and you, being the generous hero who initially saw no problem with that, accepted.

Everything was great. You were celebrating your victory. Everyone seemed to be having fun, and you mingled happily with your companions. But you noticed that someone was missing… Until you realized that you hadn’t seen Durge anywhere. You asked all your companions if they’d seen if he went somewhere, and Astarion observed that he “saw him slink into the woods.” You thanked Astarion before he could interject you, and ran off into the woods with a torch. (Unless you have darkvision.)

It wasn’t hard to find him, considering how bright his scales were, glistening in the bright moon above. He sat on a log facing away from you; to the lake, gazing at the moon. You quietly sat next to him, and he slightly flinched, as if lost in thought and then taken by surprise.

You greeted him normally, and he reciprocated.

You couldn’t bear this anymore. You admitted to yourself in the moment, you felt something intimate for him. You couldn’t bear having him push you away anymore. You wanted him to open up, so you started to confess your worries about him. You knew there was something else about him. Something diabolical, writhing within, something that he harboured inside. You wanted to help him, but you didn’t know how unless he opened up to you. You reassured him, he didn’t have to now, but you just needed to know what was happening, why he was pushing you away?

He takes a deep breath, before explaining it to you in the best way he could. He disclosed to you about the urge. Something inside of him continuously filled his head with dreadful thoughts that he seemed to be somehow desensitized to. He looked at you with fear in his eyes as he expressed how he knew, deep inside, something bad was destined to happen because of this urge, and he was frightened of it.

You inquired him; why push you away?

He hesitated before answering, but filled his words with emotion: “Because I care about you.”

He avoids eye contact, embarrassed, as you absorb his words. He expects you to get up and leave, to turn your back on him, and tell him you wish never to see him again.

Yet you lay a hand on his bare shoulder, giving him the most doting smile he’d ever seen as you comfort him. You will get through this with him, and you will get to the bottom of this.

Even as he exposes the truth of his vile nature to you, you still look at him the same way you did before. You didn’t see him as a monster. And that’s when he admitted to himself, as well, he loved you without consequence.

He’s taken aback when you lean in for a kiss, but he doesn’t pull away, his body acting on its own accord. You quickly pull away, a blush corroding your cheeks. You apologize, but before you can say anything else, he gently caresses your cheek and leans in for another kiss.

You spend a few minutes in silence together, subtly placing your hand over his as you admire the scenery of the lake together, leaning your head on his shoulder.

In this moment, he forgets about everything. The tadpole, the absolute, the fear he holds onto… Everything. But the urge is still there, always. It sickens him like a parasite dug deep into his soul, far worse than the tadpole.

You face him and smile, offering to head back to camp and get a good night’s rest. He accepts, and you walk back to camp together, hand in hand, as you spend some time in his tent reading books together, talking, or just sitting together, for a good hour or two.

You yawn, feeling drowsy, and rub your eyes. You bid him a goodnight as you walk back to your tent, and he smiles, feeling the warmth in his chest bloom, embracing it. He was still afraid of hurting you, but now, less so. He fell asleep that night dreaming about you. Not in the pleasant way most would expect, but he was used to it by now.

fin. this is probably going to be discontinued. again lmk if anyone wants to continue this for me or smth

[janearts]

(Original post.)

This is not a direct response to these tags, but these tags unfortunately made me think about spider reproduction, a topic I wanted to remain blissfully ignorant about. But Roisia would know how spiders reproduce and spider anatomy, so now I know... and I'm going to make it everyone's problem.

While Roisia would not want to get *ahem* Grecian myth levels of intimate with a druid-turned-spider, she would be able to entertain some ideas about Halsin's natural elven form based on his arachnid anatomy.

I'll also take this moment to point out that they gave the male-presenting drider in one of the BG3 trailers female pedipalps, which would confuse and perplex Roisia until someone gently reminds her that trans male driders are male driders.

[faux-ecrivain]

1950s Househusband Part 5

————————————————————

(Name; Angelo)

(Thirty Fifth Official Post)

(It’s short, but I hope you enjoy.)

———————————————————— You were perplexed, just a moment ago you were having a somewhat normal conversation with Angelo. Now, the conversation is over, and he’s rambling about being a good husband, and resisting temptation. Which, baffled you even more as you didn’t know what this temptation was, or who it was for that matter. But, you had a feeling that asking him might not be a good idea. Instead, you cleared your throat, tapped his shoulder, and inquired about his behavior. “Are you alright, Angelo? You look a bit disturbed, is something wrong?” This did not get you a response, no, but it did cause Angelo to quit rambling. However, now he’s staring at with wide eyes, he looks almost appalled, and you don’t know how to react to that. You simply try to create some more distance between the two of you. Actually, you were contemplating how rude it would be to just sit somewhere else entirely, somewhere far away from him. You reason that Angelo probably needs space and that you were simply trying to be respectful. So, you slowly get off the couch, sadly, your escape is prevented when the floorboards protest your weight with a loud creak. Fortunately, this snaps Angelo out of his stupor and encourages him to jump off the couch, and rush to the door. “I-I really have to go, I apologize for bothering you so late, and, uhm, I’ll talk to you later.” (Actually, he’s going to try and avoid you for a long time.) “Oh, well, please let me walk you home. It’s much too late to be out by yourself.” You hesitantly offer to walk him home, and he seems to contemplate the idea for a moment, then he quickly shakes his head. You’re relieved when he rejects your offer. “No, no, that’s quite alright. I will be just fine, but thank you, nonetheless.” Angelo frantically tosses his coat on, then yanks your front door open, dashes outside, and slams it shut behind him. He slams the door closed with such force that your locks jangle and a vase begins dances precariously on the edge of your table. Luckily, you’re quick enough to catch it as it falls, sadly you aren’t quick enough to catch the priceless, porcelain cat that was close to the car. You’re absolutely mortified when you hear the cat shatter, you just know your grandmother is going to kill you for that. An exhalation escapes your lips, and you return the vase to its original spot, albeit a tad further from the edge. You stand up, lock your door, and lean against for a moment as you process that situation. Angelo has come by late at night, exhibited very strange behavior, then you had a dull conversation with him. This was followed by an encroachment of your personal space and the violent death of your grandmother’s favorite porcelain cat. None of that makes sense, but one thing is for sure, that entire interaction was unusual, and extremely memorable. You’ll be thinking about that for days to come, hopefully the next time you run into him, your confusion will be cleared up.———————————————————-

(Okay, so this was a short chapter and definitely does not make up for my absence, or the lack of posts I’ve made. Nor does it make up for all the Reblogs I’ve been indulging in, but I’m going to try and write more often than I am now. I don’t know how well that’ll work, hopefully I’ll get out of this strange writing stupor I’m in and will be back to posting regularly!)

[collecting-dustbunnies]

Obey Me Nightbringer Theory Time: MC is an Unreliable Narrator

Part 1: MC is an Unreliable Narrator | Part 2: A Clash of Ideals

What if the MC knows more than they are letting on? What if the MC's motives is different from ours, as the player?

(Disclaimer: Long post. Different from my meme content. Contains spoilers for all of NB and OG content. Also I may wake up tomorrow and cringe at this, but hopefully you can enjoy my delirium?)

OG = Obey Me Original

NB = Obey Me Nightbringer

It all starts from the beginning

We can see traces of this from when we first launch the game, with MC's first text messages with Nightbringer. And I'm not talking about the messages that we saw when the game first launched, but the new re-write of those same messages. You can compare the differences between the old texts and the new texts on @impish-ivy 's post here (thank you for allowing me to discuss it here). I'll include some of their screenshots as reference.

Let's take a look at the new version of the text exchange. Now, I don't know about you, but I have no idea what Nightbringer is talking about. But Sheep-chan apparently does! If MC answers that they think they understand what he's talking about, they get to keep their memories when they get sent to the past. But if MC says they don't have a clue? The game assumes that they have lost their memories. This seems like a strong indicator that MC knows something that we, as the player, do not know about Nightbringer and their powers. This exchange is very different from how things played out in the original version of these text messages where:

Yes I know them. Really well, actually = MC has their memories.

I don't know who they are = MC has no memories.

[The official reason for this change was "to make the game more enjoyable for new players", but I don't buy that. In the original version, it was quite clear which option you had to pick to signal to the game that you have not played OG. While in this version, it's way more convoluted, since the player will have no idea what Nightbringer is actually talking about. It just causes people who have played OG to accidentally signal to the game that they haven't. Why change the text to be even more confusing, when the original version would have sufficed for newer players?]

Now let's follow this line of thought for a moment. Nightbringer states that the MC has received "a second chance at a fated meeting", and MC has to answer that they think they know what this means if they want to keep their memories during the time jump. If they don't, then Nightbringer assumes that they have lost their memories.

Which leads me to believe that Sheep-chan is not entirely an innocent victim who was unwittingly sent to the past. Instead, they were a willing participant of the time jump. Maybe they have some understanding on how Nightbringer's powers worked and wanted to meet the brothers again. Maybe they too were curious to see what their ideal world looked like. With this idea in mind, let's re-evaluate everything MC has said and done in NB.

MC's interactions with Nightbringer (and Michael, I guess)

After the intro, the next time MC directly interacts with Nightbringer is in Lesson 12 of NB, where they get sent into a coma after breaking the rules at the Fountain of Knowledge. Let's look at what he says here for a moment.

