#day 1: royalty au

[astrobei]

just like magic

It takes one, two, three seconds before Will’s heart starts beating again. And another three before he remembers to be mad at him about it. “Don’t call me that,” he protests weakly, but it’s no use. Mike’s grin only grows.

“Anything for you, Your Highness.”

“Michael,” Will hisses, yanking his hand away, but Mike is already laughing. It’s always been easy to get a rise out of him where Mike is involved, which is a fact Mike not only knows, but exploits on the regular. “I’m going to put the venom back in your arm and let your flesh rot off your body.”

Will really wishes Mike would learn that armor does not equate to invincibility. For Mike's own sake, it's probably a good thing Will knows magic.

[catboy-cabin]

happy byler week :)))) cleradin my beloved <3333

i decided on a whim last night that i will be participating (on most days at least) but i am ✨extremely underprepared✨ and now i'm suffering for it haha. i like how this drawing turned out though <3

closeups + info under the cut!

time: 2hr 41min program: ibispaint x

[wackus-bonkus-maximus]

TRICK OR TREAT

helloo my dear sunny! looks like you are dressed up as THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE! got some as yet the glass seems true felix pov for you from the upcoming chapter 🦚

By all accounts, the prince was flawless—incredibly, obnoxiously, and detrimentally so. Every post and tag and mention of him on social media was nothing but fawning flattery. Every news article and interview painted him as some sort of saint. And even his three hangers-on couldn’t seem to stay away from him. Wherever Adrien went, besides official royal business, there they were too. Félix watched them on the grass, illuminated by a spot of sunlight, laughing at something on the taller girl’s phone. He recognized Alya Césaire from her ever-growing Ladyblog, had seen her face often enough post-Akuma attacks and in paparazzi shots to know she often ran in the same circles as Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Adrien. But she was the most interesting of Adrien’s minimal amount of friends. The boy with his arm around her was Nino Lahiffe—a name Félix had no trouble discerning after scrolling through Alya’s personal account for half a minute, finding too many stills and reels of Nino DJ-ing above a dancing crowd. They had gone to school together, and maybe even been together just as long. Which was probably why Marinette Dupain-Cheng was always there, too.  A fashion student, a part-time baker, and a chronic absentee. She only made it to about half the classes Adrien did, Félix noticed. And Adrien missed quite a bit of classes himself—for no good reason at all, sometimes. But they were quite close. Félix could see it now, from his perch on the terrace. Marinette’s knee touched Adrien’s where they sat, their posture inclined toward each other as they leaned in to watch on Alya’s phone. Every so often, one would steal a look at the other.  At last, Adrien caught her in the act. Marinette turned a deep red and looked away. Adrien grinned.  Félix felt a bit sick. 

hope you like <3

from the ask box trick-or-treat (fic writer edition)

[alpinelogy]

Help I accidentally wrote 1617 words long outline (+200 ish as extra notes) for a redbull!alex sargebon that I do not have the time to write rn

Might just dump it under a read later at some point... its a mess of bullet points but new beloved unlocked. this all happened cause I was thinking that I had so little sargebon longfic ideas. help

[morrigan-cotk95]

First fic for Twinsduo Week!!!

[wisheduponastar]

Rose Gardens at Midnight (F/M, 1k words)

For Day 1 of @flufftober. Inspired by the prompt : "I've got you"

Smiling, Kaede sniffed at the midnight air all around her - clean and fresh, with a constant undertone of roses. Sweet, fragrant ones - some that smelt like honey, and others that smelt like turkish delight. All amazing, and just strong enough for her to be able to smell them when walking in the rose gardens, but weak enough that they weren’t overpowering. They were a beautiful backdrop to her midnight walks, not the main event.

------

Kaede sits in her rose garden at midnight, admiring its views. During the night, Shuichi shows up - and they talk

No TWs apply // Royalty AU // Late Night Conversations // Read on Ao3

Smiling, Kaede sniffed at the midnight air all around her - clean and fresh, with a constant undertone of roses. Sweet, fragrant ones - some that smelt like honey, and others that smelt like turkish delight. All amazing, just strong enough for her to be able to smell them when walking in the rose gardens, but weak enough that they weren’t overpowering. They were a beautiful backdrop to her midnight walks, not the main event.

And she was so grateful to the gardeners who were able to maintain this place, to make every rose be so beautiful and perfect. They all bloomed wonderfully during the day, and even at night the perfectly pristine petals were lovely. They were weak enough to be peeled back with the slightest bit of force, showing off their large and intricate designs - while feeling velvety smooth.

There were so many colours in the rose garden as well, beautiful during the day and during night-time. They looked different in the moonlight, but they looked no less magical - no less pristine. You could have told anyone that the garden was made for night viewings, and looking around, they would have believed it. Something about faint, silvery beams of starlight ethereally lighting up flowers was rather magical. It made you feel as though you were in a story.

Kaede’s favourite part of the rose garden looked just as beautiful in starlight as it did in daytime. The roses contained in it were lush and healthy; some delicate rosebuds no bigger than a baby’s fist, others magnificent and large - ones she would have to hold in two hands for it to fit comfortably. But all were a wondrous snowy white colour, pure like freshly fallen snow - or the feathers of a dove.

At the least they looked an unblemished white during the day with the sun’s rays over them. But at times like this, although some of their petals still had perfect swan-esque finishes, the roses also reflected the moon. Almost pure white, but also (undoubtedly) having magnificent surfaces of a subtle silver. Almost hinting at riches and beauty, or perhaps more shimmering things like opals and jewellery twisted into extravagant pieces, delicate yet astonishingly detailed.

They paired beautifully with the white marble the balcony was made out of; its balustrade looking almost the exact same colour. It was smooth and cold to the touch, yet not unwelcomingly. When she looked at it, Kaede could tell where she leaned on it - the careful polishing had a small indent, just wide enough for both of her wrists to comfortably fit. Kaede didn’t mind what most nobles would see as an imperfection, for her it just showed history - a memory of how much she used this place, and how much it meant to her. The same was shown on the bench here, although to a lesser extent. The ruffles and layers of silk in her normal clothing prevented as much of a mark being made - especially against stone.

Gazing around the garden, Kaede allowed herself to relax in the tranquillity. Sitting patiently and smiling, until suddenly something caught her eye. A procession, marked by golden fire that lit up the otherwise dark patch surrounding the castle, was moving steadily forward. Visitors were arriving at the castle. Curious, she stood up - going to the balcony and leaning over it - trying to see what was happening. For a few seconds she was able to watch them going along, before they were obscured. Alone in the rose garden, Kaede felt herself pout slightly.

Inside the castle grounds, there were many trees - and for some reason they had grown to block her access to the castle’s main grounds, or at least when she was this height. Give her only an extra inch or so, and she would have been perfect - or at least able to see from it, but alas. Looking about the place, Kaede once again considered the merits of bringing a stool to permanently live here, just in case occasions like these happened.

For a second, Kaede didn’t spot Shuichi - afterall, the black clothing he was in didn’t exactly make him visible - but once she did, she smiled. Once she had gotten over the slight nerves of seeing him suddenly appear like that, of course. He smiled back at her and, as if reading her mind, apologised, “I’m sorry for scaring you, it really is just a bad habit.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry!” Kaede reassured him, “Why are you here?”

“Guests at the castle arrive in around an hour, I wanted you to be made aware.”

“And it’s obvious I’m here, huh?”

“I checked your room first,” Shuichi offered, but he didn’t deny it, “This was the next logical choice. The garden is beautiful at this time of light.”

That was something Kaede agreed with, and she looked around the scenery, “You know, the procession has just passed into castle grounds…”

Recognition sparked in Shuichi’s eyes, and he smiled, “Do you want me to hold you up while you look over the balcony?”

“Can you?” Kaede didn’t bother disguising the way her eyes flashed in gratitude, but she did smile and go up to him.

“Of course,” Shuichi answered easily. With a practised ease, Kaede went up onto the balcony - patiently waiting as Shuichi walked up as well, before he gently lifted her up - hands strong and steady, with a reassuring smile.

Now those precious few inches above the ground, Kaede immediately scanned the castle ground to see where the carriages were. Spotting them, she tried to lean forward even more - to get a slightly closer look.

As she went forward, she was suddenly conscious of how far she’d moved - almost as though she was slipping. As though she was plummeting - as though she was-

Strong hands held onto her waist even more firmly, and she was suddenly aware of Shuichi again. Patiently by her side. Hearing her panicked, shortened breaths he gently reassured her, “It’s ok, you won’t fall. I’ve got you.”

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

AU where Straw Hat Pirates meet old Sanji from a reality where Reiju didn't have emotions.

Warning: Long post ahead and some One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Young Zoro hates the fucker but those scars and piercings are doing a number to his soul.

Old Sanji's story goes like this:

He didn't experience compassion from anyone else aside from his mother, who--you know what happened.

Judge kept him locked away until he was 13. He had him released when he was deemed too broken to do anything, and he was apparently a waste of space. As far as the world was concerned, he was already dead. He gets left behind at some random pirate town in the North.

His swirly brows were recognized by the pirates who took him in--only for him to be enslaved because people would pay a lot to have their way with royalty.

He picked up some skills from the other slaves and became cunning af--because he had to be.

At 17 he started a revolt against the slaver pirates, effectively taking over as their new pirate captain.

He became the feared "Mr. Prince" and his words are as sharp as his bite.

He's underweight because he doesn't give two shits about good food.

"The All Blue? It's nothing but an old fishwive's tale," he says.

He used his cunning mind and new pirate crew to hunt down and kill his own father from the shadows.

He enslaved his own siblings and becomes the new ruler of Germa Kingdom. Over the years, he used them for warfare and expanded the territory of the North.

His heart is a bottomless pit for power and control.

He had a fling or two or several with is closely allied with Doflamingo because god damn they're both mad like that. The alliance eventually lead to direct connections with Celestial Dragons.

Sanji gains more power and becomes the notorious "Pirate King of the North"

Meanwhile at the other side of the world, Luffy didn't make it as far as he could have without a good cook.

Luffy would have recruited one from Baratie but the restaurant was absolutely destroyed before the smaller Straw Hat crew could make a difference. Some of the staff didn't make it.

Zoro left the crew when it fell apart at some point.

Due to Zoro's reputation and bounty that he had occurred during his limited time with Luffy, he was offered a position as a Warlord, ultimately taking over the late Jinbe's old role. He accepted and served for several years before he was assigned a job that he didn't know would be the most challenging one yet.

The Celestial Dragons didn't like the fact that Sanji had started to have more worldly control over their own, so Zoro was quietly assigned to hunt down the great Pirate King of the North. Zoro accepted because he felt that he needed more experience before he could take on Mihawk again.

Zoro quickly realised that this mission is not a walk in the park.

Sanji loves toying with the Demon Warlord so he insists on taking him on by himself.

It becomes an endless game of cat and mouse. Sometimes Sanji chases and sometimes he runs, sometimes he wins and sometimes he loses.

They're at each others' throats everywhere in the world. Any person, city or being of any kind that gets in the way usually gets torn apart in the chaos. The hunt goes on for a lifetime. They're currently in their 40's.

Zoro severs Sanji's left arm during one huge fight.

Because of this, Sanji relentlessly tries to get Zoro to marry him to use him in so many ways he can think of--both as an asset and under the sheets--oh the things that he wants the swordsman to do and beg for.

Sanji likes to refer to the tiniest scar on his lip as "Zoro's love bite"

He was about to get a nice fresh one on his chest when some fuckers teleported him away.

Hearing old Sanji's backstory was a bit much. It was young Zoro's turn to have a nosebleed that day.

----------

Oh yes I had fun drawing old silver fox, damaged Sanji. I wish I have the time to colour it up. I've also been very much into reading AU stories, especially soul brand ones. Keep them coming, you beautiful people.

Edit: Woo! I finally decided to make my own AO3 account. It's about time. Link here for the story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60686077

[aaa-week]

WELCOME TO AGATHA ALL ALONG WEEK!

All fanart makers & fanfic writers and edits are welcome.

1. What is agatha all along week?

Agatha all along week is being organised by us over at the discord server Evil Hags. People will be provided with a set of prompts for 7 days where they can either make fanart or fanfics (or anything else as long as it follows the prompt for the day.)

2. When is agatha all along week?

December 11th to December 18th

3. Who can you write about?

Anyone! Any of the agatha all along characters. Any ships you prefer, you can make them character/reader or character/character too.

4. Why are we doing this?

So, I was brainstorming over how to get over the depression season finale put us in & realised what better way to do it than gather the community. All of us on discord brainstormed and came up with AUs that we would all want to see.

PROMPT LIST

DAY 1

High School Au OR Single Mom/Teacher Au

DAY 2

non-magic OR band au

DAY 3

unrequited OR politics au

DAY 4

hurt/comfort OR pirates au

DAY 5

FREE DAY (you can post any fic you like on this day, nothing specific required)

DAY 6

arranged marriage OR soulmates au

DAY 7

forbidden OR royalty au

EXTRA INFO

• It's not compulsory to do both prompts for the day, you can choose between one or make a mix of both.

• It's not necessary that you post things for all days however it would be fun if you did.

• You can start preparing fanfics & fanart now onwards and on those days you will be posting them accordingly.

• You can post fics on both tumblr & ao3. Please use the tag #aaa week while posting. If you are posting on ao3, make a post on tumblr giving a link to the fic so that we can reblog it.

• If you have any further queries dm @hermslore or join the evil hags discord server to join discussion.

Feel free to reblog as much as you can and spread the word to all your favourite aaa content creators. x

[kazumist]

WHY DON'T WE FALL IN LOVE TONIGHT ?

✩ — in which you found yourself executing a ruse with the known duke of meropide, wriothesley. what could possibly go wrong? (many things, apparently.)

✩ — prompt: panache — you agree to a fake courtship with another. (for @xianyoon's "a night to remember" event (event two hehehe))

✩ — includes: wriothesley x f!reader. royalty!au. fluff, angst if you squint, hurt/comfort if you also squint, comedy squeezed in just a teensy bit. cw: alcohol consumption (reader ends up taking a shot or two) one crazy scene in the garden but it's nothing too explicit i swear they just get a little carried away OOPS. wc: 8001 yes you read that fucking right (i went insane). fake dating trope went a bit overboard my bad (heavily based by bridgerton season 1 minus the explicit scenes LMAO). one pride and prejudice and meme reference line sneaked in (if u get my reference then ilysm i need to kiss u). other fontaine characters make a cameo yipee!! full fic of this silly post i made back then but i changed things up. kinda

✩ — please reblog !! it wld help me tons :,)

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley.

romance, in general, was a frivolous belief for him in the first place. as much as his father pushes him into the marriage market for all of the women in the kingdom of fontaine, he would always find his way out of it. but he does admit—the nagging could get quite... overbearing sometimes. romance almost never crosses wriothesley’s mind. he shuns every vigorous mother that presents their daughter towards him in hopes that he’ll take an interest in them (which he never does; wriothesley believes that marriage is too big of a responsibility for him).

a ball is never uncommon in society at this age. and certainly it isn’t uncommon for his father to urge him to grace these balls with his presence on behalf of his former duke of a father. and tonight wasn’t so different from the other balls he previously attended. wriothesley holds back the urge to roll his eyes after he excuses himself (for the nth time, he thinks) from another mother who tried to offer her daughter up for his hand in marriage. it was exhausting, to say the least. wriothesley wants nothing more than to leave at the moment. however, to his dismay, the ball had just begun not too long ago.

it’s another long night for him.

sharing some conversations with queen furina’s royal advisor, neuvillette, wasn’t a bad way to pass the time. and it certainly was effective because people were far too nervous to approach him with the queen nearby. the friendship he shared with the royal advisor wasn’t new knowledge to society. almost everyone and their mothers had heard about the tale of the current duke meropide and the queen’s royal advisor being close friends during their early days of childhood and onwards. though wriothesley sometimes admits—he surely misses his youthful days.

it’s not like he's that old now. he’s currently thriving at the young age of twenty-five! not too young, not too old either. “and just how long are you going to stand by my side tonight, wriothesley?” neuvillette asks, his eyes focused on the crowd below him. there were pairs dancing gracefully in the middle of the venue as the quintet orchestra played by the side. wriothesley doesn’t glance at him as he answers. “just a bit longer, i suppose. i could still feel their eyes boring holes into me.” he mumbles the last part, leaning closer only for neuvillette to hear, as he refers to the mothers that attempted to make their advances on him earlier. neuvillette simply chuckles at his remark.

