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ttzamara · 2 years ago

Text

Truth or Truth

(Tech x Reader (18+))

(Warnings: SMUT, Minors DNI, Sub!Tech x reader, P in V, unsafe sex (Wrap it before you tap it kids), oral, masturbation, tit fucking, slight choking, language, Alcohol consumption) !English is not my first language!

I take requests for the CW/TBB Boys! (:

6.928 words and 37.49k characters

79's was full. With 3 battalions present who had just arrived or had recently returned, the bar was even more crowded than usual, but who could blame them?

The atmosphere was good, drunk regs getting more and more drunk, many regs dancing with the other guests, couples making out in front of the toilets and couples just waiting to leave this bar to throw themselves at each other.

It wasn't often that Clone force 99 was on Coruscant and even less that they liked to have fun around the Regs, but the Clone Bar was always the perfect place to have fun. Since Wrecker had begged for 17 standard days that we would go here and had even remarked that he would buy the first round, none of you had said no, of course. Who would say no to free drinks?

The boys and you had already drunk a lot. Hunter was about to pass out, but who could blame him, his senses were the most sensitive, but that didn't stop a pretty drunk Wrecker, a pretty tipsy Tech and a drunk Echo from teasing him and getting him even more drunk. Crosshair also teased him for a while, but after a while and a poke in the ribs from you, he turned away and started talking to you.

"We have never seen you in a dress before".

he said and sipped at his drink while pointing at your dark red dress.

"I've never really had a dress before, my little sister gave it to me for my birthday and since it's been hanging in my closet for a while I thought I should try it on."

you said and crossed your legs while looking over at the others.

"And the dress doesn't happen to be in our squad's red because of one of my brothers," he said with a teasing smirk, looking over at his brother before looking at you with a grin.

"First of all Cross, the dress is in the color because I got it after I joined you guys and the dress isn't for Tech either."

you said, noticing how Crosshair looked at his brother. Fortunately, the others were still involved in their own conversation and didn't notice what you were talking about.

"I never said I was talking about Tech."

he said, taking a sip of his drink while leaning back with a grin. Shit.

"Neither did I, but why don't you drink alcohol at all?"

Your poor attempt to change the topic of this conversation didn't go unnoticed by him and Crosshair, the little shit, was about to protest when Wrecker suddenly spoke up.

"We should play truth or dare!"

He said loudly and grinned at all of you. Echo groaned and looked annoyed at Wrecker and Tech didn't look too convinced either, Hunter looked at wrecker and nodded his head grinning. That boy was really drunk to the core.

"Truth or dare? I don't think is a good idea when we, especially hunter, are so drunk"

you said, looking at the long-haired sergeant who was glaring at you. The others Echo, Tech and also Crosshair nodded while Wrecker looked pouting at Hunter.

"Then truth or truth"

Wrecker said, and he and Hunter looked at you pleadingly. The others didn't seem so averse to the idea and looked at you too.

"We can play truth or truth, but on the marauder...I don't think it would go well here."

you said, pointing to the crowded area, which was getting more crowded the later it got.

The others agreed and finished the rest of their drinks before everyone got up and headed to 79's entrance to finally head out. The booth you were sitting in was occupied right after you got up, a bunch of wolfpack boys sliding directly into the seats and grinning at you.

The air outside the club was refreshing in contrast to the sweaty alcoholic air inside. Hunter put an arm around you with a grin and gave you a peck on the cheek.

"Glad you came along."

he slurred, looking at you happily. It's a wonder what alcohol does to people, but the guys deserve it after being off-world for the last 213 standard days.

The Marauder was cooler than usual after Echo left the door open so 'maybe the stench would go away a little' which of course it didn't.

After Tech turned on some lights and Crosshair got some leftover alcohol so you guys could still drink, everyone sat on the floor in a circle.

"Alright, I'll start. Echo how's it going with the Twi'Lek you once told us about?"

Said Wrecker and everyone looked at a blushing Echo who scratched his neck in embarrassment. Had he told you that?

"It's going quite well, she's unfortunately not on Coruscant at the moment but we keep in touch."

he said and smiled a little, she really seemed to be something special for him.

"Okay, uh, Hunter, where's the weirdest place you've had sex?"

Asked Echo and you looked at him slightly shocked, that was a pretty quick 180° turn and then from Echo? geez.

Hunter grinned and took a sip of his spotchka.

"Probably in the warehouse of the clinic"

"The clinic warehouse? That's not very clean, especially for the medical stuff."

Tech said and looked at his brother critically, of course he would think about it despite his drunken state. Typical

"Oh shush. but now that you mention it so nicely tech, one thing you're into when you're having sex."

the sergeant said with a grin and looked at his brother knowingly. Oh maker, what was he up to now?

Tech mumbled something under his breath. Hunter looked wide-eyed at his brother, shocked at what he had just heard.

"What did you say, Tech? I'm afraid we couldn't hear."

Crosshair said, smirking at him. The little shit knew exactly what his brother had said, a thing confessed one night under high alcohol influence, a thing that he would never forget.

Tech glared at his youngest brother and narrowed his eyes before sighing in annoyance.

"I said, I like overstimulation."

Hunter started to protest, but he didn't say what Tech had actually just said, knowing that it apparently made him uncomfortable.

"Wrecker, have you ever caught one of us doing something but never said you saw it?"

Tech said, grinning slightly at Crosshair, who was now looking at the genius with a firm look. Wrecker, however, didn't notice the somber exchange of glances and sat up straight.

"I once caught Crosshair having sex on Echo's bed."

The aforementioned brother spat out his spotchka and looked at the gray-haired sniper, who gave Wrecker a sour look.

"On my bed?! Why would u even do that?!?"

Echo asked, looking at his brother with a bitter look. There was so much he had already experienced because of Fives and now he was experiencing that again here?

Crosshair sighed in annoyance and looked to Echo.

"Calm down, I changed all the sheets afterwards."

You wondered if that was true? But it seemed to calm Echo down.

" It's my turn, (y/n) have you ever had a thing with one of the regs?"

Wrecker asked, looking at you curiously. The others also looked at you with interest.

You were constantly on the move within different battalions during your training as a combat medic. Mostly with the Foxtrot guys, but you also saw the Torent Company, the wolfpack and the Corrie Guard men.

"With one, yes."

You said and smiled ashamedly. The guys looked at you with open mouths, knowing that they didn't really like any of the Regs, it was a little awkward to tell them.

"Anyway, Crosshair have you ever been rejected by anyone?"

You asked and looked at him questioningly, he had a big ego and that was one of the questions that tugged at it. Too embarrassing that he would ever actually admit such a thing.

"No."

He said and a slight blush rose to his ears as he turned his gaze to his glass. Hunter chuckled and looked amused at his youngest brother, who then looked at him fiercely.

"(y/n) which of the regs did you sleep with?"

Crosshair fired at you, now looking at you with a smirk. Maker, you should have known he was going to ask you again and this time you couldn't even avoid the question.

"One of the Foxtrot boys from the 212th battalion."

Crosshair looked at you with raised eyebrows and leaned his head slightly to the side. You sighed

"Captain Gregor."

"Don't I know him."

Echo said and the others nodded in agreement, phew! Crosshair shook his head in disgust and filled his glass with another drink.

Gregor was a good friend, maybe a little more than a friend, but the others didn't need to know that and after he was killed on Abafar it wasn't something you liked to talk about anyway.

"Tech, what do you look for in partners?"

you asked the genius sitting to your right, noticing how he momentarily stiffened.

"Uhh, My partner should get along well with my brothers, be loyal, be helpful, be kind-hearted, be interested in what people around her are interested in, and preferably also be intelligent, so she usually understands what I'm saying. Especially since intelligence is quite attractive in general"

Answered the brown-haired man and the redness rose up his face. Crosshair looked at him for a moment before his eyes widened briefly and looked over at you.

Tech looked up at you briefly and smiled nervously at you. Cute how he talked about this topic and he was right with the statement. Intelligence is sexy.

The evening continued with some embarrassing but also funny questions and at a certain point you leaned your head slightly against Tech's shoulder.

Tech briefly looked down at you to see if you were still awake or already asleep, but you seemed wide awake. A slight red glow on your cheeks from the alcohol and slightly smeared make-up around your eyes from all the laughing, but you were as beautiful as ever.

The brown-haired man put his left hand lightly on your thigh, just above the knee, so as not to cross a line that would make you uncomfortable in any way.

You clutched his arm lightly with your right arm and looked up at him for a moment, only to see that he was already staring at you.

But you didn't think anything of it, too carried away by the alcohol that you only grinned at him and then continued to focus on the game.

"Tech, when was the last time you masturbated?"

Hunter asked, even drunker than he was earlier in the club, but clearly more awake.

"Twenty-three standard days ago."

He said matter-of-factly and looked up.

"Twenty-three days ago? That long?"

Wrecker said shocked and you giggled at his astonishment, it seemed the rest of them were really a bunch of rabbit's that couldn't go long without sexual interaction.

"Yes, Twenty-three standard days. masturbation does have some health benefits like boosting your immune system by increasing cortisol, lifting your mood by releasing dopamine and oxytocin, and also helping you fall asleep by releasing serotonin, prolactin and also oxytocin to the brain. Nevertheless, I do not see it as an importance.

He said and then took a sip of his drink, While the others just looked at him stupidly.

"Sleep, one of the things you might want to consider sometime when we're on missions."

you said, lifting your head from his shoulder to look at him urgently. He just shook his head and looked at echo.

"Echo, have you ever used your scomp-link for anything else?"

Tech now asked, looking knowingly at a blushing Echo. Echo looked sheepishly at the ceiling of the ship and the other guys burst out laughing.

You, too, couldn't help but smile in amusement. Tech rolled his eyes mockingly, but relaxed again when he noticed how you unconsciously began to draw shapes on the back of his hand with your fingers.

Echo cleared his throat and looked apologetically at Tech, knowing that he was the one who always cleaned and repaired his scomp-link. Echo looked from you to Tech and spoke:

"(y/n) what is your favorite sex position?"

Your unconscious movement stopped briefly but started again after a few seconds.

"Mhh, I would say cowgirl?"

Tech inwardly choked on his breath. Cowgirl?

Oh maker, the thought of what you would look like riding him suddenly entered his head.

How he would hold your hips while you would slowly move up and down, how you would look into his eyes, with those beautiful (e/c) eyes. He loved your eyes so much, so much that he could drown in them for hours.

He loved so much how your eyes gleam with interest while you listen to him, how they glare at him when he hasn't closed his eyes all night. How they would stare at him worriedly when he was somehow injured during a fight. Oh those eyes

He inwardly insulted himself as he felt a familiar warmth move down his spine. But the thought of you dropping your head back and pinching your eyes shut as you moan his name never left his mind.

He glanced briefly over at Hunter, curious if he had noticed any of his brother's arousal, but the long-haired sergeant was far too drunk and too busy to nod of on his brothers shoulder to realize anything.

He straightened up slightly and crossed his legs to hide his hard-on, afterwards he looked down at you sitting there and leaning against him, enjoying yourself with his brothers.

Tech was the last to really befriend you, too jealous of the new intelligent member who was getting all the attention from his brothers. But after a while you started hanging out with him and asked him questions, but what surprised him more was that you were actually listening.

A loud yawn interrupted the conversation and wrecker looked at the clock next to the fresher door. 04:37am

"That was a great evening, good night".

Wrecker stood up and looked at all of us, only then noticing how hunter was asleep hanging on Crosshair's shoulder. Sighing he stepped over one of the glasses to pick up the sleeping sergeant and carry him to his bunk.

"Well then I'll say goodbye for today too, I have to check in with the clinic again tomorrow or today whatever, so we can restock for the next mission."

you said and slowly stood up while leaning on Tech's shoulder. Tech held your leg momentarily as you stumbled slightly and you gave him a grateful smile.

After you went to the bunks, the other two stood up as well.

"Aren't you going to bed Tech?"

Echo asked, looking at his brother questioningly, but he remained sitting on the floor with his legs crossed and picked up his datapad.

"No, not yet, I wanted to do some calcuations."

He said and turned his attention to the device. Echo sighed, but then walked wearily to the back of the ship. Crosshair looked at his older brother with a grin.

"And you don't stay seated because a random word earlier took you completely out of the world?"

Crosshair asked mockingly, pointing at Tech's crossed legs with a grin. Tech looked up at his brother with red cheeks.

"Nothing threw me out of the world."

He said stubbornly and looked Crosshair firmly in the eye. Said brother chuckled teasingly and leaned against the wall.

"Oh yeah, sorry, you didn't stare at her for a good 10 minutes while getting a boner and then crossed your legs even though we both know you hate sitting like that."

he said, taking his toothpick out of his mouth to flick it at him. Tech sneered and looked annoyed at his brother.

"Oh, before I forget, she loves giving head!"

Crosshair said, grinning and looking at his brother who grunted and clenched his eyes tightly shut.

"Copaani mirshmure'cye, osi'kovid? Usen'ye!!!" (Are you looking for a smack in the face, shithead? Go away!!!)

Tech said and looked sourly at the silver-haired sniper, who just laughed and joined the others in bed.

After Crosshair left, Tech went to the cockpit. Why would he even say that when he knows how Tech felt about you, of course he was aware that his arousal amused the sniper, but c'mon.

Tech closed the cockpit door and sat down in the pilot's chair, but the calculations he wanted to make didn't make any sense in his head.

All the attention that had once been focused on his datapad was now on his brother's words. 'she loves giving head' 'she loves giving head' 'she loves giving head' MAKER!

He put his datapad on his thigh and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping he could focus again. But all he could think of were those words.

He sighed in defeat, but it had been Twenty-three days since he had been able to relax for the last time. Too busy with his projects, too busy with the last mission and more importantly, too little privacy. The chance that he would be caught was too high, but now that everyone was pretty drunk he was sure that all of you would be fast asleep.

He closed his eyes and leaned further back in the chair before taking his goggles off his head and rubbing his hands over his eyes. The cockpit was pitch black, he almost couldn't even see his own hand, because apart from the small blinking light from his glasses, not a single light was on in the ship or even in the hangar.

He was not the biggest fan of alcohol, but he enjoyed the peaceful time with you and his brothers even more, especially with you. The dress you wore looked stunning.

And when you leaned against him during the game he could have sworn that his heart was about to jump out of his chest. The places where you touched felt cold and he longed for your touch.

The way you kept looking up at him during the game made him crazy, He always knew your eyes were beautiful, But the difference between knowing it and seeing them in person is the difference between dreaming of flying and flight.

Tech's thoughts stopped at your eyes. And there were those words again, once dispelled but they reappeared and he couldn't even complain about it. 'She loves giving head'

His eyes were still closed, too deep in his dreams and instead of resurfacing he let himself fall.

His right hand slid slowly to his pants and he slid with little pressure over the bulge that pressed firmly against the fabric of his blacks. A soft grunt fell over his lips before he sighed softly.

He slid his hand under the fabric of his blacks and ran his finger over the wet tip of his cock to spread the precum slightly. He took his hand off his pants to spit on it and with his other hand pulled the pants down to the end of his shaft.

The cold air sent goose bumps over his body, but he couldn't care less. He began to stroke his cock up and down with his right hand, the saliva smoothing the movement. A satisfied grunt left his mouth and his eyes closed tighter.

He imagined you sitting on your knees in front of him, looking at him with sparkling eyes as you stroked his cock with firm movements and gave him one of your breathtaking smiles. A breathy moan escaped his lips, louder than before, and his hips began to move in rhythm with his hand.

Tech saw you lick his cock from base to tip before you took his tip in your mouth and started sucking lightly. His hand moved faster and he began to moan softly, his other hand slid lightly over his nipples and an electric shock traveled down his back, eliciting a louder moan.

"Shit!"

he whimpered and his left hand went down to his balls to play lightly with them. A loud moan escaped his lips and his back arched against the seat.

His movements became faster and faster, Tech imagined you saying his name and taking his cock deeper into your mouth, your hands slowly moving up his thighs until you could start fondling his balls with one hand and start following the movements of your mouth with the other.

"Oh god, please"

His breathing became more frantic and he felt so close, the band in his stomach tightened more and more his leg started to wobble up and down, causing the datapad to fall off his leg and hit the floor with a loud thud.

His hands became faster, more irregular and he had to pull himself together to keep his moans as quiet as possible. His whimpering came uncontrollably and his head fell back with a gasp.

"Oh god (y/n) please, fuck."

His rhythm faltered and stopped, only hearing the squelshing sound of his hand moving and the knot pulled tight, tighter tighter tighter and he prepared to let go. His hand passed over his nipples again and he was read-.

"Tech?"

You asked, knocking on the cockpit door. Tech, startled, dropped his hand from his cock and whimpered, he was so close. Shit

He quickly put his cock back into his pants and cleared his throat, the pulsing sensation against the fabric of his pants was almost painful. He picked up the datapad and took it firmly in his hand

"Mhh?"

He said quietly through the cockpit door and with a whoosh the door opened. You stepped in through the door and squinted your eyes slightly to make him out in the darkness.

"Are you okay? I just heard a loud thud when I came out of the Feesher."

You asked, walking slowly in his direction, careful not to trip over anything.

Tech slowly turned around to you and saw the shirt you were wearing, were you just wearing the shirt? The twitch of his cock in his pants pulled him out of his thoughts, he carefully leaned the datapad over his pelvis.

"Yes everything is okay, I just accidentally dropped the datapad".

He answered your question and you leaned skeptically against the co-pilot seat. It was still dark, but your eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness to see that his cheeks were flushed and his breathing was relatively quick.

"Okay, I can't really sleep, wrecker's snoring is incredibly loud... it's a wonder the others can sleep at all, but with the amount they've all been drinking it's not that unlikely."

you said and carefully took his goggles from the seat and put them on the seat behind the pilot seat before sliding into the seat next to him.

Tech was silent, his erection pressed firmly against the fabric of his pants and his leg began to wiggle up and down again.

For a while it was just silent and Tech didn't even have a clue what he was doing, he had been staring at the same page for a good 10 minutes and the light from the device falling on his face disturbed him somehow.

"Tech"

you said softly and Tech flinched, the memory of his earlier imagination almost making him grunt. He turned slightly in your direction and looked at you, you were sitting on the chair with your head leaning back and your gaze fixed on the hangar.

He indicated with his hand that you had his attention, watching you blink rapidly and chew lightly on your lip before clearing your throat.

"You said my name earlier."

The brown haired man looked at you in panic, his hands started to sweat and the datapad in his hand was about to fall out of his hand again until you took it out of his hand.

"It doesn't bother me, you know?"

you said and leaned out a bit to look at him with a piercing gaze. Tech's mouth dropped open, did you really just say that?

"What were you thinking about?"

He had never heard you speak so boldly before, and only now did he notice that you had a clear view of his bulge. He had noticed in a panic that the datapad you had taken away from him was the only thing covering his cock.

He cleared his throat and looked at you sheepishly.

"I- Uh. Well after you asked what your favorite sex position was earlier I couldn't think of anything else and Crosshair said something earlier too and since then I couldn't get it out of my head and then- well yeah."

"What were you thinking about?"

you said again and Tech realized that you really wanted to know what he was thinking about while he was moaning your name.

"I imagined you kneeling in front of me."

he said softly and scratched his neck while watching you. But you showed no reaction, he was afraid he had crossed a line and just as you started to get up he started to apologize, but you moved in front of him.

Your knees touched his and Tech fell silent. He looked up at you nervously waiting for something, anything, a twitch of your eyes but nothing.

Until you suddenly started to grin.

The brown-haired man leaned his head to the side and looked at you in confusion. His eyes widened when he saw you kneeling in front of him.

"Wha-"

"Like this?"

You asked with a slight smile, oh god that smile. Tech shuddered in his seat and nodded speechlessly.

"And then what?"

"You started jerking me off."

He said and his leg bobbed up and down nervously. He watched as you ran your hands up his thighs and looked at him questioningly, after he nodded you carefully tugged down his blacks.

His cock stood up proudly and slapped lightly against his abdomen. Tech grunted slightly as you brought your hand lightly to his shaft. His cock was nice, a little longer than average but not too long, a little wider but not too thick.

You spit lightly into your hand and began stroking it slowly up and down. Tech grunted in satisfaction and looked at you with a hooded gaze.

"Please faster!"

He begged you and bucked his hips forward slightly. You giggled slightly and quickened your movements, a breathy moan slipping over his lips.

Your touch felt so incredibly intense. It triggered a much stronger feeling than he could ever create himself. Because after only a few minutes he was again so close to his release.

"I want to come, I want to come please?".

The brown haired man didn't know why he even asked, but his back arched strongly away from the seat and he felt like his back was about to break. His head pressed tightly against the back of the seat and his eyes squinted tightly shut.

Your movements became faster and one of your hands began to play firmly with his balls. A high-pitched moan came deep from his throat and he began to moan uncontrollably. He muttered broken words under his breath and he gasped.

Your hands didn't break their rhythm and Tech could feel the knot tighten tighter than ever.

"Look at me Tech."

He looked down at you hesitantly his eyes fell shut and you lightly slapped one of his balls, tech whimpered before opening his eyes and looking at you.

"Cum for me Pretty boy"

The compliment and the way you said those words shot him right over the edge. Small breathy moans fell over his lips as his cum shot onto your hand and also onto his Shirt.

But your movements didn't stop and Tech twitched back and forth from the overstimulation and one of his hands tried to push your hand away from him. He heard a soft click and looked down at you again, still overwhelmed by the persistent movements.

In one of your hands were his stun-cuffs and he grunted in shock as you suddenly tied his hands tightly behind the chair.

"What are you doing?"

he asked, groaning again as you took your hand off him to lick his cum off your hand. He dropped his head back from the sight momentarily and groaned before looking at you again questioningly.

The brown haired man watched as you pulled your shirt over your head, you had no bra on, the look was divine. How you knelt in front of him in just your panties and looked at him with a smile.

"Ready for more?"

You asked softly and he nodded frantically which made you giggle. His cock was still hard and he twitched in anticipation of what was about to come.

You leaned forward slightly, your hair sliding in your face slightly, and licked a strip from his base up to the tip of his cock, tech shivering as you licked at his sensitive cock.

"How are the cuffs?"

You asked, looking at him with a gentle gaze. He jiggled them slightly and then looked down at you with a smile,

"They fit well, not too tight but not loose enough that I could free myself in any way. I must still say that I have a large desire to touch you".

he remarked and your hand closed around his cock. As long as he could talk normally the job wasn't finished, just the way he raised his eyebrow and looked at you with a lecturing look.

"If you look at it that way Tech, I'm touching you because my hand is currently around your cock".

blood shot up the brown haired man's cheeks and he looked at you sheepishly.

"I don't mean your touch in general. I mean me touching you- Ohhhh"

He groaned as you put his cock in your mouth. Definitely a way to shut him up.

Your mouth felt so warm, so wet and so soft... if that's what your mouth felt like, then how would you feel?

You began to take him deeper into your mouth until the tip of his mouth touched your throat, his hips bucked forward slightly causing you to gag. Tech apologized with a moan, but you didn't let him stop you and started moving your mouth up and down with a steady rhythm.

One of your hands pressed Tech's hips against the seat and he whimpered at the loss of movement. Your other hand began to jerk him off with the rhythm of your mouth and the brown-haired man's moans grew louder.

"You are so good, fuck more please".

he moaned and let his head fall back gasping, he was embaressed that he was so close again after such a short time, but your mouth was heavenly

Tech started to protest when you suddenly took your mouth off his shaft. But he fell silent as you changed your sitting position, sat upright on your knees so that your breasts were level with his pelvis and slid between his legs closer to him.

You let a drop of spit fall between your breasts and took tech his cock closer to you to stick it between your breasts. Tech growled at the feeling of your soft breasts around his cock.

"Come on pretty boy, fuck my tits".

Your voice was a little lower than usual and he could see your dilated pupils. The sight of you and his cock between your breasts was a sight for sore eyes.

The brown-haired man started to move his hips in a thrusting rhythm and his arms flexed behind the chair. Maker

Your hands pressed your breasts tightly together as Tech moved freely up and down, the tip of his cock touching your chin again and again, which is why after a short while you stuck your tongue out and licked the tip lightly.

Tech twitched as his release came closer and closer, he had never heard himself verbally like that before, but you felt so good in every way. He groaned as his rhythm got out of control and he began to thrust frantically up and down.

The heat tightened in his belly and the rope began to knot tightly, but just when he thought he could come, all stimulation was suddenly gone and he whimpered as he arched against the chair.

"No, no, no whyyyyyy?"

he asked whimpering and bucked his hips urgently in the air to get any kind of stimulation. You struck a warning blow on his thigh and he groaned.

"Aren't you going to ask if you can come now? That's not nice tech, only bad boys do that."

you said and stood up to take his chin in your hand. Tech swallowed nervously and looked pleadingly into your eyes.

"I can be a good boy, please."

he pleaded and tears began to form in his eyes as a result of the denied orgasm. You smiled proudly at him and brushed a loose strand of hair from his face.

"Please what?"

you asked mockingly, looking at him playful. But Tech didn't seem to catch your playful gaze and squeezed out a rough "Please ma'am."

"Can you also be good enough for me and come together with me? Can you be a good boy?"

you asked him and he nodded with a groan.

You threw your legs over his and sat down on the brown-haired man's lap. Your hand pulled his face down to you and you looked into his eyes.

His golden eyes were almost black, but they still radiated as much comfort as usual, his gaze softened to admiration as he stared at you. His gaze lowered to your lips

He was so incredibly handsome, you stroked his cheekbones and pulled him closer to you. Your lips were only a few centimeters apart, tech leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours.

His lips were soft and unlike the situation you were in, the kiss was slow, romantic, emotional and a strong feeling of happiness exploded in your stomach.

Your hands went under his shirt and you pulled it up slightly, but the handcuffs prevented you from taking off his last piece of clothing.

Tech giggled against your lips and you parted your lips from his, grinning. You leaned back past his waist to undo the cuffs and freed his hands. Tech rubbed his hands briefly, the red imprints of the handcuffs coming from all the pulling.

"You okay?"

you asked, looking at his joints to check for any permanent injuries. But Tech pulled his hands out of your grip and pulled his shirt over his head before placing his hands on your hips.

"I'm more than okay."

He said breathlessly, grinning as you relaxed despite his almost painful erection. But that didn't stop him from kissing you again, your tongue slipping into his mouth and fighting victoriously against his. He parted with a light sigh and looked at you sweetly.

You grinned at him before taking his cock in your hand, tugging your panties to the side and rubbing it against your wet entrance, Tech moaned and it got louder as you slowly inserted his cock.

"Shit, you feel so good Ma'am".

He said and dropped his head against the back of the seat, his hands tightening around your hips and he had to pull himself together not to come right away.

Your lips found his neck and pressed soft kisses against his throat, after a few kisses you slowly began to playfully nip and suck his neck. Knowing that you were leaving Marks turned him on even more than he already was and he slowly started grinding your hips against him.

The sensation made him growl and your facade dropped momentarily as a soft moan came from your mouth. Tech was sure he could hear that sound for the rest of his life without getting tired of it. Maker

You straightened up and slowly began to ride him, his grip on your hips loosened and one of his hands went down to your butt with a smack. His head straightened up and his lips enclosed one of your nipples to lick and suck on it. Tech moaned as your hands pulled on the hair at the nape of his neck and bit nekishly into the flesh above your nipple.

Your pace quickened and your lips found his again in a teeth-clashing, tongue-dancing kiss.

Tech started moaning uncontrollably with your movements and he moaned so loud that you thought the whole hangar could hear him.

"You have to be quiet for me Cyar'ika, or I have to get you to be more quiet,"

you said and the genius groaned at the term of endearment. But your warning seemed either not to interest him or just not possible for him.

Your hand found his throat and you pressed lightly against his airway. Tech looked at you with a hooded gaze before dropping his head back against the backrest and groaning breathlessly as he squeezed his eyes shut.

The fire in his belly was so close to exploding, he couldn't suppress his moan, and the new sensation of the encapsulation of his airway tightened the knot a bit more.

