#for Duke a ‘I can never truly understand what you’re going/have gone through and for that I’m sorry’ from Bruce should suffice

[you-are-my-joy]

The Return of an Empress | 08

Title: The Return of an Empress

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Genre: Isekai, Angst, Romance, Fluff, Smut (Later on), Slow burn

Characters: Empress!Reader, Advisor!Jin, Advisor!Yoongi, General!Hoseok, Advisor!Namjoon, Assassin!Jimin, Knight!Taehyung, Knight!Jungkook

Word count: ~9.2k

Summary: After one fateful night, you find yourself transmigrated into your favorite novel as the Empress that shares the same name as you. As a bookworm, most would think you’d be happy, but how could you be happy when the Empress you’ve become is expected to be killed in three months. The only thing on your mind now is to learn how to survive.

Warning: May contain depictions of violence and mentions of abuse throughout the story.

Masterlist

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“Here you go, your majesty,” Joy offers you a glass of water before preparing your bed for you to sleep in.

Your eyes soften at the girl, “Thank you Joy,” you gratefully take the water and nearly drink it in one gulp. Absolutely exhausted after everything that has happened.

“Long day?” Joy teases as she takes the now empty glass from your hand. 

You let out a long sigh, stretching your arms above your head, “don’t even get me started.” Joy purses her lips, giving you a sad expression as she can see how tired you were, both mentally and physically. She wishes she could help further, but the most she could do is attend to your needs, but honestly, that’s all you really need at the moment. 

To say it was a long day would be an absolute understatement as you recall the events that occurred. From the morning of the beheadings, to dealing with reporters, and finally to consoling a crying Yoongi, yup, it was most definitely a very long day. 

You close your eyes as you think about your time with Yoongi just a few hours ago. 

Yoongi sniffs before pulling away, his red puffy eyes looking at your now damp shoulder, suddenly feeling embarrassed for breaking down right in front of you. But that doesn’t stop him from grabbing hold of your hands, “I’m so sorry for everything, for not being there for you when you need me the most,” his tearful gaze staring straight at you, glossy eyes on the verge of producing more tears. 

He continues as he lets out a shaky breath, “I’m sorry for giving up on you,” his voice cracks as a fresh batch of tears begin to form in his eyes. 

You give him a soft smile as you reach a hand to wipe away at his tears, “I forgive you,” you whisper softly. 

Yoongi closes his eyes, savoring this moment as you caress his cheek gently. “You shouldn’t,” he whispers as he tearfully looks at you with a downcasted look.

However, you two didn’t stay in that position for long as your presence was urgently needed elsewhere when Joy called for you. You remember looking back regretfully towards Yoongi, but he only nods, understanding that you’d be busy with the whole scandal. He ushered you out of the room, gingerly placing his palm to your back. Promising to speak to you privately when the whole ordeal dies down. 

And so despite having such a long day, you can’t help but feel like things worked out in the end. You no longer have to deal with Lee Joong-Gu nor do you have to worry about Yoongi. You had always planned to reconcile with Yoongi at some point in the future, but you never imagined it would transpire like that, with the usual cold advisor breaking down his walls and sobbing in your arms. But you can't help but feel like a weight is off your shoulder.

The only thing on your mind now is what’s going to happen when you’re attending the meeting tomorrow. Because for the first time since you’ve arrived in this world, all eight of you would be present in the same room. You’re not sure how that would turn out considering how tense it was when only five men were in the same room. You can only imagine what would occur with all seven, but you try to remain positive, only hoping that the meeting would run as smoothly as possible. 

This was probably one of the most awkward things you’ve ever had to sit through.

Here you are, all eight of you sitting around in a circular table in complete silence as you eye the men wearily. Initially it was only just going to be you, Hoseok, and the three advisors, but the three youngest insisted that they attend this meeting as well. And yet, no one has the courage to speak up in front of each other. The only sounds coming from Taehyung’s fingers tapping against the hardwood in a steady beat. Meanwhile the rest of the men fidget in their seats impatiently, avoiding eye contact with one another. 

You let out a sigh, unable to handle this any further. Here goes nothing. You clear your throat, immediately gaining everyone’s attention, “Thank you for being here everyone, we have a lot to talk about.” 

Hoseok nods his head, crossing his arms, “indeed we do.”

You turn your attention to Namjoon sitting in front of you, “I’m sure you have a list of things to discuss about,” you wave your hand, “take it away,” you lean back in your chair crossing your legs, ready for whatever's about to come. 

Namjoon looks down at the countless documents in front of him as he skims through its contents, “we need to first discuss what we plan to do with former Grand Duke Lee Joong-Gu.” Offering you a tentative glance before looking through the documents once more. 

You hum, leaning against the arms of your chair, “Who will be inheriting the late grand duke's wealth?” you ask curiously. 

“His eldest daughter, Lee Yuri, is the heir,” Namjoon answers without raising his head to look at you. 

Suddenly, Jin speaks up, “We should thoroughly investigate her and the rest of the family,” he glares down at the documents as if they were cursed, “his butler turned himself in for knowing about the drugs, who’s to say more people don't know about it either. We should take them away and put them in the dungeons before that happens.” You hear many of the men murmur their agreement to his statement. 

You, however, try to avoid eye contact, pretending to busy yourself with looking over the documents, trying not to act suspicious because you know she’s innocent. Despite being a god awful human being, the grand duke truly did love his family and made sure that they never knew about the drugs in hopes of protecting them. If he ever got caught, he didn’t want to bring them down with him. His only decision in life that you agreed on.

You nod, “we will go through with investigating his family.” You didn’t want to, knowing they were innocent, but how could you explain yourself without them thinking you’ve gone crazy.

You raise your head to look around the room, “however, the investigation will commence a week after today.”

Hoseok furrows his eyebrows, “I’m sorry but I have to disagree,” he butts in, “we need to take them into custody just to play safe. What if they hide every evidence of their involvement during that time frame?”

There are none. Is what you want to say. But you know without any proof to back up your claim, they would never believe you.

“They just witnessed the beheading of their father, that’s not something that’s easy to get over. We should give them time to grieve,” you suggest. You watch the rest of the men eye each other wearily, clearly opposed to your idea. 

“Their father is a criminal,” Yoongi grinds out with clenched teeth.

“Does that automatically mean they’re criminals as well?” you question with a raised brow. 

He crosses his arms as he leans back against his chair, lips pursed with displeasure, “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Just because he was their father doesn’t mean they share the same morals,” you defend.

Jin only sighs, “I understand where you’re coming from, but chances are, they probably knew about it too. We shouldn’t risk anything and take them in,” his tone cold and disapproving. 

“Let’s put it this way,” you start, “they’re automatically being labelled as criminals just because they’re his family without any solid evidence,” you furrow your eyes, waving your hand around, “does that sound fair to you?”

The men remain silent, urging you to continue, “You have to also think about what they’re going through. Because not only has their father betrayed the empire, he betrayed them, surely that’s not a good feeling to have. Their family reputation is in shambles because of him all because he chose his greed over his own family,” your voice rising with each passing second.

Hoseok cocks a brow, both surprised and confused over your sudden behavior, “why are you so persistent with this?” 

“Because I don’t want to be responsible for-“ their death. 

You stop yourself. You got too emotional and nearly almost blurted out something you shouldn’t. 

In the sequel to the story, where the Grand Duke finally gets exposed, it’s revealed that not only does he have to pay the price for his crimes, but his family does too. The boys were far too emotional to make any rational decisions due to the scandal. In their fit of anger and need for revenge, they investigated and apprehended every family member of the criminals associated with the drugs, starting with Lee Joong-Gu’s. 

They didn’t care that the family was still in the early stages of grief, because to them, they were just the family of the man that ruined their lives.

And for that reason, they didn’t care when they got ridiculed publicly or when their name was absolutely stomped on in the tabloids. Even when they were proven to be innocent, they didn’t do anything to stop the harsh treatment they received from society.

His family never had time to grieve, their emotions bottled up due to all the attention they were receiving. Where the eldest daughter was essentially known as the daughter that killed the late empress, despite her efforts in trying to rebuild their reputation that title followed her everywhere she went. 

And when the entire family took their own lives, unable to handle the bankruptcy and excessive bullying, the empire rejoiced. They were innocent, yet their lives were ruined all because they trusted someone who promised to protect them. It wasn’t fair. 

“Your majesty?”

You blink, “huh?”

Jimin eyes you in concern, “You didn’t want to be responsible for what?”

You clear your throat, an attempt to compose yourself as you try to to avoid their prying eyes, “I didn’t want to be responsible for ruining people’s lives if they turned out to be innocent.” 

Yoongi scowls, clearly against your decision, “You’re being too lenient,” he points at the document angrily, “they could retaliate and avenge their father!”

You suck in a deep breath, calming down as you stare deep into his eyes, “Yoongi do you trust me?” 

He stills for a moment, before his eyes soften at this. He hesitates before nodding his head reluctantly, “yes, I do.”

You offer him a weak smile, thankful and surprised he admitted to that so easily, “then please trust in me on this as well,” your pleading eyes boring into his.

Yoongi sighs, before slumping down in his chair in defeat, wanting to avoid conflict after somewhat reconciling with you the day before. He didn’t want to risk causing more tension when you two have a lot more to talk about. So for now, he’ll just have to suck it up and deal with it.

You look around the room, immediately taking note of their displeased expressions, “any objections?” 

Suddenly the sound of a chuckle echoes around the room as Hoseok shakes his head, “seeing as how Yoongi hyung wasn’t able to get through you, neither of us have a chance,” he leans on the table with a smirk, “let’s hope her majesty’s judgment is correct.”

You turn your head back to Namjoon, “alright, what’s next on the list.” But before he could utter a word, Jimin suddenly rises to his feet.

“Wait!” he calls out, causing you and many of the other men to jump in surprise, he sends you all a sheepish smile before continuing, “there’s something important I need to say,” you watch as he chews on his bottom lip, lost in deep thought wondering how to explain himself, his expression tight and strained. 

You nod your head, giving him permission to speak. He runs his fingers through his hair with shaking hands as he lets out a low chuckle, “I believe now is the time to break my fingers.” He stares at you, shoulders slumped while doing so. 

You frown, “Why would I do that?”

“Because I broke our promise,” his head hangs low, unable to look you in the eye, “I wasn’t able to protect you.”

You thought for a moment, tilting your head, “I’m sorry Jimin but can you explain more?”

He nods, straightening his posture, “The night of the ball, after the criminals were apprehended,” he starts before carefully thinking of his next words, “there were spies in the area,” his voice low and tense.

Everyone freezes, as they process what he said. Spies? 

“There were spies in the area?” Jin asked, rephrasing the statement into a question as though it were a surprise as he leans on the table.

Just when you thought you had nothing else to worry about, here comes Jimin dropping a huge bomb on all of you. You begin to feel immensely anxious, as this has never occurred in the novel, but seeing how much you've managed to change the story from the original plot, you’re not entirely surprised. 

You clear your throat, stomach contracting into a tight ball, “can you please describe what happened?” you know this would only stress you out more, but you needed to know all the details.

Jimin bites his bottom lip, “I was watching the scene from above the dome ceiling, when I saw movement from the corner of my eyes,” he hangs his head low, feeling ashamed over his actions, “I was so immersed in the scene from below that I didn’t do my job correctly and only saw the spy at the last minute.”

He lets out a shaky breath before turning to you, his eyes brimming with tears, “They managed to escape, I’m sorry,” his voice cracking and tight. You want to go and soothe him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move at the sudden stab of anxiety in your gut.

The men stiffen at the sudden revelation, fidgeting in their seat as their eyes dart between everyone’s shocked faces around the circular table. 

“It gets worse,” Jimin adds in a low voice causing everyone to snap in his direction.

Jin lets out an exasperated sigh as he rubs his temples, “How could it get any worse than this?”

Jimin gives you all a weak smile, “There was more than one,” he confesses, voice edged with tension.

Taehyung chokes on his own spit, “What do you mean there were more than one?” His voice rose an octave in disbelief. 

Jimin’s lip grows thin and firm, he explains to the group how when he was chasing after the person, an onslaught of arrows flew past his head before he could even grab hold of the person’s cloak. Too many arrows at a time to be just one person. 

Namjoon groans, already feeling the uncomfortable ache in his head developing beneath his temples as he buries his head in his hands, “I thought once the drugs were dealt with, we’d have nothing major to worry about,” he raises his head, his tired expression showing, “now you’re telling me we have to deal with spies too?”

Taeheyung sighs tiredly, “took the words right out of my mouth,” he turns his head to you, “seems like her majesty has a lot of enemies.”

Truthfully, you knew many people opposed the empress, most of them were nobles who lost their power and authority when she began her reign. And for that reason, you’re unable to deduce the list to one person. You groan, slumping lazily on your seat as you lean against the chair. 

Hoseok’s mouth quirk upward, slightly amused at your posture, “could it be an old fling enacting their revenge? How many people have you been with again?” he teases as he leans on the table, an attempt to lighten the mood seeing how stressed you’ve become.  

You glare in his direction, not at all in the mood to laugh at any jokes, “mind your own business,” you grumble.

But the man only laughs as he grins back at you, “I’m not sure you’re aware of this, but you are my business, Y/n.”

This especially doesn’t go past Yoongi as his eyes widen by his statement, “Y/n?” he questions in disbelief. 

Jin looks up at Yoongi, eyeing his reaction, “her majesty gave Taehyung and Jungkook permission to address her by her name,” he explains, careful not to set the advisor off with his words, but he cocks a brow in Hoseok's direction, “although I was unaware she extended this to Hoseok.” But the said man only shrugs. 

You flinch when Yoongi and Jimin whirls their head in your direction, face unreadable as their hardened eyes stare you down. You clear your throat, straightening your posture as you stare at everyone, “well, I was actually planning on extending this to all of you at some point during this meeting,” you send them an uncertain smile, “guess now is as good a time as any.”

Jin raises a brow, “Really?” his disbelief evident in his expression. Though you give him a small smile, nodding your head in confirmation. 

Jimin’s breath hitches, “You’ll allow me to call you by your name, despite failing you?”

Your eyes soften in his direction, “Jimin you didn’t fail me, you saw the spies despite how dark it was outside and informed all of us. That’s more than I could ask for from you,” you reach your hand to wrap around his, squeezing it gently, “you did well, thank you,” you send him a reassuring smile.

You see his eyes becoming glossy as he looks away from your stare, sucking in a breath to compose himself before turning back to you. He squeezes your hand in return as the corners of his lips curve upward, more than grateful for your words.

Jungkook, who has been silently listening and observing this entire time, looks up hesitantly, “what do we do now?” 

Everyone in the room looks around, unsure of how to answer his question before you clear your throat, “we don’t know if there are more spies in the palace, I think all we can do is keep this to ourselves for now and just observe our surroundings more closely,” you suggest, watching as the rest of the men nod in agreement. 

“This is why you’re the empress,” Taehyung yawns as he stretches his arms above his head, feeling a lot more relaxed as compared to how he was just moments before.

Just then, Jimin stands up, gently pulling on your joined hands for you to rise on your feet as well. “I think that’ll be enough for today.” You watch as Jungkook and Taehyung stand up as well, preparing to leave.

Namjoon shifts in his seat as he stares at them incredulously, “We’re not done!” waving frantically at the countless documents on the table.

“I understand but there was a lot to process during this meeting,” Taehyung states, then points at you, “I personally believe her majesty should let off some steam.”

Instead of giving a snarky reply, Namjoon only groans as he waves you all off. Taehyung quirks a brow, “You surprisingly gave up a lot sooner than I expected.”

But the advisor just lets out a sigh as he gives him a bored expression, “it’s not like you’re going to listen to me no matter what I say, and frankly, I don’t have the energy left in me to make you all stay.” You can tell he was being serious as he stares at you all in a tired manner. Surprisingly, the rest of the men had similar expressions, you had thought Yoongi or Jin would put in their two cents, but contrary to what you expected, they remained silent.  

Taehyung winks, “glad we’re on the same page,” he salutes goodbye to the older males, “if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be taking our leave,” he moves to grab hold of your other hand as he begins to lead you three out the door. 

You tilt your head, you let them lead you out the room despite being confused over the situation, “What are we doing?”

Taehyung doesn’t turn around, but you can tell he’s smirking, “I was thinking we should do some training,” he starts, “seeing as how there’s spies we gotta worry about now.”

Your eyes widen as you stare at the back of his head, “We?”

You hear Jungkook snicker from beside you as he throws an arm around your shoulder lazily, “Yes, we are going to train.” His grin grew wider at the sight of your horrified expression.

Please have mercy on my soul.

You didn’t realize Taehyung was actually being serious about the whole training session, not until he ushered you into your bedroom calling for Joy to gather a change of lighter clothes that allows you to move more freely. And now here you are in the palace courtyard, absolutely dreading what was about to come. 

“Alright, who's going up against our dear empress,” Jimin claps his hands excitedly. 

In the next second, Jungkook raises his hand in the air, as Taehyung laughs and pats his shoulder, “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a volunteer.” Jungkook winks at you and you do your best to smile back at him, but if anything it came out more of a grimace. 

“I’m betting on Y/n,” Jimin suddenly calls out before pointing at Taehyung, “you’re stuck with supporting Jungkook.”

Taehyung stops walking as he furrows his eyes, “No fair! I had my bets set on Y/n from the beginning!” He whines loudly. 

Jungkok scoffs from beside you, carrying two wooden swords in his hands, “Should I be offended that none of you believe in me?”

But Taehyung just shrugs his shoulders, “You’re going up against the empress herself, can you really blame us?” 

“Fair enough,” Jungkook grumbles, almost as if he was already admitting defeat as he hands you your sword. 

You chuckle nervously, your palms beginning to sweat as you grip on the handle of the sword tightly, “I’m afraid you’re giving me far too much credit,” you joke to hide the fact that you were absolutely terrified when the sparring began. In any other situation, you would be drooling over Jungkook’s biceps, but at the moment, you can’t help but shiver in fear knowing he was strong enough to crush you in a second. At this point you’re desperately praying for muscle memory to finally come to your rescue.

Taehyung huffs, “fine, I’ll place my bets on Jungkook,” he grumbles at last, clearly upset over his current situation.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Gee thanks,” he replies sarcastically. “I wasn’t aware we were even betting money on this.”

Jimin smirks as he shrugs, “makes things more interesting, y’know.” 

Taehyung whips his head, staring at him incredulously, “Yeah for you! You’re betting on Y/n. You practically win by default!” Taehyung snaps before raising his palm in Jungkook’s direction, “No offense Jungkookie.”

“None taken.”

You shake your head, no longer fazed by their childish banters at this point, “How much are you even betting on,” raising a container, similar to a water bottle, up to your lips.

“50 gold coins.”

You spit out your drink, “50 gold coins?” you cough. During your first few days, you were curious to know the value of those gold coins, so you did a little research in the library. Apparently 1 gold coin was enough to feed an entire village for a month. Now they’re betting 50? “Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive for a measly bet?” your eyes widen as you switch between Jimin and Taehyung.

Taehyung nods as he takes your side immediately, “I agree 100% with Y/n.”

Jimin only rolls his eyes, “You’re only saying that because you’re betting on Jungkook,” he points accusingly.

“And you’re only happy about that cause you’re betting on Y/n!” He snaps right back at him.

Jimin pauses, “Well… I can’t argue with that.”

“See!”

Just then, Jungkook turns to you with a mischievous smile.

Oh no.

“Why don’t we make this even more interesting,” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows in your direction. 

You raise a brow, “I’m listening.” You know nothing good could come out of this, especially at the way he was looking at you.

He smirks, “why don’t we have a bet of our own. Loser fulfils one wish from the winner.”

You hum, before turning your attention to Jimin. “Team meeting,” you call out, gesturing to him to come to you.

Jimin raises a brow before laughing, jogging up to you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you huddle in your own ‘private’ space. 

“This bet seems kinda risky. You think I should accept it?”

Jimin nods his head seriously, “Of course. I wouldn’t have made a bet on you if I didn’t believe in you completely,” he scoffs before pointing behind him, “I mean look at the kid, does he really look like a hard person to beat?”

You nod, turning your head to eye him down, playing along with him, “You’re right, looking closer he’s really not all that.” 

“Guys I can still hear you.”

Jimin waves him off, “Ignore him, anyway I think you should take him up on this offer.”

“Got it. Alright, good discussion.” You two break apart as you look at the now glaring knight. “We’ve come to a conclusion, Jeon Jungkook, I accept this bet.” You stick your hand out, he smirks before you’re both shaking hands in agreement. 

You turn to look at Jimin as he gives you a thumbs up with a wide reassuring smile - your very own cheerleader. 

You turn your attention back to Jungkook, only for your eyes to widen into saucers when his abs make a sudden appearance. You were definitely not mentally prepared for this as the author never mentioned anything about articles of clothing being removed during training. Jungkook, having noticed your ogling winks at you, “try not to drool too much.”

You only roll your eyes, turning away, embarrassed you were caught staring, “not much to drool over.” Oh who were you kidding, his body was practically sculpted by the gods. And you're sure he knows this too, based on his reaction.

Instead of getting snarky or offended at your words, he only shakes his head with a low chuckle before smirking back at you.

Alright. You admit. That was kinda hot. 

You gulp nervously as he begins to stretch, his muscles flexing with every movement. At this point you just hope you make it out alive.

“Showoff,” Jimin exclaims loudly, now sitting on a nearby bench on the side. 

Jungkook smirks, “no need to be jealous hyung.” Making a show to flex his muscles even more in ridiculous poses.

Jimin only rolls his eyes before turning his attention back to you, “Y/n, do me a favor and beat his ass.”

You let out a chuckle, “I’ll do my best.” 

At this point, you four caught the attention of many passing knights and maids who were initially confused and curious about what was going on. But once they caught on to what was happening, many are now conveniently standing at a distance, pretending to do work when in reality they were anticipating this match just as much as Jimin and Taehyung.

Jungkook smirks up at you, “Ready to feel defeat?” A glint in his eyes screaming trouble.

You let out a huff of air as you stretch your arms and legs, “I’d like to see you try.” 

“What should we do regarding the rebellion?”

After the meeting, the three advisors stayed behind after you were seemingly dragged out by the younger boys out the room. Hoseok had to leave soon after as he needed to go do his daily routine of checking up on the knights training. And so that only left the three advisors to their own thoughts. 

“Well isn’t it obvious, we step down,” Namjoon states confidently. The three men grow silent as they take in the immense weight that statement holds. The realization that the rebellion that they’ve all planned meticulously for almost a year now, is about to come to an end. They knew stepping down meant finally admitting that the empress has returned and was no longer the tyrant they all detested. 

Jin looks around the room wearily, “let’s not speak here, we can talk about it another time,” he whispers. Although the room was quiet and desolate, he didn’t want to take any chances of anyone eavesdropping on their conversation. Especially if it was in regards to the rebellion now that spies were suddenly a problem, “And besides, Hoseok’s not here, we need to know where he stands in all this as well.” 

Namjoon nods his head understandingly, “I agree, I think all we can do now, is be careful of our surroundings and wait until we’re in a safe private area to discuss further.” All three men rise to their feet, collecting the documents before heading out the door. 

“You know hyung,” Namjoon starts, eyeing Yoongi as they walk down the halls, “I’m glad to hear that you reconciled with Y/n yesterday.” 

“Hoseok told us everything this morning,” Jin clarifies.

Yoongi hums, not looking at either men in the eye, “I wouldn’t necessarily say we reconciled completely as there’s still a lot to talk about.”

“Let’s hope that once all this get settled, we’ll all have time to properly speak to each other, I believe we all owe her that much,” Jin clutches the documents in his hands as his eyes narrow down at them, a painful reminder of their mistreatment towards the empress when she was being taken advantage of. Namjoon and Yoongi nod sadly, too ashamed of their past actions to look each other in the eye as a wave of guilt washes over all three of them. 

But they don’t dwell on that feeling for long when suddenly a small group of maids and knights shuffles quickly right past them, many buzzing with excitement as they make their way to what seemed like the direction of the courtyard.

All three men turn to face one another, immensely confused over the situation especially when they see more palace staff rushing past them. Curiosity got the best of them before they too began to follow the crowd. 

They could almost hear distant cheering as they followed the small group. The closer they got the louder the cheers became. When they rounded the corner, they were surprised to find a crowd of maids and knights huddled around the many windows that were now opened.

And they were especially surprised to find Hoseok being among the bunch. He notices the advisors immediately and waves them over, “C’mon you’re gonna miss the show!” Using his General privileges, he managed to snag his own window to himself to watch the show.

Namjoon raises a brow as he approaches the general, “Thought you had to go observe the knights?”

Hoseok chuckles, “I am,” he states as a matter of factly as he points around the area, “they’re all here.” Well they couldn’t deny that as it almost did seem as though every person present in the palace was at attendance. They wouldn’t be surprised if that actually was the case.

Yoongi winces at the loud cheers around him, “What’s going on?” They were even more confused than ever before as the palace has never been this active in all their years of staying there. 

Instead of responding, Hoseok only smiles and nods his head at the window. They all turn and simultaneously widen their eyes at the sight before them.

Jin lurches forward against the open window, “Is that her majesty?!” his eyes bulging out from their sockets at the way you and Jungkook fought, flinching at an especially hard blow that Jungkook gives you, only for you to retaliate with your foot against his face, “They’re going too hard on each other!” he then snaps his head to Hoseok, “Whose idea was-” 

“HIT HIM WITH THE OLD ONE TWO, Y/N!” Jimin cheers loudly, standing on the bench, throwing punches in the air.

“C’MON JUNGKOOK DON’T FUCKING EMBARRASS ME! I’M RISKING A LOT OF MONEY FOR SUPPORTING YOU!” Taehyung yells on the side, standing on the bench as well.

Jin deadpans, “Why do I get this feeling like I already know the answer to this question.”

Hoseok bellows loudly, “Because you probably do,” he pats his shoulder, “just enjoy the show hyung, Jungkook and Y/n aren’t going nearly as hard on each other as they would normally do in a real fight.” 

Namjoon nods as he leans against the window frame, “He’s right, believe it or not, they’re actually holding themselves back at the moment.” Jin sighs in defeat as he relents and faces the window, desperately hoping this whole thing would end soon.

A shaky breath escapes your lips, as Jungkook breathes heavily from across you. You were surprisingly holding yourself really well against the significantly larger knight, extremely thankful to see muscle memory coming into play as it almost seemed like your body moved on its own. And as a result, it was an exhilarating match between the empress and one of the strongest knights in the empire.

Loud cheers catch your attention as there is now a large group of guards and maids crowding around the area to watch the spectacle, while some maids and knights had a nice view from above through the open windows in the palace. It wasn’t every day they got to see the empress fighting, so they were definitely not going to waste this opportunity.

Jungkook wipes sweat off his forehead, the action catching your eye immediately, “Seems like her majesty is a crowd favorite.”

You chuckle back at him, “Probably cause they know I’m gonna win,” you tease with a wink. You know you’re probably an equally sweaty mess as well but neither one of you seem to mind in the slightest. 

Jungkook doesn’t back down as you see a slight smirk forming on his lips, “Don’t get too cocky now Y/n, I was going easy on you earlier,” he readies his stance, “Now, it’s the real deal.” As if proving his statement, he suddenly lunges forward with his wooden sword.

Miraculously, you managed to dodge his attack as you swiftly duck down and move to the side. This catches Jungkook off guard as he had expected you to block his attack at hand, not move away. You take advantage of this as you swing your legs against the back of his knees, causing the knight to stumble forward as he attempts to regain his posture. But you don’t allow him a second to breathe as you continue your attack by kicking his back, causing him to completely lose his balance and fall onto the ground. 

You hear multiple people squeal in delight over the move, especially the two loudest in the vicinity.

“OH YEAH THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN’ ABOUT!” Jimin cheers with his fists in the air. High-fiving a random knight who was equally as thrilled as him. 

Meanwhile Taehyung was pulling at his hairs in frustration, “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT JUNGKOOK? A COMPLETE DISAPPOINTMENT THAT’S WHAT!”

Jungkook rolls on his back and impressively kicks his feet in the air until he’s back standing. He whirls around to face Taehyung angrily, “You call that supporting?!”

“Kinda hard to support you when she’s clearly kicking your ass!” Taehyung snaps back at him. 

Jungkook turns his head around to face you when he hears you giggle, a faint smile on your face as your eyes lock onto one another. He raises a brow, “Her majesty thinks this is funny?” 

“Hilarious actually,” you smirk.

This time, it was you who made the first move, you lunged with your wooden sword, swinging it in the air aiming for his chest. Jungkook blocked this with ease, grunting as he roughly pushes you off him, only to give a swing of his own in your direction. 

Sucking in a breath, you quickly take a step further behind you, arching your back slightly, just barely dodging the tip of his sword before ducking down and swinging your sword from below.

But this practically does nothing either as Jungkook dodges your attack as well.

The two of you go at it for some time, neither one of you submitting to the other. There was no denying that Jungkook was an extremely talented knight. With the way his calculating eyes analyze your every move, almost predicting what your next attack would be, made it easy for him to defend himself. 

But the same could be said about you. You managed to defend yourself surprisingly well. Even having the strength to counter his attacks. A testimony to how the empress gained her position. 

Jungkook had long since lost his smirk as his narrowed eyes bore into you, now giving his full concentration in the fight. And with that he steps forward, you get ready to counter his attack, but instead of going for you, he aims his attack at your sword. And before you know it, your sword is thrusted into the air as Jungkook uses all his force for you to lose your grip. 

You widen your eyes as you look at the now smug knight before you. You raise a brow. So that’s how you wanna be? You smirk, two can play at that game.

In the next second, Jungkook swings his sword with precision, but you weren’t going to let him take advantage of you, so instead of dodging his attack, you eye the sword's movement and as if everything moved in slow motion, you somehow catch the wooden object right in between your hands.

Jungkook widens his eyes in disbelief. You take advantage of his momentary shock when you twist and throw his own sword to the side with ease.  

“If I can’t have my sword then neither can you.”

Jungkook chuckles as he clenches his fist, “fair enough.” He rolls his head, “I always did prefer hand-to-hand combat anyway,” and with that he takes a step back, before bringing his foot in the air aiming for your side. You dodge his attack, and retaliate with your own. 

The crowd watches with bated breaths as you two were a perfect match. Where Jungkook excelled in strength, you excelled in skill and swiftness. With his muscles, Jungkook could easily overpower you, but your nimble feet somehow managed to move before he could lay his hands on you, much to his annoyance.

“Stay still,” he says with gritted teeth, a drop of sweat falling down his face.

You let out a tired breath, “never,” you wheeze out, weaving your way out of his reach, successfully dodging his attack once more. 

You take a step forward, and with clenched fists you throw a punch aimed towards his stomach, but Jungkook catches your wrist and pulls you forward before turning your body around, wrapping his arms around your shoulder. His biceps successfully caging you in, rendering you motionless. 

“BOO HISS,” Jimin exclaims loudly, clearly not a fan of your current predicament. 

Taehyung only swats him away, suddenly feeling a surge of confidence over his friend, “C’MON JUNGKOOKIE!”

You feel his bare body pressed against your back as he tightens his hold. His head lowering until you feel his ragged breathing by your ear, “Ready to admit defeat my dear empress?” he whispers lowly causing shivers down your spine. You suck in a breath. Focus Y/n, now is not the time to fangirl.

