#he can’t publicly say anything else but also

[btsbs]

.

[cameronsprincess]

— summary: kook princess. kook prince. perfect match, right? wrong. you hated rafe cameron and everything he stood for. and he hated you. so when your fathers spring it on the two of you that they’d arranged for the two of you to be married, both of your worlds are flipped upside down.

— CW: 18+ only! strong language, slightly aggressive!rafe, heated kissing, fingering, rafe is honestly super sweet n cute in this.

— note: it’s getting sexy in here😏

prev parts: one, two, three

series masterlist ⤑ taglist form

Y/N

I wake the next morning, my head throbbing and the smell of coffee filtering in through my bedroom door. I yawn, going to stretch my limbs but the feel of a strong set of arms draped across my waist has me stilling, my mind racing a hundred miles a minute.

What the fuck….?

I glance to the right of my bed, the sound of slow and steady breathing I hadn’t heard at first now hitting my ears. Oh fuck. Rafe. What is he doing in my bed? What the hell happened last night?

The last thing I remembered was him kissing me after our parents announced the engagement, and then he lead me into the kitchen where we both indulged in the copious amounts of alcohol my parents had provided for the night. I remembered the two us of finding his friends, Topper and Kelce, talking to them for a while before we had wandered off somewhere else within the house.

We’d gotten along fairly well last night. We weren’t fighting, or acting like we’d hated each other, but that didn’t mean anything… Right? Nothing happened between Rafe and I. It couldn’t have..

I softly lift his arm up and off my waist, letting it fall onto the bed before I lifted the covers, taking an inventory of my clothes. I still had my dress on, my underwear and bra hadn’t been removed… I felt fine. So why is Rafe in my bed? From what I’ve been told, — and just from what I’ve seen — Rafe didn’t sleep in bed with a girl unless he was fucking her.. But then again, he also never publicly showed affection towards any female, and last night he’d kissed me in front of a large crowd.

Swinging my legs over the side of my bed, I plant my feet on the ground, slowly and quietly trying to slip out the bed. I make it out of the bed, tiptoeing to my bathroom, but when my hand hits the knob, Rafe’s voice has my body tensing up.

“Trying to sneak out on me, huh?”

Fuck, he sounds sexy in the morning. His voice is low and raspy and thick with sleep. I release the door knob, slowly turning to face him. He’s laid on his side, his right elbow propped up on the bed with his right hand holding his face as he stares back at me. I rub my thighs together, trying to shake away the throb that’d formed between my legs from just looking at him.

I clear my throat, “Uh, no. I just.. I just need to brush.. Just need to brush my teeth.”

Fuck, I sound like a fucking idiot. Stumbling over my words like a fucking high school girl with a crush… Why is he making me feel things like this? I’ve always hated him, but now… Now I’m seeing him in a slightly different light, and I can’t shake the feelings that are digging their way up.

He smirks at me, breathing out a small laugh before he turns and lets his head fall back into my pillows. I watch as he makes himself comfortable in my bed, my eyebrows shooting up to my hairline in confusion and shock. Rafe Cameron in my bed? If you would have told me this would be happening just a week ago, I’d laugh in your fucking face and say “Only in his dreams.”

Rafe turns his head to the side, bright blue eyes scanning the length of my body before he says, “Go brush your teeth and change into something more comfortable, then come back in here. We should talk.”

I open my mouth to respond, tell him that he can’t tell me what to do. But nothing comes out. I just clamp my mouth shut and turn, opening the bathroom door and quickly shutting myself inside.

My back hits the door, sliding down until my ass hits the cool tiled floors. I run my hands through my hair, something scraping against my scalp when as I do. I pull my left hand down, holding it out in front of my face. My eyes go wide when I notice the large diamond that sat on my finger. Holy shit? This wasn’t here last night… Is this? Of course it is, how could I not think that there’d be a ring? We’re getting married for Christ’s sake.

I begin sucking in large gasps of air, trying to mentally calm myself. It’s happening. He’s not so bad, is he? When the fuck did he put this ring on my finger? Why the fuck is this my life? What does he want to talk about? All the annoying, but valid thoughts run rampant in my mind. I shake my head, trying to shove all the incessant thoughts away as I will my shaky legs to stand again.

Quickly brushing my teeth and taking three ibuprofen, I push open my bathroom door and make my way back into my bedroom. Rafe still lays on my bed, but he’s on his phone now. He slowly turns his head, his icy blue gaze slowly moving from my feet and up to my face.

My face heats up under his intense stare. “What?” I ask, my voice slightly shaking. Damnit.

He locks his phone, placing it on the nightstand and sitting himself up in my bed, his back rested up against the headboard.

“You gonna change? That dress cannot be comfortable.”

I glance down at the tight fitted white dress my mom had chosen for me to wear last night. “Uh.. Yeah.”

I slowly make my way to my dresser, opening it and pulling out a pair of pink silk shorts and a white tank top. I slowly inch toward the bathroom again, but Rafe clears his throat, stopping me in my tracks.

“You don’t have to be shy around me. I’m gonna be your husband after all.”

My brows pinch together in confusion. “What do you want from me? You went from hating me to… not hating me… so fast. So what’s the catch?”

Rafe chuckles. “Who said I didn’t still hate you? You’re stuck up. You have this ‘I’m better than you’ complex. You don’t like fun,” He pauses, his blue eyes searching my face. “Honestly, you’re not my first choice for a wife. To be honest, I’m not sure I ever wanted to be married. But here we are. I guess you can say I’ve just accepted the situation we’ve found ourselves in.”

My entire body heats up. Of course he still hates me, I didn’t expect a week to change anything. But what does he want from me? “You don’t have to be shy around me.” What the fuck does that even mean? Does he think that just because we’re supposed to be married in three weeks that I’ll just throw all my morals away and let him have his way with me? Fuck that, he’ll have to work for me, even if all I want to do is bare myself to him and let him touch me.

I nod my head once. “Understood. So tell me then, Rafe. What is it you want from me? You want me to strip for you? You want me to just give myself to you because you’re set to be my husband? I’ve gone twenty-one years without letting a man see me or touch me, and believe me when I say, I can go another twenty-one. I won’t give into you so easily, I’m not one of your many girls that will just drop to her knees when you ask. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to change, and I’d like it if you’re gone by the time I come back out.”

I turn and grasp the doorknob, pushing open the bathroom door but Rafe’s hand gripping the back of my neck has my clothes falling to the floor, a sharp gasp pulled from my chest.

He spins me around, keeping a firm hold on my neck as his cold, blue eyes stare down at me.

“Princess, you will give into me. You will drop to your knees when I ask. And you will love every second of it, because I can promise you one thing, of all the men that could be your first, you’re lucky it’ll be me.”

I yank myself free from his grasp. My right hand lands a sharp slap across his cheek before I can process what I was doing. Oh shit. Did I just do that? Fuck fuck fuck. He’s definitely going to make me pay for that, and although I’m not necessarily afraid of Rafe Cameron, I can’t help but fear what he might do to me for such a stupid mistake.

His wild blue eyes stare down at me. I can’t quite read the expression on his face, but I can see the fire blazing behind those cool blue eyes, and it’s frightening. I open my mouth to apologize, but Rafe’s right hand grips the back of my neck tightly again, his lips crushing mine in a searing kiss.

I try and fight him off of me, but to no avail. He’s much stronger than me, and his grip on the back of my neck is bruising this time. He kisses me with so much force and passion it has my knees going weak and my heart thrumming wildly in my chest.

Rafe’s tongue flicks my upper lip, and I absentmindedly part my lips for him, allowing him to shove the pink muscle into my mouth. His left hand runs up my side, squeezing at my hip tightly before it continues its way up and around to the zipper on the back of my dress.