His hips began to thrust against your rhythm and his eyes rolled back into his skull. His moans began to break and scattered tears ran from his eyes, his breath was quite erratic and his normally neat hair strands stuck sporadically to his face.

"I can't, I need to cum please, Too much please, Shit"

he slurred and moaned loudly as you clenched around him. The sweat made you shine so extraordinarily erotic, he grunted harshly.

"Come for me ner karta"

you said softly and moved your fingers down to your clit to circle it tightly. You moaned Techs name desperately and that was all Tech needed to explode.

A way too loud moan of your name left his mouth and he arched away from the chair so hard you could hear it crack. He began to tremble and his breathing quickened frantically, too overstimulated to even notice that you came right after him.

----------

After the blackness disappeared from his eyes he looked around, you were no longer on him, nor beside him. Had he dreamed that?

A slight whoosh pulled him out of his daze and he saw you come into the cockpit with a glass, you already had your shirt on and were slowly walking towards tech.

"Hello love, are you okay? You were completely gone for a few minutes."

You said, looking at him with concern before putting the water glass in his hand.

"I've never been better"

he slurred tiredly and looked at you with an loving grin. You looked at him with a smile and stroked his hair out of his face.

You helped him get dressed, at least his greys, and then quietly helped him go to the back of the ship where the others were still snoring quietly or in wreckers case loudly.

"Sleep with me"

he whispered softly and pulled you to him by the hips. You put your arms around his neck and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"You need a real night of sleep Cyar'ika and not just for a few hours".

you whispered and looked at him urgently

"I can sleep well when you are with me, please."

He whispered pleadingly and looked at you with wide eyes you sighed and nodded in agreement. But instead of following him to his bed you pulled him to yours. His bed was full of small stuff from his experiments and you certainly didn't want to sleep on it.

You lay down in the bed and Tech sat on the edge of your bed for a moment. His eyebrows drew together momentarily as he looked at Crosshair, no he had imagined that, he was asleep.

He turned over with a soft sigh and lay down with you, his arms hugging your hips and his head finding a place on your breasts.

"Sleep well ner sarad"

he whispered softly, you pressed him closer to you and noticed after a few minutes that he was fast asleep.

He looked so peaceful, he really needed the sleep and you could see it on his face. His wrinkles completely relaxed and non-existent, his breath calm and quiet, some drool ran out of the left corner of his mouth and you grinned slightly.

You sigh and close your eyes, you couldn't have asked for anything better. It may have been a bit much, but in the future it would go right.

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

"Try to be louder next time, maybe all of Couscant will hear you".

said a harshly amused voice across from your bed.

"Not all of Coruscant, but the whole system."

said an annoyed voice below you.

You looked in shock at the silver haired sniper lying across your bed looking at you in amusement, he looked at you with wide eyes and imitated Tech with a playful moan.

Scattered mocking moans came from Crosshair and the boy under your bed and tech began to move slightly.

"Crosshair shut up and sleep and echo, I expect this from Crosshair and wrecker, maybe from hunter but not from you. You rat"

you whispered urgently and gave crosshair a fierce look, both of them started snickering.

"All of you shut the fuck up and sleep, this howling has kept me awake long enough."

Said the firm voice of an already Hungover Hunter. Oops

Taglist:

Thank you for reading Love!

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luck-and-larceny · 2 months ago

Text

FFXIV Write: Reticent

She flipped a card over. King of Hearts.

“Ah. So there's a man who has been occupying your thoughts lately.”

It was important to deliver her readings more in statements than questions. Confidence was the key to convince people to pay you. That was rule number one in these kinds of games.

The woman on the other side of the cards didn't react. She didn't agree. She didn't disagree. She simply stared at the revealed card.

Ok.

Malika gave the woman space to think about it before adding, “It's important that I mention here that this does not necessarily mean you've been thinking about him romantically. The hearts represent depth of feeling and affection, but not necessarily a desire to be romantic. It could be a father figure, a mentor, or even a co-worker you've been worrying about.”

Again, no rising intonation.

And, again, no response.

Malika tilted her head slightly to get a better look at the midlander woman’s face as she peered down, unblinkingly and wordlessly at the card. Nothing. Blank.

“Let's turn over the next card then,” she said and bit back the urge to nervously clear her throat. No nervousness here! Only sport!

She turned the card over to the 9 of hearts.

“Ah,” she said, “More hearts. Now why do you think that'd be, hmm?”

The first rule of the game was: Don't ask questions, make statements.

The second rule was: Fuck it, break the rules when you need to. In this case, she hoped asking for a response would make her sound like a patient teacher allowing her student to draw her own conclusion.

“Dunno,” the midlander answered and shrugged. And that was it. Nothing.

Malika was quickly losing her patience. The way this woman stared at the cards you'd think she was watching paint dry on a wall!

“This card represents satisfaction, contentment and joy,” Malika said… emotions she, herself, was quickly forgetting how to feel. “Paired with our handsome King there it looks like things are going pretty good for you!”

Why even come get scammed by a shady asshole peddling fortunes with a regular ass card deck– not even a cheap divination deck!-- if your life is going so well? Tell me why you're here! You owe it to me!

“Oh.” The midlander answered. Flatly. No emotion.

Was she alive? Had someone created an automaton to come get their fortune read? Was this a trick? Evander was pretty good at designing machines… She looked around for evidence of him. Nothing. There was a lot of that here today.

“Oh.” Malika repeated it and then turned another card over. Ace of Diamonds. “More good fortune. Literally. You'll receive a letter soon saying you're to receive money you did not expect. Tied to the hearts here, it suggests the letter will either include good news about the man or maybe be sent by him. Is there a man you're hoping to receive good news from?”

More nothing. Absolutely nothing. Time to pack up and call this a bust. She hadn't expected to get anything too significant for reading playing cards, but she'd at least hoped for fun. Or gossip she could use at a later date on another scam. Anything at all! Reading someone else's good luck in the cards and not even getting a conversation from it left a terrible taste in her mouth that only getting sloppy drunk could fix.

She started to pack up. Silently. It's what the “customer” deserved.

The customer reached out a hand and gently held Malika’s wrist.

Weird.

“Please turn the next one over!”

Malika raised her eyebrows. Finally, something interesting. Finally feeling like she was back in control, she exerted her power by not packing up but also not turning the next card over. And not speaking either. She could feel the switch of fortune in the air, could sense the tables turn. Exhilarating.

The woman across from her blushed and released her wrist. Then, blessedly, began to speak. “I didn't want to give too much away,” she explained, “because I'd been warned these sorts of set ups could sometimes be scams.”

“Hurtful,” Malika responded. “You wound me.”

“I'm sorry! I just… I thought to protect myself I shouldn't give anything away. I should see what you say and then, you know, see if it was right. Then I couldn't be scammed, you know?”

Malika nodded. “I know. These streets can be dangerous. People can be so unscrupulous. It's a good practice to watch out for that. You did the right thing.” She smiled warmly and tried to keep a predatory grin from overwriting the warmth. “But card reading requires two people working together to create the– we'll call it a narrative. I don't have oracular visions.”

Well, not usually anyway.

“I just have the ability to read vague messages in the cards. You've got to lend your personal experience to them to make the message more specific. It's like we're dancing together when we do this. If you don't move with me, it's clumsy and unsatisfying.”

“Ohhhhh, that makes sense.”

Did it? Good! Malika rather liked the dancing analogy…even if her first thought for comparison was less polite.

“The King of Hearts is my uncle, I think. I adore him! He’s a professional “treasure hunter” and he's opening a new museum in La Noscea that is going to be full of all kinds of ancient items and artifacts and other stuff like that. He sends me letters all the time telling me all the things he's found that he'll put in the museum and other stuff he's just planning to sell and he says he's been making so much money off it all. I asked if I could become a partner, so maybe that's what the letter will be about! Next time we do a reading maybe you'll pull a card for me that shows me as Queen of Diamonds!”

Malika had to keep her head down staring at the cards. She couldn't lift it or her wolfish grin and the bad intentions in her eyes would be far too visible to Red Riding Hood.

“Maybe!” she agreed.

She turned the final card over. 2 of Spades. Its meaning: Bad luck. A need to be extra cautious. A cheat or bad actor in your life.

Malika lifted her head and her smile was nothing but sweetness. “2 of Spades! It means you've been needlessly cautious. You've been hiding so much away when you need to learn to be more open and honest. You've shut the door on your thoughts and feelings when you really need to throw that door wide open and impulsively do anything your heart desires when you desire it. Transparency is the key to your success!”

“Ohhh, that makes sense!”

“Doesn't it though! Now tell me everything about your uncle and yourself.”

#FFXIVWrite2024 #FFXIVWrite #FFXIV #Writings #Reticent #Running out of steam here #Most things going forward will probably just be short lil letters or something

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marie-swriting · 1 year ago

Text

Anything Serious - Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Summary : Three times you flirt with Natasha and one time, you confess your feelings.

Warnings : Angst, happy ending, alcohol consumption (be careful with your acohol consumption), thowing up, drunk confession, implied sex but noting explicit, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 4.7k

French version

Song inspiration : Flirting With Her by Sir Babygirl

“Here to being single !” you yell before taking a shot with your two friends Sarah and Alison.

The sound of your glass being put down on the table resonates in the bar. The alcohol burns your throat but you still let go of a victory scream. Tonight, you’re celebrating your single life like you just screamed.

You were in a relationship for the past three years before your ex broke up with you for someone else who, apparently, is better than you. You’re not going to lie, a week ago, you were a mess. You were inconsolable, you only left your home for work and you’d stay in front of the TV doing nothing. Fortunately, thanks to your best friend’s encouragement, you realised it was her loss, not yours. That’s why you want to celebrate the fact that you’re single and without any string attached.

“I’m finally gonna be able to do things I’ve always wanted to do and it’ll be easy.” you announce with joy. “I’m gonna have fun, go out as much as I want without any drama. You were right, Sarah, this is the best thing that could’ve ever happened to me. And I am telling you two, I’m gonna have so much fun…” you continue while your eyes find a woman with raven hair, “with her, for example. She is beautiful.”

“Well, the single phase would have been long.” Alison laughs as you keep looking at the woman.

“Who said I wanted to date again?”

“You’ve just fallen for her.”

“So what ? It doesn’t mean it has to be serious.”

“But you only do serious relationships.” Sarah contradicts.

“Not anymore.” you state before ordering a new shot.

“You sure you wanna do this?”

“Totally! She’s in the Navy,” you explain, pointing at her uniform, “so she won’t be here for too long, in other words, if it goes right then perfect and if it goes wrong, then I won’t have to worry about seeing her again. It’s a win-win situation.”

“Then, go shoot your shot !” Alison encourages.

“Sure do !” you exclaim before drinking your shot.

You make sure your outfit is put together before going to the bar under your friends’ encouragement. First, you talk to Penny and pay for a cocktail. You patiently wait for Penny to give it to the woman and explain to her it’s from you. Once Penny goes to another client, the raven-haired woman’s eyes land on you while she smiles and takes a sip of the drink. You take this as a good sign so you stand up and go sit next to her.

“Thanks for the cocktail. Good choice.” she comments, drinking a bit more.

“Glad you like it. I’m Y/N and you?”

“Natasha.”

“What’s your callsign?”

Natasha looks at you, surprised, not expecting this would be a detail you were interested in.

“Phoenix.” Natasha informs with a confident smile.

“I bet your callsign suits you well.”

“You tell me. What brings you here tonight?” she questions, intrigued.

“I’m just enjoying my new freedom and you?”

“Nothing special, I’m relaxing after my day at work.”

“You’re here on a deployment?”

“Yes, I’m only here for two weeks. I want to make the best out of it.”

“As do I.” you state with a flirty smile. “You should join my friends and I. We’re gonna play darts. You’re more than welcome.”

“I will.”

You smile at Natasha then go back to your friends, your mouth wide open, simulating a scream of joy. Your friends ask you a lot of questions as soon as you’re at the table with them again and you answer them without wasting a second.

“I’m telling you, by the end of this night, I have her number, at least !”

And you’ve had even more.

The next day, you wake up in an unknown bedroom, Natasha’s arms around your waist. Understanding you didn’t go home after your intimate moment, you mentally insult yourself. You don’t know if you should wait for her to wake up or leave now. You debate with yourself for a few seconds before coming to the conclusion it’s better to run away now, especially because you have some work waiting for you.

Slowly, you get out of Natasha’s grip and pick your clothes off the floor. Hastily, you get dressed before walking to the exit. When you’re about to open the door, you sigh in relief when Natasha’s voice comes behind you. You jump and turn around, facing her with your hand on your heart.

“I didn’t think you were the kind to sneak off.” she laughs.

“Oh, well, I was thinking you wouldn’t want me at your place for any longer. Actually, I…” you try to explain before admitting defeat, “I have to confess I don't know the rules for one night-stands. It’s the first time I do this.”

“Glad to be the first. And for your information, it can differ with the person though, personally, I don’t mind if you want to stay.”

“Got it. But I have to go. I have work to do.” you inform, sad to leave her so soon.

“No worries. Are you gonna go out like this?”

Following her question, you look down at your outfit, not understanding her critic. Sure, one can tell it’s not a typical Sunday outfit however, it doesn’t look ugly. You don’t see the problem. Phoenix leaves the bed before opening her closet.

“It’s cold in the morning. Here, you can take my jacket.” she says, handing the piece of cloth.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to give it back before you leave.”

“It’s okay. At least, I’ll have an excuse to send you a text when I’ll be around again.”

“Thanks for the jacket then.”

Natasha gives you a tender smile while you put the jacket on ; you don’t move for a few seconds, admiring her face one last time before leaving. You want to memorise her face because, no matter if she said she’ll text you when she’ll come back, you doubt it. You flirted, you matched, you had a nice moment but it’s only a one-time thing ; you don’t think you’re ready to start anything.

As soon as you tear your eyes away from Natasha, you zip up the jacket before opening the door. Natasha asks you to send her a message once you get home. You promise her to do it then, you leave.

And the second you come home, you grab your phone before informing her:

Message from you to Natasha, 7:36 A.M.:

I’m safe and at home. Thanks for the jacket, I promise I’ll give you back when you’ll be here again…

Or not ;)

Six months have passed since your meeting with Natasha. After your text when you came home, she simply replied “Glad to know you’re home. See you again :)” then nothing. You couldn’t have expected anything else. After all, you only shared one night together. But still, you feel a pinch in your chest, realising her lack of messages.

Therefore, you do everything to leave this story behind you. Even if you randomly met her, nothing would happen, that was for sure. You need to go back to your peaceful life where you’ve been picking some new habits. One of them being going to the Hard Deck once a week with your friends. Contrary to when you were younger, now you enjoy a good night out, having fun with your loved ones, an alcoholic drink in your hands. You’ve met some new people though, nothing that could compete with what you felt the second you saw Natasha.

This weekend is not different from the others, you find yourself at the bar. You’re laughing with your friends when a waitress comes to give you a cocktail you didn’t order. When she tells you someone paid for it and you see Natasha from afar, you can’t believe your eyes. You didn’t think you’d see her again. She gives you a sign with her own drink before taking a sip. You give her back her sign and drink.

Next to Natasha, Bradley looks at her and sighs, desperate by the situation.

“You should talk to her instead of staying at a stupid safe distance.”

“We haven’t seen each other for six months, I just wanted to make sure she was still interested before doing something.”

“Now you know she does, go talk to her.” he orders, trying to push her in your direction.

“She’s with her friends.”

“And it didn’t bother her last time to talk to you. I don’t get it, Natasha, you’ve never been like this before.”

“I know!” she exclaims, mad at herself. “And I hate how I’m overthinking this. I feel like you.”

“Well, thanks! It wasn’t even serious between you two, you shouldn’t think too much about it. Go talk to her.”

“And tell her what?”

“I don’t know! I’m not the one who had a one-night stand with her. If you don’t want to talk to her, invite her to dance.” Bradley proposes, annoyed.

“No one is dancing.”

“In less than a minute, it won’t be the case anymore. Go to her, I’m handling the rest.”

Natasha drinks her glass in one go before walking to you with a fake confidence expression on her face. As for Bradley, he’s walking towards the piano, waiting for the right moment to start playing.

You’re talking with Sarah who is in front of you when Alison catches your attention by hitting your ribs. You look at your friend, brows furrowed whilst she makes a sign to look at the other side. At the same moment you’re turning your head, Natasha is in front of you and Bradley starts playing Great Ball Of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis. Instantly, people start dancing and Natasha gives you her hand with a smile.

“Wanna dance ?”

As a simple answer, you take her hand, you stand up from your chair and follow Natasha who is bringing you to the piano, your friends on your heels. You sing alone with Bradley while Natasha and you dance without a care in the world. You’re laughing and spinning each other until the last note of the song.

Once Bradley finishes singing, Natasha keeps your hand in hers. You stare at each other with a huge smile on your face.

“I didn’t know you were back. You haven’t texted me.” you state, still surprised.

“I was going to, I’ve just arrived.”

“How long are you here for?”

“Three weeks.”

“So we have a bit more time. We should make up for the lost time. I hope I’ll be able to give you back your jacket, though I have to admit, I’d like to keep it, but you can always come to my place to try to have it back.” you propose with a flirty look.

“I will. At least, this time, I’ll be sure you won’t be sneaking off.” Natasha laughs and you roll your eyes, faking being mad.

“You’re never gonna let this go, are you?”

“I won’t.”

In spite of yourself, your heart melts when you look at Natasha’s mischievous smile. You don’t want to admit it but you missed her. You really thought you had forgotten about her, you were far from the truth. Yet, it seems like you weren’t the only one. You’re glad to see you’ve affected her as much as she’s affected you, though you didn’t want to grow attached to someone that quickly.

However, you leave your mixed feelings behind you for the rest of the night, enjoying this moment with Natasha and getting to know her a bit more.

Like six months ago, after some flirty comments, Natasha finds her way in your bed, your arms around her body.

Message from Natasha to you, 9:05 P.M.:

Hey, I’m back in town. Are you free tonight?

You look at Natasha’s text for several minutes, not knowing what to answer. You are, indeed, free tonight though, you don’t know if it’s a good idea. Since your reunion at the Hard Deck three months ago, you’ve seen each other several times and you have to confess your feelings for her are getting stronger.

At first, you thought it was just an innocent crush, however, she haunts your mind and you’re just waiting for the moment where you’ll see her again. Sure, your relationship is more physical than emotional but you’re gladly taking anything she wants to give you. Despite of yourself, she’s managed to leave her name on your lips and you yearn for the feeling of her body in your arms. You wish you could have more, though you’re pretty sure she doesn’t. You should keep your distance with Natasha, it’d be better. Like this, you’ll avoid a heartbreak again, especially considering your relationship is non-existent.

You have to lie to her and say you can’t see her. It’s better for you. That’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stay far away from her.

You didn’t stay far away from her for long.

Without knowing how, you found yourself in Natasha’s hotel room, your clothes found themselves on the floor and you found each other in the bed. A part of you is cursing at you for not listening to your rational side but currently, it’s the least of your worries.

In Natasha’s arms, you discuss several things and you realise if given a chance, you could have a beautiful love story. You have a lot of things in common and your views about the world and the future are similar. You could have had a great future with Natasha. However, after every intimate moment spent together, Natasha reminds you that it’ll never be more than nights shared together.

“I’m glad we’ve met, you know,” Natasha starts, holding you tighter against her, “because of my work, it’s always been complicated to form relationships but with you, it’s easy, peaceful. We don’t want anything serious so what we have is enough.”

“Yes, it's good. I’m enjoying every moment of my single life for the first time.” you affirm, hiding your disappointment.

“You know, the day you’ll meet someone who’s worth it, you can tell me. I’ll understand if you don’t want us to talk anymore.”

“Same goes for you.”

“You don’t have to worry about this.”

“You don’t want a serious relationship? Like, ever?” you question, looking her right in the eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want one, it’s just that it’s easier like this. I could never truly give to the other person the relationship they’d deserve so I don’t want to waste my time. Besides, long-distance relationships aren’t my thing and I can’t ask for the person to give everything up for me.” she states like it was obvious.

“But some people find a right balance between work and their lovelife.”

“You’re right. I just don’t know if I’ll find the right person one day.”

Hearing her sentence, your heart tightens in your chest. Natasha just gave you a good reminder. You really have to distance yourself from her. She doesn’t want anything serious and even if she wanted to, you’re not a person she fancies. She looked you right in the eyes and told you she hasn’t found the person worth having a relationship with.

You’re holding back your tears as best as you can while your eyes are on hers. As soon as you realise you won’t be able to do it any longer, you clear your throat before getting up from the bed and picking up your stuff from the floor.

“I…I have to go. I'm going to work early tomorrow.” you inform, putting on your tee-shirt.

“We can go to sleep now if you want.”

“No, I need to get home. I don’t have my stuff here.”

“Can we see each other in the next few days?”

“I don’t think so, I’m quite busy,” you lie, zipping up the fly of your pants. “I… bye.” you stutter.

You don’t give Natasha the time to say goodbye to you and run away from her hotel room. You search for your car keys in your bag as the tears are gathering in your eyes. They start running down your cheeks once you leave the parking lot.

You knew it. You knew it would end up in a heartbreak if you continued and it didn’t stop you. Why do you have such a fragile heart? Why do you have to get attached to people so easily? Why can’t you keep an emotional distance? Natasha seems to handle things just fine so why not you?

Once you’re at home, your tears have stopped though, your cheeks are still wet. You get ready to go to sleep and before you can lay down on your bed, you take your phone. You’re about to open your contacts when you get a text from Natasha.

Message from Natasha to you, 00:30 A.M.:

I hope we’ll have more time next time :)

You don’t have the strength to answer. Reluctantly, you delete the conversation and her number - not without doubting for several seconds. You put down your phone and try to fall asleep despite your heart being broken into a thousand pieces.

Four months have passed since your last time with Natasha and you are more or less over it.

Except if you consider your current state, you could say you’re still hurting. Saying you were drunk would be an understatement. You don't know how many drinks you’ve had but you know if you try to walk, you’ll fall. And all of this because of one damn message. Technically, you could have disregarded it. You don’t have Natasha’s number anymore so the sender was shown as an unknown number and the text wasn’t saying anything special. Her text was a simple and innocent “hey 😘” but it was enough for you to know who it was and to hurt you even more. You felt like you were finally moving on and your reaction proves you it was just a feeling.

You’re alone at the table even if you came with your friend Sarah. She’s currently dancing with a man she just met. At first, she didn’t want to leave you alone, knowing you were drowning your sorrows. However, you promised her she could have fun without feeling guilty whilst you were ordering your sixth drink.

You’re staring at your hands who are holding your drink while you’re lost in your thoughts. You should have never started this fling with Natasha. This sentence is playing continually in your mind since you left the hotel room four months ago.

The day after your last time, you went to meet your friends and you told them how sad you were whilst they were holding you in their arms. Both of them affirmed you had to move on, the very thought you feared. A part of you was hoping they’d encourage you to fight for your potential story with Natasha. Unfortunately, your friends were realistic.

You slowly keep drinking when you feel a presence next to you. Turning your head, you find Natasha and you think maybe you shouldn’t finish your drink. You’re in such an inebriated state that you start having hallucinations. You didn’t think it was possible.

“Hey, how are you?”

Maybe it’s not a hallucination after all. Natasha’s voice seems real.

“Oh, hi!” you exclaim, trying to be casual.

“I take this as it’s not your first drink.”

“Well, it’s possible. Probable.”

“Don’t you think you should go home? Did you come alone?” she questions, searching for one of your friends.

“With Sarah.”

“Do you want me to bring you home?”

“No, I’m gonna wait for Sarah.” you quickly reply, remembering you need to keep your distance.

“She seems busy.” Natasha notes, looking at your friend. “Wait here.”

Natasha walks away from you and goes to Sarah before you can’t stop her. You see her talking and your friend looking at you before reluctantly nodding. Quickly, Natasha comes back to you and takes your drink away from your hands. You’re about to complain when she helps you to stand up.

“Come on, we’re going home.”

“But I have to go home with Sarah.” you oppose.

“I told her I’ll bring you home.” she informs, surprising you.

“She agreed?”

You wouldn’t have thought Sarah would have accepted, knowing she keeps saying how you absolutely have to forget Natasha. Your state must be more pathetic than you thought.

“Considering how drunk you are, we agreed it’d be better to bring you home now. Come on.”

You don’t have the strength to fight back so you give in and follow Natasha in her car. Once you’re buckled up, Natasha starts the vehicle. Your head resting against the car window, you contemplate the night, your mind all fuzzy.

After a few minutes, you tear your gaze away from the night sky and look at Natasha. You admire every inch of her skin whilst she’s focused on the road.

“You really are beautiful.” you state straight away.

“Oh, huh, thanks.” Natasha replies, embarrassed.

“How can you be so beautiful? And that’s not it! You’re also intelligent, funny and you have so many other qualities.”

“Why do I feel like you’re accusing me of something?” she asks, hearing your tone full of reproach.

“Because if you were less perfect it’d be easier.”

“I’m far from perfect. And what do you mean by ‘it’d be easier’?”

“Stop the car.” you retort, feeling the need to throw up.

“What?”

“Stop the car! Pull up!”

She just has the time to stop the car that you’re already outside. You can only take two steps before throwing up. Natasha quickly comes behind you and holds back your hair. Once you’ve finished vomiting, you breathe for a few seconds before standing up, a shameful expression on your face.

“Sorry, that was not sexy.”

“It’s okay. You’re feeling any better?” she worries, examining your face.

“Puking helped.”

“Here.” Natasha says, giving you a tissue. “I think I have a bottle of water in my car and some mints, do you want some?”

“Yes, please.”

While you’re wiping your mouth, Natasha goes to grab the bottle and the mints. As soon as she hands you the bottle, you rinse your mouth before taking a mint. You don’t move for a few minutes, wanting to make sure your stomach won’t empty itself again.

“You feel ready to go?” she questions, stroking your cheek.

“I think so but drive slowly, it’s safer.”

“Tell me if you need to stop again.”

Delicately, Natasha takes your hand and accompanies you to the car. This time, you stay silent the whole ride. You’re focused on the landscape and Natasha doesn’t dare to disturb your mind. As the road goes on, your eyelids get heavier and you end up falling asleep.

The moment Natasha arrives at your place, she slowly wakes you up. You lightly groan before opening your eyes. Natasha helps you to go to your door whilst you’re still asleep on your feet. She brings you to your bathroom where she helps you to get ready to go to bed - and where you can finally brush your teeth. You get into your bed whilst Natasha carefully puts the sheet on you. She’s about to leave when you squeeze her hand.

“Stay.” you mutter with sleepy eyes. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’m staying here, I’m just gonna sleep on the couch.”

“Please, stay with me.” you insist, trying to bring her to you.

“Are you sure about this?”

As a simple answer, you nod. Natasha takes her shoes and her pants off, leaving her only with her underwear and her tee-shirt, before joining you in the bed. Laying down next to you, you search for Natasha’s hand. She understands what you want and puts her hand on your waist, pressing your back against her torso. At her touch, you let go of a peaceful sigh.

“By the way, I really need to give you your jacket back.” you say with a sleepy voice. “I can’t keep it just like I shouldn’t have you this close to me.” you resume, making her frown. “I care about you, you know. More than I should. I like you, Nat’.”

Upon these words, you fall asleep. Behind you, Natasha wonders if she heard you right and more specifically if you meant it. After all, it might just be the effect of alcohol? Though, she can’t stop a smile from forming on her face before holding you closer to her.

The following morning, you wake up with one of the biggest hangovers you’ve ever had. You’ve definitely reached the age where you can’t drink as much without the after-effects. You slowly open your eyes, fearing the daylight might burn them. Thankfully, there is just enough light to see without hurting you. Glancing at your night stand, you find a glass of water and a medicine which you take without an ounce of hesitation after you sit down.

As soon as you put down the glass, the bathroom door opens on Natasha, making your eyebrows furrowed. You don’t recall going home with her. Seeing the panic in your eyes, Natasha gets closer to you with a reassuring smile.