“still refusing marriage, i see?” he replies. 

“i’m confident that you’re well aware of what my answer to that is going to be, neuvillette.”

wriothesley feels comfortable like this. but he’s aware that he couldn’t spend all of his time by his friend’s side. soon after, wriothesley decides to take his leave after making sure his coast is clear. he then exited nearby and found himself wandering into the garden. surely, the workers at the house of hearth had done a splendid job maintaining this garden. he reminds himself to commend duke arlecchino for this if he ever gets the chance.

the wind tonight was quite cold, yet it’s nothing wriothesley couldn’t handle. he stumbles upon what seemed to be the center of the garden, surprised to see a fountain there. the moonlight shines brightly in this area—but what actually made wriothesley curious was who was sitting by the fountain? he steadily approaches, careful not to make the wrong move and sits by the fountain as well. there was still some distance between the two of you—a lot of it. it would be indecent of him to burst into a woman’s personal space. his father did not raise him to be that sort of man.

“what brings you here tonight?” he suddenly finds himself asking. it was a poor attempt at small talk, he thinks (he could do much better than that, he swears). wriothesley doesn’t even dare steal a glance at you, as much as he wanted to. you hesitated before answering him, still sinking in the fact that you suddenly have company in this garden now. “avoiding society as usual, especially the members of society who cannot give up offering their hand of marriage towards me, i suppose,” he hears you sigh. huh, how ironic. did wriothesley just bump into someone who suffers from the same problem as him? 

the answer was most definitely yes.

“oh, what a coincidence—i suffer from such a predicament as well.” he chuckles bitterly in reply—too bitter for his liking. he didn’t want to suddenly ruin the mood now; the conversation had barely even started. “is that so? i’m delighted to know that i’m not alone in this boat then.” the tone of your chuckle was different from the chuckle you got from wriothesley. a comfortable silence was then enveloped over the both of you, enjoying the scenery around. he takes this as his chance to steal a glance, and he quickly takes it back. yet he finds himself glancing again.

and again

and again. 

he doesn’t quite understand it himself. however, there was something about you that had this alluring effect on him of some sort. he just couldn’t tear his eyes off of you for some reason. “enjoying the view much, duke?” you asked, meeting his gaze. wriothesley then turns away suddenly, embarrassed that he was caught red handed in the act of practically ogling at you. his father did not raise him to be like this at all. he did not spend his childhood and teenage years training how to be a proper gentleman for his debut in society just to be ogling at a lady he just met at a ball. he needs to snap out of it.

“my apologies, but how could i resist putting my attention on a stunning lady like you?” he tries to play it cool. (keyword: tries.) it was a strategy that he learned to adapt every since he made his debut into society. playing it cool always works for him—surely his old trick wouldn’t fail at him now of all times, right? but wriothesley soon snapped out of his thoughts, and he then asked another question. “wait, you know who i am?” 

you were taken aback by his words. is he seriously asking you that? “who wouldn’t know you? you’re quite famous with the other ladies.” you asked him back. he simply replies with a short “fair point.” and silence takes over once again. but this time, it was a bit awkward. you decided to introduce yourself to him, stating your name and title. he nods in acknowledgement of your introduction. he has heard of you before, of course. your family has quite a reputation in society, making you get quite a bit of attention at formal parties as well. 

wriothesley doesn’t dare steal a glance at you again, as he has seemed to learn his lesson from what happened earlier. you, on the other hand, took this as your chance to take your leave. “although your company has been quite interesting, duke meropide, i’m afraid that i must take my leave first. i seem to have forgotten that i excused myself from lord jackson earlier.” you got up from your seat, already walking away from the fountain—that is, until wriothesley speaks.

“lord jackson? you mean the lord jackson who’s known for his… awful history in relationships?”

“i don’t believe there’s any other lord jackson in this society, duke meropide.” you turn around to face him.

“what business do you have with him?” why am i even asking? he thinks.

“he’s simply another one of the men who my mother had decided to set me up with for marriage. i was told to accompany him for tonight but you see, his company isn’t really... the best.” you replied, choosing your word carefully. despite you not liking lord jackson at all, it would be informal for you to speak ill of him when he could be the man you’ll actually marry.

actually, scratch that. as if you’ll ever allow yourself to marry a man like him. lord jackson was a creep, to say the least. you were aware of the talk that goes around him. but your dear mother is still kept in the dark about these stories, and she decided to set you up with him without your prior knowledge. so by technicality, you really had no choice. “you can’t marry him.” the man in front of you suddenly says.

“i beg your pardon?” you asked, afraid that you misheard him the first time. “you... you can’t marry him.” he repeats and then he continues. “i mean, surely you have heard the news about him—his temper makes him vicious. your marriage with him wouldn’t prosper at all.” you held back the urge to scoff at him. “i appreciate your concern, my duke, but our society works in an unfair way at this age. i cannot just declare that i do not wish to marry, unlike you. that is a privilege that i cannot simply afford.” you shot back at him.

wriothesley suddenly feels like a light bulb in his head has switched on.

“we could pretend to form an attachment.” he then says. you were getting more baffled by the second this conversation held on longer. “whatever do you mean?” you weren’t stupid. but you refused to believe that what he’s hinting at is also the one you foolishly thought. “with you in my arm, people would think that i have finally found my duchess. as for you, your mother would raise her standards and find more suitable candidates for your hand in marriage. because although i could be wrong, but have you ever told your mother what traits you find in a man?” he replies, a small smile slowly tugging on his lips. he clearly enjoys this idea.

“i… i suppose not.” he got you there. “but this is an absurd idea.” you protested.

“i find it quite brilliant, if i do say so myself.”

“you do know the risks of what you’re proposing right now, am i correct?”

“i do. but you do not wish to marry me, and i do not wish to marry you, so whatever should you have to lose?” he’s insisting. he’s insisting like this plan would work perfectly fine for the both of your benefits (well, if you were to be completely honest, there is a chance for it to be successful. but you grew up to believe that you shouldn’t expect for things to go so smoothly in your life). “i…” a lost of words. that’s what you are. too many possibilities are running through your head at the moment.

however, the duke did have one hell of a good point.

“fine. you got yourself a deal.”

and that’s how you got roped into the situation you have now. with an arm interlocked with the duke meropide’s, all eyes were bound to set upon you both. wriothesley could see the amusement in neuvillette’s expression; the same goes for the hint of amusement in queen furina’s eyes as she spots them in the crowd. wriothesley slowly guides you towards the dance floor, just in time for another dance to begin. gracefully, you took his hand as you step onto the dance floor with him. a familiar song started to play, one that you remember memorizing as dance class was mandatory for being a debutante in society.

“are you bothered?” he then asks in a whisper as he twirls you around. “whatever for?” you ask him back. “the staring. i could feel all of them looking at us right now, honestly,” he chuckles lowly. “hm, i’m trying not to mind it that much. but i suppose you’re probably enjoying all of this attention now, aren’t you?” a simple tease on your part, and wriothesley smiled at that. “my, are we on casual terms now?” 

“chemistry should be a major factor that we should have in this plan, yes? so we might as well start by being more casual with one another.”

“indeed. glad to know that you’re quick to pick up on things.” he says. “of course i am. what do you take me for, duke meropide?” you asked him, a slight pout forming on your lips. and wriothesley smiled at that again before replying. “nothing offensive, that i can assure you.”

“i’m delighted to know that the ever-so-famous duke of meropide doesn’t harbor any sour feelings towards me then.” 

it was a bit suffocating, all of the staring. yet at the same time, you understood why they’re staring in the first place. wriothesley, the current duke of meropide, is suddenly on the dance floor with a young woman. and he seems to be quite interested in her as well. people would assume you’re the reason why the duke has rejected so many marriage offers up until now—because he already had you in the first place.

the other unwanted attention you’d get from that assumption alone was enough to make you distracted to the point where you almost stepped on wriothesley’s foot. “i—my apologies, duke.” you stammered. “it’s alright. just look at me,” he says. you scrunched your eyebrows at him in confusion. “pardon?”

“just look at me; don’t focus on anyone else. it will help ease your mind.”

with hesitance, you followed what he said and locked your eyes with his. the duke’s eyes were a fine shade of grey. a unique color, if you do say so yourself. and surely he was correct. shifting your focus and thoughts to him did ease you from all of the other eyes that are locked onto both of your figures that’s moving along with the music.

time felt like it had stopped, as it also felt like you were the only ones present in the room.

to wriothesley’s surprise, the night passed by faster when he was with you. because before he knew it, he was already accompanying you back to your carriage. a lot of things had happened in the span of just a few hours. but wriothesley does not regret a single second of it, now that he recalls everything again. he wonders why—was it because he encountered you in the garden tonight?

maybe. that’s where it all started anyway.

he quickly snapped out of his trail of thoughts as he heard you speak. “i suppose i’ll see you soon then?” you asked him. “mhm, i suppose so. safe travels, m’lady.” he bids you his farewell by gently grabbing ahold of your hand and pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckle, refusing to break his eye contact with you as the footman closed your carriage’s door.

“safe travels as well, my duke.”

— — — — — — — — 

word spread fast about you and the duke of meropide. your mother was shocked at the news—yet happy that you finally became “independent on finding your match” as per her words. you had no specific agenda for the day, so, as you usually do whenever you are free, you decided to visit the modiste—where your good friend chiori resides. 

the sound of the bell chiming as the door opened made chiori perk up to see who would possibly need help making a new dress. but when her eyes met yours, she just knew you weren’t here to ask for a new dress. “i heard about the commotion last night.” she says, setting down a cup of tea for you as she takes a sip from her own cup, waiting for your response. “commotion is a vulgar term for it, chiori. i prefer to call it a memorable event.”

“i suppose it’s memorable for you to enter with your arm wrapped around the duke meropide just like that. how did it even happen? i vividly recall you telling me that you had no intention of marriage.”

“it’s… a long story,” you sighed, taking a sip from your own cup of tea. “oh? are you implying that there’s more to this than meets the eye, then?”

“i guess you could say that.”

“well, then tell me all about it.”

“i… i can't. my apologies, chiori.” it's not like you didn't trust her. in fact, there are more secrets that are held within this fine modiste’s place than one could ever imagine. but it was a silent and automatic agreement between you and the duke that no one must know of your plan. (although you already hinted to chiori that there's more to it than meets the eye.) besides, chiori is a smart woman who has known you before she could even have her place built.

she doesn't need to be a genius to find out that there's something up. she'll pick up on it sooner or later.

“it's alright. there’s no need to feel pressure to tell me now, but do promise me one thing: you're not doing anything against the law, right?”

you couldn't help but burst out in laughter at her question. “chiori! do you take me as a criminal? of course, i’m not!” you replied, laughing in a fit of giggles in between your words. “thank goodness. well, how was i supposed to know? you almost never stop by so we rarely have the chance to catch up. every bit of news i hear from you is usually from the other ladies who sometimes talk about you.”

“don’t worry, my friend. i’ll stop by more often from now on, but seriously, are you still eavesdropping on your customers? i thought we were past that.”

“it isn't my fault some of them whisper way too loudly for my liking,” chiori scoffs.

as you two have a few more conversations, it is about time for you to take your leave, as the time has reached for the hour when chiori would usually have customers. “it was truly a pleasure to catch up with you, chiori.” you said as she escorted you to the door. “a pleasure indeed. do drop by more often, alright? it can get quite lonely here, you know.” a giggle leaves your lips at her response. “will do. i believe i might need a new dress soon for the upcoming firestone ball?” you say and you notice how chiori’s had some sort of sparkle at your mention of needing a new dress. she had always loved making dresses for you.

“is that so? i promise to suggest some designs that you might like once you return.”

— — — — — — — — 

the fountain of lucine was a famous spot for a walk in the park type of day. every day, you’d see different individuals make their wish upon the fountain. whether that is a prosperous marriage, being blessed with a beloved child, or even gaining wealth, everyone wishes for all sorts of desires towards the fountain. but you never found yourself doing the same. it’s most probably because you've already been content with your life up until now. you never had any struggles when it came to growing up.

but again, that is up until now. 

you took a step further towards the fountain, silently stating your wish and threw the coin into the fountain’s small pool of water. “penny for your wish?” you heard someone say beside you. quickly turning your head to the direction of the voice, you were surprised to see the duke there. “duke meropide! i—i didn’t expect that you were going to be here today.”

“i decided to go out for a stroll; the weather is quite nice today, is it not?” 

“ah, yes, i suppose it is,” you replied, looking around. the weather was indeed nice today. perfect for a quick stroll around the area. “would you mind taking a stroll with me today? it would be a shame to waste this fine weather talking in the same spot.” he says, offering his arm for you to take. “i’d be delighted to.” your arm gets hooked on his.

“how are you faring lately? it has been quite a while since our last meeting,” wriothesley starts. he personally prefers his attempt at small talk today to his attempt at small talk the night he met you. it has been a few days since the ball held by the house of hearth. and within those few days, you haven’t spoken to the duke since. though, your house suddenly has suitors calling for you during your calling hour. all hopeful to gain your interest in them instead of the duke.

(however, you all shut them down politely. you found yourself repeating your apologies to the lords that have called upon you during those times.)

“i’ve been well. certainly, the stunt that we pulled during the ball held in the house of hearth did not go unnoticed. my social energy has been drained because of the suitors who called me.” a sigh leaves your lips. “oh? i apologize for that then. i hope that your social energy isn't at it’s lowest right now,” he chuckles. you gave him a playful glare at his remark. “are you making fun of my previous predicament, duke?” 

“oh, heavens no. my apologies, did that offend you?” he says, holding back a smile at his words. he was definitely not apologetic. “you’re not that sorry for it, aren’t you?”

“perchance.”

“you cannot just say perchance!”

a laugh erupts from wriothesley at your response. it was the first time you heard him laugh like that. and in the public eye, you two would seem like a joyful couple spending some quality time walking around the fountain of lucine as a pastime. well, that was technically the goal. to show the public that you and the duke of meropide are madly in love with one another. what could possibly go wrong?

— — — — — — — — 

by the time the firestone ball had taken place (which is nearly just a week after the ball from the house of hearth), you and the duke were on the dance floor once again.

“i believe we have yet to discuss our other terms and agreement for our plan, your grace.” you said, following his lead in the waltz. “ah, you’re right. well then, why don’t you start? ladies first.” he says. “i was hoping that you’d have some ideas on what terms we should have; after all, this was your idea, if i may remind you.”

you continue speaking as wriothesley continues to lead you through the dance. “i am starting to be convinced that this will be more than just a simple game of pretend just so we could fool the members of society, or my mother, or the women you have wanted to get away from every time you step foot in public. a life is at stake here, your grace, my life, and i just simply cannot have this go wrong. so if you are not in agreement with that, then you should tell me now.” the duke never broke his eye contact with you as you spoke.

“i shall agree… on one condition.”

“your grace, i believe that you do not understa—”

“you must call me wriothesley.” 

there’s only one word to describe you at the moment: speechless. and wriothesley takes your silence as a chance to continue his words. “if we are truly to be courting, and if we are truly to prove that this is a match like no other, then you should call me by my name. after all, weren’t you the one who suggested that we should be more... casual with one another?”

he was right, and he had yet again another one hell of a good point. you mentally sighed, “very well then… wriothesley.” a laugh dares to escape your throat but this does not go unnoticed by the man who has his hand held in his at the moment. “is there something funny about my name?” he asks you, raising an eyebrow at your reaction. “no, no. it is a perfectly fine name. it is also quite unique, if i may add.” you replied, calming yourself down. laughing loudly while you’re in the middle of the dance floor would raise questions, after all.

“oh, perfectly fine? very well then… (name).” wriothesley’s voice seemed to have lowered itself an octave lower as he said your name with a slight rasp. your eyes looked away from his as you shifted your gaze to his collar instead. both of you went silent, yet you were still moving to the rhythm of the music.

wriothesley’s hand, that was supposedly at your waist, trailed upwards. just below the nape of your neck and also before your spine starts. your breath hitched at the contact of his cold finger tips there.

“i do hope that this plan will be successful.” you said, gaining your composure.

“have faith in us.”