The first thing Nightbringer asks MC is what they think of this world, a rather unusual thing to ask someone who is kinda sorta dying. If MC says they want to go home, Nightbringer expresses some confusion as to whether the brothers of this world are not to MC's liking. It makes sense for him to be confused here, since he sent MC to this timeline under the impression that they would like this world (or at least, view this world as a stepping stone to reach their "place of joy").

(Then again, if MC responds that they are enjoying this world, Nightbringer is even more perplexed that they can remain upbeat in such a precarious situation. But knowing what canon Sheep-chan is like, why is this surprising?)

After this, he explains that his motive is to lead MC to a place that will "bring [them] joy like no other". This fits what he had said in the beginning of the game:

"Shall I take you someplace you will be happy? Somewhere that will bring you more joy than any other."

"A world you desire, and where you will be desired."

- Nightbringer, intro text message

He then goes on to emphasise that both he and MC want the same thing. He comments on how MC has done a splendid job getting closer to Lucifer and his brothers. This is where I feel that Nightbringer was never MC's enemy, as both parties have similar goals, and they need each other to some extent. MC needed Nightbringer and other mysterious forces to set the gears in motion so that MC can become closer to the brothers, forge pacts with them, and reach their "ideal" world. Nightbringer wants to bring MC to this place of happiness, and he sees MC forming pacts with the brothers as the way to get there. In this case, Nightbringer is a co-conspirator here.

This idea then gets brought up again when MC sees Michael in Lesson 13, when he saves MC from their coma. He warns MC that the Celestial Realm would be less willing to tolerate their behaviour if they ally themselves with Nightbringer (which, is exactly what MC has been doing so far). Is Michael afraid of the MC trying to forge their ideal world together with Nightbringer? Or is he afraid that MC is getting tricked by Nightbringer?

This also explains why Nightbringer never interacted with MC again after this incident. Everything MC had done in NB was what Nightbringer had wanted as well. Nightbringer didn't need to intervene because everything was going according to his plan.

Comparison of MC's actions in OG vs NB

When we consider the fact that MC may have actually wanted to go back to the past and meet the brothers again, a lot of their actions (and even their inaction) makes more sense. When Solomon tells them they need to make the pacts to get back to their own time, MC is in no rush to obtain these pacts. In fact, they don't even think about making those pacts until Season 2 when they are faced with an ultimatum to make those pacts, which is, they have to forge the pacts before MC and Solomon lose their connection to their original time. This is different from the usual behaviour in OG, where they were extremely motivated to make a pact with every brother from Beelzebub -> Asmo -> Satan and employed help from multiple people to acheive this goal. They even took the initiative to ask Lucifer for a pact on the day before they left the Devildom, when they had no reason to do so.

This is very different from how Season 2 of NB played out, as MC simply waited around until each brother went beserk (in the case of Mammon, Asmo and Satan) before they even thought about proposing the pact. In Lucifer's case, even though MC (after much prompting) spoke up about needing to go back to their home, it was Mephistopheles advocating for MC that ultimately convinced Lucifer to let MC go. And later on, MC remained on the sidelines and let the other characters take the reign in rescuing Lucifer from Cocytus. Compared to the original game, where MC takes on a more active role in forming their pacts, MC is more passive in Nightbringer, simply biding their time until the opportunity to make a pact falls onto their lap. Is this how somebody who desperately misses their home and wants to go back ASAP would act?

Regardless of how you choose to play the MC as, they always express some hesitation in leaving behind the brothers of the past. No matter how many times you try to make the MC say they want to go back home ASAP, Lucifer will gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss MC into admitting that they do not want to leave. Simeon in Lesson 35 of NB even reaffirms this by saying "I'm sure you really feel that way deep down inside. Even if you don't realise it". Bruh.

But why? MC should know that their home is with the boys of the present timeline. Why has the MC never considered the repercussions of staying in a timeline that they don't belong in? Or even considered how Solomon could lose his powers for good because of MC's hesitance? Why had MC never once stopped to consider how the demon brothers they had left behind would feel about their absence? This shouldn't even be a dilemma.

Unless... this past was the place they wanted to end up in the first place. That, like Nightbringer had said, this place will bring them joy like no other.

As an aside: One of the few insights we get about Sheep-chan's inner thoughts is the nightmare they have about the brothers trapping them in the attic and preventing them from leaving (in Lesson 33 of NB). Which has horrific implications, considering the attic still did not exist at this point of time. Was Belphegor's imprisonment and the Lesson 16 incident so traumatic for MC that the attic is the place that they associate with imprisonment?

Note how some of the brothers keep suggesting that THIS is the outcome that the MC really wants. But this also provides another possible reason for the MC's hesitation to leave: The fear of how the brothers' of the past would react. The fear of brothers turning against them, despite everything MC had done to protect them. Speaking of what MC had done to protect them...

MC forging their place in the past Devildom

MC hasn't taken active measures to forge their pacts to return home, but you know what they have shown to be more interested in? Asserting their place in the Devildom of the past, and spending time with the past version of the brothers.

The best example of this is Lesson 11 of NB, where the MC hesitates to promise to Solomon to protect humanity, but with no hesitation, promises to take care of the brothers even with full knowledge that they would be punished for doing this. If we remember Lesson 35 of OG where MC, Solomon and the demon brothers went to the reaper's cave to break Beel's curse, Solomon was surprised that the demon brothers' punishments for breaking the reaper's rules (turning into a Little D) were so mild. It was implied that without MC unconsciously protecting them with their magic, the brothers could have died or been wiped out from existence upon breaking the rules.

A weakened MC of the past who retains their memories of this incident in the reaper's cave would know just how severe the backlash would be if they make promises in the cave. But this did not stop them from doing so anyway. This shows where MC's allegiance truly lies: Not with humanity, not with any mysterious forces at play, but with the demon brothers. It's hard to tell what the MC hopes to get out of making such a dangerous promise.

The most optimistic take is that they felt forced to prove their loyalty to Lucifer and his family by taking such a drastic action. After all, MC is used to sacrificing their life for the people they love. Throwing themselves at death is nothing new to them.

The most cynical take would be that this bold decision was actually a calculated move by the MC to assert their importance and their role in the demon lords' lives. To show just how bad things can get without them. To guilt-trip Lucifer and Belphegor who had doubted the MC's allegiance, so that they never doubt MC again.

Regardless of their motivation, the MC's actions showed that they are inseparable from Lucifer's family, and this incident served to further cement the MC's importance to them. This allowed MC to strengthen their bonds with the brothers once again. So that they can create a world they desire, and they will be desired.

Putting this all together

Obey Me: Nightbringer paints the image of a MC being ripped from their home and being thrust into an unfamiliar world. Yet, the MC's actions in NB tell a different story. It shows us that Nightbringer is turning the gears so that MC can go to a place surrounded by people that they love, and who will love them no matter what. Because it wouldn't be enough if the characters of the present were hopelessly in love with them, but the characters of the past should also feel the same way. Even if that is a world the MC does not belong in.

All I'm saying is, Sheep-chan is sus as heck.

[perplexed-confusion]

"Not if you're blonde." "Oh, she was blonde. Oh, what a surprise." Tgese two could terrorise the Doctor together if they tried

[shiny-jr]

damnation (peek V?)

Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Neige LeBlanche, Epel Felmier, Rook Hunt, Vil Schoenheit.

Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

Note: Should I be posting this right now? Probably not. Especially since Scarabia isn’t completed, but I haven’t posted anything in a while and I’ve been more motivated and inspired for Pomefiore lately. Maybe seeing comments and opinions on this might boost my energy and make me write more and complete both Scarabia and Pomefiore. Hopefully. Anyways, I wanted to post this anyways because technically it was part of the first sneak-peek before I edited it out so I could make its own and make it longer too. That, and after seeing fanart by a mutual, I wanted to write even more. I’m finally getting the chance now. So I’ll be writing right after I post this. Go check out the most recent fanart I got for this specific part of the project. Oh, and if you have no idea what this is, you might want to check the first sneak-peek post (the “I” below) and my previous posts under the #damnation twst au tag. One last thing. None of this is edited, I just copy and pasted from the draft I have so yeah, just in case y’all see mistakes it’s because I haven’t gone over it yet. I usually go over everything once it’s completed.

I . . . II . . . III . . . IV . . . V . . . VI . . . VII

THE BEAUTIFUL KING

A dark robe. Wrapped around your shoulders was a black cloak, like wings folded in. Speaking of feathered appendages, there was a single shiny feather tucked behind your ear. You had felt it tickling your earlobe, leading you to pluck it out of your hair to examine it. It was long and black, huge in size, making you imagine it came from a beast of a raven. Slowly you looked up, confused to find yourself at a desk surrounded by books, bottles of odd colorful liquids, and there was even a cauldron in the corner of the stone wall!

Returning your attention back to the feather, you were perplexed but quite liked it so you placed it back behind your ear where you had originally discovered it. Upon standing from the wooden chair, you noticed your change of outfit. A simple white ruffled shirt and black pants, although nearly every inch of you was covered by the black cloak on your back that reached all the way to your ankle and draped around you like a curtain. Lifting up the cloak, you could feel a short sword strapped safely and securely in a hilt on your back hidden away from sight. What was this place…? Why were you dressed like this? Why did you have a sword? What was going on? Was this your punishment?