“Nothing happened. I just helped you to get home.”

“Oh, okay. What about Sarah? Does she know…”

“She knows, yes. I warned her before we left. How are you feeling today?” Natasha asks, sitting in front of you in the bed.

“Like I had too much to drink last night.” you laugh and she does the same.

“I can imagine. Do you remember anything about last night?”

“Huh, some parts, but…”

You stop mid-sentence as you try to remember what happened. Some moments are more blurry than the others, however one of them is very clear. Your confession before you fell asleep. The heat gets to your cheeks and your hands get clammy. You hope with your whole heart Natasha didn’t hear anything. However, her pointing look makes you understand your hopes are vain.

“Tell me I didn’t say that. Can we pretend like I didn’t say anything?”

“Why?” she asks, confused.

“Because it’s embarrassing and because it could never work between us.”

“Who said it couldn’t work?”

“You did.” you state as if it was obvious. “You said you didn’t want a serious relationship or a long distance one.”

“Is that why you haven’t been answering my texts?”

“What would have come out of it anyway? Besides breaking my heart.” you say, avoiding her gaze. “I know I told you I didn’t want anything serious when we started seeing each other and it was true at first but I like spending time with you, being next to you, listening to you talk even though I know I shouldn’t. I should have stopped what we had when my feelings changed. I’d understand if you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.” you whisper, tearing up.

“Y/N…” she starts, taking your hand. “I’m sorry for giving you the impression I didn’t want you. I panicked the second I realised my feelings for you. I thought you didn’t want anything serious so I kept my distance whilst staying close to you and in doing so I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry. But I do want a serious relationship with you. No matter if there is the distance, I want to try with you because you’re worth it. I care about you.” Natasha confesses, making you look up at her.

“Don’t say this to make me feel better. I was drunk when I said it and-”

Natasha’s lips are on yours before you can add another word. Surprised, you need a second before kissing her back. Natasha’s hands find their way to your hips whilst yours get lost in her hair. You kiss each other for a few seconds before breaking the kiss. You keep your eyes closed for a bit longer, enjoying the feeling. It might not be your first kiss with Natasha yet, this one feels different from the ones you shared before.

“Do you believe me now when I tell you I like you too or do you need more proof?”

“I think I need more proof, yes.” you smile with heart eyes.

“Well, in that case…” Natasha resumes before pressing her lips on yours once more.

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

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foxymoxynoona · 6 months ago

Text

To Kill A King (Chapter 15)

Banner and linebreaks by the talented @awrkives

Summary: What’s more charming than Prince Seokjin? Nothing, obviously. Except maybe the rotating palace guests who each smile and bow and charm in an attempt to hide their true motives. Fortunately Seokjin has a close circle of friends (well, servants) who watch his back and endure his humor and help him navigate the tumultuous seas of heartbreak, love, and an arranged marriage, not necessarily in that order. If only they had helped him keep a closer eye on his bride-to-be’s handmaiden, who arrives with her own agenda… or maybe it would have been better if he had noticed her less? One thing is certain as this royal drama of the heart plays out: there are many people competing to kill a king.

Main Pairing: Prince Seokjin x Female OC Genre: Historical Fantasy World, political conspiracy, romance Rating: 18+ Content Warnings & story tags: includes explicit sex (mxf, fxf), possibly graphic violence/injury later, love and sex triangles or uh quadrangles?, sort of e 2 l, sort of bodyguard trope, sort of arranged marriage, a lot of plotting murder (it’s literally in the title), maybe character death, grief, pining, angst, love, oral (f & m receiving), public sex, I don’t know everything yet as the story is long and still being written

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NOTE: check out the Character & Setting Cheat Sheet for a refresher on who’s who

Nasimyu stopped beneath the towering archway built of dark-eyed yellow sunbursts woven together. It was magnificent. Actually as lovely as Seokjin had made it out to be –which he seemed to read from her face as her hand in his elbow forced him to stop too. He only glanced briefly up at the arch and then gave her a close-lipped smile that made his cheeks puff up. He looked ridiculous, like a child, not like her soon-to-be-husband of a future king.

She drew in a deep breath and looked away from him. She needed to stop letting her mind run away with annoyance over stupid stuff. Everything was going as planned and Seokjin, she was beginning to suspect, might not be the selfish villain her father had led her to believe, and now silver threads shot through the fabric of her future. Things were looking less bleak. Seokjin might look and behave ridiculously, but he was good in bed, and he was potentially willing to just let her do the ruling she wanted to, and the day was bright and hot and only a little humid, just the way she liked it. And everything was so yellow, golden, perfect.

Behind them, their guards stopped. The entourage of servants stopped. Mindeulle and Namjoon –whom Nasimiyu was icily tolerating for the day– stopped.

King Dong-gun did not. He stepped around them, striding through the arch as if it had been set up specifically to welcome the royals (perhaps it had), his beaming face turned up as he waved at the townspeople who cheered for him. They tossed petals down from upper stories of the buildings, a hailstorm of clumps of yellow petals that made her laugh. It was a romantic idea, at least.

Obviously they must put the folks who licked the boots of the monarchy at the front. Nasimiyu was shocked to see so many pretending to adore the sight of the king. A woman fanned herself when King Donggun bobbed his head in her direction. Two men guffawed and shared a grin after the king slapped them on the shoulders as he passed. Hands reached for him until his guard nudged him safely to the center of the road and they carried forward through the shower.

“They love him?” Nasimiyu murmured to herself, baffled. It was a pretense. Most people in the kingdom, she knew for a fact, despised him. King Donggun and his excesses, his complacency, his casual cruelty.

“They don’t see him often,” Seokjin said as he gently tugged her forward. “He rarely leaves the palace these days, unless it’s to hunt in the caves. Brings the fun to himself usually but for this he comes out. I suspect he’s rather… pickled.”

“Pickled?”

“Er, drunk,” he clarified.

“Right now?! It’s mid-morning!” There, that seemed more in-line with what she expected of the King.

No, this wasn’t the time nor place. She quickly adjusted her expression from scowl to instead a broad, open smile. People were watching her and Seokjin. This was, after all, their first public outing together.

It was very important she impress her people.

She waved and almost missed Seokjin’s explanation, “Well, it’s my mother’s birthday tomorrow.”

“Shouldn’t you smile and wave?” she whispered back. “People are seeing us together for the first time.”

“Oh right.” His face, thoughtful for a moment, shifted quickly into a broad grin. It was inspirational how quickly he dropped the obviously sad topic. She recalled vaguely the Sunflower Festival was something his mother had loved but forgotten it under the stress of this first outing. She’d had a special gown made for this, and woven sunflowers into a crown across her hair, and was appeased now to see she had not overestimated and overdressed.

Music murmured in the distance, louder as they traveled down the main street. Temporary stalls had sprung up, townfolk selling flowers and roasted nuts and sausages on a stick and glass pendants and leather satchels and anything else you could think of. Side streets showed similar, branching away from this main thoroughfare. And everywhere, sunflowers. Everywhere. They reached a square and the fountain in the center was absolutely buried, the water nothing but a pool of sunflowers rippling as small children grabbed at them.

Nasimiyu felt the eyes on her and loved it. She held her chin high and the prince close, sporting the soft smile of a benefactor, eager for everyone to see how compatible she was with the royal family. Seokjin certainly played his part, pointing out things to her as if she didn’t have eyes of her own to notice, but at least it gave the impression of a man eager to please his adored. She nodded encouragement –yes she saw the man playing the accordion (a little grating, shouldn’t he go down a side street?), yes the children in their frocks were adorable, yes the dog wearing a giant fabric sunflower around his face was so funny. Seokjin laughed, delighted at it and leaned forward, trying to coax the dog close. The owner was beside himself at this attention and practically melted at Seokjin’s feet while Seokjin laid his praise of the dog on so thick Nasimiyu thought the man would realize how fake he was. It had to be fake. No one was that enamored by a dog in a costume…

“Do you want a sausage?” Seokjin asked and at first Nasimiyu thought he meant the dog. But he rose quickly and touched her arm and his whole face glowed with joy. “Or roasted peanuts? Or do you like candy floss more?”

Nasimiyu realized with shock that Seokjin was offering to get her food from one of the roadside stands. Anything could be in that food! The meat could be undercooked or the peanuts could be infested with bugs, you wouldn’t even know. It wasn’t that they didn’t have street vendors in Marvono but she certainly wasn’t eating from them.

But he looked so hopeful about it she almost felt bad to crush his enthusiasm with, “I don’t think I do. Thank you.”

Behind him, Namjoon let out a sigh, “Ah the fried chicken is back, I can smell it. Where is it?”

“Is that the only reason you came?” Mindeulle tittered.

“If you’re going right to the candy floss, have someone take you– no, just wait, we’ll get that first and then go find the chicken,” Namjoon said.

Seokjin craned his neck before nodding, “It’s over there. I think it’s the same family as last year.”

“Do I get a beer first and let it get warm while I get chicken, or get chicken and then it’s cooled off by the time I get a beer?” Namjoon sighed.

Seokjin looked pensive and then dubious –playfully so, mouth twisted into a pucker, eyes narrowed– and then sighed with a smile of surrender, “If you have an idea just say it. Don’t play like a flirt around me.”

“I’ll get beers if you get the chicken.”

“Don’t you have people who can… fetch these things for you?” Nasimiyu pointed out, gaze sliding to their servants standing uselessly behind them. Her own maid might not be very knowledgeable here but surely that Jimin could figure it out.

“It’s good for the people to see us among them,” Seokjin countered. She didn’t think that had to mean waiting in line like a nobody. He gestured across the square where, to her utter disbelief, King Donggun stood in line for a mead barrel, hands resting on his belly, fingers twitching impatiently.

“Impossible,” Nasimiyu gasped, giving Seokjin her look of disbelief.

It was Mindeulle who giggled, “Isn’t it crazy to see the king standing in line? But it’s because of the Queen, isn’t it?”

“Yes, he loved my mother so much he was willing to stand in lines,” Seokjin laughed, then elaborated, “This whole festival was for my mother. She loved sunflowers and she missed being…” He searched for the word before suggesting, “Ordinary.”

“She was never ordinary. She was a noble from birth,” Namjoon countered. “From Rinsk.”

“Yes but she was raised very simply,” Seokjin said. “Riding horses, gardening, camping for fun. She had to make her own bed once a week –my grandmother insisted on it, that it was the foundation of being a good queen.”

“And did that get passed on to you?” Nasimiyu tried to tease.

Seokjin nodded, “Oh yes, I’m very good at making a bed. Clean sheets are one of the greatest feelings in the world. Don’t you think that?”

“Well… yes. I think so too,” she admitted. Couldn’t argue with that. At home servants would fan the bed so when she’d slip into it naked at the end of a long hot day, it felt like the coolest caress across every inch of her skin.

King Donggun let out a happy laugh that reached them across the square as he found himself at the front of the line for mead.

She pressed, “Does he really pretend to be a commoner for the day?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Seokjin laughed. “You see his clothing and his entourage. He’ll have patience for exactly three lines, I bet. It was more when he had my mother to stand in line with. They’d go around all day eating the food, drinking mead and beer, listening to music… I got to run wild for the day too. My brother and I were nearly street urchins for eight hours except for our pockets full of silvers. We ate ourselves sick.” He sighed at fond memories she did not poke at.

“You could be the kind of king who does this all the time,” Mindeulle pointed out and Seokjin gave her such a fond smile that Nasimiyu almost felt jealous of it.

“I suspect I’ll be too busy once I’m king… but who says I don’t lead a secret double life as a commoner already?”

Namjoon sighed dramatically and teased, “Do you really still spend all your time reading those picture-books? That’s who you mean, isn’t it?”

“Kalamouche?” Mindeulle asked. “They’re charming. I’m glad you still find moments of joy, Prince Seokjin. Nasimiyu will need to as well, though I don’t think it’s the food here for her. Why don’t you go get your chicken and beer, we’ll find something else to do.”

Nasimiyu hesitated. The whole point was to look besotted with Seokjin, to exude an air of calm and benevolence and wisdom as a future ruler. No one would think oh look at our future queen, we’re so relieved if she was just running around with Mindeulle.

But now Seokjin and Namjoon were making a gentleman’s agreement to divide and conquer –apparently Seokjin could tolerate Namjoon after all, once there was food involved– and in short order they and their entourage were gone, and Nasimiyu had only Mindeulle and her own entourage for company.

“It’s all right not to trust the food,” Mindeulle assured her. “Though some of it is very good. I usually let my brother be the tester before I try anything but let’s go that way and we can look at the flower statues. Maybe you’ll see a pastry that catches your eye.”

“Is it a competition?” Nasimiyu guessed as they wandered down a side street. Statues of dancing women and galloping horses and curly seashells lined one side of the road, all carefully constructed of beautiful blue and pink and white blooms. It felt oddly off-theme considering the sunflowers everywhere else but pretty all the same. Where did they even get these spring-looking blooms at this time of year?

“These come in from Therepin. The summers are cooler there so the blooms last longer, especially far to the south.”

“Not near the border,” Nasimiyu murmured, thinking of marching soldiers crushing the buds underfoot.

“They’re the most beautiful there, I hear. I’ve never been anywhere close of course. I’m sure these are very expensive to bring here but no expense is spared for the Sunflower Festival.”

“I can see that.”

“It’s romantic, isn’t it?” Mindeulle pressed. “I think for one day, the King tries to pretend that his queen is still here, maybe just down another side street…” They both stopped to look over their shoulders because Mindeulle had a wistfulness in her voice. The pause let Nasimiyu realize that her guard were doing such a marvelous job at keeping a perimeter around her that it let her forget just how bustling the streets were. No ghosts of queens, just hundreds of townfolk gawking at her as they passed around her bubble of space

“People sure do stare,” she pointed out. “I don’t have anything between my teeth, do I?”

She knew she didn’t, and Mindeulle only beamed at her, “I think they’re surprised at how beautiful you are.”

“You don’t need to flatter me,” Nasimiyu said, instinctively insulted by such a compliment from the lovely Mindeulle. Her long, shiny black hair caught the light, cascading around her shoulders and down her back, all dark ink instead of the warm hues hidden in Dulce’s long waves. Her heart-shaped face was without flaw or blemish save for one beauty spot beside her nose that managed to be the loveliest imperfection. Nasimiyu had no doubts about her own beauty, but felt suddenly self conscious if Mindeulle felt like Nasimiyu needed comforting.

Mindeulle actually covered her mouth and laughed, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you with a compliment! I only meant that you look especially goddess-like when you have sunflowers in your hair, their color against your skin and hair is just… breath-taking, that’s all I meant,” she rushed out. “You already look like a queen.”

“Without the prince by my side, no one knows who I am.”

“I think they know,” Mindeulle insisted, then nudged Nasimiyu up the street with a gasp of, “Oh, but you should try those. Will you?”

“Will I try what?”

Mindeulle cheeks dimpled on either side of her smile as she leaned around the line at a stall that smelled so strongly of sugar that Nasimiyu wrinkled her nose. She was not big on sweets, even when the sweets weren’t hawked on a street corner like spoons or boots or whatever it was people typically bought from street vendors. But Mindeulle practically vibrated in place as she dug coins out of the purse at her waist and purchased four skewers of candied fruit.

“Grapes or strawberries?” she asked as they stepped aside. Nasimiyu glanced over her shoulder at her guards who looked stoic and alert and maybe like she was stupid for coming here. Her maid watched with open curiosity, as Nasimiyu’s food preferences were well known among her staff. Mindeulle must know she didn’t prefer sweets, she thought she must have said so before, but had clearly forgotten in her own enthusiasm.

“I suppose… strawberries,” Nasimiyu chose, only to correct, “No, grapes.” Sometimes grapes were sour and that was a little better than the cloying sweetness. She could pretend like she was drinking sweet wine maybe. No, she didn’t even like sweet wine.

“Have one of each,” Mindeulle insisted, handing her two sticks, like she had planned this all along. She took hold of a candied grape between her teeth and slid it right off the stick. Nasimiyu’s eyebrows raised. Wasn’t Mindeulle usually so proper and careful? Surely Namjoon would have something to say about his little sister biting and sliding fruit just right there on the street.

By Mindeulle’s grin, Nasimiyu wondered if she had the same thought. There was something to her smile as she chewed, giggling,

“Listen, you can hear the sugar crack.” She opened her mouth and bit down. The sugar did audibly crack, and juice flooded Mindeulle’s mouth, and Nasimiyu couldn’t hide her shocked laughter.

“Mindeulle!”

“Don’t scold me like my mother,” she tittered. “Try it.”

Nasimiyu did, goaded into it by Mindeulle’s brazenness. She tried a strawberry first, trying to be a little less salacious as she bit the fruit off the thin stick. The sticky sweetness in her mouth made her lips pucker and her cheeks suck in.

“That’s… very sweet,” she admitted.

“Isn’t it wonderful?”

Why was she eating this? But Mindeulle’s enthusiasm convinced Nasimiyu to try a grape too and agree with Mindeulle they were really something remarkable.

Just as Nasimiyu was trying to figure out how to subtly chuck the fruit away, a familiar voice called, “Princess Nasimiyu!” Lidmila floated to her side, admitted there by the guards at a nod of Nasimiyu’s that was probably not necessary. “Oh, I love those.”

“Try them,” Nasimiyu quickly said and thrust them into Lidmila’s hands. A loud street band wandered past so she couldn’t hear whatever Lidmila or Mindeulle shouted next, but Lidmila quickly popped the remaining fruits into her mouth and Mindeulle didn’t even seem to notice. Nasimiyu needed something to wash her mouth free of that sugar –solved when another divine intervention sent Seokjin and Namjoon their way, each holding fried chicken on a stick and a mug of beer.

“Is all the food on sticks?” Nasimiyu asked, followed immediately by, “May I have a sip of your beer, Seokjin?”

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry I didn’t get you one. Do you… like beer?” he asked. She did not particularly, and after only a sip wondered if the fruit hadn’t been the better lingering taste. He chuckled as she handed it quickly back and instead held the skewer out. “Chicken?”

“No thank you, I’m quite full.”

“Oh let’s walk down that way and see if there’s a play on,” Mindeulle suggested.

Namjoon snickered and teased his sister, “A puppet show?”

“Or a comedy.”

“The comedies won’t start until later, it’s only puppet shows right now.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s not even noon yet.”

“There’s one way to settle this,” Seokjin suggested and forged ahead. Namjoon and Mindeulle followed, and Nasimiyu found herself shockingly left behind with Lidmila.

“Did he just forget me?” Nasimiyu gasped.

“No, he looked back for you!” Lidmila assured her. “He sees you’re with me. Probably he’s trying to keep Namjoon from bothering you.”

This placated Nasimiyu, who didn’t mind walking with Lidmila anyway.

“Do you want me to suggest something else to eat?” Lidmila asked. “I think you don’t like candied fruit much or beer.”

“I don’t but I don’t think I’m brave enough yet for anything else.”

The crowds spread out further as they returned to a main street, walking vaguely in the wake of the others. They passed a balcony with a woman singing opera, which surprised Nasimiyu; she hadn’t considered there was any opera to be had here. She asked Lidmila about what the theater was like, what was popular here, and Lidmila enthusiastically explained all the entertainment to be found here.

“We can attend any of it you like,” Lidmila assured her. “I wonder if it’s very different in Marvono?”

“We shall find out. Oh, Lidmila, before I forget and while I have you alone…”

Lidmila’s face turned up to her, very open and curious, almost fearfully so, as she pressed, “Yes? What is it?”

“I wonder if I might ask for a favor.”

“Of course you may.”

“I would like to see the letters that Namjoon allegedly sent to Çiğdem.”

“Oh.” Lidmila’s eyes widened.

“I’m familiar with Namjoon’s hand from letters he’s written to the King which were shown to me. I’m curious if a simple comparison might tell us whether it’s a match or not,” Nasimiyu explained.

Lidmila pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, adorably suspicious, and asked, “Did Mindeulle put you up to this?”

“I act on my own accord,” Nasimiyu assured her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you! Only I know Mindeulle has doubts which you didn’t share about the truth of his character, seeing as what happened with...” She didn’t need to say it. Your maid.

“Yes well I’m trying to understand what exactly did happen with my maid, and what Lord Namjoon Kim’s character is, seeing as he proves difficult for the Prince to shake.” They came into view of the stage and a seated audience of almost entirely children, and standing behind all the children were Seokjin, Namjoon, and Mindeulle, all three equally enraptured by the puppet show.

Lidmila only glanced at the puppets before admitting, “She may not wish to part with them. Çiğdem, I mean.”

“Will you try? For me?”

“Yes, I can at least try. Hopefully I can do better than try. I’ll see if I can get at least one,” Lidmila assured her.

“Thank you, it means a great deal to me to have your help.”

Lidmila positively glowed, her wispy brown curls framing her face so sweetly that it struck Nasimiyu what a blessing it was that Lidmila was so good-hearted. Such an innocent face would be hard to say no to. She could do wonders with it, if she were someone with a sharper mind or harder heart. But then she wouldn’t be gentle, bubbling Lidmila.

“It’s a story about King Donggun and Queen So-yeon,” Lidmila told her after a loud noise from the stage made them both glance over. “He loved her so much he made this whole festival for her.”

“So I hear. How tragic that she died.”

“I wonder what Prince Seokjin will do to show his love for you?”

“Whatever it is, I intend to be around much longer to enjoy it,” Nasimiyu said without thinking that it might sound crass.

Before she could correct herself, Lidmila agreed, “You will be. And don’t worry, I’ll make suggestions if it seems like the Prince needs some… proper good ideas.” Nasimiyu smiled at her appreciatively, she did seem quite adept at managing things. Her confidence that Nasimiyu would live a long time was also sweet, though arguably unfounded based on how long women seemed to last in the royal family –Zselyke notwithstanding. Which was, perhaps, curious and suspicious. She wondered what Dulce would think of that question–

If only she could ask Dulce, who could no doubt make sure she lived a long, safe life here, if she cared to. She trusted no one more with her safety. It was unfortunate Dulce could no longer be trusted with her confidence, or her intimacy, or… was it her heart? No, that would be pathetic.

She glanced back at her maid who was not Dulce, and her guards who were also not Dulce. A backdrop of sunflowers loomed behind them. Really, Dulce ought to have come to this, even if they were mad at each other right now. As beautiful as Mindeulle and Lidmila both looked around the blossoms, as beautiful as Nasimiyu looked with them in her hair, she was aware these were the flower for Dulce. Something about them…

“Nasimiyu,” Seokjin greeted, suddenly by her arm. “I found you a seat. Come watch the show.”

“The puppet show?”

“It’s got romance and tragedy, and the puppet for my father looks shockingly accurate. Come on,” he insisted, practically dragging her along.

Nasimiyu decided she was probably going to develop a headache soon. Maybe. She kind of liked it here too, although maybe not watching a puppet show for children. Well, she supposed it was a good look though for her and Seokjin to watch an unobjectionable performance together. She perched on the bench he had claimed for her with Mindeulle and Lidmila on either side, and tried to look queenly with her chin high and shoulders, Seokjin stood behind her, hand pressed to her shoulder. Eventually he dropped his hand and she was glad.

“Do you like puppets?” Mindeulle leaned in and whispered.

“No,” Nasimiyu whispered back, and both girls giggled as if she, like the puppets on stage, was doing something remarkably romantic by being here. Instead she let her mind wander. How long were she and Dulce going to be angry with each other? Would Dulce have liked the candied fruit? Would she have slid the grape off with her teeth like Mindeulle had?

Namjoon’s chuckle reminded Nasimiyu he was there and she felt her heart harden again. It was good Dulce wasn’t enjoying the festival. Hopefully she was enjoying doing the laundry instead.

What few footsteps remained seemed to echo around the palace, a combination of clipped, angry steps by those annoyed not to be off at the Sunflower Festival and slow, heavy slides of those who did not feel intrinsically compelled to get their tasks done quickly.

Dulce tried to make no sound at all as she moved through the near-empty halls, a load of laundry perched in her arms and an oversized canvas bag looped over her shoulder with feathers and lightweight wooden rods poking out, and secretly a lantern. To any casual observer, it would hopefully look like a bag full of hat-making things –not that Dulce knew the first thing about making hats, but the bulky decorations were the best disguise she could envision for what would soon hopefully be several stolen paintings. She didn’t plan on being seen afterwards, but you still had to think through these things.

Already she’d had to reroute twice and was just about to make up her mind that she should take the long way out back and down the mountain to the external entrance hidden behind the ivy after all. It would waste time though, was the problem. She had a lot to do in a short amount of time. King Donggun had left the palace, which she understood to happen only for hunts, but his reason for leaving was to attend the Sunflower Fest in honor of his late wife whose birthday was tomorrow. She might not understand their relationship but she fully expected him to visit the Queen’s rooms in the near future, possibly even today, and she needed to be long finished by then.

The only obstacle was fucking Hoseok, that damn nosy tutor to the prince! Despite his loud enthusiasm about the festival for the past week, he sure seemed unbothered to be one of those left behind to tend to matters around the palace. He strode along as if it were any other day, delivering letters and notes around the palace, checking that the throne room was clean, and even apparently doing a headcount of the guards! The palace had both a castellan and butlers supposed to be doing those things, but no one seemed surprised to see Hoseok doing it instead. They just scurried to dust the corner he’d looked twice at or rushed to reassure that the new table linens were on the way and would be pressed and laid out before dinner. Perhaps he was the sort of work-dedicated person who cherished a well-run palace even more than a festival.

His diligence was going to cause a problem for Dulce though because she was not the sort of work-dedicated person one would expect to see passionately going about her tasks without Nasimiyu around. Everyone knew Nasimiyu was pissed at her. They’d all probably heard Mirta shrieking at her about the laundry she hadn’t done when she’d gone to sit on the seawall and enjoy the sunset instead. With the Prince.

The problem about Hoseok wasn’t only that he was busybodying around the palace, but also that repeatedly seeing her would embed her in his memory. When someone eventually discovered the Queen’s rooms were ransacked, Hoseok would run through the list of people he knew were in the palace and Dulce would top that list if he saw her so many times.

It led her to doing suspicious things like darting out of the hallway every time she heard footsteps in case they were his –and she hated doing suspicious things.

One more try she decided, and balanced her linens and the canvas bag and set off for the Queen’s wing with a determined step. Her whole body was on alert listening for anyone who might see even just a glimpse of her, listening for the obnoxious click of Hoseok’s books on the tile floor, hell even the skitter skitter of an escaped pet of the Prince’s.

But nothing came, and the guards in the wing were ambling down the hall and around the corner at just the right time so without even a heartbeat of hesitation Dulce opened the door and slid quickly inside.

For a moment she stood there with her back to it, waiting as she had last time to make sure no one had noticed after all. She was met with only silence. This time too she made a brisk survey of all the rooms, checking the wardrobe to make sure no one followed Taehyung’s tricks. How mortifying to have been caught that way. She was no smarter than the man who’d been killed in the inn and suddenly realizing the hypocrisy of her judgment at his lapse made her feel even stupider.

Well she wasn’t here to self-reflect, even though something about the preserved rooms made it feel like the time to do so. Now that she was sure she was alone, she set the linens and bag near the door hidden in the back of the closet and walked more thoughtfully through the rooms. Her plan was set –trash the rooms, take the painting and a few other things, make it look like a burglary– and yet when it came time to execute, she felt an unfamiliar hesitation.

Maybe it had to do with Seokjin’s mother staring down at her from the wall. She stared back up at her and noticed once again how much Seokjin looked like her. He had her cheeks, which was not something she’d ever considered a son inheriting from his mother before. He had her eyes too and her nose, her faceshape… did he actually have anything at all from King Donggun? Her hair was lighter, there was that. Maybe his eyebrows were more like his father… She tilted her head–

No, this wasn’t what she was here for. She needed to get the job done and go.

She reached for the painting and hesitated again.