He breaks the kiss, his darkened over eyes staring down into mine. Slowly, he tugs the zipper down, the straps of my dress falling loosely down my shoulders as he does. He never takes his eyes off mine as he pushes the dress down my body, leaving me in nothing but the silky white bra and panties I’d chose to wear last night.

Releasing the grip on my neck, he steps back, planting both hands on my hips as his eyes take in my body. My heart picks up in my chest, beating wildly now, I don’t think I breathe as he continues staring down at me.

“Rafe… What’re you-”

He dips his head down, claiming my lips with his again as his hands run down my hips and to my ass. He grips the flesh in his hands, a small gasp escaping me at the unknown feeling. The spot between my legs is throbbing, my thighs rubbing together to try and ease the ache I felt.

Rafe breaks the kiss once more. “You’re very beautiful. Why do you hide? Why have you never let a man touch you?”

My cheeks burn from his question. It’s not that I’ve never wanted to be touched, and it’s not like I haven’t had the opportunity, I just didn’t like any of the men who threw themselves at me. I didn’t want to be just another notch in someone’s belt, and that’s exactly what I would’ve been to any man on this island.

“Y/N? You okay?”

Rafe’s soft but firm voice pulls me out of my own head, and I raise my eyes to meet his. Deep blue pools stare down at me, and something in my heart swells. I don’t know when I’d started feeling for Rafe within the last week, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about it…

“I- I’m fine..”

His brow pinches together, a look of confusion etched into his beautiful face. He thankfully didn’t push the subject though.

His hands roam the expanse of my body, a trail of goosebumps left in the wake of his fingers. He digs his fingertips into the waistband of my panties, his eyes meeting mine once more. “Can I?”

My hands shake, and a large knot has formed in my throat. I knew I shouldn’t give in, I told myself not to give in, but something inside me had my head nodding a silent ‘yes’ to him.

His fingers dip down and into the silky material before the pushed down, letting the soft material fall around my ankles. My hands fell, instinctively covering myself from his eyes, but his large hands come down and slowly grip my wrists, pulling them away.

“Rafe..”

“Shhh, just let me make you feel good, alright?”

I slowly nodded my head, averting my eyes to the ground. He takes my right hand in his, pulling us toward my bed. He sits down first, still clad in his dress slacks but no shirt, pulling me down next and situating me between his thighs.

His left hand pushes my legs further apart, and every muscle in my body tenses. My nerves were on high alert, was I really about to let Rafe Cameron touch me? Yes. Was I nervous about what this meant after? Yes and no. He was going to be my husband after all, may as well get used to him now, right?

His fingers slowly run down my thigh, sending a shiver down my spine at the soft touch. He slowly inches down, down, down until his fingers reach the most sensitive part of my body. I gasp as his index finger lightly brushes against my clit, the sensitive bud throbbing with need.

Rafe’s lips kiss softly on my shoulder and up to my neck, the heat of his breath on my skin making my body tingle. “‘M gonna insert a finger now, okay? Tell me if it’s too much.”

My eyes squeeze shut, my lower lip trapped between my teeth as I nod my head once more. He slowly pushes his index finger inside me, groaning once he’s knuckle deep. “Shit, you’re so wet, princess.”

Slow and steady pushes of his finger has my breath catching in my throat, this felt unreal, like nothing I’d ever been able to do for myself. His lips left soft, wet kisses on the skin of my neck and shoulder as he continued to push his thick finger in and out of my arousal slick core, our uneven breaths mixing together in the air.

“Gonna add another, okay?” Rafe warned before his ring finger slowly pushed its way inside as well.

The feeling, the stretch, it felt amazing. Tears welled in the back of my eyes as he slowly thrusted his fingers inside of me, his thumb pressing firmly against my clit, slow torturous circles being rubbed against it.

A tight feeling brewed in my lower belly as his fingers picked up pace, his thumb still slowly rubbing against my sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Rafe… Oh, God.. I-”

My brain was fuzzy, this unfamiliar feeling growing inside me, white hot pleasure threatening to rush through me.

“You’re close,” Rafe whispered against my neck, “I can feel you clenching around my fingers. You can let go, baby. Make a mess on my hand.”

Strangled “mmphs” and “ahhh��s” fell from my lips, the pressure building up more and more until it exploded. Pure euphoria rushed through my entire body from my head to the tips of my toes, my body shaking and small, quiet whimpers escaping me.

Rafe didn’t let up, he continued to finger me through my high, his teeth nipping at my shoulder, earlobe and neck as he did. My body fell limp in his arms, his fingers finally slowing in pace before he removed them completely. I turned my head to face him, his eyes on mine as he shoved the two arousal soaked fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean.

“I… Thank you..” I said softly, trying to ignore the slight awkward tension that now crowded my room.

Rafe smiled, a real, genuine smile for once. “You’re welcome. I just believe we should get used to being around one another, I mean.. We’re getting married right? And I’ve always found you beautiful, I was just too stuck in my ways of hating you that I would never admit that shit out loud.”

His hard dick pressed into my ass, serving as a reminder that he’d just taken care of me, and I should probably return the favor.

“Do you… Uh.. Do you want me to, help you…” I asked awkwardly, my eyes darting from his face down to his lower region.

He chuckled. “Nah. Another day, sweet girl. We have a lot to do today.”

Oh shit. That’s right, today was food and cake tasting for the wedding, Rafe and I had to pick what entrées, appetizers, cake, et cetera we wanted to have for the wedding. I quickly jumped off my bed, grabbing my phone and checking the time. Shit. It’s ten-thirty. I had an hour and a half to shower and get ready to go.

“I’m uh.. I’m gonna shower.. You gonna be here when I get out?”

“Nah, I’m gonna head home and get ready myself, but I’ll be back here in an hour to pick you up. Please be ready?”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah yeah, I’ll be ready. Um.. Thanks, again.”

He nods his head once, grabbing his shirt off my floor and tossing it on. I watch as he makes his way out of my room before I kick it into high gear and begin getting ready. I tried to shake the feelings I felt from my mind, but nothing worked. As much as I hated to admit it, I was falling for Rafe and his charm. The next hour, hell even the weeks to come, my mind was plagued with thoughts of the one person I never in a million years thought I could tolerate. Rafe Cameron.

RAFE TAGLIST: @drewstarkeyslut @princessslutt @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @rafesthroatbaby @sturnioloshacker @starkeysprincess @rafescurtainbangz @atorturedpoetx @redhead1180 @jjsmarijuana @romaescapes @kisses4angel @lovelysturnioloos @maybankslover @bellbottombaby @simars3 @rafesgiirl @urbimom @heartsforrafecameron @antagonize-me-motherfucker @araminsstufff @chaneydoll @bi-zowee @uraesthete @rafemotherfuckingcameron @gibbsgirl7 @queenvane @anobsessedwoman @sunny1616 @princesssuki21

[marksbear2]

Hii I was wondering if you would write for TASM peter. Also would you write the smut ABC's for any characters because I haven't seen one for him and I'd love to see it (specifically from nwh for this)

PETER PARKER X MALE READER

This is my first time ever writing one of these!! Uhm so I’m still struggling with my mental health and stuff but I promised that I’ll be back before the 23rd so here I am!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Very shocked but like in the goofy awkward way. He likes to cuddle and hold you close while smiling ear to ear. He likes to tell you his favorite things you did.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his hands, to hold and grip you close and close with him. He likes your arms the way you hold him tightly and he likes seeing your arms flex, also your back.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes facials, both receiving and giving them. He’s let you shoot your cum on his face and especially when he wears his glasses.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wouldn’t mind doing it somewhere publicly but safe. Like in the bathroom stall during school or alone at night in the park.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

None, the only experience he has was watching porn. Lmao.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary or mating press, anything that you two are close enough to make eye contact and to kiss.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