Just then, your eyes drifted over to a book stand where a heavy leather tome sat open to prying eyes. Your prying eyes, to be exact. Curiously you stepped toward it, your fingers ghosting over the crisp pages of the aged book as you squinted incredulously at the words printed on the surface in a large font, occasionally dotted with red ink. “Poison apple…?” Beside it was the painted image of a ripe red apple, and in its shining reflective skin was the distinct shape of a skull. “One taste of the poisoned apple and the victim’s eyes will close forever in the sleeping death.”

But that… that was from a fairytale! The story of Snow White and the Beautiful Queen! This page about a poisoned apple, the tome, this basement filled with ingredients and suspicious concoctions… So it was true, criminals were often sent to dangerous tales where they would perish. And you... you were a criminal and you were here, but... what role did you play? Lifting your hand up to your ear, you suddenly felt the familiar soft sensation of the black feather accessory and realization dawned on you. Didn’t the queen have a pet raven…? Could that explain why you were here in these strange but fancy clothes? Of all things, why did you have to be the raven?

How did the story go again? The Queen was vain and wicked, she wished to be the most beautiful of all. It was said that she consulted her magic mirror every day and would inquire as to who the fairest of them all was. Should the mirror ever reply with another’s name instead of hers, she would find a way to kill her rival and would only be satisfied once the mirror answered her name. So when her step-daughter, Snow White, grows to become the fairest of them all, the Queen goes mad with jealousy and has a huntsman attempt to kill her. When that fails, the Queen takes matters into her own hands, eventually turning herself ugly as a disguise and even causing her own untimely demise by falling off a cliff and being crushed by a boulder, her remains left as feed for hungry vultures. That was the Queen, but what about the raven? Well, it’s never disclosed as to what happens to the bird, at least to your knowledge. The last the raven is seen, it was being tormented by the wicked Queen as she was creating the poisoned apple. Actually, maybe being the raven wasn’t so bad afterall… At least it didn’t perish or receive some other horrible ending.

Knowing this brought you much relief. At least you didn’t end up as the raven in that other story about a sleeping princess. That raven was turned to stone! You pity any poor sucker that might’ve ended up in that position. This outcome was adequate, for now. Perhaps it was best to venture outside, to attempt to find this beautiful queen. To be honest, it was a little exciting. You had always wondered how beautiful she was, since the novels always claimed they could never do her justice. But that's besides the point. Once meeting her, you then had to decide what your next move would be.

Keeping all that in mind, you climbed the spiraling stone staircases just barely lit by candles. You winced whenever you heard the squeak of a rat or spotted a rotting corpse of a forgotten prisoner still in chains. Quickening your pace until you reached a wooden door, and stepped into the sunlight. It was warm and delightful, the sun’s rays shining on your skin. You felt free. As of now, this was far from punishment. But knowing that you were sent here to be punished or even die, was what kept you from being completely at ease. You could almost just relax here in the calm and beauty of this garden–– key word, almost. Shrieking and many voices shattered your temporary peace, even scaring away the white doves that had flocked in the open courtyard.

Grumbling, you followed the sound of the commotion. It sounded like it was coming from over the high palace walls. There was one portion of the wall that was shorter than the rest, if you climbed onto the smooth edges of the railing by the stone steps, you could successfully scale onto the top of the wall where you decided to lounge about and spectate the action. On the other side of the wall, you could see a young man getting closer and closer, nervously waving at a large group giggling and following him. It was obvious that he was a little uncomfortable, and that he was trying to lose them without hurting their feelings by how he continued to smile even as he picked up the pace.

When his eyes landed on you, he appeared surprised, and as he walked the path he was getting closer and closer. Feeling pity for the lad, you sighed and stretched your arm down, to which he hesitated a moment before finally deciding to place his hand in yours. You heaved him up and slid down to the safe side of the wall, the palace side, just before his apparent fans could catch him. Their whining and complaining was amusing.

“Thank you…! You saved me!”

Oh, right, he was still here. You glanced over at the young man peering happily up at you with the brightest smile on his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed as you slowly began to notice his features. Hair black as ebony, skin white as snow, dressed head-to-toe in rags… No way––

“Ah, I know you!” He exclaimed, delighted as he took a step closer. “You’re my elder brother’s attendant! I’ve seen you around the palace countless times. You are always working so hard that I’ve never gotten a chance to properly meet you! Of course you must already know but my name is Neige, it’s truly so wonderful to finally talk like this with you!” He performed a small but polite bow. Such manners for a prince in rags. “I never knew you were so kind! Is there any way I can repay you?”

“Ah, no, there’s no need for that…” You studied his face, attempting to make sense of it all. If this Neige was Snow White, it did make total sense. His skin was flawless, it looked like a marshmallow, so pristine but soft. He was cherubic. His beauty was more of a one of innocence and cuteness, and it seemed the townsfolk noticed his looks judging by how they focused on his physical features instead of his attire. You force your gaze away. This was the prince who the Queen would try to kill. But there’s a chance it may be King in this version, because you’re fairly certain that Neige had just mentioned something about having an elder brother that you apparently worked for. “It was nothing.”

“Please, don’t be so modest! Your actions were selfless and heroic. Had it not been for you, I’m afraid I would’ve been stuck outside all day with no choice other than to interact with all those that followed me. And I couldn’t have that! I promised my brother that I would do my chores.” A sad frown appeared on his face as his gaze traveled back over to the wall, “Although I do regret having just left them without so much as a goodbye…”

So he was kind… Makes sense. Most princesses, or prince in this case, were kind-hearted souls that were far too naive or trusting and had the strangest ability to communicate with woodland creatures. However that last part worked, you weren’t entirely sure.

“The doves of the courtyard gathered by the well with me this morning! And we all made a wish! I, well… It's a bit embarrassing, but I wished for something truly special. And I believe that my wish may have come true!” A pretty pink blush made his cheeks rosy as he clasped his hands together, looking so truly content as he peered up at you.

“Is that so…?” Well, magical animal talking ability, check that off the list. He really was like the princess from the fairytale. But you didn’t like where this was going. You outgrew fairytales a long time ago, but when you read something so fantastical and magical in your innocent imaginative youth, it sticks with you. Perhaps that was a good thing, because even now you could recall the small details of the story.

In the beginning of the story, Snow White is cleaning the courtyard when she meets the doves at the well where she makes a wish to meet her true love. Not too long after, the prince appears on horseback, hearing the princess’ song that leads him to climb over the palace walls to get to her. When you got older, you quickly realized how creepy that actually was. The prince crept up on her like some sort of stalker, and essentially trespassed on private palace grounds. But that’s besides the point right now. The point is, Snow White made a wish to meet her true love which happened to be the prince. Well, right now, you have yet to see another so-called dashing prince or princess. There was just the courtyard and you were alone with Neige, and he was gazing up at you through his lashes and with a pretty smile that appeared too fondly. The Queen, or King, really needed to stop cooping up Prince Neige within the palace walls. It was dulling his sense towards social cues and common sense.

“Hey! What the hell are you doin’...?!”

Surprised at the sudden presence beside you, you looked to see another stranger. This one you couldn’t automatically connect to a role. It was a short young man with a cuteness that could possibly even rival the prince. He had such wide blue eyes and odd soft lavender curls that framed his face. Unlike you and Prince Neige, his outfit was of much finer detail which consisted of a white tunic and long dark blue sleeves from the shirt he wore underneath. A red cloak was draped over the shoulders of his small frame, the ends brushing against his simple pants and boots. But despite his fine clothing and adorable appearance, he spoke with such brashness, irked for whatever reason.

“Ah, you must be Epel! My brother speaks often about you! He says he sees great potential in you!” Neige interjected, oblivious to this Epel fellow’s irritation. Epel… the name didn’t ring a bell. You could accurately deduce what Neige’s role was based on his appearance and the fact that his name meant snow in French. But you still had no idea who Epel was supposed to be. Again, Neige bowed his head in polite greeting as he exclaimed, “Today must be my lucky day! Not only have I met you now, Epel, but I’ve also met–– Um…” He paused, turning to you and inquiring softly, “I’m sorry, I’m so excited that I’ve forgotten to ask your name.”

The lavender-haired boy quickly snatched your attention away from the prince, grabbing your cloak where your arm would be as he hissed in a whisper so as to not involve Neige. “Are you crazy? Talkin’ to the prince…! Vil is gonna fly off the handle!” Not-so-discreetly gesturing to the window right above them with his eyes darting to it and back to you, but not moving his head, so as to not alert the onlooker behind the glass.

You froze, not moving your head but your eyes moved up to where Epel had been glancing at. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could just barely make out a tall and thin figure in purple standing at the large window, holding the red curtains open with both hands. They were watching, and just as you moved your head the tiniest bit to get a better look, you only caught a glimpse of a deep angered frown before the curtains were abruptly shut, barring you from seeing anymore. That could’ve only been the beautiful royal, the monarch in charge that sees Prince Neige as a rival. When you looked back at Neige, he was still smiling at you with his hands folded in front of him, patiently awaiting an answer. Poor guy doesn’t know what’s coming.