Seokjin was going to be sad about her wrecking his mother’s room. There was no way around that. She hadn’t let herself think about that part of her agreement with Taehyung. King Donggun was treating Taehyung unfairly by not letting him have even a copy of the painting, but Seokjin hadn’t done anything to deserve the destruction of this shrine to his mother.

Would Taehyung tell Seokjin? Why hadn’t Taehyung gone to Seokjin with this request since they were so close? Why hadn’t Seokjin helped him? She regretted now not having asked Taehyung before why Seokjin wasn’t in on this. Plausible deniability with the king? She liked having the full picture but it was too late to ask for more now.

She wouldn’t destroy anything though, and anything she took could make its way back someday, either once Taehyung got a copy of his painting made or enough time passed that the one missing painting wouldn’t be suspicious.

Carefully she lifted the painting with Taehyung’s mother down, and two others beside it from the wall in the bedroom and carried them to the closet to wrap in linens and tuck into the canvas bag after setting the lantern to the side. They were so much bigger up close and just barely fit into the bag, she wouldn’t be able to take as many as she had planned. She took several off the walls in the painting parlor and set them down so it would look like she’d been planning to take them too and been interrupted.

Then she braced herself and pushed over the easels. The paints had long ago solidified but scattered across the floor with the brushes, one of the easels collapsed on itself while the others rested awkwardly, legs in the air. It looked silly. It wasn’t truly careless or destructive the way a thief would be as she cleaned out the place.

She tried to do better in the bedroom. She pulled the blankets off the bed as if she’d been digging for jewels and pulled the drawers out of the nightstands. It wouldn’t make sense for someone to steal paintings but not the jewels, so she swiped several pairs of earrings, a necklace, a bracelet and a tiara, avoiding the reflection of herself in the mirror. Her insides twisted as she slid the things into her bag. She had no way of knowing if any of these were sentimental, if Seokjin would be gutted for them to go missing. He liked pets and flowers and books, he seemed sentimental enough to be attached to specific jewelry.

Did she have to take everything of value? She paused and looked at the vanity and closet, stuffed with riches. A proper thief would take as much as they could carry, pearls and rubies streaming from their pockets and shoes and hat. A proper thief would certainly take the most valuable things, and jewelry was a better prize than paintings, more valuable, easier to fence. If she was truly trying to stage a burglary, she should do the same, drag away as much as she could, prioritize the small and easy to smuggle things. But she thought of Seokjin entering the room, looking around with horror at what had been done to his mother’s rooms, and felt like someone was physically holding her back.

The painting of the family, of Seokjin and the late prince Seok-ho as boys, caught her eye through the mirror’s reflection. She turned and looked, wondering if the family had been happy. It was a complicated question to answer. Happy? Or at least happier when they weren’t half of a whole? She didn’t know how much Seokjin came in here. Did he come in here and look at the painting and pretend?

She tugged the locket out from where it nestled deep in her bodice. The intricate floral pattern embossed on the front was nearly worn smooth by years brushed under her thumb. She opened it and tried to remember the portraits that had once hidden in the hollows. She would never have considered herself a sentimental person. She wasn’t. If she needed to shed the locket –and on several occasions she nearly had– she would. But looking up at the painting of young Prince Seokjin, she knew she had to leave that particular painting, even though part of her wanted it. For why? It wasn’t like she could put it anywhere. She already wasn’t sure where Taehyung was going to keep the big painting of his mother. It was over half her height, he couldn’t stow it in the bunkhouse where the yard boys slept!

Taking too long, she scolded herself and promptly swiped everything from the vanity onto the floor. Not every thief would destroy the room as she went but she wanted it to look like someone careless or thoughtless or even possibly hateful of the royal family. These things would divert suspicion from both her and Taehyung. She was none of those things, a truth that clinched in her belly as she flinched when the late queen’s combs and cheek powder and lip stain hit the floor. The ornate flowers popped off a particularly beautiful comb that Dulce regretted not taking for her own personal stash, if she was someone who could be so selfish and collect stolen things. The queen was wearing it in one of the paintings. It was beautiful and now it was broken and shame made Dulce sweaty.

Had she done enough damage to move on? She slipped into the queen’s closet and found herself stunned once again. The volume of clothing and jewelry here was overwhelming, even beyond Nasimiyu’s closet in Marvono. By comparison, Nasimiyu was practically impoverished with how few gowns she had here, fewer than two dozen until her new ones were made. Dulce had three sets of clothing to her name, not including the shift she slept in.

She took a couple pieces of jewelry –two rings and a bracelet– and slid them into her pocket, then simply tugged clothing from the hangers, again to look like she had meant to take things, or pilfered through for secret valuables. Even though she was leaving many valuables just sitting right in the open. Hopefully no one would find these things too odd but even if they did, at the very least it wouldn’t point to her.

Dulce surveyed her work. It didn’t seem like enough but she couldn’t bring herself to do more. There wasn’t anything personal for her in destroying this sanctuary, though she suspected Taehyung might have done significant damage. Or maybe not, since the Queen had been kind to him. But now these were the King’s rooms, not hers.

Hoisting the canvas bag was significantly more cumbersome now. Dulce, on the small side, had to clumsily shuffle along with it in front of her, the straps digging into her wrists so it wouldn’t drag on the ground, the lantern wedged in at the top. Wrangling the secret door open and closed behind her was a feat, though a sense of relief came over her once it was closed and she was alone in the pitch black. There, it was done, she hadn’t done too much harm, and she was out.

Dulce was used to moving through the dark, but this dark was so total it made it hard to breathe. She should have lit the lamp before closing the door but her gut had said to hurry, that she was going to be late or caught. She dug the flint and steel from her pocket and made sure her back was to the paintings before she struck it. It took a few minutes of feeling around before she could send a spark in the right direction, and the whole time drawing steady, measured breaths to keep her mind from drifting away from her in this total void. She hadn’t known it was possible to drown in darkness.

The wick lit and her shoulders released.

As tempting as it was to leave the things right by the ivy door, she had to expect that the first thing the King would do was charge down the secret passageway to see if the thief had entered that way. Instead Taehyung had drawn her a map to get to a particular hidden spot in the caves where he would retrieve the paintings and from there supposedly take them to a secret and trustworthy painter who would make his copies. That was beyond Dulce’s job.

The map was difficult to follow in the dark with the lantern and the canvas bag and Taehyung’s unskilled linework. Several times she took wrong turns, felt it in her gut, and had to backtrack to make sure. The caves were a maze, and the first time she accidentally stepped into one of the massive caverns gave her a scare like nothing ever did before. It felt like a death sentence to be down here alone. Trapped. By and large helpless. Weighed down with stolen goods. The dark creeping close behind.

She paused to let her body acclimate to the rush of fear and gazed up at the fake starry sky for what comfort it could give. It was beautiful, like nothing she had ever seen, somehow so like and yet so alien to the actual night sky. Personally she thought Paloma’s broad open blanket of night was even more beautiful but maybe that was because it reminded her of freedom and eternity all the time she had slept beneath it and this here was oppression. To never be able to leave this, to always amble through the dark for generations, to not even know you were missing the sun…

Hell might look like this. Dulce followed none of the minor religions that had taken root in Yeonhalbi and yet she thought hell might look just like this.

At last she felt certain she’d found the spot. Instead of wondering how much time Taehyung had spent here to notice and even map this spot, she quickly unburdened herself of the paintings, after fishing the jewels out of the bottom of the bag and shoving them into her pockets. The tiara wouldn’t fit and she held it awkwardly in her hands, not sure what to do about it.

Noise behind her made her dive for shelter behind the stones hiding the paintings, tiara clutched to her chest, preventing her from dragging out the blade instinct told her too. Likely just an animal, but still she waited, crouched, breath steady and quiet.

Footsteps padded closer, paused, then shuffled closer again, then another pause. She glimpsed a blue directional light bouncing off the wall against the yellow glow of her lantern and realized it was a person. Shit. She had hoped not to cross paths with any of the gamekeepers down here; she didn’t know how many there were or what habits they kept, but Taehyung said there were only a few and not to worry about it.

Well she was worrying about it now as she listened to the crunch of slow, careful footsteps. Obviously footsteps now. Inspecting the light she had foolishly relied on. She’d been caught, shit!

She fished the dagger out from her thigh, annoyed still that she’d lost the one Nasimiyu gave her, usually easier to grab from her boot. Then she crouched, waiting, ready to pounce if the person did indeed discover her.

The figure stopped. She could only make out the rounded shadow moving closer to her abandoned lantern. Nothing else was left out there, she was sure of it –but then why did the figure pause so long beside the lantern and crouch down? Damnit, she should have extinguished and hidden the lantern as soon as she had light to see by. These were the sort of mistakes that got you killed.

“It’s dangerous being in the caves alone,” the man said, a weak and aged voice that evaporated in the heavy atmosphere as soon as the words were spoken. “To get out from here, put your right hand on the wall and take every turn you meet, never take your hand off. May the gods have mercy on your soul.”

With that he ambled away, his blue light rocking with his steps. Dulce remained tucked away until she was sure he was gone and only then slid out from the cramped space. Gingerly she picked up the lantern and looked around for any sign of who it was or any evidence of what he might have been looking at. Was it just the lantern? There was nothing else she could see. He was gone, her lamp left where she’d set it.

May the gods have mercy on your soul. Was it a threat? A warning? Sympathy? Did he know who she was or what she’d done, or was this how he handled anyone who wandered into the caves? It had sounded like Master Boutros, the game master she had met in these caves on the hunt so many weeks ago, but she couldn’t say for sure. Maybe everyone sounded like that when you made them live in an underground cave.

She took the tiara and tossed it as far into the cavern as she could. It disappeared quickly over the lip of the cliff she didn’t go anywhere near; she’d turned her back before that and let her right hand lead her out, just like he had said. She had no reason to believe it wasn’t a trap except her own gut at this point. She let some of the jewelry fall from her pockets on the way. Not to the ivy door though, to a different one she learned as she stepped through it, this one further down the mountain path than they had gone for the hunt. Just how turned around had she been in there?

Aware she had been gone a long time and that her thieving may already have been discovered, Dulce hurried back up the path to the palace, slowing when she neared the yard so she could make sure no one was in view before sliding through the gate. Her heavy pockets tugged with every step so she held them down and continued her steady gait through the yard, into the palace, through quiet halls until she reached Nasimiyu’s room. If anyone saw her at this point, she didn’t care; her scowl likely put them off.

She only grabbed a parasol from Nasimiyu’s wardrobe so she’d have a reason to make her way to the Sunflower Festival and meet up with Nasimiyu, –or rather with Taehyung, who was supposed to make sure he was visible to all and easy to find. From Nasimiyu’s window she tossed several of the jewels into the bushes far below, then set off again. On the way she took a detour through the hallway that ran near Prince Seokjin’s room and let one of his mother’s rings fall from the window into his courtyard. A bracelet joined it from another window. It wouldn’t make any sense why a thief would drop the jewelry there, but obviously Seokjin wouldn’t have taken it. Confusing was ok. Better than making a mistake while trying too obviously to throw people off your scent.

There were only a few things still in her pockets now and for a moment she contemplated hiding them in Mirta’s bed. But no, Dulce wasn’t someone who sought petty revenge on her own account. Instead she took a walk through the Queen’s garden to reach the front of the palace, and along the way pressed a ring and a bracelet into the dirt beneath a sweet statue of a little dancing girl.

The empty pockets should have left her feeling light as she set off for the Sunflower Fest, but she still felt weighed down. She’d tried to not take anything too sentimental looking but what did she know? No way was that tiara ever getting found. Once the things in Seokjin’s courtyard were found they’d probably scour the palace and find some of it but maybe not the things in the cave, which Master Boutros would probably find and thrift. Who would think to look under the statue in the garden?

Shit, what was wrong with her though? As if the royal family actually needed so many jewels, or specific jewels. How fortunate was it to own things at all? She’d barely made a dent in the queen’s rooms. There was so much there, if she hadn’t made a mess they might not have even noticed anything but the paintings were gone. If all of this was in service of Taehyung getting the painting of his mother, then so be it. The King and Prince could cry into their remaining riches.

The strong scent of wilting sunflowers had snuck up on her, the noise of the festive town kept back by her thoughts until she reached the main road and its bright yellow glow. She paused to stare up at an arch made completely of flowers reaching far over her head. Probably it had been beautiful hours ago but now the leaves were curling, the petals starting to tumble from the heavy, sagging stalks.

People crowded the main roads so densely it was difficult to move through, their feet trampling any flower that broke free from where they’d been tied to every surface, strung up rootless for the spectacle. So many of them it almost hurt to look at, second only in awe to actually walking through a field of living, growing sunflowers. Actually, pushing her way through people was not that different than stalks, trying not to trip on the children who darted past like energetic rabbits, avoiding the bumps and tugs of folks nudging past on their way to food or music or spectacles. A man juggled flaming torches, one of which landed too far and crushed a statue of flowers, impossible to tell what it had been, while the crowd shouted and laughed. Musicians tried to get a group to dance but there wasn’t space. A baby in her mother’s arms reached out a hand and poked delicately at the center of a flower, enraptured until a man jumped around it and shouted to scare the child, who promptly burst into tears while her mother scolded the man.

But Dulce couldn’t appreciate these little moments because it was too busy, too crowded, and she had somewhere to be. She wound her way through the maze of townsfolk, following the main roads as she suspected Nasimiyu would. She kept her eyes peeled for Nasimiyu’s tall dark head, or the uniformed guards, or a wave of people who might be circling around the King. Would Naimiyu and Prince Seokjin stay near his father or wander off on their own? Taehyung had promised to be near Nasimiyu and Nasimiyu would be…

Dulce had no idea. She’d never been to this sort of thing with Nasimiyu. She didn’t know what Nasimiyu would be drawn to. Nothing, was her guess.

So where would the Prince go? Food. But food was everywhere. Maybe music, which he seemed to like even though he claimed not to like dancing. But music was everywhere too. It seemed to usher forth from the flowers themselves, there was so much of it. Everything was so loud and bright and everyone was so happy and Dulce wondered if she had always been different or if life had made her different, to feel so incapable of joining this outpouring of community.

She moved away from the nearest knot of musicians. She wished she could find that cafe the Prince had shown her and hide in there but they were in the wrong part of town. Her stomach rumbled at the scent of delicious food but there wasn’t time. She needed to tell Taehyung the job was done so she could wash her hands of this and forget she’d been involved at all. Maybe she’d bum some coins off him and get something to eat.

A curtain of sunflowers swung across the walkway and somehow not been torn down yet. She walked through to see the fountain too overflowed with them, and children crowded around poking at them –except for a young woman who sat on the edge, and a man knelt before her, asking a question that made her shriek and throw her arms around him, and someone nearby grabbed a flower and ripped the petals off and made them rain down on the couples’ heads as they kissed.

Dulce couldn’t decide if the Festival was tragic or beautiful. Part of her envied the folks who could afford to bring whatever they wanted in the world right to their doorstep, and part of her despised the ruin of something when the flowers could have been left where they were instead of brought here to die, and part of her didn’t care at all. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered –flowers or jewels or tiaras or nice dresses. All these people who would enjoy the fair today and then back to lives of lonely drudgery tomorrow. The food they would eat and shit out, the beer they’d vomit up, whatever cheap goods they were scammed into buying. At best the children would remember the day as magical and then someday find themselves chasing an impossible joy before confronting the reality that it was only the glow of childhood that had made reality seem so lovely.

She didn’t regret that this was not something she could connect with, that’s just how it was.

On a whim she reached for the chain of her locket. The locket was the stupidest, most sentimental thing about her. She’d nearly tossed it many times to prove a point, only to keep it after all. It was a weakness, finding comfort in rubbing her thumb over the embossed face, she knew that. She would never risk her life over a piece of jewelry, and yet she still had it–

Had.

It was gone.

“Nothing matters,” she quickly, defensively reminded herself. A woman’s scream interrupted her, timed in such a way she thought it was in her head. Still, she instinctively spun as people suddenly bolted, and in the cleared space not two yards away, she watched a man leave his knife in Seokjin’s chest.

It hadn’t occurred to Seokjin until just now what a terrible meeting place the fountain was. It was right there, right in the middle of everything, and everyone was watching him, every step he took. He’d noticed it the second they walked through the sunflower arch, him with his bride-to-be on his arm. He knew the people would be curious about their future queen, but he hadn’t expected them to stare at him so much. He was just the same ol’! Did they think he was undergoing a transformation now that he had a fiance and was only weeks away from being a husband?

August now. November 1st they would marry and the woman loosely holding his arm would become his wife for the rest of his life.

Seokjin turned his attention to thinking about what food he might like to eat today. The smells flooded his senses, leading him by the nose along the street. He wanted to see all his options and choose carefully; he also wanted to buy everything that appealed to him and eat until he had to be rolled home, like he hadn’t since he was a child.

It would not endear him to Nasimiyu, that was for sure. He didn’t think she’d eaten a single thing since they arrived, certainly none of the things he had offered. It almost left him glad that Namjoon was hungry and eager to trawl the food vendors, just so he wouldn’t do it alone. Not that he minded being alone, but sometimes it was fun to do something not alone, even if just to discuss whether that peppered fruit had been spicy or if the chicken skewers were too chewy or if the takoyaki had too strong a flavor. Not that he really cared whether Namjoon enjoyed the food or not but it was something. Dulce would have understood and appreciated the food, he was sure of it. He didn’t think she would agree with him on everything but it would have been fun to learn. He wished he knew her well enough to predict.

Was he just going to think things like that now and pretend like it was normal? Maybe. He didn’t feel in the mood to be scolded right now.

��Do you want to wander that way?” Nasimiyu asked. She didn’t want to sit still for any of the shows or eat any of the food and yet she seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself and he couldn’t figure out why. He couldn’t decide whether to take it at face value or accept it was faked and play along.

But Seokjin couldn’t wander that way because he needed to meet with “K.” She hadn’t given him a time, only told him to meet her by the clock tower, which loomed down over him now from the nearest corner of the square. He also didn’t know what “K” looked like, only that she was someone who had known his brother closely –close enough to know that Seok-ho had broken a vase when they were children for which Seokjin had been blamed. Not just any vase, but one their father’s mother had made with her own hands. The men in their family were nothing if not sentimental. Seok-ho had let him take the blame, and though he didn’t make a habit of that sort of thing it had always lingered with Seokjin, that early lesson that his blessed, beloved brother could be selfish too.

He glanced around, expecting someone to approach, but probably K realized the difficulty as well, that it would be impossible to get him alone for any sort of private conversation.

Nasimiyu still eyed him expectantly and he felt he had no choice to nod and follow. Lidmila and Mindeulle wound around them and though he reached for Nasimiyu’s hand, she didn’t seem to notice and strode ahead, confident he would follow. It was nice to see her forming such good friendships with the other women, even if it felt strange to see her so close with Mindeulle. He wouldn’t have expected that. But hey, great! Wonderful. Probably Nasimiyu would want Mindeulle to stay and Namjoon would use it as an excuse to stay and Seokjin would never be rid of him.

He watched her duck under a curtain of sunflowers to follow Nasimiyu and was struck by the realization that any special fondness he’d ever held for Mindeulle had settled so peacefully into brotherly affection that it was hard to recall if any actually had existed or if his father had only put that thought there. He wouldn’t have even called it a crush, but whatever it was, it was snuffed out entirely; at most maybe it had been a distant affection of childhood. Had Nasimiyu entering his life really taken over his senses so profoundly?

Music suddenly struck up behind him, making him startle and spin. Marks and Jungkook were close on either side and remained stoic but Jimin grinned and Seokjin pretended not to know why. There was something familiar about the band though, and it took him a moment and a few steps forward to recognize them. It was the band that had played for the wedding he and Dulce wandered through that day in the city, when he’d almost asked her to dance, he was sure of it. It amused him to think about what she would have done if he had. Her agreement at the ball had surprised him, so maybe she would have surprised him that day too, but he thought it more likely she would have stared at him with those wide dark eyes –the same color as the center of a sunflower. Or maybe it was more like her hair, with that hint of reddish glow.

No wonder it felt like she was everywhere today despite being nowhere. If she’d come to the festival at all, he sure hadn’t seen her. Nasimiyu had brought other attendants. He’d seen Yoongi drinking a beer earlier and Taehyung was lurking nearby, pretending not to be visible, but since Dulce wasn’t with either of them, he thought that meant she hadn’t come. Or she was avoiding him. Probably it was for the best either way.

“Why are you grinning like that?” Jimin asked, sidling up to him. “Is the scent of the flowers going to your head?” He reached up to fix Seokjin’s collar and the braided trim looping from his shoulders. Wouldn’t it be a lot more fun here if he hadn’t needed to dress up? But Hoseok and Jimin insisted, and Nasimiyu would have been disappointed if he’d stepped out with her for the first time in a vest with no jacket. Still, he was just waiting for someone to spill something on his white trousers.

“Hmm yes, it’s that,” Seokjin joked, wafting the air towards his nose only to playfully cough. “Yes, still smells like Priva under there.”

“Did you mean to let the Princess leave you behind?”

“Ah, no… oops,” Seokjin admitted.

Jimin circled him, as if checking that nothing else was amiss with his outfit or maybe enjoying the clear ring of space the bodyguards maintained for him.

“You seem distracted today. What’s got into your head?” Jimin pressed.

“What do you mean? It’s the Sunflower Festival! Which means there’s absolutely nothing going on up there,” Seokjin assured him. He couldn’t understand why Jimin eyed him so suspiciously, even leaned close to peer into his face.

“You didn’t sit up all night reading, did you?” Jimin guessed.

Seokjin laughed –guiltily, truth be told– and cried, “What do you scold me, is that your place? Where’s Hoseok or Master Jung, that’s their job, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know where he is so I’m taking it over today. Where do you want to go now? Chin up, shoulders back, look your best.”

“Don’t speak so familiarly to me in public,” Seokjin teased. “People will think I’m a lenient prince. Where’s my fiance? Take me to her now!”

To Seokjin’s confusion, Jimin paused for a moment and looked at him in a way that felt pointed, or curious, or suspicious. Something that wasn’t the normal way Jimin would look at him and it made Seokjin self conscious. He wiped at his face in case there was something there but felt nothing.

“Is that what you’re worried about? I don’t know, you don’t tell me what you’re thinking these days, so how can I serve you? All right, I will take you to your princess,” Jimin said, suddenly animated again. He turned towards the curtain through which Nasimiyu had passed now some time ago and Seokjin took a step after him.

“Excuse me, do you want your fortune read?”

The voice reached him across the space and general noise of the festival, cut right through as if his ear marked it familiar, though it wasn’t. Seokjin turned to see the woman who had approached to address him, though no closer than Marks would allow.

“Your fortune read, Your Royal Highness?” The woman looked vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite recall where he’d seen her before. Her long face was pretty, though her dress was simple, her dark blond hair pulled back in a low ponytail. She reached up to touch her face and then tugged at the neckline of her shirt, where a heavy ring hung on a string, her only adornment. A moment longer than he would have admitted it, he realized the ring was a signet ring –his brothers, most likely, and that this woman might be, must be “K.”

“You’re a fortune teller?” he asked, wondering if that was true. He worried now he might be falling prey to a scam, or maybe this woman believed in whatever warning she read from the cards he didn’t believe in– but how had she got his brother’s ring?

“I have my tent only here,” she said and motioned behind her. It was almost a tent. Barely one. A couple heavy dark curtains were tied up, creating a small private space right beside a bustling side street.

Seokjin could feel the distrust rolling off Marks as the bodyguard nudged her back and tried to move Seokjin along, but he simply stepped around the bodyguard and agreed, “Yes, let’s see what my palm has to say.”

“Wha–” Jimin began but Seokjin ignored him and reached for the tent. He could see Marks thought this was absurd but he had no right to tell Seokjin no, and only motioned for the woman to wait as he stepped into the tent first, clearly with intention to stay.

“I’ll get my fortune told alone,” Seokjin announced. “You can all wait outside.”

“But Your Highness–”

“But Ser–”

“Do you think she’s going to slip poison into my mouth from across the table?” Seokjin demanded, gesturing to her as she waited at the opening.

“It’s not safe for you to be out of sight and alone,” Marks insisted.

Seokjin knew he was wasting time and decided, “Fine, Jungkook can come in with me. I guess I’ll be less embarrassed for him to hear if I’ve got a rotten fortune.” Anyone could have seen Jimin was hurt by this exclusion, so Seokjin pointed out, “It’s too small and Jungkook’s the bodyguard. I’ll tell you anything juicy over snacks tonight.” He didn’t wait for an answer but slid through the opening of the sheets after Marks had stepped out and Jungkook in. The woman came in last and tugged the curtain closed, then sat on one of two stools in the cramped space. There was a small table, but no cards or anything, only a single candle that put off an outrageous amount of heat as it burned low.

By it Seokjin saw her glancing warily at Jungkook, so he started in a quiet voice, “Are you K? You may speak freely in front of him, he’s both a bodyguard and a trusted friend.”

“I… if you say so…”

Jungkook’s brow scrunched in confusion and he opened his mouth to ask something but Seokjin tapped his lips with his finger and Jungkook stayed his tongue.

“We won’t have much time without seeming suspicious,” Seokjin told her, sitting on the stool and leaning close. He was already beginning to sweat in the trapped heat. The drapes did an eerily good job of muting both light and sound from outside but for all he knew Marks and Jimin were listening close and while he trusted at least Jimin, it was clear the woman was nervous.

Suddenly it struck him where he’d seen her before and he asked, “How are your children?”

“Oh. You do remember me?”

“Yes, it was you with your sons. Is he all right, the one who was hurt?”

“Yes, he’s all right. They’re with my mother right now.”

“So you can work? You’re a… fortune teller?”

“I’m not actually. Is this really so convincing? It’s the only way I could think to get time to speak with you.”

Impressed, Seokjin studied her concerned expression and asked, “What is it you want to talk to me about? Is that why you came to court that day? And why do you have my brother’s ring? Who were you to my brother?”

“His wife,” she breathed out, the word so airy and impossible that Seokjin thought he must have misheard.

“Pardon?”

“I am the wife of Seok-ho,” she said again, a little clearer.

“Um…”

“And those children you saw are his,” she added.

“That’s not possible,” Seokjin said as he racked his mind to see if it could be.

“I wish I had time to tell you everything, to tell you our entire love story,” she said. “It distressed him not to tell you but of course, I was secret. It wasn’t you he didn’t trust but everyone else.”

“How could he have a secret wife and children?” Seokjin argued. “It’s not possible.”

“We met here in the city. He used to visit the tavern I worked in–”

“My brother didn’t visit taverns.”

“He did,” she insisted. “In secret. I didn’t know who he was, he was always dressed as a commoner –handsome though. So very handsome.” Seokjin couldn’t say anything. It was impossible. It didn’t sound like his brother at all. “We fell in love. He bought us a house outside the city we met at sometimes, other times we stole time together in secret here. We married and I had our children and then… then he went on a military campaign he never returned from.”

Seokjin didn’t hide the confusion from his face. How else should he look when meeting a woman who insisted that his brother the royal prince had led a secret double life?!

She tugged the string over her head and handed him the ring.

“He gave me this and told me that if anything ever happened to him, I could contact you if I felt in trouble. He was certain you would understand and help his wife and children.”

“Yes of course I would but…” Seokjin looked at her, looked for any hint in her face she was crazy or lying. But she looked sincere, and the ring was real, and her story, as outlandish as it was… well, there was a flicker of belief among the doubt. He had always suspected his brother had a secret affair but he’d been thinking penpal, not commoner wife in the country. “But what did he think was going to happen? What did you think? He was going to have to marry as king.”

“I don’t know, to be honest. It’s not that I liked the secret life but a barmaid can’t become a queen and he was afraid for my safety if I was known. Your father never would have let him marry me. Sometimes he thought he would run away with me but he didn’t want to leave the crown to you.”

“Astonishing faith in me.”

“I meant– he said because you didn’t want it, and he wanted to protect you from the expectations and let you be free,” she corrected. “I didn’t explain it well. I don’t come from money or nobility or education or anything like that. But I loved your brother with everything I had, and he loved me back. I knew it every day, whether we were together or not. I would have lived my entire life his secret if I had to. We both knew something might have to change as the boys got older. My older one looks so much like him but he died before anyone could notice.”