You look down before smirking, “That would imply that you’ve beaten me, so no,” as disgusting as it sounds, your bodies covered in sweat allowed you to escape his viper-like grip by seemingly sliding out of his grasp. And in one swift movement, you turn your body to face him. He attempts to bring you back by grabbing your forearm, jerking you forward, but you use that momentum to your advantage by raising your knee towards his abdomen. 

Jungkook grunts upon impact as he stumbles backwards, you move to kick at his chest, but he catches your ankle mid-air and twists it, careful enough as to not sprain your ankle, but enough force to cause you to lose your balance. 

Your breath hitches as you suddenly find yourself laying flat on the ground. Jungkook, having composed himself after your hard blow, lunges forward, you roll away, successfully dodging his feet. But from your position on the ground, you widen your eyes as you notice something laying right beside your head. 

Though you don’t have much time to think when suddenly you feel a weight over you as Jungkook roughly turns you around and is now practically on top of you. His legs caging you in like an animal. Looking up, you find that he’s grabbed hold of his fallen sword and is now swinging it in circles calmly from above you. 

He smirks triumphantly, “Not going to lie, this is a very nice view,” he snickers as you glare up at him, “any last words before I win?” However, he stops short when he notices a smile forming on your lips. “What?”

You giggle mockingly, “you talk too much,” this time it’s your turn to smirk.

He furrows his brows until he feels something sharp poking him. Looking down, he’s shocked to find that you had managed to retrieve your wooden sword. Which, by sheer luck, was laying right beside your head on the ground and is now pointed directly at his stomach. In a real life scenario Jungkook would’ve died. 

And for that reason, you won.

Jimin is seen laughing his ass off as he too realized that the winner in this intense match was indeed you. While Taehyung looks absolutely miserable right beside him as he slumps down in defeat. The two friends expressing a wave of emotions, contrasting one another.

The crowd around you cheers loudly, the sound deafening as if the entire empire were present to watch the spectacle. 

Jungkook lets out a low chuckle as he finally admits defeat, “I should’ve known better than to think it would be that easy to beat you,” he states before looking down at you, “but no matter what it seems I can never outsmart her majesty.” 

You wink up at him, “better luck next time Jungkookie.” He only smiles softly down at you. 

But it’s only now do you realize the position you both were in. His body straddling yours, with his abs on full display right in front of you. You feel blood rush up to your cheeks at his almost predatory gaze, that you can’t handle it and turn your head away from the man on top of you. 

You swear you could see him smirk from the corner of your eyes before he shakes head and stands up. He offers you his hand, to which you gratefully reach for before he pulls you up to your feet. 

“I can’t believe you lost,” Taehyung whines as both he and Jimin begin to approach the two of you. You giggle at how disheveled Taehyung looked, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was the one fighting instead of Jungkook. You can only imagine the thoughts going through his mind with his stress level rising with each passing second. 

Though Jimin grins widely as he runs up to you with open arms. You widen your eyes, raising your arms in front of you, “W-Wait Jimin I’m sweaty,” but the boy doesn’t mind as he wraps his arms around your waist and twirls you around.

Jimin laughs, “I knew you could do it!” 

You giggle, the sound causing his heart to skip a beat. He widens his grin, finally putting you back down on the ground as he stares at you feeling proud. 

You beam back at him, “Thank you for believing in me,” you say sincerely.

His eyes soften as he smiles at you adoringly, “Always.”

“I would just like to clarify I believed in you as well,” Taehyung suddenly butts in, but Jimin pays him no mind as he waves him off.

Just then you suddenly hear clapping, turning around and you find Yoongi slowly approaching you four along with Namjoon, Jin and Hoseok trailing not too far behind him. Despite his calm demeanor, you can tell at closer inspection that he was fighting off a proud smile.

“Good job,” he finally speaks up when he reaches you. Your eyes widen, stunned before looking at his face, trying to confirm if what you heard was right. His cheeks glowing a tint of red when you don’t say anything. 

You grin at his sudden timidness, “thank you.” He nods before turning his head, suddenly feeling too shy to look you in the eye. But you don’t comment any more, more than grateful to see him making an effort to act nice.

The three older men finally join the rest of you. Jin lets out a sigh as he eyes both of your bodies being littered with bruises, “now did you two have to go that hard for you to get harmed like this?”

Yoongi scoffs just then, rolling his eyes, “oh quit your nagging old man, they look fine to me.” 

Jin lets out an offended noise as he snaps his head to look at him in disbelief, “old man?! Now you listen here-“

Hoseok shoves his way between the older males, successfully silencing the both of them as he grins at you, “that was an amazing show your majesty!” he grins, “when you’re up for it, I want a turn next,” he winks.

You let out a tired chuckle, “It would be an honor to go up against the great Jung Hoseok.” You two smile at each other, you know he was joking, but you can tell there was some truth to his statement. 

“Drinks on Taehyung!” Jimin suddenly announces with a wide grin. 

The said knight whirls around with comical wide eyes, “That wasn’t part of the deal!”

Jimin laughs tauntingly, “No, the bet was you give me 50 gold coins. And I’m going to use that amount to give everyone here a drink. Let’s party!” he pumps his fist in the air excitedly.

“Shouldn’t you ask Y/n for permission to hold a celebration,” you stifle a giggle at the way Taehyung’s pleading eyes meet yours. You can practically see his body language begging you to listen to his pleas. 

But if you’re going to be honest, with everything that’s happened, a moment to let loose and have fun was exactly what you needed. And you’re sure this is something everyone else would appreciate as well. And not to mention, your body being all bruised up was thanks to Taehyung’s brilliant idea to spar. So with that in mind, you give Taehyung a playful wink, turning to the crowd, “Drinks on Sir Taehyung tonight!”

Suddenly a second wave of cheers surround the area that you begin to think even the neighboring kingdoms could hear you. 

Taehyung’s jaw drops as the cheers around you seemingly grow louder. The rest of the boys were amused by the whole situation in front of them, reveling in seeing the usual cocky knight get beaten in seconds by one sentence coming out your mouth. 

“50 gold coins is nothing,” Yoongi hums, crossing his arms. 

Taehyung presses his lips together, narrowing his eyes into thin slits, “A knight's salary is drastically different to the empress’s advisors.”

But the older male shrugs his shoulders with a slight closed-lipped smile, “You’ll be fine. Thanks for the drinks,” he teases, his grin growing even wider at the young knight's apparent annoyed expression.

Namjoon eyes the bruises on your skin in concern, “I believe you should go off to the royal physician before anything else. I can’t have our empress showing up in bruises for everyone to see.”

Jungkook scoffs, “And what about me?”

“What about you?” Namjoon questions with a bored expression.

“I got all bruised up as well! Her majesty isn’t an easy opponent, you know?” as if to prove his point, he makes a show to dramatically point at every bruise, big or small, that you inflicted on him, “Am I not a priority either?”

Namjoon clicks his tongue in displeasure, “you are, but the empress’s health is more important than anything else, don’t you agree?” he asks with a raised brow, as if daring him to challenge his statement.

But Jungkook relents, not having it in him to deny his claim as he agreed to it wholeheartedly. Because to him, you were more important than anything in the world. But Jungkook, being as petty as he is, refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right. So instead he grumbles incoherently under his breath, but you swear you heard him mutter “dickhead” at some point in his rambling. 

You laugh loudly, immediately catching the attention of the men around you, their mood instantly brightening as they smile widely staring at you in adoration. 

This interaction surely doesn’t go unnoticed by the multiple pairs of eyes around you, as many maids swoon over the scene before them. The empress was surrounded by the seven men who were closest to her. They didn’t think it was possible to see them all together again but here you eight are, laughing and teasing as you’re all in your own little world, proving them all wrong. 

“For the record, I let you win,” Jungkook grumbles, pointing a finger towards you as you walk down the halls. After the crowd had dispersed, Namjoon and especially Jin had insisted you both visit the royal physician, neither man was going to take no for an answer, that much you could tell based on their stern expressions and posture. 

So here you are, standing beside Jungkook on your way to get your bruises treated. You can only imagine the look on the poor physician’s face when you two enter with sheepish grins. 

You giggle, “sure, just keep telling yourself that,” you tease as you nudge his arm.

“It’s true,” he pouts childishly.

“Then how do you explain all the other times you’ve been beaten by the empress, hmm?” You can’t help but tease him, especially when he was acting all high and mighty moments before the fight. 

Jungkook only rolls his eyes, “That’s cause i was being a gentleman who just wanted to make you happy.”

You scoff at his lame excuse, playfully pointing at a bruise slowly turning purple on your arm, “you call this being a gentleman?” But you regret saying that statement immediately at the crestfallen look on his face.

His eyes droop as he slowly reaches a hand and gingerly holds your arm in front of him, inspecting the bruises gently, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he utters softly, feeling immensely apologetic, “I just got way too competitive back there.”

You shake your head, smiling it off, “Jungkook I was joking please don’t worry. I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to this. If anything I think I should apologize to you for giving you this monstrosity.” You reach your hand out to gently soothe a rather large bruise on his abdomen in the area you kneed him. Jungkook freezes at your touch, gulping nervously when you caress the bruise absentmindedly.

Jungkook turns away in hopes of hiding his growing blush, “It’s really fine Y/n. I’ve been inflicted with far worse bruises before, this is nothing.” He insists calmly, a stark contrast to his racing thoughts. 

You let out a sigh of relief, “that’s reassuring.” You take your hand away much to Jungkook’s disappointment. 

He clears his throat, “Well since you won,” he playfully gags before laughing when you nudge at his shoulder, “what do you wish for?” 

You hum, only now recalling your small little bet from earlier, “Not sure,” you turn to him, “If you had won, what would have been your wish?” You were curious, he seemed to have been fighting with all his might that you were wondering what his wish was for him to exert so much effort. 

Jungkook stills, as if contemplating whether he should reveal his desires to you or not. You stop walking at the same time he did, now looking at him curiously. And after a few moments of thinking he made up his mind and turned to you. You suddenly feel anxious at his intense gaze. He still hasn’t said anything so you tilt your head, “Jungkook?” He blinks, “what was your wish?”

“I would’ve asked if I could kiss you.”

...

...What?

In an instant your eyes widen into saucers, in complete disbelief that he would actually confess to that. Neither one of you having the courage to speak as you just silently stare at one another.

He held your gaze, but he was slowly losing his confidence the longer you maintained eye contact. His ears turning a bright red as he’s slowly coming to the realization that yes, he indeed just blurted out his feelings like that. 

He hastily turns away, “I-I’m sorry I don’t know what came over me.” And he wasn’t lying, because he too wasn’t sure why he said what he said. In all his years of knowing the empress, never once did he harbor such romantic feelings for her as he looked up to her as one would to a sister. But for some strange reason, this past month he’s been looking at her in a different light. And he honestly has no idea why. Why was he feeling this way after knowing the empress for so long. What changed in the past month for this to happen?

“Do you want to hear my wish?” You finally speak up softly. 

Jungkook, though still blushing, nods his head, unable to meet your eyes. 

You give him a small smile, “My wish was to make you happy,” you turn to look away when he snaps his head in your direction, suddenly feeling embarrassed, “I know how you get when you lose, so I figured I could use my wish to make you happy. Because your happiness is also my happiness, Jungkook.”

You fidget with your hands as you continue, “So if you want me to fulfill your wish then I will.” At this point, you just wanted to dig yourself a hole and swan dive right into it. You can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth but it’s too late. You said it and now you can’t take it back. 

When he remains silent, face unreadable, you begin to stammer nervously, “b-but you don’t have to of course. There’s plenty of other things you could wish for if you-”

But you don’t get to finish your sentence as in the next second, you hear fast footsteps approaching, you raise your head only to suddenly feel a strong grip on your arms pulling you forward until soft pairs of lips land on yours.

You freeze at the sudden realization. 

Jungkook just kissed you.

A/N: Hey! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I feel like we had a lot of drama in the past few chapters. I wanted to have a slightly more light-hearted chapter so here it is!

Haha were you guys expecting Jungkook to be the first one to be kissed? Cause I initially had another member in mind, but ideas always change with me lol

Feel free to let me know what you guys think! 

And as always, thanks so much for reading and hope you all have a wonderful day! 🥰

Tagslist:  (those in bold, I’m not sure if it worked for you, I’m really sorry, I’m not sure how to fix it) (I also apologize if I forgot to add someone, just comment again and I promise to add you in the next one!!)

@reallysparklychaos, @unknownsageking, @casspirit0705, @fangirl125reader, @silscintilla, @serefara29, @chimtaesty-main, @xxqueenwxtchxx, @diamonddia-mond, @vishakhas-world, @purelyecstacy, @resticou, @woopetals, @magicsweetener, @splaterparty0-0, @daydreambrliever, @strangeobjectmaker, @luna-xial, @m0chilattae, @celaenaelentiyavox, @lindsayjoy444, @layzfeelit, @kimsaerom, @songtiddies, @untamedgrape, @sonnymii, @moonssuga, @kassandravictoria, @galaxyflab​, @blank-et-noir,  @nynhope , @midnight1199​, @yessii-i​, @protontippens​, @gguktings, @borahebangtan​, @katkrusade, @handsupanddropthepotato​, @missseoulite​, @cellula-staminale, @red-bow-tie3​, @whateveritis616​, @ggukkieland​, @sbroces​, @nnessworls​, @yoonieebear, @ssols, @totallynoanalien, @kaithezaftig, @seok-jinnies, @just-me-and-myselfs, @writingdust

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry XVI

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), pain/wounds, mild violence.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Barnes lashes out in his grief.

Note: So, it’s not over but most of you guessed that :)

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The sun cast a sardonic light on the cold winter morning. The first flakes of snow fell the night before but glistened as they melted away with the unexpected bloom of light on the horizon. The men began digging at dawn for the interment, a pit to be unmarked and unseen. The woman would be buried as any servant was; without any formality or fanfare.

Lord Barnes dressed in black, the sole attendee of the service. He had dragged a priest from the castle chapel to say some ordained words. The men climbed out of the six-foot hole as the cart was led over by two others, the wooden box atop it.

They lifted it, lifted her, and maneuvered it down into the grave with ropes. The holy man recited his verse but the duke did not hear them. He was only torn from his own grief as he heard footsteps on the crisp grass. He looked over as the foreign baron came to stand beside him, his dark eyes ahead of him as the men began to shovel dirt onto the wood. The sound was harsh in the early hour.

“Go,” Barnes growled, “you aren’t welcome here.”

“Well,” Zemo said, “how is that? After all Werner did for you; for her. I should like a proper farewell.”

“You didn’t know her,” Barnes hissed.

“Oh, I didn’t, but are you so sure that you knew her so well?” Zemo challenged, “you knew what you wanted from her--”

“Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Barnes lifted his chin and turned to face his foe, “I will not tell you to leave again.”

“I owe you no obedience, my lord,” he said flaty, “I think you’ve misunderstood that entirely. The ground we stand on is even. I am beholden to you for nothing. Given that it was my physician who saw to her comfort in her last hours, I’d say you--”

His voice was cut off by the hand at his throat. The duke throttled the Baron with his only hand and backed him away from the grave as the dirty continued to rain down. He marched him across the grass as his blue eyes burned with a selfish sort of hurt.

“I am not stupid. I know you came to rile me and you’ve done just that so go! Go before I put you down beside her,” Barnes shoved him away so that he stumbled.

Zemo stood and touched his throat as a rare glimmer of anger flashed across his features. He raised his chin and fixed the fur collar of his cloak. He nodded as he set his jaw and peered past the furious duke.

“She is free now,” Zemo said, “from you most of all.”

The baron turned away and strode from the green. The duke turned and watched the diggers as they kept at their work. A lump lodged in his throat and he lowered his head. He could not deny Zemo’s words, in fact, they sank so deep his heart ached. He knew as all did that her death was bloody on his hands.

🏰

Lord Barnes watched from the window as the line of carriages rolled through the castle gates. He was smug at the Baron’s premature departure but he didn’t truly feel any better than he had the day before. He expected the knock at the door and he was not surprised by who drew him away from the window.

The door opened before he reached it and his sister blustered into the chamber. Rebecca snarled as she came to face him, of the few who could match his own temper. Her nostrils flared and hardened her soft features as she glared at him.

“You’ve ruined it!” she spat, “you’ve ruined it all! He’s gone and it’s all your fault, you dunce!”

“I ruined it? You really think you could have trusted him? I merely saved you time and gold,” Bucky scoffed as he shrugged her off.

“You are so conceited. Don’t you realise we need this alliance? It’s much bigger than your little maid!” She barked, “oh, all this just to fu--”

“No, no! Shut up!” he spun and pointed at her face, “you don’t speak of her. Your or anyone else.”

She reeled and chortled. She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. She licked her lips sourly and shook her head, “Better yet, I will not speak to you again. You have until the end of the day to leave the capital.”

“Are you mad?”

“I’m serious,” her brows arched, “Samuel agrees with me. You will go and you will not return. Go back to your castle and be alone and bitter as you always wished.”

Barnes huffed and mirrored her own fury, “fine. I told you, I never wanted to come here.”

“So it is my fault now?” she snipped.

“No, your majesty,” he said dryly, “how could anything ever be your fault?”

“Don’t,” she warned.

“Oh, queen’s are so powerless,” he rebuffed, “how every woman in the realm must pity you.”

“You’re a bastard,” she sneered.

“We both share the same blood, the same flaws,” he slowly walked back to the window, “you will see in the end that I did you a favour. That man cannot be trusted.”

“Oh, do get over yourself, brother,” Rebecca snapped and the slam of the door marked her exit.

Lord Barnes stared down at the wintery grounds then up at the grey sky. It was due time he went home. To be alone. For good this time.

🏰

Flickers of light skimmed beneath your eyelids. Distant memories, dwindling dreams, and unheard words. 

The pain came first. The agony down your left arm and hip, the way it rippled through you like a crashing ocean against the shore. The ragged breaths grew to groans as the ground moved beneath you, rattling like your bones and your head. The noise of horses and wooden wheels in the dirt. The smell of leaves and oak. The feeling of life come back to you.

You could not move your left arm, it was bound and even if it was not, you couldn’t have lifted it. Your left leg was in similar shape and your entire body was bound in pain. The confusion laced your mind and kept you from thinking too deeply as you realised you were in a box, the darkness broken only by the thin wisps of light between the hammered boards.

“Hello?” you called, your throat dry and sore. It hurt to speak and your lungs squeezed terribly.

You bent your right arm, your shoulder straining as you did, and hit the lid. It did not budge and you hit it harder. Your uncertain strikes turned to a steady and frantic pounding as the blackness began to suffocate you. You had to get out. You would die in there. Or were you already dead. You realised what you lay in; a coffin, and your stomach dropped like a boulder.

The wheels stopped and the ground stilled. You were on a cart of some sort and footsteps tramped into the dirt and murmurs stirred outside. There was a thump on the lid and suddenly it lurched upward as it was pried off. 

Swathes of light flowed in and blinded you. You stilled and stared up as a figure stood above you and another appeared at the other side of the casket.

“Ah, finally,” the accented tone slithered, “I feared the dose was mistaken.”

You blinked until Baron Zemo came clear to you and shielded your eyes as they watered. You gasped as another shattering pain overtook you and gasped at the sheer torment. The other man, thin and tall with lines around his eyes and across his forehead peered down and reached to check the bandages around your left arm.

“She cannot sit in the carriage but we can arrange for her to recline in there, yes, my lord?” he asked as he felt your forehead, “there is no fever. She is past the worst of it.”

“We can arrange it,” Zemo nodded, “do get her a blanket. We really should have done so before we nailed the top on.”

“Yes, my lord,” the tall man hopped down from the cart and returned with a thick fur coverlet. Zemo tucked it gently around you and as he brushed your arm, you cried out.

“I… I should be dead,” you rasped, “how--”

“A trick. On the gods, on fate… on your Lord Barnes,” Zemo smirked, “oh, do not fear, he hasn’t any idea of your miraculous perseverance. Let me assure you he is most miserable to believe you dead.”

“Why?” you asked as the lid of the coffin was moved away and you heard others moving around. The stench of the horses made you shudder and brack back the scene; the clopping hooves, the roaring crowd, the pulsing of your heart, your maddened laughter.

“You know, I never desired anything more from Lord Barnes. What happened between us was an act of war. We were soldiers but he could not see it that way. I am an understanding man but I am not without reason. If he cannot be civil, why then should I?” He said smoothly, “I came to your kingdom to serve my own and I cannot do that with him snapping at my throat, so I will go home.”

“But why--”

“Patience,” he bid as he lifted a gloved hand, “I could not have factored you in if I tried. You are the most unexpected creature. What you did… well, that sent a very clear message to me, one that I heard.” He looked around and clasped his hands together as he leaned his elbows on his knees, ”I will not claim it to be entirely selfless in my deed, in fact the idea of the deceit does more for me than it could ever do for you. To think of Lord Barnes in his misery, that pompous man.”

“What--Where are we going?” you asked weakly as the wariness crept up on you once more.

“The Tower Zemo,” he said plainly, “in my homeland. You should recover there and then we will decide what to do with you.”

“What to--”

“Nothing too nefarious, I assure you. I should like to avoid the depths of Barnes…” he sniffed, “I don’t expect you to trust me, lady, you would be a fool to and you do not seem one to me. Foolishly brave and perhaps obstinate but not a fool.”

“I--how am I to thank you?” you croaked.

“Don’t do that just yet,” Zemo rose as men approached and suddenly the coffin was slid off the cart.

You were carried around the side of a carriage and set down again. The men worked carefully to remove you from inside the casket and you screamed as they did. Zemo spurred them on and apologised for your discomfort as they transferred you to the lid of the coffin placed to stretch between the seats of the carriage.

The tall man draped the fur over you again and checked your splints and the layers of bandage hidden beneath the loose wool gown. He called for some water and helped you drink. Then he was handed a chest and stirred around for a vial.

“This is Werner,” Zemo said as he sat on the empty part of the bench and the carriage door shut, “he did see that you survived and that you died in the eyes of your master.”

“Oh… thank you,” you looked to Werner as he urged you to drink from the vial.

“Just a sip, miss, for the pain,” he bid.

You did as he told you and reclined again with a grumble. He sat opposite Zemo who watched you with a cryptic expression.

“It will be a long journey,” he said, “and likely longer for you. It would be best if you kept calm and did not stress yourself. You are still… fragile.”

“I feel it,” you closed your eyes as fatigue shrouded you.

“You would,” Zemo said, “sleep is best for it, isn’t that so, Werner?”

“Sleep numbs the pain,” Werner assured, “sleep lets the body heal itself.”

“And sees the time through,” Zemo yawned, “besides, what else is there to do?”

Your breath eased along with the pain and slowly you sank back into the void. You let it embrace you as you forgot about the Baron and his odd physician, about the Duke and the life before. You welcomed sleep as you had death and yet, you were relieved to be alive.

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 14: Loss

Written by: The Maribat Pit  @jasonette-july-event Prompt: Loss Rated: T (Presumed Major Character Death) Based on the trailer for the upcoming Gotham Knights game: https://youtu.be/IhVf_3TeTQE (TW: flashing images towards the end of the trailer)

Jason is walking home on a rainy night in Gotham after a long day working with Roy.  He was hoping to quickly get back home to his girlfriend and relax for a few days. He felt his phone vibrate, he took it out from his pocket to see it was a call from Batman. The words “Incoming Transmission: Code Black” were written boldly across his screen. Jason had a bad feeling about this. He walked into a nearby alley and looked around to see if he was truly alone before taking this urgent call.

He was unsure whether to pick up the call or not, his relationship with Bruce had been strained ever since he was killed by the Joker and came back as the Red Hood. Even if they had reconciled, they still argued and disagreed with one another.  This was probably him asking if he was willing to go undercover again like he had done with Black Mask.  He continued to stare at the phone, thinking of all the possible reasons that Bruce may have wanted to call him. “What is Code Black?” He thought to himself as he answered the call.

His phone sparks to life with the image of Bruce, Jason immediately knew something was wrong. Bruce never showed his face in any Bat related communication. “If you’re watching this, I’m dead.” Jason could not believe what he was seeing, he barely registers the rest of the message. Thinking back to how he first met Batman, trying to steal the wheels off the Batmobile. To him, Batman was invincible, invisible and unstoppable. After all his training as Robin and even after his return as Red Hood, a small piece of him had felt that Batman could not be beaten. He had watched Batman face aliens from outer space and gods from another world. Knowing that Batman was well and truly gone felt...impossible.

He slowly trudges home, his vision blurs as he slowly makes it home on autopilot. He enters his apartment, not even taking his wet clothes or shoes off. Marinette hears him walk in, “Welcome home Jay, I made boeuf bourguignon.” Jason doesn’t even notice her, and in that moment she knew something wasn’t quite right. Normally Jason would joke about how it was a miracle nothing was burning, it could happen, given how clumsy Marinette was.  He slowly drags his feet to the living room and slumps on the sofa, his head in his hands. Marinette peeks her head around the corner, looking visibly concerned.  

Marinette slowly walked to the sofa and sat next to Jason, putting a hand on his thigh. “Jay?” she quietly asked.

Jason’s voice begins to crack “He’s gone, I can’t believe it, he's really gone.” He lifts his head up to look Marinette dead in the eye, “Mari, Bruce is gone.”

Marinette gasps, she had heard the news report but she didn’t think it was true.  She had assumed it was the start of an elaborate ruse, but the look in Jason’s eyes told her otherwise.  Marinette knew Jason and Bruce’s relationship was complicated, but he was visibly hurt and shocked by the news.  Jason wanted a lot of things, he never really wanted Bruce to die, not like this anyway. If that were the case he would have gone through with his plan of blowing up the Batmobile, all those years ago.  Marinette reached up to gently wipe a tear from his face, he held her hand close to his face before she could pull it away.  It was the first of many that would be shed at that moment.

For so many years, before and after he died, Jason wanted Bruce to understand him.  He seemed like a pointy-eared brick wall at times, he never thought there would come a day when it would fall.  Batman had almost seemed untouchable, even when Bane broke his back, he came back stronger than any of them.  Marinette gave a startled little squeak as he pulled her close to him, before wrapping her arms around him. He pulled away slightly but her face was still very close to his, he ran his thumb along her cheek as she leaned into his touch.  He savoured the warm softness beneath his fingertips.  His teary eyes looked into hers for a moment, before he leaned in close to kiss her.  At that moment, he needed to feel the warmth that radiated off of her.  He needed to hold her close to him, he needed to know that she was really there, and not just a cruel fleeting dream.  

Marinette was surprised, in the years that she had known him this wasn't a side of Jason that she had seen before.  There was a feeling of desperation in that kiss, one that only Marinette was privy to.  Whenever Jason kissed her in the past, sometimes it was passion, sometimes with a gentle softness, and other times because he took a certain delight in making her blush.  This time there was passion, but almost never with the desperation and anguish he felt at that very moment.  By contrast, Marinette was a lot more trusting, more forgiving, more optimistic.  It was something that Jason didn’t take lightly, especially considering the person he was by comparison.  With the Kwamis' help, she had seen him through his bouts of pit madness.  Nevertheless, when the kiss broke, she was breathless for a moment, but she didn't pull away.   She rested her forehead against his, brushing aside the occasional tear from his eyes.

For the rest of the night Jason continued to hold Marinette close to him, his chest heaved with sobs every so often. Even with his complicated relationship with Bruce, he was still the one who adopted, taught and cared for this street urchin of Gotham. As the two held each other, Jason’s phone began to ring, displaying Nightwing’s blue bird symbol on screen. Jason took out the phone and looked to see who was calling. He stared at the screen, unsure how to talk to Dick after the loss of Bruce. He looks back to Marinette, ”answer it” she told him with a gentle smile, he needs to be with his family now.

Jason took a deep breath and answered “Hello?”

He could hear Dick’s voice, unusually hoarse on the other end “Hey Little Wing, you saw the message didn’t you?”

Jason solemnly responded “Yeah. I got his message.”

“We need you Jason, just as Bruce said, Gotham needs its guardians. We’re all here at the Belfry. Babs, Tim, Steph, even Duke and Cass. Are you with us?” asked Dick.

Jason looks back to Marinette, who then nodded to him with a smile and mouthed “Go.”

He turns back to the phone, “I’ll be there in an hour, Ladybug can handle things here”.

As he ends the call and stands up from the sofa, Marinette puts a hand to his chest and lifts a finger, signaling to wait just a moment before running to the bedroom. She returns with two wrapped presents, “They were meant for your birthday next month, but...I think you need it now more than ever.”

She places the two boxes next to Jason, and asks him to open them up. Jason picks up the first box, slowly unwrapping to reveal new body armour. His eyes widen, he runs a hand across the large red bat symbol on its chest.

“Mr. Fox and I worked on this for you, he may be an excellent inventor but he lacks a tailor’s touch.” she explained. Taking out a cue card from the gift box, Marinette clears her throat and begins reading from it. “The tri-weave bodysuit consists of an outer and inner layer made from a titanium-dipped tri-weave fiber mesh.”  Marinette tried to read the words with some confidence, despite the fact that English was her second language. She wasn’t even sure if English speakers understood what these words meant. “Sandwiched in between is the MR-fluid based liquid armor system. The proprietary WayneTech Smart MR-fluid hardens in response to impacts, specifically designed to provide superior shock absorption.” As she read the cue card, Marinette thought working these materials into the design was challenging enough, never mind having to list out what they were for.  Still, not everyone had her magical super suit, so she never really thought about how a normal human would have to shield themselves.  Judging by the smile growing on Jason’s face, clearly she was reading some things right. “The liquid body armor layer is also more flexible than the ceramic or fiber-based armour, allowing for greater maneuverability.”  Marinette took a breath and gently placed the cue card back into the box, “I hope you understood those words, because I didn’t” she joked, and for the first time since he’d come home she saw Jason smile. “I also modelled it after your favourite hoodie for maximum comfort.” Saying the last two with emphasis as if it was the most important thing when it came to armour.

Jason chuckles, “This is perfect Pixie, thank you.” As he stands up to give her a hug, she stops him and gestures to the other gift. As he opens the second box he sees within a new Red Hood helmet. “Same materials as your suit. Light, breathable and comfortable.”

Jason picks up the new helmet and begins inspecting it from all angles. He is curious about the black embellishments around the vision slits of the helmet. “Hey Pixie, what's with the dark eye rings?” he asks, turning his head to face her.

She gives him a wink “Red Hood with a pinch of Ladybug.”

Jason places the helmet down and goes to the bedroom to change into his new armour.  Tikki zooms over and both of them give each other a firm nod. If Jason was putting his trust in Marinette to hold the fort here, there was no way she was going to let him down.

[stanknotstark]

Coming Out (Loki Edition)

Thank you @bokunoluv​ for requesting this because it was A LOT of fun to write 😊 I only hope it lives up to your expectations! I can totally write something else with more fluff if it wasn’t enough but i wrote what I felt came natural for this particular story! 

You’re not really sure when it dawns on you that you’re bisexual. It just kind of happens. You don’t make a choice it just kind of unfolds in your mind that you’ve always been but now you can label it. 

Thing is, you’re dating Loki and you’re not sure how to tell him. You don’t think he’ll judge you or anything, hell Loki had told you some of his exes have been male, hell even different species that didn’t exist on Earth. So, no, he won’t judge you but it’s still something big, special, and you felt it deserved to be said not with flare, that wasn’t your style, but it should be acknowledged. 

You’re sitting with Loki enjoying a late dinner because he had just come back from Asgard after a week of being gone. You totally hadn’t stolen clothes from his room and slept with them on a pillow like you were cuddling him, psh. 