“We gotta go, or Rook is gonna drag us back himself…!” Without even waiting for you to give Neige your name, Epel took your hand and ran like a bat out of hell. Making a beeline straight for an entrance to the palace, you attempted to keep up with him. He was surprisingly strong for someone so small.

Behind you, you heard, “W-Wait, I never got your name…!”

Well, that’s a crying shame. Focusing your attention on where you were heading, you began to lose track of all the twists and turns within these palace walls. Epel led you forward, he certainly knew where he was going. But you? You hadn’t a clue. That is, until after a few minutes, you arrived at a long hall where at the very end there were double doors already opened. The few soldiers standing guard paid no mind to you and the lavender-haired fellow, probably because in their eyes, you belonged here. And yet that couldn’t be further from the truth.

You felt so incredibly out of place as you stood on the lengthy blue carpet that stretched forward toward a small yet intricately designed throne of gold and jewels formed in the shape of a magnificent peacock with its feathered fanned out. But what was more entrancing than the priceless throne, was the person sitting atop it. Oh, how the novels did not lie, they truly could not do the monarch any justice in portraying their beauty. The King, who must’ve been Vil, could’ve been a world-famous model. His face looked like those perfect sculpted marble statues, it was the type of look that would incur the envious wrath of gods and goddesses in mythology. There was not a single blemish or flaw. Not even a single hair of his golden locks fading into lavender was out of place. The long purple robes under the longer black cloak flowing down his body, complimented the color of his amethyst eyes. Those eyes looked even more shiny than the golden crown perched atop his skull. You weren’t a simp but wow.

The King appeared less than pleased, it actually made you incredibly nervous when he bore a frown and silently beckoned you closer with a single curling movement of his index finger.

Walking past Epel who stood by the door, you took a deep breath as you recounted what knowledge you had on etiquette during this time period. Once you were a few feet in front of him, you began to kneel, when he spoke and caused you to freeze.

“Don’t.” Intense gaze glued to your form, he watched you carefully as he instructed, “Come closer.”

You slowly stepped forward, closer to him.

“Closer.”

Hesitating, you took another step so one foot was on the step in front of his throne.

“Closer.”

Pausing, you inched forward, now standing on the same elevation as the throne. Now you were just centimeters away from him, and it was putting you on edge. When he appeared seemingly satisfied, that’s when you finally kneeled in front of him. With a bowed head, a common sign of respect in customs with monarchies, you greeted simply, “Your Majesty.”

The King peered down at you, silent for a moment as you kept your head down and eyes glued to the ends of his purple robes and how his black cloak that matched yours, but his was much longer, pooled around his throne to look like a black void. After a few moments, you felt his hand at your chin, his slim fingers urging you to look up. When you did, he hummed, “Well, my lovely pet, have you had your fun with my little step-brother?” He gave a question, but it became obvious that he didn’t want an answer. At least not yet. This king must not be too fond of the prince. As his thumb stroked your chin and raised it so your head was almost at his knee, he continued slowly while gazing down at you, “You know that I loathe sharing, don’t you? So why would I share you with my step-brother, hm? Have you perhaps… begun to favor him over me?”

It struck you then that the royal must be an extremely envious person. Not only did they want to remain first in standing when it came to beauty, but he also wanted to monopolize people’s attention so that they may focus on him. Replying carefully, you spoke while keeping your eyes glued to his enchanting yet intimidating gaze, “Of course not, Your Majesty. It was merely a coincidence that I encountered him. I cannot be as easily swayed as the masses.” For a moment you hesitated, seeing that he seemed unconvinced as you proceeded, “... My loyalty to you cannot be broken by a prince in rags.”

After a few moments, the tension in the air evaporated as the king graced you with a smile that made your breath hitch. You had said the right thing. Tempted to glance at Epel for a possible clue on what to do next, you refrained and instead remained still as a statue when the king reached forward with his other hand to remove your hood. “Let me see your face, my retainer.” As soon as the hood was removed, he examined your face in the light. It took an incredible amount of calm to keep composed and not squirm in place under his intense scrutinizing gaze. Finally, he frowned and sighed, “I’ve been keeping you confined beneath the castle for far too long. You’re beginning to look ghastly, and I can’t be seen with someone beside me that’s less than appealing to look at.” Removing his hands from your face, he motioned for you to stand, which you did. “You’ve done enough. Getting rid of our guests and covering it up must’ve been challenging, especially for you to do it all on your own. This time, Rook will take over while you will be receiving enough sunlight to revitalize your complexion. Do not overdo it. Rook.”

Guests? Cover up? This wasn’t in the story. There wasn’t any time to fully process what you heard before you detected yet another voice just right beside your ear.

“Good day, petit corbeau!” You felt your soul leave your body for a single second when these words were said beside your ear by a voice, an extremely close and unfamiliar voice. When you jumped, startled, you noticed there was another young man literally only an inch behind you. When did he even get there? You didn’t even notice him until now! When you stepped to the side out of the way, you furrowed your eyebrows at his smile.

The young man was blonde, with hair styled into a ridiculous looking bob-cut but he somehow made it work as he wore a wide-brimmed brown hat with a black feather. Over his shoulders and back he wore a large hunter green cloth that wrapped around his shoulders like a scarf and extended over his back like a small cloak. Underneath, concealed by the cloth, was a dark tunic and black pants with a belt and knife at his hip. However, what unnerved you wasn’t the knife at his hip or the bow and quiver chock full of arrows on his back. It was his eyes.

His forest green eyes were glued to you, and he bore a wide and charming smile. “Ah, to see you without your hood and out of the undercroft, what a rare sight! Marvelous! I must thank you, Your Majesty, for making this possible! It is not everyday we see your dutiful, striking, mysterious little raven. It is truly a spectacle to behold! I will treasure this rare moment where I’ve not only heard you speak, but have seen your visage without being shrouded by shadows and concealed by your hood!”

You did not like this. The way he was looking at you as he spoke so dramatically made a shiver crawl up your spine. Yes, he spoke nothing but praise in such an honest tone and declaration, but there was something in his eyes. Something that placed you on edge as his smile turned slightly ominous and his eyes narrowed at you. There was a twinkle in his green eyes as he tilted his head at you inquisitively, as if sensing your unease without you even saying a word. This had to be the Rook fellow that Epel mentioned offhandedly, and now it made sense as to why he ran back so quickly just to avoid encountering him.

Much to your relief, Vil sighed and interjected without even standing from his throne. Furrowing his eyebrows, he scolded in an irked tone, “I didn’t summon you to pester my little retainer, Rook. Stress from you is not what my retainer needs right now. It causes wrinkles.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty.” Rook chuckled, obediently turning to fully face the royal as you stood stiffly beside him, keeping a safe distance between you two.

Behind you, out of the corner of your eye, you could see Epel quietly closing the doors once Vil gestured for him to do so. It seemed the king wanted privacy, he wished to say something not even the guards outside the thick wooden doors were allowed to hear. The only ones that would be witnesses to his words were you, Epel, and Rook. You had to wonder what was so secretive that he didn’t even want his soldiers stationed outside to hear, and why were you allowed to hear? Was it because you were supposedly in the role of his trusted retainer? Maybe it had something to do with that cover-up he mentioned just a short time ago.

The tension in the room was thick, it disturbed you and you can tell it bothered the short purple-haired young man too if his growing perturbed frown was anything to go by. Despite this, he took up the space beside you. The blonde with the bow, Rook, who you now were assuming to be a huntsman if his attire and weapons were any giveaway, continued to smile without much of a care. Rook was on the left, Epel was on the right, and you were in the center, and still on his throne was King Vil. With luck, you’ll be able to keep up this act. It wouldn’t do for a retainer to fail. It might cost you and be the slip-up that would put an end to this charade of survival.

“I’ve decided. Rook, the duties I normally give to my retainer will be passed onto you today. You’re much more suited for this job. It involves my little step-brother, Neige.” The way he said the prince’s name made it sound like it pained him just to utter it, like it burned his tongue just to mention him. But he continued. “It seems he’s been working hard at completing his chores, hm? He’s been begging for a day out, and he adores flowers so… Rook, you will take him far into the woods, a secluded meadow where he can pick as many wildflowers as his little heart desires.”

Once you processed his words, you froze. It dawned on you that it was happening, this was the moment in the story when the beautiful queen commanded her huntsman to murder the princess in the woods. Vil must’ve already consulted the magic mirror and was told that he was no longer the fairest in all the land. That title now officially belonged to Neige, but it wouldn’t for long if the king had anything to say about it.

The other two loyal and trusted by the king had no idea, as Epel appeared vaguely bored and disinterested while Rook seemed elated. “Of course! I’ll see to it that it is done, Your Majesty––!”

“I’m not finished.” Vil interrupted, frowning tersely as his gaze turned cold. Tapping his well-manicured nails against the armrest of his throne, his eyes narrowed and he leaned an inch forward while instructing, “There, you will kill him.”

The shock was immediately evident on the face of the two beside you. Epel, who had been quiet throughout this entire exchange, finally broke his silence with a small gasp as he moved to cover his mouth with one hand. But it was too late, everyone had already heard him and seen his stunned expression. And yet, no one seemed to really care. Everyone was far too engrossed in what was just said by the king.

Rook appeared just as confounded before disbelief took root, as if he didn’t even wish to believe his own two ears. Removing his hat, he held it to his chest and lowered his head respectfully as he placed a hesitant foot forward. “Your Majesty, our beautiful and lovely Vil, you can’t possibly mean–– our prince Neige…!”