Did he? Seokjin couldn’t remember at all, he hadn’t been paying attention except to the injured one. He certainly hadn’t been looking for traces of his brother.

“Why did you come to court if you wanted to stay hidden?”

“Your father knows about me,” she said. “And the boys. I don’t know how, but Seok-ho was certain and after that day in court, I’m positive as well. I think he even recognized me before I spoke. His whole face changed when he saw me and then my elder son. It wasn’t until my younger wandered up to the throne that he… well.”

“He’s sentimental about the chair that belonged to my mother.”

“I understand but you see, the reason I risked it, I had sent him a letter and I wasn’t sure he received it, or if he dismissed it. I think my life and that of my children is in danger.”

Seokjin didn’t dance around the truth and admitted, “If anyone knows about you, that’s probably true.” He paused, then added, “Technically your sons are in line ahead of me for the throne.”

“I don’t want that for them. That’s not why I sent you or your father notes,” she insisted. “The complete opposite. I just want to go far away and raise them in safety.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Money,” she said. “That’s the simple truth. Seok-ho meant to leave us with everything we would ever need, but the account he set up for me was suddenly empty one day and the bank wouldn’t tell me why. I wanted to know if your father emptied it. I can only think of a few people who would have the authority.”

“Who besides my father? We can’t just demand a bank account be turned over to us,” Seokjin argued. “And besides I don’t know why my father would do that.”

“I sent him a letter… I told you that. I’m sorry, I’m so nervous,” she admitted and only now did he realize her hands were trembling on the table. He reached forward and covered one with his own. Did he believe her or not? He didn’t want to. He wanted to remain suspicious. And yet he found himself believing her more with each word she spoke. If he accepted that he hadn’t known his brother very well at all –which was honestly, very true– then maybe this all sounded exactly like something his brother could and would pull off. It was why he would have made a good king. He knew what he wanted and made it happen. He couldn’t be swayed or coerced. He could do the impossible.

“I understand but you’re the safest you’ve ever been right now,” he found himself reassuring her. “Nothing gets past Jungkook.” The space was so cramped, it was more true than ever; Jungkook was practically resting on his back, hanging on to every word is disbelief, no doubt.

“Good. That’s good, that’s very good because I think you’re in danger too– sorry, I should say first, I don’t think Seok-ho’s death was an accident.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t, he was the king’s son in a war.”

“No, I mean– I mean I think he wasn’t killed in the battle, I think he was killed because of what he saw,” she said.

Seokjin was so heated by this point he thought he might faint but kept his hand on hers and asked, “What did he see?”

“I don’t know except that it had something to do with your uncle. He sent me a letter within a letter and asked me to make sure it was delivered to your father. The letter to me only said not to read it and that your uncle needed to be held accountable, that he had seen things he wasn’t meant to see, and that if anything happened to him, it would be even more important the letter reach your father.”

What was in the letter?! The need to know was going to drive Seokjin crazy but unlike Dulce, this woman seemed to not read other people’s letters.

“You really don’t know what was in the letter?”

“I wish. I wish I did. I should have read it… I did what he asked and brought it to the palace and put it right into the hands of… I don’t know his name but he’s always by the king. Dark hair, big nose, always dressed very nicely–”

“Could be anyone,” Seokjin muttered.

“Maybe Master Jung,” Jungkook murmured and Seokjin thought that could be true.

“If so it would have reached my father, that’s as close as you could have got.”

“I should have insisted on handing it to your father myself but… but I was so afraid of him, and I didn’t know how to get to him anyway, and I was very tired with child… so many excuses now!”

“You did the best you could. You did what my brother asked,” Seokjin tried to comfort her. She pulled her hands away to brush her hair back, though it was all still in place.

“I waited for another letter but none ever came. I had our second son. Hoya never saw him. I learned he’d died alongside everyone else in the city when it was announced.” She covered her face and drew a deep breath, shoulders shuddering.

“Everything all right in here?” Jimin asked, head suddenly poking through the flap.

“Ah, my fate is so tragic, it’s moving her to tears!” Seokjin called back. “Leave us be, it’s a rather good story.”

Jimin sighed and let the flap closed, but Seokjin heard him mutter to Marks, “It’s too hot in there, he’s going to faint and you’ll have to carry him home.”

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin said. “I… I wish I had something better to say.”

“Your uncle did something and Seokho wanted your father to know and he died for it. But what can I do about it? If I’m found out, he’ll kill me and our children too.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook thoughtlessly said and Seokjin tried to subtly elbow him. He needed to be less wrapped up in this tale and more alert to any danger.

She didn’t seem to have heard him anyway and continued, “Maybe your father wants us gone too, I don’t know. These are his grandchildren but– is it true, what you said? That they could have a claim on the throne?”

“Yes.”

“We don’t want that! But it makes it more dangerous for them, doesn’t it? If someone thinks that’s what we want?”

From me, Seokjin almost pointed out. He was the one whose claim was threatened by their existence and she had come right to him. And yet he would never have risked even a hair on one of their heads over the throne. His brother must have known that, too. Seokjin felt embarrassed with pride that his brother would put so much confidence in him. If only Seok-ho had ever seemed to think so highly of him while he lived, their relationship could have been so different…

“It does and you can’t help that,” Seokjin assured her. “I can give you all the money you need to disappear. That’s easy. I can give you enough for your journey and send notes ahead to wait for you and I won’t tell anyone in the world where you are –only I will know. If you need more help you can send me a letter.”

“That’s… thank you. It feels wrong to ask…”

“It’s not wrong,” Seokjin said. “We’re family. As for what my brother saw and my uncle… my father…” He sighed and gave a sharp shake of his head. “I don’t know what to do about that.”

“Do you believe me?”

“That my uncle is doing something nefarious and killed my brother to cover it up? I don’t doubt it at all. I wish I knew more. The best I can do is ask my father but I’ll have to figure out how to do it without making him suspicious I’ve met you… I’ll figure it out,” he assured her, sounding more confident than he felt.

If his brother had been murdered by his uncle, there was justice to demand. But Seokjin had never been very demanding, and didn’t know how to start now. How was he supposed to investigate, or convince his father there was anything to investigate? Did his father really know about Seok-ho’s secret wife? If so, was he protecting her or ignoring or, or did he not know after all? Sentimental about his grandchildren or ignorant? He’d adored Seok-ho, surely he wouldn’t let his murder go if he had suspicions. His father and uncle disagreed politically all the time, but his father didn’t replace him which said a lot. He didn’t think his father would be involved in the same business but… but what did he know? Nothing. Seokjin Kim knew nothing about anything.

He handed the ring back to her and said, “Go to Paloma. Go to the biggest town in Paloma. Here, I’ll give you all the money I have –Jungkook, give me all your money.”

“What? Hyung,” Jungkook complained, forgetting himself and being familiar.

“Oh, no, it’s–” the woman tried, but Seokjin insisted, “Money is one thing neither of us is short on. Take this. If you tell me where you’re staying, I’ll send Jungkook with more and then you should set out right away, as soon as you can hire transport.”

“Paloma?”

“The biggest town,” Seokjin said again, because he did not actually know which one that was.

“And you’ll find out what happened to Seok-ho?” she asked, naked hope in her eyes. “It feels wrong for his death to be swept away like that. He wanted to fix something and… and I don’t even know if my letter got to your father.”

“I’m sure it did and he just didn’t know what to do about it or whether it was really my brother, but I’ll lend my doubts to Seok-ho’s and find out the truth,” Seokjin assured her. Realizing he hadn’t asked, he did so now, “What’s your name?”

“Kanna,” the woman answered.

“And my nephews?” The words sounded fake. He had nephews? He felt hungry for family in that moment, for more than just his depressed, eccentric father and cruel uncle and Taehyung who seemed to taunt death constantly so that Seokjin was afraid to love him too much.

“Masao and Yori.”

He repeated the names and wished there was a way to meet them. There wasn’t that he could see, not that wouldn’t endanger them and their mother. Seok-ho had loved this woman. His dead brother had trusted Seokjin to take care of them after he was gone, and that touched Seokjin deeply.

“Why did you wait so long to contact me?” Seokjin asked.

“I… I didn’t think you’d believe me. I didn’t want to risk our safety but it’s getting hard without the money, and I can’t sleep at night worrying that I failed Hoya. It’s just been weighing on my chest that he was murdered and I didn’t do anything.”

“There’s nothing else you can do,” Seokjin insisted. “Will you take on my uncle all by yourself? You’ve told me and now I’ll take care of it.”

“Maybe I’ve put you in danger by telling you, but maybe you’re already in danger. Your brother worried so much about you. He spoke about you all the time.”

“Flattering things, I’m sure,” Seokjin snorted.

“He said you were the most admirable and infuriating person he’d ever met,” she told him. “He said you were too good to be king, that only someone as selfish as him could handle it but that… that because he was selfish, he couldn’t give me up either… He spoke so unkindly of himself like that sometimes. He was so haunted by letting you take the blame for breaking that blue vase!” she laughed.

Seokjin found himself laughing too, “He told you about that.”

“He said if I told you about it, you would know I was telling you the truth because I’m the only one he ever admitted to that he broke the vase.”

Seokjin shook his head and sighed and blinked back the tears as he muttered, “Damn him.” His brother had loved him so much after all? Seokjin had known him so little after all. And now he was dead and they would never get to share their love stories or let their children run wild together at the Sunflower Fest or watch their wives… do whatever it was sisters-in-law did together, he didn’t actually know.

“Your Majesty,” Marks called from the flap and Seokjin understood he had lingered too long now.

He took Kanna’s hand to squeeze as they both stood and insisted, “I’ll send you the money later tonight and the bank notes will be waiting in Paloma. Promise me you’ll go quickly.”

“I will. I feel much better having told you, having met you. I’m sorry we couldn’t know each other more.”

There was nothing to do but agree with that, and then let Jungkook lead him out of the tent where Marks stood alert. Jimin had grown bored and wandered over to join Taehyung and flirt with some pretty girls, but they both came over as soon as Seokjin was clear of the tent. He felt like he’d sweat out a tenth of his body weight.

“You look…” Jimin trailed off and looked around for something to fan him with.

“You were getting your fortune read?” Taehyung asked. “I want mine read.”

“Not here you don’t. It didn’t exactly seem… legitimate,” Seokjin said quickly, as if he didn’t want Kanna to hear. “Good for a laugh but I’m not sure she actually knows what she’s talking about. I’m supposed to get stomped by a horse before the next full moon, so mind you keep those beasts away from me. Ah, there’s Nasimiyu,” he said as she strode back through the sunflower curtain with a determined look on her face, clearly looking for him.

“And Namjoon,” Jimin added as he made a beeline for them at the same time.

“Well I know which of those two I’d rather talk to,” Seokjin laughed. “Taehyung, go.” He used the moment of everyone shifting around to lean close to Jungkook and whisper, “Stay here for a moment and make sure no one bothers her.”

“You got it,” Jungkook said and took a step back as Nasimiyu reached him.

“Where were you? I thought you were right behind us,” she accused.

“I’m sorry, I got distracted. I’ll follow you anywhere now,” he promised. He did not point out she had left him behind some time ago. Had she only noticed?

“There was a little dancing monkey,” Mindeulle gushed, all giggles with Lidmila.

“Oh you saw the monkey?” Seokjin asked, before adding, “He’s here every year.”

“He was very polite,” Nasimiyu grinned. “Shook my hand.”

“You… like monkeys?”

“Yes, I like monkeys, if they’re clever or funny. Some of them are rather mischievous…”

Seokjin would never have expected this. It left him speechless, and unfortunately open to Namjoon successfully reaching them.

“Seokjin, your father is uh– I think he could use you right now,” Namjoon told him, leaning in but doing a poor job of lowering his voice.

Seokjin’s suspicion was immediate as he argued, “What could he possibly need me for? He doesn’t need me.”

“Just come on.” Namjoon beckoned. Seokjin knew exactly what his father would be up to today –running around like the most cheerful man on earth until he’d drunk enough for it to turn into longing for his dead wife, at which point he’d sink into despair and his guard would foist him away to the palace. No Seokjin needed. He felt no inclination to go now. He had a lot to think through. His was going to get indigestion.

But Nasimiyu followed Namjoon, which left Seokjin in the awkward position of having to follow as well. He did make one pitiful effort to distract her by pointing out a nearby shop with jewelry if she’d like him to buy her something nice instead of forging ahead to see whatever embarrassing thing his father might be doing. Not that Seokjin was embarrassed by his father in general, nor did he embarrass easily, but that was exactly it, that whatever his father was doing that Namjoon found so inappropriate Seokjin needed to rush to his side was in fact just the way his father was.

“He was right here…” Namjoon said, stopping short and looking around. They’d stopped beside a tavern that had set up tables and several beer kegs on the sidewalk to let the celebration spill over. Namjoon craned his neck looking around while Seokjin counted his blessings and turned to Nasimiyu to suggest they wander like she’d said. He had a lot of trying of things bouncing around his mind and it would be better to just walk dumbly beside her for a while until he could reconcile the fact that he had a sister-in-law and two nephews who he would never see again. That his brother had hidden this from him, but also known he could count on Seokjin when needed, without explanation.

“Oh there he is,” Nasimiyu said –or maybe it was actually Lidmila, but Seokjin wasn’t paying attention until Nasimiyu nudged his arm and Namjoon gestured for him to lead the way.

Confused, Seokjin pointed out, “He’s fine.” In fact his father the king seemed more than fine, one arm thrown out while he laughed around a deep mug of beer.

“He was on the verge of something just a minute ago,” Namjoon insisted.

“On the verge of what?” Nasimiyu pressed and Seokjin found himself fond with gratefulness that she was taking his side. Not that there were sides between him and Namjoon in this but kind of there were.

“He was waving his sword around and beer in the other, shouting about love and death,” Namjoon said. Seokjin was not sure he believed him. His father’s sword was safely tucked away in its scabbard, not even a hand on the pommel, and he seemed perfectly in control of his emotions.

Until he saw Seokjin and let out a shockingly cheerful shout, “Ah, my boy!” Maybe that was a little suspicious, for his father to be so openly cheered by the sight of him. “Let me tell you, my son could never hold his alcohol, but this boy can!” the king added to the folks nearest him around the kegs. Seokjin suppressed a sigh. Was he proud or backhanded? He shouldn’t be calling Seokjin this boy to the people he would rule someday.

“Let’s escort him home?” Nasimiyu suggested. “We can come back.”

Seokjin gave her a look. As if he could escort his father anywhere. What an absurd idea. King Donggun would go where he wanted, when he wanted.

“Seokjin, Namjoon, come drink with me,” he shouted. “Nasimiyu, will you drink? I will gather the ducklings just like your mother would have wanted. Mindeulle, who are you here with, my son and other ladies? Time you met someone…”

Mindeulle inhaled sharply enough that Seokjin did step forward, interrupting, “Father, what, you want a drink with me? I’ll drink you under the table, old man. Your men there will have to carry you home.”

“You brat, I’ve been drinking beer since before you were a tickle in my balls.”

“You should have stopped before you tickled, old man, I’ll unseat you,” Seokjin countered, and tried first to take the beer out of his father’s hand before simply accepting the one someone else handed him. He was trying to end this, not join the drink.

“What other ducklings have we got around here? Everyone’s mothers are dead, isn’t that a joke of the heavens? Why is that? It’s not right. Our worlds revolve around them even after death, but they would forget us. Little Lidmila, I see you hiding there, your mother is still alive,” he called. “And can drink with the best of them!”

Lidmila looked like she wanted to slip beneath a table and evaporate. She practically dove behind Nasimiyu.

“Stableboy, I see you. Have a drink on me!” the king called and Seokjin didn’t know if it was paternal, or taunting, or if he was so drunk he’d forgotten about his own progeny.

“Why do you want to drink with the children?” Seokjin asked. “Where are your own friends, father?”

“Damn them to hell, I don’t know. Sleeping late I should think, or hiding from me. What’s wrong with them on a day like this, eh? It’s beautiful, beautiful, your mother will love it,” he said.

Will.

“Yes, the flowers are beautiful,” Seokjin said and his father’s head lolled to the side and he grinned and sighed.

“They are. They are beautiful today. They’ll be gone by tomorrow. Their beauty never lasts.” He trailed off as he said it and for a moment Seokjin feared he was slipping into one of his stupors, which would make him nearly impossible to move home. Then he realized his father had forgotten himself and stared at Taehyung. Likely it wasn’t only the queen his father mourned today, but Seokjin wasn’t worried his father would let something like that slip. After all these years, King Donggun hadn’t drunkenly tattled on his own affair.

“They’d go running around together here, those girls,” King Donggun sighed. “Both of ‘em pretending to be commoners for the day. Sukdheep thought it was horrifying but she’d humor her, humor her anything. Are you as full of humor as your mother, Little Lidmila?”

“...Yes, sir?” Lidmila guessed, clearly not sure what to say.

“Where’s your mother today?” the king asked. “I was never as close to her… but I look around and everyone is gone but the two of us. Just me and the ducklings left. I’m the last one who should be left with all the baby birds. Two clumsy hands, I’ve got!” He waved the mug of beer and some sloshed over his hand and splashed onto Seokjin’s shoes and across the trousers of one of the king’s guards, who stepped back in surprise. “What’s wrong, afraid of a little beer, you coward?” King Donggun laughed and flung the rest of the beer directly onto the guard.

“Father, that’s rude even for you,” Seokjin scolded, trying not to sound shocked in case it just egged him on further. The guard stepped back, stoic but whole body stiff with obvious anger. Seokjin didn’t even know the man’s name, he must be on the newer side and maybe hadn’t understand what he was signing up for.

“Who do you think you are?” Donggun demanded, then suddenly softened as he looked at Seokjin and admitted, “You look so much like her, it makes me love and hate you.”

“Is that so?” Seokjin said. He’d meant to say something funny but his mind had betrayed him. He didn’t want to be near his father anymore, not today. His father was just drunk and vacillating between bitter and nostalgic. Seokjin and Nasimiyu didn’t need to be here to witness it. His father had taken care of himself for this long and didn’t need an loved-but-hated son tidying him up. Namjoon knew that by now, Seokjin didn’t see why he’d been fetched, unless Namjoon felt like Seokjin should be up for some emotional torment –not that this was much of anything. It barely registered. Hadn’t his father just said he loved him? That was nice.

“Her eyes were always laughing too but she was kinder about it,” Donggun said just as Seokjin began to turn, to lead Nasimiyu off to something more fun than this. The complaint made Seokjin hesitate –his father could be painfully, cleverly cruel when drunk, but his voice sounded almost hurt.

“Wha? I’m unkind? What can–” you possibly mean by that Seokjin had begun to say, turning back after all to demand his answer, just as a man slid into the space left by the guard who’d turned to dab the beer off his suit. Just as this man raised the knife.

It wasn’t that he thought about whether to act or not. Honestly, it was stupid of him, wasn’t it? How embarrassing, that despite nearly twenty-five years of training, Seokjin’s instinct was not to disarm or even attack the man. He did in fact grab the man’s wrist as he dove between his father and the assailant, but failed to shove the weapon safely away. Instead he noticed how surprised the man looked as the blade sank into Seokjin’s chest, sliding in his left side with little resistance until the blade scraped against bone. Seokjin didn’t know a blade could skewer a body that gently. He had never dreamed how obvious the scrape of blade against his bone would be.

Things happened very quickly but they felt slow to Seokjin. Someone screamed. Multiple people screamed. Someone knocked the assailant away and Seokjin looked down at the knife protruding from his body when there wasn’t supposed to be something sticking out of him like that. Someone grabbed his shoulders and spun him around and his father shouted at him,

“Are you stupid?!”

“I think so,” Seokjin mumbled as more people grabbed his arms, he wasn’t even sure who, but it felt like he was falling. Nasimiyu looked worried, that was nice. Where had Dulce come from? Had she always been here? He was falling –no, he was being eased back onto something. Someone reached for the blade, or their hand was close, and he shouted because everything in his body told him that something wasn’t supposed to be there and it burned but it would be worse if it wasn’t there anymore. He didn’t want anyone touching it. He didn’t want anyone touching him either but Jungkook’s face was over his and he could hear Jimin’s voice shouting for people to get back. At least he thought that’s what the urgency meant.

Seokjin shouted as it felt like he was thrown into the air but he was only lifted. The board was hard beneath him and didn’t let his body curl in around the pain the way he wanted to. Without meaning to he reached for the blade, maybe it needed to come out after all, but a hand grabbed his arm and pressed it down to his side.

“Don’t let him take it out.” He recognized Dulce’s voice, or maybe she’d said that before, everything was all out of order right now. It was Nasimiyu’s hand holding his arm down. Jimin held the other arm down. He didn’t like being held down like that and complained but no one seemed to care, or maybe he wasn’t quite saying words. It didn’t hurt the way he’d expected it to but it was impossible to breathe or move. Maybe that had more to do without everyone moving so quickly around him than the injury. It was just a small knife. Wasn’t it not a big deal? It went in so easily, it could come out so easily too.

“Hey, hey,” he called to any of them that would listen. It didn’t feel right to be lying on his back on a plank as Jungkook and Marks carried him. “Don’t you know I have an image to uphold? I’m not dead, let me walk!” Everyone was being way too serious and it scared him. Was it worse than he thought?

“Stay still,” Jimin scolded.

“At least carry me on your shoulders like a king, let me sit up.”

“Just be quiet right now, hyung,” Jungkook said. “You’ll be ok. You’ll be fine. Just let us get you all to safety. You won’t die.”

“Yah, why don’t you sound sure?” Seokjin laughed, then winced. He didn’t want the people around him to panic but damn. Something was wrong. It was suddenly so cold, and wasn’t that someone thought right before they died? What if the blade had gone right into his heart and he was bleeding out…

“Ok fine run faster, I’m tired from doing heroics,” he said, wincing as the board jostled.

“What?” Nasimiyu asked, then, “What did he say? He’s so quiet…” He appreciated that she sounded worried. She did, didn’t she? That was good, for his future wife to be worried about him when he got stabbed in the chest. But where was she? She wasn’t holding his arm anymore, Taehyung was, and Nasimiyu was gone, and Dulce was staring down into his face –no, it was sunflowers overhead as the board was loaded into the back of a wagon. So many people were shouting still and Seokjin only just realized it because it hadn’t stopped so he’d tuned it out.

He cried out as the wagon jolted into action, and beside him Jimin rubbed his hair and soothed, “It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. You can’t die yet so you won’t, everything will be fine.”

“I’m not going to die,” Seokjin agreed. “This doesn’t seem like a good day for dying. I just need to lay down for a while.”

“You’re already laying down. Seokjin? Seokjin?”

Nasimiyu couldn’t bear to be next to Seokjin in the wagon –not that his guards wanted her there anyway. His manservant Jimin practically bodied her away as the wagon began to roll, but when King Donggun called for a horse, she echoed his demand, and so the two rode in the dust of the wagon with half their guards mounted around them, half running alongside to shout people away from the path. It was panic and chaos, between the people who didn’t know what was happening except it was something terrible, Lidmila and Mindeulle who both fluttered around like trapped moths as she left them behind, even in her own heart that couldn’t believe what she had just seen and didn’t know what it meant. Seokjin couldn’t die yet. This wasn’t her doing. Neither of them were supposed to die until she was securely married, so who had done this?! He must be in so much pain.

She reached the palace yard and let the horses be taken control of and didn’t spare a second thought about it. They were slowly lowering Seokjin from the wagon to carry inside but he wasn’t making any noise and she didn’t know what that meant. If he’d been stabbed in the heart, he would already be dead. She couldn’t tell. Even though she saw the knife slide into him again each time she closed her eyes, she wasn’t sure where it hit, and she found herself too afraid to draw close. Instead she looked around, trying to figure out who did this, and whether she was in danger too. She took steps towards Seokjin, then back towards the yard to look for Dulce, then towards the palace because Dulce would tell her to get somewhere safe, right? That’s what she should do. Where was safe when she didn’t know who had just attacked the King and Seokjin, or why, or if she was next?

“Go to your room,” a voice commanded, as clear to her ear as if it had been whispered there. She looked back as Dulce appeared on a horse behind Mindeulle, Lidmila and her mother on others, Namjoon as well. Apparently more houses could be found after all, and in a way Nasimiyu felt like the true guard had just rolled in. They were in the palace and these people would keep her safe.

Dulce slid from behind Mindeulle –what a place for Nasimiyu’s maid to ride! She wondered how that had come about but was too frazzled to ask. Instead she waited for Dulce to approach, and urge again,

“Go to your room with your guards in with you until we know what happened. Unless you already know?”

“I don’t know,” Nasimiyu insisted. “This wasn’t…”

“So go,” Dulce said again. They both watched as Lidmila’s mother went racing into the palace, where Seokjin and the King had already gone. Dulce looked like she planned to run after them.

Nasimiyu grabbed her arm, “Come with me too. Please.”

“I’ll come with you,” Lidmila said, leaping from her horse to Nasimiyu’s side in no more than three steps. Mindeulle and Namjoon were arguing in hushed whispers several yards away as the stablehands ran around shouting about whose fucking horses were these? As if that mattered right now.

“Yes, both of you,” Dulce agreed. “Go. I’ll find out what’s going on.”

“No, come with us,” Nasimiyu argued. “What if there’s someone…”

“There’s no one–” Dulce began but was cut off by a woman’s shriek from within the palace. It was not the direction the others had gone. Nasimiyu’s instinct was to jump back onto the horse and ride far away but Dulce dashed without hesitation in the direction of the scream. Mindeulle and Namjoon ran after Dulce, and Nasimiyu’s feet carried her after them without meaning to. Lidmila grabbed her arm to hold her back but Nasimiyu felt tethered to Dulce and Mindeulle and Namjoon; she took Lidmila’s hand and pulled her along, too. Nowhere was safe but these people she was following were probably the ones who could protect them best. Everything Dulce had taught her about self defense had left her mind.

It wasn’t clear who had shrieked, but the why would never be forgotten. Seokjin’s bodyguard –the young one, not Jungkook but the other young one whose name Nasimiyu didn’t know– hung by the neck from the balcony, his bloody body swaying at the end of a velvet sash. A piece of paper was pinned to his chest though no one could read it from below.

“Don’t cut him down!” Dulce shouted at the servants rushing around the balcony. “Pull him up gently.”

“She’s right! Don’t disturb anything that could be on his clothes!” Namjoon yelled. “Don’t do anything until I’m there!” To those close, he muttered, “For all we know they’re fucking in on it. Nobody can be trusted right now– All of you get to Nasimiyu’s room and stay there with the guards– Dulce, you go with them.”

“I need to–”

“You need to get your mistress and these ladies to safety,” Namjoon ordered. “I’ll deal with this. Go!”

“I’ll help,” Mindeulle offered her brother.

“No I can’t keep arguing with you, all of you go and hole up until we know who’s doing this.” He gave Mindeulle a rough shove towards Nasimiyu and set off at a run for the stairs, shouting again at the servants not to do anything until he was there.

Dulce looked furious, conflicted, but not afraid and Nasimiyu wanted to wrap around her. In the chaos, of course Dulce would be calm and sure of what to do. Nothing would get past Dulce. If Nasimiyu hadn’t sent Dulce away, maybe Dulce would have even stopped the blade before it got to Seokjin. Nasimiyu was sure of it.

“Dulce,” she called, reaching for her, accidentally bumping Lidmila, who had her hands over her eyes.

“Go to your room. I’ll be there after I see what’s happening with the prince.”

“But Namjoon said–”

“He doesn’t give me orders and neither do you. All three of you go now, I’ll be there soon, you know my knock.”

That order given, Dulce took off. If Mindeulle and Lidmila were shocked by this behavior between the two of them, they said nothing, just looked to Nasimiyu for the first step forward. Nasimiyu tried to pull herself together despite the sick feeling of helplessness.