At first when you two just start out having sex he’ll let out nervous chuckles. But as you two get closer he’ll crack a joke here and there while moaning.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s not that wildly bushy but he is hairy, but it’s neat and sometimes trimmed. But on some occasion yes he is bushy.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Completely focused on you like he’s in a trance, nothing else crosses his mind only you. He wants to see you and be close with you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He jerks off pretty often, whenever you two are alone but too tired to have sex you’ll two will jerk one another off, maybe edging to.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves roleplaying, you or him could wear his Spider-Man suit while the other would be a fan or villain. Or other roleplays like jock and nerd.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His or your room, or the living room on the couch. He can get off doing literally anywhere so

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Hearing you say his name, hearing his name roll off your tongue, he’ll already be ready for the next round it doesn’t matter who’s the top.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Someone watching or like being cucked. He would literally crash out because he thinks the thought of s someone watching is embarrassing but someone actually wanting to have sex with you makes him wanna commit.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves giving head, he’ll be under the table or blanket sucking you off until your dick literally can’t cum anynore.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the moment, when you two both are okay and happy he would fuck you or take it in a fast but deep pace but when you two aren’t okay he likes to take it slow as deep but very gentle.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He actually likes quickies, he would try to get off as fast as he could. You two probably do it moe often then most would.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s willingly to take risk and try out new things no matter how confusing or scary it’ll be. He has an ‘You only live once’ type of mindset.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Four maybe six, he can take a lot even if your extremely rough with him. But after a long and hard rough day of hero work maybe only one round.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He owns rope and such, it’s for either of you two be tied up he doesn’t really care. Sometimes he’d use his web slinger to tie you up onto something so it’s sturdy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes to tease, he’ll give you flirty signals and winks and make innocent things like drinking water seem dirty.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s pretty loud, he whines and moans while he gasps a lot.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Whenever he’s super exhausted he would cockwarm you, you could softly thrust into him or not and just hold and cuddle him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s one of those skinny guys with a expressive dick. He’s about 5’4 inches when he’s soft and an solid 8 in when he’s hard. He’s an real grower.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s very horny, he’s not a pervert or anything but when your in the mood he’ll be in the mood to. He’s buzzing with easy arousal.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a while to fall asleep because he’s just yapping about how much he likes having sex with you and such but when you two are finally getting quiet he’ll drift to sleep in your arms.

THE END

[littlespoonevan]

Princess Diaries 2 au!

not me already cheating askdjfhsa so i actually have the first chapter of this fic written but i never got any further than that so i never posted it. but!!! that means you are in luck bc i can offer you 3.5k almost immediately lmao

i had a lot of fun rereading this though so hopefully this might give me some motivation to keep going with it 🤞✨

-

“You want to do what?”

Buck’s parents regard him with identical disdainful looks. It’d almost be intimidating if he wasn’t on the receiving end of looks like that from both of them at least once a day.

“Evan, this doesn’t concern you,” his mother sighs.

“Like hell it doesn’t!” he exclaims, looking wildly between his parents and his sister. “Aren’t you forgetting what happened the last time you tried to stick Maddie in an arranged marriage-“

“Evan,” Maddie cuts in, voice gentle but firm enough for Buck to deflate. The smile she offers him is resigned. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not alright,” he protests weakly.

“Maddie understands the responsibilities she has as our daughter,” his father says, the, you don’t, heavily implied.

“Regardless, she’s far too old to be concerning herself with something as trivial as a love match,” his mother scoffs and Maddie’s mouth tightens into a thin line.

His parents love to bring up that Maddie is in her late thirties and still single. As if the whole reason for that isn’t because the last person they set up her up with tried to kill her – a trauma from which she’s obviously still recovering. Buck’s not about to let it happen again, not on his watch.

“Do you understand what a match like this could do for our family?” Margaret continues. Buck’s never understood his parents’ obsession with titles and social climbing. He would’ve figured still being a viscount and viscountess would be enough for anyone when, y’know, no one gives a shit about the monarchy nowadays.

“Besides, lord knows the Diazes would be indebted to us for even agreeing to it,” Philip adds with a derisive snort.

“I’ve heard Prince Edmundo is very pleasant,” Maddie offers, clearly trying to placate Buck and possibly trying to convince herself also. She’s putting on a brave face but Buck knows she’s nervous after Doug. It’s been years but Maddie still jumps at shadows.

Buck rolls his eyes. He may never have met him before but Buck has heard the scandal surrounding Prince Edmundo. He fell in love with a commoner and tried to marry her but his parents refused the match. Then, four years ago, a child was left at the palace gates with a letter addressed to Prince Edmundo. Apparently before they were forced apart Edmundo had gotten her pregnant and she was no longer in a position to take care of the child. Within hours, the whole world knew.

The Diazes had hired an entire new security team after that.

Buck hasn’t heard much since but he does know the potential marriage King Ramon and Queen Helena had been arranging for Edmundo completely fell through with the reveal of the child and he hasn’t publicly dated anyone since.

So now they’re here: a proposed match between Maddie and Edmundo so Edmundo can ascend the throne in the fall like he’s supposed to.

 “I still don’t like it,” Buck mutters.

“How about a compromise?” Maddie suggests then. “We have a trial period.

“I personally have no desire to get married to a stranger – I would, at least, like to know the man’s favourite food or his hobbies – so why don’t we see if Prince Edmundo would be agreeable to my coming to stay at the palace? Six months. A proper courtship. And, if anything untoward happens or I suspect something isn’t right, the union is ended.”

Their parents share a look, conversing only with their eyes and pinched mouths. Eventually their father looks back to them. “If the Diazes agree, then fine. But Maddie, you are running out of time. If Prince Edmundo doesn’t marry you then you can’t protest whoever else we choose. You’ve put it off long enough.”

Buck wants to protest but he knows this isn’t his fight. He’ll get his turn whenever they decide to turn his attention to him. He watches Maddie take a measured breath and is, once again, in awe of his sister’s ability to keep her composure. He can never do that. He always feels too much.

She looks their parents dead in the eye and nods. “I understand.”

“I’ll write to Helena then,” Margaret sighs.

~

“I don’t like it.”

Eddie just about refrains from rolling his eyes. He suspects the hand he has braced against his temple is just about the only thing preventing his parents from seeing the exasperation on his face.

“It sounds perfectly reasonable to me,” Eddie says and his mother clucks her tongue.

“Of course it does, Eddie. You’re just looking for a way to get out of this.”

“No, I’m not,” he exhales. He’s long since given up on trying to get out of this marriage. Any hope he had of marrying for love ended when his parents forced him to kick Shannon to the curb. Christopher arriving on his doorstep a few years ago left that hope buried six feet beneath the ground.

Truthfully, he doesn’t care anymore. His priority is Christopher now. He doesn’t need romantic love; all he needs is a political match with someone who will, at best, be decent to his son or, at worst, ignore Eddie and Christopher except for public appearances.  

He understands Maddie’s reticence though.

“Maddie’s last fiancé tried to murder her, Mother,” Eddie points out. “She doesn’t know me. Of course she’d be hesitant to marry immediately.”

“Philip and Margaret never mentioned this when we were making the arrangements though,” his father cuts in and Eddie does roll his eyes this time.

“They probably hadn’t told her yet,” he says. “Really, I don’t mind.” If anything, six months in which his parents fixate on someone else besides him sounds like a dream come true.

His parents whisper to each other but Eddie doesn’t bother trying to listen in. Instead he glances out the window to where Chimney is training in their new security hire, Ravi. The kid looks fresh out of high school and like he spooks way too easily but Eddie still wishes he was out there with them. Or in the playroom with Carla and Christopher.

Or anywhere that isn’t here.