You begin playing with your food a bit nervous, pushing the vegetables around.

“What bothers you, darling?” Loki asks, putting his fork down and grabbing your free hand on the table. 

You take a deep breath through your nose and look at the god. You open your mouth then close it. This didn’t feel like the right time. 

“Nothing important right now, how was your father?” You ask knowing that relationship is a bit strained.

Loki frowns at you but truly realizes you don’t want to talk about what bothered you and lets it go. 

“He is....he is good. We had a talk after mother trapped us in a room, for two hours might I add, and demanded we talk things out otherwise she would have Thor smite us both.” Loki chuckles, he looks at the table with a fond look in his eye, his thumb caresses the top of your hand. Obviously the talk went well which makes you happy for him. 

“While things aren’t completely better, things are definitely getting better between us.” Loki says, looking back up at you and giving a small smile. 

You smile back and flip your hand to hold his. “I’m really happy you’re working through things. I’m proud of you.” You say.

Loki practically puffs up at you saying you’re proud of him, something he hasn’t heard often. 

You’re kind of happy you didn’t tell Loki right now, you really don’t want to step on his moment. 

You both finish dinner in a comfortable silence and retire to Loki’s bedroom at a reasonable hour. 

By the time it gets pulled up again, a few days have past. 

This time you’re walking the streets of New York city with Loki, holding hands. 

While you only have eyes for Loki you both had agreed that you wouldn’t get jealous if either of you appreciated someones beauty. 

So, when you’re both walking the street and pass a woman who is no doubt some type of model you whistle and glance at Loki, tugging his hand to get his attention. Loki looks down at you then in the direction your nod to and sees the woman. 

The woman in question is all legs and olive skin. Her hair is pitch black and flows down her back till it stops at her wide hips that are covered in some daisy dukes. When she looks up at someone she’s with her eyes are a deep, chocolate brown that someone could probably lose themselves in. Her whole demeanor oozes with confidence, she knows she looks good. 

Loki hums thoughtfully and nods. 

“A fine specimen, good catch sweetheart.” Loki says to you. 

You smile as you both pass the woman but as you step past her you realize you pointed out a woman and feel a little defensive. Loki obviously notices your tension and frowns down at you.

“What has happened?” He asks, squeezing your hand in a way of demanding you look at him. 

You follow his demand and look at him. “I just-I didn’t-Nothing, I’m fine.” You finish lamely, looking away from Loki.

Loki stops walking and you’re forced to stop too seeing as you’re holding his hand. You stand a little in front of him so Loki pulls on your hand till you’re standing right in front of him, looking at the ground while rubbing your arm with your other hand. 

“Darling.” Loki whispers, the word almost swallowed by the city that thrums with life around you both but you hear it. Loki then uses his free hand to tilt your chin up and have you look at him. 

“Tell me what bothers you, you’ve been hiding something from me for the past few days and I can feel it eating you alive. Please tell me?” Loki begs of you, something new that makes you realize Loki truly cares because Loki does not beg. He finds begging to be a commoner’s practice and finds himself above it.

“I do have a secret but now isn’t the time to tell you.” You say with sad eyes, glancing around at the people walking past you, at the cars passing you both in the street, at the public thriving around you. 

When you look back to Loki his purses his lips but nods and starts walking again, you naturally follow him. Things stay a little tense for the rest of the day between you two but you appreciate Loki pretending everything is fine. 

Later on, when you’re both laying in bed, you lay splayed over Loki’s chest, your favorite position, and he has one of his arms wrapped around your waist, the other trailing up and down your back with light touches.

“Thanks.” You randomly say into his chest that rises and falls, a calming effect to you. 

“For what?” Loki asks, looking down at the top of your head. 

“For not pushing me, earlier.”

You know Loki knows what you’re referencing because he says, “I hope you know you can tell me anything, darling, I am the last person in your life that may judge you for anything. Do not fear to tell me your fears and concerns, we will work at them together. You are never alone.” Loki finishes with a kiss to your forehead. 

You accept the kiss and sigh, relaxing almost to a puddle in Loki’s arms. 

“I will in time. I’m just looking for the perfect moment.” You tell him, looking at him through your lashes. 

Loki squints at you but nods and lays his head back down on his pillow. 

“Sometimes the perfect moment comes when you least expect it.” Is all he says to you. You leave the conversation at that and give him a small good night which he answers by tilting your head to give you a proper kiss then lets you get comfortable around his body and fall into a deep, happy sleep. 

The whole thing isn’t brought up again until you’re in the middle of an argument with Loki. 

“It was rash, what you did, and I will not stand by and watch you risk your life like that!” Loki says strongly, not quite yelling but you know he’s close to it. 

“Then don’t watch me! I cannot watch as some innocent life gets killed when I know I could do something to save them!” You yell because Loki doesn’t ever understand your love for all life. 

“Their life is not worth yours!”

“You don’t get to decide whose life is worth anything, that is not your choice to make, it is only my choice because it is my life!”

“Are we not together? Are you not mine? Because if you are to be involved with me, that makes your life mine to watch over!”

“You do not own me!” 

Loki grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

You stand a few feet away your hands balled into fists at your sides, your eyes wild with fire. 

“I am not sure what is going on with you recently, first you keep secrets, stating you need the perfect moment but it has been a week and that moment has not come, I’m not sure it ever will! Now you throw your life around like there are not people who care about you, like I can live on normally if I lose you!” Loki yells out, his hand dropping to his side and his eyes burning with fear and hurt as they glare at you. 

You stand there breathing, trying to calm your hurt at him not trusting you, trying to not cry in front of him. Instead you let out an upset chuckle and look away from the god. “So much for trusting me.” You say, through grit teeth, before turning and going to make your way to the elevator. 

Loki grabs your wrist in a quick move. “Darling, wait, please, I do, I trust you,” Loki says to you who refuses to even look at him you’re so hurt from his words. “I trust you’ll tell me, I did not mean those words but I’m hurt and do not know what to do to make you realize you can tell me anything.” Loki finishes, his other hand that’s not holding yours right now comes up to turn you towards him but instead hesitates and drops back down to his side. 

You bite your lip hard, your tears are welled up in your eyes and you’re doing everything in your power to stop them from falling. 

“Just-” Your voice breaks, “-give me some time alone, please?” You beg of Loki, still not looking back at him. 

Loki lets go of your hand and you rush to the elevator. A single tear falling before the doors can shut completely. 

You spend hours on the roof telling yourself to go down and talk to Loki. Just tell him what you’re hiding. God, all you have to say is that you’re bisexual, it should not have gotten this dramatic. You pace the roof as you cry, furiously wiping at the stupid tears that fall. 

When you do make your way down to Loki’s room he is sitting on the floor in front of the single floor to ceiling window in his room. His knees are drawn up and his arms encircle them, his chin resting on top of his knees. When you enter he doesn’t look at you. He’s obviously hurt and doesn’t want to let it out on you more. 

You stand in the doorway for a few minutes deciding about how to go about fixing what’s happening right now. You decide words probably aren’t the best thing to work with and make your way over to Loki. When you stand behind him you hesitate but then grab him under the arms and pull up in a silent demand for him to stand. You’re shocked but he follows and stands. You then turn him around to look at you. 

You’re sure you look a hot mess right now, blotchy face, red nose, wild hair from pulling at it, but you don’t care, you care about taking care of Loki right now. He looks down at you with blank eyes and a blank face. So you give him a sad smile and go to his dresser to fish out some of his pjs. When you’ve found a pair of shirt and pants for him you come back to Loki and undress him. 

It’s a little concerning that Loki lets you push and pull at his body as if he doesn’t have any autonomy over his body right now. When you’ve dressed him you move him to the bed and lay him under the covers. You undress yourself into your bra and panties, not wanting to leave the room for anything, and crawl into bed with him and snuggle into him. 

Loki lays flat on his back, he silently watches as you get comfortable around him. Your head is resting in the crook of his neck, one arm under the pillow Loki’s head lies on, the other resting on his chest. Your legs are tangled in his by the time you’re truly comfortable. 

Loki doesn’t move, doesn’t touch you causing you to softly sob in his neck. 

“Please, please hold me, Loki, I’m so sorry.” You beg of him.

This causes Loki to jerk and he finally wraps his warm arms around you, tightly. As he hugs you to him he whispers, “I thought I had lost you.” His voice wavers as he says this. 

You swallow air, breathing in the smell of him to calm down in the crook of his neck. “Never. I just needed some time to think.” You explain quickly, your own voice trembling. 

Loki squeezes you into his body, nearly making you breathless. “I love you,” Loki says softly, “I love you so much.” He says more firm.

You hiccup and pull from his neck to look at him. You always expected yourself to be the first to say it. 

You laugh, sadness tinging the sound of it but you’re anything but sad. “You have atrocious timing.”

Loki laughs with you at this.

“But I love you too.” You say it back with heart, pulling Loki’s mouth to yours. The kiss is messy, your undried tears make it wet and you both kiss with a passion that causes it to be a little sloppy but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

The day finally comes where you can tell Loki. 

You’re both cuddled up on your bed watching Mr. and Mrs. Smith. You’ve always had a thing for Angelina Jolie, while Brad is hot you would pick Angelina over him any day. 

You’re both sitting up with thousands of pillows strewn across, between, and on top of you both at the headboard of the bed. Loki has his right arm wrapped behind your waist, his hand idly caressing your hip under your shirt. His left hand rests on his lap, occasionally picking at the popcorn resting between both your legs. You sit with your left arm wrapped around Loki’s waist, your right stretched across your body to rest on Loki’s thigh. 

The scene playing out is when both Angelina and Brad are trying to kill each other in the house with palpable sexual tension.

“I would totally let Angelina go down on me.” You let out, randomly.

Loki hums delightfully, “I would love to watch that.” 

You giggle a little then say it. “Loki, I’m bisexual.” It comes out naturally. 

Loki looks down at you and smiles when you turn to look back at him.

“I know, sweetheart.”

“What?” You say a little shocked.

Loki chuckles. “Before we started dating I would catch you appreciating women’s physiques, not to mention that really flirtatious conversation you had with Natasha when Thor let you try Asgardian mead.” Loki explains. “I almost thought I would lose you too her.” He adds as an afterthought. 

“I didn’t-” You frown at Loki then realization dawns on you. “Oh.” Is all you can get out. 

Loki actually laughs, heartily enough to throw his head back a bit as he does. 

“You cannot lie to the god of lies, darling. Not to mention, because you were so oblivious about yourself being something other than straight you made yourself very obvious to everyone.”

“Wait, everyone knows?” You ask Loki, your voice jumping a little as you try not to laugh. A little shocked at how comfortable you are with this.

Loki continues smiling and says, “Yes. Natasha and I found out first, everyone else followed not long after,” Loki squeezes you to him, glancing at the TV to watch what’s going on for a second but looks back at you, “Was this the secret you’ve been trying to find the time to tell me about?” 

“Yes.” You say blushing hard, looking at the TV. Telling him seems so small now, not in an insignificant way but in a way that maybe you made the secret bigger than it truly needed to be. 

Loki makes a noise of acknowledgment and grabs your chin to make you look at him. 

“In this case, I suppose my magic will be handy now.”

You start to question what he means but then Loki has been enveloped by green then you’re looking into Loki’s eyes however he’s a gorgeous woman.

Your mouth opens a little, stunned, and Loki uses this to pull your mouth to hers and let her tongue explore your mouth with a smooth move. You can’t help it, you moan into her mouth and make Loki smile into the kiss. 

“Oh, darling, the things I will do to ravish you in this form,” Loki says after pulling from the kiss, you whimper at the loss of tongue but your eyes brighten with all the possibilities, “I will show you just what it means to be with a woman.” Loki finishes in his, now, light, feminine voice. 

You throw the bowl of popcorn across the room, not caring about the mess it makes causing Loki to laugh. Then move in a way that makes you straddle Loki’s lap, movie conveniently forgotten. As you look down at her bright green eyes and beautiful feminine face you smile and say, “You better hold yourself to those promises, my queen.” 

Loki’s eyes flutter from your lips and eyes, going a bit breathless, and shivering at your new nick name for her. She smirks up at you when she gains her confidence again, making you feel powerful that you have this affect over Loki. 

“I never break a promise, love.”

[twisted-art-wounders]

YGO AU Leviathan Rising

An in coming storm approaches as everyone has their sights set on Paradus HQ.

Chapter 17 Tempest

After returning form Kaiba Corp Headquarters Yugi and Kaiba where informed about Leviathan's visit and battle with Joey. Joey had gone to Paradus on his own while Tea and Tristan had gone to follow him.

“Leviathan?” Yami Yugi asked a bit confused.

“Yeah he said he's the god of the Orichalcos, and get this he looked almost exactly like Yugi...” Duke said.

Yami Yugi's eyes widened in fear “They stole his form...”

Those monsters are using him like some kind of puppet! We have to go there and free Yugi form their control!” Rebecca shouted a few tears threatening in the corners of her eyes.

“I don't understand...it sounds like the Orichalcos God is close to him? But why would they use Yugi 's soul like this?” Yami Yugi said 'especially if they wanted my soul...' he added in his mind.

“I have a theory about that...” Professor Hopkins spoke up form the RV's door. “You see from what I could decipher from the ruins; It seems their god cannot be properly resurrected into this world without a gate way and a number of sacrifices to build it's strength. I believe their God is stuck in between realms and to properly anchor itself here long enough to receive it's power it requires a 'host' native to our world in order to properly ground itself.”

“So they where going to use the Pharaoh's soul to do that?” Rebecca asked

“Perhaps, but I think they where going to use the Pharaoh's soul to feed their beast but when they got Yugi's soul instead I believe they changed their plans. Because Yugi is already a host to the pharaoh's soul they must have chosen him to host the Leviathan because his soul would be powerful enough to hold the beast. ” Professor Hopkins looked over to Yami Yugi who looked down a bit upset by this.

The professor was hesitant to say it but he knew he had to “There is one last thing...” Everyone looked over to the professor again “I believe the longer Yugi's soul stays attached to their god the harder it will be to separate them, he and the god will merge into one being entirely and he may very well loose his humanity all together.”

Everyone was shocked by the news, Rebecca was shaking “Grandpa are you saying Yugi will never be human again?!”

“I'll free Yugi before that happens! I wont let DOMA change him!” Yami Yugi looked at his hands as he made a fist. 'Hold on Yugi...'

--

Mai stormed through the halls of Paradus, it was empty and dark not another soul in site. She'd just gotten what she wanted from her duel with Joey, she won she finally proved to herself she could escape the fears that loss can bring. But she was so blinded by her anger and frustration and fears, she failed to notice who she was hurting. She was hurting herself and her friendship with Joey, one of the few people on this earth who she really felt really made her believe she was not be alone. But the Oricalcos- no Dartz tricked her! He made her think that Joey was her enemy and by defeating him she'd get what she wanted.

But once she held him in her arms as his soul left his body, that was when she truly opened her eyes and could see the truth. Now she had to make things up to him...to Valon...to everyone she hurt and best place to start was right at the top! She burst her way into the main board room it was empty expect for one lone figure.

“I don't have business with you Raphael! Where's Dartz? I'm going to take him down with my own power! I don't need Doma or the Oricalcos power anymore!” She shouted “I'm going to make it up to Joey and Valon! And I'm going to free Yugi form whatever spell you freaks placed on him!”

Raphael glared at her and replied

“You should know you're place Mai. You're nothing more then a sacrifice to the Great Beast.”

“What?”

“You're role is over. Do you seriously think you can stand up to Master Dartz or Leviathan?” he chuckled a little. “The Leviathan will not release his host, and the souls of both Valon and Joey will be used in his resurrection along with your own.”

'Host?' she thought, she knew something was wrong with Yugi when she had her encounter with him in the hallway. A part of her knew he wasn't himself, she knew the Oricalcos had something to do with his transformation but a host? This was getting out of hand.

“And you don't think you're next? Dartz is using you just like he's been using all of us! You're just as much a puppet in his game!”

“Maybe so but it is part of my destiny and I will follow it. So you can vanish.” Raphael activated his duel disk.

“Blindly following orders? Yeah that sounds like puppet talk to me.” She growled and activated her duel disk.

-- Raphael walked back into the board room; he'd just finished his duel against Mai and had placed her unconscious body in the elevator to await for the Pharaoh upon his arrival. He looked at the Claw of Hermos card he took off of Mai after the duel.

“Well done Raphael.” from the doors came the tiny form of Leviathan who approached the larger man.

“Mai has finally fulfilled her duty as a sacrifice, not to mention you now have Joey's Claw of Hermos! now we have a even greater leg up on the legendary duellists!”

Raphael watched as Levi come to a seat and plopped himself down into it, was this really how the great beast acted? So child like? Was Yugi back in control?  He cleared his voice before putting the card away in his jacket.

“Thank you my lord but... is the vessel still part of you? You seem to be more...laid back?” He asked the smaller being in the chair, Levi titled his head a bit.

“Oh yes he still is here! We've blended together so seamlessly that I seem to be taking on a few of his quirks! You don't need to worry about Yugi Raphael I take very good care of my vessel. In fact I'm just doing a bit of clean up.” Leviathan looked at his claws now and started to drum them on the table.

“Clean up?” he asked.

“Oh you know removing old memories and other useless junk, removing his friends form his mind is quite the task so far. But my vessel no longer needs his so called 'friends' anymore after all his new destiny awaits him!” Levi smiled a cold and unkind smile that made Raphael's hair stand on the back of his neck.

“Y-yes a new destiny. What kind of destiny do you have in store for him my lord?” Raphael thought back to his encounter with Dartz at the cemetery in his past and how Dartz used the same words with him. Destiny; one he cannot refuse but he must accept for what else does one have when you have nothing left? It is something you must follow for you cannot change it.

“Why are you so curious Raphael? Have you grown to care about the vessel?” Levi leaned closer his golden eyes shining with a predatory look.

“I...” he cleared his throat “I'm merely inquiring out of curiosity my lord. The vessel is yours to do with as you please.” Raphael was hoping his answer would throw Leviathan's gaze off of him. He hated the look in his eyes, the kindness that Yugi's eyes had were long gone as the beast wearing his skin had full control over him now.

“If you must know, I truly have grown quite fond of this vessel-Yugi is truly a unique mind and rare soul, I really cannot thank you enough for bringing him to me. Destiny has chosen him for the purpose of ushering a new age. A new world will be born with he and I at the helm.” Leviathan walked over to Raphael now and stared up at him, he only came up to his waist.

“Perhaps if you capture the Pharaoh's soul as well I will reward you handsomely. And you will finally see what is beyond the gate.” Levi turned and headed towards the door. “I'm rooting for you, Raphael.”

When Leviathan left the room he'd felt a great weight left along with him; he couldn't believe the same weak and meek looking boy he met not too long ago was lost to the endless void of the great beast. Yugi's words soon echoed in his mind “You don't have to face the world alone! You just need to reach out...” Raphael shut his eyes and shock his head, what was he thinking? He was letting a child's words try and convince him he should try and stray form his destiny? No he couldn't go off course he had to meet his fate head on.

It was time to face the Pharaoh once more...and this time he would succeed.

--

Yugi could feel himself sinking deeper and deeper, his memories where leaving him one by one. Friends, family, they were all starting to vanish one by one he was even beginning to forget his own face...his name...

As he sank deeper more into the darkness he could feel his heart was starting to go numb; he soon felt nothing as his form finally reached the ground his body fallen limp on his back. Looking up he only saw more darkness around him was even more darkness, that's all there was now darkness. He blinked once twice then shut his eyes fully as the shadows started to creep around him. It was time to surrender to his fate.

“Is this...all there is anymore?” he spoke softly as his vision started to change he could see the world different cities and towns from all over below him. It was like he was flying over all of them, as he did he felt each twinkle of star start to go out.

He was eating them? Each one tasted different but he couldn't recall the flavours, did they even have flavours? He was hungry that's all he knew now. Hunger this feeling of emptiness and the need to fill it.

How could he fill it? This need was driving him forward across the world and just like that it was dark again, and the emptiness of the void was all he saw once again.

--

As the building known as Paradus HQ started to crumble and fall; Yami Yugi was helping Raphael up the stairs to the helicopter landing, but the stairs started to break apart. With a swift motion Raphael hurled Yami Yugi to the landing just as the stairs gave way.

“Raphael!” Yami Yugi shouted down to the blonde man holding on to the ledge, Raphael reached into his coat pocket and threw a tiny black device into Yami Yugi's hands.

“Take this!” he shouted as more of the building started to crumble and break apart “Go Yugi! Change your destiny with your own hands!”

The helicopter started to take off now as the ground blow it was giving way, Yami Yugi reached down to try and take Raphael's hand.

“Forget about me!” he shouted then looked up at him with a weaker smile “When you see him, your partner, Tell him he was right...” The ledge he was holding onto finally gave way and Raphael fell into the the rumble below.

Yami Yugi watched in despair as he heard his friends call out his name telling him to jump onto the hovering air craft, he soon leaped on joining the others in the cockpit. As the helicopter ascended and flew away form the wreckage Yami Yugi looked back and said sadly “Raphael...”

As the last of the old building crumbled a new more sinister looking building stood in it's place; the grouped figured out it was what Paradus' HQ really looked like the building before was only an illusion. Yami Yugi handed over the small black device to Kaiba who put it in his PDA, on the device it showed a map with coordinates to Dartz' real HQ and hopefully the location of the captured souls.

-- Leviathan sat on his thrown as he looked at the wall of collected souls there where many familiar faces trapped in each tablet. Yugi knew many of those souls and now so did Leviathan; Pegasus, Alister, Rex, Weevil, Valon, Mai, and now Joey. Levi was grinning form ear to ear he never felt his power burn so brightly, he was on the cusp of victory. Only 2 more souls to go before he reached his goal and they where on there way to meet him now.

The god sat back and held his glowing small orb, Yugi's silhouette floated in the centre still unconscious. Levi smiled and turned the orb slightly he gave it kiss before speaking softly.

“Soon Yugi...we'll be together forever once I have their souls a new world will be born.”

Levi's ears twitched as he heard the sound of foot steps approach; he turned his attention towards Dartz who walked towards the thrown and bent down on his knee to bow.

“Dartz. My guest will be arriving soon make sure you greet them politely please.” Levi smiled at his minion who smiled back towards him.

“Of course my lord. Soon you will have the souls and power you crave, you will be fully resurrected.”

To Be Continued...

[autisticcassandracain]

Braids and Cuts

Fandom/Characters: Batman Comics, Cassandra Cain & Duke Thomas

Wordcount: 1475

Summary: Cass convinces Duke to cut his hair with her, and suggests getting braids. Duke has mixed feelings. The last person who'd done his braids was his mom.

Notes: Written for @duketectivecomics’s Duke Week Day 6: Family Bonding! I tried my best to do my research to be respectful and realistic, but I’m white, so if I got anything wrong regarding natural hair, please let me know! You can read this on AO3 here!

///

The Wayne Manor bathroom closest to their bedrooms - because there was more than one, he’d never get used to this mansion no matter how long he spent in it - was still larger than Duke’s old bedroom, which made it easily large enough to drag a truly gigantic standing mirror in there, so they’d be able to see the back of their heads without the hassle of a handheld mirror. Duke laid their guards out while Cass stood in front of it.

“Who’s first?” Cass asked, angling her head so she could see both her sides.

“You, ‘cause mine’ll probably take longer.” Plus, he hadn’t entirely decided whether he’d go through with it. It’d taken quite a while for his hair to grow back this long, and even cutting half of it off was... daunting, to say the least.

When you can’t jump off rooftops, just cut your own hair, you’ll get about the same adrenaline rush.

“I want just one side shaved,” Cass reminded him while she sat back in the chair.

Duke pulled out a clipper and rolled his eyes. “I know, you’ve only said it about three hundred times, but thanks for the reminder.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, lowest guard?”

The mirror reflected Cass’s huge grin. “Yup.”

It was easier than Duke had expected it to be, but then again, Cass’s hair was straight as a board. The scissors went in almost as easy as the clippers, and before he knew it, half her head was gone and shaved.

And yeah, it actually did look pretty damn good.

Admittedly, Duke had been skeptical when Cass’d first suggested getting dual haircuts. Not just because he’d never done his own hair, but because Cass’s fashion sense was... questionable. Sure, she had strong opinion on how she should look, which was something. It was just unfortunate that none of her opinions were any good. She’d been known to combine every colour in the visible light spectrum in the same outfit, socks with crocs, and just straight up rip off pieces of her clothes if she didn’t like how it looked. Sometimes it worked. Most of the time, it really didn’t.

But she’d come prepared with a photo album of approximately a thousand different tapered cuts, saved sides, and every braid, loc, and twist combo with those you could imagine, and, well. When Duke’d first started growing out his hair again, he’d hoped it would lead to him finally learning how to be creative with it, like his mom was. In practice, he’d done absolutely nothing, except narrowly keeping it alive. Maybe it was time for a chop.

“You sure you don’t want me to do the other side?” Duke asked, fully expecting a no.

Instead, Cass paused, looking in the mirror, angling her head this way and that. Then, she grabbed the clippers from his hand, and raked it through her hair.

“Cass!”

“I’m doing a buzzcut.”

“I thought you said you wanted one side? You were pretty adamant about it!”

“Changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Queer reasons.”

Duke rubbed his nose. “Sure, okay, whatever makes you happy. But can I at least finish it?”

Cass paused, cocked her head a little, then handed him the clippers.

“Thanks. And I hope you’re not expecting me to cut everything off.”

“Nope.”

“Good, because I spent way too long growing it for that.” And with that, he started shaving the rest of her head.

Around the time he was busy trying not to cut her ear off (easy, with the guard, but still), Cass said, “You should get yellow yarn braids.”

Duke threw her an incredulous look through the mirror. “You’re either wildly underestimating how long yarn braids take, or my patience.”

“You like them,” Cass insisted.

Which, yes, she wasn’t wrong, but, “How could you possibly know that?”

“You kept coming back to them. In the style collection.”

And, yeah, he had. Sure, getting yellow yarn braids was about as ironic as writing ‘I AM THE SIGNAL’ on the side of his head, but it was just such a cool look. He could save both sides of his head and keep them long, or shave only one and make them shorter, and both would be amazing.

“I’m not getting them,” he said. He shut the clipper off. “There, how do you like that?”

The only thing left on Cass’s head were tiny, prickly hairs, that she immediately went to rub her hand across. She stood up and twirled a bit in the mirrors, wearing a huge grin. “Love it.”

“Glad to hear that.” He gave her the clippers. “Go wash that, I should probably section my hair first.” She gave him a thumbs up and moved towards the sink.

They worked in silence for a little while, Duke carefully separating his hair with a comb and moisturizing it, while Cass washed and dried the clippers. The sound of running water would’ve been soothing if Duke wasn’t running high on nerves.

“Can I do it?” Cass asked.

“Cass, I love you, but I’d rather die than let you anywhere near my hair.” He gestured towards her hand. “Give me the clippers.”

And with a pout, she handed them over and hopped onto the washing machine to watch.

Well. No putting it off anymore.

He put the clippers to his head and went to work.

It wasn’t as difficult as he’d expected it to be. He slowly worked over his head, making sure to keep his eyes on the mirror, even as he could feel Cass staring at him.

“I could do the braids,” she offered, from atop the washing machine.

“What part of ‘I’d rather die than let you near my hair’ did you not get?” Duke answered, barely paying attention.

“You used to have braids.”

That made him pause his clipping. “How do you know?”

“Saw pictures at your house.”

“Ah.” He’d taken them down for a while, after he’d come out, but he’d taken a few  kid photos with him in foster care, after his parents... you know. It was comforting to hold onto these memories, and over time, it had stopped being strange or embarrassing to see himself look like a little girl. Even a bit nostalgic, in a weird way.

Which might be why he was considering bringing back the styles he’d worn before he’d come out. It made him remember the way his mom used to braid his hair. She was a fast braider, had to be, with box braids being her preferred style. She wore them for as long as she could get away with it, preferring natural looks for her own hair, but gladly braided his with as many beads and bright colours as he asked. He’d never actually been to a professional; braiding had been his and his mom’s little ritual, over the weekend, with Netflix or songs in the background. They’d only stopped when he’d come out and clipped his hair short.

“My mom used to do my braids,” he simply said, and Cass made an understanding noise.

“Don’t you want to learn?” she asked.

On the one hand, he did. He’d always wanted to learn, to be just as fast as his mom. On the other hand, he really, really didn’t. He just wanted his mom to do them for him, forever. Or at least for another few years, to make up for lost time.

Also, on a lighter note, he didn’t feel like sitting still for like, two days, while failing to do his first pair of braids, and really didn’t feel like doing it all alone.

He’d nearly reached the end of his haircut, detangling the last piece of hair to cut before going in for precision clips. It went swift, after that, and in the end, the haircut looked good. Full on the top, low on the sides and back. Mom had always had a full head of hair, but he felt like braids on this style would give it his own twist.

He’d like to show it to her. Maybe she’d even be present enough to appreciate it.

“I’ll do the yarn braids on one condition,” he announced, turning to Cass.

She peaked up. “What?”

“You stay with me the entire time while I do them, and you’re not allowed to get distracted on your phone.”

She grimaced. “You’re mean.”

“You’re the one that wants me to do the braids.”

“Only because it’d make you happy.”

“And because it’d look cool?”

“I’d prefer pink. And orange.”

“Of course you do, you lesbian. Do we have a deal?”

She wrinkled her nose, but said, “Deal.”

It took way longer than he (or Cass, who complained the whole time) would have liked, but two days later, he had yarn braids that ended mid-back, with electric yellow yarn.

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought his mom liked them.

[filmsmakkari]

Congratulations

Wordcount- 1.7k

Hamilton!Tom Holland x Angelica!Reader

Tom Holland x Princess!Reader

I would recommend listening to the song here!

Full Series Masterlist

Your time in Hasnaa was joyous. You wished you could have stayed there forever, but you most unfortunately had to return to your husband, and your disastrous marriage in London. With him, the days were drab and dull. It felt as if every day dragged on longer than the last, but drag on they did, and before you knew it, five years had passed.

You were sitting at the end of the table what felt like miles away from your husband, when a servant entered with a letter in her hand.

“It’s from Prince Phillip, your grace.” The servant girl curtsied before exiting.

“Thank you,” you said as you opened the letter.

It read:

My Dear Aunt,

Cold is my heart as I reckon with the affects my father’s whims have had on our family name. I’m not sure if word has yet reached you there in London, but I must most regretfully inform you that our dear Duke of Saataun has had a most unfortunate affair with the young Countess Nadia Renoylds. Apparently, it took place when we were visiting grandfather at the Fadar da Hasnaa, a considerable time indeed. He also had the privity and connivance of the count, whom he paid off to not tell mother. Apparently, the entire affair was an elaborate scheme on the Renoylds’ part. Their most intricate plan was for the countess to seduce father into an affair, and then blackmail him. If father did not find himself in a prosperous enough position to put wealth into their pockets, they would tell mother of the affair. Of course, this all took place many years ago, and father did pay the count off. None of this would have come to light if those vultures Anthony Monroe, Christopher Jefferson, and Aaron Blackwell hadn’t accused father of embezzlement. To prove his innocence, father published an essay entitled “The Reynolds Pamphlet”in which he admits the truth of his affair, and how he did not in fact embezzle money, but rather used it to pay off his mistress’s husband. In truth it isn’t much better, but he committed no crimes. He might have mortally wounded his prospects, but his papers are orderly, that is a fact none can deny. I have attached a copy of The Reynolds Pamphlet with this letter so that you may read it yourself. Tis no surprise that my mother is outraged. She has father sleeping in his office, and last night as I was passing her cracked bedroom door, I saw her setting fire to all the hundreds of letters he’s written to her. I know it is much to ask of you, seeing as you are the ruler of a large realm, but if you could journey here to see her, I’m sure it would be much consolation. With our dear Peggy sick in Paris, you are the only of her sisters with the ability to make the journey. Please consider.