“All right, both of you with me. Guards, follow close. We’ll set up a safe space in my room for now.” Her voice sounded shockingly stable as she led the way, fists balled to hide the shaking of her hands. This was no time to fall apart. Just because someone was hunting the royals and their guards for sport, didn’t mean she was next. She wasn’t part of this royal family. Yet.

Why the fuck wasn’t Dulce with her?

The palace was in chaos but they cut through it, not slowing their steps until all three women and several extra of Nasimiyu’s trusted guards and a couple of her maids were inside her room.

“Brace the door,” she ordered. “No matter what, don’t let those doors open until I say.”

“What do we do? My mother is out there!” Lidmila cried.

“I think she went to be with the King and Seokjin so she’ll be surrounded by guards. For now we… wait,” Nasimiyu said, looking around at those sheltering with her.

“For what?” the maid Bab whispered to Eula.

“Until I say so,” Nasimiyu said, loftily. Unwilling to say the real answer: For Dulce.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

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madamefeu · 6 months ago

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Hi! Here’s what your favorite Helluva Boss character says about you. Once again, don’t take this to heart, it’s just a bit of fun:

Blitzø: You relate a little too hard to Bojack Horseman. You've done a lot of bad things in your life that you bitterly regret, and even though you're trying to be a better person now, you can't escape the feeling that you'll never be able to outrun your past. Regardless of what you did in the past, all you can do is try to be better now, even if you've burned several bridges to a crisp.

Stolas: Sinister gay, life-ruining mean gay. The kind of mean gay who does the most toxic shit to you and then plays the victim when called out.

Stella: Got room for the Jax fans in your little, 'my favorite character got ruined even though they were like that from the start' club? Because you should definitely start making room if you haven’t already. They need it.

Octavia: Your childhood was completely destroyed by your parents' unhappy marriage and subsequent divorce. You can't talk to either of your parents without one of them complaining about the other, and you wish more than anything that you weren't born into a loveless marriage so that you could've had a stable and happy childhood.

Loona: Furry. Need I say more? Because of all of the characters you could've picked, you went for the emo Hellhound. You have a kinky AO3 history and you dream about being stepped on by a goth dommy mommy.

Moxxie: You cling to your significant other because your relationship with them is the only healthy relationship you've ever had in your life. Your family are the worst, and you don't have many friends, on account of the fact that you keep befriending complete and utter jackasses.

Millie: Look, I get it, you love your significant other, and that’s great, but it is ok to have a life outside of them. Get a hobby, or something, IDK.

Fizzarolli: Hurt/comfort is your all-time favorite trope, and you live for romances with happy endings. You dream of finding a rich and powerful man who loves you with all his heart, not because you're a gold-digger, but because you want a classic happy Disney princess ending, and though you haven't found the right man yet, you're certain that you will someday.

Asmodeus: Your significant other thinks that you're way out of their league (And let's face it, you are), despite your repeated attempts to assure them that you love them as they are. Your sex life would make the most hardcore AO3 writer blush like a schoolgirl, and you'd be proud of it.

Beelzebub: Hello, Ke$ha fans! Your favorite music genre is 2010s EDM, and your favorite drink is whatever gets you drunk the fastest. Many people have tried to beat you in a drinking contest, but few have succeeded, and they consider it a great honor, because you have an iron liver, and getting you drunk is no easy task. It's a miracle that you haven't died from alcohol poisoning yet.

Mammon: I know that you've thought about putting $20,000 in a blender, drinking it, and then bragging to everyone that in a few hours, you're going to piss away 20 grand. And for the love of all that is holy, DO NOT DO IT.

Verosika Mayday: You’re still bitter over that one shitty ex of yours, but instead of letting it get you down, you use it as a driving force to become the most successful that you can possibly be. You’re fueled by spite, and you want nothing more than to rub your fame and fortune in the faces of everyone who’s ever wronged you.

Glitz and Glam: You’re a K-pop stan. Like, the most hardcore K-pop stan out there. The kind of K-pop stan that makes other K-pop stans uncomfortable and writes real-person fanfiction about your favorites.

Striker: You have a serious thing for cowboys. I’m talking, Brokeback Mountain is your favorite film, kind of serious. You’re into the brooding, lone ranger type of cowboy.

Andrealphus: You saw him, and you screamed, ‘Elsa birb’. Which, to be fair, that does seem to be what he is. If he gets any songs in the show, you hope that they’ll hit as hard as Let It Go did.

#helluva boss #what your favorite says about you #blitzø #Loona #asmodeus #striker #Millie #moxxie #fizzarolli #mammon #beezlebub #helluva boss andrealphus #verosika mayday #glitz and glam #lol

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ladyloveandjustice · 10 months ago

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2023 Anime Overview: SHY and Migi & Dali

SHY

Premise: In a world where every country has a superhero, 14 year old Teru is Japan's. Her hero name is Shy, and that's exactly what she is-- she's a bit of shrinking violet at times and deals with social anxiety, which makes the public part of being a hero a struggle for her. But with a mysterious boy going around and turning people's hearts and pain against them to make them into dark, painful threats, she and the other heroes are going to have to step things up.

SHY is very much a magical girl show with am American-style-superhero coat of paint, and that's really what draws me to the series. Powers are based on your heart and emotions, the heroes friends and loved ones have their pain and despair manifest as terrible powers when induced by an outside force and then our heroes having to reach out to these people with love and compassion...it is so magical girl core. There's even a magical battle where mother and daughter must reach out to each other!

Also very distinctly magical girl-esque is how a lot of the series is focused on Teru and her cute girl bff having yuri undertones. Said friend calling out her name even activates Teru's "heart" and her powers truly awaken. IDK Teru that's pretty gay.

It does some things that are cool to see in a superhero show- like centering female characters and featuring a disabled superhero. This Anifem article also has an interesting take on one of the fights.

It's also not overly fanservicey so far either, though Teru mentions once that her leotard is skimpier than she's comfortable with (apparently magic assigns them their clothes) which sucks, (and it highlights her rear more than I'm comfortable at times considering her age). Let her have pants! But hey, after dealing with MHA's bullshit, I'll count my blessings that it's a regular leotard.

SHY is often a little silly-- the fact that apparently every country getting a superhero ended ALL WAR somehow is so ridic it wraps around to being endearing. It's also engages in some national stereotypes --for instance the Russian superhero who is Shy's mentor whole schtick being that she's always drunk (but you see it's okay because her alcoholism is based in her childhood love for her parent and she's fine and). There's a weird moment where an adult acts like she's going to kiss a teenager as a prank, and the pacing is a little uneven.

But when it hits, it really hits, and you really root for Teru. Seeing a superheroic take on struggling with social anxiety is fun, and Teru's passion and strength shines through. I'm excited to see more of her adventures, and fortunately a second season is confirmed!

Migi & Dali

Premise: Orphaned twins Migi and Dali perform an amazing con to get adopted by a couple (who mention preferring to adopt only one child)-- they decide to pretend to be only one person, a boy named Hitori, with one of them always just out of sight as school or at home. They go to absurd levels to keep this up because they have an important goal-- their mother was murdered in this town, and they're going to do all they can to find her killer. But what mysteries does this suburban town hold?

It's hard to put Migi & Dali into words, but I'll do my best. It starts out as an utterly absurd show that plays it's "spookiness" so ridiculously that it becomes comedy (Mother's Basement compared it to the potato chip scene from Death Note, and I think that's apt, though it's very much intentional with this show). Seeing the ridiculous lengths the twins go to in order to keep up their con is amazing. Situations like them assuming their foster mother must be scalping children because they don't understand what a wig is or one twin throwing on a wig on so the other twin (who should know what he looks like because he can LOOK IN THE MIRROR) doesn't recognize him are hilarious.

But then the show also becomes a tightly plotted and genuinely tense murder mystery that is incredibly moving at times? WHAT? All while keeping up it's signature brand of goofiness and absurdity! Side characters I did not expect to care about go through great development, Migi and Dali have some great character arcs, there's some genuine commentary on abuse, the damage you can do to children by forcing perfection on them, the struggle of being a foster kid, grief and recovery and more.

There are some things to warn for--parental abuse, rape through deception (def framed as bad, but yep. that happens), general harm to children, a very uncomfortable strip search of a child that involved ass-grabbing, and the weird bits where teen characters are kidnapped and forced to dress up and act like a baby (which turns out to be very thematically important and follows an interesting arc of being played partly for comedy at first then becoming deadly serious later) and of course the murder and stuff you'd expect from a murder mystery. (There's also some stuff involving infertility I think is fraught, but I can't really get into it without spoiling).

I know that's a huge list, but the show is definitely very rewarding--entertaining and full of more incredible twists and turns that one show has any right to be. Including the greatest housekeeper of all time, i would follow her into hell.

I can't get into more without spoiling, but yes, if you can handle this weird, wild ride, you should absolutely go on it. Sano Nami was a true talent.

#migi and dali #migi to dali #migi & dali #shy anime #shy teru #teru momijiyama #fall 2023 anime #my reviews #anime overview #anime

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smilingformoney · 11 months ago

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Rickmas 2023: Day 12. Giver of Gifts | Steven/Reader

AN: I thought twice about writing for Steven as he was a real person but I read that the real Steven said the character was nothing like him, so this is entirely based on the fictional character played by Alan and is nothing to do with the real Steven Spurrier or his real wife at all.

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

Being married to a world-renowned wine connoisseur wasn’t always as fun as it sounded. Of course, you loved being married to Steven, but as far as his status in the wine industry went, there were some downsides. Other people, mainly.

Some people - and these were the types to always order the cheapest white on the menu at any restaurant they went to - couldn’t fathom how Steven made a living out of his passion for wine. “I wish I could get paid for drinking wine!” they’d laugh, as if they were the first to make that joke. “Do you get free wine?” Yes, you’d say, sometimes he brought home a bottle or two of his favourites from whatever wine competition he’d been off judging. “What’s the difference between a £5 bottle and a £500 bottle?” Ask him, not me, and be prepared to listen to the answer for a long time.

And Christmas… well, your family and friends had their hearts in the right places. But when you sat down to open the presents under your tree on Christmas Day, you did sometimes wish for a bit more variety than endless bottles of wine as gifts - especially as the wines were usually generic supermarket-shelf bottles.

They were usually nice wines, and before meeting Steven you’d have loved to be given a year’s supply of free wine every Christmas. You liked Moët, and to the average person £50 was a lot for a bottle of wine. And at least Steven let you drink it - the higher the price of a bottle he brought home, the less likely it was he’d ever actually open it. His wine cellar was like a dragon’s cave, rows and rows of unopened fancy wines that were made to be drunk but he’d never dream of opening them because they were so fancy.

But there was more to Steven than just wine. And there was more to you than the wife of a man who loves wine. But whenever anyone thought of the Spurriers, they thought of wine, and so that was what you got.

And you couldn’t complain really - not since you’d actually bought him wine too. But you’d gone all out on this one. You were fortunate enough to earn a healthy amount of money in your own career, so although it stretched the budget a bit, it didn’t break the bank for you to buy him a £4,500 bottle of JS Terrantez.

Steven opened your present last, and his eyes lit up when he pulled the 200-year-old bottle from the bag you’d presented it in.

“[Y/n]!” he exclaimed with a gasp, turning over the bottle in his hand carefully, as if worried it might explode. “What on earth has gotten into you? You can’t give me this, it’s too much!”

“Don’t be silly, Steve,” you replied, nudging him. “I know how irritated you get at how many Barefoots and Echo Falls we get every year. I thought it was about time someone got you a good wine.”

“Good? This is the sixth most expensive wine in the world, [Y/n].”

“And it’s not even French, would you believe it?”

Steven rolled his eyes at you. His famous 1976 wine tasting had taken place years before you’d met, but you still liked to tease him about it.

“This is such a thoughtful gift, [Y/n]. Thank you.”

He kissed you on the cheek, and you blushed. He wasn’t the most affectionate man in the world, and you’d come to terms with that a long time ago - it just meant that when he did show affection, it meant all that much more to you.

“Can I open my present now?” you asked, eyeing up the one single gift under the tree that wasn’t in a wine bag.

“Alright, but I wish you’d opened it earlier, it pales in comparison to this.”

Steven carefully set aside the bottle to take down into the cellar later, and retrieved the last present from under the tree for you. You pulled back the wrapping paper to reveal a framed photo of the two of you from your wedding.

“Oh, Steve, I love it!” you exclaimed. You wrapped your arms around him, surprising him, and kissed him on the cheek.

“You do? I know we don’t have a lot of photos of us, so I thought it’d be nice to have something to put on the mantelpiece.”

“You mean other than the photos of you with important wine people?”

“Precisely. You’re far more important than any of them. But I feel bad now, it’s nothing compared to that Terrantez —”

“Well, I think it’s my favourite present this year. I’m going to put it right here on the mantel, and we can look at it while we drink these cheap wines and you tell me all about why they’re so terrible even though they taste fine.”

Steven smiled, your enthusiasm infectious, and he was grateful to have a wife so loving as you, who understood his passion - even if you didn’t quite understand the difference between a Merlot and a Shiraz.

#alan rickman #rickmas2023 #steven spurrier #bottle shock 2008 #steven x reader

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self-loving-vampire · 8 months ago

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One extreme incident that kind of serves as a representation of what I mean there is that time my father was drunk and yelling at my mother in the other room with his gun drawn while I was just playing Civilization and dissociating through it, but still wondering if he was finally going to kill us all the whole time. He's the one who taught me you should not draw your gun without intent to kill after all, and he has killed people before.

This happened in late August of 2013 too. I had stopped being entirely apathetic by that point and had an ongoing plan to escape to Canada just a couple of months after that incident, so it actually stressed me out a lot that he was escalating his outbursts to extremes like this. I was no longer indifferent to dying.

So I played after receiving some advice, which suggested letting my mother handle things and avoid further escalation. The advice fortunately worked out, but I couldn't really enjoy the game with what was going on right outside the door.

That is basically how life felt more generally. I tried to have whatever fun I could get, but with an insecure authoritarian with very little emotional control always nearby.

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bird-likes-to-fandom · 2 years ago

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rtc theme park idea

ofc there's the cyclone

karnak greets all the visitors and reads their fortunes as part of the admission process

the six all have rides themed to their songs + their favorite rides permanently fixed there

jane's coaster is called the Decapitator and the gift shop sells little headless dolls. The Decapitator is TERRIFYING and hurts people's necks.

Constance has a coaster called the Sugar Cloud (with a snack shack nearby called the Sugar Cloud Cafe) and has lots of loops and is generally really fun and a family favorite.

Noel's got a tavern called the Boozy Floozy Flashing Light Tavern (it's shortened by locals and regulars) and the tallest coaster in the with intricate painted circus/fair details on the cart called the Neverending Carnival. When you ride it you can see the whole park. People say getting off the Neverending Carnival makes them feel drunk.

Ricky's got a Zolar themed story-packed coaster like silver dollar city's Fire in the Hole and the gift shop sells comics about Zolar.

Mischa has one coaster that's a thrill ride that plays rap music while you wait in line, and another that plays Ukrainian folk music that is more of a scenic ride. (the guide on the coaster tells a story of two lovers tragically torn apart as they ride)

Ocean's coaster is a kiddie coaster called the Headline Maker. There's a theater in kiddieland that puts on the improv scenarios and teaches kids moral lessons.

#sometime's karnak will be in the middle of a fortune and a man in a rat costume will run up and attack the box #my friend bucket made an excellent comment about character acotrs around the park!!#actors**#there's a jane doe wandering around asking for her family #begging you to tell her who she is #but she's seen the least out of the others #and there are people playing the townsfolk of uranium (the parents and siblings and tammy edwards + her family #and the cut characters)#there's an ezra lamb who's asking people if they've seen his sister. he hands out flyers with her face on them #rtc #ride the cyclone #ocean o'connell rosenberg #noel gruber #mischa bachinski #ricky potts #rtc jane doe #jane doe rtc #constance blackwood #bird likes to chirp

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homosociallyyours · 3 months ago

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for the 'i wish you would write a fic where...' : ... Harry watches a live of the Arenal Sound Festival (where Louis said he hurt his toe and went on stage inebriated)(and went to barricade twice) and afterwards calls Louis, worried. your decision how angsty you wanna make it (if Louis just jokes about being clumsy while playing footie or if there's ~more) maybe Harry even decides to fly out for a short visit and they 'reunite' after weeks apart... (again, dealer's choice where/how far you wanna take it!)

😊 (of course no pressure tho!)

HELLOOOOO thank you!!!

I really love the idea of Harry being simultaneously 1) distracted by how hot Louis looks, 2) worried about him being injured, and 3) jealous of people touching all over him who aren't Harry here!!

Louis, however, is mostly oblivious to a lot of this. He had a good time, enjoyed himself, and really didn't hurt himself too badly, and though he sees a missed call from Harry between his post-show wind down with the band and going to bed, he doesn't think anything of it, really. They'll check in tomorrow.

Meanwhile, Harry has a few days with absolutely nothing scheduled and decides it's time for Louis to get a little TLC.

---

Louis could typically sleep like the dead on tour, but the incessant buzzing of his phone was particularly disruptive this morning and he couldn't figure out why. He slapped at the spot where he thought it should be, somewhere on his bedside, but instead of finding a hard surface he met was met with warm skin.

Instantly he paused, mind racing to recall everything that had happened before he fell asleep. He certainly hadn't been drunk enough to bring someone back for sex, he was sure of that. Peeling open his eyes, he turned his head to find a tanned thigh right there beside him. A familiar thigh.

"Harry?"

"Oh good, you're awake," Harry said, silencing the annoying buzzing which was apparently coming from his phone, not Louis'.

"What are you--"

Harry set his phone aside and stood, picking up a little bag from the floor. He was dressed in a ridiculous pair of stretchy white boxer briefs with a red cross over the front of them and a funny hat perched on his head.

"I heard you had some injuries, sir, and I've come to tend to them." He lifted the bag, the contents making a little noise as they bumped against each other.

Louis looked just behind Harry and saw a plate of snacks and a few bottles of water alongside the good arnica balm they used after heavy play. He had no idea what Harry had in store for him, but he was down for it.

"You'll have to be thorough, nurse," Louis said, wriggling beneath the duvet. His cock was already perking up. "Afraid I've not been taking the best care of myself lately."

---

Naughty times ensue!! And only a little angst near the end when Harry explains that whenever he watches people touching all over Louis he gets a little jealous and Louis accidentally laughs because as fun as he finds his time at the barricade, it's not directly sexual for him. Fortunately they both get that jealousy isn't really the most rational emotion, so it all works out.

hope you like that even though it's not quite what your ask was leaning toward, i think??

Send me a summary of a fic you wish I would write if you want!! (or just reblog the post for yourself)

#1d #canon fic #is very hard for me to write honestly #but it's a fun thing to try to do!!

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poisonousdelights · 1 month ago

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PARTIES: Isa (@poisonousdelights) and Kieran (@debauchfairy) TIME: The weekend before Kieran's birthday bash WHERE: The Mushroom Circle SUMMARY: Isa and Kieran play a different kind of drinking game that takes a slightly uncomfortable turn. WARNINGS: Drug tw, Drug manipulation tw (attempted)

Isa knew all the tricks for having a good night out. It was fortunate that she loved to dance and could do so without any of the liquid courage that a lot of people needed to shake their hips in front of a crowd because the girl was broke. But she’d learned over the past couple of years that it was very easy to get drunk without spending a dime. The aforementioned hip shaking helped so much. All she had to do was wiggle in front of a guy who thought he was going to get lucky and the alcohol came pouring in.

She didn’t know why but her favorite place was an Irish pub known as the circle. It wasn’t the best bar in the world by any means but she always seemed to have such a good time. The good attitudes were infectious, the regular staff always so friendly, and some even knew her by name at this point. She always made a point to have a chat with Zachary who sometimes joined her on the dance floor but that night she skipped out on the interaction in favor of her mission.

Isa was two drinks in, both bought for her by different guys who liked to watch her move. The second guy was still next to her as the last of her cocktail was drained, the girl twirling the straw while she looked up at him. Her hand dragged through her thick hair, running down to push the wavy strands behind her shoulder and bring attention to the skin that her low cut tank top showed. His eyes trailed down, blatantly appreciative, but before he could say anything Isa dismissed him with her next words. “That really hit the spot, I appreciate you so much. I think I’m just about ready to head back to the dance floor though. It was so nice meeting you.” The guy looked dejected but respected her enough to just nod curtly and walk away. A soft laugh left her lips, the girl shaking her head while she pushed the glass to the other side of the bar. “Too easy.”

—-

Somewhere overrun by fae wasn’t exactly Kieran’s ideal place for a night out but it came with some perks, perhaps the most important being a sense of safety. Aside from the rather strict ban on violence, The Mushroom Circle had a decent track record for keeping out wardens. Not that he was scared, anyone sensible would see the logic behind giving his nose more than a couple of weeks to heal before risking another blow to it. Not that Kieran was usually sensible but… well, he liked the shape of his nose. To a lesser extent, getting punched fucking sucked and he wanted to avoid it if possible.

Kieran wasn’t here to feed, not tonight, just looking for a distraction and some fun. The black, sheer shirt he had on was a lot but it had taken way too long for the last of the bruises to fade so it was about time he got to look good, even be a lot. Another perk, he didn’t even need to bother exerting his abilities, that part usually taken care of by some other faun. All he had to do was find the least boring people here and enjoy himself for the evening. A drink was a solid place to start and as he waited for the bartender, Kieran took notice of a pair a stone’s throw down the bar. He especially took notice of how completely out of the man’s league the woman was, and it seemed Kieran wasn’t the only one who knew it. She was playing him like a fiddle and might as well have had the poor guy on a leash with how obediently he tracked her movements. Impressive.

And then the blow. Kieran’s lips turned into a grin at her expert play, leaving no room for argument as he slunk off. Her laugh was the cherry on top - she wasn’t just doing this because she needed free drinks but because she enjoyed it. “You know, I thought the hair flip might have been a bit too much but he was all for it,” Kieran commented, closing the distance between them, amusement clear on his features. “Not that I know much about what works on the straights.”

—

Her body tensed at the voice, for a split second thinking it was another man trying to hit on her without Isa being clued in to their intentions beforehand. Jumpscare tactics were not her favorite. It usually indicated that the guy was too aggressive for her liking and things would go very poorly. But he soon rolled into the ‘straights’ comment and she could feel herself relaxing under his gaze. She playfully let out a relieved sigh, bringing her hand over her heart. “Next time warn a girl. I thought you were going in a completely different direction with that.”

A grin pulled at her lips, the girl shrugging as she went back to his previous comment. “Hair flipping gets them every time. Especially when you add in a little show of skin. Most of them are pretty simple creatures.” She didn’t feel right lumping every straight guy together but she’d never met one that didn’t enjoy that little move of hers, she would say that much. Though Isa did have the advantage with most of the locals thinking she was ‘dangerous’ or something. For some reason men loved to go for that so she wasn’t sure if the hair toss alone would work.

It didn’t matter, did it? “You probably think I’m an asshole, right?” Guilt was starting to tug at her, something that usually wasn’t a problem until she got caught. Even with the amusement on his face she still felt bad now that someone else had witnessed what she was doing. “It’s harmless. Most of their egos could use a little blow anyway.”

—-

It never failed to amuse, the very obvious shift in women once they realized they weren’t about to have the most annoying five minutes of their lives trying to fend off a straight man who couldn’t flirt to save his life. Kieran truly hoped this stranger would have gotten there on her own even without the blatant exposition and if she wouldn’t have, perhaps she was less intuitive than she seemed. “Please, you think a smarmy straight man has the ability to look this good?” Kieran huffed, finally garnering the bartender’s attention and ordering two tequila sunrises - her performance deserved a drink.

Humming appreciatively at her explanation, Kieran settled onto the bar stool next to her, intrigued enough to let this stranger be the entertaining company for now. He was curious as to whether she needed strangers to buy her drinks or, as in Kieran’s case when he just didn’t feel like paying for his own things, simply did it because she could. And a bonus, she wasn’t fae. “Simple or not, always fun to see them get played.”

Her attitude changed all of a sudden and Kieran arched an eyebrow, slightly disappointed by her question. Why the hell care what some stranger thought of you? Not that he did think she was an asshole. Manipulative, maybe, perhaps a bit self-centered but neither of those were necessarily negative traits in the faun’s eyes. If people didn’t want to get duped into buying drinks without a reward, they should be harder to manipulate. “Does it matter what I think?” Kieran asked instead of sharing his actual thoughts on whether or not a pretty, young woman was a bad person for cheating the system, so to speak. “And even if I did think you were an asshole, that would be an astounding display of hypocrisy since I am also very averse to buying my own drinks a lot of the time.”

Sliding one of the cocktails over to her as they arrived, Kieran raised his own with a wink. “To blowing egos.”

—

“You do have a very good point.” Isa nodded, looking his outfit up and down with a sheepish grin. He was right. No straight man would wear anything so daring or fabulous. “Ashamed that I ever thought for a second you were straight.” She laughed softly, turning back to the bar only to remember that her glass was now empty. Did she try to pay for one herself or did she go for a third gentleman? Well, that was a simple answer. She didn’t really have eight dollars to waste on a single beverage.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t judging her at all if the comment about how fun it was to see them get played was any indication. He then followed it up by stating he liked to play this game too and suddenly the lamia felt a million times better about it all. “I guess you have a point.” She was right before anyway, it was harmless and now she knew she wasn’t the only one who liked to do this. “So, you enjoy the game too, huh?”

Eyeing the drink that he slid over to her, Isa raised a brow but her smile never faltered. He didn’t like paying for his drinks but then went and bought her one? He must have really appreciated the little show. She raised the glass to mimic his movements before taking a sip, humming appreciatively. “This was nice of you, thank you.” Another sip and then she was backtracking on what he’d said, her eyes glinting with mischief. “So, wait, what works on gay men then? Obviously they don’t like my normal tricks…unless we count you.” Pointing down to the drink on the bar to make a point, her smile morphed into a smirk.

—---

Actually caring about other people’s opinions felt like a genuinely foreign concept to Kieran as he hadn’t taken stock in an opinion that didn’t align with his own since… well, maybe never. She seemed relieved to not be judged by the faun, maybe partly because of the sense of camaraderie but the worry had been there. Kieran thought his opinion and judgment was quite valuable, obviously, but she had no reason to know that and therefore care. Humans were strange. “I definitely have a point,” he insisted with a smile, relieved that there wasn’t a follow up discussion on morality and whatnot.

His smile only grew at her question even as he gave a coy shrug, his expression enough of an answer. Yes, Kieran did indeed enjoy this game and most games, for that matter. The ones he could win, anyway. As the tangy sweetness of the drink hit him, he physically waved off the notion of kindness - the drink was simply acknowledgement of a job well done - and with it, the thank you. A thought occurred to warn her, seeing how she was surrounded by fae and clearly not careful with her words but that discussion would replace their current one, which was a bad trade. She’d probably be fine.

“Trying to steal my moves, are you?” he teased, twirling the straw around the glass. “I could share but… that would make the fun little competition I wanted to propose a bit unfair.” Seeing as this bar was mostly crawling with fae, Kieran was expecting neither a meal nor company to bring home from here, which was fine. Monotony was the antithesis of everything Kieran stood for and he didn’t mind having to come up with new and creative ways to entertain himself.

—------

“Oh, I don’t need to steal moves. I have enough that work very nicely for myself.” Squeezing the straw of the drink between her teeth, she continued to smile up at him even as she was taken aback by the competition he had in mind. Not in a bad way. No, Isa was instantly curious as to what he would suggest for them even though she had a feeling about what was coming. She mostly wanted to know if there was a bet coming with this competition or if he thought their free drinks while playing was enough of a win. “A competition, huh? I think that could make for a fun time.”

It was no secret that she could be competitive. Camaraderie and sportsmanship had been her thing when she’d been playing basketball back in high school, she’d even gotten acknowledgements in the form of plaques that used to live on her parents walls, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try her best to win either. Isa could get really into things like this, something that was proven as she started to prepare already. Her jacket was coming off, the girl slinging it on the back of the chair next to her so she could get another leg up with the shirt underneath. Men loved a nice low cut top.