— — — — — — — — 

meetings with the duke of meropide became more frequent than you expected. whether that may be a coincidental meeting or a planned one—no one could really pinpoint it, much to their dismay. 

it started off with a simple meal. then another walk. then an official invitation to accompany him to a ball or two. or three; in fact, he has invited you for a lot of them now. you haven’t thought much about the future as of late, always focusing on the present, where you’re definitely by wriothesley’s side. there was never a dull moment with the man. it was always entertaining to be with him. whenever another man (a man whose appeal is not to take interest in a sense) would approach you, wriothesley would pull some sort of stunt that’s connected to his “wild jealousy” of some sort. it’s a bit hard to hold back a laugh whenever this happens. there are times when he would talk to you about the other nobles present in the party and how he’s acquainted with them, and you’d admire the fact that he has many connections (something that a duke like him should have; he’s doing well in his duties, you’d note).

there are also times when you two will find yourselves alone, secluding yourselves from the crowd. these were, personally, your favorites. with the moonlight shining brightly upon you both once again, you’d always be reminded of the night you met. at these moments, this is when you and the duke would share… more personal things with one another. things that neither of you had expected to share with anyone else. like how he avoids marriage because of the huge responsibility that comes with it. or like how you doubt that others, especially men (minus the duke), would understand your struggles as a woman in this society.

wriothesley might have a lot of connections, but he was just the same as you. both of you kept your circle quite small (and by small, you both have only one person you truly trust to confide in). but even if you both wouldn’t admit it out loud, trust had also bloomed between the two of you.

(yet is trust the only thing that has actually bloomed?)

tonight, you found yourselves in yet another garden. “have you ever heard of why a flower wilts, wriothesley?” you decided to start this time. “hm? i suppose it’s because nothing good actually lasts long in life.” 

“how… pessimistic of you to say.” you sweatdropped at his response. he chuckles yet again, you noticed that he always chuckles apologetically while looking away before he actually says his apologies. a habit of his, perhaps. “my apologies; i must repeat myself. the less a person sees of me, the happier their life is.”

“why so? i enjoy your company quite well.”

“oh? and are you sure those words aren’t forced because you’re stuck with me with this little ruse we have ongoing?” he asks back. these exchanges became frequent. one would ask a question, and the other would ask another in return. “i’m being quite honest, wriothesley. i really do enjoy your company quite well.”

“the feeling is likewise, (name).” there’s something satisfying about how your name rolls off of his tongue. he pronounces it the same as everyone else does yet how does it feel different when he says it? it’s baffling, that’s one thing for sure. “is it awful that i’m actually quite enjoying this?”

“you mean my wild jealousy?” he asks, playfully offended.

“fooling society.” you corrected. “there are some in the crowd who secretly know everything about everyone. yet we have them utterly convinced that we are mad for one another.”

“we are awfully clever then.” he says in amusement. “indeed we are.” you chuckled at his reply.

if there’s one thing you would always notice between the two of you, it would always be how you were glued to one another. like there’s some magnetic pull that automatically drags the other to their side. 

this moment is no different because you could feel his knuckles grazing against yours ever so lightly. it starts with the hook of your pinkies, then slowly turns into you grabbing a hold of his other fingers. wriothesley could feel his heart beating fast at the contact. he glances at you, admiring your features underneath the moonlight once again. you glance at him as well. was he already this close to you when you started walking in this garden? because you swear your faces are inching even closer to each other. wriothesley’s other hand gently grabs your nape, guiding you as he gently pulls you in for a kiss. 

his lips were soft against yours, something you didn’t expect from him. he kisses you like you were delicate (to which you were, delicate to him, at least), eyes closing themselves as he enjoys the sensation of your lips against his. you kiss him back in the same way, not really knowing what to do next—but you kiss him back. that’s all that matters. his lips leave yours as wriothesley latches his lips onto your neck, continuing the light kisses against it.

you let out a gasp at the contact as you lean your head back so you can give him more access. he intertwined his other hand with yours; it was quite scandalous. having a moment like this on someone else’s property. you extracted him from your neck, pulling him in for another kiss. this time it was a bit more rough—desperate, even.

well, that was until he pulled away from you abruptly. you looked at him in a daze yet you were confused. “we must return; we’ve been out long enough,” he says, letting go of your hand in the process as he fixes himself. he tries to catch his breath, processing what has just happened. did he really just kiss you? he supposes (or, in other terms, hopes) that it’s normal. ultimately, this should’ve been part of your agreement in the first place, right?

“i… you’re right. my mother could be looking for me any moment now.” what could possibly go wrong, you ask? well, apparently, many things could go wrong.

but if there’s one thing that got stitched into your mind tonight, it’s only one thing:

the duke of meropide is one good kisser.

however, what will become of your relationship now?

— — — — — — — — 

you found yourself going to chiori again. the familiar sound of the bell chiming against the door notified chiori of someone entering her place. and once she saw you, she could just feel the distress radiating off of your body.

“what happened this time? i haven’t heard any good news about you two from last night’s party.” she says, pouring you a cup of tea. “good news? more like insane occurrences,” you sighed, watching the tea leave the teapot as it transfers onto your teacup. “ insane occurrences? what happened to ‘memorable event’?” she asked, confused with your choice of words.

you let out another sigh, finally revealing everything to chiori. luckily, today was her day off. with another ball just held last night, she would get at least a day or two of good rest before she opens up again. chiori takes in every detail of your story well, surprised that this is what you’ve been up to.

as soon as you were done talking, you decided to take a sip of your tea. “so you’re worried that you almost slept with the duke of meropide?” chiori states. and you choked on your drink once you heard her. “you didn’t have to word it like that! have some decency!” you exclaimed, embarrassment surging through you. 

“i don’t get it, though. what are you so worried about? it’s almost as if… wait.” she pauses.

“it’s almost as if what, chiori?”

“do you love him?”

“huh? love who?”

“don’t play dumb with me, (name). do you or do you not love the duke of meropide?”

this time, it was your turn to pause. do you? well, certainly, he is nice company. and he treats you well despite neither of you having the wish to marry each other. he is also a good kisser (something that you don’t really feel like counting but it’s still a fact). recalling everything that has happened now, the only things that come into mind are the things you’ve noticed about wriothesley. how his eyes are the most remarkable shade of grey, his scar below his right eye. the feeling of the callouses on his hands as you held them on the dance floor.

it can’t be. there’s just no way. he’s a duke of all people—he’s out of your league in so many ways. he’s too far for you to reach. and besides, this is all just a game of pretend, is it not? surely that kiss would’ve meant nothing to him. 

fuck.

“i do.” you replied to her in a whisper

“i’m glad that you’re not dense.” chiori says, flicking your forehead. you yelped in pain at the contact. 

yes, you do love the duke of meropide.

and you stand by that.

meanwhile, on the other side of the coin, wriothesley had a crisis himself. “you’re quite lucky today, to ask for my presence while queen furina is occupied with duke arlecchino with her. so what assistance can i offer for you today, wriothesley?” neuvillette states, pulling his chair so he could take a seat before the man in front of him. wriothesley leans back on his seat, an elbow propped on top of the chair’s arm rest as his index finger is rested upon his lips. 

wriothesley sighs. before spilling everything to neuvillette. his friend’s expression grew more amused as he continued on with the story, finding every detail unexpected for a man like his friend. “i see. so that’s how it is. well, let me ask you a simple question then, my friend.” 

“shoot.”

“do you love her?”

wriothesley pauses. neuvillette’s questions echo repeatedly in his mind. do i love her? he then asks himself. he was not stupid. wriothesley did not need to become some sort of genius to find the answer to that question—because the answer is no. he doesn’t love you. yes, he has grown to trust you with things he would never even dare tell anyone else. but he’s scared. wriothesley is scared because he has never thought of commitment in this way before. romance was just a frivolous belief to him, after all. so surely, this would all just mean nothing.

he ponders about it for a few more moments. he’s too scarred—too damaged—to be loved by someone like you. he feels undeserving of it. he knows there’s another man out there who could be the man you want to be. someone who will make you happier than he does. someone who is willing to commit himself to you. someone who could love you with nothing holding him back. 

“i don’t.” wriothesley firmly says.

no, wriothesley cannot be in love with you.

(neuvillette gives his friend a sigh as his friend takes his leave. he returns back to the room where queen furina is currently spending time with duke arlecchino. the duke had a habit of bringing the queen sweets from their travels abroad. the queen has excitement written all over her eyes as she makes eye contact with the pastries set in front of her.)

— — — — — — — — 

it wasn’t hard to put two and two together to realize that wriothesley has been avoiding you.

it has been a few months since you decided to start your ruse. although he still accompanies you, once it’s quite crowded, he will deliberately avoid your presence like a plague, and you have no idea why. you first thought that may be he was just feeling unwell but it has occurred more frequent now and it just stings, really. it stings because you thought that you two had formed quite the bond over the past few months.

“wriothesley, is something wrong? you know you could always talk to me, right?” you asked him, finally cornering him as he had successfully avoided you for the past two hours ever since the party started. “it’s nothing of your concern,” was all he said before leaving you again. but that answer wasn’t enough—hell, it wasn’t even a proper answer for you. so you decided to follow him.

“where are you going?” you asked him. speeding your pace up to catch up to him. wriothesley doesn’t answer and just continues on walking. he ends up going into a secluded room, not even bothering to close the door. you followed him in and shut the door behind you as you faced him. he had his back facing you as you heard him take a deep breath. “wriothesley, what’s wrong? and don’t even dare say that it’s none of my concern because it is.”

wriothesley could feel himself going mad. he can’t do this tonight. what even caused him to behave this way?

ah, he remembers. it was that unbearable sight of you interacting with marquess lyney. he should’ve been happy that you finally seem interested in someone else because all you two have to do now is plan how you should end things. but that thought made wriothesley realize two things. one, he cannot bear the sight of you with another man (but why? it’s not like you’re actually his in the first place). and two, he doesn’t want things to end between the both of you. whether it's a ruse that feels too real for his own liking or whatnot, he doesn’t want to lose you in his life.

he loosens the buttons on his top so that he can breathe more properly. you got closer to him, but only if you knew that was a dangerous move on your part. you grabbed his arm in hopes of getting a view of wriothesley’s expression at the moment.

he then faces you, his eyes searching for something in yours but you just can’t find out what. it was silent; neither of you dared to speak a word. and wriothesley finds himself pulling you for a kiss. it was a bit rough how his lips crashed against yours. he then pulls away, his eyes widening at what he just did. “i… my most sincere apologies.”

and he leaves. just like that.

the familiar door to the modiste is presented at you as you knocked. it was late at night. the party you attended earlier with wriothesley was long over. but you knew your dear friend would still be up even at this late hour. 

“(name)? what brings you here at this hour?” chiori asks, opening the door wider so you could enter.

“i need a goddamn drink.” you said.

— — — — — — — — 

“so you’re telling me that he just… kissed you again, and then he left the party? just like that?” chiori repeats. you take another shot of the alcohol chiori provided for the both of you. “hey, calm down. this one is actually pretty strong, you idiot.” chiori warns you.

you lean back, slamming the shot glass against the table. “just like that, chiori. like what is wrong with him? is he perhaps sick in the head?”

“i honestly don’t know if i should be at least grateful that he apologized.” she says, taking a shot as well. you glare at her remark and she raises her hands in return. you sighed this time, “are men always this… complicated?”

“hm, i don’t think so. maybe it’s just the duke.”

“you’re not helping!”

“you never said you wanted help in the first place.”

— — — — — — — — 

seven days.

seven days since you last spoke to wriothesley. seven days since you last heard of him. it has been seven days yet he hasn’t made any attempts to contact you since. 

just what was up with him? he was fine before. did you do something wrong? did you accidentally say something that was offensive to him? everything has changed now. wriothesley is treating you like he treated you before he actually met you—cold. 

your mother has decided to throw a ball this time—something about her not wanting to fall behind the other mothers. you complied, having to accept that society is nothing but competition against one another. and on the day of the ball, you found yourself lonely. if only chiori wasn’t busy with her other orders, then maybe this night would’ve been more entertaining.

wriothesley has yet to make his appearance (or perhaps he is already here yet he has decided to avoid you again). but you have decided on one thing tonight: you will talk things out with that stubborn man no matter what it takes. because you cannot just bear to stand idly by when wriothesley could be struggling alone. you once heard from your mother that love makes you do the craziest things and tonight was the night you realized that she was right. but isn’t it worth it if it’s all in the name of love?

the outdoor area of your home was also used for the ball, and decorations are displayed here and there to make the area look more eyecatching. to your family’s dismay, it has begun to rain. making all of the guests head inside to continue the festivities. but as you made your way to follow the crowd, you spotted someone too familiar—it was the man you’ve been looking for all evening, wriothesley.

looking around his surroundings, wriothesley spots you getting drenched in the rain. his eyes widen as he quickly makes his way towards you, removing his coat to drape it over you instead. “are you insane? you’re getting drenched!” he exclaims in worry. you scoff in return, pushing yourself away from his coat and allowing yourself to get wet by the rain.

“am i insane? i should be the one asking you that!” you said, glaring at him. “how… how could you? do you know how worried i have been because of you? you avoided me, then kissed me, then avoided me even more! i had no idea if you were okay because you didn’t even dare speak with me while i was here stuck waiting for you. why? because i didn’t want to pressure you into telling me what’s wrong!”

wriothesley is at a loss for words at your outburst. he just stares at you in return, guilt written all over him. he deserved your anger. but he didn’t mean for things to go this far, yet he also didn’t know how to handle things. you continued speaking, “wriothesley, i have no idea what’s clouding over your heart but i do know one thing: you musn’t keep it to yourself.”

“(name)...” he softly says—hesitantly, even. like he’s scared to even say your name in the first place. you take a step forward, both of your hands reaching out to hold his face. your touch was gentle on his skin, making sure you weren't making him uncomfortable. “tell me what’s wrong, wriothesley. i’ll listen.”

and tell you, he does. he voice shakes at first yet he begins to steady it as he unravels to you everything that has been bothering him up until now. his jealousy, his inner turmoil, and his insecurities. and you listen to him, understanding every word that escapes his lips as your hand never leaves his face, your fingers gently brushing over his scar below his right eye. and once he’s finished, you choose your next words carefully.

“there’s something that i realized in life that i believe you should know. just because something is not perfect does not make it any less worthy of love. you made yourself believe otherwise. you made yourself believe that you had to be without fault just so you could be loved but you’re wrong, wriothesley. should you need any proof of the matter, then look just here.” you weakly laugh at the last sentence, and wriothesley just stares at you. you couldn’t find out what’s going on in his head but you know that he’s listening.

your voice shakes as you continue. “i am tired of this sick game of pretending. i am tired of pretending—of acting as if i do not love you, because i do. i love you more than you could ever imagine. every scar, every flaw, every imperfection—i love all of you. you may think you’re too damaged or too scarred to allow yourself of happiness but you can choose differently, wriothesley. you can choose to love me as much as i love you. that should not be up to anyone else—that cannot be up to anyone else.”

“it can only be up to you.”

he was still silent as you slowly let go of his face but wriothesley was quick to catch them. he grabs ahold of your hands, and with his slight shaking, he takes a deep breath. he realizes something when you profess your love for him. he puts two things together: commitment and you. and the conclusion he draws from that is that he doesn’t mind commitment, as long as he’s committing himself to you. that’s how much of an impact you have on him. yes, he’s scared. and yes, this might not go like he hopes it will. but that doesn’t matter to him because he knows it will all be worth it for you. wriothesley is a coward when it comes to love and the like—that, he admits. but he isn’t allowing himself to be a coward for the rest of his life. why deprive himself of the serene type of happiness that he could only achieve when he has you by his side?

he kept his eyes on the hands he’s holding now as he began to speak. “i.. i do not wish to be alone. i know that now. but what i do not know is how to be the man you wish for me to be—the man you truly deserve. i do not know how to do any of this, but i do know another thing: i love you too. i love you. most ardently.” he then meets your eyes as he notices one thing in them. love.

“you stay. you stay and we’ll get through this. together. that’s where we’ll start. we have all the time in the world.”