“Silence!” Immediately standing from his seat, he scowled, the prince’s name only making his rage more bitter. And then, he said something unexpected, something off script and never in the story. Gesturing to you, he hissed, “My loyal retainer here could make six souls vanish without a trace, why can’t you do it with one mere prince? Must they do everything? Must I have to dirty my own hands? Hm?”

Lowering his head further, the huntsman replied quietly, somberly, his smile now gone. “Of course not, Your Majesty. Your delicate hands aren’t meant to be soiled…” It’s as you suspected. Rook stayed alive and was one of Vil’s closest servants because he was witty enough to think of something on the spot that was complimentary enough to appease the bitter royal. At least, that’s what it seemed like at the moment. For now, you were grateful you weren’t him. Some people who read the story of Snow White liked to theorize that the huntsman was murdered by the vicious queen for failing to assassinate the princess.

Vil was quiet, not completely calm judging by his sneer but he was composed enough not to say anything more. Standing tall, his gaze honed in on you and Epel, to which he spoke, “My loyal, diligent retainer, escort my successor out. I need to have a word with Rook, privately.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

[sgiandubh]

Whiskey, not whisky

Kentucky bourbon it is, for McTavish, as formally announced on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/reel/CvxuLwXBDgt/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA%3D%3D.

Website, here: https://mctavishspirits.com/. Very instructive: The Sassenach vs. The Warchief. How original.

With a hefty pricetag. Heh, and Mordor thought the Sassenach was a rip-off?

The similarities apparently also extend to the marketing pitch: young, struggling actor dreams big, goes to the States, finds relative critical success there, walks down memory lane. And shares with the world his real, real passion he's "been working on for a while".

Yes. I am selling it. I don't have to pay for it, but... you do. Ugh. I have no words, wow. Oh, the entitlement and the smugness. Completely expected.

Let's unpack:

This is by no means or stretch of imagination a whimsical, vanity project and is carefully differentiated from a white label, which would have meant that the guy was basically lending his beard and voice to the (generic) product, in the hopes it will sell well enough and for as long as possible. No: it is, to quote the leaflet, "meticulously hand selected". Oh.

This is also a long-shot, well prepared blow:

Sorry: the website thinks I am a robot, even if there's just one and only R2D2 in our universe, but you should be able to get more details by yourselves. It is an LLC (easy-peasy, no hassle), filed on July 27 2023.

For the moment, the SM reactions are rather glacial. Sam's crowd is not amused, and with good reason:

I saw it coming, now the elephant is on the couch in the middle of the parlor and I have to say I am still perplexed, in a way, even if I shouldn't.

Sam's project is not the only thing he copies, btw. Check this out:

Yes, it's a Scottish brand I know absolutely nothing about (all input welcome), but still (http://thespiritscompany.com/portfolio/sir-mactavish-scotch-whisky/?age-verified=4b7d1b53bb):

McTavish, Sir Mactavish... Potato, potahto. In Europe, and specifically the EU , it would go to court for trademark infringement in 4, 3, 2, 1, especially since it could cause confusion, deception, or mistake. For comparison, Sassenach's German lost legal battle was sparked by way less than that: a mere partial homophony with the (obscure?) Sasse distillery in Schoppingen, somewhere in Westphalia (https://www.dailyrecord.co.uk/entertainment/celebrity/sam-heughan-loses-legal-battle-25578518 - this is the link I found first). But McTavish is clever enough to clearly go for the US market first and foremost.

And as a reminder, in S's situation, the European Union Intellectual Property Office (EUIPO)'s position has been particularly, and might I add, gratuitously, aggressive. I am intrigued enough and might get back to this in a separate post: don't hold your breath, though.

I still need to digest that and the question asked a couple of evenings ago remains open: what prompted S's sudden change of schedule? McTavish Anon might have been onto something, perhaps.

Tu quoque, McTavish? MIK, my earasaid. Now you understand why the sudden, subtle change on S's Twitter bio? Not only related to the SAG-AFTRA strike, I bet whatever you want on it (there's only a limited number of times I can bet my farm, heh).

[Much later edit, November 2023: It turns out this is an unashamed white label project. My bad for not immediately seeing it.]

[lemoncrushh]

Seven Six Five - Part Five

Summary: They met once seven years ago. Now music has made them cross paths again.

Warnings: smut, body image issues, angst. 18+ ONLY!

A/N: Enemies to Lovers. This was originally written and posted in 2020, right before the pandemic, so the story takes place then with flashbacks of 2013. Harry Styles x Plus Size OC, written in third person.

Part Five Word Count: 4.9k+

STORY PAGE

29 February, 2020 - New York, NY, USA

Bronwyn walked home from the Corner Cafe after an early lunch meeting with Antonella. There’d been no celebrity sightings this time, although she found herself checking her phone for new messages from Harry. None had come yet, and despite her knowledge that he’d be busy, she couldn’t hide the disappointment.

Arriving at her building, she took the steps and shoved her phone into her coat pocket. When she opened the door, she smiled at the postman who was doing his Saturday deliveries.

“Number 102, right?” he asked.

“Um, yes sir,” Bronwyn replied.

“Have a package for you.”

The postman handed her a large, thin box and asked her to sign for it. Perplexed as she hadn’t ordered anything, and was not expecting any post, she noticed the Express label on the front and the California zip code.

“Thank you,” she muttered, her eyes on the package as she took the stairs to her flat.

Shutting the door, she leant against it as her fingers found the edge of the box and pulled the tab. Who would be sending her something from California, she had no idea, but when she pulled out the familiar album cover, she gasped.

Harry.

Setting the record on the counter, Stevie’s figure adorning the cover in a red dress as she crouched on a black and white chessboard floor, Bronwyn, took her phone out of her pocket and shook one arm out of her coat. Pulling up Harry’s contact, she began to text him with one hand.

Did you have a record sent to me through the post?

Placing the phone next to the album, she shrugged out of her coat completely and hung it on the rack by the door. Running her hands through her hair, she didn’t expect to receive a reply right away, but was surprised when she heard the notification.

Oh good, it came.

???, she texted back.

Suddenly, her phone rang in her hand, causing her to almost drop it. Answering the call, Bronwyn went straight into her objection and confusion.

“The postmark says California. Why would you have a used record shipped to me from there?”

She heard Harry chuckle through the phone, and instantly she regretted not giving a proper greeting.

“It’s not just used, love,” he said. “It’s mine.”

“Yours?”

“From my personal collection. I had it sent overnight from my house.”

“W- Harry. W-why would you do that?” Realising she probably sounded vulnerable, Bronwyn tried to laugh it off, making a joke. “You couldn’t find a copy here in New York? I mean, this one is in near perfect condition, but I don’t reckon this album is that hard to find.”

“Mmm…” Harry sounded, sending a vibration through the phone. “That particular one is.”

“How so?”

“Look inside.”

Opening the sleeve, Bronwyn pulled out a sheet of paper with lyrics on it. Although she recognised the handwriting, it took a moment for it to register. Stevie’s.

“Oh my God!” Bronwyn shouted.

“Those are Stevie’s original lyrics to a song on there that I really like,” explained Harry.

“‘Ooh My Love’. It’s one of my favourites too.”

“She gave them to me,” Harry said. “Now they’re yours.”

“Oh God, Harry, I can’t accept this!” Bronwyn gasped as she sat down shakily on her sofa, the record and lyrics still in her hands.

“Why not?”

“This is...way too special. You should keep it!”

“I want you to have it,” he declared.

“Why?”

“Because you lost your copy of the album. Mine was just sitting there collecting dust. And you’re the only other person I know who would appreciate it as much as I do.”

Chills ran throughout her body as Bronwyn tried to catch her breath and evaluate her emotions.

“I don’t...know what to say…” she finally murmured, feeling her eyes start to well up.

“Say you’ll have dinner with me tonight.”

“Oh, Harry I-”

“I’m free all evening after...six o’clock. I’d really like to spend it with you.”

Unable to hold back the smile that crept on her lips, Bronwyn instantly felt a pang in her chest as she remembered.

“Harry, I’d love to,” she admitted. “But I have to work tonight.”

“Oh.” She could hear the disappointment in his one little word.

“It’s a local band,” Bronwyn continued. “From Queens. They’re playing downtown, and I’ve done a write-up on them before so they asked me…”

Her words stalling with a jolt, she had a brilliant idea. “Actually...would you like to join me?”

“Oh, I-”

“You totally don’t have to. You probably wouldn’t get recognised too much, at least not a mob. But I could understand if you don’t want t-”

“I’d love to,” Harry interjected.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Should be fun.”

“Great! Um...they go on stage around nine, and I have to be there a little early, so...meet me here around eight?”

“I have a better idea. I’ll come at seven and bring dinner.”

“Harry, you don’t have to…”

“Stop saying that,” he argued. “You have to eat, right?”

“Right. Seven it is.”

“Yes, it was a strain on her, watching her castles fall down…”

Bronwyn sang along to Stevie as she stood in the bathroom, preparing for the evening. Her hand shook as she applied her eyeliner, the thin pen slipping from her fingers and falling into the sink.

“Bloody hell,” she muttered under her breath and picked up the pen. “Get a grip, Bronwyn.”