Votre neveu le plus adorant et le plus vrai,

Prince Phillip of Saataun

Your heart sank as you read your nephew’s words. You quickly took the “Reynolds Pamphlet” from under his letter and read it.

It Read:

I owe perhaps to my friends an apology for condescending to give a public explanation. A just pride with reluctance stoops to a formal vindication against so despicable a contrivance and is inclined rather to oppose to it the uniform evidence of an upright character.

The charge against me is a connection with one Anthony Reynolds. For purposes of improper speculation, my real crime is an amorous connection with his wife, for a considerable time with his knowing consent, if not originally brought on by a combination between the husband and wife with the design to extort money from me. I had frequent meetings with her, most of them in my own house, the Duchess with our children being absent on a visit to the King.

This confession is not made without a blush. I cannot be the apologist of any vice because the ardour of passion may have made it mine. I can never cease to condemn myself for the pang, which it may inflict in a bosom eminently intitled to all my gratitude, fidelity and love. But that bosom will approve, that even at so great an expence, I should effectually wipe away a more serious stain from a name, which it cherishes with no less elevation than tenderness. The public too will I trust excuse the confession. The necessity of it to my defence against a more heinous charge could alone have extorted from me so painful an indecorum.

The essay went on for several more paragraphs, but you could not bear to read any more. Your heart felt as if it was cracking as you thought of your dear Eliza. Oh, all the pain she must have been in. How could Thomas, your Thomas have done such a thing? How could he have hurt your sister in such a way? The anger must have been clear in your eyes, as your husband suddenly spoke.

“What is it?” his monotone voice asked. He barely even looked up from his newspaper.

“My dear sister, Eliza, and our brother, Thomas seem to have been involved in a scandal. I must return home immediately.”

“Oh, well you do that. I shall remain here.”

Oh, of course, he was. You held back an eye roll as you stood and went to your quarters to begin packing.

You booked passage on a ship that was heading for Saataun the next day and quickly made your way home. Your carriage was awaiting your arrival when you stepped off the docks, and you immediately directed him to Eliza’s palace. When you knocked on the door, to your surprise, it was answered by your nephew, Phillip, now fourteen years old. You hugged him tightly.

“Where is your mother, Phillip?” you asked as you released the boy.

“At the store, I believe. But father’s just upstairs, in his office.”

You thanked the young boy before rushing up the stairs and into Thomas’s office.

His eyes widened at the sight of you. “(Y/N)?”

“I came as soon as I heard,” you said flatly.

“Oh, (Y/N), thank God,” he rose and walked towards you, taking your hands and trying to kiss it “someone who understands what I’m struggling here to do-” he paused as you snatched your hand away from him.

“(Y/N)?”

“Congratulations, Thomas.”

He looked at you confused.

“You have invented a new kind of stupid! A damage you could never undo kind of stupid, an open all the cages in the zoo kind of stupid! Truly, you didn’t think this through, did you?”

You gestured with your hands as you spoke. “Let's review, shall we? You two a rumor a few-what was it, three- people knew and refuted it by sharing an affair of which no one has accused you!” You got close to his face, saying, “Thomas, I begged you to take a break and you refused to.”

Now you were pacing and speaking loudly. “You’re so scared of what your enemies will do to you when in reality you’re the only enemy you ever seem to lose to! Do you know why Jefferson can do as he pleases? He doesn’t dignify schoolyard taunts with a response! So yes, congratulations, Thomas.”

“(Y/N)...”

“You’ve redefined your legacy. No, really! Congratulations,” you said, walking out.

“It was an act of political sacrifice!” he exclaimed.

You stopped in your tracks, looking back at him bewildered. “Sacrifice? Thomas Holland, you know nothing of sacrifice.”

“What does that mean?”

“Thomas, I languished in a loveless marriage in London, I lived only to read your letters. I look at you and think “God, what have we done with our lives, and what did it get us?” It doesn’t wipe all the years or all my tears away, but I’ve returned to Larione, and this time I’m here to stay. Do you know what I’m here to do, Thomas?”

“(Y/N)...” he said, coming close to you and cupping your face.

As much as it pained you to do so, you grabbed his hand, tearing it from your face, and saying, “I’m not here for you.”

Thomas sighed, tears burning in his eyes.

You felt the anger begin to rise again as you spoke, “I know my sister like I know my own mind! You will meet a more gentle, kind, trusting soul. I love my sister more than anything in this life! If it comes to choosing between her happiness and mine, I will choose hers every time! Yelizaveta is the best person in our lives, so never again make the mistake of forgetting that you have been blessed with the best wife! For the rest of your life, every sacrifice you make is for my sister, you be sure to give her the best life!”

You raised your hand and slapped him as hard as humanly possible and turned to leave. You paused in the doorframe, turning back to him. “Putting what we had aside, I’m going to find my sister and I am going to stand by her side. I already know “you could never be satisfied.” God, I hope you’re satisfied.” And with that, you were gone.

Your night was spent whispering comforting words to your younger sister, remarking to her “Oh, my dear Eliza, I fear you have married an Icarus. He has flown too close to the sun.”

You did in fact stay in Larione, just as you had told Thomas you would, choosing to relocate to the Fadar da Zuri. It was frowned upon by the public that you, the Empress of Jimbaari, were staying in a palace outside of your country without a husband or some other guardian, but you didn’t care. Your sister and her happiness were all that mattered to you. You prayed for your sister’s happiness. You also prayed that she’d forgive Thomas. Not, in fact, because of your love for Thomas, but rather as you didn’t want anything weighing on your sister’s gentle soul.

As for your ever most complicated relationship with Thomas, you barely interacted with him, not speaking to him when at their home and not writing to him. Though sometimes, you would catch him staring at you with such deep longing that it made your heart ache. And it pained you so deeply, because you knew you couldn’t have been more in love with him- even after his betrayal. So, pray you did. Prayed for your sister’s inner peace, and your own, prayed for the well being of the children, and prayed begging the lord why in all his goodness, he would cause you the utmost pain by bringing that foolish soldier Thomas Holland into their lives.

[omgrachwrites]

The Princess and The Duke - Chapter Three

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: As the Princess of  Spain, you were always supposed to marry King James of England to make an alliance between Spain and England. When he marries a woman at his court for love, you are married off to his best friend, Sirius Black the Duke of Bedford to keep the alliance. However, the court is riddled  with secrets and a rebel in the North starts to rise against the Throne. Royal AU.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of death

Words: 2496

Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me!

A/N: Hope you guys had a wonderful Christmas! Hope you guys enjoy this part and please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged, I love you all! xxx

Chapter Three - She is a Diamond

Nerves swarmed and came to a rising bubble in your stomach on the afternoon of the meeting between your future husband and his friends. The meeting was to determine the unknown problems and strife that England was now facing. You were worried for a multitude of reasons, England was meant to be your new home and you wanted to be safe, you didn’t want to be led like a lamb to slaughter. If it was rebels rising in the North then you knew of one sure way – the only way – to prove that England was strong and it was something that you were not ready for.

You had decided to dress in a rather conservative dress today – it felt like it was crushing your internal organs – instead of your usual pretty ethereal dresses. You wanted Sirius’ friends to take you seriously, you had a voice and they needed to hear it.

Sofia caught your eye in the mirror as she was intricately braiding your hair and she smiled at you as she squeezed your shoulders gently, “I’m nervous Sofia,” you admitted and Sofia nodded in understanding.

“Making peace is frightening, Your Highness but Sirius is incredibly lucky to have you, as is England.”

You frowned at her as she stepped away from the golden gilded mirror, “what do you mean?”

Sofia bit her lip as she fiddled with her fingers and you could tell that she was trying to be diplomatic with what she said next, “forgive me if you think that I speak out of turn but Queen Lily probably has no experience of diplomacy because she was never supposed to be Queen. But, you, you were raised to be a Queen; your father took you into his council meetings. You know what you’re doing and I know that the Duke will listen to you.”

You knew that Sofia was right, the Queen seemed nice but she had only been a minor Lady before King James took her to wife so she wouldn’t have been taught the art of diplomacy, “she’s the Queen, and we shouldn’t talk about her like that. When we’re her ladies we need to help her,” Sofia smiled and nodded at your kind words, “I should get going, what are you going to do while I’m gone?”

Sofia shrugged as she played with the ends of her hair, “I might take a walk around the gardens,” she flushed and you smirked, knowing exactly what she was thinking.

“And daydream about the Duke of Warwick?”

Sofia’s blush only deepened at your words, “maybe.”

You giggled and kissed both of her cheeks before you left your chambers and set off for the council chambers. It was a dreary day that was full of much rain but like usual, you kept the window cracked open a little bit. When it rained it carried the smell of strawberries growing on the wind and it filled the hallways with the sweetest scent. It managed to cheer everyone up, even on the greyest day.

You gently knocked on the ajar door before entering the room and the three men got to their feet at once, “Your Highness,” they chorused, inclining their heads.

Sirius smiled at you, he looked gloriously handsome in robes of periwinkle that brought out the soft stormy colour of his eyes. He kept eye contact with you as he took your hand and lifted it to his lips to press a soft kiss upon it. The look in his eyes made your cheeks flush and your heart flutter as pleasant warmth spread through your bones.

You cleared your throat as the air felt thick and heavy, “my Lords,” your voice sounded breathy and you could have sworn that Sirius’ eyes darkened slightly. Sirius gestured for you to sit down and the three Lords followed suit, “so, what have we got here? What’s the trouble?” you asked.

A muscle fluttered in Sirius’ jaw as he threw the letter down in the middle of the table, “there’s trouble brewing in Cumbria, small villages have been raided and pillaged and bandits have been attacking travellers on the Kings Road. It could be peasants but it could be rebels rising up against the King. Unrest is already stirring in London, people are starting to lose faith due to the Queen’s inability to get pregnant,” his voice was gentle but his words were harsh.

You saw a flash of red before your eyes, “that’s not her fault!” your voice was sharp and you saw Sirius flinch slightly, you sighed and placed your hand on his knee, “who’s lands are they?” you asked, maybe the Duke of Cumbria would be able to shed some light.

“Well, that’s the problem,” Remus started, “they’re the King’s lands, he’s yet to appoint a Duke, there have always been rebels in the North so he’s hesitant to let his rule go,” you raised an eyebrow in slight confusion, “there was a Duke and a Duchess once, Tom Riddle and his wife who were both executed for practicing witchcraft. Riddle claimed that his wife had given him love potion and he was executed by association. The Riddles used to rule the country before they were overthrown by James’ grandfather.”

You were silent, who would dare commit such crimes on lands owned by the King? “was there no heir?” you whispered and Remus’ face grew solemn.

“He was executed in the tower of London, James’ father was a witness, he used to tell us the story when we were children.”

Bile fought its way up your throat as tears stung your eyes and you thought about the horror of a poor child being killed for his parent’s sins, “that’s awful,” you whispered and you felt Sirius’ hand squeeze yours gently.

Remus hummed in response with a worried expression on his face as he looked over at his best friend, “we need to do something about this, whether it’s a group of peasant or a group of rebels, we need to make England safe, like it was in times of old. Can you send any of your men to investigate and deal justice if needs be?”

Sirius shook his head as his long fingers pressed into his temples and your heart melted for him, “I’ve got no men to spare, they’re holding Calais in case our enemies rise up, it truly feels as though we have no allies,” he hesitated as he lifted his head and you could almost hear the cogs turning in his head, “we need to send a spy – if it is rebels – somebody that they won’t expect.”

Peter, who had been silent for most of the meeting – he had no art for diplomacy – made a small scared noise and you bit your lip. Peter wasn’t the bravest of men, that much was true but he would be the most inconspicuous spy, no one would ever suspect him. However, something gnawed at your conscience and it was his face. Peter was trembling, his small eyes were watery and he seemed to know what everyone else did, he looked scared. He looked just like a little boy and you remembered just how young he was, how young you all were.

Whatever happened you couldn’t let Peter go, not when he looked scared to death, your heart wouldn’t allow it. Instead, you sacrificed yourself and the handsome man sitting at your side, “the common people – and all people – need to believe in you again, in King James, in England, in all of us. We need to give the appearance that we’re strong and Sirius is right,” you gestured over to him to find that he was listening intently with his eyebrows drawn together, “we have no allies but there is one way, the only way to ensure that we get them. We need to give the people a spectacle and a reason to celebrate. We need Spain, we need a wedding,” you looked up at Sirius from beneath your eyelashes.

Realisation dawned on his face as clear as day, “Y/N, no” he trailed off, saying nothing more.

“It’s not what I want,” you sniffed, feeling tears sting at your eyes, “but we need allies, we need Spain,” you hadn’t wanted to marry him so quickly, you were becoming fond of him but that wasn’t enough.

Remus and Peter stayed silent as they glanced at Sirius, awaiting his response, “we can’t,” he whispered, his eyes were soft and gentle.

“Do you know of any other way Sirius? My father won’t send the Spanish men we need without our wedding. Our wedding is the only way we can rely on this alliance and I won’t allow anyone to be sent over as a spy, not yet,” you glanced over at Peter who gave you a shaky thankful smile.

Sirius stayed silent, a troubled look on his face, “that’s settled then,” you sniffed as you stood up, feeling your heart beating wildly, “excuse me my Lords. Good day,” you excused yourself without looking at Sirius or waiting for a reply.

Once you were in the hallway, you steadied yourself with a hand on the cold stone wall, you felt faint and your breathing got shallow. You were going to be a wife soon, you had had no choice.

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

Sirius sighed through the cold air as he dragged a hand through his hair, he had been searching for the Princess for ages now, and he had cut the meeting short to search through his huge chateau. He couldn’t find her anywhere, she wasn’t in the library or in the portrait room, and they were the two places where she loved to sit for hours. It had stopped raining now so he decided to look for her in the gardens, the trouble was there was so many of them, and it could be dark before he found her.

He slipped on the rain soaked grass as he made his way across the wet lawn, a million questions running through his head at once. Why would she sacrifice herself? Sirius had never wanted it to be like this, it felt like it was a forced marriage. Sirius had wanted to wait until they got to know each other better and when she felt comfortable but that was all over now. As soon as the people got wind of a wedding that involved a Princess they would want to see results immediately.

Sirius finally found her sitting on the bench of the water fountain in the rose garden; Sofia was sitting with her arm around Y/N’s shoulders. Y/N’s eyes looked red and bloodshot, it looked like she had been crying but she was still beautiful. How was she still so beautiful? Y/N looked up as she heard Sirius approached and she wiped her nose and got to her feet.

“Y/N,” Sirius sighed as he reached out and cupped her cold cheek with his warm hand, Y/N let out a breath as she leaned in to his warm touch, placing her hand over his, “why? Why would you do this? I thought we had an agreement, we would get married when you were ready and not a second earlier.”

Y/N bit her lip and looked away from him as she watched the water trickling into the fountain with a sad look in her eyes, “you’re sweet Sirius,” she started in a shaky voice,  “and I’ll always be grateful for that but the rest of the world won’t wait for us. People who want to attack England and overthrow King James won’t wait for us; they’ll see a moment of weakness and strike like a viper. We can’t afford to lose this war Sirius; too many lives are at stake, yours included.”

“I understand that Y/N,” Sirius whispered gently, almost like he was whispering to a lover in the dead of night, “but you have no duty to the people of England, you have no duty to try and save them.”

Y/N looked back at him and smiled weakly, the light in her eyes was back and a flush started to rise up from her neck before it settled in a light dusting on her cheeks, “no, you’re right, I don’t have a duty to the people of England, and it’s not them I’m trying to save. I’m trying to save you, and your friends who have always been so kind to me. I’m trying to protect you and our marriage is the only way that I can do that, so I’ll make the choice willingly.”

Sirius felt hot tears sting at his eyes, he had never felt so protected by anyone, not his King and certainly not his mother, at that moment he wanted nothing more than to kiss her but he felt that that wouldn’t be appropriate. Instead he pulled her into a tight hug, he heard her laugh as she wrapped her arms around him and Sirius buried his nose in her sweet smelling hair, “thank you,” he whispered against her hair.

Y/N pulled back and smiled up at him, “you’re welcome and I know that we may not love each other but I want us to be in this together,” she smiled when Sirius nodded with a grin, he wanted that too, “so,” she started as she took his arm and started to take a stroll around the gardens, “know any good places to get married?” she laughed.

“Well, there is my family chapel but it’s sad and dark, its where my mother got married, it’s not fit for such a young and beautiful princess,” he grinned over at Y/N who flushed and she tightened her hold on Sirius’ arm, “there is a place in the woods where a little chapel dwells, right in the thicket of trees. In times of old it was said that Englishmen found fairies in the trees and mermaids in the babbling brooks.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she looked up at him entirely unconvinced, “are you serious? Fairies and mermaids?” she snickered, “who came up with that rubbish?”

Sirius smiled, “I found in a book of local legends,” he shrugged, “and I’ve been to visit it and it really is beautiful, if those creatures did exist then it would be a perfect habitat for them, it feels like it’s steeped in magic. There’s a cluster of cherry blossom trees that hides the chapel and its grounds from the world. It’s one of the most amazing places,” he smiled wistfully.

Y/N gazed up at him, her eyes sparkling and her lips were parted slightly, she had a beautiful expression on her face but it was an expression that Sirius couldn’t decipher, “that sounds wonderful,” her voice got all breathy again and she leaned her head against Sirius’ shoulder, a nice warm weight, “looks like we have a wedding to plan.”

“Yes, it seems that way Your Highness,” Sirius grinned, feeling his cheeks dimple as he lifted up her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.

---------------------------------- 

@smiithys​ @elayneblack​ @amelie-black​ @siriuslyjanhvi​ @pregnant-piggy​ @lindatreb​ @mabelle-cherie​ @hxrgreeves​ @britishspidey​ @mads-bri​ @classicrocketqueen​ @sxtansqueen​ @hufflepuffzutara​ @missmulti​ @bruxa0007​ @ourstarsailor​ @fific7​ @squ1dward​ @2410slb​ @sunles​

[justice4harwin]

Light’s Corruption-Chapter VII

Summary: With few friends at the Little Palace, Alina must work to win the favour of her fellow grisha and their commander, who makes her feel light headed every time she sees him.

After training in Os Alta for two years, the king grows tired of waiting and demands the Sun Summoner joins a western post near the Fjerdan border along with the rest of The Second Army to test her abilities.

Something happens. Suddenly, Alina wants blood to run down the rivers and those who stand in her and The Darkling’s way will be blinded by her light and swallowed by his shadows.

It won’t be pretty.

Pairing: The DarklingxAlina

Rating: 18+ (better safe than sorry, u know)

Anyone fancy a playlist?

As usual, the tags are in the comments; if you no longer want to be in the list or wanna be added, please don’t hesitate to let me know :)

Click here for chapter VI

Chapter 7: Within the Palace's Walls

 Dear General Kirigan,

Dear General

Dear Kirigan

Dear Darkling

"Ugh!" Alina let her face drop on top of the paper, not caring if the ink got into her face, and groaned, loudly and at length. "Why?!" She asked into the nothingness of her room.

She had no reason to write to him. She knew he must've had frequent reports of the ongoings of the Little Palace, so she had no other excuse except to admit the truth, which was that she craved his attention, even if he was days away.

This was so pathetic of her; letting go of a life-long unrequited love just to fall into the arms of the first man who complimented her, even if she did feel a strange pull towards him.

What she needed was time for herself. Yes. She had finally said goodbye to Mal, falling for someone else so quickly would do her no good.

Oh, but Saints! The way in which he had kissed her, like he'd been waiting for centuries, like she was a treasure, like he truly wanted her. She had kissed people before, but never like that. She had enjoyed it, sure, but always stopped it before the clothes started to disappear. It usually bored people, but Alina didn't mind that much. It wasn't like when Genya was in the room while she bathed, helping her get to whenever she needed to be in time by pulling at the knots in her hair and handing her a towel. Genya was trustworthy, she was her friend and she had never given her one of those looks that had made her uncomfortable during her training at Poliznaya, nor made an unwanted comment or advance on her figure.

But The Darkling… That day, she had felt more than willing to let him have his way with her; nobody had set her body aflame the way The Darkling had done that afternoon a few weeks prior; she dreamt of it at night and woke up sweaty and hot, and it was a real effort to not daydream about it during her day.

General Imbecile Brute,

I write to you on this day to let you know of the first snow at the Little Palace. It makes quite the pretty paint...from the inside.

Also, I cannot stop thinking about you and your kiss, and I've been staring at the rose you gave me for such long amounts of time I fear my eyes will cross and I'll be stuck like that forever.

Please, tell me: do you feel the same? Mark 'yes' or 'no'.

Forever at your service,

Alina Starkov, Sun Summoner, Idiot.

Ps: You're not an imbecile, only a little rude; and you're not a brute, but some of your manners need polishing. Other than that, you're perfect.

Signed again,

Alina Starkov, she who lacks decency.

She looked at the letter, a low, prolonged, pitiful sound parting from her lips that turned into an animalistic groan. She grabbed the piece of paper, scrunched it into a small ball and threw it into her fireplace.

The snow covered the grounds of the Little Palace almost entirely, the lake would soon be completely frozen, and finalize the beautiful picture. Some Grisha were excited over the opportunity to skate. Alina had never done it, but Marie and Nadia promised to teach her.

From her horse, Alina moved uneasily. She still wasn't used to horse-riding, but Nina had invited her along with a few of her friends, who were all of different orders. It was a chance she wouldn't miss.

She tugged her kefta closer and held onto the reigns, advancing slowly along with the group, heading to the edges of the woods that surrounded the place.

A Fabrikator passed her a flask of kvas, and despite her dislike for the strong drink, Alina took it anyways and tried not to grimace as the liquid went down her throat.

If she were honest, she'd rather be inside the warm walls of her room in the Little Palace, chattering the afternoon away with Genya. She hadn't need to ask if the Tailor could join them at the stables; Alina was well aware of how little regard the other Grisha had for her -until they needed something-.

"I heard a few of you have been working on new keftas." she tried to make light conversation with the woman as she handed her her kvas back.

"Yes." she answered politely, "We're making a special fabric that should give us more freedom of movement during battle."

Alina rose her eyebrows. It wouldn't help her much if she didn't improve her fighting skills, but it was an interesting idea.

"How's it coming along?"

The woman tried to hide a grimace.

"It's complicated, but we're making some progress."

Alina smiled.

"Maybe you can tell me more about it during dinner." she suggested. "I, for once, would love a different type of trousers."

The woman smiled starkly, her blond hair getting on her face.

"They are rather stiff, aren't they?"

"I can barely flex my legs as it is."

The woman, whose name was Lada Alina remembered, agreed.

"I know. They're not suitable." she said in a strange tone, to which Alina gave her an odd, sideways look.

"Did you hear Zoya is back?" Fedyor interrupted, marching up to keep up with them.

Alina stared at him, groaned, and rolled her eyes.

"That's great." she said dryly.

Her absence was nice while it lasted.

"Maybe if I get under her skin and she attacks again, The General will send her off for a longer time. Or better yet, I could actually beat her."

Who was she kidding? Zoya was a formidable fighter, and Alina was just starting to win every now and then. Also, she suspected that Nina might have gone easy on her during their first sparring match a few weeks prior. She hadn't won against her ever since.

"Tell me about it." the woman in question said, rolling her eyes. "I don't understand her obsession with being on The General's inner circle."

"Says the one who is in the inner circle." Fedyor pointed out.

"Barely." Nina made a gesture with her hand, as if trying to rest importance to the matter. "Besides, it's not such a big deal. I don't know why everyone makes such a fuss about it."

"Well, the higher we are, the better we can protect other Grisha." Alina said, almost hesitantly. "I mean, if we have The General's ear, more ideas will flow about. I'm sure everyone has something to contribute to the cause."

"You don't need to worry about that, sun bean;" Nina smirked. "You're the Sun Summoner, it's likely he'll listen to you."

Alina's cheeks flushed as everyone in the group turned to stare at her.

"I think it's good to aim high;" Fedyor said, drifting the attention to himself, thanks the Saints. "As long as it's for the better of the Second Army."

Nina looked away and uttered something only Alina heard.

"Oh, yeah, betterment of forced servitude."

The Summoner stiffened on her saddle at the bitter words. Was Nina unhappy at the Little Palace? Why? She was one of the most powerful Grisha there; she lived in the most secured place in all Ravka, and her General held her in high regard.

A part of Alina wished she had never hidden her light. Maybe it would've been for the better to leave Keramzin, to leave Mal behind sooner.

It also made her think of someone who scarcely passed through her mind those days: her own mother.

She shook her head, ridding herself of such thoughts. She was thankful for the commodities and safe life she had at the Little Palace. Even if she was one of a kind, everyone else seemed to be adapting well to her, especially since she began to summon on her own and join in their little games by the lake.

She had been hesitant about it at first, but Genya insisted that going would be a great opportunity to both show her power and make allies.

"Besides, they won't believe you're a snob or a fraud if you show them a little." she had said, lazily lounging on a chair as they shared a nice tea one afternoon, while the queen took an especially long nap the very same day the Duke of Balakirev had arrived at court.

Lately, Alina felt more normal, and she was sure that her latest choices had a lot to do with it. From showcasing her powers, to sitting in different sections on different tables during meals and just talking normally about trivial things -even if those did exhaust her mind- and wearing an Etherealki kefta, she was more approachable, and the other Grisha seemed to slowly start to notice it too.

"It's not enough."

"We surely do deserve some more credit." she spoke, even if she didn't fully believe in the sentiment. The First Army was full of otkazat'sya, and they didn't have the advantages of bullet-proof clothing, private tents, furs for the winter and three decent meals per day.

It was all so difficult for Alina. She had once envied the advantages The Second Army possessed over The First, yet she couldn't deny there were other kinds of dangers for the Grisha, that not everything was perfect inside the walls of Os Alta.

Like the distrust of those who weren't like them, their fear, tamed only by their usefulness due only to the Black Heretic's greed.

All around her, her fellow Grisha nodded their agreements.

She wondered, briefly, what would Grisha life be like in Ravka if The Fold hadn't been created in the first place. What would happen if she ever managed to tear it down?

She didn't want to dwindle in those thoughts further.

With the Winter Fete approaching, everyone at the Little and Grand Palace seemed to buzz with all kinds of different energy. The servants were comprehensively nervous and stressed as they ran from one place to the other. Alina's fellow Grisha were either excited or indifferent, but none the less they all put the same amount of effort into practicing their yearly demonstration.

As for Alina herself, she had received the news that she was expected to showcase her power in front of the royal family and the other nobles of Ravka.

"The king wanted to throw a bigger party; invite diplomats from all continents and such, but General Kirigan insisted that it wasn't necessary yet." Genya said one afternoon, as Alina braided her hair.

She was seated very still, her eyes continuously darting from one side to the other as if trying to peek at her friend's work, concern etched on her face.

"He seems impatient." Alina commented, to which Genya huffed, accommodating her friend's new possessions on her vanity with a precision that seemed borderline obsessive.

"You have no idea. He can't wait to see the mighty Sun Summoner." she said, pouting and trying to imitate his deeper voice.

Alina frowned, said nothing, and continued braiding, her movements slowing but almost precise.

The Darkling

 Miss Starkov,

Due to my sudden absence, I had no time to notify you that I shall oversee your training personally from now on.

Being far away, I do not wish for you to stall, so I leave you some instructions on what to practice and how, and a few reading recommendations fo-

He leaned back in his chair and sighed.

He was being a fool, and he hated it.

Writing to her with instructions on how to practice her summoning was a foolish idea. She was barely starting and needed overseeing, and the only one besides himself who could help her was his mother, who remained bitter at the woman. He really wanted to know what Alina had said to Baghra to make her so upset.

He almost smiled, feeling something wickedly, childishly happy in his chest at the possibilities.

Tossing the letter into the fire, he leaned back in his chair.

Teaching her through letters would only lead to disaster, but how else would he know about her? How else could he earn her trust while being so far away?

Pathetic.

"Moi Soverennyi." Ivan presented himself, bowing before further entering his tent. He offered him an envelope. "A letter from the Grand Palace."

The Darkling took it and quickly read it, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Although he had convinced the king that inviting foreign diplomats was not yet a good idea, the stupid man insisted that the Sun Summoner performed alongside the other Grisha. Alina was finally able to summon on her own, but he knew a part of her still feared her gift; putting on a show for an audience was not the best idea.

He…worried? for her?

"We will have to be back in time for the Winter Fete."

Ivan grunted. "I hate that thing."

The Darkling nodded in agreement. After all those centuries, he was more than bored of them. It was always the same waste of time and resources for his army, only to entertain the nobles for a few hours. As if they would not go back to turning their back on them the very next day.

Those fools often seemed to forget that his Grisha could have them for lunch if they so wanted it.

Privileged as The Second Army may seem, people were wary of them, even the nobles who lived in the surrounding areas.

"But they will not attempt anything so long as they need us."

"We have little choice, Ivan."

"We could always host it near The Fold and accidently push the royal family inside it." he said, sardonic as usual.

"Tempting." The Darkling smirked, setting the letter aside with little care.

The Heartrender stepped aside to allow him out, and The Darkling marched towards the river, where a few of his fabrikators were working on a new skiff. It wasn't nearly as grand as the one Alina had boarded that fateful day, but that was due to a different purpose.

There was a strange device being placed underneath it.

"Are you sure this will work?" he asked Petya.

The woman hesitated for the briefest moment, and The Darkling reminded himself internally to summon new graves for his Grisha.

"Such a pity." he thought, sincerely.

"Yes. So long as the Squaller sets a slow pace and nobody exerts themselves too much, they should be able to pass in relative tranquillity."

He had a feeling it would not work. His Grisha had already tried several times to cross through the river, but David Kostyk was sure his new invention would cancel out the soft sounds of the skiff against the water and dwindle the sounds of a heartbeat.

"Do not expect the path to be clear." he said.

"That is exactly why we're going, sir." a Squaller, Igor, approached and bowed. "If this works and we can clear the path, we should be able to make it to the other side eventually."

"Let us hope it does not take too many tries." he said.

Too many Grisha lives, he had wanted to say.

"David is rarely wrong, Moi Soverennyi." Petya said.

That was true. David was one of his best Grisha, which was why The Darkling tried to keep him inside the safety of the Little Palace's walls unless absolutely necessary.

Still, The Darkling though the plan stupid and a waste; but it was either that or forcing Alina into The Fold, and she was far from being ready to make a crossing, even through its thinnest point up north.

As a Squaller, a Heartrender, two Healers and two Inferni boarded the skiff, followed by a few strong otkazat'sya men from the First Army, The Darkling thought of David.

He thought of Alina.

And his thoughts returned to David.

With a sharp nod, he sent off the small team to do their last test and headed back to his tent, where he began to write a letter addressed to Mr. Kostyk.

Click here for chapter 8

[trekkiepirate]

Master of All

My Witcher Secret Santa gift for @motionalocean! @thewitchersecretsanta

Crossposted to AO3 HERE

nearly 9.2K of BAMF!Jaskier and Geralt being progressively more smitten. 5 Times Jaskier Is Good At Things Geralt Didn't Expect And The 1 Thing He Knew Jaskier Was Good At. PG-13 for bad words, canon-typical violence, and the +1 Under cut because it’s hella long.