“Fine,” Helena says, snapping him back into reality. “We’ll allow it. But you are to be on your best behaviour, Eddie. Do you understand how difficult it was for us to find you a match after your indiscretions-“

“You mean my son?”

His mother huffs. “You know we love Christopher. But people talk and you must admit your actions with that woman were completely reckless. Just like always.”

Eddie ducks his head, fists clenching in frustration. “Mom, it’s been nearly ten years since I last even saw Shannon. I was a kid. I was stupid. But I’m not going to apologise for it. Not when it gave me my son.”

“Don’t speak to your mother like that,” Ramon commands but then he folds, just slightly, and rubs at his forehead. “This is a good thing, Edmundo. It’s almost time for you to ascend the throne. It is your turn to honour this family; try to see that.”

Eddie doesn’t think there’s a single word in the English language he hates more than honour. Rolling his shoulders, he lowers his gaze and nods in acquiescence.

~

Eddie spends the rest of the day preparing for the Buckleys’ arrival with Hen, taking the chance to duck away to his room when she gets a phone call. She scowls at him and flaps her hand in a gesture that clearly indicates she doesn’t want him to go anywhere but he pretends not to understand and gets out of reach before she can grab him.

She’s confirmed Maddie’s brother, Evan, will be coming with her as well as Maddie’s personal security guard, Athena Grant. Eddie wasn’t aware the children of viscounts needed their own security detail but he guesses for Maddie it might be an extra precaution.

He’s heard the story, of course. How she and her previous husband had beaten the odds. Arranged marriages were common in their world but one that was also a love match was all but unheard of for people like them.

But Maddie and her fiancé, Doug, had seemed like the real thing. Their lavish wedding had been the talk of royal enthusiasts everywhere – the only people who actually pay attention to high society weddings. Then, a little over a year ago, Maddie was brutally attacked and almost killed.

Her husband had been the culprit.

And if Eddie’s sources are to be believed, Doug had been beating her the entire time they were together. Honestly, Eddie’s surprised she even agreed to the match. Though, if her parents are anything like his own, he doubts she had any say in the matter.

It makes him feel only the tiniest bit better about his own situation.

Losing Shannon is a pain that still aches deep inside of him but at least he’d loved her and she’d loved him back. And if nothing else, she’d given him Christopher, the most precious gift of Eddie’s life.

With him and Maddie…well. He doesn’t think they’ll fall in love but maybe they can be friends. After all, isn’t that what marriage is? Companionship? Eddie’s had love now; he knows what it felt like. Once is more than enough for him. He can be grateful for that – it’s more than most people get in his line of work.

A knock at his open door rouses him from his reverie and he looks up to find his abuela standing at the threshold, a mischievous sort of smile on her face.

“Abuela,” he says warmly.

“I hear we have visitors coming?” she says, crossing into his room and coming to rest at the chaise longue near his writing desk.

“I’m pretty sure Mom’s arranging a car as we speak,” he says, flashing a fake smile.

Abuela hums, regarding him with an appraising look as if she’s trying to read everything he’s not saying in the set of his shoulders or the slant of his eyebrows. She’s always been far too perceptive when it comes to him.

“How are you really feeling, Eddito?” she asks. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Eddie hangs his head, letting out a weary sigh, before coming to sit beside her. “Do I have much of a choice?”

“You always have a choice,” she tuts. “Don’t let your parents make you think you don’t.”

“I always knew what my life would be. This isn’t some cruel twist of fate handed down by the universe. It’s my duty – to my family, to this kingdom.”

“And what about your duty to yourself?” she asks quietly and Eddie looks away.

He takes a moment to rally himself before he can manage to smile at her again. “I’ve gotten everything I want from life already. Christopher is enough. I don’t need anything else.”

Abuela watches him with something that could be pity on anyone else. From her, it’s just an overwhelming sense of empathy and love. She reaches out to pat his cheek and Eddie marvels – as he always does – at the way the casual affection he shares with her and his aunt never comes as easily with his parents.

“Protect yourself, Eddie,” she murmurs, a quiet request. “Please. For me. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He swallows, emotion he doesn’t expect clogging his throat. “You had an arranged marriage. So did Mom and Dad. I’ll be fine,” he promises, lifting a hand to cover Abuela’s with his own where it still rests on his cheek.

“I know,” she says, smiling in a way that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “And I was very happy with your abuelo. But you, mi ángel, have always dreamed of love. I want that for you.”

Tears burn behind his eyes but he blinks them away and forces a bright smile onto his face.

“I’m sure the Maddie will be a perfectly good match.”

It sounds like a lie even to himself.

~

Buck yanks at his tie for the sixth time since they got out of the car and Maddie slaps his hand away.

“Relax,” she mutters. “I feel like you’re more nervous than I am.”

He lets his hand drop with a sigh, shooting Athena a winning grin when she casts them both a sidelong glance. She rolls her eyes before turning back to talking to the Diaz chief of staff, Bobby Nash, as they make their way up the steps of the palace. Henrietta Wilson, who is Bobby’s second in command and evidently personally responsible for Prince Edmundo, keeps pace with him and Maddie.

“How are you feeling?” he asks under his breath and Maddie gives him an exasperated smile.

“I’m fine,” she insists, reaching out to latch onto his pinkie finger with her own and giving it a quick squeeze. “You don’t need to worry.”

“I can’t help it,” he mutters.

Up until now Buck has been able to pretend this is all some farcical plan or- or a vacation for him and Maddie! But now they’re here and they’re about to have a formal introduction with the royal family and it suddenly feels real. Maddie’s getting married. Courtship or not, that’s the end goal in all this and she’s not going to be able to say no unless Buck can find a legitimate reason why.

And maybe it’s not Prince Edmundo’s fault and maybe he’s just as helpless in all of this as Maddie is but Buck’s still ready to hate him on sight.

This whole thing feels wrong, out of place. Maddie shouldn’t have to get married again if she doesn’t want to. And she sure as hell shouldn’t have to marry someone just to satisfy their parents’ need for social climbing. It’s not fair. She’s been through enough and he can’t believe their parents are willing to put her through another potential trauma by forcing her into an arranged marriage.

Well, not if Buck has anything to say about it.

He’s older now than he was when she and Doug first met and he’s determined to do whatever it takes to protect her. He even convinced his parents to let him be Maddie and Prince Edmundo’s chaperone during their courtship. (Not in an official capacity but still.)

It’s not much but if it lets him keep Maddie’s safe, it’s worth it.

They reach the main entryway and Buck grinds to an abrupt halt, just stopping short of barrelling straight into Athena. She gives him a look like she knows that’s exactly what he was about to do and he ducks his head, chagrined.

Henrietta clears her throat, clearly attempting to bite back a smirk when Buck looks up at her. “Ready?”

She’s talking to Maddie but Buck still has to tamp down on the urge to say no.

“Of course,” Maddie breathes and the doors open.

One of the other staff members introduces them. Buck hears it just as they step inside.

“Presenting the honourable Madeleine Buckley and her brother, Evan Buckley.”

The royal family are waiting by the staircase for them, their expressions ranging from eager to cordial.

And well. Prince Edmundo is exceedingly handsome, he’ll give him that.

He’s tall, though not quite as tall as Buck, dressed in formal attire with his hair swept back off his face in a way that looks seemingly effortless – unlike the fifteen minutes Buck spends in front of the mirror in the morning trying to make his curls sit just right. His tanned skin and big brown eyes, coupled with the affable smile make him seem…

Charming. He is, quite frankly, the fairy-tale definition of a Prince Charming and Buck feels himself seethe with something that’s not quite jealousy but maybe somewhere adjacent to that.