Never had she felt so nervous before...a date. Was this a date? Harry had made it seem like it was, promising to bring dinner and all. However, she hadn’t wanted to be presumptuous, given that he was leaving in a couple of days. But, she didn’t want to think about that.

Putting the finishing touches on her makeup, Bronwyn slipped into her boots and had just stepped through the beaded curtain when the buzzer sounded. Seven o’clock on the nose.

“Hi love, it’s me,” she heard him call through the speaker, which only added to the butterflies gathering in her stomach.

Buzzing him into the building, she waited for the knock before opening the door. He stood on the other side, a bag in each hand and a grin on his face.

“I come bearing gifts,” he beamed, lifting both bags. “If you consider food and wine gifts, that is.”

“Well, who the hell wouldn’t?” Bronwyn quipped, taking one of the bags.

She headed for the kitchen, Harry on her heels. Placing the bag on the counter, she watched him do the same with the other bag before he looked at her.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” she grinned. Then she turned back to the bags. “Okay, thanks for the dinner, have a good night!”

Harry chuckled which only made her lose her poker face and start giggling.

“C’mere,” he said, reaching for her.

Happy to oblige, Bronwyn fell into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck. She beamed up at him, taking in the twinkle in his eyes as he smiled back. Then tilting his head, Harry kissed her gently, his soft cherry lips tenderly caressing hers.

“You look incredible,” he cooed against her skin, his breath falling over her mouth.

“Thanks.”

“Now I’m worried I might be underdressed,” he remarked, stepping back to remove his jacket. He wore a simple graphic t-shirt with jeans that flared at the bottoms, and his black trainers.

“Don’t be silly,” said Bronwyn. “You look...perfect, actually.”

Harry’s lips twitched into a smile. “Thanks. I reckoned we’d be going to a bar so...didn’t dress up.”

“I might have sent you to change if you’d shown up in that blue jumper,” she teased.

“Heeeyyy.”

With a laugh, Bronwyn took Harry’s jacket and walked to the door to hang it on the rack. She could feel his eyes on her as she turned back around. She liked the way his gaze made her feel. She’d chosen one of her vintage dresses for the evening, a green and black chequered one with long sleeves. She’d always felt pretty in it, but the way he looked at her made her feel indescribable.

“I’ll get the dishes, if you open the wine,” she smiled as she passed him on the way back to the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah,” he blinked, reaching in the first bag. “Where’s your corkscrew?”

“Right drawer,” she said, grabbing two wine glasses and two plates from the cupboard.

Bronwyn watched Harry effortlessly open the bottle of wine, pouring a generous amount into each glass before placing them on her table.

“Hey, I hear Stevie,” he commented.

Bronwyn snorted. “Took you long enough.”

“Well, I was distracted,” Harry smirked as he reached into the second bag. “I hope salmon and greek salad is okay. I wasn’t sure if you ate meat, or had a preference. I should’ve asked, sorry.”

Bronwyn glared at him, then looked down and opened her arms wide. “Do I look like a picky eater to you?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Stop it, you.”

“I’m just saying…” Bronwyn shrugged. “But yes, that’s fine. Sounds delicious, really.”

As soon as their plates were loaded, Harry and Bronwyn took seats at her tiny table, a small candle burning in the center of it.

“Just realised this is my first time here at night. It’s really nice,” smiled Harry as his eyes darted around the room at the ambience. Candles were scattered about, giving it a warm and twinkling glow. “I like the candles; they’re very you. And they go with Stevie.”

Bronwyn’s cheeks blushed pink as she remembered lighting the candles before he came. “They’re not too much?”

“Not at all.” Lifting his glass, Harry urged Bronwyn to do the same. “Cheers.”

The nerves suddenly came rushing back again as Bronwyn took a sip of the light, crisp wine. She hoped it would ease some of the jitters, although she didn’t want to seem a lush. After a few bites of the delectable dinner, the record stopped, so she rose from the table to turn it over.

“I have to say,” she grinned as she returned, “it’s nice to listen to this again after all these years.”

“I’m glad,” Harry returned her smile. “Exactly when did you move to New York? Not sure if you told me.”

“Summer of twenty-sixteen,” she replied, lifting her glass. “Though sometimes it feels like yesterday.”

“Twenty-sixteen was yesterday,” Harry joked. “What was it like for you after you moved? Was it a culture shock?”

“Not really. At least not like I thought it would be. I’d already traveled here a few times, and as they say, New York is sort of a melting pot of cultures.”

“That’s true,” Harry nodded, his mouth full of salad.

“I met my friend Sylvia my first week here. She lived in this building then and introduced me to some of her friends. She owns her own tailoring shop downtown, and she helped feed my obsession for vintage clothes.”

“Kismet,” Harry grinned.

“Absolutely. I was helping her in her shop for a bit, just doing whatever she needed. I also worked at the Corner Cafe,” Bronwyn laughed. “Just to help with bills, you know. I got a few gigs here and there, but it wasn’t until I found Antonella...that’s my agent...and she started getting me jobs that things really started falling into place. And...well, here I am.”

“That all sounds wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I don’t take anything for granted.”

“Good.” Harry laid his fork on his plate and leant forward. “I’m proud of you too, you know.”

Though his words did sound genuine, it was his tone that sent Bronwyn’s heart aflutter. Shifting nervously in her seat, she looked down at her plate.

“So is this turning into a When Harry Met Sally situation now?” she asked timidly. “We hate each other for years and suddenly become friends?”

“I never hated you, love. That was completely one-sided.”

Pursing her lips, Bronwyn nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Besides,” Harry smirked, another twinkle in his eye, “I believe Harry and Sally fell in love in the end.”

“Alright, so bad analogy.”

Harry’s cackle suddenly rang throughout the tiny flat and increased Bronwyn’s heart rate. She could feel the warmth on her face, and it wasn’t from the wine nor the candles. Wiping her hands on her napkin, she lifted her fork to take another bite of fish, unable to look him in the eye for fear she’d drown.

“I would like to be friends, though,” she heard him comment after a few moments, a small rasp in his voice. Lifting her gaze, she caught the dimple that decided to make its opportune appearance just before he added, “if not more.”

The Double X was a bar downtown, a block from where Bronwyn’s friend Sylvia lived. She pointed out her building to Harry before the taxi driver pulled up in front of the venue. She saw him reach for his wallet and stopped him, her hand over his.

“I’ve got this, Harry,” she insisted, handing the driver her card. When she detected the hesitation on his face, she winked. “I might let you buy me a drink later.”

Sliding out of the cab, Harry followed Bronwyn up the steps to where a large man stood to check IDs. He seemed to recognise Bronwyn, giving her a nod.

“'Ello Joel, good sir!” she greeted him. “I ‘ave comp’ny this evenin’.”

“I see that,” Joel remarked, jotting his chin out. “He have an ID on him?”

“Wha’? This be me best mate fro’ London, ‘arry Styles. You migh’ o’ ‘eard o’ ‘im!”

His mouth in a straight line that told Harry he was in no mood to play a trivia game of who’s who, Joel took the stamp he was holding and marked each of their hands. Once inside, the smell of smoke hitting them instantly, Harry chuckled in Bronwyn’s ear.

“What was that all about?” he inquired.

“I’ve been coming here since I moved to New York, so I know everyone who works here. When they first found out I was from London, they kept asking me to talk. Apparently they think everyone in the UK has a Cockney accent. So I sort of lay it on thick.”

Harry laughed as he ran his hand down her back. “Brilliant.”

Before she got the chance to recover from the chills his light touch had sent throughout her body, another voice boomed from behind the bar.

“London!” the man called. “Haven’t seen you around lately, sweetheart!”

“Been busy, love!” Bronwyn sang before pulling the strap of her camera bag over her shoulder with one hand and grabbing Harry’s with the other. She pulled him towards the bar, where she started the introductions. “Harry, this is Nikoli, though he prefers Nick. Only I’m allowed to call him Nikoli. And Nikoli, darling, this is Harry.”

“Pleasure, Nick,” said Harry, holding out his hand.

“Likewise,” nodded the bartender with a handshake. “You’re famous or somethin’, right?

“Shhh,” Bronwyn hushed with her finger to her lips before giving both men a wink. “So, are the boys here yet, Nikoli?”

“Yeah, they’re in the back. Should be out in a few. Can I get you guys somethin’ to drink?”

“Nothing for me just yet,” replied Bronwyn as she removed her coat, “but you can start a tab for Harry.”

Raising his brows, Harry glared at her. “You’re making me drink alone?”

“Only for now,” she beamed at him. “The wine from earlier is still getting to me. Besides, I have work to do.”

Shrugging out of his jacket, Harry claimed a stool and ordered a drink whilst Bronwyn removed her camera from her bag. He watched her as she seemed to set up her scene, deciding where to stand to take photos. She snapped a few of the empty stage before backing up, nearly bumping into him.

“Sorry, love,” she said, barely brushing her fingers across his thigh. “Mind watching my bag for me?”

“Course not,” he replied.

The look he gave her was enough to make her lose her cool and forget about the task at hand. With a quick blink, however, she turned back around and aimed her camera just as a pair of long, black denim-clad legs stepped onto the stage and took a place behind the drum kit. One hoot from the back of the room sounded as the rest of the band climbed on stage and slung guitars over their heads. Only the bloke in the center seemed to recognise Bronwyn, and he gave her a thumbs up before counting off the first song.