“Alright, what are the guidelines? I can’t break any rules, that would defeat the spirit of the game.” She’d always been a fair one too. “And do the two I’ve already gotten count or are you afraid you can’t catch up?” Isa bit the inside of her bottom lip to try and stifle a smirk, the lamia raising a brow in challenge. She didn’t care either way, she just wanted to goad him a little.

—-

Grinning, he finished off a bit more of the drink - couldn’t be holding one for the venture they were about to embark on - appreciating the attitude. “I don’t doubt it. Not as good as mine, I reckon but I’m sure they do,” Kieran taunted back playfully, seeing the glint in her eyes that matched his own at the prospect of a good (mostly honest) competition.

His look of amusement only widened as she shrugged off her jacket, proving that she knew her stuff as more skin was bared. Simple but effective. Along with the first inkling of fruity alcohol blanketing his senses, Kieran could sense her joyous excitement as it lingered between them. Feeding on her would put her at a disadvantage and he didn’t want to win by cheating. Not this time, at least, he liked her. “A drink gets bought without directly asking for it. Any sort of alcoholic beverage counts. Up to you whether you finish it or not before moving on. First to five takes the prize.” Not that there was a prize - they were playing for free drinks and the honor of it. “If you think you need the head start, you can have it,” Kieran goaded right back, smirking before finishing off the rest of his drink and dragging a hand through the previously stylized hair.

“Kieran,” he offered her as he stood up, waiting for her name in turn and then shrugging off his jacket. Even if he didn’t have the cleavage to work with like his new friend, the sleeveless top had perks of its own. “May the best seductress win.”

—-

“I can’t wait to prove you wrong.” Isa followed suit with her own drink, realizing it was a good idea to get it down. Not only did leaving it behind get dangerous but it also seemed rude when he had so kindly gotten it for her. She stood, pretending to shake out any nerves that might have set in with a grin, glad that she could be playful with him even as they were gearing up for a competition against each other. Those were the best interactions.

She stopped at his conditions, meeting his eyes with mock confusion. “What’s the point in having a drink given to you if you’re not going to finish it? I would like to make an amendment that everything needs to be finished as you talk to the person…within reason, of course.” She lifted her chin, trying to stifle the grin threatening to pull at her lips. “Fine, a fresh start it is.” Narrowing those playful eyes at him, Isa shook her head as he raked his hands through his hair. The man knew what he was doing. Bedhead looked good on him, not that he needed any help looking handsome.

“I’m Isa.” And he had muscles to boot. Hmm, maybe she should have seen the whole package before accepting this challenge but she wasn’t too worried about it. It just meant she had to up her game. “Oh, I will.” The lamia gave him a wink before she turned in search of her first target.

The prospects looked too easy. A man who was clearly getting over a break up if his sullen look and the way he twirled a ring around the bar was any indication. No, he would be a last resort. The over enthusiastic dancer in the middle of the floor trying to dance with whatever woman would give him the time of day. Too desperate for her taste. She liked a little challenge in her men, it made the victory that much sweeter. Finally, she settled on one who had a confident air to himself but had yet to go after any of the women he’d been eyeing. A little challenge but not enough to make it impossible. He was perfect.

And it only took five minutes before she had a drink set in front of her.

He was boring though and she was rushing her way through this first drink. Most of the talk was about him and how awesome his life was so Isa allowed her gaze to free roam around the bar. Her attention was caught by Kieran and his first…or maybe second target, her eyes landing on the way the man was crowding the other. It wasn’t too out of the ordinary but the way the stranger slipped something into Kieran’s drink when he was distracted was. Isa was out of her seat before her challenge could finish his sentence, his protest following her but she was too focused on getting to that table before Kieran could fall victim to something sinister. “Hey!” Her loud voice drew attention from most of the people in her path while she stormed over there, knocking the drink into the lap of the man who was now glaring up at her. “I saw that, you bastard. Do you always get your kicks drugging random people in bars or is he special?”

—-

With the terms of their little game decided, Kieran left his new friend behind with a wink. Isa had plenty of advantages, not just that straight men were generally easier to fool but also the fact of her not sharing his problem of being fae. Sure, not all of them shared Kieran’s extravagant dislike for his kin but they could be very peculiar and he didn’t feel like chatting up someone whose first question might be on what he was. Still, having way less targets to choose from than his ‘competition’ would only make the victory that much sweeter.

Finding a human - or at the very least, a non fae - luckily hadn’t taken too long. The flexibility of what constituted a drink also came in handy as he gladly split a tray of shots with the first target - price and volume-wise, four shots weren’t that far off from a full sized drink. As an added bonus, his theatrics with the shots (letting a person lick their own hand for the salt was just bad manners) had caught the attention of the second mark. Which was fine enough, he was far from Kieran’s type but for a drink and more importantly, a point, anything goes. If the guy took notice of the way Kieran was subtly scanning for his third drink of the night, he didn’t comment on it.

It seemed Isa had something to comment on, though. For the briefest of moments, Kieran wondered whether she was here to argue on whether shots counted but as she drew closer, it became clear she was much angrier than anything their game could incite. Which begged the question of why Kieran’s drink was paying the price of her wrath, an explanation arriving in the form of her berating the stranger with the now wet pants. Oh. Oh. The irony of trying to mess with a faun’s free will wasn’t lost on Kieran but Isa’s interference was welcome - his immunity to being influenced only applied to the effects of other fae, not whatever the stranger had tried to spike him with.

“The hell are you on about, you bitch?” the man argued, defensive as he wiped at the remnants of the drink. Kieran’s eyes narrowed and despite the unease that had settled in his chest, he had no trouble letting his influence wash over the bastard. Even the brief taste of the man’s euphoria tasted wrong and Kieran wanted this over with, quick.

“I think you want to apologize to her,” Kieran demanded, voice threatening despite the sickly sweet tone. “And then take whatever you put in my drink and have a taste of it yourself.” There were plenty of people watching, Isa’s reaction having drawn enough attention but the words were spoken low enough for only the three of them to hear. The man’s voice was far off when he apologized to Isa, the faintest glimmer of hesitation visible as he dropped something inconspicuous into his own drink and proceeded to down the whole thing.

—-

For a brief, anger fueled moment, Isa considered pulling her sunglasses down to let stone take over every inch of this creep but she stopped when she remembered that Kieran could get caught up in that as well. Not to mention the other bar patrons staring in their direction. She didn’t need any audience for her ability and had somehow managed to avoid that happening to this day. Besides, it wasn’t the first time she’d been called a bitch and it wouldn’t be the last, her anger mostly fueled by the man’s audacity in trying to get away with the sleaziest of moves he could.

But then she watched as the man’s anger seemed to melt into a look of pure…elation? Kieran’s words drifted over the chatter of the crowd to her, the lamia letting her bewildered gaze settle on her new friend when the asshole followed the instructions that had been given. What the hell had just happened? How could Kieran turn this around on the other so easily?

Who cared as long as the creep was subdued?

Isa felt her lips lift, the shock wearing down into amusement. Was it a little terrifying knowing he could have that control over someone, over her? Yea, it was, but if he hadn’t used it on her yet she was pretty sure he wasn’t going to. “That was a fun trick.” Her low voice mixed in with the music but it was enough for him to hear. She held a hand out for him to take, wanting to get him away from the shit stain next to him as quickly as possible even when he’d already taken care of it. “I think me and you have some things to talk about. Have you been cheating this whole time?”

—-

It wasn’t until the empty glass landed back on the table that Kieran detached himself from the man, the taste that wasn’t really a taste still managing to linger on the back of his tongue, stronger still than the aftertaste of tequila and salt. Turning his gaze away from the disoriented figure, he seemed to remember suddenly that he had company who had watched the whole thing transpire. Isa’s expression had just morphed from confusion to enjoyment and Kieran didn’t really care what she thought but he appreciated that she seemed to share his morals on this, too. Even if she didn’t understand it.

So he accepted the offered hand, not even wasting a glance back at the man still trying to get his bearings. The commotion that started around him did indicate that his antics might be getting him thrown out though, which was a relief. Maybe he’d think twice before attempting shit like that again - not that it was Kieran’s problem and he certainly wouldn’t be worrying about strangers.

Sure, maybe forcing the man to literally have a taste of his own medicine would prove some sort of deterrent but that hadn’t been why he’d done it. Just revenge, pure and simple. And Kieran certainly wasn’t drawing any parallels between himself and the creep because there was no need - he’d never used his abilities for that purpose. The unease from before was still present so he was more than grateful for the topic change Isa was providing, an easy smile sliding onto Kieran’s lips.

“I didn’t break any of our rules,” Kieran assured her, letting himself be led to a more quiet corner of the bar, at the same time wishing he had a drink in hand while also unsure he could stomach one with the taste of… wrong still in his mouth. “Where would be the fun in playing if I cheated, anyway?” His smile grew and it helped, distracted him, so he continued. “Alright then, ask away. Only fair that you get answers in return for your heroics.”

—-

She wouldn’t let go of his hand. At first, it was more subconscious than anything but as they sat down in a quieter area she still held on to it even after the realization. Despite his smile and the way he seemed to slip back into their teasing banter, Isa knew that something like that could shake the most sturdy of people out there and she wanted him to know that she was there. She wasn’t going anywhere so long as he wanted to still be in that bar. “I guess my first question is…are you okay?” She wouldn’t have been. She would still be trying to find a way to hurt that guy if it had happened to her and she was a little impressed that Kieran had shown some control in only making him drink what had been intended for her friend. “We can talk about it if you need to.”

Heroics. She frowned at that word, not liking that something that should be classified as human decency was called heroic. It was sad that they needed to watch each other's backs like this anyway but getting praised for the help felt wrong somehow. “It was what anyone would do, no need to reward me for it.” Something she hoped was true. Had others seen the man doing what he was doing and turned a blind eye? Because that was screwed up in so many ways.

Regardless, she did have other questions for him, Isa glad that he wasn’t refusing to answer even if the reason he was doing so wasn’t the easiest to swallow down. “So, you…have some sort of mind control? What are you, an X-men?” A dumb joke, the lamia realizing that she wasn’t sure how to go about the questioning. It wasn’t usually her asking the questions but the other way around. “How long have you been able to do that?” Someone had to curse him as well, right? “And why? What did you do to be cursed?”

—--

Well, that wasn’t the sort of questioning he’d been opening himself up for. “Why wouldn’t I be? You stepped in before I had a drink and he got what he deserved,” Kieran replied nonchalantly, letting his hand slip from Isa’s under the guise of readjusting his rings, a stray lock of hair, anything that needed fixing to complete this very believable picture of composure. He didn’t mind the physical contact, that was hardly ever something he shied from but the implication that he needed his hand held was simply inaccurate. Aside from wishing that maybe he’d done more to exact a just revenge, Kieran was fine and not plagued by thoughts or doubts of any kind.

For a woman who had jumped at the chance to play a game involving toying with other people, she seemed rather convinced that kindness was an inherent thing rather than selfishness. People, humans or otherwise, were self-serving at their very core. Not to say they couldn’t be kind if they chose to but rarely to their own detriment. Isa had nothing to lose from helping him, she was trying to form a new connection, something useful and that would have been hard to do if the creep had been left unchecked. “Think of it as evening the score, then,” Kieran insisted, unwilling to simply accept it as an ‘anyone would have helped’ kind of situation. And he could tell she was dying to ask her questions, anyway.

Huffing a laugh at her joke, Kieran leaned back with a raised eyebrow. “Oh no, you’re a geek?” he asked in mock disappointment, letting her ask the actual questions before providing any real answers, even if the part about being cursed gave him pause. “Not cursed,” he started slowly, brows furrowed in slight confusion. “Just born like this. Although it took a bit of time to refine the so called ‘mind control’. It’s more of a… power of suggestion type of deal. With quite a lot of power.”

—--

Isa bit into her bottom lip to refrain from saying anything stupid. Obviously Kieran didn’t want to talk about it and she would respect that but the concern was clear. She would still be there if he ever did. “Right, I’m just glad I saw it before you drank anything.” He was fidgeting with his appearance but she still stayed quiet, not sure if he was uncomfortable because of her asking when he really was okay or if he did need to talk but didn’t know how. “Do you want a drink? This ones on me and will not be out of my sight for a second.”

She still didn’t like what he was implying. She wasn’t the best person in the world, Ruth’s death proved that, and she could be selfish when it came to having fun but she never expected payment of any kind for keeping someone safe. Isa liked to think she learned something on top of that water tower six years ago…inside that prison for the years that she was behind bars…but his words made it feel like she couldn’t look out for someone else without expecting a transaction of some sort. It made her wonder if she’d learned anything at all. “If that’s what you want.” Because ultimately his feelings did matter here and she would do what made him comfortable no matter how conflicted she was about it.

Mouth opening to convey false shock, she raised a hand to her chest as if she were ‘clutching pearls’ as they say. “Um, that’s queen geek to you. I may read a few comic books here and there but I’m still cool enough to hang out with you, right?” Her hand fell slowly, confusion seeping back in. If he wasn’t cursed then he wasn’t a lamia like herself. She knew there were other things out there, she’d fought a giant ugly bird with a zombie after all, but she didn’t know what else there was. “Born, not cursed.” Which…could happen to lamia too but she’d already established that wasn’t what he was. “Not lamia but a…” She trailed off, allowing him to finish the sentence.

—--

It didn’t quite seem like Isa believed him, not that there was anything to believe except for the truth but she stopped pushing. Good. Kieran enjoyed her company, however briefly they’d known one another, but not enough for him to suffer through more questions about his emotional state. Her puppy dog gaze was pushing it, though. “You’re broke,” he answered simply, hoping the slightly clipped tone would be enough of a hint for her to drop the ‘caring friend’ act. It was entirely unnecessary.

Luckily, she seemed capable of leaving the doom and gloom of whatever she thought Kieran was supposed to be feeling behind, falling back into the joking atmosphere more fitting for two people who were basically strangers. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty and sly or the comic book thing would have been a real setback,” he told her with a wink. As Isa mulled his words, Kieran risked a glance over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of an eerily familiar face being led through a door to one of the backrooms. He’d heard stories of humans that got brought through there, most importantly that they rarely came back out. The smile on his face turned a touch more genuine as the attention turned back to Isa.

“Lamia?” he parrotted with a scoff of disbelief, shaking his head. If there were lamia out there capable of anything even remotely close to what Kieran could do then a certain shifter had been holding out on him, which he doubted was the case. The bit about curses was new information, though. “Why would you think lamia? No, I’m fae. Think less reptiles, more magical.” No reason to tell her about the deer part - this information was being provided on a need to know basis.

—-

“Ouch.” It was the truth but damn that had been blunt. Isa wasn’t hurt though, couldn’t be hurt by something that she’d come to terms with a long time ago. This was how her life was going to be as an ex con. Jobs were scarce and they used her record as an excuse to not pay her as much…not that Alistair ever did that but the ones before had. “I think I can afford ten dollars for a drink but fine. Nothing for you.” She lifted her chin, nose stuck in the air before he was moving on again, choosing to concentrate on the more playful topic.

Rolling her eyes at his words, she sat back in the booth, relinquishing any thoughts of taking his hand again. It was clear he didn’t want the comfort so she would fully let it go. “For some reason I feel like that’s high praise coming from you. I’ll take it.” Glancing his way, she noticed his gaze was elsewhere, but he was grinning like before. Turning her head, Isa just missed the door to the back room closing. Whatever it had been made him happy and that was good in her book.

Oh, was he offended by that? The few other lamia she had met were proud to be what they were so she couldn’t fathom him not declaring it just like they had. But apparently he was something else entirely. “What is fae? I don’t know what that is.” More magical? Isn’t that what her own ability was? Isn’t that what all lamia were due to a spell? “Sorry, I thought…” She knew what he was and despite not wanting to spread her own abilities around maybe she needed to explain why she was so confused. Fair was fair? She just couldn’t bring herself to say it was her specifically so she compromised. “I just know a lamia who…has a rare ability too. I thought maybe that was what was going on with you.”

—-----

Kieran gave a shrug - hurting her hadn’t been the purpose of the blunt statement, merely a casualty of the mission of getting her to back off. He wouldn’t apologize, worse things had obviously happened to Isa than someone pointing out her financial status and it was reassuring that she didn’t let a single (albeit slightly bitchy) comment get to her. Plus, he had started the night off by buying her a drink. “I’ll get someone I like less with more money to buy me one later,” he said offhandedly, even if he was still unsure another drink was on the menu for tonight. It wasn’t late but it also wasn’t so early that leaving now would be unusual. Maybe checking in on some familiar company tonight was the way to go.

But Isa could have his attention for a little while longer.

It wasn’t too much of a surprise when the word ‘fae’ made people blink dumbly at him, the secret keeping part of their culture quite a big one. Kieran didn’t take it as seriously as many others but it still didn’t benefit him to advertise it. “It’s fine,” he said with a wave of his hand, wondering if he even had the energy to explain fae lore. “Pretty broad subject. Didn’t really dress up like this to sit around teaching, though,” Kieran added with a halfhearted gesture at himself, humming a distracted sound of agreement at her words, the buzzing of his phone snatching his attention. The text was neither urgent nor very important but it was exactly the kind of familiar company he had let his mind wander to. Isa had her perks but he didn’t like the idea of feeding on her and since she couldn’t provide quite the same kind of distraction, Kieran jumped at the opportunity. “Ah, that’s my cue.” He managed to sound at least somewhat apologetic as he stood, offering her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind a rematch. On the off chance you win that one, maybe I answer a few more of your fae questions,” Kieran told her, ready to hurriedly follow the promise that text held before pausing, as if remembering something. “Oh, and this is a fae bar, just so you’re aware. So no saying thank you to anyone, sweetheart.”

#Threads #Thread: Kieran #Games People Play #drug tw #drug manipulation tw

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dailylesliec · 11 months ago

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[TRANSLATION] Leslie's Everything: Tell-All Interview

Upbringing

— First, please allow me to ask you about your upbringing. My family was a textbook example of a middle-class family in Hong Kong. My father was a famous tailor who made clothes for Marlon Brando, Alfred Hitchcock, and WD Hamilton among others, so he earned quite a lot of money for some time. Since my father had come from the Mainland quite recently, he was still distrustful towards Hong Kong in general, so he brought all the money he had earned back to Mainland China and saved it there. Unfortunately, in the Cultural Revolution, all his property was taken away.

— What was your father like? I don’t really recall much about my father because I never lived with my parents. They were busy with work and rented a place somewhere near Central, where they worked. All of us kids lived at our grandmother’s home.

— So would it be accurate to say that you were loved most by your grandmother growing up? Because my grandmother was already quite old, the person who took care of me was a nanny called “Luk Jeh” (lit: Sister Six)* . She was probably the person who understood me most when I was young. * T/N: “Jeh”, lit. sister, is a common term of endearment / politeness for an older woman you are friendly with in Chinese.

— What was “Luk Jeh” like? She’s the greatest woman I have ever had the fortune of knowing. She gave all her love without ever asking for anything in return. She treated everyone like that, but she was especially kind and loving towards me. Regrettably, I’ve never met any woman like her for the rest of my life.

— And her elderly years? After she got old, she lived alone in the house I bought her. She passed away in 1990 in her eighties.

— What’s your most vivid memory from your childhood? When I was six, my grandmother passed away. My grandmother already couldn’t move her feet a few years before her death, so she just sat on a chair the whole day. She would only return to her bed to sleep. When I arrived home that day, I found that she had passed away sitting on the chair. I still remember that scene like it was yesterday.

— What about your brothers and sisters? I was the youngest out of ten brothers and sisters. But two of my brothers (the third and ninth oldest) and one of my sisters (the fourth oldest) passed away when they were little, so there were really only seven of us. I have the same birthday as my deceased brother (the ninth oldest), so they all said that I was his reincarnation. However, even though I had a lot of siblings, the age gap between us was so big that we didn’t really play together. My father wasn’t the kind of man who liked having kids around and my mother was very busy, so I wasn’t very happy as a kid. If you asked me to recall some happy memories from my childhood, I wouldn’t have anything in mind.

— What were you like as a child? I was a bit odd. I wasn’t that childish - I didn’t speak a lot and I was never noticed by the people around me. My family wasn’t especially large, but when we had guests they never noticed my existence. I’m not sure whether I was just born this way. I was very alone and never had anyone to confide in, so maybe that unknowingly shaped my personality.

— Didn’t you play with the kids next door? My parents were very strict. My parents banned me from playing the fun things that the neighbours’ kids liked to play, such as flying kites and milk caps. Back then, you could tell whether a family was sophisticated based on the games their children played. Perhaps my parents didn’t want people to think of us as unsophisticated and lower-class.

About his parents

— It seems like you don’t have many fond memories of your parents. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Our bond was just too weak. There was only one time where my father stayed at home for five days during Chinese New Year. On three of those days though, he was drunk and asleep. That’s my only memory of us living together, so I don’t really understand the familial bonds and love of a regular family. In fact, when I grew up, I was more like a friend to my parents rather than their child.

— When did your father pass away? 1989, the year I left the music industry. When my father passed away, I was touring for “Final Encounter”, so I couldn’t even see him for the last time. It really wasn’t meant to be for us.

— What memories do you have of your mother? In comparison to my father, my memories of my mother are more vivid. In 1988 my mother came to live with me and we lived together for half a year. But… how do I say it? I was used to living alone and my mother and I never had that close mother-son bond, so we couldn’t feel that kind of familial love for each other right away even though we moved in together. I kept trying to close the distance between us and connect with her emotionally, but in the end I could only give her money and material things, so my mother didn’t really seem happy.

*Interviewer’s Note: Leslie’s mother passed away on 18 Oct, 1998*

At that time my mother’s relationship with my father was worsening and she was quite emotionally unstable. Even though she loved my father dearly, he often ignored her. Anyone who was not my father couldn’t make her happy no matter what they did. Even though I tried really hard to cheer her up, I still couldn’t heal the wounds in her heart.

— But you still had a special kind of bond with your mother in contrast to your father, didn’t you? Yes. For example, I always thought it was my father who wanted me to study abroad in the UK. I only found out from my uncle after my mother’s death that she fought for me to go there. My uncle told me that my mother begged my father many times to let me go to the UK… So even though my education wasn’t perfect, the person who let me set up such a good foundation was still my mother.

— Did you think about your mother after she passed away? To be honest, I thought I would just move on after my mother died. But when she actually passed away, I started thinking about a lot of things. I didn’t recall my memories and experiences with my mother - rather, I realised the importance of my mother’s existence in of itself. My birth, the things that bring me joy, sadness… really all kinds of things… I got all of these from my mother when I thought more about it. That’s why I’m really grateful to her.

— Do you ever regret not doing more for your mother before she passed away? *brief silence* …Personally, I feel that I did my best to do everything I was able to do, so I don’t really regret anything. If you asked my mother, she would most certainly be satisfied with what I did too.

Maybe I'm a bit traditional. I’m a strong believer in things like destiny and fate. For my mother and I, we didn’t realise the importance of our existence to each other until a few years before her death. But when we both understood that, it was already too late. She wasn’t able to be my “Ultimate Partner”, but I guess it was just meant to be that way. We couldn’t change it. There was no way to.

First loves and life as a student

— Who was your first love? What was she like? It happened when I was thirteen. To be honest, I’m not even sure if that counts as my first love. She was a very fast runner and was always training. Good looking, slim and looked a bit haughty. I liked those girls when I was younger. Not long after we met though, I left for the UK and nothing really happened between us after that. Three years later I came back to Hong Kong and met her again. The two of us went to Macau together to have some fun and it was there that I had sex for the first time.

— You were sixteen when you lost your virginity? Wasn’t that quite young for your time? Hm, I guess so. But at that time we felt that we loved each other so we just naturally took that step.

— “At that time”? Does that mean you later found out you didn’t actually love each other? Put it this way. We slowly found out that we didn’t look at problems the same way or have the same worldview. Eventually, she got married to one of my classmates and they even had kids. We bumped into each other last year, but we just chatted for a bit before going our separate ways.

— Do you still think about her a lot? No, no. I think she lives overseas now. Either way, even if I saw her right here right now, I don’t really have any special feelings for her anymore.

— You must have been very popular with the girls when you were still in school. You mean me? *very blunt* Not at all. I didn’t even think about if girls would like me. Even though my friends and classmates really wanted to win the affection of girls, I didn’t really feel that way. I was just really invested in sports like netball and volleyball.

— Are you an introvert then? Maybe. At the very least, I’m definitely not an extrovert. *laughs*

Dream Job

— As a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up? I actually had two dreams. First, I wanted to be a doctor. But I inherited shaky hands, so that was out of the question. I also wanted to be a pilot, but I was scared, so that was out of the question too. *laughs* Even now when I’m on a plane and there’s turbulence, I get scared.

— And now? What’s your current dream job? I want to be an interior designer or some kind of art critic. I’m really interested in that kind of stuff. Also, I really really want to be a very talented pianist. The piano really is an amazing invention. If you’re stressed, you can just play the piano and all your worries go away.

I especially want to play the piano because I compose my own songs now. But I guess if I was actually able to play the piano, maybe I wouldn’t be able to compose songs freely!

— It’s not too late to start learning how to play the piano! No, no. I couldn’t before, I can’t now, and I can’t in the future… my left and right hand aren’t the same. When I was 22, I had two tumours on the back of my left wrist and the bone of my left hand. I even had surgery done for it. Because of this, my left hand slowly became smaller and couldn’t exert much force. I did a lot of stuff to keep it balanced with my right hand and it looks mostly normal now, but my left hand is still quite weak.

Studying in the UK

— You went to study in the UK when you were only 13. Did you want that for yourself? Or was it just your parents’ wishes? Of course I wanted it for myself. I had good grades in primary school, but they slid straight down when I got to secondary school because I was terrible at maths. In secondary school, there was algebra and all kinds of weird stuff. The material suddenly became much more difficult. I was always a humanities type of guy. I excelled in subjects like literature and music, but I was horrible at science subjects and maths. I wasn’t good at theoretical and sciencey stuff. I heard that the maths was much easier overseas: Oh, so there’s a way out! That’s what I thought at the time. *laughs*

— And was the maths in the UK really easy? Yeah. Even I managed to get by. My best subject was English Literature. I was the best at it in my grade and even got a prize for it.

— And which writer did you specialise in studying? DH Lawrence and Shakespeare. I loved reading poems even when I was in Hong Kong and I even won prizes for reciting them in a few competitions. I’m the type of person who’s really good at distinguishing between what I’m good at and what I’m bad at.

— You mentioned earlier that you want to be an interior designer. But wouldn’t that be difficult if you’re not good at maths? Yeah. Honestly, I’m really interested in architecture and design, but if you actually let me design a home, it might all fall apart really quickly. So if I were to actually become an interior designer, I can only work on the decorations and arrangements. *laughs* Stuff like this piece of furniture should go here, that kind of furniture should go with this decoration… That’s about the extent of my capabilities. I’d get in trouble if I did anything else. *laughs again*

— I noticed that you didn’t study literature in university. Yeah. I majored in textile management. That was my father’s wish. As a father, it’s only natural for you to want your children to learn something related to your own career. Unfortunately, half of my father's body became paralysed because of his drinking habits before I could graduate. I was therefore suddenly told to come back to Hong Kong, so that ended in failure.

Becoming a singer and idol

— When you came back to Hong Kong you joined RTV (now ATV)’s singing contest. What was that like? I often sang at the place my friends worked at when I was in the UK. When I came back to Hong Kong, I found that English songs were quite popular so I wanted to see if I could break into the industry. To be honest, I was half goofing around. I never thought about becoming a singer.

— But you got second place and signed a contract with RTV… I did, but I didn't become popular instantly. From 1977 when I debuted until I released “Monica” in 1983, I was pretty much a nobody. During that time I sang English songs and wore jeans and sweatshirts, but the trend back then was for people to wear suits and sing seriously. I was young and had a baby face. Maybe I just didn’t fit the requirements for an idol of that time.