Prince Edmundo steps forward and, for the first time, Buck notices the little boy behind him. That must be his son, Christopher. He’s got crutches under his arms to keep him steady and one of the Diaz’s staff stands beside him – a kindly looking woman that keeps her hand protectively on his shoulder.

“Miss Buckley,” Prince Edmundo greets, stepping forward to take Maddie’s hand. He presses a faint kiss to the back of it and Buck bites the inside of his cheek so hard he’s pretty sure he draws blood. “It’s an honour to meet you.”

“And you as well, your highness,” Maddie replies, offering up a curtsy and a careful smile. And if nothing else, Buck will admit the smile Prince Edmundo offers in response seems more sincere than Doug’s ever was.

He turns to Buck then, extending a hand to shake.

“Your highness,” Buck greets before Prince Edmundo gets a chance to, giving his hand a too-tight shake and finishing it off with a half-assed smile.

Prince Edmundo raises an eyebrow but decorum wins out above anything else. “Mr Buckley,” he returns, his own hand tightening for a moment around Buck’s. If Buck didn’t know any better he’d almost think he was amused.

Queen Helena interrupts then, gliding forward to take Maddie’s hand. “Madeleine. It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

Maddie bows again, greeting the queen with a, “Your majesty,” that betrays none of the unease she might be feeling. One thing’s for sure, their parents trained her well.

“Welcome to our home,” King Ramon adds, coming to stand beside his wife and offering Maddie a greeting of his own.

They greet Buck and Athena next, completely pleasant and completely perfunctory. Their focus is on Maddie and that’s abundantly clear. Well, that’s fine with Buck. It’ll make it a hell of a lot easier for him to poke holes in this whole match if no one’s paying attention to him.

“We hope your journey was pleasant?” Helena says, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“It was very comfortable,” Maddie assures. “It was so generous of you to send a car.”

“It was our pleasure,” Helena says then and she looks like she means it. “Well, we’d love to stay and chat a bit more but I’m afraid the king and I have a very important meeting we must attend to.”

“The work never stops,” Ramon jokes. “Eddie will show you to your living quarters and we’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

With that, they take their leave and Buck lets out the breath he’s been holding this entire time.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Prince Edmundo does the same. But then he turns to them with a beatific smile and gestures to the staircase.

“You must be tired after your journey. I can show you to your rooms and give you some time to get settled?”

The car ride had only been a couple of hours but Buck’s not gonna complain. Standing on ceremony is exhausting.

“Thank you, Prince Edmundo,” Maddie says because Buck might’ve used up all his manners by now but she clearly hasn’t. “That’s very kind of you.”

For the first time, there’s something almost awkward in the prince’s demeanour. Buck doesn’t understand what it is until he says, “Please, call me Eddie. I don’t see any reason why we should have to stick to formalities if we’re going to be getting to know each other as we are over the next few months.”

Maddie’s shoulders drop where she stands beside him and Buck is begrudgingly impressed Prince Edmundo – Eddie – has managed to put his sister at ease.

“In that case, please call me Maddie,” she says. “I don’t need any titles. And Evan-“

“Goes by Buck,” he cuts in, flashing Eddie a closed-lip smile.

“Buck,” Eddie repeats, as if testing the name out.

Buck hates that he actually likes how it sounds coming from him.

“I’ll remember that,” Eddie says before glancing over his shoulder. “And um, if we’re still making introductions, I’d like you to meet our chaperone.”

He steps aside and Buck watches as the little boy takes three tentative steps forward to stand at his father’s side. Eddie immediately crouches down to his level once he does, wrapping a comforting arm around him and Buck hates his own traitorous heart for melting a little at the sight. “This is my son, Christopher.”

“Hi, Christopher,” Maddie says, voice warm and welcoming, as she holds out a hand for him to shake. She always was amazing with kids. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

Christopher takes her hand after a moment’s hesitation and stutters out a soft, “Miss Buckley,” that has Buck biting his lip so he can maintain his composure.

Why did Eddie have to have such a cute kid?

“You don’t have to call me that,” Maddie says with a chuckle. “You can just call me Maddie if you like.”

Christopher nods and lets go of her hand and then Maddie is reaching back for Buck. “This is my brother, Evan.”

Buck huffs at his given name but obediently steps forward, crouching down in the same manner Eddie had to get on Christopher’s level.

“My friends call me Buck,” he tells Christopher with a wink, offering him a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Christopher.”

“Nice to meet you too, Buck,” Christopher says with a bashful smile as he fits his tiny hand in Buck’s to shake it.

Eddie clears his throat and there’s something inscrutable in his expression when Buck looks at him. “How about we show you to your room?”

~

[blueninjablade3]

Yandere Frollo Alphabet

Real quick for my regular readers who are waiting for the Hades Angst I’m working on it at a snails pace but it’s shaping up nicely. I’m publishing this solely because it’s been in my drafts taunting me.

TW: Yandere themes, Slurs/ talks about slurs, genocide, medieval torture, isolation, abuse, gaslight, lack of right, racism, and religious themes.

If you are uncomfortable with any of this scroll on. I won’t be offended. If you are in a bad mental state I don’t recommend reading this Yandere relationships are extremely toxic and dangerous. If you or someone you love are in an abusive relationship, please remember you have resources to help you. I believe I’ve covered most of my bases so without further ado Yandere Frollo alphabet. Ps, left a little music if anyone wants to listen to that while they read.

Affection: how do they show you love and affection? How intense can It get?

I view Frollo somewhat like “I never quite learned to verbalize my feelings so I’m going to do very small things to tell you I love you.” Also, he brings you grapes. It’s every day he brings you grapes. (Unless you’re getting punished.) He does do the traditional kiss-your-cheek and forehead tho.

Blood: How dirty is he willing to get when it comes to you?

He’s willing to burn down all of Paris to find you. You and Esmeralda are gonna be best friends and shit talk Frollo together.

Cruelty: how will they treat you once kidnapped will he mock you?

Yes. Wtf do you think I would say “No he’s an angel” Brother has no problem calling someone a slur. Hell, I’d put money on the fact that he’d call a black person the N word hard R to their face. (He’s seriously the worst tho. Get y’all a man like… uh Prince Naveen. He’ll treat you better)

Darling: besides kidnapping you would he do anything else against your will?

Being an active part of the Romani people’s slaughter, being horrible to Quasi, and whipping people are the ones that are off the top of my head. I’m probably missing others but the point is he absolutely would.

Exposed: How much of his heart do you bear?

I think you actually bear 40%. The other 60 goes to the Bible and Christ. Don’t worry that’s still more than his family ever got.

Fight: How would he feel if you fought back?

CHOOSE ME OR YOUR PYRE BE MINE OR YOU WILL BURN~! But in all seriousness, he’s going to be so upset and do the same thing that he does to Quasi.

Game: Is this a Game to them? Would he like watching his darling try to escape?

No! This isn’t a game! Those filthy gypsies can’t be trusted! (it feels wrong even typing that 😭) They’ll harm you! You need to stay safe. In the bell tower.

I also don’t think he’d enjoy you escaping. He wants you at arm’s length at all times.

Hell: Your worst experience with him.

After one of your little “stunts” he had you flogged for a few hours and then you didn’t get lunch for a few days. (like three)

Ideals: what he sees in the future with you.

He sees a traditional Christian marriage (pretend male x male relationships were most of the time accepted by the church), a couple of NORMAL kids (he is the worst), and all the Romani people dead. (ICK)

Jealousy: does he get jealous and if he does, does he find a way to cope or will he lash out?

He gets very jealous and never controls it. He always lashes out. At this point, don’t even look at a fly anymore. He’ll get jealous of it.

Kisses: How does he act around you?

He’s possessive, creepy, and lustful. Think about how he behaves with Esma and multiply by two.

Love letters: how would he go about courting/approaching you?