The band, somewhat of a cross between pop-punk and 90s grunge, were already three songs into their set before Bronwyn made her way back to Harry and the bar. With possibly the widest grin he’d seen on her face in the last few days, she paused in front of him, her chest heaving.

“Reckon I could use that drink now,” she declared with a wiggle of her brows. With her free hand on Harry’s knee, she leant forward. “Nikoli, darling, the usual?”

“You got it, babe,” called the bartender, grabbing a bottle of golden brown liquor.

“Are you having fun?” she asked Harry, catching his eye. Though she stood very close, she had to speak loud over the music.

“The time of my life,” he grinned, lifting his glass to his lips.

“Pfff,” Bronwyn sounded as Nick handed her her drink. “When they’ve finished this set, we can go sit over there.”

Harry followed her finger to where it pointed in the corner of the room, a large booth.

“Shall I go claim it now, before it gets too crowded?”

Bronwyn took a gander around the room, noticing in fact that it was starting to fill.

“Might be a good idea,” she nodded.

Sliding off his stool, Harry grabbed their coats and Bronwyn’s camera bag. “I’ll take these with me.”

“Thanks baby,” she beamed before planting a kiss on his cheek.

She didn’t miss the adorable look on his face before he turned for the booth. Catching the eye of Drea, one of the cocktail waitresses, she walked up to her.

“Hey girl, you look hot tonight!” exclaimed Drea. “And you brought some eye candy of your own, I see!”

“Thanks love,” said Bronwyn. “Listen, do me a favor? I hate to ask for special treatment but...well, he is rather special…”

“Say no more, hon!” Drea shook her head. “I got your back.”

“I owe you one!”

“No you don’t,” argued Drea. “You bring more business than anybody. It’s probably ‘cause of you we’re still open.”

Bronwyn watched Drea lift her tray and turn toward the booth that Harry now occupied. With a feeling of satisfaction, she set for the other side of the room to take more photos of the band.

After a couple more songs, the singer announced they were taking five, and the band stepped off the stage one by one. Camera in hand, Bronwyn began to cross the room when the singer stopped her.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” he smiled.

“Of course, Austin, you know I would, anytime you asked.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Austin looked at the ground. “That’s so nice of you.”

“C’mon,” beckoned Bronwyn. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Austin followed her to the booth where Drea was just delivering Harry’s freshly made cocktail. As soon as Bronwyn began the introductions, she saw Austin’s jaw drop.

“No way!” he exclaimed incredulously. Then he looked at Bronwyn. “You know Harry Styles?”

With a gleeful laugh, Bronwyn nodded. Harry, no surprise, offered his hand to the young man.

“Nice to meet you, Austin. Sounding good up there.”

“Aw, thanks man!” Austin blushed. “I can’t believe you’d come to see us.”

“Well, to be honest, the company is the reason I came,” Harry smirked, side-eyeing Bronwyn who’d just slid into the booth beside him. She giggled when he squeezed her knee under the table.

“Ah, I get it, man. Bronwyn’s a cool chick. Her pictures and articles of us are probably the only reason we get booked for gigs anywhere in New York,” Austin snorted.

“Oh hush, you,” Bronwyn waved off his comment. “It’s because you’re good, and you know it.”

As Austin turned his head, he caught sight of one his bandmates who strutted over.

“Hey man, look who’s here,” he told him.

“No shit!” the tall blond cackled. “Somebody said he was here, but I didn’t believe it. Good to meet ya, man, I’m Jeremy.”

Jeremy and Harry exchanged hellos and handshakes, and soon enough, the rest of the band followed. Sipping on her drink that Drea had brought over, Bronwyn was happy to see her friends so elated. However, she didn’t want to make Harry’s appearance too big of a deal, so she was glad when the band returned to the stage. Grabbing her camera once again, she started to slide out of the booth.

“I’ll be back in just a few,” she paused to tell Harry. “I only have to take a handful of photos until the last song.”

“Okay,” he grinned, his eyes already starting to get glassy.

“Still having a good time?”

“The best.” Before she could anticipate it, Harry slipped his hand behind her neck and pulled her into a kiss. It only lasted for a second, but Bronwyn could feel it down to her toes.

“Be right back,” she whispered against his mouth.

That kiss made it hard to concentrate on her job, but Bronwyn managed to take several great live shots before opting for a break. Stopping at the booth, she smiled at Harry and returned her camera to its case.

“Going to the ladies’,” she announced.

Harry gave her a wink to which she responded with an air kiss. Once in the tiny stall, she let herself exhale loudly. All of the feelings she’d had that night seven years ago had returned full force. Not the bad feelings when she’d thought Harry had intentionally hurt her, but the good ones she’d experienced before that moment. Every nerve in her body tingled and her skin was on fire. She wanted him just as badly as she had that night...no, she wanted him more. A thousand times more.

At the sink, she splashed a little water on her face, hoping it would cool her a bit. It helped ease the warmth on her skin, but not the burning flames rising inside her body. With another breath, she opened the door and nearly ran into Drea.

“Oh girl, you’re so lucky!” she cheered. “He’s an absolute doll!”

“He is, isn’t he?” she heard herself say, not that she wanted to deny it. Not anymore.

“And he’s kept his eyes on you all night.”

“He has?”

“Oh God, hon, yes! I was watching him when I asked him if he wanted another drink, and when I brought it to him. His eyes were glued. I’d say he’s smitten.”

Biting her lip, Bronwyn returned to the booth and slid in beside Harry.

“Okay, I’m really back this time,” she said.

“Good,” Harry grinned, leaning forward so his forehead almost pressed against hers. “I was starting to get lonely.”

“I doubt that,” Bronwyn jeered. “I’m willing to bet anyone in this place would be happy to come sit with you.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “I don’t want just anyone, though.”

Bronwyn chuckled. “Someone’s drunk.”

“No. Just feel good.”

“Oh. That’s good to know.”

Bronwyn lifted her hand then and ran the back of it against the stubble on Harry’s chin. He shut his eyes and let out another low hum, sending a vibration through her fingers. She was just about to allow her lips to brush his when she heard her name come from the stage.

“That’s her over there!” Austin shouted into the microphone. “With our new buddy, Harry. She’s fucking awesome, you guys. We probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her. So raise your glasses, your bottles, whatever you got...raise ‘em up high for Bronwyn! This song’s for you, babe!”

“Shut up!” Bronwyn exclaimed, immediately slapping her hand over her mouth as the band kicked into the rock song.

She felt Harry’s hand take hers then, threading their fingers together. She looked up at him, his face aglow with pride. Her eyes began to well up, but she quickly wiped them with a cocktail napkin before pulling out her camera.

“Guess I should take a few more shots and call it a night.”

Rising from the booth, Bronwyn made her way through the crowd, taking a few photos up front, next to the stage, and then scanning the perimeter. Austin smiled, giving her another thumbs up, which she took a shot of before lowering her camera and blowing him a kiss. Then returning to her date, she slid in next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

“That was sweet,” she commented.

“Looks like I’m not the only one you’ve made an impression on,” Harry murmured in her ear.

“Oh hush,” she spat, swatting at him with her hand. “He’s like nineteen.”

“So was I,” Harry laughed.

“Yes, but I was only twenty-two then.”

“Wait. That means you’re...twenty-nine? Oh my God, you old woman! What was I thinking?”

“Stop!” Bronwyn cackled, reaching over to tickle him but only managing to get herself pinned inside the booth.

His breath grazed over her lips and she smelled the tequila as her giggles slowed to a stop and she looked into his eyes. Though they were heavily hooded, she could still make out the twinkle.

“When do I get to take you home?” he slurred.

As though on cue, the band played their final drum beats, ending on a strong chord echoed by reverb. The crowd cheered and Austin thanked them before jumping off the stage.

“I guess right now,” Bronwyn breathed.

Slipping out of the booth, she made one last trip to the loo whilst Harry paid the tab. She wasted no time, meeting him at the bar.

“You guys have a great night,” nodded Nick.

“Goodnight Nikoli, darling!” called a very buzzed Bronwyn. “Night Drea!”

She wasn’t sure if Harry carried her out of the bar, or the other way around, but somehow they managed to get a cab. On the ride back to her flat, Bronwyn leant her head back and sighed.

“That was fun, Harry. Did you have fun?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “You’ve asked me that several times.”

“Sorry. Just wanna make sure.”

“I enjoy being with you,” he confessed, reaching for her hand. “And I’ve realised something about you tonight.”

“What’s that?” Bronwyn asked, turning her head to look at him.

“You’re in your element when you’re in public.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean...at your flat...you seemed almost timid and shy. Like you were afraid to tell me what you were thinking. Kind of vulnerable, I guess. Not that it’s a bad thing. It’s just...when you’re out in a place like this...just like the night we met...you’re so much more…”

“Flirty?”

“I was gonna say alive,” Harry chucked, “but yeah.”

“It’s a facade, Harry,” Bronwyn declared with a straight face.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t like being vulnerable. Especially around people I don’t know that well. So I pretend I’m not. The way I see it…” she paused, looking down at their joint hands, “if I come off as confident and flirty from the get go, no one is ever the wiser. That’s how they think I am all the time. So...everyone wins.”