1. Pickpocketing

“Well,” Jaskier huffed, “I sincerely hope you missed one of those ghouls and they come back and eat this whole rotten village. Starting with that alderman. No, starting with his appalling son who has the AUDACITY to claim he was a better singer than me. My gods, Geralt, I don’t even think I’ll complain of the lack of a roof and a bed this evening. Sleeping under the stars with my very dear friend-“

“-not friends,” Geralt huffed.

The interruption entirely ignored by Jaskier. “-who is twice, thrice, no no no ten, a hundred, a THOUSAND times the man that they could ever dream of being. Asking a man-“

“-not a man,” Geralt said, expecting, correctly, Jaskier would ignore this comment too.

Jaskier, instead, whirled and looked at Geralt like he had punched him. Actually, he looked more upset than when Geralt has, in fact, punched him. “Of course you’re a man.” Jaskier tilted his head. “Well, I cannot say for certain as I have not yet seen you… in a state of undress. Though not that the having of a penis makes one a man. It’s more about your own identity-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed, sliding two now-skinned hares onto sticks over the fire.

“You’re a man because that’s who you tell the world you are.”

“I don’t.”

It seemed only every other sentence was going to get through Jaskier’s tirades as he stopped speaking.

For a few blissful seconds. “Geralt,” Jaskier put his hands on his hips, voice exasperated as if he were a teacher who expected better of his pupil. “Geralt,” he said again, “you are the best man I have ever met. Smarter than any scholar, kinder than any priest, more noble than any titled twat.”

Geralt blinked. Jaskier seemed so sincere. “We’ve just met.”

“Right, well, we’ve actually been traveling together for four months, but I imagine time feels different when you’re basically immortal, so we’ll let that slide.”

A frown twisted Geralt’s face. “You’re young. You can’t have met that many people.”

Jaskier pursed his lips and put on what he called his Viscount voice. Though why he’d pretend to be a Viscount was beyond Geralt. “I studied for years at the most prestigious and widely attended university on the Continent. I have met plenty of people, Geralt. And you are still the best one I know.”

Geralt hmmed. “Your good opinion won’t buy us a roof and a bed.”

A grin like a succubus, pretty and dangerous, spread over Jaskier’s face. He reached into his trousers and produced a bag of coins. “It might do.”

The same bag of coins that the alderman had refused to give Geralt after he cleared a nest of ghouls from a field. He’d taken three crowns and told Geralt that it couldn’t be worth the whole bag if it only took him an hour.

As it was, most of that hour was building the bomb he’d need to destroy the nest. The ghouls had been sated by feeding on villagers who’d tried to kill them and were slow.

“Where-” Geralt shook his head, he knew the answer to that one. “How?”

Jaskier tossed the bag in the air and caught it. He continued doing so as he spoke. “Remember when I gestured around his, frankly gaudy and most certainly fake, prized vase?”

Geralt stared at the boy. “You distracted him by making him think you might break his vase and then stole his coin out of his pocket.”

“Exactly! Really it’s his fault for so blatantly putting the coin away while looking down his nose at you.” Jaskier grinned bright and extracted one coin from the bag before handing it to Geralt.

“Thief’s fee?” Geralt nodded at the coin.

Jaskier’s smile got even more mischievous. He balanced the coin on his thumb, then flicked it.

It hit Geralt in the chest and fell into his lap.

“Well, tossing a coin is the chorus of the song anyway,” he winked, then spun around, grabbing a cooked hare and blowing on it before taking a large bite. “They’ll see,” he said as he chewed, “my song will become a hit! ‘Toss a Coin’ will be sung the entire length and breadth of the Continent and men like that will be the pariahs, the outcasts. Anyone who denigrates a witcher will be spit upon in the streets. See how they like that!” Jaskier’s next bite was near savage, tearing the meat from the bone. But the next moment, he grinned over the fire at Geralt. “And until it does become a hit and you are lauded as the hero you are, and don’t say you’re not a hero, I see your mouth opening and you can very well shut it again for all the credence I’m going to give you saying you’re not a hero.” He gestured wildly with his hare, grease dripping slowly down his hand and forearm, on display since he’d rolled up the sleeves as his chemise on such a warm night.

Geralt found his next breath a little harder to take as he stared at the bare forearm. He hmmed and took up his own meal.

“So until that day, I will gladly make sure you are properly paid for your work,” he waggled the fingers of his left hand at Geralt. “One way or another.”

“Don’t get caught,” Geralt said. “I won’t break you out of any jail cell you land in.”

Jaskier laughed. “That is a bald-faced lie. You did the exact thing two towns ago and that wasn’t even me risking my freedom and safety for you to be given all you deserve.”

Geralt looked up at Jaskier, then quickly back to his hare when he found the expression on Jaskier’s face too… too much like something warm settling in his stomach. He ate the rest of the hare as fast as he could.

No one had ever said Geralt deserved anything. Not anything nice, anyway. But Jaskier seemed to think that Geralt was a kind of hero in a tale and wanted him to be treated as such.

Fool’s errand, he thought. Jaskier was young and didn’t know how the world worked outside of the high walls of a university. He’d learn. Until then…

“Fine.”

Having gone back to eating, Jaskier was silent for a moment as if trying to recall where the conversation was picking up from. “What’s fine? Oh! Me stealing when people refuse to pay you your just wage. Of course it’s fine. Don’t worry your pretty head for a moment; I’ve never been caught yet.” He waggled his fingers in Geralt’s direction. “Dexterity is name of the game when one spends one’s life dedicated to possibly the most delicate and finnicky instrument known to man.” He looked down at his gifted elven lute like it was his flesh and blood child, so loving and soft.

When he raised his head and looked at Geralt, his adoring expression didn’t change in the least.

Geralt cleared his throat and threw the hareless stick onto the fire. ‘Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

A few more large bites and Jaskier did as he was told, snuggling into his bedroll. Which Geralt had bought him when Jaskier proved that no amount of silence or disinterest would keep him from staying at Geralt’s side, praising every deed in song. He picked up the bag of coin and wandered over to Roach to tuck it safely in her saddlebag.

The horse nickered softly and seemed to throw her head repeatedly in Jaskier’s direction.

“Don’t get attached,” Geralt scolded.

Roach tilted her head in Jaskier’s direction and kept it there.

Geralt sighed and whispered into the still night air. “Thank you, Jaskier.” He patted Roach, now seemingly satisfied, and made his way to his own bedroll, set a bit behind Jaskier’s so the bard was close to the warm fire and that anything that leapt at them from the woods would have to get through Geralt before it could get to Jaskier.

He laid there, thinking about how quickly making sure the boy warm and safe had become a priority.

2. Knowing Who The Nobles Are Everywhere They Go

“Nope,” Jaskier plucked the sun-faded paper from Geralt’s hand, ignoring Geralt’s exasperated expression. “Oh no, no, no, no. Nope, you will not be taking this. Well, you will not be taking this contract with Duke Hereward. He’s an absolute bastard and will quite surely stiff you of your deserved coin. No, we’d best find where,” he squinted at the ink, “Meadwood Farms is and go straight to the farmers themselves. Hereward will weasel his weasely way out of giving you anything. I’d gladly steal anything he might have of worth-“

Geralt glanced around, hoping no one who worked for the Duke was listening, as Jaskier did not seem to understand what the word ‘discretion’ meant.

“-alas the double-edged sword of fame means if something were to go mysteriously but deservedly missing after we took our leave, I’d find my lovely new position as a professor at Oxenfurt suddenly taken from me.” He smiled at Geralt. “I need something to do during the winter while you hide away in your Witchery mountains to do… mountainous Witchery things.”

Suppressing the urge to smile, Geralt nodded towards the inn. “I’m sure someone will know who owns the farm in there.”

Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s arm and began to drag him (well, steer him as if Geralt had truly not wanted to be led, there was no way the boy, barely into his twenties, could move him) towards the inn. “Good people of Ellander!”

“Jaskier,” Geralt nearly rolled his eyes.

“Your prayers to the Great Meletile have been answered,” Jaskier continued. “Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf himself, has come to aid you with your monster problems. Merely point us to Meadwood Farms and you shall soon see why Geralt is the hero of the Continent.”

Geralt was strangely glad his body no longer had the ability to blush. Jaskier’s absolute faith in Geralt was steadfast and it made something heavy and warm settle in Geralt’s chest. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be able to feel this way, to be so… cared about.

A pretty-eyed maiden made her way over to them. She smiled brightly at Jaskier. “I work at the farm. I’d be ever so glad to lead you… and the witcher there.”

The eye rolling couldn’t be controlled this time, as Jaskier immediately brightened under her attentions. “Well lead on, good miss. I presume it’s miss?”

“It is,” she giggled.

Geralt was rather glad they barely paid any heed to him as they flirted their way across town to the countryside. “What is it?” Geralt eventually asked.

Both Jaskier and the young woman, Elzbet apparently, startled as if they’d forgotten Geralt was still there. They probably had.

“The monster,” Geralt clarification. “What is it?”

Elzbet shrugged. “I didn’t see it. I do not know. Master Prospero was the one who saw it. He’s in the big house.”

Jaskier grinned. “Yes, yes, Geralt head up to see Master Prospero. Elzbet has promised to show me a most charming little corner of the barn. Apparently, there’s an owl’s nest there.”

Geralt would turn over every coin he received for the contract if there was actually an owl’s nest anywhere in the barn. All Jaskier was likely to see was up the girl’s skirts. Stomping away with a little more force than he probably needed to use, Geralt found the farm owner and got the information he needed.

It was a nest of nekkars and Geralt has cleared them all out by that night. The reward scraped together by the workers was only a third of what Hereward had promised, but it was given in gratitude and with open hands. Prospero himself was so grateful, he offered Geralt and Jaskier a room in his home for the night, as well as their dinner that night and breakfast the next morning.

Jaskier spent most of the night trying to find a suitably dirty rhyme he approved of for owl.

“Howl. Or yowl, which I will make you do if you do not put that candle out.” Geralt said at last.

“Oh you,” Jaskier tsked as he quickly scribbled down a few more lines. “You know what that Witchery magic does to me.” He winked.

Geralt buried his head further into the pillow. “Didn’t get enough with your farm girl?”

Jaskier gasped, affronted. “Excuse you, Elzbet is more than a farm girl, she is the love of my life.” He sighed dreamily. “I might stay, you know. With her.”

“Better her than me,” Geralt grumbled.

“I know you don’t truly mean those words or I’d be heartbroken beyond repair to hear you say that,” Jaskier shrugged out of his doublet and pinched out the candle flame between his licked fingers. “But what if I did? Stay?”

Geralt huffed. “You’d make a piss poor farmer.”

Jaskier laughed lightly. “Probably true.” He sighed. “Would you miss me?”

“Go to sleep, Jaskier,” Geralt said in lieu of an actual answer. “If you’re to be a farmer, you must get used to early mornings.”

Humming thoughtfully, Jaskier settled down, the line of his back just an inch away from Geralt’s in the bed. “Good night, Geralt.”

In the morning, Jaskier packed and took his place at Geralt’s side. He tried out lyrics and chords and by the time he and Geralt made camp that night, Jaskier had a new ballad. It was about love between a wanderer and a maiden, whom he loved but left to follow the open road he had long ago promised his heart to, his truest love.

Though he never actually sang the word road, Geralt realized as he watched Jaskier sing it a week later in a tavern. The song itself was called Walking The Path.

3. Gwent

“Dammit,” Geralt growled as he threw down his remaining card. A clear weather was useless when there were no weather cards in effect. The score was tied, but his opponent played with a Nilfgaardian deck and therefore won all ties.

The smarmy git was smiling at him like a smarmy git. “Fair is fair,” he held out a hand, “I’ll be taking your unique card now.”

It was lying next to the card the other man had anted up in the center of the table, but clearly humiliation was part of his winnings.

Geralt picked up the card and dropped it into the other man’s hand. “Here.”

“Better luck next time,” the bastard called out and he gestured another player to take Geralt’s place.

He still had all the coin he’d won, the cards had been the only prizes in that last round, so Geralt went over to the bar and ordered two ales and a glass of wine.

By the time he was picking up the second mug of ale, Jaskier had finished his set and bounded over, downing the wine in one go as always and ordering himself another.

“What’s this face? Is my singing truly that bad? Please know, if you say anything about pie, I will be forced to waste this lovely wine on your rude head.” Geralt grunted. “Singing was fine. Lost my game is all.”

Jaskier tilted his head. “You were winning when I last checked in on you.” He looked at his glass. “Do you need some coin? I got a fair amount tonight, people around here are very anti-Nilfgaard and my lovely little ditty went a treat. You must have heard the cheers.”

Geralt nodded. He had. In between games, he’d kept his eye on Jaskier. The djinn incident was two weeks ago, but this was Jaskier’s first performance since he almost lost his voice. And life.

The bard had been nervous and Geralt hadn’t even started playing gwent until the anxious scent faded into his usual confident burst of sundried linen and mint. The crowd was just as adoring, just as loud as always. Jaskier’s voice hadn’t suffered any permanent damage and Geralt was relieved. After all, his unthinking words had been the reason Geralt had almost lost… that Jaskier had almost lost his voice.

“Not coin,” Geralt said at last, draining his mug. “Lost my best card though. Drew an unlucky hand and couldn’t seem to bring it back around. Ended in a draw, but the bastard played as Nilfgaard so he took the tie.”

Jaskier frowned. “No chance to get it back?”

Geralt shrugged. “He plays here a lot, apparently. Has rules about only one match per opponent.” He shook his head. “Nothing for it.”

Putting down his half full glass, Jaskier nodded. “Right, well then.” He turned and headed towards the tables set up for cards.

“Jaskier?” Geralt blinked at the space the bard had occupied a second ago. “Jaskier?”

Jaskier was already standing in front of the bastard.

Geralt couldn’t remember his name, wasn’t even sure he’d been told who he’d been playing against.

Jaskier’s relaxed ease was gone, instead his shoulders hunched up, making him look for all the world like an angry cat about to take a chunk out of the next person who tried to pet it. “Valdo Marx,” Jaskier hissed out like the very letters of the name offended him.

Huh. Geralt looked at the man who’d defeated him.

Valdo looked up with a beatific smile. “Julian, is that you? I did think I heard your particular brand of empty words and trite notes in that boyish tenor of yours.”

Now no longer just upset about the card, Geralt’s fingers twitched towards his sword. Sure, he’d not exactly complimented Jaskier’s songs recently, but his insult was born of trying to offend the man into shutting up so Geralt could find the damnable djinn and get some fucking sleep.

Which, looking back, was a useless attempt as Jaskier had been drunk and Drunk Jaskier was even more prone to rambling than Sober Jaskier.

“Normally, I’d be quite glad to just punch you in the nose,” Jaskier smirked, “again.”

Taking a closer look, Geralt did notice that Valdo’s nose was slightly crooked. As if broken a few too many times.

“But if seems you have some pretentious rule about not allowing people to win their losings back from you like an honourable gentleman would.” Jaskier crossed his arms. “So I’ll play you for Geralt’s card.”

Valdo blinked blankly. “Geralt?”

Jaskier clucked his tongue as he sat down. “My goodness, you are out of touch. Everyone on the Continent knows I sing of Geralt of Rivia, heroic Witcher of legend and my very best friend in the whole world.”

Geralt didn’t bother to object.

“Then again, you rarely get to leave Cidaris, don’t you?” Jaskier produced his gwent deck and began to shuffle it. “I often wonder how you’d do in a town you didn’t grow up in? But then your father’s money wouldn’t be there to buy you a court position now would it? Has he bought you a title yet?”

Though Jaskier couldn’t see it, perhaps because Jaskier couldn’t see it, Geralt grinned broadly at that.

Valdo grinned back nastily, revealing he had a missing canine tooth as well. “If he did, at least one of us would use their title to make a difference to their homeland. Tell me, Julian,” he laid out his deck and dealt himself a hand, “when did you last visit Lettenhove? Or do you still think wandering amongst the common folk singing dirty songs in dirty taverns is the proper way a viscount should behave? Whatever would your mother day?”

Geralt watched Jaskier’s grip on his own hand tighten, just slightly. “Just play, Marx.”

Huh. Apparently Jaskier wasn’t making the whole viscount thing up.

“Oh now now,” Valdo laid down his hand, “we haven’t set terms yet. You want the Witcher’s card, right? This one,” he picked it up and flipped it along the back of his hand. “But what will you bet? I never play for anything as gauche as coin. Some of us get wages, not a handful of coins in a dusty lute case. Actually,” Valdo leaned forward, “that’s what we’ll play for. Your pretty lute. See if you can perform in royal courts without your maaaagical little instrument.”

“No.”

Jaskier and Valdo both snapped their attention to Geralt.

“No,” he repeated. Jaskier’s lute was his livelihood, his most precious possession. Geralt wanted his card back, but not at that price. Jaskier was a clever player, Geralt knew, but Valdo’s deck was evil, full of spies and scorch cards. “Not the lute. Choose something else.”

Valdo shook his head. “Don’t think I will,” he turned back to Jaskier. “You bet your lute or I walk away and your witcher never sees his card again.”

Geralt put a hand out to grab Jaskier’s shoulder and urge him up to their room, but Jaskier just nodded. “It’s a bet. Play, Marx.”

Worry came over Geralt and he found himself pacing behind Jaskier, trying not to look at his cards because then he’d know if Jaskier had a good hand and if he didn’t…

If Jaskier lost his lute, he’d be crushed. Geralt would buy him another; he’d have to. But to lose the lute Filavandrel had given him… Jaskier always said it brought him luck, sounded sweeter than all others, even when slightly out of tune.

“It will always remind me of the day my life changed forever,” he’d smile at it, then at Geralt.

Geralt still hadn’t worked out whether he meant the day he wrote the song that made him famous or the day he learned the world was much more complicated than his human-written studies might have led him to believe.

Geralt watched as Jaskier’s hand dwindled to two cards.

Valdo still had half a dozen.

It was the last hand; both had won a turn and this would decide the winner.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Geralt closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to meditate or at least clear his mind. He still had his winnings from the other matches he’d played tonight. He had no idea how much a lute cost, but he’s fairly sure he’d be able to cover it. Did this town even have a shop that might carry one? It was only just inside the borders of Cidaris, not a particularly large village now that Geralt thought about it.

“You,” he heard a hiss, “cheated.”

Jaskier was smiling. “I did no such thing. I merely used your same tactics against you.” He held out a hand. “The card. Unless you’d like to try and win it back?”

Valdo spit out some words in Elder as he threw the card at Jaskier and stomped out like a petulant child.

Geralt was rusty and only caught every few words. Something about Jaskier’s bedroom habits and something else about being a pathetic, he thinks the word was supposed to mean hound or something like that. One phrase that Geralt did catch, as he’d heard it assigned to him once or twice before translated to ‘unlovable’.

Jaskier sat frozen through the tirade and when Geralt rounded the table, he found Jaskier’s eyes to be far more full of wrath and pain than it ought to for someone who had just won a game against a rival.

His face schooled into a triumphant grin, though there was still a sheen of sadness in his eyes. “Your card, Geralt.”

Geralt took it gently, sliding out his deck into order to tuck it away. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, if I lost I was thinking of just stabbing him and making a run for it,” Jaskier waved a hand.

“It’s not that important,” Geralt insisted, ten minutes later as they readied for bed. “It wasn’t worth risking your lute. If you’d lost it. It’s more precious to you than everything, else you’ve said so yourself.”

Jaskier looked up from folding his doublet and smiled, not his cheeky performance grins but a small, genuine thing. “Not everything. Now,” he sat on the edge of the bed and tugged off his boots, “may I see the card I won from Marx in what is going to be immortalized into an incredibly epic song as soon as I come up with a rhyme for ‘thrice broken nose’?”

Geralt took it out and handed it over.

It was a fairly new card for the Northern Kingdoms deck. An ashen haired little girl pouted in a frilly pink dress, clearly displeased at being painted.

“Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Princess of Cintra,” Jaskier read. He handed back the card but his hand hovered, as if he might reach out for Geralt’s shoulder or even his cheek. “Yes, this is something worth taking a risk for, no question. …15 points and all,” he said after a moment, when he realized Geralt wasn’t responded. “Course I missed the opportunity of stabbing Marx, but I’ve no doubt the chance will arise again someday.” He laid down and stared at the ceiling.

“Jaskier,” Geralt began, finding his words dry up when those beautiful (when did he start thinking of Jaskier’s eyes as beautiful?) blue eyes blinked up at him. “I… th- you played well.”

A pleased and nearly shy look came over Jaskier’s face. “I know how much you enjoy it. Just wanted to be sure I’d be a worthy opponent for you, dearest witcher.” He stared at Geralt a moment longer, as if looking for something in his face. He shook his head slightly as if coming out of a dream. “Goodnight, Geralt.” Jaskier turned and faced the wall.

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed as he laid down, facing the opposite wall. “Goodnight. Jaskier.”

4. Sailing

Geralt surveyed the people sitting around the table and frowned to notice one missing. “Where’s Jaskier?”

“Went fishing,” Eskel said off hand, jumping right back into his conversation with Coën.

“He what?”

Lambert looked up from his gwent match with Ciri, “He took my boat and went fishing. Said he wouldn’t be much help in a hunt, but this way he wouldn’t be and I quote, ‘useless’ and he could be a ‘worthy winter companion’.”

Geralt winced. He’d apologized for his harsh words on the mountain and Jaskier had forgiven him. But it seems some of the hurt from that day still lingered.

“Where did he go?”

Eskel and Lambert exchanged a look.

“I don’t know his coordinates,” Lambert answered.

“Dammit!” Geralt barely kept himself from hitting the table; he didn’t want to scare Ciri, who had put her cards down and was watching the scene with interest. “You know what’s out there. Drowners and bears and I’m not sure we entirely destroyed that harpy nest from last winter and-“

“And he assured us he could handle it,” Eskel said.

Geralt growled. “He’s human! He could get hurt.”

Coën piped up at last. “Jaskier went north from the lakeside hut.” When all eyes turned to him, Coën shrugged, “He wanted to know where the good fishing spots are. I told him.”

Spinning on his heel, Geralt headed for the door to the keep, grabbing a silver sword from a rack of them on the way. He had a location and a direction. He could pick up Jaskier’s scent from there.

Geralt hadn’t bothered to grab a coat and the winter winds bit through his leather and linen clothes almost immediately. It didn’t matter. Jaskier had been alone in the wilds for who knows how long and even without the monsters and the beasts, there were dangers. The bard could overbalance and tumble into the icy waters. What if he hadn’t thought to grab warmer clothes? Geralt picked up speed, wishing he’d thought to bring Roach. Wishing he’d thought about anything other than running to get to Jaskier and…

And he wasn’t sure what would happen after. He just… needed to know that Jaskier was all right. That he was safe. He hadn’t been safe, Geralt sighed to himself as he ran, after Geralt had snapped at him.

Geralt was sure it was just another spat; that he’d arrive back at camp and Jaskier would be there very pointedly writing a song about a heartless cad who was mean to his very best friend in the whole wide world. Jaskier had a good half dozen songs like it already, this would be one more.

Only he wasn’t there. Geralt arrived to find Roach eating the last of the apples Jaskier had packed just for her and giving Geralt a very judgmental look. “Leave off,” he growled at her as he packed up what was left and led her down the mountain. “We’ll pick him up in town and you two can whisper about how mean I am.”

But Jaskier wasn’t in town either. Nor could anyone say which way he went. Geralt cursed then like he cursed now, seeing the roof of the hut by the lake and yet no sign of Jaskier.

Bad things happened when Jaskier went off alone. Geralt shook his head to rid himself of the image of Jaskier, strung up by his hands, those beautiful talented livelihood-making hands threatened and Jaskier said nothing, gave no secrets away. Some because he didn’t know and some because he…

Geralt doesn’t know why Jaskier didn’t break, except he does. The man is brave, he’s stupid and criminally loud, but he is also the most loyal man Geralt has ever known. Steel dressed in silk.

Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, Geralt picked up Jaskier’s scent. It’s his soap and sweat and Geralt knows it like he knows his own.

Jaskier has the only boat and Geralt doesn’t fancy a swim, so he sticks to the shoreline, eyes casting about for any signs of danger or Jaskier.

Geralt very specifically tries to avoid thinking about danger AND Jaskier, which means that is all his brain will show him. Images of Jaskier surrounded by drowners, of a boat floating listlessly because the man at the rudder had been torn to pieces by harpies, a bear raising its blood-covered maw with a scrap of bright fabric caught in its teeth.

The last thing he’s thinking is that he will come upon Jaskier peacefully hauling a net of fish into the boat, adding the larger ones to a bucket next to him. So of course, that’s how the story goes.

“Geralt?” Jaskier called, eyes as round and surprised as the fish wriggling its last throes in his hands. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is everyone okay?”

Jaskier dropped the net thoughtlessly onto the boat’s hull and with a series of quick and efficient movements, had the boat floating over to where Geralt stood on the shore. The bard hopped over the side and hurried to Geralt, hands twitching as if he wanted to check the witcher over for any injuries. “Geralt?”

“What the hell were you thinking?”

A frown coming to rest on his face, Jaskier put his hands on his slim hips. “What was I thinking? What were you thinking? You’re going to catch your death without a coat, yes I know,” he said as Geralt opened his mouth, “witchers can’t catch colds, immune systems, mutagens, blah blah,” he went back to the boat and finished sorting the fish, “blah. What could possibly have happened that you hurried all the way from Kaer Morhen without so much as a single piece of armour or a cloak?” He turned, suddenly serious. “Is everyone all right? Is Ciri all right? She’s not ill, is she? Did she take a tumble on the training course?”

Touched by how much Jaskier cares about Ciri, despite having known her a relatively short time, Geralt shook his head. “She’s fine. Everyone is fine.”

“Then what in the name of Meletile, Freya and any other four gods you would care to name are you doing here?”

Geralt wished he’d spent less time thinking about the past and more time thinking about the future as he ran. He’s starting to get used to that feeling in general. “You weren’t there.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened, then softened. “Surely someone told you I’d gone fishing? I let everyone know. I didn’t,” he smiled sardonically, “think you’d even notice.”

“Why?”

Head tilted like a puppy, Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “Why did I go fishing or why did I think you wouldn’t notice? I went fishing because everyone does something at Kaer Morhen. I don’t,” he sighed, “have anything but music to offer and I’m well aware of your opinions on that. I assume your fellow witchers share them and also your witcher hearing, hence my lute case gathers dust. I do, however, know how to sail a boat, catch some fish, and cook said fish. So I thought I would make myself useful. As for you not noticing, well, I’m hardly your first priority here and,” he quickly added, “I understand completely. I shouldn’t be. Ciri comes first, always, of course. Hell, I wasn’t your first priority when we traveled together. Roach was. Speaking of, where is she? You couldn’t have tied her up too far away now.” Jaskier looked at the tree line as if a large mare would suddenly appear.

“I… didn’t bring her,” Geralt said, shame slowly rising in him at Jaskier’s words. Geralt couldn’t refute any of them. He hadn’t noticed the lack of music, assuming Jaskier still played in his room. As for when they travelled together, it hurt deep in Geralt’s gut that Jaskier thought he wasn’t a priority to Geralt. His words were often harsh, but Geralt made sure Jaskier had enough food and hunted more to ensure that he would. He bought Jaskier a warmer, if less stylish, cloak that had seen the bard through most of his twenties.

Jaskier had hefted a bucket of fish in his arms and just stared blankly at Geralt. “You… didn’t bring Roach? You, what, walked all the way here?”

Geralt’s eye twitched. “I ran.”

“For Meletile’s sake, why?”

“There’s…” Geralt cleared his throat, “drowners around. Sometimes. And bears. There might be some harpies left over from a nest we destroyed last winter.”

Jaskier settled the bucket back into the boat. “Were you… worried about me?”

Geralt nodded. Words were awkward and he wished to use as few as possible.

A look not unlike something like wonder crossed Jaskier’s face. “Oh. I… oh. I’m,” he spread his arms as if presenting himself, “fine. As you see. I… guess we should head back.” He gestured towards the boat. “I’ve a decently sized haul. I can make use of this for a while.” Jaskier stood in the shallow water, “Climb on in, and I’ll take us back.”

Geralt didn’t move.

“Oh,” Jaskier looked abashed. “Unless you’d prefer to steer?”

“No,” Geralt shook his head. “You can steer.”

He could. As Geralt had seen, Jaskier clearly knew his way not only around fishery, but sailing.

Jaskier nodded again to the boat and Geralt stepped in, settling at the bow.

Proving him right, Jaskier shoved them into the water and hauled himself over the side, quickly settling at the rudder and turning them around to head back towards Kaer Morhen.

Geralt cast a glance into the bucket of fish, seeing a few other smaller ones surrounding it. Several fish stared unblinkingly at Geralt as he stared back.

Jaskier hummed then cut himself off when he realized he was doing so, with a nervous glance at Geralt.

He wanted to say something. Tell Jaskier the humming was fine with him. That he should get out his lute and play for them. That Geralt wanted to hear his music, his voice. That the fillingless pie comment all those years ago hadn’t been a slight to Jaskier’s singing but the content of his songs, so many full of dirty humour or exaggerated lies.

All he could manage was “You sail good.”

Staring just as wide-eyed and unblinking as the fish, Jaskier slowly said, “Thank… you… I, uh,” he looked back at the water, “grew up on the coast. Been sailing since I was strong enough to move a rudder. Fishing even longer.”

“Why didn’t you fish that day? You could have caught your own.” Geralt winced as his words were said. Jaskier wasn’t focusing on that day with the djinn. He’d need to be specific.

But Jaskier was already answering, “I was heartbroken and near blind drunk,” he laughed, light and slightly forced. “I’d have fallen in as soon as I bent over to grab the net, hence why I was hoping you would share your haul.” He pursed his lips. “Rather wish I hadn’t, looking back.”

Geralt found himself stuck for words again. They came easy with his brothers in arms. Even with Ciri, he found himself managing to find words of comfort or encouragement when it seemed she needed them.

But Jaskier had always made things complicated for Geralt, since the day they’d met. He could annoy Geralt like nobody and nothing else; Jaskier got himself into trouble on a fairly regular basis, was fussy about his clothes and hair, and could talk the hind legs off a donkey while never saying a blessed thing of worth.

But damn if Geralt didn’t want him there, in all his messy and loud glory. He wanted Jaskier safe and, as recent events had shown, Jaskier was safest at Geralt’s side, because Geralt would move heaven and earth, call upon any help and damn the cost, to keep Jaskier so.

Geralt was in love with Jaskier. The revelation felt both sudden and slow at once. Like he’d been falling in love so quietly and steadily, there was no way to point to the day or hour that he’d actually fallen.

“Fuck.”

Jaskier, lost in daydreams, started. “What’s the matter now?”

“I,” Geralt scrambled for something to say. Should he tell Jaskier he loved him? No, that was absurd. Jaskier, for all his lingering stares and the near constant scent of lust that used to surround him, didn’t love Geralt as more than a friend, if that. Lust was not love, Geralt knew that well. He was with him for the songs and the safety. Sure, Jaskier cared for Geralt, he said it often enough, but he didn’t love him. Like how Geralt was realizing he loved Jaskier.

Who was staring at him expectantly.