He’s very traditional. He’s the type who’d buy a goat to give to your dad and then just be like “Gimme.” But he would approach you beforehand and have some small talk in passing.

Mask: Are his truth colors different from what people think?

No. He’s very publicly creepy and weird it seems. People also fear him and view him as dangerous which you can say firsthand is true. Creepy bitch.

Naughty: how would he punish you?

He’s the type to flog you for a little, isolate you, and then limit food consumption. You’re extremely afraid of acting out or acting against him for fear of his reaction.

Oppression: what rights did he take away from you:

Freedom, religion (if you’re anything other than Roman Catholic you’ll have to practice and pray in secret.), privacy, and if you’re American the right to bear arms. Really any weapons he’ll take away. (Maybe see if you can hide a dagger?)

Regret: does he regret kidnapping you? Will he ever let you go?

Haha! You’re so funny if you think he’d let you go or think he’d regret kidnapping you! The Lord brought you two together! You two were meant to be! Now stop struggling unless you wanna go back to the palace of justice.

Sigma: what brought this side of him?

I think his lust, pride, and lack of getting any bitches over his years all contributed. He got lustful for you, and he didn’t know how to react, then instead of admitting that he was in the wrong his pride got the best of him, and blamed you. When his lust won caused his Yandere actions.

Tears: how would he feel if you cried screamed or Isolated yourself?

He doesn’t care! You’ll learn to love him eventually. If you don’t… you won’t like what’s gonna happen. But do go ahead.

Unique: is there anything different from a normal Yandere

He has a massive superiority complex? He also can have people flogged and not be questioned.

Vice: what can you use to escape him?

I’m not quite sure. I guess maybe you could hide in the court of miracles?

Witts end: would he ever hurt you

Without a second thought.

Xoanon: how much does he revere/worship you and to what extent is he willing to go to win you over

He’s willing to go to extreme lengths. I know I’ve talked a lot of shit about him in this but in all seriousness, he views you as a gift from the heavens. An angel sent to him. His angel.

Yearn: How long before he snapped and kidnapped you?

He’s a patient man. I’m going to say if you play your cards right and Quasi is still young about 1.5 years till he snaps.

Zenith: would he ever break you?

Oh definitely.

Thank you for reading! Please remember that rebloging, likes and comments are much appreciated! ❤️

[vavuska]

J. K. Rowling vs David Tennant: where is the truth and where the lies?

Probably everyone have read something about an unpopular opinion posted by J. K. Rowling on Twitter (cough, I mean X), where she decided to go after David Tennant. She claimed that during an interview Tennant was talking about whinging f**kers who need to just shut up. These whinging f**kers who he is referring to are women who’s rights are being oppressed, according to J. K. Rowling.

Unfortunately, Tennant didn't say anything against oppressed and abused women. Actually, Rowling is *again* pursuing her personal crusade claiming female-only = no trans-women. Tennant, after accepting an award, took the microphone and gave a speech about the state of LGBTQ+ rights in the UK, and the sad need for awards like the one he received (he was honored at the British LGBT Awards with Celebrity Ally award).

During the speech, Tennant also targeted UK Minister for Women and Equalities, Kemi Badenoch, who had previously said she would exclude trans-women from single-sex areas. Tennant said:

“I suppose if I’m honest I’m a little depressed by the fact that acknowledging that everyone has the right to be who they want to be and live their life how they want to live it as long as they’re not hurting anyone else should merit any kind of special or award or special mention because it’s common sense, isn’t it?” Tennant said in his speech. “It’s human decency. We shouldn’t live in a world where that is worth remarking on. However until we wake up and Kemi Badenoch doesn’t exist anymore — I don’t wish ill of her, I just wish her to shut up — whilst we do live in this world I am honoured to receive this.”

Tennant’s speech started a war of words with Badenoch, who later took to social media to say she would not shut up as the actor suggested. She went on to call Tennant “a rich, lefty, white male celebrity so blinded by ideology he can’t see the optics of attacking the only Black woman in government by calling publicly for my existence to end.”

Which, again, is a... Ehm... Lie, since Tennant didn't attack Minister Badenoch for her ethnicity or threatened her life. Tennant speech was critical of her position regarding trans rights and not her personal life. Tennant was calling out government bigots for their political opinions regarding social issues and not attacking anyone on personal basis and NEVER - NEVER said anything about institutional racism (which Minister Badenoch herself claimed it's not a problem in UK) and violence against women (both cis and trans) not being major problems.

In a separate red carpet interview on the awards ceremony, Tennant was asked to say something to the trans youth. He responded to don't feel judged or unloved, because transphobic politicians are just a little minority: “It's a tiny bunch of little whinging f**kers who are on the wrong side of history, and they’ll all go away soon.”

The whole interview is available under here and it's sweet and heartwarming:

As always, J. K. Rowling and conservative politicians are strumentalizing LGBTQ+ awareness contents to make the community and it's allies look like evil terrorists (“gender Taliban”) and therefore pursuing their anti-trans goals while also belittling abuse perpetrated on women in religious states and systemic racism. Since violence against women is overwhelmingly committed by cisgender men, why are the Tories blaming LGBTQ+ community and it's allies?

J. K. Rowling and Minister Badenoch demonstrated through their words, how danger narratives can be invoked not only to obscure (hetero) cis men’s violence and abuse against cis and trans women, but also justify violence against the whole LGBTQ + community in the holy name of (cis-hetero) women's safety. [Here my previous post about this]

[beesspacedotorg]

The Sky is Blue, the Grass is Green

Summary: You love your girlfriend more than anything else in the world. It's not hard, she's perfect for you. You'd give her everything she could ever want and more still.

Warning: SEX LESBIAN SEX WITH GIRLS AND LESBIANS. I will say that reader has a vagina as does lino. hits is because I wrote this while half asleep after not sleeping for 16 hours with a sore throat and forgot to write gender neutral reader. outside of the fact that the reader has one of those body type is not specified because :|. uh. spanking (sorry, I'm me) and mommy kink (me) and girls being in love with each other

notes: happy pride month. I've been listening to a lot of music by sapphics recently and it made me gay. Also I saw some loser say that Chappell Roan is the first queer person to publicly yearn for women and that is phenomenally untrue. Internet person who I've never met, this was written to spite you. Sorry for not making this more inclusive to women of all body types or to all lesbians regardless of gender. mayhaps I will write something for you soon. EXTRA NOTE: Moon Chaeyoung is not a kpop idol (to my knowledge) she is Cindy Moon aka Silk aka a Spider-Man. Chaeyoung is her Korean name. sorry for the slander, Cindy, I love you more than anything but I needed a name.

You’re going to make her your wife one day. You know this with the certainty that you know everything else. The sky is blue, the grass is green, you are going to marry Lee Minho. You’re staring at her, watching her make breakfast (that isn’t actually breakfast because you’re eating it at 2pm) in an old school shirt of yours and you can feel your love for her swell through your heart to be pumped through the rest of your body. You think that loving her is the most effective drug on the planet, that people wouldn’t need anything stronger than an ibuprofen because just spending a minute alone with her is enough to give you a high unlike any other. She turns around to plate the food and catches you staring, she always does, and it makes her ears blush crimson.

“Yah,” she says it softly, “take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Why would I need a picture when I have the real thing right in front of me?” Her ears turn a new, deeper shade of red and she avoids your gaze.

“You’re a charmer, you know that?”

“I have the most beautiful woman in the world in front of me and you want me to be normal about it?” You roll your eyes playfully, and reach for your cup to take a sip of your juice.

“No, you don’t,” she says, suddenly.

“‘No, I don’t’ what?”

“You don’t have the most beautiful woman in the world in front of you,” she hands you your plate - with no eggs because you can’t stand them, and no pork because it makes you sick, and french toast the way your dad used to make on lazy Sunday mornings - made with love and care just like everything else she does.