“may i… kiss you?” he hesitates to ask. but you give him a nod of approval before you’re met with the familiar pleasure of his lips on yours. he relishes every second of the kiss, taking this as a chance to ground himself into reality—refusing to believe that this is some sick dream that his mind decided to play in his head. a hand slithers its way to the nape of his neck and wriothesley groans at the feeling as his hand grabs your waist tighter. wriothesley thanked his lucky stars for the night he met you because this wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for them.

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley. 

but he knew otherwise the moment he laid his eyes upon you that night in the garden.

[jasontoddweek2025]

Jason Todd Week 2025 - January

Rules | Playlist | Playlist Guide | AO3 Collection | Discord

Jason Todd Week 2025 will run January 6th - 12th this January!

There will be two aspects to this event:

The main part is the prompt challenges. There are three prompts per day. The first is a word prompt, the second is a general trope, and the last is a fandom-specific prompt. You can use one, two, or three of them—it's up to you! Each prompt also has a song corresponding to it in the playlist. A playlist guide will be out shortly so that you can know what songs there are if you don't use Spotify.

If you post on Tumblr, you can use the tag #jasontoddweek2025. There's also an AO3 collection (Jason_Todd_Week_2025).

The secondary aspect is another opportunity to participate if you don't feel comfortable creating art, writing, or other media. Each day of the week, there will be a be an open-ended question about your opinions/ideas related to Jason Todd that you can respond to. For example, "What is your favorite Jason Todd headcanon?"

Feel free to join the Discord!

Prompts Day 1: Drive | Time Travel | The Batmobile Tires Day 2: Joker | Chronic Pain | Fear Toxin Day 3: Monster | Supernatural AU | League of Assassins Day 4: Grave | Buried Alive | Immortal Jason Todd Day 5: Family | No Capes AU | Jason is a Literature Nerd Day 6: Scars | Enemy to Caretaker | Red Hood and the Outlaws Day 7: Return | Outsider POV | Crime Alley Substitute Prompts: Lifeline, Royalty AU, Reverse Robins

[neithoftheveil]

Neith’s TGCF Fic Recs:

I’ve never made a rec list before, but for Christmas, I wanted to share some (not all—by god, we’d be here forever) of the fics saved to my kindle, some of my bookmarks, and some of my friends’ works (with overlap between those categories).

In no particular order:

tell you every day by scrapimmortal

Adorable amnesia Wulian oneshot that makes me smile.

melt (i’d tell them; put me back in it) by scrapimmortal

If I had a dollar for every time I’ve read this, I would have many dollars; perfection.

The flap of a butterfly’s wing by Ameji

Really enjoyed the political and personal drama in this one. A fun, exciting read that got me thinking about how to approach my own fics.

Pig in the Garden by illuminatingsceadugunga

I love FengQing’s heads exploding over hualian being married pre-third ascension; it’s delightful—very fun fic!

The Supplicant by ardenrabbit

The anticipation in chapter 1 was literally killing me; so excited to see more!

Land of the Callous by starvingwritist

A very fun, well-constructed truth serum Xianle quartet fic; Hualian are perfect for each other, truly. Couldn’t wait to see what would go wrong (and right)!

Heaven is Overwhelming by crispytaco

I love selective mutism fics; this one is very sweet! Comfort read.

there’s no rush by miska_za

Very sweet marathon sex; another comfort read.

quiet like stains by haysel

This soulmate AU has permanently altered my brain. It’s my favorite modern AU.

and the rain won’t make any difference by haysel

The atmosphere and the emotion? Out of this world. Love at first sight that takes your breath away. So sweet.

Your Courage, Your Despair by boomchick

I think about this fic at least once a week. Hualian hurt/comfort is my favorite thing.

‘Til our compass stands still by edenwolfie

Cannot watch the s2 opening of the donghua without getting nostalgia for this fic. Love the OCs. Love the characterization of XL. I would live in this fic if I could.

The Road I Walked Alone by aewea

Gives me literal chills every time (love it). What would happen if the play at the Mid-Autumn Banquet was actually the 100 swords scene.

We Stan Scrap Gege! by paidsubscription

Couldn’t stop laughing and smiling. Love this author’s AUs. Always so well thought out. And the “ghost citizens” are amazingly written!

The southern guide to a happy marriage by illuminate

The way this author writes Mu Qing makes me feral. FengQing get married before Xie Lian ascends a third time. It’s horny. It’s fun.

I can feel your halo by illuminate

Probably my favorite fengqing fanfic; I’ve read it a dozen times! Mu Qing’s spiritual powers are stolen, and he takes full advantage of them being gone to fulfill some long-buried desires.

common love isn’t for us by nobirdstofly

A really fun, dynamic piece that plays with FengQing’s deputy disguises. Hot too!

I Want to Ki** You by tyelperintal

I love every interaction Xie Lian and Mu Qing have in this piece, especially when XL gives way too many details about his sex life in order to help MQ navigate his desire for FX.

Wu Ming Loving Hours by featherpoet

A cute and inventive what-if. A canon divergence from Wuming’s death.

When I Was Older by corduroyserpent

An emotional time travel fic I love. Read it twice. Plan to reread soon!

Nameless Longing by corduroyserpent

A follow-up to the above fic; the “good boy” lives rent free in my brain. A roleplay Wulian fic with a twist ending.

Against All Odds by yuushoku

A really sweet royalty AU where Hua Cheng has to pass three trials to wed Xie Lian. Comfort read.

bring a light by uraa

A cute wangxian/hualian crossover!

charcoal daydreams by beesinspades

One of the first fics I read for this fandom! The first tgcf fic I ever downloaded! Artist HC runs into his old crush when XL applies to be his model.

steady love (in a place we know) by beesinspades

Hurts my heart but in a good way; it’s like missing someone who’s right in front of you. Hualian go on a road trip.

Is he, you know, a follower of Ju Yang? by airawyn

Very cute! Love the fengqing dynamic and banter!

Your Touch Means Everything to Me by fayleen

Love the tension in this one! A canon-divergent first kiss after the Banyue arc.

The State of You by peppaspray

Hot and sweet! Hua Cheng trying to seduce his husband in different forms.

to be seen by blessinglanterns

An interesting look at Hua Cheng coming back from being dispersed on Tonglu. Very sweet.

If you love me for me by fullmetalpotterhead

A really adorable royalty AU where Hua Cheng needs to marry Xie Lian for political reasons but quickly falls in love with him after he disguises himself in order to meet XL before their wedding.

[painfulgoodbye]

dteam omegaverse week day 1:

claiming + royalty au 👑

What would happen if George, an alpha prince who is looking for a mate, fell in love with Dream, the first ever omega knight in the king’s guard ? ✨

[inkedberries]

day 1 of kudoichi week - [royalty au]

inspired by the painting 'the meeting on the turret stairs' by frederic william burton

[the-kr8tor]

Other Side of Paradise

Pairing: Robin Hood! Hobie Brown x Princess! Reader

Word count: 7.3k

Summary: Being a princess is all fine and dandy until you're about to get married off like a brood mare. Will the handsome thief that stole your heart help get you out of a loveless marriage? Or perhaps you'll be the one stealing his heart?

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), robin hood au, royalty au, part 1 of part 2, talks of marriage, reader has unnamed siblings, a bit ooc Hobie at the start but it's for the plot, fluff.

A/N: This oneshot is so long I had to cut it in half lol enjoy! (Part 2 will be up in a few days)

Navigation

Octobie 🎸

Part one >>> Part two

Being a princess in one of the largest and most powerful countries in the world, you'd think that your family, the royal family would treat you like the finest jewel in their treasury. But no, they treat you like their doormat, a pretty little thing to put atop their mantle only to be forgotten until it's time to show you off.

You are a princess, draped in the finest silks and chiffon, jewels in your hair, golden rings around each of your fingers. But the one missing, the one that your family truly only cares about is a diamond on your ring finger that has remained empty ever since your debut out into society.

You're the thirteenth child of the thirteenth king and queen, an unlucky number perhaps, but you find it lucky since you're the youngest out of the thirteen, hence your empty ring finger. But after your last elder sister got married, all the attention went to you when you didn't want them in the first place. You went from just co-existing with your family, to you being the center of attention in the span of a few hours after they sent your dear sister off to her husband. From your brothers to your sisters, they've all been wed. Even if they had no say in who they were going to marry, they went with few little tears. Some married kings, princesses, and a few were shipped off to dukes and duchesses. Your parents were determined to fill every noble and royal household with their own blood. And unfortunately, you're not an exception.

With your corset poking you at your side, dress weighing heavy, and crown falling off your head every few minutes; you look like you're about to scream and shout in the middle of the throne room. You might as well when you roam your eyes at the marriage candidates staring at you like you're the last slice of pie at the tavern. Every eligible noble man around the world has come vying for your hand, or more like your dowry for that matter.

For once in your life, they didn't make you sit at the far back where you're free to whip out a book and read without interruption. But now, you sit front and center next to your royal parents, their heads held high, jewels shining in the sunlight that bathes the whole throne room in its kaleidoscope light coming from the colourful stained glass window that depicts your age-old family history. Some of its bits were conveniently taken out by your ancestors when they ‘took over’ the throne from their rightful heir and uncle. Maybe that's why they had to send off most of your siblings to faraway countries to prevent infighting amongst your family when the throne inevitably goes empty. You won't fight for it though, who would want to rule a country standing on the precipice of war and famine every year?

You claw at your wrist, the itchy lace turning your skin bumpy and agitated. Your mother clears her throat, head standing still while her eyes throw daggers at you.

“I think I'm allergic to this fabric, mother.” You whisper, but the vast throne room practically announces your uncomfortable self with an echo of your voice.

Swallowing thickly, you see the crowd of nobles standing to the sides turn their heads at you. Their golden suits and gowns just screams ‘I’m important!’ to everyone in the room. But when everyone thinks they're important, does that mean that everyone outside the room is insignificant? You don't think so, but everyone and their blue blooded self thinks the world revolves around them.

“Hush,” your mother speaks plainly, showing the nobles that you are obedient and raised well. Well, you were technically not raised by her or your father, they barely know you except for the one fact that you're their child. They practically tossed you to your wet nurse and governess the second you were launched out of the queen. “Sit still, we may find you a husband today.”

You inhale, fixing your posture. You miss your library. “But they look…” your eyes glance at the men waiting at the far end of the hall. Finding that none of them would suit you at all. Maybe your governess was right, reading romance novels would give you high and impossible expectations for a romantic partner. Some were too blond, wore too many ruby rings on their fingers, too much perfume that you could smell them from where you sat. Or that the feathers on their hats are too big, or they wear too much green, or their pants are too blue for your taste. Maybe it's not too late to run away and become a nun. “...too much.”

Your mother, the queen, pats the back of your hand. The most affection she has given you in your entire life. “They all come from respectable families,” in other words, rich. “And most importantly, noble.”

“Can I still take sister Thena’s offer and become a nun instead?” You ask wryly, still trying to whisper your words.

She smiles sweetly, or what you call, her restrained smile that she gives to her courtiers. “If you don't quiet down and find a husband instead, lord Melbourne is looking for a wife.”

You gasp, head turning to look at the said lord who looks like he could be your great grandfather. “No, you wouldn't.” He catches your eyes, winking at you through his wrinkles. You make a face, scrunching up your nose and looking away at the man.

“I would dare,” she raises an eyebrow. “It's either him, or you pick a handsome young man from the line up.”

Your father finally catches on, he leans back on his throne to look at you over your mother. “It's for your own good, darling. We don't want you to die a spinster.”

You've noticed that he has a habit of calling you ‘darling’ these days. Perhaps he finally forgot your name. That's probably it since he named three of your brothers Charles because he forgot he already used that name before. Or maybe the gout has gotten to his brain.

“Would it be so bad to die a spinster?” They both crane their heads at you, brows slightly furrowed and mouths faintly agape in surprise. “I mean, you don't have to send a letter to me every year since I'll be staying here with you.” Their expressions sours further. “or maybe I could find a ship and sail the seas under our banner—” they both shake their heads, even your father's advisor shakes his head at you. So you give up, for now at least. “Or maybe I could just go and be a jester for one of my siblings.” You manage to whisper this time. Your words carried through the wind with no one to hear it but you. Or so you thought.

With the sound of the trumpets, the courting begins. Grasping your chair, you huff in place when the first man struts his stuff on the red carpeted floor.

You notice that he bows perfectly. He wears a dark blue coat over a silver hue tunic, his shoes are shined to perfection, smile even brighter than his leather shoes. “Eugene, Viscount of Van Horn, my princess.”

“A pleasure,” you say, unamused.

“I bring gifts from my land,” his attendants bring out crates full of oysters and crabs still writhing within its metal confines. “There will be more once we are married.” Your parents seemed to like it when they smiled at the slimy crates. “And a portrait of myself to better help you choose a husband.” You raise a brow, and sure enough, his people bring out a large square shaped thing that is hidden behind a white cloth. Eugene clicks his fingers, prompting them to reveal the gaudiest painting of someone ever etched on parchment.

It's not a regular portrait per se, the size is questionable, yes, but the contents of it makes you and everyone in the throne room tilt their heads to the side to see it clearly. The frame is riddled with rubies, and the painting, well, Eugene hangs upside down from a sycamore tree branch, grinning like how he is right now, from ear to ear. He's wearing the same thing as in the portrait too, at least his features are accurate. You know your mother does not look remotely similar to her portrait that hangs in the great hall.

“Uh?” You blink and every time you do, you see more and more questionable details. Like how there's somehow a field of pink roses below him, and how the sun shines to the west even though the shadow doesn't line up accurately. Some paintings have secret meanings weaved into it. Maybe he's trying to say that he can defy the rules of the world?

“You see,” Eugene waves his hand around the portrait, explaining its contents when you still look confused. “This shows my physical prowess,” he points at himself hanging upside down by just his legs. “And the sycamore tree represents—”

“Thank you, Viscount.” Thankfully, your father stops him from further getting into the artistic meanings of his painting. “We shall take your offer into consideration.” He smiles, and with a wave of his hand, his men shoo the viscount away to the side. “Next suitor.”

No one steps forward, instead, you see the waiting men move about, looking like there's someone making their way out the front. You wait for him to come out. And who greets you has you pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Henry, duke of Plainsboro, my princess.” The seemingly six year old lord bows down to you.

“Him?” You gesture towards the child. “He's a baby.”

“Pardon me, princess. But I'm eight and a half.”

“Oh my apologies, my lord.” You clear your throat, head turning towards your parents. “He's a toddler!” Your mother hushes you down, giving you a pointed look of disapproval. “Mother, surely we're not considering him.”

“What is your offer, lord Henry?” The king asks, ignoring your protests.

The young lord grins toothily, you scoff when you see that he's still missing his front tooth. “I guess I'm the invisible princess now.” There's only been two suitors so far and you already feel like your soul is getting sucked right out of your miserable body.

“Two hundred livestock, including my prized stallion. And half a million coins for your royal coffers.” The toddler has money to burn. You gotta hand it to his governess or whoever taught him how to converse, he speaks better than your older brothers combined.

That seemed to get your parents attention. “Oh dear god no, not the baby, surely?”

“Hush,” your father waves you off. “We'll highly consider your generous offer, my lord.” He smiles at the child, and you don't even hide your displeasure anymore.

You fight the urge to groan loudly and throw a fit in front of all the nobles. Instead, you huff and silently cry in your plush golden seat.

The next man with a beard starts to walk towards the front, but another man pushes him away and gets to the front before the other noble could say something.

This one intrigues you, something from his walk, up to his confident smirk doesn't seem to scream ‘I'm important! And you must pay heed to me!’ kind of air around him. He seems genuine when he smiles at you, you find it contagious, bringing a smile to tug at your own lips. His hazel eyes appear to be piercing through you without the familiar uneasiness the rest of the courtiers give you. And there's something from his bow that almost makes you giggle in place. It's like he's mocking the way the previous nobles bowed to you and your parents.

“Hobart, lord of Doverhill.” His voice brings a heavy accent, it's smooth in your ears but weighs heavy on your chest. A comfortable heaviness that brings solace. He flicks his eyes at you, his pupils catch the light perfectly, making his multi-colored eyes glow from the stained glass windows. “My princess.” He acknowledges you, and for some reason, your heart leaps from your chest.

He wears a simple red and white suit with silver inlays stitched at the hem. He has a bird engraved on his cufflinks, and shoes that are scuffed but presentable. You look closely at him to read him better, and you spot that his suit doesn't seem to fit right on him, the length is too short, and his trousers look like it stops right above his ankles. Nonetheless, he looks good in it. *Incredibly good.