At least this time, Geralt kept his annoyed at himself ‘fuck’ inside his head. “I was thinking of all the times we could have taken the river, instead of the roads.” He found words, though he wasn’t sure they were the right ones. “If I’d known you could sail. We could have… sailed. Before now.”

Jaskier dropped his eyes to the bottom of the boat, then turned away as if needing to check where he was going, as if he hadn’t been steering blind for the past several minutes, instinctive. “Ah. I’m sorry. Maybe I should have told you. Though we weren’t often by the,” a slight hesitation, “the coast.”

“You’re doing very well.” Geralt twitched his lips into as big a smile as he could manage and still felt it came up short.

But Jaskier’s visible cheek rose in a smile. “Thank you, Geralt.”

5. Sword Fighting

A whirl of light green and silver flashed from Geralt’s side, a movement near dancelike in its fluidity, accompanied by a whisper that sounded almost like counting.

Geralt turned just in time to see the bandit’s surprised face before his cleaved straight through torso fell, leaving the remains of his trunk and his lower body to fall to the ground a couple seconds after his head and shoulders had.

Jaskier stood behind the now deceased bandit, blood splattered all over his outfit and his face, still twisted into a mask of wrath. The sword in his hand was red with blood, silver glinting through the drops.

Geralt thinks it’s possible he has never been so turned on in his whole life and he’s going to have a good long talk with himself about why that might be later on.

The moment passed and Jaskier lowered the sword, wiping it on the deserter’s trousers. “Oh blast, sorry about that Geralt, I’ll clean all the blood off properly once we get back to camp. No worries. I know it’s silver for monsters,” he sneered at the dead man and then at the others who had foolishly decided to try to rob a witcher and his companion, “but I rather think it’s still apt. I’ll pay for the repair at the next blacksmith we come across if I damaged it too much.” He held the blade at eye level and examined it. “I think it’s mostly all right and Geralt are you okay? They didn’t manage to knock you in the head, did they? You’ve been staring at me for the past few minutes.”

Geralt was trying to sear the image of Jaskier looking over the blade as if, as if he KNOWS what to look for in a damaged sword. A sword he had used to kill a man creeping up on Geralt. A sword he had welded with deadly and graceful precision. Geralt’s own sword.

A very, very long talk. Possibly in the cold stream they’d just come from before they’d been ambushed.

Jaskier leaned past Geralt to sheathe the sword into its place across the witcher’s back and the spicy smell of anger had dissipated completely into Jaskier’s usual chamomile and honey concern scent. Underlaid by the copper of the blood.

It took a good deal of self-discipline for Geralt to not outright whine when Jaskier laid a warm hand on his cheek, tilting his head to check for injuries.

“Your pupils are very round, darling,” Jaskier said, the endearment he used so often sounded like music to Geralt. “Are you injured? I could grab you a potion if you are. Or maybe you’re just tired.” Jaskier dropped his hand and turned back to where they had laid down their belongings when the first men broke through the cover of the trees, using speed and surprise over strategy.

Geralt was sure he’d had them all until… until Jaskier killed the man who had managed to sneak up on him. Who would have put a sword through Geralt if not for Jaskier’s quick action and Geralt circled back to the image of Jaskier, bloody and snarling like a feral animal as he cut the man down with no hesitation.

A very, very long talk in a very, very cold stream.

Jaskier whistled and Roach came from her hiding spot in the trees. He patted her neck and dug through her saddlebags. “Geralt, are you out of Swallow? We have the spirit and the celandine but I think we might need to head towards the coast so you can cut down some drowners for their brains.” He smiled brightly. “Maybe they’ll be a contract for them as well. And a tavern that appreciates fine music. We could have a va- a very nice day. Or two.” Jaskier ducked his head and pink bloomed in his cheeks.

Geralt found his hand lifting of its own accord and landing on Jaskier’s shoulder.

The bard turned expectantly, then frowned when after a moment Geralt didn’t say or do anything else. “Geralt?” His voice was soft, the scent of his concern drew stronger. “Geralt, are you sure you’re okay? You seem stunned or something. Are you sure you didn’t take a hit to the head?”

“Sword,” Geralt said at last.

“He speaks,” Jaskier smiled briefly. “He speaks nonsense, but he speaks. What about a sword? I already told you I’d take care of any repairs needed after my impromptu maneuver. I don’t think there’s any permanent damage done. It wasn’t even that difficult. You have very good moves, dear.”

Geralt blinked as he realized where he’d seen the move Jaskier had performed. It was one he’d been taught at the School of The Wolf. Jaskier used one of Geralt’s own moves. One of his Witcher moves. To save his life. “That was… that was a witcher move. How did you…” he couldn’t even finish his question.

Jaskier shrugged. “I’ve followed you for over two decades, Geralt. On and off, sure, but still. I’ve seen you fight nearly every creature you could come across. Including bastards like those,” he nonchalantly tossed his head towards the dead men on the ground, his fringe flicking back into his eyes boyishly. “I memorized the moves you use. Granted, I’ve mostly practiced on training dummies and sparring partners, but I’ve run across my fair share of evil and desperate men before.”

“That… wasn’t your first kill?”

“Gods no,” Jaskier tilted his head and scrunched up his nose as he calculated. “Maybe my… dozenth? Or so. Now I tried not to pick up a sword unless necessary but that gutless bastard,” he spit at the man’s bisected body, “was in your blind spot. You probably would have managed to parry, but I didn’t want to take the chance.” Jaskier smiled. “Good thing too, now that we know you’re out of Swallow. Here,” he held out a canteen of water, “drink this. Get your strength back.”

Geralt took the canteen and drank slowly to give himself time to readjust his worldview on Jaskier. “Did you… count? When you were…”

Jaskier nodded. “Oh yes. Your movements are so like a dancer’s that I memorized them to a beat.” He smirked. “I’ll make a ballad out of them some day. I’m still in the habit of the counting, but eventually I’ll stop needing that, I suppose.”

“Right,” Geralt said, nodding as if he wasn’t imaging Jaskier, in plain shirt and tight trousers, sparring with Geralt on the grounds of Kaer Morhen. A blink and it was a different kind of sparring. In a bedroom. “Huh.”

“Well,” Jaskier said, as he dug back through the saddlebag, “there’s some White Raffard’s if push comes to shove. Makes sense after that last nest of nekkars. Frightful creatures by the way, possibly my least favourite of them all. Though you’re low on White Honey as well, so hopefully we can find a herbalist and stock up a bit before you have to do any major fighting. ”I’m glad now that I all but raided Oxenfurt’s gardens before I joined you for Spring. Got plenty of honeysuckle in my bag and I’m sure we can find some white myrtle with no problem this time of year. Where’s your alcohest, dear? I’m sure Lambert didn’t let you leave Kaer Morhen without every type of spirit known to man.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, unable to take it anymore. “We need to get back to camp.”

Jaskier whirled around and looked at Geralt then up at the sky, the sun slowly descending in the late afternoon light. “Oh you’re right. Best head back now before we lose the light. Pity we had to have that fight after the nice splash we’d had in that stream. Do you think there’s time to wash again before we head back?”

Geralt nodded. “Yes. Let’s do that first, getting clean again. That’s a very, very good idea.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier hummed, “I didn’t expect that answer from Mr Uses Monster Guts As Shampoo.”

“We’re going to need to get very clean,” Geralt said, “because as soon as we get back to camp I am going to fuck you.”

Jaskier froze. “Whaaaat did you just say? Geralt, I think I misheard you.”

Geralt shrugged. “Or you can fuck me. After seeing you fight like that, I’m letting you choose how we do it.”

“Seeing me fight.” Jaskier opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find which of the many words he had at his disposal he wished to use.

“Or I could just suck you off, if you’d prefer that instead.”

“Geralt of Rivia. Geralt… Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde and I have never been more grateful for the night Vesemir got drunk and shared stories of your youth, I need you to be very, very serious about that offer.” Jaskier licked his lips. “Because I would very much like to take you up on it and if… if it’s just for the night, I don’t rightly think we should risk our… ye gods, you’ve never even called me your friend and here you are offering sex as if… is this just because you feel obligated? I’m sure you would have moved just in time but I couldn’t risk letting that man hurt you and-“

Geralt reached out and pulled Jaskier close, which shut the bard up. A trick Geralt was wishing he’d let himself try before. “I am very serious. If you want it to be for the night, it’s just for the night. It could be a more… formal arrangement if you’d prefer that.”

Jaskier dropped his head to Geralt’s shoulder and breathed out heavily. “I died, didn’t I? I misjudged the distance and the bandit killed me and this is heaven. I didn’t think I’d go to heaven. Huh.”

“Not dead,” Geralt said, lifting a hand to thread through Jaskier’s hair. “Not letting you die. Ever. Especially now that I know how well you fight. You’re living just as long as I am. Don’t know how. I’ll ask Yen, maybe she’ll know of some-“

“Okay,” Jaskier took a step back. “Now, now you’re just being… you want to ask Yennefer, a very very scary witch that you sleep with on the regular-“

Geralt shrugged. “Going to have to stop that now that I have you.”

A high-pitched whine issued from Jaskier’s throat. “I’m going to need you to stop saying things like that if you don’t mean them… how I… ho- expe- think you mean them.”

“I mean them how you think I mean them,” Geralt said. “Most likely. I mean that I would very much like to take you back to our camp and check at least a few things off the mental list of sexual acts we’ve both been compiling right now.”

Jaskier squeaked, “Both?”

Geralt nodded. “I would very much like to do so tomorrow night and for as many nights as you want me. And to extend your allotment of nights somehow. Yennefer has been searching arcane magic things for decades, surely she’s found some anti-ageing or immortality spell by this point. She wouldn’t have needed it, but I’m sure she would have made note of any.”

“Sure she can’t make me younger before she does that?’ Jaskier asked, relying on humour to help him deal with the inrush of information he was being given.

Tilting his head, Geralt looked Jaskier over very thoroughly, noting with some satisfaction what effect his assessing stare had on the state of Jaskier’s trousers. “I like you as you are now. Not the whelp that followed me when It was stupid and dangerous. You’re a grown man now. You’ve filled out. I like how you look.”

Jaskier ran a hand through his hair. “Pardon me if this all seems very sudden.”

“Not sudden,” Geralt said. “I’ve liked how you looked for years.”

“You never said anything.”

Geralt smirked slightly. “I know you’ve lusted for me. I can smell arousal. You never said anything either.”

Jaskier flailed again. “You didn’t consider me your friend, so forgive me for assuming ‘Hey Geralt, you’re the most bloody gorgeous person I’ve ever seen in my whole life would you like to bed me and then marry me’ wouldn’t go down very well.”

“I thought,” Geralt started, “you only wanted to follow me for the songs. For the fame and coin it earns you. It’s why you started following me.”

Struck speechless, Jaskier just stared.

Geralt continued. “I’ve thought of you as my friend, but I didn’t think you thought of me as yours. Until you saved me. Until you learned how I fight in case you ever needed to save me. Until you knew what my potions do and which ones they are. All the little things you’ve done for me throughout the years make sense now. I know friendship. That’s not friendship; it’s love.”

“I have loved you since,” Jaskier waved a hand theatrically, “since you told the elves to let me go. Since you let me stay with you even though you could have outrun me easily on Roach. You hunted enough for two and laid our bedrolls close so I wouldn’t freeze on cold nights and especially after the mountain, you’ve barely let me out of your sight and… oh my gods, I am thick, aren’t I? I am so thick! I am Mr. Thick Thick Thickety Thickface from Thicktown, Thickania. You don’t talk, you do. That was your way of… of… saying how you feel. Isn’t it?”

Geralt hummed and nodded.

Jaskier’s smile could have outshone the lovely sunset happening somewhere behind them. “You love me. Geralt, you… love me. Like I love you. Oh my gods, are you sure I’m not dead? Or having the most wonderful dream? This is real,” he took a step closer and reached out cautiously to pull Geralt into his arms. “This is real, right?”

“It’s real,” Geralt nodded again.

A laugh bubbled out of Jaskier, eliciting a smaller but no less sincere one from Geralt. “If I wasn’t covered in blood, I would be kissing you alre-“

Geralt leaned in and pressed their lips together, relishing the happy gasp Jaskier made against his mouth. “Hmm, I’m bloody too.”

Jaskier kissed Geralt, a small peck and then another. “Where was that stream again?”

Geralt pulled back and took Jaskier’s hand, guiding him in the dimming light. “I won’t be bedding you and then marrying you,” he said.

Confusion scrunched up Jaskier’s face before he realized what he had said before. “Oh bollocks, I didn’t mean that- necessarily- I don’t- where would we find a priest or priestess any- I wasn’t suggesting-”

“We have to have some courting time before we should even think about marrying,” Geralt continued. “it’s only proper.”

“Right,” Jaskier nodded so fast, it was a miracle his head didn’t fly away. “Right, right, right, right. Of course, of course, of course. Proper… proper courting. Geralt?” he asked as they arrived at the stream. “I love you. I just… can I say that now? Because I’ve wanted to say it so many times and I’ve been biting it back for years and I just… I just love you.”

Geralt smiled. “I love you too.”

+1

Wow,” Geralt said, staring up at the ceiling. “That’s how you manage to get away with those abysmal pickup lines. I mean… wow.” His heart was racing so fast it almost sounded human after the passionate, athletic and frankly innovative sex they’d just had. "I always did think it would be good."

He didn’t need to turn to see Jaskier’s smug smile, but he did anyway.

Jaskier’s grin was wide and stretched his cheeks even higher than normal. He tossed his sweaty fringe out of his face and kissed Geralt, deeply, slowly, perfectly. “You’re welcome.”

[fakeloveaskblog]

Yay lasertag!!! Janus you should totally go visit Remus on the weekend and hang out! Also, maybe invite Remy too, if they wanna come. Then (specially if they don't show) you can plan with them both to maybe go on another hangout with Remus but to somewhere you like and let Remy tag along for the ride if they wanna while u're at it.

(Words: 3153 words)

Janus: "Ah yes! I will let you know that after hanging out with Remus I managed to use my incredible totally very good texting skills to ask the Rems if they wanted to go to an art museum and they both for some reaosn, maybe they are being blackmailed, said yes! I hope it will go g-"

He cut himself off as he saw the two Rems come towards him. He had been waiting outside the museum. (Honestly half the reason he had choosen it was because he knew Remus liked art)

Remus waved at him while grinning. He had on sweatpants, a way too large t-shirt and a necklace made out of animal bones. Remy had their arm swung around him. Even though they had sunglasses on their eyebags were still visible.

“Aight gamers! Are we ready to do an epic art heist!! I got my sunglasses ready!” Remus exclaimed. He didn’t, he was planning on stealing Remy’s sunglasses.

“Partner you’re forgetting that we must first observe the security measures of the museum before we can even start to plan the heist” Janus replied.

“Oh!!! That’s what we’re doing today isn’t it??”

“Correct partner!”

“Babes I dunno why you gotta steal art when I’m standing right here” Remy added while posing.

“Good point. Good point” 

Janus had on a yellow bowtie he’d gotten from Logan, a loose purple shirt and black dress pants. People had to look fancy when they went to museums right? Remy had a skirt short enough to fool god and their boyfriend’s hoodie on (it looked oversized on them but with how skinny they were Everything looked oversized on them).

As soon as they got in Remus started to bounce up and down as he looked at the posters showing all the different exhibitions. There was a modern art one, classical and one smaller exhibition for specifically mosaic works.

“So whatcha you wanna look at Snakey?” Remus asked.

Janus was caught of guard “Why are you asking me?”

“Well you chose how we would hang out. C’mon you deserve to choose this too”

He looked over to Remy who shrugged “Uhm okay. Well. The classical paintings would proably give us the most money on the black market so lets look at those”

“Yay!” 

Remus quickly took on his noise canceling headphones and a chew necklace before doing thumbs up. He firmly took Janus’ hand in his. He sent him a soft smile which made Jan’s heart spin before dashing of with him into the exhibition.

A few big paintings from the renaissance hung on the wall. Remy came a little later since with the cane they walked pretty slow. Remus eyed the paintings from a distance before squinting at them up close. He flapped the hand he was hoding Janus with around.

"Oh!!! This is so cool!!!! This is from the renaissance but it's not using the chiaro oscuro technique like everyone did 'cause Da Vinci would eat their newborn if they didnt!”

"Is that why it's looking flatter than me?" Remy asked.

“YEah!! Augh I love the renaissance!!! Mostly because they were dissecting bodies so much!! sometimes for the sole purpose of drawing anatomy better!! I wanna do that! Or watch someone do that! Getting to see one of those old classrooms where they dissected corpses would be so awesome!”

“Huh good way to get rid of bodies. Great time for serial killers” Janus commented.

He let out a dreamy sigh “It truly was. They’re doing serial killers dirty nowadays”

They went through some more rooms of renaissance paintings. Janus made sure to hold Remus back a bit so Remy could keep up with them. The duke kept rambling about different shading techniques.

They stepped into another room and the style changed. Remus continued to flap his hand nonetheless. Janus was definitely going to have pain in his wrist tomorrow. It was worth it if he could hold his hand though.

Remy leaned their elbow on top of Janus’ head “This is like the baroque time right?”

“YEah!” Remus’ eyes went huge “Bean you didn’t tell me you were into art history??! Do you know about Ruben too?? I like how he paints butts!”

“What? Nah. I just- I can like see it on the clothes in the paintings. Can’t you?”

“Do I look like a time traveling fashiong guru” Janus replied sarcastically “That is honestly impressive”

Remy sunk in on themself and a hint of red appeared on their cheeks “No. Nah. I’m like a total airhead! Completel idiot! hehe I’m like tots sure everyone knows this stuff. Y’all are just bad at fashion. I uh anyway Rem you were gonna rant?”

“I was?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh....Okay!!” He looked around the room before getting caught on a small painting in the corner. He dashed over to it “HANds!”

The painting depicted 2 bloody hands over a table. They were holding onto each other. the red stuck out against the dark background. It was hard to see if they were supposed to belong to two people who were fighting or in love.

Remus looked down at Janus’ hand while playing with his fingers “I think my favorite body part are hands” He mumbled “I mean they’re horseshit to draw but they can do so much”

Janus looked away from the painting as well. He let his crush do whatever he wanted with his hand as long as he kept holding it. the way he held him so lightly but kept rubbing his thumb up and down his skin made him melt.

“Yeah they can do a lot of fucked up shit” Remy butted in. Jan nearly jumped. He’d completely lost himself in adoring his crush.

“Well hands can also be used to give snakes small berries! And to make coffee!”

“Girl I wasn’t starting an argument. But you sure did won it!”

Remus was staring down into the floor as he said “When I become a cannibal I would wanna try eating human fingers first. I’m sure they would be tasty”

“Why was there a when in there?” Jan asked in a small amount of terror.

“Oh yeah babe totally. I will like actually eat a dick” Remy agreed.

“Why is there a will in there? What kind of time tenses are you people on?? Does english grammar mean nothing to you heathens!?”

Remy got a smug look on their face. They poked their finger right into Janus’ chest “C’mon say what you will eat when you become a cannibal”

“Yeah Snakey” Remus squished his cheeks “Say it! Say it! Say it!”

The two of them kept going on while Janus looked like a sour lemon until he finally caved in.

“Fine. I would either eat the stomach or....the buttocks since they would have the most fat and sustain me the longest”

The Rems looked at each other before bursting out into laughter. “He said butT!” Remus cackled out. The other Rem nodded along and pretended to wipe away a tear from laughter.

“Aight babe let’s put the guy out of his misery” 

They motioned for Remus to go ahead. He happily skipped into the next room and grabbed Jan’s hand to take him with him. The snake couldn’t help but notice how Remy stayed behind for a monent.

“Oh cool!! We’re onto impressionism! The first real art style!” He sighed “From impressionism to cartoon furries. How magical the journey of art is” 

(Jan who had a scaley phase in high school chose to not reply)

“I love the music as well. Crazy lads. My favorite lad?” Remus snickered “De bussy!!”

“That’s my porn name” Remy instantly replied, coming up behind them. “Hey that paint lady kinda like looks like Terra” They pointed at a painting.

“....Hey YEaH! I guess my art is timeless!”

Janus looked between them “who’s Terra?”

“Well girl” Remy playfully ruffled Remus’ hair “She’s just Rem’s tots cool like cartoon character. She’s like all over his sketchbook. Makes it look kinda straight if you ask me but she does have like a very cool design so I get it!”

“Oh......Yes...Sounds very....cool”

The group kept going around looking at art. While it felt like lead was filling Janus’ chest. He’d never heard about Terra. He’d never seen his sketchbook. Meaning they had spent time with each other without him.

He pierced his nails into his palms to stop the thoughts. He refused to be some jealous person who didn’t allow his friends to hang out without him.....Still he wish he could have seen the drawings as well....seen them smile together...heard their shared laughter....

Oh. Oh what if they thought he was annoying. What if they preferred being without him. What if he’d forced them to come here today. What if-

“Hey snakey wanna look at the modern art as well?” Remus interrupted.

“What?” 

Without realizing they’d gone through all of the classic art. Now they were in the last room with not much more than a giant painting the size of one of the walls and a bench.

“That sounds horrid!”

“Yay!”

Remus quickly continued of into the next exhibition. Janus still had the taste of lead filling his throat as he went to follow. Until he realized Remy wasn’t there. He turned around and saw them sitting on the bench in front of the painting. They were leaning their arms on their cane.

“It would probably give us a lot on the black market” Jan said while sitting down beside them.

“Mhm. It’s pretty. I just like wanted to look at it some more” They lied.

“Understandable” 

The painting was pretty much a big flower field with a summer sky shining down on it. Janus noticed how Remy forced deep breathes through their gritted teeth. Their brows were furrowed and their hands kept shaking.

“Are you alright?”

“Of course!” 

“I have some painkillers with me. Would that help agains the pain you’re totally not in?”

They glanced over to him “Girl what you doing walking around with painkillers?”

He looked at them with the most deadpan expression “Remy I’m overweight. You can not phantom how often I get knee pain" He took out a pill and held it out to them "Here"

"There's really like no need! I can like handle it"

Even more deadpan "You shouldn’t have to ‘handle it’. It's 1 painkiller dear. I'm not exactly becoming a saint because of this"

They hesitantly took it "Thanks"

He did fingerguns "No problemo"

They stayed sitting for a bit so the pill could kick in. Jan shuly glanced over to admire them every now and then. Remy kept looking down into the floor while picking at their skin.

“I’m sorry” They said it in a much quieter voice than their usual high pitched one “I tried to do everything right so I wouldn’t ruin everything. I even went to bed early so I wouldn’t get tired....I...I really looked forward to getting to be with you two”

Janus heart beat faster. He pulled himself together to comfort them “You haven’t ruined a thing”

They hid their face in their hands “I’ve been tired and out of it all day. I keep like slowing you down. Don’t think I haven’t like noticed how much you have to hold Rem back from going faster! I’ve just been making this all much worse than it should have been”

“Well you’re here aren’t you? I for one appreciate you simply being here. You don’t have to do anything to make me appreciate you, don’t even have to talk. I hope you know that”

“....really?”

“Oh no darling I totally expect you to win the nobel prize while in a kind of pain I can’t even imagine being in on a daily basis”

Remy chuckled “Thanks”

“There’s really no need for that. I am at any and all times doing the absolute minimum to be counted as a decent human being”

“Sure snakey-babey” They had a soft smile on their face.

They moved to hug him. Their arms wrapped around his back and they muffled their head right between his man titties. Janus sat still for a few seconds, too flustered to think before moving his arms around them as well. A hand on the back of their head, another on their lower back. Their skin felt so cold against his.

Remy closed their eyes and let themself calm down. They could feel Janus’ breathing against their hair.

“I think my fav like human part is the chest” They mumbled out “‘Cause I can hear the heart beat. It reminds me I’m- we’re still like alive”

“Like a bloody biological seashell”

“Exactly” They pressed themself closer. “I like being with you” It was nothing more than a whisper, like it was a secret “When you’re here I feel a bit less like a rotting corpse”

Janus held onto them harder “Well I-I try my best”

“I know babe”

His heart was beating out of his chest. The people around them must think they were a couple. He closed his eyes and focused on Remy’s touch, on Picani’s words from their last session. He managed to push enough of the shame away and focus on the happy butterflies in his stomach instead.

Remy moved away. The moment broke.

“We should probs go find Rem before he starts like eating the art”

“haha yeah” Janus did thumbs up but kept sitting. He’d gone full idiot.

It wasn’t until he saw Remy straining to stand up even with the cane his brain kicked back in.

“Is there some way I could help?”

They didn’t answer. But they did lean their arm around his shoulder to let him carry some of their weight. They slowly but surely made their way to the modern art exhibition.

Remus was sitting crosslegged in front of a weird statue, he was doodling in his sketchbook but shone up into a smile when he saw them.

“There you are! I was starting to think that either the zombie apocalypse had started or you were making out somehwere”

“Oh yeah babe. Full tounge” Remy joked back. Jan let out an inhumane noise.

He closed his sketchbook “I think we’re done here. You’re looking tired beanie. We can come back some other day”

Remy held back the urge to lie that they were fine. Instead they weakly nodded.

The gang left the museum. Right beside it was an ice cream shop. Remus got 3 scoops of a worryingly weird mix of flavors. Janus got 1 scoop of lemon. Remy didn’t feel like eating.

They sat down on a couple of benches right outside. Remy laid down with their head leaned onto Remus’ thigh. He chewed his ice cream while calmly moving his hand up and down their back.

Soon enough they were deep asleep. Janus quickly laid his jacket over their legs. He didn’t want to accidentally see anything under their skirt without their consent.

Remus stared at him like a blood sucking eagle while smiling “Soooo now when beanie is in dream land.......Do” He stopped to giggle “Janny. Janny. Do. Do you like someooooonnneee??”

Janus just blinked at him for half a minute. This was too much. This whole day was too much. He was a wreck. His crush was asking him THis?! While his other crush was laying in his crush’s lap?!?

“Why- Why- What- Who are you working for?! The fucking FBI??? Are they after me?” He desperately tried to joke it away.

“No. No. But seriously JanJan!” He wiggled his shoulders around in a stimmy way “Do you happen to like anyone with a name that starts on R????”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Janus kept glancing between his two crushes while his blushing could be seen out into space. He wanted to lie but his mouth wouldn’t move.

Remus leaned closer and whispered “You’re into Remy right?”

He nodded. A breathe of relief went through him. At least Remus didn’t know he liked him.

“OH I KNEW IT!” Remus yelled out in excitement while flapping his hands.

“Shh! Shh!” Janus scrambled to cover his mouth as Remy stirred for a moment. “Shhhh!” They cuddled closer to their friend and fell back asleep.

“I knew it!” He giggled “Or I mean Remy knew. They told me they thought you were into them”

“WHAT?!” 

Now it was Remus that covered his mouth. He was full on cackling “Yeah! They said it was really obvious! But good for you snakey! I’m sure if you murder their boyfriend you can get them in no time! Or you can become a fab homewrecker!! I can help you buy a nice sexy dress and all!!”

Janus paled in terror “How- In- What- In what way did they say it was obvious?”

“Oh y’know-”

The notif on his phone went off. He checked and his eyes went wide. He carefully moved Remy’s head onto the bench before standing up.

“Sorry snakey! Ro needs super duper emergency help! Gotta go!! See you later! Don’t die!”

Remus left him just like that.  Right after dropping THAT bomb on him. Janus sat unmoving. His mouth was slightly agape in shock. His thoughts were runnig around screaming nonstop.

He sat like that for over 20 minutes until Remy let out a yawn and slowly woke up. They took off their sunglasses to rub their eyes. Just seeing their vibrantly green eyes made Janus panic even more.

“Did Rem disintegrate?” Their voice was hoarse from sleepyness. Janus pinched himself to hold back the uhm feelings.

“He- he uh he went he went he sure did went yeah”

“....Cool!”

They stretched their joints, they all cracked. They looked to Janus and moved closer. He couldn’t breathe. They knew. They knew. They knew.

“Girl are you feeling okay?” They pressed their palm to his forehead “You’re like super hot. In both ways! Maybe you should like go home and rest. I gotta get home before my boyf gets home anyway”

“Y-yeah” Was all Janus could get out.

“Cool. OH! By the way! Girl!!! We haven’t like hung out just the two of us right?? We should tots do that! Just like tell me whatever you wanna do and we can do it!”

“Yeah”

“Awesome! Well I’ll see you on that hang out then”

They hugged him for just a few seconds but for those seconds Janus felt like he was in heaven.

They got up and left. Janus slumped over on the bench. His heart was going crazy. They knew. They knew and now they wanted to hang out alone with him. He turned to you. His eyes were wide and panicked.

Janus: “W-what am I supposed to do? I don’t know any good hang out plans! Do you know any??? I’m- this is all- how did they even know I like them! Oh I’m sounding like an overdramatic 13 year old.....This totally isn’t really overwhelming. I would hate getting Logan cuddles right now!”

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

AHHHHH YOU ALWAYS KILL IT W SONG REQUESTS (as you do w everything else you write bc it’s all gold). may i pls ask for only memories remain by my morning jacket w cal if you could 🥺

Hi, love! Thanks for your patience while I finished up some schoolwork before I got this request!

CW/TW: Mentions of Death. 

_______________

Calum grunts as he pushes up off the floor, hands pressed into the mattress to help assist him. It’s less his back and more of his knees that are not pleased with him. But he does this every so often, kneels on the floor on your side of the bed and digs out that shoebox full of pictures, your engagement band. He made sure that you kept the wedding ring itself. He wanted you to take that with you. 

He should probably stop calling it your side of the bed--your scent hasn’t grazed that pillow in nearly three years. The nightstand is missing your mug in the mornings and your glasses that you always forgot where you put them down. Even if you did remember to hook them around your neck, the second you pulled the glasses down you’d forget instantly where you put them. And Calum wouldn’t be laughing at that, but sometimes he’s not sure how you got around in the world. You always told him glasses weren’t important; they were replaceable if you somehow managed to lose them for good. The only things you didn’t forget were the important things. 

And it’s true. You remembered birthdays, anniversaries, just how the kids liked their plates arranged when they were younger and how a kiss to the back of Calum’s neck would always make his shiver spine. You remembered all the quirks to the dogs and you’d remembered songs from decades ago like they were still new to the radio. 

Settling onto the edge of the bed, Calum pulls up the top to box and right on top is the letter you wrote to him while he was on tour, all those years ago. He had saved it, doing his best to preserve it in your handwriting but he had typed up and saved another draft of it, so he’d never forget it. 

 Dear Calum, 

You might think I’m crazy. But I can hear the laughter in the walls--the sound of you laughing at all my purposefully bad dance moves and I can hear the kisses you give to top of Duke’s head. And I know the house is empty except for me and Duke. I know you are miles away. I know you are dazzling thousands every night. But if only they could hear what I hear in the walls. Your bass occasionally thumping the pictures frames and the shrieks when we fail at some new recipe and resign to take out. If only they could hear, the sound of you when you’re murmuring gently in your sleep or the snores that keep me up some nights. If only they could hear the whispers we don’t want to give power too, the anxiety that sometimes build, but knowing that the two of us can confide in each other. 

If only I could capture what I hear just below that too, and send that to you as well. If only I had a way to let you hear what I hear. If I could tell you sometimes I hear a baby’s laughter, or the bickering of sibling. If only I could tell you about the years I hear waiting for us in this house, maybe other one--a place bigger for the dogs and kids. I can hear the splash of our pool with kids from the neighborhood. 