“You don’t have the most beautiful woman in the world in front of you,” she repeats, sitting down next to you with her breakfast that’s completely different from yours, “I do.”

-

“Minnie Mouse?” You just came from work, calling through the house to see if she’s home, too. You can tell from the aggravated sigh that comes from the living room that she is, indeed, home.

“You could literally call me anything else,” she’s wrestling Dori on her lap, the tabby always staunchly opposed to having his nails clipped.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You sit down beside her and take the clippers, letting her soothe and calm Dori while you make yourself his least favorite for the night. You’ll live. He’ll come begging for attention when Minho’s too busy being great at everything to give it to him.

“The fun is not having your girlfriend break your toes in your sleep.” You laugh at her and bring her Doongie, holding him instead because he doesn’t care about the whole process even a little bit and you want to pet his soft head.

“Did you know there’s nothing they can do for broken toes?”

“Really? Doongie, please stop wiggling so much.”

“Yeah, they kind of just say ‘good luck’ and kick you out before charging you one million dollars for breathing hospital air.”

“American healthcare really is something. How’d you learn that by the way?”

“My friend had an experience once. Also, it was mentioned in a video game.” She laughs, kissing Doongie’s forehead, then yours.

“Did you learn anything else in that video game?”

“I have incredibly poor hand-eye coordination.”

“I could’ve told you that.”

“What- what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Will you get a towel to wrap Soongie in, please?”

“Hey, wait. Hey! You can’t just say weird things and walk away!”

(“Can you really tell that I have poor hand-eye coordination?” You ask her this while she’s splayed out under you, two of your fingers knuckle deep in her sweet cunt while a thumb circles her clit.

“What?” She’s out of breath and her chest is heaving in a way that makes her tits look even hotter than normal. You almost lose your train of thought.

“Earlier. You said you can tell that I have poor hand-eye coordination.”

“Jesus- you stopped fucking me to ask me that?” One of her hands that was cradling your wrist goes up to her eyes to rub at them. “You’re something else.”

“Well! I just remembered it! Maybe I’m not doing a good job-”

“Stupid girl,” she’s got you on your back now, seemingly not caring about the orgasm she was approaching before you got distracted. “When have I ever not told you when I didn’t like something?”

“Uh. Never?”

“Exactly, so why do you think I’d start now? With this?” She gestures between the two of you and you look, stupidly, like you will see something other than your naked, sweaty body and her equally naked, equally sweaty, incredibly sexy body.

“That’s… that’s a great question.”

“I was just teasing, jagi. That’s all.” She kisses the side of your mouth and you can feel the way her lashes flutter along your cheek in a perfect butterfly kiss. Everything about her makes you fall deeper in love the longer you know her, even her stupidly long and perfect eyelashes.

“So, about my hand-eye coordination.” She drops her head to your shoulder with another curse and your hand comes up to play with her hair.

“It’s still bad, believe me. I don’t notice it when we have sex, though. You’re perfectly good with your hands, jagi.”

“The best?” She smiles, kisses you on the mouth this time.

“The best.”)

-

She’s got you in between her legs in the tub, her strong thighs thrown over yours so you can’t move while she aims the jet of the shower head directly on your clit. It’s almost too much, it always is, an unyielding wall of pressure that sends shocks of pleasure through your body in a way that makes you squirmy beyond belief. The first time you did this to yourself, you ended up with bruises on your back, the first time you did this with her, you almost elbowed her in the face. As it stands, she’s got her arms wrapped around you as best she can as you whine underneath her.

“I can’t, I can’t. ‘S too much, please.”

“Jagi,” she coos it right into your ear, “you haven’t even came yet. You keep tapping out before it gets good. Don’t you wanna come, baby?” You nod and she tilts her head out of the way so you don’t nail her in the jaw.

“I want to, but it’s so much.” She coos as you again as your legs scramble uselessly for purchase underneath hers. The tile is too slippery for you to do so, and Minho’s thighs are no joke. She’s danced for years and her gym routine is nothing to scoff at. You could spend hours writing sonnets about her legs if you weren’t so distracted.

“You can though, can’t you, kitty cat?” Your hand pats frantically at her arm until she gets the message to hold it in one of her own. “You can be good for me, right? You’ll come the way I want you to?”

The sound you let out in response to that is more of a cry than anything else, she shushes you and kisses your cheek sweetly like she isn’t the one overloading your nerves with sensation, like the isn’t the one unleashing as much water pressure as possible on the most sensitive part of your body. She shifts her grip just slightly, adjusts the angle and that has you lurching forward so fast you almost knock her over.

“Silly girl, don’t run.” She pulls you right back to her chest, boobs pressed against your back as she fixes the spray directly at the angle that had you reeling. “I always forget how squirmy you get when we do this.” She giggles, like she’s watching a silly cartoon.

“Mommy,” you can’t think enough to say anything intelligent, high, pitchy moans coming out in place of words. You want to answer her, to tell her you weren’t trying to run, that you will be a good girl for her. She’s trained you better than this, but you can’t say much else beyond her title, beyond her name. You hope she knows what you’re trying to tell her anyway.

“Oh, jagi.” Her voice is soft and sweet, but the way she’s pinning you is not. Neither is the way she’s forcing you to take what she gives you. “Mommy’s here, kitty cat. Mommy’s got you.”

“Mommy. Mommy.” You’re repeating it, over and over, too dumb to say anything else as you feel the overwhelming input you’ve been receiving crest higher and higher. She hums after each mention of her name like she understands what you’re saying. Hums like you’re one of the cats meowing at her for attention. You suppose she’s not too far off.

You cum with a near silent scream, breath halting in your chest in a way that used to concern Minho when it first happened. She doesn’t keep the water pressure going for too long after that, dropping the showerhead to replace the stream with her fingers to help you ride it out. She only loosens her grip when you slump back against her, loose limbed and dazed, muscles still twitching from how tightly they were tensed. She kisses the side of your face and very politely keeps her hands above your waistline while you calm down.

“You feel better?” She’s holding the shower head again, and giggles when you close your legs, simply holding it to the side so it doesn’t spray water all over the floor.

“Mhm. Thank you, mommy.”

“I’m glad. Let’s finish showering, yeah? Mommy will clean you up.”

 (You’re leaning heavily against her as she guides you to sit on the bed, grabbing your respective lotions and hair care products and turning to take care of you first. You whine at her.

“Let me do yours!” She raises an eyebrow.

“Keep your eyes open for more than thirty seconds and maybe I will.” You lift your hands and manually pry your eyelids apart. She bats at them until you stop.

“Ew, it’s so gross when you do that. Freak.”

“I miss five minutes ago when you were telling me I’m the love of your life.”

“Five minutes ago you weren’t being a little shit head.”

“False. I’m always a shit head.” She hums and grabs your chin, wiggling your head a little until you look at her.

“No, sometimes, you’re my sweet little girl.”

“Oh.” There’s absolutely no hiding the way you react to her when she talks to you like that and your hands fly to her hips as she lets go and leans back out of your personal space to grab the stuff to start your post-shower routine.

“Let me eat you out.” It’s sudden, and comes out of you in a rush.

“What?” She nearly drops the bottle of leave-in, ears turning red.

“Please? Please. I’ll get on my knees right now.” She scoffs.

“You’re falling asleep as we speak”

“No, I’m wide awake right now. Please let me, please.” She hums.

“Let me finish what I’m doing and if you’re still speaking in full sentences and not going crazy with sleep induced hysteria, I’ll let you.”

“Yippee!”

“If you fall asleep you can have what you want in the morning.”

“You’re the best, ever.”

“I’m aware.”