“But you’re not like that all the time.”

Bronwyn considered his words, then raised a brow and shrugged. “We all have a dark side, Harry.”

“I didn’t say it was a dark side, I just-”

“Which me did you invite to your hotel room?”

Bronwyn stared at Harry for a moment, waiting for an answer, perhaps. But she knew what the answer was, so the point was moot. The silence grew between them as the taxi drove through the city and arrived at her flat.

“I’ll um...understand if you don’t wanna come up,” she muttered.

“What? Why wouldn’t I?” Harry glared at her incredulously.

“I mean...if you changed your mind.”

“I didn’t.”

“Okay.”

Bronwyn wanted to kick herself as she climbed out of the cab and up the stairs. She heard Harry’s footsteps following hers up the hardwood floor, stopping at her door. She wanted to take back what she’d said, yet she’d known it was the truth. The air was thick between them, and she wanted to clear it and start anew. As she put her key in the lock, however, Harry beat her to it. She froze in her spot as she felt him brush her hair off her shoulder and lower his head to kiss her neck, ever so softly. His breath in her ear and against her skin sent such shivers through her body, she almost dropped her keys. As she lifted her chin for him to get a better aim, she felt his chest press against her back until he turned her around to face him. Trapped between his body and the still locked door, she looked into his eyes. They seemed to plead with her, silently before he tilted his head and caressed her lips.

“Harry…” she gasped, her eyes still closed.

“It might’ve been the other you that nineteen-year-old me invited to his hotel room,” she heard him say, making her eyes flutter open to reveal his beautiful, sincere face. “But it’s this Bronwyn...the one who’s stood before me now...that I’m asking to sleep with me tonight.”

**dramatic music**

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MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[tiredly101]

Villains still need grocery too, y'know?

Pairing: Howdy Pillar x Villain!Male reader

Illustrated Au, this post was adopted from another account because they are deleting it soo I adopted it with permission of the original author, I did make some changes to adapt it to my writing style! Picture done by @clownsuu

Eggs. M/n needed eggs, badly. He had a brilliant idea to egg Home, that house had been getting on his nerves for a while now. Home had caused a ruckus whenever he’d spot M/n causing mayhem thus ruining some of his incredibly thought out pranks and so he decided to egg him.

Sure it may be unoriginal but sometimes the classics work the best and egging Home seemed like the perfect way to get him back for ruining such beautiful prank. The only problems is, the only way to get eggs is from Howdy. This would normally be no problem if one, Howdy didn’t know your very, very, extensive history of causing trouble and buying 50 eggs in one trip would definitely ring some alarm bells and two asking Howdy for that many eggs would be so embarrassing.

He would think you were a weirdo or maybe he didn’t have enough eggs and it would inconvenience him or perhaps M/n drops the eggs on the way out causing a mess. The idea of M/n making a fool of himself in front of Howdy was out of the question.

M/! was suffering until a brilliant idea popped in his head, he would send a letter to Howdy saying that one of the villagers overheard you wanted to bake a giant cake but didn’t have enough eggs so they wanted to deliver them to you, it was honestly a flawless plan.

That was until when M/n sent said anonymous letter to Eddie Dear for him to send off to Howdy, he decided to open it the second he got it. Which lead to a lot of confusion when the Wally Darling stood in his store buying a single apple seemed to request 50 eggs in his letter. Why wouldn’t Wally just ask while he was there?

"Hey Wally, do you just want your eggs now since your here?," Asked Howdy earning confused look from Wally.

"Eggs? What eggs, neighbour?," Wally asked with a dopey but perplexed look. "How odd...," Howdy thought.

If this letter wasn’t from Wally who could it be from? As the cogs in his brain started turning he came up with a solution, he’ll just come and give M/n the eggs himself! He had a bit of spare time and the shop was pretty quiet today so he decided he would grabs the eggs and bring them over to M/n house as a special delivery.

Howdy then started to make his way over with many crates in hands and he decided to peek through the window to see if M/n was at home. Instead he looked straight in to see a drawing pinned to the wall of a very familiar house with very obvious eggs covering it for head to toe or more specifically roof to floor and then it clicked. M/n wasn't making a cake, he wanted to egg Home and now he was very aware of your many pranks and mischievous deeds but actually seeing your plan he let out a sigh, he was looking forward to try your baking, he was sure it was great.

Although he had never been victim of one of your pranks, surprisingly may he add, he had seen and heard the results of many of them with the village constantly making a fuss and deciding that the prime gossip place was in his store. Howdy couldn’t stay mad at M/n though, although some pranks were more annoying than others he knew M/n never took it to far and quite frankly he found you rather sweet, always being on your best behaviour in his store.

Not to mention M/n was the most beautiful guy he ever encountered him but he couldn't be thinking of that right now, he should be telling M/n off for his evil plotting and as if by magic, sensing he was there, M/n opened the door.

Both, equally as shocked babbled messy excuses of what they were doing here although there was perfectly good reason for M/n to be in his house he still felt the need to tell him that he were plotting. Quickly realising his mistake M/n shut his mouth looking rather guilty until Howdy chuckled letting him know he knew what you were up to.

Shocked, mostly embarrassed, and guilty M/n profoundly apologised to him and instead Howdy just shushed you.

"It’s okay silly, just maybe instead of egging home make that cake? I’ll even help you with it," said Howdy and without hesitation M/n agreed leading Howdy into his house blushing as red as an apple and bringing out all you cake ingredients.

Part of M/n wanted this moment to last forever and the other part desperately wishing it would hurry up and end. The embarrassment was killing him but soon your worries melted away since as the cake was baking he took your hands in his and started swaying with M/n to music he had playing.

"Why do you never do any pranks in my shop?," Asked Howdy curiously while dancing softly with M/n and he smiled while looking up at him.

"Villains still need grocery too, y'know?," Said M/n which made Howdy smile softly and chuckle which made M/n's face be overtakes with a shy smile.

"Haha.. I think I prefer it when your not causing mayhem around the village, but then again it’s very endearing how silly you look when you do it," Howdy mumbled out catching both of them guard as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud. Howdy apologised quickly not wanting to offend M/n but he quickly reassured him with a soft kiss in his lips that you feel the same way.

"Perhaps villainy and entropy could wait if the alternative is happy moment like this with him"

[aristocratic-otter]

An Ask Game for Writers to Procrastinate Working on Your WIP(s)

Thank you to @theearlgreymage and @wellbelesbian for the tag. I haven't done this one before

(Original Ask Game)

1. 🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s):

I'll go with TikTok dancer, because it's one of only two I haven't published yet, and the other is my COBB so I can't give too much away on it.

2. 🍄Describe your WIP/one of your WIP(s) in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Simon Snow + the Pacific Ocean = Dancing Sea Lion

3. 🌍What tags or warnings will your / one of your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it?

It is very very explicit. Simon is a slut in this one.

4. 🧭An alternative title to your/ one of your WIP(s)?

Honestly? This is the only name I've come up with for it. I may change it, but I tend to be fairly resolute when it comes to my titles.

5. ⚠️Which WIP your most likely to finish or update next?

Probably Cupid's Shield. I'll be updating Cupid's Shield and Saving Simon Snow in the next few days. The next chapter of Stars, Flowers, and Children ought to go up by Wednesday.

6. 💾What is your document of your WIP/ a WIP called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

I always save my docs under their title once I have the title. Before that, I call it by a descriptive phrase, like "cobb 2024" or "Tiktok AU"

7. 🖍Post Any sentence(s) from your WIP.

Simon Snow is standing above me, looking at me with a perplexed expression. I quickly get my own expression under control. “Hello?” I say coolly.

“Baz,” he says, and my eyes widen. I wouldn’t have thought he’d remember my name, given the many similar encounters he must have had over the years. 

“Snow,” I say, neither encouraging nor discouraging this discourse.

For some strange reason though, his eyes light up at the sound of his name and he beams at me. “What?” I say sharply, confused.

He shakes his head and his curls fly about with the motion. “Nothing. It’s just, I like it when you call me that.”

That’s distinctly odd. Don’t people generally prefer to be called by their first names?

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP.

I originally had this ending two different ways, and one of them was mpreg. I shifted away from that idea before I started typing though.

9. 🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

My friend denticles (sorry, forgot your Tumblr user) gifted me an idea that involves Baz being a fanfic writer during the Watford years. I'm excited to start it, but I am determined to finish The Heart in The Well first.

10. 🤡How many WIPS are you actively working on?

lol, you know me. Too many. 8 at the moment.

11. 🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

Not currently. I'm more fighting with deciding how detailed to make upcoming scenes.

12. ❤️Not a question, just a second Kudos to send.

🥰

I'll tag most everyone I know who (I think) has a current WIP, why not?

@iamamythologicalcreature, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @palimpsessed, @frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @melodysmash, @onepintobean, @tea-brigade, @messofthejess, @larkral, @confused-bi-queer, @mooncello, @j-nipper-95, @facewithoutheart, @best--dress, @nightimedreamersghost,  @thewholelemon, @youarenevertooold, @cutestkilla, @artsyunderstudy, @ileadacharmedlife, @hushed-chorus, @prettygoododds, @whatevertheweather, @angelsfalling16, @noblecorgi, @bookish-bogwitch, and @blackberrysummerblog