I don’t know if you hear that too in the house when I’ve gone for a conference or even if you imagine it when I’m just in the next room. I know I do with you. Even if you’re just outside with your trainer, I can hear the house whispering for more. And I could totally be projecting on some poor house, that doesn’t ever have wants or desires, just an existence that which is it content with, but there is something happening, something that I want to let you know about. It hasn’t been easy for ys, but it’s always been worth it. I know our options around children may be a little tough, but I think it’ll be worth it. 

I could easily call you, I could easily text you all things. But, no, I must write it down, as some way of working through my own thoughts. I hope I don’t sound crazy. 

Though I can hear it now, you tsking at me with a shake of your head and a single raised digit--I am never crazy, just always thinking. Just always working through the thoughts that run faster than me. 

I hope you’re well. I hope the tour’s going well and you’re sleeping good at night. Have you tried that lavender like I told you about? Duke’s well, in case you’re wondering. He did well at his checkup today, just sleeping a lot still. Vet says it’s normal for a dog his age. But when he does get a good burst of energy he’s happy to trot around the backyard or around the block. He’s still eating well, so don’t fret about that. Your old man’s still kicking it. He told me to tell you, he’s not going down anytime soon. He’s just taking it easy. 

The weather is LA is turning for a bit. We’ve had some clouds for the last few days. But it’s been nice. You’d be displeased, needing that sun. But soon, you’ll be back home--see your mom and dad and be able to get that Australian sun. 

Love you, Calum. To the ends of the earth, back again, and beyond. 

Yours truly, 

Dearly Beloved. 

He’s not sure when calling you his dearly beloved became a thing. You’d remember. You’d remember to the exact date, time, and happenings. But Calum can’t seem to remember that kind of stuff. He just remembers watching you run after the kids as they shrieked about bath time and how you like kisses right on the back of your ears. 

It’s a strange thing, to remember that, remember all the times he could sneak up behind you to kiss the back of your ear and watch you jump in the shock contrasted to the way you felt cool in his hands as he turned your head one last time to kiss the beloved spot and the way dead weight is actually much heavier, the way it took so much more effort to place your head back upright than it ever took to gently cup your chin and instantly you’d turn to him, with a smile on your face. 

Calum places the letter to the side and finds your favorite old t-shirt--it was hardly a t-shirt anymore. The hole in the armpit was spreading just a little but it held the name of your old university and you wore it for everything from weeding the garden to painting the bedrooms, to gutting the kitchen during the remodel. 

Calum bought exact matching t-shirts and made small decor pillows for the kids, sprayed your signature scent onto them so they could sleep easier at night. But they still curled up in bed with him, hugging their pillows, faces buried into the pillows on your side of the bed. He’d rather them take the last of your scent--he’s happier that they got those moments. 

“Pops, I don’t understand this math question,” Trey states poking his head into the bedroom. 

Calum snaps his attention up from the box and nods. “Coming. Algebra, right?”

“Yeah,” he nods, leaning into the molding. It’s crazy to look at him now, how he’s almost surpassed Calum in height. At fifteen, Calum thought he’d surely still have a few inches maybe a foot over him. Calum remembers when Trey found out he had officially been adopted but the two of you. He was six and cried more than Calum or you did--though the margin was probably still pretty close. It couldn’t have been nine years already. 

“Do-do you have their glasses?” Trey asks quietly. “Today’s been hard. And I feel silly with a pillow in my lap as I do homework.”

Calum walks over, box in hand. “I kept a lot of their smaller things. Whatever you need--it’s always in this box.”

Trey pulls your glasses from the pile, noticing other letters and pictures scattered about in the box. He spies the college t-shirt but just next to it is a picture of you and Trey. He’s in your lap, giant headphones over his ears. “Is that from the first show I went too of yours?”

Calum only briefly catches a glance at the photo before Trey’s fully plucked it from the box. “I think so.”

Trey immediately places the glasses back into the box but holds onto the picture. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“So, do you happen to remember anything from Algebra?”

Calum laughs at the tease and put the box down on the dresser before following behind Trey to the living room. Brandy sits at the coffee table, her stack of color pages and pencils spread out. Calum did his best to keep her doing art. It was hard after you first died.  But slowly over the years, she’s gotten back into it. “You all good?” 

She nods. “All good in the Hood.” She got the phrase from you and here Calum was, with Brandy at ten, and he was sure she would never let the phrase die. 

Calum stops just for a moment to kiss the top of her head and then carries on to the dinning room table. “Okay, so I know I’m not a math whizz like them. But your old man still knows a thing or two about a thing or two,” he returns to Trey’e earlier quip. “Now let’s see what new math magic they have you all working in.”

Trey laughs, slipping the tiny photo of him into the back of his phone case so it shows out to the world. “You calling it magic does not make me feel better.”

[rosesnink]

Plan B, Chapter 2: A Mother’s Sins

Author’s Notes

*English is not my first language, so please forgive me any typos and/or grammar mistakes 

*All the characters minus my OC Samantha belong to Pixelberry Studios 

*If this is your first time stumbling upon my work and are interested in this au, please check out Plan B’s masterlist with previous works and my general masterlist! 

Summary: Two months after the happenings of the announcement, Sam and Ernest find out the sex of their baby and memories about Sam’s childhood flood back. 

Word Count: 3620 

Seven years ago 

Samantha sat beside her gravely ill mother, pale-looking and weak at the fancy hospital. She was holding her hand while she looked pensively at the ceiling, her graze lost. Samantha sighed, trying to get her attention. 

"Is something the matter, mother?"

After a silent minute, her mother Mary looked at her and stroked her cheek "My dearest Sam, my beautiful baby girl. You are my greatest gift in this world, alongside your brother Harry and your adoptive brother Edmund. You three had been my anchor and reason of happiness, but we must embrace the truth." 

"Mother—."

"I am dying, Samantha. And there is nothing we can do about it. But I can help you so you don't end up like me. I've already unburdened my heart to your brother Harry and Edmund, now I must do so with you." 

"Mother, what is the meaning of this?"

"Sammy, I loved your father, truly. But during almost 46 years, his sense of duty was between us, even when I got pregnant with you. We loved each other, but between Edgewater and me, Edgewater came first. I felt so lonely, surrounded by nobles who didn't want me here and weren't certainly welcome. I fear I brought shame onto this family, but you, my girl, you will be our salvation. I know it's too much to ask, but marry someone who you think can make you happy and with a suitable rank. It is the only way." 

"Mother that is… a bit old-fashioned." 

"I know, but think about it. But before that, make me the happiest of women and get that medical degree so at least you've got a living if anything goes wrong." 

"I—I will consider your words, Mother." She kissed her hands. 

"One more thing. Never marry a man who doesn't know who he is or what he wants in his life. Because, even with all the money and power in the world, it will be a shallow, sad life, even if you do love him." 

"I promise I will follow your counsel, mother." 

She kissed her hand "I know you will."

Samantha woke up, that dream feeling too real. She sighed as she remembered well her mother's last days before she left them. Even when she was dying and Henrietta was trying to impress her father, she never went after her or tried to demonize her or poor Edmund. It was her who encouraged Vincent to move on from her. She didn't know the whole story, but she knew that Henrietta and Vincent had an understanding. What the understanding was, she didn't know.

She looked at the clock: it was four in the morning, an hour before she was due to wake up uni day. 

After not going for weeks, she decided that it was time for her to go and talk to the principal and her counselor: one of the many emails she had were from them, after all. 

She got a hot shower, brushed her teeth, put on some soft makeup and comfortable clothes, and got something light to eat before messaging her classmates that she was on her way to uni. 

"Ah, Miss Foredale, at long last we get a sight of you! Please, take a seat."

Principal Gray invited, a warm smile on her face "Your father called me, saying that you were sick, but I must hear your version,"

Sam chewed her lip before asking "Will this be between us and the counselor?" 

"If that is your wish. You're almost twenty-six years old, Samantha. You've been in your right to demand to keep things to ourselves since you turned eighteen." 

She nodded before she looked at the principal and confessed "The reason why I didn't attend class wasn't a sickness… the thing is, I'm pregnant, Mrs. Gray." 

Her eyebrows shoot so up she feared they might fly away, but quickly coughed politely before asking "And… what is your plan? Should you wish to either keep it or abort, you have our support." 

"After a long talk with the father and pondering what is better for me, I have decided to keep it." 

She smiled at her warmly before getting that stern look she always had "You do realize what having a child takes and means?" 

"I do, Mrs. Gray." 

"And you're aware of the changes that come within the pregnancy?" 

"Uh… a bit?" She seemed now a bit scared. 

Thankfully, Mrs. Gray was a kind lady and patted her on her hand before she began to speak, her stare years away "I was a bit older when I first got my son. I have to say that my husband then wasn't a good man: he was the typical bad husband who didn't even blink at the news of having a son, saying that I just did the bare minimum by giving him 'what he was owed'. Nevertheless, I was so happy when my Christopher was born… Pregnancy can indeed be tricky, but many pregnancies can be even pleasant to go through. My sister-in-law had a better pregnancy than I had, and she had triplets. Her skin and hair glowed and barely had any pains, all the pain she had was in the birth." 

"I guess getting three whole humans out of your system can be highly exhausting." 

"What I want to say is, that I understand your fears: you're scared, without a close female figure to give you counsel, but don't worry, I shall dial an old alumnus of mine that has turned out to be a brilliant doctor, specialized in young women's pregnancies. You're welcome to bring the father with you, but she shall not judge you if you come alone," she lowered her tone, an amusing tone on her face "just be careful with the pregnant Karens and her mob of conservative mums while waiting for the doctor to call. The less you interact with them, the better." 

Sam giggled, now more relaxed than before. They talked a bit more before she gave her the number of said doctor and proceeded to go to the counselor's office, where they figured out a plan of what to do as her pregnancy advanced.

Before class, she messaged Ernest, inviting him to come with her to the doctor's appointment. He got the message but didn't read it. She shrugged –perhaps he was busy.

During the day, Hamid messaged her too and even Annabelle wanted to know how was her first day at uni being pregnant. At the break, she video called Annabelle and talked for a bit, laughing while they enjoyed their lattes, forgetting for once the drama outside cooking. A kind classmate whispered to watch the newspaper's gossip section. 

Viscountess of Foredale, possible romance with dashing Turkish diplomat?! 

She read the section with eyes wide: 

This past week has been eventful for the Earl of Edgewater. Not only his daughter and heir have been hospitalized for the night, but also we have seen a glimpse of her gallivanting around with the dashing Turkish diplomat, Hamid Osmanoglu! Seems like the Viscountess stopped trailing on the widower Mr. Ernest Sinclaire of Ledford Park and found herself a new man who pays her attention? 

If you don't believe me, here's a photo of them sharing a kiss no less after what seemed like a very interesting conversation! Will sparks fly? Or will he as well get bored of this spinster? Talk to me, my dear readers! Are you team Hamid or team Ernest? 

Samantha put the newspaper down, and annoyance scoff on her face. Who the hell were these people anyway? Couldn't she have a bit of peace for one damn minute? 

She felt a bit of shame for poor Ernest, and Hamid too. She bit the inside of her cheek before calling Ernest first, who picked the phone after four sounding rings

"Yes?"

"Ernest, may I know if you've seen the gossip newspaper yet?" 

"Not personally, but my secretary informed me." 

She sighed, biting her lip "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to barge you into unnecessary drama," 

"I know you meant well, Samantha. It's enraging how they paint you," she could almost picture his annoyed scowl "calling you that, it's an outrage! Have they not got any respect for you?" 

"Thank you for your concern. But you know this kind of people. They love to add fuel to the fire and cause drama over nothing," 

"It's not an excuse to shame a woman for having free will over her life." 

Samantha's heart warmed at how little he cared about how they painted him. When he was a teenager, he was painted as an unreachable cheeky boy. Then, his parents died during a visit to the Emirates and everything changed. He married Roselyn rather young –he was then 23—and closed off to everyone, including her father, who he always saw as a second father. He was then one of the most tragic men in London. Samantha tried to be there for him, but Roselyn didn't help. It was like she wanted him clueless. Then she found out that she was seeing the creepy duke and tried to warn him, but again, Roselyn kicked her out. She wondered what happened the year before her death, why did they just… disappeared. There were many rumors indeed, but she waited and waited every day to hear from him, but it didn't happen until he showed up at a party only to talk businesses. She tried to get something out of him by dancing, but he was stiff and silent all the time. Something grave indeed happened. And she knew it was Roselyn's fault. Ernest here was the victim. She didn't hear of them after they departed to Scotland and then, all they knew was that she had died a week ago and Ernest was preparing himself for the burial. 

During those weeks, she was there for him, and then one night she asked him out and he accepted. And then, that same night, they conceived their child… Sam touched her growing belly thoughtfully. It has been two months ever since and they have gone out, going on revisions as well. She answered the phone again as Ernest's concerned voice called for her again "Sorry, I zoned out. What did you say again?" 

"I was asking if I may accompany you to today's appointment with the doctor." 

"Oh, I'd love to! But your work—,"

"Can wait. I want to be there for you both and make some questions of my own to the doctor," 

She nodded before they planned where to meet and they both hung up. Sam went to some more classes and activities before excusing herself. She barely came out of the uni's doors when Ernest's familiar car parked there, him looking at her rather nervously. She smiled at him reassuringly and hopped into the car, both in silence. 

"So, did the baby give you any trouble?" 

"Not at all, the baby behaved well and barely gave me any pain. I think my hair and skin had gotten softer and shinier," Sam said proudly. Ernest looked at her before looking again at the road.

"I do see you shining. Maybe pregnancies aren't always so bad," 

"Did your mom have a difficult pregnancy with you?" 

"…Not exactly." 

She took the hint that he didn't wish to speak about it and remained in silence. At some point, Ernest turned on the radio and a beautiful melody resonated in the car. He explained to her that soothing classical music was good for the unborn baby's development and Sam wanted to swoon. He did his research about pregnancies, despite them being nothing. But they were, somehow. She and her baby had their room in his home and one being built and painted in Ledford. This was real. She and Ernest would be co-parenting despite their history together, and Sam couldn't feel happier. She smiled at him before getting into the hospital's parking and in front of the maternity wing. He opened the door to Samantha and offered courteously his arm, but Sam rejected it with a chuckle "I'm pregnant of almost three months, Ernest, not chronically ill," 

"I know, I just want to show my support… and make sure you don't have any dizziness. Hospitals tend to do that…" 

"…Very well then." She took his arm and they both got into the facility, gasps, and whispers everywhere. Some photos being made. But neither of them cared. 

"Lady Samantha Foredale?" The nurse called. They both got up and the nurse-led them to the cozy and comfortable room, with a soothing blue with little teddy bears and some promotional photos of breastfeeding and new-borns. 

"Doctor," Ernest asked "is it correct that at this rate we will be able to see if it's a girl or a boy?" 

"Yes, indeed. This is why today's session is one of the most important… and magical." She winked "Please do ask the questions you need," 

"If Samantha keeps being a healthy expectant, the option of a C-section might be off the list?" 

The nurse looked at him as she wandered on her belly "Well, Miss Foredale has the luck to have our best doctors at her disposal and the privilege of a nutritionist controlling what she eats and much more, but even the best doctor cannot predict how the birth might be. It is a spontaneous act. Some of them are long and exhausting, some of them only last twenty minutes and there is barely any pain… birth is complicated to explain. You see, the human body can only endure forty-five unities of pain. When a woman gives birth, the unities increase to fifty-seven unities, which is the equivalent to twenty broken bones." Ernest's eyes went wide "but you needn't worry! Thanks to the evolution in terms of birth and the appearance of the epidural, women suffer much less in birth. Don't worry, sir, she's in the hands of the experts. Some of our doctors are apprentices of the Queen's delivery doctors and nurses, just as the Princes and Dukes of England." 

Samantha took his hand and squeezed it "I know I'm safe and in good hands. Believe it too, Ernest," 

"You're the med student, Sam. If I can believe in someone's judgment in health, that's you." 

They both smiled before the nurse called their attention and said "Well, Mr. Sinclaire and Lady Samantha… you're going to be parents of a healthy baby girl," 

Sam gasped in delight as Ernest's eyes went wide before smiling, overjoyed " A girl… I don't think I can be happier right now…" 

He lifted his hand, wordless permission to touch her belly and feel the kicks of his girl and she nodded, and he gasped at her vivid kicks. "You feel that?" 

"I—I do," He beamed. 

"By the way, Lady Samantha, may I interest you in ovum donation? You have so many and it could change some women's lives…" 

"Dad, we're home and we have news about the baby!" Sam called at her family's attention in the house. 

Edmund and Harry rushed to her, just as Dominique and Henrietta, and they all bombarded her with questions about today's appointment. They all knew that it was the gender reveal's day. 

"Everyone, leave poor Sam some space! She called for me, after all," Vincent's voice resonated all over the place. They all did as he asked and clasped his hands on hers "So, what will be? A boy? A girl?" 

She placed his hand on her belly "A vivid girl, father." 

He beamed before hugging her, careful of her belly as Harry congratulated her and Edmund gave her a side hug of his. Grandmother and granddaughter embraced and Henrietta gave her a stiff nod "Better luck next time, I guess." 

"Enough, Henrietta. A girl in the family brings the same joy as a boy. We are, after all, in the 21st century. Gender does not matter," 

Henrietta huffed as they all showered her in congratulations, Ernest in a corner, lingering awkwardly. Vincent noticed and they both hugged "You have now two girls with Mills temper. Watch out, old friend." Vincent teased. 

Ernest chuckled "I think I can manage just fine with that temper," 

"Now, why don't we speak as we take our tea? Our cook has made some marvelous pastries with whipped cream and honey that you'll simply love…" 

Hamid waited patiently on the porch as he checked the hour. He had come early to receive her and leaned on his car, looking good for his dinner with Samantha. She told him over the phone hours ago that she'd be the mother of a girl and he got excited. People always teased him that if he fathered a girl, he'd have to deal with eight women: his mother, his sisters, his future wife, and his future daughter.

He did not mind at all. Sure, he liked the idea of having a boy too – he loved children in general – but he was so used to being around girls and women that sometimes that had caused trouble, but he wouldn't change a single thing of it. He adored his sisters and his mother was an important figure in his life, and he was willing to be a second father to Sam's girl if she chose him. They had gone to dates so far and sneaked a few innocent kisses, careful of paparazzi and her growing belly. She wasn't meant to grow it much until halfway her third month, but everyone had noticed now her belly and had asked her a lot of questions about who was the father and if she wanted to marry the man in question, and the Dowager Countess had handled it flawlessly, though he did tell his mother and elder sister, Nesrim, about the whole situation that he had accidentally drawn attention to Istanbul's newspapers.

Though they argued for hours, they both agreed that Hamid had decided to participate in the baby's life somehow and nothing would change his mind. However, his middle sister Hande had begged him to advise him in nursing a new-born – she had recently triplets, boys to be exact, his new nephews—and was dying to play too part in family's chatters about how pregnancies could be either barely noticeable to torture. His elder sister had now two children: a boy and a girl, his nephew was eight while his niece was six. He video-called them often and they both said that he was the coolest uncle, which boasted greatly his ego – and he had sufficient ego to give to some insecure girls—or at least Sam teased so. 

Sam finally came down the small stairs in a floral dress with her small bump showing, a beaming smile on her face. He smiled at her and kissed her hand.

"Shall we, my lady?"

She nodded before she got into the car, driving away to the restaurant he had reserved: the best Turkish restaurant in all of London. It was one of his last chances to show her London before she retired to the countryside to rest for the rest of her pregnancy to avoid stress or drama that some snooty nobles and press wanted to bring. He'd be joining her in his state, just thirty minutes away from Edgewater, but he was excited nonetheless. 

This adventure had just begun. 

Twenty-one years ago 

Mrs. Mary Foredale, Countess of Edgewater, held her toddler daughter in her arms as she had a bit of rest of her restless new-born son, Harry, the girls playing with her dolls. She looked at her "Sammy, my darling, what are you dolls up to?" 

"Shh! Ken is going to propose to Barbie!" Little Sam shushed. Mary chuckled before paying attention to the proposal. 

Minutes after, Sam reached to sit on her lap as she called her husband "Vincent, love? Oh, he's reunited. When will he come back from work? Oh… I see. Nothing, just tell him that his wife and daughter send him a hug. Right, Sammy?" Sam shouted at the phone.

"I love you, Daddy!" She hung up and Sam looked at her mother questioningly "Mother, why did you marry Papa?" 

"Because I loved him. I still do," 

"Then why are you so sad?" 

Mary sighed. She knew this day would come. She has prayed that it'd delay a bit longer. 

"You see, my girl, love is the biggest and purest source of all. But when one doesn't nurture the plant of love, it will fade away. Your father works so much, and I cannot maintain this plant on my own." 

"So… that means that having a husband sucks?" 

"It should not. But do one thing for me, my girl, and before you marry, be certain that the man you love is capable of nurturing your little plant of love, or else it shall have grave consequences. Marrying an uncommitted man is an enormous sin that women do all the time. Be wiser than that, my darling Sammy. Promise me." 

"I promise, Mom," 

Sixteen years later, Vincent and his two children sat on a hospital chair, weeping silently for the Countess's death. Sam pretended not to notice, but she heard her father whisper angrily to himself "I should have put Mary first. I should have been the husband and father she needed me to be. Now she's dead because of my absence." 

That day, Sam learned that you never truly appreciated something until you have let go of it. Right there, the nineteen-year-old woman promised herself that she wouldn't settle down to any man that wasn't willing to nurture every day their love, should that man ever come… 

She would not commit her mother's sins.

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - “Angel’s Christmas Wish” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Crowley doesn't know what to get his angel for Christmas. It becomes such an issue, it creates a time-loop, forcing Crowley to re-live the day until he gets it right. (2263 words)

Notes: Written for @theantichristmaszine  2020 :)

Read on AO3.

“Oh, Aziraphale … darling …” A soft pause. A hard swallow. “Look at me, angel … please …”

Aziraphale’s eyelids flutter open - nerves and self-doubt fighting to keep them shut. And they almost win. It’s hard to be seen this way - vulnerable, open, full of this beautiful demon who’s doing his level best to please him, to fulfill his every desire.

And he’s succeeding.

Which is why opening his eyes is so hard.

Opening his eyes would mean letting Crowley see into him, expose the fact that he wants this, everything about it - the sacred connection between hearts and souls.

The carnal connection between skin and skin.

But Crowley’s pleas to him are so sweet, Aziraphale can’t deny him.

He stares up at his demon, eyes glistening with tears.

“There you are,” Crowley whispers. “I thought you might have disappeared on me.”

“Never, my dear. I’m right here. I’m with you. And I always will be.”

Crowley sweeps a thumb underneath Aziraphale’s eye and collects a single tear. He brings it to his lips and kisses it away. Then he leans in and kisses his angel again.

Aziraphale didn’t know he’d started crying but he can’t help himself. It’s not a habit of his. He’s not a ninny. But this moment, this one right here, with Crowley hovering over him, arms wrapped around him, moving with him in a slow rhythm, is the most magical moment of his entire existence.

From where this night began to where it ended up, this is nothing short of a miracle in Aziraphale’s eyes …

***

“Dearest? Why do you look so glum?” Aziraphale asks, handing Crowley a glass of champagne. “It’s Christmas!”

“Of course, it’s Christmas!” Crowley grumps, grabbing the glass from Aziraphale’s hands and knocking the alcohol back in one go. “It’s always Christmas!”

Aziraphale stutters a laugh, staring at Crowley as if his demon has suddenly gone bonkers. “What on earth do you mean it’s always Christmas? It isn’t always Christmas. Christmas only comes around once a year!”

“Not for us, it doesn’t,” Crowley mutters. “For some strange reason, we’ve been through this over a hundred times!”

“We as in the world? Or we as in you and me?”

“The world! And no matter what, I still get it wrong!”

Aziraphale watches Crowley rearrange his legs underneath him on the sofa. He gets up and paces, then sits down again. Aziraphale waits a moment longer before he comes up with a response. It’s not Crowley’s words that give him pause. It’s the tone of his voice, his body language. What he’s saying may sound ridiculous, but from the way he’s behaving - taking an anxious lap around the room with his shoulders tensed and his hands shoved into his pockets, as if waiting for a bomb to drop - Aziraphale can’t do much of anything other than believe him.

“You’re going to have to forgive me but I don’t understand,” he says, fishing for clarity. “This is the first Christmas we’ve spent together. Well, spent together as a couple. There was that one year …”

“No! No, it isn’t!” Crowley interrupts before Aziraphale can derail the conversation. “I don’t know what’s going on, Aziraphale, or how! I honestly don’t! But this is the 132nd Christmas we’ve spent together! We exchange gifts, have dinner, go to bed, wake up, and it’s Christmas all over again! And I can’t figure out why!” Crowley drops onto the sofa and buries his head in his hands.

“Oh,” Aziraphale says, topping off his demon’s glass, then taking the seat beside him. “Well, that … that is a puzzler … isn’t it?”

***

“I love you, Aziraphale,” Crowley utters. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I …” He doesn’t necessarily have Aziraphale’s attention, but it’s like the words aren’t for him to hear. Just for Crowley to say. But in the quiet of the room, Aziraphale does hear them.

“You know, my dear,” he says into the crook of Crowley’s neck, “if you had told me a year ago that we would finally get to this point, I would have thought you’d gone mad.”

“I was going mad,” Crowley admits. “Every time I saw you, I dropped hints like they were breadcrumbs and you … well, you never seemed to notice.”

‘Hints?’ Aziraphale’s brow wrinkles, thinking back on their every interaction, every conversation, trying to discern when Crowley had dropped any hints of any kind. Aside from saving those books from that church bombing (which may have made up for any hints Aziraphale missed) he is pressed to remember a single one.

“They must have been subtle,” Aziraphale deduces out loud.

“I was trying not to be too forward. Demon, you know.”

“Yes, my dear,” Aziraphale says with a fond sigh for his ridiculous lover.

Crowley chuckles. Then his brow wrinkles as well. “Wait … did you say finally?”

“Yes. I did.”

“But that would mean you thought we would get to this point eventually.”

“You did, too. What with all your hint dropping.”

“No, I didn’t know,” Crowley argues. “I hoped.”

Aziraphale pushes lightly on Crowley’s shoulders, tilting his head to look into his eyes. “I knew,” he says softly. “Deep down inside, I have always known.”

***

“Do you have any leads?” Aziraphale asks, getting caught up in the excitement of this mystery, even as his poor demon wallows in the angst.

“I think …” Crowley begins, tapping his heel on the floor as he thinks “… it’s the present.”

“What about the past? And the future? If we’re repeating time …”

“No no no!” Crowley interrupts. “Not the present present! The present present!”

Aziraphale frowns. “What?”

“Present as in gift. My gift to you.”

“But I love my present!” Aziraphale gushes, putting a hand to his waistcoat pocket and retrieving the gift Crowley gave him. “This is a perfectly beautiful pocket watch! No little screens or beeping buttons. Just a simple, elegant piece of machinery.”

“That’s just it! It is a perfectly beautiful pocket watch! And it’s just the kind of thing you’d appreciate. But it’s obviously not the thing! Not the right thing! Yesterday, I gave you a perfectly beautiful book of poetry …”

“Oh! Who wrote it?” Aziraphale asks, eyes gleaming.

“Wat? Uh … Byron, I think.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale replies, slightly disappointed.

“Wat? Wat’s wrong with Byron?” Crowley asks, curious if this could be the reason why they’re here today. If he can find out what’s wrong with his presents, then he can get Aziraphale the right one and the two of them the Heaven out of this mess!

“Nothing’s wrong with Byron. It’s simply that … well, I like your writing better.”

Crowley scoffs in frustration.

Nope. That didn’t help him at all.

“And the day before that, it was a perfectly beautiful bottle of 1947 Cheval-Blanc. Every gift I’ve given you has been perfectly beautiful in your own words. But it’s not, because I wake up every morning and here we are again, celebrating Christmas! And I want to move on from here, Aziraphale! I want to go forward with you! How do I do that? How do I break the loop?”

***

Crowley’s body is exceptional.

Simply exquisite.

If Azirapahle didn’t know for a fact that Crowley had refined his corporation himself, he would say that Crowley’s body is the Almighty’s best work.

Aziraphale knows things like physical beauty aren’t supposed to be important, but the fact of the matter is Crowley has created a facade that is not only pleasing to the eye, but which fits his personality to a T.

If one wanted an accurate first impression of the demon Crowley, they would not want to look to his true form, but into the eyes and winning smile of this glorious creature.

Unlike Hastur. That rotting, maggot-ridden, gray-skinned ghoul with the soulless black eyes?

That’s who Duke Hastur truly is.

Aziraphale can’t stop looking at his demon’s body.

Not to mention the things he can do with it.

Aziraphale supposes that’s part and parcel with being a demon - knowing how to inspire lust.

But the things Crowley is doing to him, the way he makes him feel …

… Aziraphale, with his vast knowledge of human linguistics, can’t seem to find the words for.

There are no words powerful enough to describe the sensation of Crowley’s lips on his skin, or his hands feeling out erogenous zones Aziraphale never realized existed. These corporations they use to fit in on earth, they are so frail. So delicate from the standpoint of a supernatural entity. When he first got his, he had to take great care always not to harm the thing.

But that became easier the more he grew to love it.

Apparently God made up for the frailty of the human body by giving them this incredible gift of physical intimacy. And for humans especially, an intimacy with no purpose other than for two beings to simply enjoy one another.

And Aziraphale is grateful that he gets this opportunity to sample it.

***

“If you ask me, I would say that we’re stuck in a loop you’ve created, since you’re the only one who seems to know it exists,” Aziraphale says, sounding utterly nonplussed by the whole sticky affair. “Therefore, only you can break it.”

“But how!? What am I missing? What is the right thing? What do I need to give you that I haven’t given you already?”

Aziraphale looks down into his flute of bubbling alcohol and smiles a wistful little smile. “Oh, my dear, that’s just the thing.”

“Wat do you mean?” Crowley asks, poised on the brink of desperation. He may have created this loop, but he very much believes that angel holds the key to shattering it. “Wat’s the thing?”

“You don’t need to give me anything. Nothing you would purchase in a store, at least.”

“Wat … wat else is there?” Crowley asks, perplexed.

Aziraphale turns his body towards him, leans in a hair closer, and looks deep into his eyes. “Think,” he says. “A little harder.”

***

“I’m yours, you know …” Crowley whispers through a veil that sounds like tears..

“What’s that, dear?”

“I’m yours.” He sniffs. “Have been. For as long as we’ve known one another. No …” Crowley wipes his left cheekbone with the back of his hand. “No, since the moment I saw you standing on that blasted wall. It’s the most ludicrous, most inconceivable thing in the world for me to say. There were so many times I thought I was lying to myself. But it’s true. Ever since then, Aziraphale …” Crowley stops, looks at Aziraphale to make sure he hasn’t lost him in his confession.

The smile on his angel’s face tells him that’s not likely.

“I’m yours,” he repeats.

“How come you never told me?”

Crowley shrugs. “Would it have made any difference? You’re an angel. I’m a demon. We aren’t exactly a perfect match.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, my love,” Aziraphale says, putting a hand to his demon’s cheek. “We are a perfect match. And I know this because I’ve been yours as well … you foul fiend.”

***

Crowley shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, my dear …” Aziraphale clears his throat but tightens his jaw, what he’s about to say making him a bit uncomfortable “… at the end of any of these loops, have you made love to me?” He clears his throat again, his cheeks warming, glowing pink.