“What is your offer lord…” your father knits his brows, briefly looking at his adviser who is equally as confused, mumbling a ‘where in the world is Doverhill?’ “Hobart?”

“Nothin’. I offer you nothin.’” He says confidently, smirk staying on his lips. If you took your eyes off him for a second, you wouldn't have seen his quick wink thrown at you. You think the other suitors should just go home.

“Is this a jape?” Your mother scoffs, manicured nails pointing accusingly at him.

“No, but I do have somethin’ for her.” He glances at you, eyes staying on you. “My love, unconditional love that never wavers. I offer nothin’ but warmth to tide her over durin’ the winter, a full belly so she'll never starve nor hunger for food or affections. And I offer smiles and laughter that will echo around our manor.”

You just noticed that he's now standing in front of you with the light shining behind him, giving him a halo of sunlight. “And time, time to just live and be ourselves beyond our titles.” He reaches for your hand, thumb brushing along your wrist, eyes never leaving your own as he kisses the back of your hand gently. You're glad you hid your gloves from your handmaiden before leaving your apartments.

This is your romantic novel moment.

You're speechless. “I—”

“Ask me whatever you want and I shall grant it.” He whispers to you and only you.

“I choose him!” You say boisterously, heart thrumming in your chest. The crowd yells their various protests, murmurs from the court that you ignore. Without missing a beat, you look over to your bewildered parents. “Can I promenade with Lord Hobart?”

“B–but he offers nothing—”

You don't wait for their approval, instead, you grasp his hand tightly around yours and with a bow to your king and queen, you walk off hand in hand with the lord of Doverhill.

It's safe to say that everyone was left gawking at the door you left in. It was a full minute before anyone got wise and followed you towards the gardens.

—

By the time you make it towards the inner halls of the castle, every guard and noble are prowling for you and your new acquaintance. Gossip thrives at court, and your family's home is not an exception. You lead him side by side, you've let go of him after it quieted down in the throne room. Smiling, there's a pep in your step as you pass by your siblings’ former apartments.

“What are your hobbies, Lord Hobart?” Your hands are tucked behind you, hiding your twiddling thumbs from the handsome lord.

“Call me Hobie.” He glances at you, brilliant pools of hazels catching the sun's rays. “I play the lute.”

“How peculiar,” you grin wider. “It’s definitely interesting though.”

He raises a brow. “The name or the hobby?” Chuckling, he maneuvers around you, hands hidden in his pockets as he appears from behind you. He plays it off nonchalantly, grinning at you as he twirls back into his place next to you. You two now have switched places with him walking next to the rooms and with you right beside the tall windows that faces the glimmering sea outside.

“The latter. I like your nickname.”

“Thank you, love.” Your heart leaps in your chest, you hope he doesn't notice. “Better than hanging upside down on a bloody sycamore tree.”

Your laughter echoes further down the hall, “yes, that was incredibly odd. The portrait had me in stitches.”

“Ironic too,” he smirks, eyes glancing about the hallway. Perhaps he just likes the decor and the ancient oil paintings on the walls.

“How so?”

“Sycamore represents wisdom. I don't think that man had any, based on his taste in art.”

You giggle, and you see him smile softly at you. “I learned something new today.” You nudge his shoulder with your own, surprisingly, he does the same. “Do you read, my lord? I'm partial to it myself.”

“Whenever I can. But ‘m a bit busy these days.”

“Ah yes, a land to tend to and people to take care of.” You clasp your hands together as he leads you down the long hallway. Hobie nods with a gentle smile as if he's reminiscing about his home.

“How ‘bout you, d’you have people you take care of?”

A weird question to ask, but you answer it nonetheless. “I guess I did, my siblings, before they all left to marry. We took care of eachother. Made sure that everyone was heard, made sure to fight for eachother. But when it was time to marry, none of them could fight it even when we all dared to go against it.” You realize what you've said, back tracking. “I must apologize, that was… a lot.”

He shakes his head gently, the simple silver necklace around his neck shines brightly in the sun. “It's not a lot. It's good to have people that care for you, and for you to care for them. That's just family.”

You smile at his words, the pit in your stomach grows as you miss your siblings dearly.

A comfortable silence falls around the two of you, you're taking in his entire presence. He's a lot nicer and sweeter than you thought he would be when you thought he was just playing for your favour. He's so close to you that you can see every line, indent and mole on his chiseled face. And how he smells like freshly cut pine and like dandelions in the spring. You could only hope that he likes you back, he may save you from a lifetime of a loveless and cold marriage.

You two pass by the jewel apartments where your family’s most precious crown jewels are safely kept under lock and key. There's a couple of guards standing by the large metal doorway, but you don't seem to recognize them since you always kept to yourself most of the time and would always watch people during feasts and balls while everyone else were schmoozing. Somehow, their uniforms seem to not fit them well. One even had his shirt inside out.

You hear something jingling, but before you could follow the sound, Hobie tilts his head towards you with a lopsided smile while his hand ghosts over the small of your back. Guiding you away towards the sweet smelling gardens.

Hobie pushes the doors open, and the sun greets the two of you as birds chirp and fly overhead. The white puffy clouds provide shade, and the flowers are in full bloom, from the tulips down to the sunflowers that are as tall as him.

He whistles out, and you watch his awestruck face at the sheer beauty of the renowned garden. “You've got a fountain ‘ere?” he gestures with his head towards the bubbling marble fountain with two cherubs spitting water at the top of its spire.

You smile at his wonderment. “Yes, my great grandfather commissioned it for my great grandmother. It's a bit gaudy but the sentiment behind it is sweet.”

Hobie walks closer to it as leaves crunch underfoot and with the sun kissing his skin. He waves his hand over the falling water, letting the cool water drench his sleeve as it trickles down, not caring about it at all.

“Is this drinkable water?” He asks blatantly.

“I don't know, but it is clean.”

His eyes are downcast, looking like he's in deep thought while the water splashes his hand. “Did you know that down in the streets where your subjects live they survive everyday on dirty water?” His tone changes, brows creased. “And over ‘ere you're using it for a bloody fountain.”

You blink, inhaling deeply. “I–I didn't know. I'll make sure my father knows about this—”

“Don't worry, princess, he knows.” He spits out your title with malice.

“I'm sorry if I offended you,” you grasp tightly at your heavy skirt. “Forgive me.”

Hobie sighs, face softening, and eyes observing your expression as if he's trying to find a lie within your eyes. “You should tell him. He might actually do somethin' this time.”

“I will—”

You hear leaves crunch a few ways away, once you look over at where it came from, you see a bulbous skirt hiding behind a topiary of a rabbit.

“This place has eyes and ears.” He holds out his hand for you, waiting, not taking forcibly. “I know a place where we can hide.”

“You know? It's your first time here, is it not?”

“I heard there's a hedge maze ‘ere. One of the nobles couldn't stop talkin’ about it.”

Your apprehension fades, and you take his hand gingerly. Fingers sliding on his palm, feeling every calluses and scar on his skin. When he cups your hand gently, you swear you felt sparks fly in your vision.

Hobie's chest rises and falls slowly as he takes you in under the soft sunlight. “C’mon, love.”

With his hand upon yours, you let him guide you further and further into the emerald labyrinth. You watch him from behind, eyes trained on him and only him. Perhaps this is what your sisters and governess told you about when you know a person could be that person your heart yearns for. Or maybe this is your own romance novel riddled mind making up a delusion through rose coloured glass. Either way, you find him ethereal, like a sea captain, or perhaps a god walking amongst men.

He expertly dodges the nosey courtiers, twisting and turning around the hedges as if he had been there or have studied the labyrinth.

With you in tow, he stops when you both reach the middle of the maze where a statue of the minotaur lies defeated with Theseus standing above him with his sword embedded in the Minotaur's shoulder blade. The creature's face is contorted into pain and anguish as tears fall down on the grassy ground.

“This one is my favourite,” you say while he stares at the old statue. “It's been here for a long time, and it'll remain here even when I'm gone.” His hand still holds onto you as you turn towards him. “Why exactly did you join the courting?” He's taken aback. “Those men out there wanted my dowry, or my royal blood to be passed down to their children. But I don't see that want in you, Hobie. You're different from them. Like you've lived a thousand lifetimes.”

“‘m not a vampire or immortal if that's what you're askin'”

You grin, tamping down your laughter. “The way you walk, stand, and look at things. There's no sense of urgency nor you give insincere interest, it's all earnest. And you listened to me, no one ever listens to me.” You brush your hand across the scar on the back of his hand. “You seem to enjoy everything like it's your last day, you don't walk with haste like the rest of them. Time goes very quickly here but with you, it's at a snail’s pace. As if you have all the time in the world.” You breathe, eyes watching his unreadable expression. “I think I know who you are, Hobie.”

He laughs, grinning widely, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Our intel did say you're brilliant. The forgotten princess.”

Surprisingly, you grin back, standing toe to toe with him. “You’ve been the thorn on my father's side for years. The blue bloods hate you but the common people adore you. I never thought I'd look at the eyes of the man who wishes for my family's downfall.”

He brushes your cheek with his knuckles. “This the real you, princess?”

“I've been me the entire time, have you?” You lean forward, looking at him through your lashes. “Is this the real you, Hobie? Or shall I call you by your pseudonym?”

He chuckles deeply. Hands raising up in mock surrender. “You got me.”

The bells in the highest tower ring three times, signaling a thief within the walls of the castle. “And here I thought I was wrong.”

Hobie tilts his head, smirk tugging at his lips. “I have to take you with us now.”

“Oh woe is me.” You feign fear a bit too on the nose to be considered genuine. It's better to be taken in by a known generous thief than to marry a stranger who only wants you for your womb.

“Thought you'd be difficult.” He chuckles as he hears thunderous footsteps running towards the center of the maze. “May I?” He gestures for you, and you shrug, putting your hands behind your back. “Why are you cooperatin’?”

“Maybe I've got a proposition for you and your crew.”

He stands behind you, holding your wrists in one hand while he brandishes a dagger at your throat. He doesn't threaten you with it or poke and prod at your skin. He just points the dagger at one of the exits through the hedge maze where you surmise a dozen or so guards race through to get to you.

“What d’you want?” He whispers against the shell of your ear.

“Freedom.” You whisper back.

“What are you offerin’?”

You chortle, feeling his rough hands softly enclose around your wrists. Leaning back, you look at him upside down. “That depends on who shows up in front of us.”

With trepidation, Hobie points his dagger at the exit while he backs himself into the balcony that faces the sea. His back hits the warm stone of the bannister, and he tightens his hold on the dagger.

Footsteps rush in, and out comes the same guards you saw in front of the crown jewel room, together with a few more people dressed as staff and even a chef. They heave and pant, smiling once they see him. Hobie puts his dagger down to his side, mirroring their relieved smiles.

You notice the lack of crowns and jewels in their satchels. “No luck?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Holy shit, you actually got the princess to like you.” A girl who must've been no older than sixteen walks towards you, her blond hair is tied into a neat bun to mimic the look of the staff but her dagger strapped to her side says otherwise. “It's a pleasure, your highness.”

“Likewise—”

“What happened?” Hobie interrupts your friendly greeting.

“Two words, a lot of fucking guards.” The one with the dark hair and blue eyes says while he exhales like he tried to win a race against a horse.

“That's more than two words, moron.” A woman clad in black says, she winks when she meets with your eyes. “I guess we got something more precious.”

“Princess, meet the crew. Crew meet the princess.” Hobie says while he takes a rope from one of them. He tries your hands together, leaving enough wiggle room as to not hurt your wrists.

“No jewels but we got a princess. So plan C then?” A man wearing one of the guard uniforms says. He takes his hat off, revealing a priest’s halo under it.

“You've got a priest in your crew?” You ask, looking at Hobie. There's a lot more racing footsteps heading for the center of the maze, the guards are definitely the one marching towards you now. It's nice to be remembered sometimes.

“He lost a bet.” He just shrugs it off as if that answers your question. Looking at his crew, he addresses them, “there's nothin’ we can do now, we go to plan C.”

“Wait, what's plan C?” You ask, and your eyes widen when one by one, each member jumps off the balcony down to the cold depths. “W–wait, no, absolutely not!”

“This is plan C.” Hobie hobbles towards the edge of the balcony, arm holding you against him while you hear splashes from below.

“Alright, I change my mind! Put me down!” Now that you and Hobie are the only ones left on the balcony, he carries you as he lifts himself over the balcony edge. Standing up with you in his arms, you look down for a second and vertigo shifts your vision into a blurry mess. You don't even notice that you're clutching onto his chest and hiding your face into the fabric of his suit.

“Halt!” A guard yells above the rushing blood in your ears. You hear swords getting unsheathed, and angry words thrown at the man you're currently clutching onto.

With his hands holding you, Hobie laughs, “hold your breath, princess!” He jumps over the balcony backwards despite your screaming.

Your breath is stuck in your throat, soul leaving your body as you fall. Hobie's cackling echoes while the winds rush past your ears, heartbeat thudding, and face hidden on his chest, you fall into the cold depths, chill stinging your skin. And the last thing you see before the darkness envelopes you is his hand reaching for your own in the cold bitter blue of the sea.

—

You wake up with a groan and smell distinctively like fish and seaweed. Your vision sways, seeing the ground rock too, you surmise that you're on the move. It's either that or the carriage you're on smells weirdly like horse dung.

You're placed on a horse with your hands tied behind your back, stomach hurting from the saddle, sun bearing down on you, and dress weighing like a ton from it being drenched in the water. You're uncomfortable to say the least. They didn't have the foresight to bind your feet though, you may have a chance to run if you're lucky enough to have one.

“Is this how you treat a princess?” You groggily say, head turning to see your captor.

Hobie glances down at you with a smirk, he's no longer in his frilly court clothes. Now he's donning a simple green undershirt that he purposely let loose on the collar, showing off his skin as it glimmers in the blazing sun. There's a quiver of arrows at his back, and a bow strapped on the side of his saddle that pokes your leg. His sword is settled at his hip, pommel engraved with a spider, looking like it's crawling right on the scuffed metal.

“Only to the fit ones.” His gloved hands are placed atop your back casually, using you like his personal table while he reigns in his horse. “ain't that right, Roach?” He addresses his blue dappled horse. Roach huffs, nodding as if he actually understood his rider. “See?”

You scoff, “you trained him to say yes to everything you say.” But you can't deny the heat blossoming on your cheeks. There's trotting next to you and you look to your side to see who it is.

“You’re awfully calm about all of this, princess.” The raven haired asks with a lopsided smile.

You shrug the best you can while in your position. “Just a regular day for me I suppose.”

“Have you been kidnapped before?” Someone asks behind you, his voice familiar while dry leaves crunch under the hooves.

“A handful of times, usually I'm with one or two of my siblings so my parents always pay the ransom. I don't know if they'll pay if it's only me now.”

“That's really sad actually.” He says, now you remember him being the one with the priest's hair who supposedly lost a bet.

Hobie chuckles from above, and you look up at him with a glare. He raises a brow and moves your head with his palm atop your head, turning it towards the woman riding next to you. You could only huff at him.

“What's your name, priest?” You ask, voice strained from the position.

“Just call me Ned, princess.”

“It's nice to meet you, Ned. I'm sorry about your hair.”

“It's alright. It's quite breezy actually.” He rubs his hand above his bald spot.

“How about you? What's your name?” You ask the pretty woman.

She smiles, dark eyes shadowed by the canopy above. “It's Yuri for you, gorgeous.”

You smile back genuinely. “You have such a pretty name—”

“Oi, stop makin' friends with ‘em.” Hobie flicks the shell of your ear, earning a gasp from you.

“Ow!” You hear their guffaws echo around the forest. “It's called being nice.”

“It's a tactic to make us bring you back to the palace. And it ain't workin’, princess.” He tilts his head down, mocking you with his stare.

You try to bite him but he's too fast to catch as he moves away before you could. “So that was your brilliant plan then? To charm me and take me as your hostage?” You say while trying to wiggle out of your binds.

“Not originally no, I was just there to distract you and for you to bring me to the hallways leading to the garden so I could toss them the keys I nicked from your shitty guards.” He explains plainly with a teasing smirk.