— Do you have any unforgettable memories from that time? Oh, I have a lot. I can think of one incident that was the most painful - no, miserable for me. One time, I was a performer at a concert where a lot of famous singers were performing. When it was my turn to go on stage, I threw my hat into the crowd. No one caught it - in fact, they tossed it back! That was so cruel. *laughs* There was a time when I had to go through stuff like that. Now I’m almost nostalgic for it, but I was pretty incensed about it back then.

— On the other hand, you started playing major roles quite early on in your acting career. Were you always interested in becoming an actor? I’ve always been interested in acting. I was lucky that as soon as I started out, I was already playing the main characters. If my memory serves me well, my first movie was released in 1979. It was a comedy with some… slightly sexual parts. But because I didn’t really have a choice in the roles I played, I took on all sorts of roles. I was young and wanted to earn some money, so I just acted in everything. Even though I can’t be proud of some of my parts, I don’t regret anything. That’s how people mature along with time.

— Are there any of your movies that you wouldn’t want to watch again? No, actually. But when I see some of my older films, I feel bad just thinking about my situation at the time. Back then, I never had over HKD$1000 in my bank account. I kept thinking, “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a thousand dollars…”

— Didn’t you feel disheartened during those seven years of being a nobody? To be honest, I never found that period long. The reason I say this is because the entertainment industry at the time didn’t really have anyone who became a star the moment they debuted. It was practically common sense that it’d take ten or so years to become a star.

— So did you believe that one day you’d become a star too? Hmm, how do I say this? Even though I wasn’t totally sure that it would happen, I was always waiting for an opportunity to arrive. The stars at the time like Sam Hui, Roman Tam and George Lam influenced me heavily too. In Hong Kong though, it’s impossible to become famous or popular just by copying others. You can’t become a star without your own speciality or being unique.

— Were you influenced a lot by Japanese idols? A lot. I feel like I’m more influenced by Japanese singers than local ones. Hideki Saijo, Kenji Sawada, Mayumi Itsuwa… and especially Momoe Yamaguchi, all influenced me heavily. My version of her song, “The Wind Blows On” was certified gold. “Monica” did even better and was certified platinum. To me though, “The Wind Blows On” was more impactful. That’s why I put the gold record in my coffee shop as a decoration.

— From that moment onwards, you became an extremely popular idol. What was the life of an idol like? I was much busier back then than I am now. As someone who was both acting and singing, my work was mostly for my singing career. Also, the need to win awards was much stronger… like a “hungry artist”. Whatever opportunity arose, be it an advertisement or a performance overseas, I would take it. At the time I was just constantly in an emotionally taut state. An idol’s life isn’t as happy as people think it is. To satisfy the audience, you have to constantly be charming and handsome. For the audience, for your fans… I kept thinking like that and slowly lost my sense of self. It was like I wasn’t myself anymore.

About Mr Tong

— Do you think your personality is suitable for being a celebrity? I think so. I’m not really a fan of a fixed work schedule and job, but in this industry, the people around me all help me and I decide the rules for my own game. Of course, as an idol, sometimes your privacy gets violated which isn’t a pleasant feeling. But I’ve never liked jobs with rigorous schedules. As an artist, as long as you put out good work, you can create the rules. That was really attractive to me.

— Are you bothered by gossip? I’ve gotten much better at dealing with it. I think it’s because my fans don’t believe in all those unverified news articles springing up everywhere - rather, they believe in me and my integrity. People who believe in gossip won’t believe me no matter what I say. So there’s really not much use in being bothered by gossip. In the end, people will believe what they want to believe.

— Even though you say that, it must make you uncomfortable. They have no right to say those things… Well, of course I’ll feel uncomfortable. When talking about my mother’s funeral a while ago, the press chose to put the spotlight on Mr Tong (Daffy) rather than my mother’s death. I thought that was really unfair and it showed no respect for the dead. Even though I’m an artist and it’s only normal for people to write about me, I can’t tolerate people writing all kinds of rubbish about my siblings and my friends. They shouldn’t be the target of the media’s abuse. I really want to protect them, and I feel that I have the ability to do so as well.

— To you, what’s Mr Tong’s position in your life? He’s my best friend. I can tell him everything. He’s like a little brother to me. We’ve known each other since we were young, my mother was his godmother [Interviewer’s Note: In China, apart from biological parents, people have the habit of getting godparents 乾爸媽 for their children’s future. People treat their godparents like their own relatives.] Especially after his family moved to the US… he was just like a member of our family.

I think I’ll be indebted to him for the rest of my life. Before I became famous, I urgently needed a good amount of money because of a certain incident. I think that was the toughest time of my life. He didn’t say anything and just found a way to get the amount of money. That was worth months of his income. I only heard through the grapevine later that he ate only the cheapest takeout for lunch every day afterwards because of how costly it was for him. He was the only friend who treated me so well in my hour of need. So I’ll always treat him like my lifelong friend. He’s not just one of my friends. To me, he’s a very special, very important friend.

— The media has been speculating a lot about your relationship with Mr Tong. What do you think about that? I really hate it. I’m okay with it, but he’s just a normal guy. Yet the reporters chase him all around Hong Kong and take all kinds of pictures. It even disrupts him from doing his job… I really feel ashamed about it.

It’s the same for my brothers and sisters. Don’t write all kinds of rubbish just because one of my siblings is getting divorced. I’m alright with the press writing whatever about me, but I really don’t want you all to write about my family and friends. That’s just not fair!

On dating and marriage

— Let’s talk more about you. People say that a big part of your charm is your mysteriousness… That’s because I don’t talk about my personal business in public and I rarely make news for the press. How meaningless would it be if I just exposed everything about myself? Of course, I’m not saying I shut myself in at home every day and hide from everyone. The reason why I opened up a coffee shop was so that I could create a place where I could meet my fans. As long as you bump into me, I’ll sign an autograph for you and we can even take pictures together. My door is always open.

However, I don’t want to publicise my home, my life, and my friends and family. I just want to keep my privacy. There’s always someone asking, “Don’t you want to get married?”! That’s my own personal business. I don’t think there’s a need for me to answer that question. — But as your fans, it’s only natural for them to care. They’ll think, “Why can’t, or rather won’t, a guy as charming as Leslie get married?” Do you really want to know that badly? *laughs* To put it simply, I’ve never had any dreams about getting married. I don’t dare to believe in marriage. There’s a lot of divorcees in my family. My parents didn’t have a good relationship and I grew up seeing multiple of my siblings going through divorces. So I’m not really confident in the idea of marriage. I don’t have a good impression of it. So maybe I’ll never get married (asks the interviewer) Are you married? Do you have a good relationship with your husband? Have you considered getting a divorce? (asks very quickly)

However, although I may never get married, I still care a lot about my family. Ever since I was young I didn’t really have a relationship with my home and relatives, so now I really care about “home”. I only put things I like in my home - I want to create a space where it’s okay to relax.

Above: Leslie Cheung and Teresa Mo for All's Well, Ends Well (1992)

— Have you really never thought about getting married? I have! That was when I was still very young. I think at the time I was only 22. She was a little older than me and we considered the idea of marriage very seriously. But out of the blue, she suddenly started acting very oddly and it was like her wires were crossed. I didn’t really know why, and at the time I was still young; in short, it was a really difficult ending.

— So you never seriously considered getting married after that? I didn’t. It’s almost definitely because my standards are too high. I’m really strict towards myself and everyone else. A normal person might be satisfied with 70% perfection, but I’d only be satisfied at around 95%. So something that’s normally satisfactory becomes unsatisfactory in my eyes. Tong always tells me, “You’re a perfectionist. Even if it’s really great, you’re still not satisfied, so I really pity you.” But when I look at him, even if it’s something very small, he's really touched and happy, so sometimes I really envy that. But I still can’t lower my standards.

— Even towards women? Hmm, you could say that if I like someone, I’ll have a lot of expectations towards them, which ends up in disappointment. I’m scared of that kind of disappointment. Besides, I’m 42 now - I’m at the age cap for liking someone! Even if a 20-year-old girl was in love with me and I liked her too, considering my age and my own personal stance, I know we can’t end up together based on feelings alone. Problems regarding the future, our environment… there are just too many problems to consider. As you get older, apart from becoming more demanding, you also lose more of your passion and vigour, so it’s kind of difficult.

— Even though you say that, there are definitely plenty of women who like you. I don’t know… at this age, you can’t just fall in love! For example, if a girl told me “I love you,” I’d have to think: “Huh. Why is that?” *laughs* Really! I get scared just considering things about the future. Because for two people to coexist together, apart from love, you have to understand each other in all aspects, such as your personality, way of thinking, lifestyle… Take me and my mother as an example. Even though we’re mother and son, living together suddenly after being apart for so many years and trying to understand each other was really difficult. Of course, it’d be best if we could love each other from the bottom of our hearts and fully understand each other…

— It seems like your emotional state is really important in making a decision like this. Of course. As long as your hearts and souls are connected, even making love isn’t important. Of course, I don’t want to deny its importance either! *laughs*

— May I ask who you love most right now? Talking about who I love most… probably myself. If you’re talking about people other than myself, I guess you could say that as long as I truly like them, it doesn’t matter whether they’re male or female.

— So you’re bisexual? I’m trying to say that if someone loves me and I love them back, their gender doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter how I say it, I won’t be able to find that kind of happiness anyways. If you’re okay with both men and women, your chances are doubled. What’s not to like? *laughs*

As a superstar

— In “Farewell My Concubine” and “Happy Together”, as well as your provocative dancing in red heels during your 97 concert… These are a series of explorations past your own gender. Are you trying to send a certain message? No, they don’t have any special correlation. I’m not trying to send any particular message either. In “Farewell My Concubine”, Director Chen Kaige told me I had been mostly playing handsome young men. I had a pretty stable image, so he wanted me to be able to play a cute woman too as an actor. As for “Happy Together”, it was because homosexuality was a hot topic back then, so I thought maybe it’d be interesting to play a gay man.

For my concert, it was because I needed a little excitement. That wasn’t my idea though - it was the designer in charge of costumes and arts. David Bowie’s feminine performance on stage had a huge impact, so he said it would be very meaningful to do it in Asia too.

Actually, our original intention was to do Beijing Opera. But the clothing and makeup would be quite a hassle, so we wanted to find something that could replace it. We thought of putting on red lipstick based on the theme of the song “Red”, but the Hung Hom Coliseum is huge. You wouldn’t be able to see the lipstick all the way up in the spectator’s stand, so I just wore red heels instead.

— Watching your concerts or films makes people feel you’re very self-absorbed*. Are you that way in real life as well? I do play a lot of narcissists in my films. For myself, how do I… *thinks for a rather long time* In my movies or concerts, I hope to show the audience the best me. But outside of work, I don’t even look at the mirror, and I don’t really care about my own appearance. At the very least, I’m not the type of person who likes hanging their own photos in their home or in the shop. * T/N: The word used in the original is 自我陶醉 (literally drunk by yourself). It does not necessarily have a negative connotation and is used to refer to when someone is very absorbed in what they are doing, and is enjoying it a lot. The term can also be translated as narcissistic depending on the context.

— But objectively you are quite handsome. What do you think when you see your reflection in the mirror? “Wow, he’s so handsome!” *laughs so hard he bends over* No, no, I’m just joking. You can’t really judge your own appearance objectively.

Think about it, it’s just a face you’re used to seeing since birth.

For a long time, people who don’t know me well have said I’m “pampered”, “cool”, “efficient”... to be honest, that’s not even true. I just like saying whatever pops into my head, so people think I’m a stuck up guy. Chinese people generally beat around the bush and avoid directness to be polite. For a guy like me who just says everything directly, it’s easy to get into trouble. But I guess that has nothing to do with being self absorbed.

— People describe your charm in a lot of ways, like “cute”, “handsome”, and “sexy”... which word makes you the happiest? Coming from my fans, it doesn’t matter if the word is cute, handsome or sexy - I’ll be happy either way. But if it’s someone who knows me well, then I won’t be happy with any of those words. There’s nothing worth being happy about when you’re only praised for your looks.

— So what descriptor makes you the happiest? “Good fellow”, probably? Among all the words of praise, this one moves me most.

— Is Leslie Cheung the superstar actually you? Or is it a persona you've played as and released to be a marketable product? Oh, this is a difficult question. I don't really feel that I'm consciously playing a role, so I guess it should be me. There's no gap between me and "actor Leslie". *asks the interviewer* Don't you think that's my worth in a film? Also, I feel like the potential and talent needed to be a star are qualities that I possess.

Actually, people are just like kaleidoscopes. It's impossible to only show people one side of yourself. But whether it's fans or the media, they tend to only look at one side of us and make judgements based on what they look at, which creates all kinds of misconceptions. The fans tend to only like looking at the almost mythical parts of their favourite celebrities. The media also tends to make mountains out of molehills when they don't have the full picture. But the truth is, those are only variations in the pattern of the kaleidoscope.

— You could say that the job of a superstar is to sell variations in the kaleidoscope’s pattern, so it should be quite high-stress. What do you do when you feel that your stress has reached its limit? Yeah, so it’s actually really important to relax yourself. For me, I choose to go on holiday. I go somewhere no one knows me. Lately I’ve fallen in love with hot springs.

— You already have things that most people want. Positions, reputation, money, beauty, charm… If there’s something missing, what would you say it is? *thinks for a moment* Maybe education? Because I quit halfway in university. It would have been nice if I studied more during that time. If it’s possible I’d like to study all the way up to a doctorate. There’s too much that can only be learnt during your student days.

As an actor

— Do you like rewatching your own movies? Or do you not really watch them? Mm, I probably count as the type that doesn’t really watch them. Because when I watch my own films, I keep thinking things like “Oh, that’s not quite right”, or “If only I acted this way in this scene”... I mind a lot.

When I’m acting, I’m really immersed so I don’t have the time and energy to look at it objectively. After doing it all in one go and looking at it afterwards, my flaws are very obvious from a third person perspective. From a mental health perspective though, it’s not really good to dwell on regrets about something you can’t change.

— So far among all the roles you’ve acted in, are there any which you can say you interpreted flawlessly? *No hesitation* No. For all my films, if I rewatch them, I always think “I would do better if I did it now…”

— Your acting skills have clearly matured over your career, especially in romance scenes. Is this a result of gaining experience or because you consciously put in work on these scenes? Really? I got better at romance scenes? *laughs* If so, personal experience would certainly help, but it’s more that I slowly matured through constantly acting. Your acting skills are like a deposit book. If you keep putting in money, one day you’ll reap the rewards. When a melon is ripe, it falls off its stem… the time each person takes to get there is different, and of course some people never get there at all. It’s not just personal hard work, many other factors like whether you can meet a good director are all really important.

— Not just your romance scenes, there’s something unique in every way you move on the big screen. Even if it’s just your silhouette, people know for sure it’s you. Is the way you carry yourself something natural or is it a conscious effort? I never consciously thought about that. It just came about naturally. I don’t think there’s any particular “method” of acting, you’re not consciously doing this and that. I just do what I think is the most natural thing to do in that scene. In other words, I do what I think that character would do. I’m just recreating those movements.

Some actors have their best angles figured out and work out how they are best captured on camera. But I don’t really enjoy consciously acting like that. My expressions and movements are the best when I just act like myself. That’s the most natural.

However, when you keep reshooting a certain part, like the opening and ending of a certain shot, it’s easier for the editors if you do the same thing every time. But repeating the same movement over and over again really bores me, so I start trying out some different interpretations.

If the acting is very successful, the director is only human. They would also think that it’d be a waste to cut out that scene even if they have to change what they originally had in mind. What the audience sees is made up of all the best shots.

— Either way, there’ll still be a marked difference in the performance of a good actor and a bad actor. Well, of course. Talented actors or actors of a high calibre make you forget their acting. You feel like they’re just being themselves. That’s because they’re unique and not an imitation of someone else - that's why they’re convincing.

In comparison, those “average” or untalented actors are often unwilling to challenge themselves so while they don’t make huge mistakes, they also can’t make the audience feel the character fully. They make no attempt to be unique and instead subconsciously copy people around them.

— You’ve played many roles alongside several prominent leading ladies. As you continue to play these roles, your partners get younger and younger. It may not look like it but there’s actually an age gap between the two of you. Do you feel the age gap between you and your costars? Yeah, it’s like that now. *laughs* To be honest, lately with my costars it feels more like I’m teaching a student rather than acting with them. In fact when actually on set I become a teacher completely. *laughs* However, even though I feel the age gap between us, I have a baby face, so it also looks unnatural if I act alongside the actresses of my generation. I guess it can’t be helped.

On the movies he's starred in

— Which one of your starring roles was the hardest to play? *thinks for a moment* Ho Po-Wing in “Happy Together”. I was feeling unwell* during the shooting and I had to arrange all kinds of things for my upcoming concert which made me really nervous. Wong Kar-wai’s the type of director who doesn’t prepare a script and there were all kinds of problems. It was especially difficult to make Ho Po-Wing, whose personality is horrible, a charming character. I was really worried about that. * T/N: Leslie had amoebiasis during the filming in Argentina after eating contaminated food. — You still pulled off the role successfully though. You were even nominated for the Hong Kong Film Award and Golden Horse Award for Best Actor. That was really unexpected. I didn’t really think I was the main character in “Happy Together” so I didn’t think I was qualified to be nominated.

— Do you think you were qualified for the award for your roles in “Days of Being Wild” and “Ashes of Time”? The panel decides who gets the awards. I can’t really judge whether I’m qualified to get a prize. If there’s any film of mine which I think should be qualified to win something, it would probably be “Farewell My Concubine”. It won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival. I was also really delighted to hear that it was a critical success in Japan.

— Was it easier to play Cheng Dieyi in Farewell My Concubine compared to Ho Po-Wing in Happy Together? Yeah. I liked Dieyi’s personality more too and we had more in common, especially his dedication and meticulousness towards art and love. I felt that really deeply. It was difficult to grasp the Beijing dialect and learn Beijing Opera though. But overall in all aspects, it’s an unforgettable film for me.

— “He’s a Woman, She’s a Man” is a film portraying the workings of the entertainment industry. Fans think that Koo Ka-ming (Sam) is actually a depiction of you… Not at all. I can’t write songs and I can’t play the piano either. *laughs* I guess we behave similarly when we’re single… Looking inward, if there are any similarities, maybe it’s in our living habits and worldview. We're more stubborn about that. As for some other aspects, some of those are just my own personality peeking through. Like the scene where I’m very scared and stuck in the elevator. Actually, that was just my real reaction when imagining the incident occurring to myself. Did it look real?

— I see. So that scene was just you. I always felt like that fear seemed too real. *laughs* Now that I’m talking with you though, I do feel that you share far too many similarities with Sam Koo. Hm, really? Okay, maybe a bit. *laughs* But to be honest, rather than Sam Koo being like me, Sam Koo is like the director Peter Chan.

Directors and Actors

— Speaking of Director Peter Chan, I wanted to ask you about the directors you've encountered. You worked together with Chen Kaige in "Farewell, My Concubine" and "Temptress Moon", so I suppose he's one of the directors who really appreciates your talent. He does like working with me. The script for "Temptress Moon" was written after I was chosen to play the lead role. A so-called "tailor-made" script for me.

— There are rumours that you were originally going to star in “The Emperor and the Assassin”. I was invited to, but my schedule didn’t allow for it. The shooting would take around a year but I had a world tour going on, so I couldn’t give him that much time. There’s also another reason. The main character of the film was a tall, strong, broad-backed guy in Chinese people’s imaginations… I’m too far away from that kind of image.

— The roles you play in Wong Kar-Wai’s films and Tsui Hark’s films are totally different. Is this because the two directors have different impressions of you? Maybe it’s because they’ve observed different parts of me. Besides, the content of their films is quite different. Wong Kar-Wai’s films are in a unique, perhaps “dispirited” or nihilistic world. Even though the time or location of his films varies, the world he’s trying to create is always the same.

Comparatively, Tsui Hark’s movies always have some kind of hidden philosophical or political thought. Even if the movie is very dark, there’s always hope and light somewhere. Do my roles reflect the differences in their films?

— It was quite shocking to see that you didn’t need guidance from the director (Jacob Cheung) on the set of “The Kid''. Instead, you mulled over and interpreted the role yourself. Is this the norm for you? Pretty much. Directors rarely adjust my acting. That’s why some people can’t stand it when they work with me for the first time. Generally, directors think that acting is something the director arranges for you.

But to be honest, once they start filming, they begin to recognise my acting and usually take my opinions and advice into account. Of course, people don’t think the same way, and my opinions may not be the same as the director all the time. But I’m dedicated to every role I play, and I always hope that I can make a good film. That’s definitely something I share in common with the director.

— In terms of acting skills, you don’t really need a director… How could I? It’s impossible to imagine not having a director. Think about it - no matter how good actors are, they’re always in first-person perspective. An expert looking at you from a third-person perspective and correcting your technical errors, which is the director, is absolutely necessary. Of course I might disagree with the director, but that’s a really important part of making a good movie.

I’m a really lucky actor in that I’ve worked with a lot of great directors. John Woo, Chen Kaige, Wong Kar-Wai, Peter Chan, Jacob Cheung… all of them are excellent directors. The fact that they think I’m a good actor makes me happier than anything else.

To be honest, how good a film is rests almost entirely in the director’s hands. The director is the lynchpin. A movie is a treasure chest and the director is the key. Whether you can unlock it and get the treasure depends totally on the director. That’s why my goal for now is to become a director.

About the future

— Have you already begun work on your directorial debut? I’m working on it. If all goes well, I should be able to start filming in the spring (1999). I haven’t really decided on the contents though.

— As a director, who would you consider picking to be the female lead? Karen Mok or Shu Qi. Karen is a really good performer and an actress with a bright future. Shu Qi isn’t just beautiful, she’s sexy too, so I think she’d be a good fit for a romance movie. They both have great potential.

— Your fans worry that you won’t act anymore once you begin your directorial career. How will you divide your time among directing, acting and singing? I think I’ll reduce my activities as a singer. I want to do music when I’m relaxed and not churn out albums regularly like I do now. Maybe just once or twice a year. I want to really feel the joy of making music and sing for the people who truly like my songs.

As for directing, I want to focus on only being a director at least for the first one or two times. Later, when I’m getting the hang of it, I’ll decide whether I want to continue being an actor. If it’s all smooth sailing, I could be an actor and a leading man like Robert Redford.

— That’s certainly comforting. As an actor, are there any roles or films you’re interested in outside of Hong Kong films? Jack Nicholson’s role in “As Good As It Gets”. It’s really easy to hate that character, but his character is actually really kind-hearted. I think it’d be interesting if I could play that kind of role.

— There’s another role in “As Good As It Gets” - the gay artist with a very special personality. What about that kind of role? *laughs* No way. I don’t want to play that kind of role. *laughs*

— So on the flip side, what kind of roles wouldn’t you be willing to play or be able to handle? The kind of roles that Jackie Chan plays. *laughs*

— There’s a rumour that you won’t act in comedies anymore. Is that true? No! I love the flow of comedies and I might act in one some other time. If I get used to being a director, I might even film one myself.

— Lastly, please tell me something about your first musical, “A Chinese Ghost Story”, which is scheduled for next year. I’ve never done a musical before so I’m really curious about it too. Challenging myself to try a new thing really excites me. If it’s a success, I feel unprecedented joy. The reason why we chose “A Chinese Ghost Story” to be made into a musical is because of its visual effects. Musicals are a product of blending your hearing and sight. I hope the music and visual effects can complement each other and elevate the musical.

— Will there be a performance in Japan as said before? If possible, we’d like to do it. But unlike movies, there are no subtitles, so the language barrier might be a problem.

— Even if there’s a language barrier, we will still be able to enjoy the performance. Please make the Japanese performance a reality. I’m really happy to hear that. Whatever happens, I hope it’s a successful musical. I’ll try my best, please remember to come watch it then! * T/N: The “A Chinese Ghost Story” musical never happened due to investors’ uncertainties regarding the economic state of Hong Kong at the time, among other reasons. You can read an archived article about it here.

Leslie's past dream home

In the interview, Leslie spoke many times about “home”. Since his childhood, he dreamt of having a carefree, stable home. Leslie, who is interested in interior design, finally helped to design his own home and created his “dream home”! Unfortunately, once he moved, the media surrounded his home. Even tour buses stopped by, which led to the house being sold not long after him moving in…

I wish to have a place where I can’t be disrupted, and I can relax myself… saying this, he reveals part of his dreams and thoughts.

Personal Information

Helping you to understand more about Cheung Kwok-Wing

Place of Birth: Hong Kong

Blood Type: O

Nickname: 哥哥 (Gor Gor, lit. big brother)

Where the nickname came from: His costar in “A Chinese Ghost Story”, Joey Wong called him that. After a while, everyone around him started calling him Gor Gor

Favourite flower: Orchids, because they bloom for a long time.

Favourite food: Seafood, especially lobsters

Least favourite food: Mexican food *scrunches up his brows – it tastes terrible!*

Favourite colour: White, black and grey

Favourite car: Porsche Range Rover

Current car: An ink-green Range Rover

Traits when driving: Drives safely (He says that, but he’s actually a speeder)

Interests: Painting appreciation and watching films. Also interested in antiques

Biggest fear: Flying, especially in turbulence. A bit scared of heights and is also claustrophobic

Things he hates: Gossip including people who spread gossip and people who like gossip

Favourite book: “Dream of the Red Chamber” and books about interior design/decoration

Favourite author: Ba Jin (巴金)

Favourite movie: Gone with the Wind

Favourite actors: Daniel Day-Lewis, Jack Nicholson, Robert De Niro

Favourite actresses: Audrey Hepburn, Vivien Leigh (says while laughing: they’re not trendy anymore!)

Favourite directors: Akira Kurosawa, Bernardo Bertolucci, Li Han-hsiang (a HK director active in the 50s-70s)

Favourite singers: Barbara Streisand, Elton John, Boyz II Men

Buying clothes: Buys them by himself. Usually buys underwear through mail order.

Favourite brands: Jil Sander

Favourite animal: Dog

Pets: German Shepherd “Bingo” (Bingo is his third dog, he also had another shepherd dog in Canada)

Religion: None

Rules of living: Be patient, be genuine with your friends

When alone at home: Reads a book or watches TV

What he looks like asleep: Naked. It’s best to wear nothing when you’re sleeping!

How he sleeps: Usually on his back

Falling asleep: Quite easy. As long as he doesn’t have too much on his mind, he can fall asleep very quickly

Waking up: Decent. Might be an “early bird”.

Bad habits: Doesn’t really have any significant bad habits

Superstitious: A bit

When is he superstitious: Greeting people at home and paying respects to the Buddha in temples. That kind of thing.

Where he washes first when showering: His head

Favourite part of his face: Chin (the fortune teller said it was a chin which foretells making many good friends in his later years!)

Least favourite part of his face: Left eye. It usually has a double eyelid, but it becomes a triple eyelid when he’s tired

Favourite part of his body: Doesn’t have a favourite

Least favourite body part: Legs

Why it’s his least favourite body part: They are too short. It would have been nice if he was just a bit taller (By the way, he says his height is 175 cm)

Your personality: Ever-changing

An animal you’re most alike to: A wild monkey

Reason: Likes being carefree and spontaneous, doesn’t like feeling tied up

Happiest thing in his life: “Farewell My Concubine” winning the Palme d’Or

Saddest thing in his life: His parents passing away

If he was reincarnated, what would he want to be: A human

If he was reincarnated as an animal: A bird then

Would he rather be male or female: Male. Because in this world, men can be independent

If he was a woman: He wants to be a woman who is very rich or a very talented woman so he doesn’t have to be ordered around by men and can live an independent life

Interviewer/Writing: Shima Chitose Translation: Me (@dailylesliec on Twitter/Tumblr) Do not repost without credit. If you like this translation, consider following me or buying me a Ko-fi. Taken from the Leslie's Everything / Leslie 的所有 fanbook.

#leslie cheung #dailylesliec translations #張國榮 #leslie's everything #leslie 的所有 #장국영

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