“Oh …” Crowley hadn’t expected that. He sits up, which moves him away from his angel - which wasn’t his intention “… uh … n---no. No, I haven’t.”

“Then you’re right.” Aziraphale dares to shimmy closer with his cheeks burning now. “You haven’t found the thing yet. Because, to be quite honest … that’s what I wanted. Th---that’s what I was hoping for.”

“You want me … to make love to you? For Christmas?”

“O---only if you want to. I would never assume … or imply … which is to say, I wouldn’t want to force you to …”

***

“Oh Gahhh …!”

“Don’t say it!” Aziraphale hushes, giggling. “The consequences of that could be disastrous!”

“I know, I know. It’s just … I think I understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Why humans call out her name … during sex, I mean. Making love … it’s kind of like praying, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale swallows hard, fear pooling in his stomach with the thought that now that Crowley has come to that realization, he’ll never want to do this again. “Do you hate it?”

“No. Not at all. Not so long as I’m with you.”

***

Aziraphale doesn’t finish his sentence.

Not because he falters.

But because Crowley’s mouth on his takes his breath away.

“I am … so stupid,” Crowley says against his angel’s lips, unwilling to leave his mouth. “I never realized. I should have told you,” he confesses between kisses - to Aziraphale’s mouth, to his cheeks, to the soft curls surrounding his face, “so many times. I should have told you how I felt. How much I loved you. And I tried. I tried so hard to think of something I could give you that would let you know …”

Aziraphale puts a hand to his demon's cheek, stares into amber eyes he has seen - and admired - hundreds of times. But now, he feels like he’s looking into them for the very first time. “You don’t need to give me anything. All I want for Christmas ... is you.”

[evermorebarbie]

Handle With Care

Written for @ladywitchling​, “Something with Manorian and children” Here ya go babes

WC: 4747

                                ********************************************

"Manon, I'm sorry," he said, weaving his silken, slim tie underneath each other. Looping it into a knot pulling it flush against the white-collar, "I didn't think I'd be called in when I told Aelin we could."

Her arms folded tight across her chest. Leaning against the crowning of the door frame. Fixing him a pointed look through the mirror. Holding his gaze, gold meeting sapphire. She watched her husband run his long fingers through perfectly coiled blue-black hair.

"Since it was your suggestion. Why don't you take her to work?" she questioned, surveying the way his solid muscle moved underneath his button-down. Crimson lips pursing as her gaze swept over him.

He simply turned towards her, a lazy smile from a mouth that harbored all sorts of wicked things. Dorian pinned her against the door. A hand settling on her hip. Her palms splayed across his chest.

"I can't or I would. Besides, it’s not for long. Chaol said Duke needs to have a finance meeting immediately, " Manon rolled her eyes, huffing out a response while Dorian brushed his nose along hers, hovering his mouth over Manon's blood-red ones, "Are you telling me Manon Havilliard can't handle a toddler?" If it wasn’t displayed so roguishly on his handsome face, she could hear his mocking smile in the words.

Her lips curled upward, coiling at his tie bringing his lips hovering over hers, “Oh I can. And you will bring me that big bottle of merlot from Wendlyn Wines and sushi when you get home,” She tugged him a tad closer, feeling his breath hot against her mouth. Like the caress of a heated wind kissing her lips.

Dorian dropped a hand gripping her waist firmly. She in turn tilted her head, holding his gaze. His words fell from his lips, tone dark and sensual, “I’ll give you something big alright.”

He closed the short distance between them, nipping at her bottom lip before claiming her mouth. A soft moan came from her, slipping her tongue between his parted lips searching for his. Dorian pressed his wife harder into the door, hearing it smack against the wall behind them. Her hands slid up into the perfectly styled hair all set for a day's worth of meetings. Just when his hands moved to cup her pert ass and lift her. The doorbell chimed ringing through both floors of the house. Breaking apart from each other, both with heavy breaths and blushed cheeks. Manon fixed her loose fitted shirt the color of granite giving him a chaste kiss.

“Finish getting ready. I’ll get her,” She turned to leave their room.

He called out to Manon as she reached the hallway smiling at her with encouragement, “You’re gonna do great.”

“I know."

Dorian knew the way she said it, his wife wasn't so sure.

It wasn’t that Manon had some irrational fear of kids. She simply didn’t know what to do with them. Despite her cousin Asterin having one and Elide having two. Manon had successfully dodged babysitting. Until now. Two years into marriage and the question was like a battering ram. To her and Dorian both. Have you thought about kids? Do you know time is ticking? She was a thirty-year-old woman and they had a few years before “time was ticking”. The happily married couple had discussed it. Plenty of times and the answer was always the same. If it happens, then it was meant to be. The Havilliards were perfectly content with their huskies, Abby and Abraxos. That was their family. Having a child wasn’t on top of their lists. At least for Manon.

For Dorian, the more their friends had children the more she noticed the longing on his face. Whether it was family gatherings, dinners, or birthdays he was always with the kids. Playing whatever games they asked and roughhousing with them. Majority of the time a babe would be in his arms. Or an older child on his hip or his shoulders. The warmth and tenderness would fill her watching him play the role of fun uncle. Knowing how good he would be as a dad. Manon knew her husband only said if it happens to appease her. To let her know it was okay and he’d wait months, years for her to be ready. It seemed now, she would have a test to see if she was. If she’d ever be.

Manon walked out of their room and down the hall, following the loud noises of their dogs barking relentlessly in a chorus of excitement. She shouted at the door, knowing it was Aelin on the other side. Quickly she pulled the sliding glass door open ushering the dogs outside. Closing it after Abby stepped onto the porch. Manon rushed to the front door pulling it open with a twist of the knob. Aelin stood in the doorway, a backpack over her shoulder filled to the brim. Looking more like she was preparing Manon for a hike in the Terrasen mountains and not watching a child. Manon’s gaze fell to the girl, standing up to Aelin’s knee, Keira Whitehorn. Her hair primarily taking after her father. Though thanks to her mother most likely, it was a lighter shade. More of pale moonlight. Close to Manon’s. The girl sported evenly split pigtails that bounced as she swayed behind her mother. Besides the hair shade, she looked practically identical to her. Including the traditional Ashryver eyes, turquoise, and gold.

It was then Manon noticed the shimmer on Keira’s lips and the bright pink on her cheeks. Manon arched a brow at the look. Aelin must’ve caught the confused look in her eyes as she sighed.

“Kay refused to leave until she did her makeup. Because auntie Manon likes makeup. She’s in a copycat phase, “ Aeling said handing over the bag. Manon took it setting it inside her home, “It’s pretend makeup and will come off with water. Anyways, Good Morning.”

She thought most of the kids tolerated her because they loved Dorian so much. Honestly, she believed they were scared of her. Which was ridiculous although given her usual cold appearance understandable. It was never the kids' fault, Manon just had a people tolerance level and after some point, she was ready to go home and be with her dogs and Dorian. He always felt the same, Dorian just had a better way of masking it. Little Keira wanted to copy her, to be like her. Manon could truly say she was touched by this notion.

“Good Morning, “ Manon crouched down to Keira’s level, a softness in her voice that surprised even her, “Not bad, I could give you some pointers if you’d like, I might need a model... If your mother is okay with it that is.”

Keira gasped, eyes widening tugging on her mother's blazer, “Please oh please!” she begged, working her best puppy face.

“Your father would have a fit,” Aelin commented, running her fingers as if in thought before flashing a grin, “but his face would be priceless. Do it.”

“What are we doing?”

Manon heard her husband question as he stepped behind her. Keira shouted his name flying into his arms. Dorian hoisted her up, keeping her on the seat of his hips. Keira’s small four-year-old face lit up as bright as the smile on his. Gone was the seductive prowl of the man moments ago who almost took his wife against a door. Yet, Manon found him equally desirable at this moment.

“Manon’s gonna do my makeup,” she giggled.

“She is?” he quipped, looking over at her. Manon shrugged as if saying, it’s what she wants.

“I have to go. Thanks again you guys,” Aelin kissed her daughter's brow, “Don’t be a terror,” the girl twisted her brows pouting her face, “too much of a terror. I love you and I’ll see you tonight.”

Keira said her goodbyes as Aelin walked away shouting good luck. As she peeled out of the parking lot Dorian slid Keira into Manon’s arms. Manon kept her steady on her hip. She’s held kids before, but the feeling always felt off to her. Dorian pressed a quick peck to her cheek, as he ruffled the top of Keira’s hair musing up the perfectly brushed strands pulled into elastic bands.

“I should go too. The sooner I get this over with. The sooner I can come home.”

Manon nodded, “Remember your promise. Sushi and wine. The big bottle.”

He leaned over growling against her ear that sent a shiver down her spine, “I told you there’s something bigger I’d rather give you,” teeth nipping at her ear. Causing her body to heat at the wanton touch. Prick.

Manon squeezed Keira tightly as she stepped back, shoving Dorian in the shoulder as he laughed, “I'm holding a kid you rutting ass-” he cut his wife off with a quick searing kiss.

“Language Havilliard. There’s a child present,” Dorian quipped.

Manon glared at her ass of a husband. He grinned, his sapphire eyes shining bright in the sunlight. Suddenly his features turned soft and caring. Then Manon knew why he did what he did. To ease her tension. On the outside, she appeared calm and ready for a day with a four-year-old. On the inside, she was still nerve wrecked. Taking care of kids wasn’t something she knew nor understood. In mere minutes it would only be Manon and Keira. When Manon glanced over to the girl in her arms, with pretend makeup on for her. She felt the uneasiness begin to ebb away.

Dorian flashed her a glance that said, If you need me just call, but I think you’ve got this.

Manon placed the young girl down onto the cemented ground, approaching her husband kissing him ever so lightly on his lush lips, "I love you. Have a good day at work,” she responded in the way a loving wife would. Manon whispered into his ear far away from the peering ears of the toddler behind her, “Bring me my wine or that big thing can find your hand tonight.”

His only response was a low hungry purr. Dorian knelt to Keira, wrapping her in a tight embrace as he said his goodbye. How he can be in a state of primal desire and tender to a child in the same breath, Manon didn’t know. Only that her desire and love for him grew. With a wink and an I’ll call you later he left, leaving behind Manon and Keira as they went inside.

“Auntie Manon?” Keira questioned following Manon to the patio door. She didn’t wait for her aunt to respond, “You don’t have to worry. Mommy calls daddy a bastard all the time.”

“I see.” it was the only thing she could muster in the shock of this four-year-old saying bastard. Then again she is Aelin’s child.

After Manon let the dogs in and they kissed all over the little girl. The duo went to their food and skittered off somewhere in the house. Keira flopped onto the crimson sofa as Manon sat next to her. The little girl kicked her feet as her aunt chewed her bottom lip lost in thought. Manon was good at thinking on her toes, but with kids, she was unsure of what to do. Sure she promised her make up lessons. By Aelin’s response, she thought it better to wait until later.

The girl leaned back on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling, “Mama told me you met uncle Dorian on my birthday at the hospital.”

Manon bit back a smile recalling the memory of Asterin's thirteen-hour delivery and the sapphire blue-eyed idiot who wouldn’t leave her alone in the general waiting room, “I did.”

“So you fell in love and married because of me?”

“If that’s what you wanna think kid.” Manon drawled.

Things fell to another beat of silence. Manon was sure the dogs were sprawled out on her bed, napping. The living room felt still and awkward. She could hear the rustle of Keira’s tutu as she moved and twisted angling herself to look at Manon. Manon looked at her from the corner of her eyes as the girl watched her and she could tell Keira had more questions.

“Why don’t you have a baby? Do you want a baby? Mommy says you’re not sure. Daddy tells her it’s none of her business. She sticks out her tongue and then he gives her a spanking,” Keira rushed that all out in a single breath. It was more of Rowan and Aelin then she cared to know.

“Well you’re father is right. It is none of her business and I don’t know."

Manon prayed to whatever God would listen that this conversation would end and soon. She didn’t want to find some child-like way of explaining her fears. Terrified of being a horrible mother. Growing up she didn’t have a mother figure. Her mother and father passed away in a tragic accident. Her grandmother was a hard woman with a cold heart. Because of that Manon believed in the depths of her soul, she would parent with a cold harshness. That wasn’t what she wanted for any future child of hers.

“Babies are cute and funny. You should think about it. Can we watch Frozen and have a tea party?”

Manon furrowed her brows, tapping a finger lightly on her chin, “I’ve never had a tea party before,” she didn’t miss the confused look or the gaping on the small girl, “My grandmother raised me. She wasn’t a tea party kind of person. I learned how to shoot a bow, martial arts, Sword Fighting, which sounds insane now that I think about it.”

Keira’s eyes danced like rays of sun glittering on the clear ocean waters. Her smile grew from ear to ear. If Manon had any doubt this kid belonged to Rowan and Aelin, her excitement over this showed it. With Rowan being an FBI agent in a specialized unit called The Cadre, he knew various skill sets of a violent trade. Aelin took up jiu-jitsu as well as a routine fitness regime. Which Manon knew well being they worked out together. It was no surprise Keira marveled at her confession.

“What would your parents say if I let you play with a wooden sword in the yard?” she grinned.

Keira shot her an incredulous look too much like Aelin.

"I have toy swords all over my home."

"Welp," Manon slapped a hand on her leg, "To the yard. Beat me once I'll buy Frozen and order pizza for lunch. Kids like pizza right?"

Keira nodded jumping off the sofa, speaking with enthusiasm, "Deal!"

Perhaps, this kid thing wasn't all too bad.

******************************

There were no other words to put it. Dorian simply felt bad for his wife. He had a whole day planned for them, but when Chaol called about a meeting his irritating second cousin, Duke demanded to be held today. Citing it needed immediate attention, Dorian had no choice in the matter.

He knew she wasn’t ready for kids if she ever would be. Despite their friends around them growing their families, It suited them both just fine. True, he loved kids. He loved playing with their nieces and nephews during get-togethers, holidays, and the like. A small part of him envied the fatherly joy beheld by Rowan, Chaol, and Lorcan.

He understood the depths of her fears. That it wasn’t the thought of having kids, it was Manon’s inner conflict. The fear of treating her children the way her grandmother treated her, with little love and a brutal life. That thought usually kept her away from kids, even her goddaughter. Dorian despised her grandmother for sowing these feelings so deep into Manon.

When the few times she was with Asterin’s daughter, Stella, or how she was with their dogs, he knew Manon would be the perfect mother. Harsh and stern when needed, yet loving them with such fierceness that even the mere thought made his heart swell with pride. He hoped with two of them watching Keira it would ease that fear. Now he was sitting here in a four-walled office tapping his fingers along the rich mahogany desk and she was home with a child and her fears swirling inside her like darkness.

As he waited for that damned prick, Dorian looked through his emails when the camera icon caught his attention. He might not be able to be with her, but he could watch her. Was it an invasion of privacy? Probably. Would she beat his ass for it? Yes. If he saw her acting like a mother, perhaps he could ease those wicked feelings. It was worth the risk. Clicking the icon and waiting for the cameras to appear he wasn’t prepared for the video that popped up.

There was his wife, her precious crimson blanket passed down from her family on her father’s side, wrapped around her neck like a cloak. Something in her hand, a wooden sword he assumed. Dorian rubbed his palm over his face, keeping it over his mouth hiding his laugh. His wife was in their yard with a play sword clashing against a toddler. Noticing Keira’s hair was now pulled into a braid just like Manon as the small girl charged at her, most likely with a warrior’s cry. His dogs running beside her.

He could envision himself there, with a child of their own running through the yard. With a kid and the dogs trailing behind as he or she chased down their parents. Until they would collide into each other, Dorian tickling the kid while he busied kissing his wife. Abby and Abraxos jumping in on the fun licking whoever they could. Or until one of them fell, like Keira just did of the gravel clutching her legs. He didn’t have to be there to know the girl was crying a wallop of tears falling down her small face. Manon threw the sword down undoing the blanket immediately scooping the girl in her arms and running into their home.

His phone rang as Dorian looked over Manon’s distressed face appearing on his screen. Flicking the answer key he held up his phone smiling at her pretending he didn’t witness the events that unfolded, “Having fun?”

“Dorian I broke the kid," Manon confessed

“Babe you didn’t break her,” he noted the worry hidden behind her golden gaze.

Keira was crying and whimpering in the background. From what he could see, Aelin’s daughter sat on the toilet. Legs propped up, with two bright red knee caps, a deep scarlet slowly trickling down. Manon wiped the blood away once more.

“I already cleaned both knees, but I can’t find any band-aids,” she rushed out, setting her phone down.

Dorian watched as she lowered herself to Keira. Brushing a thumb affectionately over the girl’s tiny hand. The touch he could tell was gentle like a mother’s caress. Manon tucked a stray strand behind her ear.

“You’re a tough girl right?” she said soothingly. Keira sniffled, nodding her head. Manon took a tissue wiping Keira’s tears away, “Tough girls can cry when we get hurt, but we’re strong right?” Another nod followed by a smile from his wife, “ Tough girls dry there eyes because these,” pointing to her knees, “Are your battle scars from defeating the evil witch queen. You should wear them with pride.”

“Okay,” Keira’s voice was barely above a whisper. Dorian was lucky enough to hear it, “We can watch Frozen now? With pizza and a tea party?”

“Soon as I find the band-aids."

Dorian refused to bring attention to what he witnessed. He’d save that for later.

“Manon look on the top shelf in the cabinet. We have a first aid kit in the kitchen too.”

Picking up the phone she replied, “Thanks. I’ll text you later.” and then she clicked off the phone.

Dorian sat in this meeting bored out of his mind. What any part of this couldn’t wait till Monday he didn’t understand. He was only half paying attention to the discussion. His mind on other things as in his wife having a tea party with pizza and Disney films. Being the CEO of Havilliard Enterprises he knew this was highly unprofessional. However, as the man in charge, he could do as he pleased. To which included pulling his phone out and accessing the security cameras of his home. Dorian leaned into the armchair of his cushioned leather seat. Eyes scanning the small squares until he found the camera angled in his living room. If the swordplay warmed his heart, this melted it entirely.

There sat Manon, her back braced against the sofa, tucked in between the base and the coffee table. A box opened in front of her that Dorian figured was pizza. He stifled a laugh seeing she had two coffee mugs on the table and not teacups. It was hard to tell what part of the movie was playing. Seeing Keira twirling around and pulling Manon to her feet, he knew the iconic song that every parent abhorred was about to play. The pride and love in him radiated watching Manon pretend to use ice magic and what he guessed was sing with Keira.

“Mr. Havilliard I had no idea fiances put a smile like that on your face,” Perrington commented in a way that seemed to be a falsified attempt at pleasantries, “Or was I disturbing something important?” he questioned raising his brow.

It was this moment, Dorian knew he’d have enough. This dreadful meeting could wait. He wanted to be near his wife and niece.

Turning his phone off returning it to his pocket as he stood grabbing his blazer from his chair, the faintest glare on his face, “Truthfully Mr. Perrington. I find this immediate finance meeting on a Saturday unimportant. Nothing you have mentioned needed any sense of urgency and could have easily waited until Monday,” Duke went to speak and Dorian held up a hand, “I’m not finished. To answer your question yes you did disturb something important today. If you’ll excuse me I’m going to leave now and we can continue this Monday. Disturb me again when things do not need urgency and you will find yourself out of a job,”

“You wouldn’t do that to your second cousin would you?”

Dorian had to reign in the gag at his pathetic attempt of innocence.

“You mean the same cousin who believes I am unfit to run this company?” Dorian’s smile turned wicked almost lethal striding over to him, clapping a shoulder on the older man squeezing it tightly, “Enjoy your day Duke,” Dorian lowered his head down, “My warning holds. I will fucking fire you.”

******************************

With that Dorian walked away from the grey walled meeting room, leaving a raging Duke Perrington behind. Dorian didn’t care, he was going to go home.

Opening the door with Manon’s favorite merlot in hand, he noticed it was quiet. Too quiet for a four-year-old and two dogs. As if they heard him thinking Abby and Abraxos showed up. Dorian hung his keys on the wall before petting them. He looked around for any movement and saw nothing. The couch was empty and the tv stayed on the rental screen. Settling the bottle on their counter he walked through the house.

“Man? I’m home,” he wondered if they were hiding from him. He did send her a message after all. Maybe they were trying to spook him, “Babe?”

His shoes tapped along the wooden flooring down the hallway. Checking everywhere he could think, even their bedroom. No one. His heart started racing. They weren’t outside and Manon’s car was in the driveway so they didn’t leave. If anyone broke in there was no sign of struggle. Rounding the corner he noticed their library door ajar, though the lights were off. Still, he pressed on pushing against the ivory door. This was Aelin’s kid he should have looked here first.

“Manon?”

Still nothing.

He moved past the various shelves of books. All lined with fantasy, history, and whatever books caught their eyes. Walking past four aisles he wandered into the reading space. In between, two wing-backed chairs he found blankets tied on the knobs of each one, a faint glow coming from within. Dorian silently stepped forward, crouching when he opened the lip of this makeshift tent. Immediately he pulled his phone out to snap a picture before crawling inside.

In the tent, there were pillows scattered across the floor. Manon and Keira huddled in a corner a protective arm wrapped tightly around the little girl. Keira nuzzled into the nape of his wife’s neck. A small hand resting on her chest. Manon’s hand settled over Keira’s hair. Both of them breathing deeply as they slept. Carefully Dorian slipped next to his wife. The tips of his fingers, gingerly running across her arm kissing her brow as he did so. Manon shifted ever so lightly leaning into him. Her hold on Keira remaining tight.

“You’re home earlier than expected,” she whispered keeping her eyes closed.

“I can leave,” he suggested. “And take your wine with me.”

Golden eyes flashed open as quick as she could, Manon turned at him, “Don’t you dare,” she paused, “and my sushi?”

He pulled her and Keira in tighter, his nose brushing along her neck, “I was thinking after Aelin picks up Kay we can order sushi, finish what we started earlier…” he trailed off.

Manon hummed her approval, “practice making a baby,” the way she suggested it gave him the implications she was serious.

He blinked once, twice. His mouth opening several times to speak yet no words would come, until he swallowed thickly as her statement sunk in.

“Manon...Are you serious?” She turned to face him carefully slipping out and away from Keira. Sitting up Dorian followed her movements.

She thought about her day with Keira. From the sword playing to the fear and maternal instincts that kicked in when she fell. Even in her panicked moment how Dorian, unknowing to him calmed Manon. After Manon placed a bandage on her knees, Keira flung herself from the toilet hugging her. At first, she froze surprised by the action, then she returned the hug. Since then she didn't think as a sitter, or an aunt, she thought as a mother. To test it out. Manon pictured her husband with her doing these things, the movies, dancing, innocent duels, and stories in a tent.

When Keira asked for story time in a tent. They built one together, the one they sat in now. It was this moment that truly settled the notion everything would be fine. When Keira snuggled up to her as she read the book about a pig named Olivia. Occasionally Manon would glance over to the empty spot, thinking of this situation with Dorian and a child of their own. It struck her how badly she wanted this. There was an ache, a burn in her chest knowing in a couple of hours and after she does Keira’s makeup, she will be childless again. Until the foreseeable future. And she hated it.

Manon knew not every day would be perfect. There would be days she struggled. That Dorian would struggle. Days where they would argue and days where their kids would be at their absolute worst. Seeing this girl look at her today like she was the world. Filled her with a feeling she couldn’t possibly describe. It was a sensation that made the fear and those soon to be harsh days worth it.

Manon glanced over at Keira watching as she started to stir under the blanket, “Being with her today and you not being here. I kept thinking of what it would be like for us to be doing these things with our own, “turning to face Dorian once more, “I want that Dorian. I want our family to grow. I know on low days as a parent I’ll have you and you won’t let me fall.”

Dorian pulled her into a warm embrace, wrapping his arms around her. Resting his head over hers. Manon ran her hands down the expanse of his back, “I saw you on the security cameras playing with her. I watched you, heard you comfort her when she was hurt. Manon, you will be amazing as a mother and yes I won't let you fall. I'll be here. Always."

                                    ******************************************** 

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[atinybitofau]

[PART 4] S A N ⇲ royal series au

RECAP: san is king of eden, you’re queen of elos under one nation along side 7 other lone kings. the tension between you, san, and mingi get sizzled down when another king comes to aurora for a formal dinner. topics arise and san’s true colors begin to reflect in your eyes.

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⇩ PART FOUR ⇩ , click me to read part three

Dropped now in studded gold, a formal dinner at hand, you made your descent down the long staircase of Mingi’s family home. You were lead by his handmaidens where you eventually find two of the men you had been playing with for the past day and night. Except a new guest on scene appears with a broad smile on his face.

They stood up upon your astounding arrival bowing and all commenting on the beauty you hold— foretold by honor of course. Can’t say that it’s not partly true though. The new guest paced himself towards you with a long bow before taking your hand and leaving a kiss on the back of it. Giggling playfully, you wave him off as he stood back prompt.

“As a neighboring Kingdom, I felt it deemed necessary to join you for dinner this evening. I hope you don’t mind, your highness.”

He holds your hand high and your own lifts layers of your dress to join the company at the table.

“King Kang, please keep the formalities for the crowd.” Chin up high, you set your silverware. “How is sweet Salem? I’d love to visit before I leave for Serene.”

“No need. With all this wishy washy treaties from far off kingdoms trying to marry me off, I find it harder and harder each day.” He sighs, the elegance just oozing off his Kingliness so diligently. “Won’t you marry me instead?”

“You know as well as I, Seonghwa and Hongjoong would never approve.”

“It’s because they still believe I’m sleeping around.”

“And are you?”

“He is.” San and Mingi mused helping the hands set the table.

Defeatedly, Yeosang mutters too, “I am.”

“Of course you are.”

You forget how tall Mingi’s genetics run in his family. His table basically was made for giants. And based on size, you were as good as an elf around him and his things.

“All jokes aside, this talk about marriage is making me curious.” Yeosang starts after you all mass great your meals. “Have you met any suitors as of late, y/n? It’ll be easier for you as someone with little experience and your kingdom now vulnerable.”

“There’s an idea.” Mingi reminds you of your conversation only hours ago.

San seems eerily quiet beside him, your eyes only glancing from time to time to the fierce eyed King.

“Seonghwa has lined up many Kingsman across counties, Hongjoong across nations— worried about how things might end up if I take too long finding a husband.” You say after formerly swallowing you food down.

“Those two.” Yeosang chuckles while sipping on aged wine. “Always a demanding duo. I deject the idea of them setting you up in blind arrangements. You should find a man you feel suited for yourself.”

“I need to focus on the coronation coming up.” you ease out of topic, wiping the remnants left by your lips. “As much as I fancy a husband at a time like this, I would like to be crowned first.”

“Your coronation could serve for two purposes, you know.”

You eye Yeosang in an incredulous manner. “And what other purpose would that be of?”

As someone who lacked relationship within the 8 kingdoms, San felt out of place. For an observant person like yourself, it was hard not to notice. San sulks in his chair under a feeling of harsh criticism, disappointment. It made him anxious. And it left him shy and outwitted.

“San, you should come.” The other kings glance from the juxtaposition a little shocked per se.

All but San who chokes rubbing at his mouth with a cloth napkin. “To settle with the heated hearts of the other Kings, I’m sure they wouldn’t find me being involved too heart warming.”

“Don’t be silly.” Mingi juts in bravely and halfhearted. “Seonghwa has a soft spot for you. They won’t mind it.”

You see San sulk in his chair and you notice. You actually felt sorry for him. With the things going on, the obvious uncertainties you all have regarding Eden’s pride and joy, you shouldn’t feel sorry for him but you do. Like you somehow just want to curl him up in a ball and hug him until a smile breaks out.

You decide to change pace of the conversation by asking, “San have you thought of finding a wife? I mean, with your booming Kingdom it just seems forthwith.”

He glances up at you now, raising an eyebrow over his hooded eyes. “A wife?”

The pace and direction you take under your own terms catches the table by surprise. The noble men stare at you with bubbled curiosity and reading expressions.

“I’ve always ever had my sister.” San adds a little muffled while glancing at the eyes in the room. “I never really thought necessary for another woman in my life.”

“My coronation will have many fine suitors for you.” You implement with little hesitation at all. “You should come. Maybe a woman could do you a little good..”

“That’s an idea.” Mingi’s eyes side-sweeps towards Yeosang who takes note of the invitation you share.

“It would be.. I’m afraid—“

“You’re afraid of?” You don’t wait for the normally jutted King to wonder over your thoughts. “King San, I assure you my coronation is by all means very peaceful. And if it’s judgement you’re afraid of, I’ll take care of the matter in my own hands. So will you come?”

San glares but in a light fashion. He doesn’t understand why you’re being so polite and forward about him attending your ball. In fact, deep down he assumes it to be a ruse in the making. But he knows well of what he’s capable. And saying no to a Queen of your daintiness was definitely something he was not capable of.

“I’ll try my best, princess.”

“I wish I can join you back to Serene, your highness.”

Mingi was to see you off, Yeosang long gone by the time you packed ready to go. San on the other hand was readying his troops and soothing his black stallions for the shorter commute home. You turn back to face Mingi who seemed now in distress that you were leaving so soon. You lift your lace veil off your face and lean forward on tip toes to kiss him goodbye.

He sighs with his hands on yours. “I really do dread watching you leave sometimes.”

“I visit often.” you chuckle tightening your grasp. “We’ll see each other in 9 days. It’s not too long now is it?”

“For me, it may be.”

“Don’t be silly.” you smile at him as he nods off an officer who whispers in his ear.

His fingers are rubbing at his temples, visibly irritant from the secretive request he’s been told. Your lips now frown finding it hard to watch him leave too.

“I’m afraid I’m being beckoned by the Grand Duke.” He whispers while leaning against your ear. He pulls you in a strong embrace before reluctantly leaving you first. “Please do be careful on your journey back. I will try to attend your Kingdom sooner than 9 days promised.”

“Rest.” You tell him honestly. “Thank you for everything, Mingi. Truly.”

He’s beckoned once more before he stands by his men to revel a bow before you and San. You wave him off as he makes his way back up the castle steps, his heart clearly telling him not to turn around. King Mingi was a romanticist. It ran in his blood.

“Unfortunately this will be my goodbye as well.”

You whip around upon pulling your veil back over your face. San’s now, hat over his curly night colored hair, eyes staring at you and only a mask to cover his lips. He bows a whole 90 degree angle before waiting for your words of honor.

“You will attend my ceremony..” You remind him with your eyes stern into San’s demonic eyes. “.. Right?”

He blinks at you once. “I will try my best, princess, but I can’t make any promises.”

You smile to yourself bowing your head in conspicuous respect. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to kill me through our time together. Despite the fact, I felt welcoming relief having spent some time with you anyway so thank you for that.”

You can tell the corners of his lips nudged just by how far his dimples caved in. You feel softly lost in his eyes by it being the only thing visible behind his mask.

“And I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to cut off my—“

“Okay San.” You cringe. “I get it. Thank you.”

“It was nice getting to know you Princess. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

“So you are attending my coronation.” You call after him as he cooly jumps on his horse.

“I mean,” he stops for a second when his horse neighs at the pull of it’s lead. “If I’m requested by a beautiful woman, it’s hard for me to say no.”

You roll your eyes. “9 days, San. Don’t forget.”

The carriages start moving but San holds back just to get one more look at you under the rising moon.

“I’ll try not to.”

Call it anxiousness.

Or maybe it was the moon talking.

But you’re somehow weighted more when San leaves than just minutes earlier when Mingi did.

@atinybitofau