You chortle, mocking him back. “But you didn't take into account that there would be guards inside, huh? For a mastermind that’s a bit stupid of you.”

“This daft mastermind got somethin' better than jewels.” Hobie bends down, now eye to eye with you, you see every green and grey speck in his hazel eyes that reminds you of a cloudy night sky or a field of wildflowers in the summer. He blinks at your unusual soft gaze, words trapped in his throat as he sees your eyes glance briefly down at his lips. He swallows down his sudden rush of feelings, “I've got you, princess.”

You inhale, and you smell fresh dandelions in the air combined with pine swirling in the wind. “Not to disappoint you but they won't pay that much for me.”

“We don't need that much anyway,” he says, and unbeknownst to him, there's a dozen pairs of eyes watching the two of you interact. “Just enough for us to get by, love. We don't hoard wealth like your greedy father.”

“I—” before you could retort, (one that you're sure would be so clever that it'll blow him away.) A sharp whistle sounds out around the thick mossy forest. It sounds like a bird singing for a second, then when you look at where the sound came from right in front of you, a thick curtain of vines unfurl, revealing a small bustling village hidden behind the undergrowth. “What?”

“Welcome to Doverhill, princess.” He says, tapping the top of your head with his finger.

The horses move towards the large space just passing the vines, and you now see the village in its fullest form. Straw and wooden huts are built around the clearing, its chimneys softly billow out smoke; you guess that they need to lessen the use of their chimneys to stay hidden lest they want to be found in the middle of the dense forest. You look up and you spot a pair of large trees on each side with a crow's nest built atop it where archers guard and watch over the only entrance and exit in the whole village. The place is protected by large looming trees that grow around the area, every tree has lush canopies that protect the village from the intense sun and hide them from above. But the leaves still leave enough sunlight to pass through its greenery, it bathes the whole area with dappled lights that dance in the breeze.

You take note of the complete amenities, there's a stable and a barn further up ahead. Rows and upon rows of farmland where fruits and vegetables grow bountifully. There's also a bigger building on the right where you guess it could be the town hall. There are also a handful of wells placed around so that enough people would get their water without walking too far to grab a bucket. A few of the notable buildings are a blacksmith with its relentless hammer pounding onto a smoldering sword. A bakery with pastries perfectly lined up at the front, and even a tailor and a cobbler sitting next to each other.

As you get closer, you see an even bigger tree sitting in the middle of the village. Its large trunk is thick, bigger than anything you've ever seen. The leaves are viridescent and healthy, it looks like it's centuries old. There, within its branches is a tree house covered in vines with violets growing among its walls. Despite the green and browns that surround it, the lone tree house is painted with a brighter shade of blue and accents of red. The door is even in the same shade, and the ladder leading up to it is painted in alternating colours of the rainbow. It's beautiful and enticing to the eyes.

You see movement in your peripheral, taking your attention away from the tree house, the sound of childish laughter echo and you spot children running around while adults tend to their homes and garden. Once they hear the trotting of horses, they stop by to wave at you, or to Hobie and his crew more like.

“What is this place?”

“I told you, it's Doverhill.” He smiles back at the people, face turning back into a smirk when he returns his attention towards you. “What did you expect us to live? A basement of a tavern? The bloody sewers?”

“No,” you scoff while taking a whiff of a freshly baked bread cooling on a nearby windowsill. “I just didn't expect it to be this lively.” You turn towards him despite the ache in your neck. “How many people live here?”

“Close to two hundred.” He smiles proudly, eyes trained up front. “All these years and none of you royals knew that we've been in ‘ere, instead you all looked under rocks and behind waterfalls for us.”

You blink at the sheer size of the canopy that provides a dome like roof above. “It's beautiful.” With awe and delight in your eyes, Hobie could only look at you with a ghost of a smile.

“Hobart Larry Brown!” A yell interrupts your awestruck gaze, craning your neck to the source, you see an old woman with a cane quickly making her way towards the group. “Who the hell is that?!”

“Auntie!” Hobie abruptly stops his horse, the second he does, his crew disperses subtly, leaving him behind to face the wrath of the old woman. “Oi!” He tries to call them back but they're already gone. Probably hiding behind the houses to save their own skins. “We were out on that heist we were plannin’ remember, aunt Janet?”

“Don't patronize me, boy!” She points at Hobie with the tip of her cane, poking his chest as he raises his hands up in surrender. “Is this how you treat a girl? Get her off of that bloody horse.”

“Alright, alright, calm down, yeah?” He gets off the horse swiftly, and then carries you carefully with his hands on your hips.

You swear you stopped breathing the entire time he had his hands on you. As much as you want to hate him, you can't deny how he makes your heart jump in place.

Once you're back on your feet, you stretch your back, hearing the crack of the corset. Or maybe that's your back making that god awful sound. He chuckles, hiding his amusement on his shoulder with the excuse of wiping his sweat on his tunic.

“So,” Janet steps in front of you, grey eyes soft and genuine. “Who are you? A lady? A duchess?”

“A princess actually.”

“Oh lord have mercy.” She says underneath her breath, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. “You kidnapped *the princess? You fool!” With her cane, she strikes him down like a child being chastised. Hobie shields himself with his arms above his head while you laugh at his misfortune. More and more people come out to watch the spectacle, giggles and chortling echoing around the clearing. “I bet you didn't get any of the royal jewels and you settled for an actual royal jewel!”

“Aww how sweet of you—”

“Hush, you monarchist!” She takes a 180 and jabs you with her cane. You take a step back, aghast at what she called you.

“As for you!” She turns back to Hobie, finding him grinning at what happened. “Stop playing, child! I heard the commotion from over here! What if you and the rest of the little shits got hurt?”

“We have a name, Janet—” he tries to explain, only to be met with her cane on his hip. “Ow.”

Janet puts her cane back down, ending her tirade. “Bringing her here only spells out trouble, Hobie.”

“It wasn't exactly part of the bloody plan, auntie.”

She sighs, “what are we gonna do with her?” She points at you like you're not in the same place as her.

“I'm right here.” You shrug, “and if you asked me, you'll find that I'm useful and not just some dirty monarchist.”

“You are?” Both Hobie and aunt Janet ask simultaneously.

You clench your jaw, sucking in your teeth. “I will explain, but first can we take these ropes off? My wrists hurt.” They narrow their eyes at you. “I'm not gonna run away, promise.”

Hobie takes a step towards you, but he's stopped by aunt Janet putting her cane on his chest. He huffs in place, arms crossed in protest. She walks towards you with her eyes narrowed, rightfully suspicious of you. Taking her cane, she twists the top and out she unsheathes a shiny dagger from her cane. Grabbing your hands, she swiftly cuts off your binds before you could even jump back when she brandished her weapon.

Aunt Janet backs away next to Hobie while everyone in the village has their eyes on you. Glancing around, you spot an opportunity where no one is there. A break within the circle of the crowd. You pretend to roll around the joints in your wrist, opening your mouth like you're about to speak, you suddenly point at the sky.

“What the hell is that?!” They surprisingly look up, and you immediately make a break for it. You don't hear footsteps running after you so you keep running. Just as when you're about to make it towards the vines, you trip, falling face first into the dirt and skidding a few feet away. With a groan, you lift yourself up, nose aching and bleeding, mouth full of grass and soil. You feel like you've been dragged by a horse.

A head of red appears in your blurred vision. She pokes the top of your head, teasing you. “Sorry, I had too.”

“Good on you, Mayday!” Hobie makes his way towards the two of you as you slump down on the ground, hiding your face from sheer embarrassment. “Thwarted by a ten year old.”

“I'm eleven, Hobie!” She says, and you thump your forehead against the grass.

You feel a palm sliding down between your head and the grass, preventing you from bashing. “Careful now, princess, wouldn't want to hurt you now, hm?”

You groan, surrendering yourself and letting your head fall on his palm while he praises the child who tripped you.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banners by @the-shroom-garden

[esther-dot]

when long night falls 6k

Appearances can be deceiving, and Jon is not yet used to discerning truths from lies. Her hair is brown enough, even in the candlelight, where Sansa’s was red. Ygritte was kissed by fire, as was Sansa. Neither had been lucky.

All That We Forgot 16k by @rumaan

The Wall has fallen, the North has fled south, and Stannis Baratheon sends a delegation to the Vale of Arryn, the last untouched region of Westeros to seek their aid against the Others. A delegation that includes Lord Commander Snow. What will this mean for Alayne Stone?

The Thawing of Winter 100k by @jade-masquerade

Sansa knew Jon married her—married Alayne—for the Vale, or maybe, because of his past, he saw her as a fellow bastard and meant to raise her up the same as his people did for him, how they chose Lord Eddard’s sole surviving son as King in the North. But when she looked at him, she saw nothing of the sort in his eyes, only a flash of desire, the way a man ought to look at his wife, before he steadied his gaze. If this was truly wrong, she wondered, then why did the gods let it feel so right? corresponding moodboard by @the-lords-kiss corresponding moodboard by @sunbeamsandmoonrays corresponding gif by @readingisloving

Came Down the Mountain 12k by @darkmagyk

Alayne Stone makes a name for herself during the Long Night by feeding the troops of the army of the living. But after the Dawn Breaks, her father takes to back up to the Eyrie, even as she hears that a new Stark has taken Winterfell, a young Lord named Brandon. But whatever Petyr Baelish had planned for her must change with Daenerys Targrayen flies up to them on dragon back with a offer the woman who is Sansa Stark is desperate to refuse. corresponding moodboard by @the-lords-kiss

maybe everything that dies, some day comes back 1k orphaned

Following his resurrection, Jon leads a retinue of men to gather supplies and new recruits where they can find them. He doesn’t expect to find anything else along the way — that is, until they reach the Vale, where the echoes of harp strings can be heard in the middle of the night, and a bastard girl in the Eyrie strikes a chord within Jon he thought to be long vanished.

You lied to me ficlet by @justadram

“You lied to me,” Jon pants, swinging his legs over the side of her narrow bed and sinking his head into his hands.

Stone and Snow 1k by @jonsastan

“My daughter, Alayne Stone.” Petyr Baelish’s voice exuded charm and submission. The Dragon Queen did not seem impressed. Alayne dipped into a low curtsy, focusing her eyes on the Queen’s small feet. Such mighty ambition walked through the world on such tiny feet. “Your grace.” She murmured. The Queen looked at her for a long moment, longer than royalty looked at a bastard. “You’re a pretty little bird.” Still a bird. Alayne thought before scolding herself. Not before, only now. You were never a little bird in a gilded cage. You are bastard born and bastard brave.

cover your eyes (do i feel right, darling?) 12k @majicmarker

Jon Snow’s arrival at the Vale is met with trepidation and intrigue; after all, what could this bastard-come-prince want in this far-off corner of his kingdom? But Jon has heard the whispers that the Eyrie’s prized beauty is not a bastard of Littlefinger’s at all, but the daughter of Winterfell—and Jon means to steal her away.

Underneath, All Along ficlet by @myrish-lace-love

Jon steals Sansa from the Vale, but for reasons of her own, she'd like to stay Alayne a little longer. Alayne, after all, can wish for the company of her handsome traveling companion at night.

Alayne AU 4k by @sunbeamsandmoonrays

A girl in grey on a dying horse the stranger may be, but she was not his sister. The Red Woman gave him a false prophecy…and false hope, it seemed. So why was he still transfixed? corresponding moodboard

frostfire ficlet by @zoyaalinas

jon and alayne at the eyrie. vale au. post parentage reveal.

Who am I darling, to you? ficlets 1, 2 by @blackholeofprocrastination

When Jon’s is sent to treat with the Lords of the Vale, he finds someone unexpected on the weirwood throne.

as i stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge 12k

Jon travels to the Vale to find allies in the fight against the army of the dead.

godless 3k by @charmtion

Alayne. He tastes the word. Lets it roll on his tongue like a plum-stone, the scraps of flesh still sweet on it.

Lies/Luck 1k by @phosphorescent-naidheachd

“Have we met before?” he asked, the words leaving his lips before he could think them through.

My Maid of Stone 11k WIP by @cappymightwrite

It was a near windless half-hour of waiting. Of only her cloak and hair occasionally moving, her body as rooted as a tree. Later she would remember this day mostly as metals. Silver of the valley. Iron of the rocks and the clouds. Zinc of the evening storm in its full fury. Rare gold of the sky as it chose now to break open. Her silence matched her stillness, until at last, there, out of the mist: marching men. * Or, a newly crowned King in the North comes to the Gates of the Moon, unaware of what he will find there…

if i can't relate to you anymore, then who am i related to? 13k by @jonsaslove

Alayne watches him. She knows. In her bones she knows. But her mouth doesn’t let her form the words. Her mind doesn’t let her consciously acknowledge it. Because it cannot be, it can never be. If she lets herself accept the startling truth she can't unknow it, and then every carefully crafted facade will come crashing down. Because the man is Jon Snow. And Jon Snow can’t know that she is Sansa Stark. (Because she’s not. She’s Alayne Stone. And somehow that’s more dangerous). -- Or; Jon comes to the Eyrie. Alayne remembers.

Stone and Snow 1k by @alemoncakelife

Jon Snow meets Alayne Stone corresponding edit

Family Ties 2k by @framboise-fics

Her husband had her father thrown out of the Moon Door. Her husband is her brother. Her brother is her cousin. Daughter, sister, cousin, wife. Who is she supposed to be? She will let her husband tell her, she supposes.

what one finds in the snow 1k by @amymel86

The Eyrie is perhaps the most peculiar castle Jon has visited as Lord Commander, nestled high in the Mountains of the Moon, surrounded by nothing but air, craggy rocks and soaring birds.

I Remember (I Remember) 1k by @hilarychuff

“That’s pretty,” Jon says, and her heart thumps hard in her chest.

What Lies Beneath Her Skin 100k by @chispas-and-broken-bindings

Sansa Stark returns to a fractured North for the first time since traveling south as a young child to be fostered by her Aunt Lysa in King's Landing. Stannis Baratheon's troops have broken against the walls of Winterfell, starved and weakened by the relentless northern storms - their King's fate unknown. Roose Bolton lies dead within Winterfell's walls as his bastard, Ramsey Snow dances a bloody minuet with Jon Snow, the half-brother whom she has never met, and his rag-tag band of wildlings in the northern woods. Petyr promises that it's time for a true Stark to return and bring these mongrels to heel, with the might of the Vale behind her. Yet, the girl does not feel like a true Stark, nor does she know how to break free from Littlefinger's claws. A chance encounter sets her on course to Jon Snow's war camp, where disguised as Alayne, she helps the resurrected King-in-the-North unite the North and become Sansa Stark once again.

Rosemary (For Remembrance) 7k by @orangeflavoryawp

“’My daughter, Alayne Stone,’ Baelish repeats, motioning toward her, almost daring in his tone. Jon’s eyes slip back to Sansa’s.” - Jon and Sansa. What winter means in a world that teaches them to forget.

King Jon & Alayne ficlets 1, 2 by @vivilove-jonsa

“Jon would never harm me.” “How can you know that, sweetling?  Years have passed since you last saw one another.  You’re not the girl you were when you left Winterfell no more than he is the boy you knew…and I wasn’t aware you were ever that close to begin with.”

Buried under with my desires 2k by @captainbee89

Post resurrected Jon is sent to the vale to get an allegiance on Stannis' behalf. While there, he discovers a long lost part of his past, and maybe his future.

Art: Have we met before?, A familiar face, More beautiful than me? by @leulahart, Reflections of Aemon and Naerys, Should two bastards hookup or what? by @jonsawilldanceanon, The Bastard and the Lord Commander by @palominojacoby ,The Lord Commander and the bastard of the Vale, Alayne and Jon by @amunetmana, Alayne and Jon by @melinaillustrations, Alayne by @songofaurora If he calls me his daughter one more time... by @asoiastarks , Alayne Stone by knightmarescape

Edits: Charm Him. Entrance Him. Bewitch Him. Stone & Snow by @theirwinterfell, Stone was a bastard's name i'm alayne, i must remain alayne because she's stronger by @countessmaryarostova, Jon x Alayne by @paloma-nevada, Jon rides to the Vale by @lunaathorne , Oh it would be so sweet to see him by @whiteraven0001

Gifsets: May I wear your favor? by @alaynestcnes, The Brooding Bastards by @jonstarks, Jon x Alayne, Sansa loved to dance..., A Ghost wolf... by @thewindsofwolves, She had not thought of Jon in ages by @akarena, Oh it would be so sweet, Sansa Stark went up the mountain by @kitnjon, Alayne & Jon by @paloma-nevada , I am a bastard now just like him... But of course that could never be by @bericdondarrion , It sounds like a wolf by @fromtheboundlesssea , A ghost wolf by @kummittelemaanninja , Alayne Stone and Jon Snow parallels by @jonsansasource

Shout out to the post where the Jon x Alayne ship name was declared to be Jolayne (And I suppose that makes this medieval version of Jolene pertinent!)

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON SIX - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE -SALTY TEENS - POST CANON - RICKON LIVES

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 9

Title: Sugar Cookies and Devious Confessions

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Exams season and Solstice? Consider YN locked in, loaded, ready to go, hangry, and sentimental. Jungkook is just along for the ride with a hefty side of acts of service, quality time and physical touch are his love languages. Who'da thunk?

Warnings: T, language, fluff, so much fluff actually, I've surprised myself, semi-sexual conversations, JK is a menace but Reader can keep up...mostly, touch of angst tbh, reader gets hangry and is bad at taking care of herself sometimes, but apologises and makes up for it, mostly just wholesome this time. And fun!

Word Count: 6,675

Release Date: December 8, 2024. 12:30PM

A/N 1: Hiiiiiiiiiiii. It's here, thank you to those who reminded me. I literally would have forgotten for the third week in a row without them. I love you all.

A/N 1.5: Chapter ten will be coming sometime between Dec 20th-30th as it is festive and that's all I will say about it.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Jungkook’s learned many things about you since your friendship started. 

From your favourite colours to your favourite brush to paint with. He learned that you are always team morally gray love interest in the books you read in your limited spare time, although that one was learned a little against your will. 

He’d wanted to know why you always went for them, and very begrudgingly you admitted you found it appealing when they’d do anything to protect the main character. That they always did what they thought was best or what needed to be done despite their sad backstory, because for some reason, they all had sad backstories.

Every. Single. One of them. 

And you claimed it suckered you in every time. 

But through all of your time spent together—specifically during midterms—Jungkook learned just how much you ignore all of your basic needs as a human being when it comes to exams season. 

How you’ll forget to eat all day in favour of studying, or staying up late to finish your practical exam projects, making absolutely sure they’re up to your impossibly high standards, disregarding sleep.

So it doesn’t surprise him when he turns the corner to the greenhouse cafe to see you, thinner than normal with bags under your eyes, slaving away at something on your computer. 

He hates that he can tell you’ve lost weight through your winter clothing.

You look up, briefly smiling in greeting. He can tell just from how long it took you to notice him that you need a break, a good healthy meal and some sleep.

He smiles back, but bypasses you and walks straight into the cafe. You don’t think twice about it, already knowing what he’s doing.

“Hey Vivian,” he says to the barista.

“Hey JK, the regular?” She's restocking some cups and lids to the counter.

“Please, but tag on a hot chocolate for YN and some tarts.” Vivian nods, typing the order into the cashing system, very much used to either of you adding on each other's order to your own at this point.

“Machines ready for you,” she says, already prepping the first drink—his by the looks of it.

Jungkook pays and waits patiently, watching you from the window. 

“How long’s she been here?” he asks over the currently frothing milk—that’s for your hot chocolate.

“Since seven. She grabbed a tea and hasn’t moved since.” 

It’s almost 1:30 now, and Viv looks at him knowingly. She’s watched you do this to yourself every mid-term and exam season since you started. 

“Ah. I see.” He purses his lips.

It’s only a few minutes before the drinks and tarts are ready. Jungkook grabs them and heads out the door, calling a thank you over his shoulder.

“Okay look,” he says to grab your attention as he stands directly in front of you. The act of walking to the front of you alone clearly not enough to gain it. 

Looking up, your eyes widen in glee at the treats he carries. You attempt to reach for them but he pulls them back.

“Nuh uh, you need food.” 

You look at him confused. “Those are food.”

“No, these are the reward. You need a meal.” 

You try to interrupt him. Most likely to say you do eat meals, but instant ramen or a box of mac'n'cheese do not count, and he cuts you off before you can. “A healthy meal, Picasso, something to give your body nourishment and energy. One that fills you up.”

You scowl at him. 

“But–”

“No buts,” he cuts you off again. “Healthy food. Full, happy belly food,” he says, gently patting his stomach so not as to spill his drink. “Pack up, we’re going to the cafeteria and getting you some.”

“But–”

“Y/N,” he says sternly, giving you a look that says he will not be budging on this, and that if you refuse, he’s going to throw you over his shoulder to ensure it happens. 

It was the voice of a future King, he thinks. Then internally shudders. That’s not who he is with you, but he can admit that sometimes this side of him comes in handy during times like these. 

“Fine.” You snip, very clearly not happy about this.

Fortunately, you don’t seem to have any art supplies with you today, just your computer, a notepad and pencil case. You gather them quickly, throwing them into your backpack with an annoyed look because you don’t want to stop, but he’s forcing your hand.

He doesn’t care. You need this, and it’s clear as hell you were not going to do it on your own.

You were so fucking stubborn sometimes. 

His mask, hat and baggy shirt combo mixed with some large combat boots and a slight slouch in posture has worked wonders disguising him from the public so far. In fact, he’s pretty sure it intimidates some people seeing as how they nearly jump out of his way. You’ve joked about it before, calling it his ‘scary dog privilege’…whatever that meant. 

Jungkook doesn’t mind, though. Despite being four months into the school year, and his speech at the beginning, people still fawn and stare at him. Trying to get his attention, his approval. Anything to get something from him, even if it’s just a look in their direction. 

He wonders if it will ever die down, if it'll ever go away. Or if with new freshmen every year, a new horde of people will seek him out. 

So, he’s grateful that with this little disguise on, no one bats an eye at him as you two walk the fifteen minutes it takes to get across campus to the cafeteria. He knows you’re more than mentally drained, because you’re not checking over your shoulder every few seconds to make sure no one realizes you’re with him like you usually do. 

You enter the main building, luckily the cafeteria on the ground floor, just near the back. Once there, you walk straight to the fridge of premade to-go foods. Grabbing a fruit cup, a chicken caesar salad, and a container of mixed vegetables with dip, you turn to him.

“Is this good enough for you?” you snark.

“Yep, great choices,” he says, ignoring your tone. “Very healthy and nutritious. Plus you nearly have all the food groups.”

“I do have all the food groups,” you say back, deadpan.

Wow…

You really need some sleep, he’s never heard you sound so lifeless. Or mean. You’re only ever truly mean when you’re beyond exhausted, too tired to care. 

He’d say your mood and overall vibe is like a mixture of brown and gray, but he knows if he said it out loud you’d make him specify which specific shades of brown and gray, so he keeps the thought to himself. Both not to provoke you and to be polite.  

“You’re missing dairy and grain,” he says.

You point to his hands holding the tarts and drink.

“Fair point,” he concedes, and trails you to the register, grabbing a protein shake from a nearby fridge on the way. His card is out and paying before you can reach for your wallet and you accept it, even too worn out to yell at him for buying you something. 

Hot chocolate and the occasional bag of tarts you're fine with, because half the time you’re also buying him his coffee and sharing your tarts, so you see it as a fair trade. But anything outside those and you damn near throw a fit, claiming you don’t need him to spend his money on you. 

You never want anything from him, so unlike everyone else in his life.

He leads you to a more private booth in the corner, scary dog privilege in full effect as no one dares stand in his way, and you very unceremoniously plop down, sluggishly shucking off your bag and coat. 

Definitely a brownish-gray. 

You two eat and drink in silence; you, slowly picking away at your food, him, finishing his drink then eating the vegetables from the container you don’t like. It’s a peaceful silence, contented as your mood gradually improves and some colour returns to your face the more you get into your system. 

The sight relieves him. 

“Sorry,” you say, eyes glued to the table, unable to look at him. And he knows it’s for the way you treated him pre-food.

“No worries,” he replies. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. That's good.”

Jungkook wasn’t going to push, but now that your mood’s improving, he hopes it’s safe to.

“Hey,” you look up at him, the bags under your eyes more evident under the artificial light and his heart breaks a little at the sight. “Promise me you’ll get some sleep tonight?”

A small close lipped smile finds your face, eyes soft, appreciative. The corner of his own lifts to match. 

“I promise I’ll try.”

You fall asleep early that night, 9pm. 

You don’t know what allows you to, but your exam worries fade and assignment anxiety slips from your mind the heavier your eyes grow. In the back of your head however, a thought slips through your defenses; you know it’s because of the look in Jungkook's eyes when he’d asked you too. 

The one of worry—genuine worry—for you. 

You hate yourself for causing it. You never want him to have to worry about you, god…he already has so much on his plate, you don’t want to add to it. 

But mostly…

But mostly you let yourself succumb to slumber because you don’t want to disappoint him. 

He asked you so kindly, and you know he had your best interests at heart when he did. He always does. 

You don’t have it in you to deny him that simple favour. To take care of yourself a little better.

So you sleep, just this once. For him. To help relieve him of the stress you caused.

And you know that that thought is what lets you until 10am the next day.

You feel better than you have in weeks.

You have everything you could possibly need to make all the recipes you have planned for today. Eggs, flour, sugar, soju, cutters, extracts, ginger, honey, chocolate chips, food colouring, some fruit concentrates and more are stuffed into the bags that dangle from your now struggling arms. There’s also another much lighter bag filled with a surprise for him that sits near the crook of your elbow. 

 Jungkook’s not going to know what hit him.

The door clicks open and you watch his eyes nearly leave his skull before he reaches to take them from you.

“Oh wow, you really weren’t kidding were you,” he says as he takes them to the kitchen with ease. 

Stupid muscles, you think, but the thought doesn’t hold for too long, glad at having your arm circulation back. 

“Solstice cookies are no joke in my house,” you say, following him.

“Clearly.”

He starts taking things out of the bags and you grab the one with the surprise in it before he can get to it.

“Won’t we need that?” he asks.

“Yes, but it’s not for cookies,” you start backing away towards the living room, bag behind your back. “It’s a surprise.”

Jungkook has a goofy grin plastered on his face as he follows you, and you put one on to match.

You stand in front of the coffee table and order him to sit and close his eyes, a sarcastic ‘yes ma’am’ comes from his lips, but he does as told. 

You set the contents of the bag on the coffee table; a small fake tree with built in lights, some tiny baubles in a box, a star, a polaroid camera and a custom, empty ornament.

“Okay, open!”

Jungkook opens his eyes and the same goofy grin returns, but this time there’s a sparkle in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

His voice is gentle and lovely when he asks, “What’s all this Picasso?”

“Your very own tree to decorate. We have lights, decorations, even a star for the top,” you say as he leans and picks up the star. “You said you didn’t really celebrate anymore so I wanted to bring some celebration back to you—if you wanted to, that is.”

He twirls the star in his hand, smile never leaving, as he inspects it closer. “Did you make this?”

You turn sheepish. “Ah… yeah. They don’t really sell mini toppers for the mini trees, just the baubles, so that guy’s made from the finest cereal box cardboard and tinfoil on the market.”

He just stares, at the star, at the tree, then to you. You can’t tell if you screwed up or not. Did he hate this?

But then he’s standing and you’re in his arms as he hugs you. 

You freeze, unsure of what to do for a second, before you let your arms go around him, hugging him back. 

He’s solid, you can feel the strength in him as he breathes, and the weight in his arms as they hold you. 

But also warm. So warm your cheeks start to heat to match the rest of your body that seems to be on fire. 

It ends before it barely started, and you find yourself missing him the second he’s gone. 

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head as if not realizing what he’d just done until after he stopped. You want to tell him it was okay, but he says, “thank you,” immediately after, and squats down to open the baubles. 

“You’re welcome,” you say as you watch, sitting down on the couch. He looks like a kid, the brightest of smiles on his face as he goes to place the first one, but pauses, and hands it to you. 

“You know better than me where to start.”

You giggle, placing the red sphere near the middle, and gesture for him to put on the next one. It continues like this until the box is empty, you then him, then you then him. He places the last ornament and looks to you, star in hand. 

“You do it,” you say. You’ve done this a million times with your mum, you doubt he’s done the same.

He carefully grabs the top branch that sticks up, placing the star over it. Your heart swells at how gentle he is with your handmade decoration. 

“Now the last step,” you say, as you reach for the camera. This was your favourite tradition with your mother, the yearly solstice picture. You have one from every single year after you were born, and even one with you in your mum’s belly. 

“Turn around,” you say, spinning your finger and he does, you follow.

You’re both on the ground in front of the tree, and you lift the camera, leaning into him. Still so warm. He leans right back. 

“Say 'Solstice!'” you call out, and smile.

“Solstice,” he says with you as you snap the picture.

You pause for a moment, making sure the image is done capturing before leaning away again. 

The image prints out, and you take hold of it, shaking so it develops faster. 

“Can you get some scissors, and a permanent marker?” you ask Jungkook. He leaves for only a moment, returning from the kitchen, scissors and marker in hand. 

You reach for the empty, custom ornament. It’s a camera, and where the lens would be is a spot for a picture. Cutting the polaroid to fit, you slide it in, and write solstice followed by the year on the back of the ornament.  You put it in the middle of the tree, letting the baubles frame it.

You don’t see Jungkook watching you do all of this, a look in his eye that would melt you if you saw. 

“And now for the magic,” you say, turning on the built-in lights. The tree twinkles as the little LEDs reflect off baubles, like stars on a clear night winking at one another.

You're too busy looking at the tree when you hear a click. Following the sound you see Jungkook, polaroid camera in hand, lens facing you. The image pops out and he grabs it, placing it on the coffee table beside the tree.

“Aren't you supposed to shake it?” you ask.

He looks purely serene as he responds. “Nah, polaroids have chemicals and dyes layered in them, so if you shake them you can get microbubbles or marks on them.”

You didn’t know that, but it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest that he does. His talent for photography, a result of years of study and practice. 

“Oh, good to know,” you say as you take the camera from him, and direct him to look at the tree. You snap a picture to match your own, placing it on the table beside the one he took. 

He stays sat there, staring at the tree for a while, the occasional flit towards you before the tree once again.

“It’s perfect,” Jungkook says, breaking the comfortable silence. He clears his throat before adding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You don’t know what else to say besides that, but you can see the happiness in his eyes. Their glow. Their warmth. 

You don’t think you need to say more. 

He knows. 

Time is quickly passing, and you have five recipes to get through today. So as much as you find yourself not wanting to move, perfectly happy sitting here with him for the rest of the day in this beautiful silence, you can’t. The tree is only the beginning of your day together.

“Cookie time?” you ask. 

Jungkook looks to you and takes a deep breath, as if he was also content to stay where you were for the day.

Just you, him and the tree.

“Cookie time.”

“You bitch!” you say as flour flies from his hand to your cheek. 

You were three and a half recipes in, having made two easier recipes first to ease him into a more difficult one. Shortbread, maejakgwa, and gingerbread now sit around in tupperware and cooling sheets around the apartment. 

But because of that, Jungkook is slowly losing all seriousness as you retrieve the sugar cookie dough from his fridge. It was actually the first thing you’d made, knowing it had to chill for a while beforehand, hence the three and a half. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, all knowing smirk plastered on his face like a neon billboard. 

You refuse to sink to his childish levels, and remove the beautifully chilled dough from its refrigerator bowl. Wiping your face with a cloth to clean yourself of the flour, you order him over.

“Come use all your unnecessary muscles to roll this out, quarter inch thick,” holding out the rolling pin to him. The smirk lessons only slightly, but he does as told. 

“All my muscles are unnecessary, huh?” he says after a minute of rolling. You’re by the sink washing some dishes as he does and you can all but physically see the egging in his voice. 

“Yes.”

“And why’s that?” He asks as he finishes rolling out the dough and begins on his cookie cutter decisions. You’ve learned he’s particular about which one’s he wants to use for which type of cookie. 

“Because you have like a million eight foot tall, 450 pound security guards following your every move at all times,” you say, as if this was obvious. In reality, it was a solid team of six guards who were at their tallest 6 '4, and maybe 285 at their heaviest. 

Admittedly, they were all really nice guys, having met them numerous times over the months. And you were planning on stealing some of the cookies from today to give them little solstice bags. 

Jungkook’s never going to be able to eat them all by himself  anyway…you think. And even if he could, he really shouldn’t.

“So, because I have security guards,” he looks at you unbelievingly, “my muscles are unnecessary?” 

“Yes. Why have them if you don’t need them?” At this point you’re just teasing him.

“Lots of reasons,” and he starts listing as you continue to clean. “They look nice, but that's obvious.”

“I’m sure your groupies don’t mind that at all,” you sneak in under your breath, referring to his enormous, and rather lewd mouthed female following on social media. 

“Hey, you leave my groupies out of this, they’re nice people,” he says, pointing a white powdered finger. You scoff and go back to the dishes mumbling something about how they feed his ego. 

“There’s also the fact that I like being strong. I like that I don’t get winded from jogging up the stairs, and I like that I have the ability to help damsels who show up at my place with their arms full of far too many heavy bags.”

You shoot him a glare and he laughs. “You can’t say I’m wrong.”

You also don’t have to acknowledge that comment.

He takes it as a win in your ever ongoing battle of wits. And just to try and even out the playing field a little more, as you are currently winning by a landslide, he adds on a little more to his answer, hopefully one you’re not expecting, and therefore winning by shock factor.

“There’s other reasons too, but those are a lot less PG, to say the least.”

He—

Your hands pause their ministrations for mere seconds before continuing.

How did he say it so…casually!?

Like he didn’t essentially just tell you he likes being strong for bedroom purposes. A topic you’ve never been anywhere near speaking to him about, and he just… brings it up like that? So cryptically as if he wants you to ask for clarification. 

And you do want clarification, damn him!

You hate that it makes you curious. Hate. It.

You like knowing things, not to be nosey, but because you like the mental safety it brings. When you and Nel first started having sex you did a deep dive on everything you could, to make sure nothing was a surprise and that you didn’t hurt yourself or him if you tried anything new. 

Little did you know half of the research was for nothing. Nel has never been the most sexually adventurous person, whereas you wanted to try out new things, explore, see what you like via trial and error, he was fine with good ole missionary and a handful of other basic positions. 

What you two do now works though. And that’s what counts. Compromise. Overcome. Enjoy and respect each other's boundaries. 

But it makes you wonder if Jungkook knows anything you don’t. 

That reason alone is apparently enough for you to hear, “Like what?” leave your lips before you can stop it. And you internally freak.

What the fuck! You did not just ask him that. 

That did not just come out of your mouth.

You did not jus-

“You really wanna know?” he asks, eyeing you over his shoulder with a single quirked brow, like he can’t believe you said it either, but he’ll dish you if you want him too. 

How interesting. You don’t remember gaining this level of trust from him, to be honest about something so personal. So private. 

You wonder when that happened. 

No, you say in your mind. But your head is gingerly nodding yes. 

Stop that! You think to your body, betraying you once again.

Jungkook hums before picking up a cutter, a simple circle. 

“Well,” he punctuates the word with a cutter punch. “Uhh…there’s a certain level of—” a punch, “—power dynamic I prefer having, and they definitely help with that,” another cutter punch. “I also like being able to lift my partner with relative ease, or carry them if need be. Legs around my hips is a personal favourite.”

Your dishwashing slows as he continues, unable to stop the images that flood your mind thanks to your visual thinking. 

Stupid art brain.

A small pool of heat starts to form low in your stomach. Stupid art brain.

After some more circular cutter punches, you think he’s finished and you’re relieved, but then he switches to a spikier one and continues. 

“I’ve also learned that finger strength seems to be a fan favourite,” he jokes and you gulp, forcing that thought out of your head as soon as it enters like a slingshot.  “And most of my previous partners seemed to enjoy the fact that I could, uhm…well, that I could hold them in place while I did… that is…whatever I wanted to them.” 

You ignore the wetness in forming your underwear. This conversation, regardless of who it was with, was not helping you and your complete and utter lack of sex. 

Another enormous downside to long distance, your libido and its easily excitable nature due to lack of use. Maybe an appointment with your vibrator is due soon, if you’re this affected by these attempts at sterile descriptions of sexual-like encounters. He isn’t even saying anything expressly dirty. He’s trying to be as respectful and informative in his answers as he can.

Plus, you did this to yourself. 

“But if I had to pick, I think there’s a tie for my favourite part about having unnecessary muscles for non PG purposes,” he says, and looks at you with another quirked brow, seeing if he’s allowed to proceed.

You’ve entirely stopped washing the dishes. Too focused on not focusing on the growing need blooming inside you. 

Oh yes, you’re penciling it in right now: Vibrator appointment. Tonight. 10:30pm. 

Sharp.

Time to accept the consequences of your actions.

“Consider it a potential learning opportunity. Academically speaking, of course,” you say, as a way to make this educational. That’s all this is anyway right? To see if he knows anything you don’t. 

Right?

Right.

“If you say so Picasso.” He tears the leftover dough from the neatly cut cookies, and starts laying them on a baking pan. “First, I like that I’m strong enough to flip my partner over whether they’re, uhm...” he struggles for an ‘academic’ sounding word, but settles for, “restrained, or not.”

Heat. Everywhere. There's heat everywhere and you immediately go back to the dishes, changing the flowing water to ice cold and ignoring the throbbing of your core. You’re pretty sure if you slipped your hands down your pants right now, they’d be just as wet as they are cleaning the mixing bowls. 

Maybe you should reschedule to 10. Or even 9:30. Hell, why not 9 while you’re thinking about it.

“Secondly, I like the muscles because they help me make great use of walls.”

You nearly drop the bowl in the sink, not having nearly enough time to recover before he’s looking at you again, sugar cookie filled baking pan in hand.

“You ever done something like that?” he asks, sly smirk visible. He’s trying to make light of the situation, make it a joke for the sake of comfortability.

He’s spilling ‘all’ his secrets, why shouldn’t you spill one.

The oven dings, signaling the preheating is complete and it’s ready for use. He comes closer to you, only because the oven is opposite the sink, puts them in and sets the oven’s timer for 12 minutes. Turning back around, he’s not two feet from you.

You force your voice to be as smooth and cool as possible as you face him, your own smirk plastered. 

“Wouldn't you like to know?”

Yes, yes he would.

“Call your goons in, I have their bags ready.”

“They’re not my goons,” Jungkook says, texting Shen, head of his security detail. “They’re my guards.”

You’re both finishing up cleaning the kitchen, all of the ingredients are put away, the dishes are cleaned, and Jungkook is washing down the counterspace as you write the names of everyone on the little bags filled with the results of your combined labours.

The coffee table is covered in little polaroids from today, all still resting from when they developed. Half of them have some form of baking related mess on them, be it some flour or a small lump of dough. 

You look at one he took after throwing more flour on you, your nose is scrunched and it looks like half your face is white with the stuff. It’s cute. There’s another beside it, Jungkook is pretending to lick raw batter from the whisk, eyes wide, tongue outstretched. It’s chaotic.

They’re perfect.

Shen, Dae-Seong, Asa, Rowan, Micah and Hikari are Jungkook’s security detail. They all have shared apartments in the same building. Never too far away. Shen and Asa are stationed on his floor, Mikah and Rowan are on the floor below and Dae-Seong and Hikari are on the one above. 

“Guards, goons, same difference,” you say, but you hear knocking not seconds later, no doubt Shen and Asa. 

You go and open the door, welcoming them in.

“Hey Y/N,” Asa says, scooping you up for a hug, your feet dangling. Asa’s one of the guards who’s super tall, and he’s always been very affectionate towards you. Come to think of it, a lot of them are. 

“Hey Asa, how’s Natalie?” you chuckle, hugging him back lightly. Natalie is his wife, who's still back in the capital.

“She’s good, excited to have me home soon.”

“No doubt, say hi for me.”

“Yeah, will do.”

He sets you down just in time for another knock. 

Rowan, Micah, Hikari and Dae-Seong all make their way in too, giving high fives, light hugs or happy greetings to you as they do. Soon, you’re being towered over by men, feeling very small, but never scared as they are always so lovely to you.

You suspect you’re quickly becoming their favourite. 

Jungkook they’re used to seeing, they’ve known him for years, protected him for years. They give him shit, a nod or grab him by the neck with their arms as they play wrestle to greet him. No hugs or high fives to be seen with him, only laughter. Mostly at Jungkook. 

When they’re around, Jungkook is the most at ease you’ve ever seen him at. 

“So what’s up?” Shen asks. He’s the least affectionate out of everyone, stoic even, but that doesn’t surprise you. He’s responsible for the safety of the future monarch, that’s a stressful job.

You look to Jungkook, who’s now sitting on the couch. He signals with a hand that this is all you.

“I don’t know if you all celebrate, but just in case you do, Jungkook and I spent the day baking,” Rowan snorts at that, and you ignore it, motioning for them to follow you to the kitchen. The island carrying their individually labeled goody bags comes into their view.

“And this is just a little thank you for all you do from the jackass in the other room,” you point with a thumb to the wall the couch is on the other side of. The men snicker. 

“I heard that,” Jungkook calls.

“You were supposed to,” you call back, then to the group once more, “and it’s also a Happy Solstice from me.”

Rowan and Asa are still laughing at your less than kind words about their charge as you begin to hand them their bags. Each one says thank you as you do, and Asa gives you another hug. He may be 6’4 and god knows how many pounds, but really, he was just a big teddy bear—a lethal one— but cuddly nonetheless.

“We’ve got a decent selection, but feel free to trade,” you say, giving Shen his bag last. He has a thing with going last, you have no idea why, but you respect it. You whisper to him that he has an extra of each cookie, and not to tell the others, including Jungkook. He gives you the absolute smallest of small smiles, followed by a hushed ‘thank you.’

It’s the most tender you’ve ever seen him.

Micah pipes up. “What’s this one?” he asks, holding up a cookie.

“So, we’ve got gingerbread, maejakgwa, sugar cookies, shortbread and that, my dearest Micah,” the mountain of a man blushes at that, and you laugh, “is a yakgwa cookie. Think chewy honey and ginger.”

He pops it into his mouth instantly and you swear if he could, he’d melt into a puddle. 

“There’s no way King Pain in the Ass over there made these, they’re way too good,” Hikari says, on his third one. He seems to be trying one of each, seeing which he likes. So far? Apparently it’s all of them.

“Cross my heart,” you say, “it was a gallant team effort.”

“Thanks kid,” he calls to the prince, currently entering the room to see his guards happier than he has in a very long time. He will never admit it out loud, for fear of endless mocking, but the sight warms his heart.

Dae-Seong comes up to you, and very politely asks, “Could I get the recipe you used for the maejakgwa? My wife would love these.”

“Of course, Dae-Seong,” you place a kind hand on his forearm. “Give Minji my best will you?”

The man nods, grateful. 

All the recipes today were from your memory, so you get your phone, and start typing it out. 

You have him text it to himself from your phone when you’re finished, and use that as your que to grab the camera.

“Everyone,” you call out, and immediately seven pairs of eyes, with seven full mouths beneath them, are looking at you. Jungkook’s eating some from his own stash, or so you hope. “Crowd your favourite royal on the couch please, it’s picture time.” You shake the camera gently in your hand.

“My favourite royal’s back at the pala–” Hikari tries, but a punch to the shoulder from Jungkook has him laughing in favour of completing the sentence. 

You love the relationship he has with them. Like brothers.

Quickly, Jungkook is squished between the six men, one on either side and four on the floor in front of him. They tried to fit more on the couch but they're all so big that they couldn’t.

“Everyone needs to smile, and if they don't, I'm taking more until they do,” you say pointedly, eyeing up Shen. He only nods that he understands.

“Say Solstice!”

A chorus of deep voiced ‘solstice's' ring your eyes as you look through the eyepiece and snap the picture. It prints out and you leave it with all the others on the coffee table. You see that everyone is smiling in the picture as it develops. 

Perfect. Everything about today has been perfect.

After a few more minutes of chatting, the guards have to get back to their posts, and you’re at the door, wishing everyone a happy break as they leave. 

Shen, as usual, hangs back, wanting to be the last to leave. He’s standing beside Jungkook, both watching you as you bid the others farewell. 

“I like her,” Shen says to Jungkook quietly. 

“Me too,” Jungkook says back. 

Shen can see the prince means that in more than one way.

“Keep her around.”

“I'm trying my best to.”

It’s nearing 7:30, you’re both full after ordering dinner in, not wanting to be anywhere near a kitchen until next week, and working on assignments. Jungkook’s editing some photos, and you’re writing part of an essay from your phone, having completely forgotten to bring your computer in all the excitement. 

“Hey,” you say, sitting in your spot on the couch. You nudge him with a socked foot, he has headphones on so he can focus.

He doesn’t look to you, but removes a headphone. “Yeah?”

You lock your phone, brain mush for the night. “Can we move movie night to tonight? I have an exam at 8am on Monday and I want to use tomorrow to study.”

You’ve been thinking about it for a while, deciding that today would let you know if you needed to make the switch or not. And given that you’ve spent the day on your feet and partially socializing, you doubt you’ll be able to focus for the rest of the night, exhausted. But the good kind of exhausted.

You’ve been taking better care of yourself since that day with Jungkook. Not drastically, but you’re starting to listen to your body’s signals a little more, and right now it’s telling you you need TV and sleep. 

Appointment be damned. You’ll reschedule.

Jungkook hits the space bar and removes his headphones before closing the computer. 

“Yeah, of course. But–” he cuts himself off, looking at the tree in front of him. The lights are low in the apartment and it’s dark out, so the tree shines, glowing from within. The picture of you two still sits in the middle, and the now multiple stacks of polaroids sit around its base like presents. 

“But?”

“But that means I won’t see you after today. I only have two exams left, Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning, then I’m back at the palace.”

Oh. 

Right.

“We don’t have to, I can just study earlier in the d-”

“No! No, it’s okay. It just…it changes a few things,” he bites his lip as he thinks, and places his computer on the coffee table. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes Picasso, please?”

You’re very confused but comply, closing your eyes and waiting. You hear him get up and then him walking, then a door opens. There’s some rummaging before the door closes and his footsteps near again.

The couch dips right beside you.

“Hold out your hands.”

You hold them both out, palms up, and something bumpy and cylindrical is placed in them. 

“Okay, open.”

In your hands is a leather rolling brush case, held shut by not only matching leather strings, but a red ribbon and bow. 

“Oh,” you didn’t know you were doing gifts. “Jungkook. It’s—it’s beautiful.”

“Open it.”

You untie the ribbon, setting it to the side as you also untie the leather strings, and unroll. The case is filled with brushes from Olliveri and Schultz, the best brush makers in the realm. And a small, very surprised gasp escapes you. 

You’ve never once owned any of their products. Their brushes go for $50 at the lowest, for the smallest of brushes.  

Exquisite craftsmanship goes into each and every brush, hand carved wooden handles, the best bristles you can buy, and rust resistant ferrule. You’ve always dreamed of having one of their brushes, and now here you are, with a whole set.

They’re the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Jungkook I—I don’t know what to say. I couldn’t possibly acce-”

“Yes you can. You can and you will. Please. I even made sure they put in an extra fan brush cuz it’s your favourite.” 

You notice the two brushes on the end, identical. 

He remembered. 

A lump is forming in your throat, overwhelmed with gratitude.

“I haven’t—I don’t—,” you take a breath, “I didn’t get you a gift, though.”

“Today was gift enough,” he says, and you can see in his eyes he means every word. “I haven't had a solstice like this in…a really long time, and the memories from today are enough, more than enough. I promise.”

You don’t know what to say, you haven’t been at this much of a loss for words since…ever. You can only think of one thing to convey how thankful you are.

Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you squeeze, his arms immediately around your waist. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, “I love them.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath too, savouring this moment for as long as he can. The feel of your arms around him, squeezing. The soft curve of your body up against his. His hands on your waist, you’re warmth under his touch, or maybe that was him, he can’t tell. And he doesn’t care. 

 It’s the first time you’ve ever initiated physical contact that was more than a nudge or playful shove. 

“You’re welcome, YN. Happy Solstice.” 

Chapter Ten: TBR

A/N 2: Fun fact! The tree and tin foil star are based on what I do irl. I have a dollarstore tree with little baubles and lights, but I made the star from a cereal box and tin foil because there weren't any toppers when I bought it.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

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