By the time she’s done taking care of the both of you, you are definitely not well enough to be doing anything. That doesn’t stop you from trying though, and you fall asleep with your head pillowed on one of Minho’s thighs. She has to readjust you so you don’t suffocate in her cunt. What a way to go.)

-

Minho is having a bad day today. It isn’t often she has those, generally unflappable to most things, but she’d gotten into a fight with one of her work friends and came home in a huff.

“I just don’t understand why she won’t listen to me!” She’s slamming things open and closed around the kitchen while you sit on the counter. She works around you as she always does and doesn’t slam anything if it’s less than two feet away from you.

“I know, she’s a bitch. You should report her to HR or something.”

“I should!”

“I’ll help you draft the email. I’m very good at sounding bitchy in a nice way.”

“You are!” She’s aggressively chopping vegetables next to you and you rest a hand on her shoulder.

“Be careful of your fingers, lovie.”

“I’m always careful.”

“Of course you are,” you’re unusually agreeable because it will do nothing but harm to work your girlfriend up when she’s already upset. Besides, of the two of you, you’re more clumsy, so it’s not like you have any legs to stand on. 

“Do you want solutions to what’s going on, or do you want me to keep calling your coworkers mean names?” It’s nice to ask people what kind of support they want, you learned. Minho is a coin toss, sometimes she wants an immediate solution, sometimes she wants to complain. You always do your best to meet her where she is.

“The second one, please.” She’s sauteeing something in the wok, and it smells delicious. You peer over her shoulder.

“Pause. Is that pancit?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re the love of my life.”

“Yes, yes,” you touch your pointer finger to the tip of an iron-hot ear as she speaks, “please call Moon Chaeyoung a cunt again, it’s funny.”

And so you do, going into detail about all the ways Moon Chaeyoung is inferior at her job compared to your girlfriend until she asks you for genuine help.

(“Is there anything else you need?” She’s laying with her head in your lap as you make tiny braids in her hair. Her eyes are closing and she hums as she thinks about it. You’ve already given her all the advice that you can, her only course of action now is to do it.

“Well. I can think of some things.” She turns her head to the side and shoves her face into your crotch like an animal. You swat her shoulder lightly.

“You’re a horn dog. Insatiable.” She turns her eyes to you, squinting them so her cat-like gaze shifts from playful to predatory.

“Which one of us woke the other up this morning because they couldn’t stop shoving their hands in their pants?” She sits up, leaning over you.

“I was dreaming!” You’re giggling, slipping under her arm and moving away.

“You kept going after I woke you up!” She stands up, throwing her arms in the air indignantly. You cross your arms in response.

“I was horny!” 

“That’s exactly my point.” She has her head in her hands so the words come out muffled. She grumbles something and lunges after you. You squeal and head towards your room.

“Yah! Get back here you little shit!” She lets out a huff as you throw a cat toy at her.

“I thought I was the love of your life!”

“That was before you decided to run from me- don’t you dare close that damn door-” The bedroom door clicks shut and the sound of your giggles is uncontrollable. You hear her walk away before the lock jiggles and her head pops through.

“Guess who?” You laugh again, heading towards the bed to throw more things at her, it does nothing to stop her. It’s not long before she has you pinned underneath her.

“Hi,” you smile at her, leaning up for a kiss.

“All that and all you want to say to me is ‘hi’?”

“Yeah.” She rolls her eyes and flips you over as you yelp in surprise. You’re about to start questioning her when a sharp sting lights up your ass.

“Ah- Minho! Hey!”

“Stop squirming. I’m not done yet.” There’s another smack over your pants before she pulls them down and her palm is connecting with skin.

“This isn’t fair! I didn’t even do anything!” You’re protesting while laying limply across her lap. She laughs at you.

“‘This isn’t fair’ she whines. Why is your pussy so wet then, hmm?” She spreads your legs a bit and lands a smack there too, snickering when your legs close reflexively on her hand. “Be a good girl, jagi. Take what you’re given.”)

-

It’s sunny when you ask her. The air is hot and humid and she’s wearing this dress that’s making your brain melt out of your ears. You’re having a picnic, because you can, and she’s talking about this show that she’s watching with Jisung.

“And then- and you’ll never fucking believe this- he goes ‘I could never court her’ and she overhears. If that happened to me I would literally explode.” You hum, shoving a heart shaped sandwich in her mouth while you look at her side profile. She’s beautiful, sharp nose and a round face. You want to live the rest of your life with her.

You’ve talked about it before, on hazy mornings when the rest of the world is just waking. In the middle of the night when the only sound is the hoot of owls and the buzz of crickets. At lunch, at dinner, at breakfast. In the shower, over the phone, through text messaging when you’re at work. You both are listed on the cat's vet information, something she changed a year into dating that she was nervous about telling you.

  “I don’t want you to feel pressured,” she’d said, “or like they’re your responsibility. I can take you off if you want, but I thought that if I was out of town or if something happened, you should be able to take care of them.” She’d been nervous, ears red with shame instead of the cute way they flush when you flirt with her. 

“Thank you, jagi.” You don’t often call her that, preferring to torture her with bad puns using the syllables of her name, so her breath catches in her throat.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course.”

She knows every order that you get from fast food restaurants, she hounded your parents for their chicken noodle soup recipe when you got sick one time. She learned how to make your grandma’s spaghetti sauce and let’s you call her mommy in bed because it makes you feel safe.

She’s everything to you and then some, so when you tap her shoulder and hold out the ring you bought, it’s as natural as breathing. A fact of life, an inevitability. The sky is blue, the grass is green, you are going to marry Lee Minho.

“He keeps friendzoning her. It's absolutely despicable, like, are you blind or something-” She turns her gaze to you and her eyes go wide. “You’re joking.” Her eyes are welling with tears, something that you hardly ever see.

“I’m as serious as a heart attack, baby. Will you be my wife? I promise if you say yes I’ll start helping you make the bed in the morning instead of laying on it and making your job harder.” She hugs you, knocking you back onto the blanket you’re sitting on. The movement tips over your cup of lemonade and you damn near lose the ring.

“Of course I will. And you most certainly will not help. But that’s okay, I love you even if you create weird bumps in my sheets and mess up my hard work not five seconds after it’s done.” She kisses your face all over, resembling more like an overexcited puppy than the cats she favors, and you grab her hand to slip the ring on it.

“I love you, Minho. I really do.”

“I can’t believe I get to marry the most beautiful girl in the world,” she says, looking down at her hand.

“You don’t,” you start, kissing her cheekbone. “You don’t get to marry the most beautiful girl in the world. I do.”

(“You know,” she starts as you’re packing up, “I was going to propose to you soon.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Absolutely I am not.” She fishes around the pocket of her dress before pulling out a ring.

“This is so funny. Can I still have it?”

“Of course, it’s yours,” she slips it onto your finger, face heating up to match her ears, “everything I have is yours. Everything and then some.”)

[lovebotmo]

like the movies

chapter four - the feathered visitor

series masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 1675

author's note: so so grateful that you guys are enjoying the story so far!!! its been incredible to be inspired and motivated when it comes to writing. i appreciate those who let me know they want to be on the taglist - lmk if anyone else wants to be added!!!

also if i missed someone my apologies!!! first time putting a tag list together hehe

song inspiration: how sweet it is (to be loved by you) by marvin gaye

Clambering into the compartment containing your friends after separating from Theo, you are greeted with expectant silence. Ten eyes peer at you with varying emotions; curiosity, caution, surprise, excitement, and intrigue all seem to swim in the faces of your dear friends.

Slapping your hands onto your knees, you smile nervously at them. “Well, what is it?”

“Don’t keep us waiting!” urges Hannah, who’s practically vibrating with excitement. “What was that all about? Running after Nott of all people.”

Your brows furrow unconsciously, “What d’you mean?”

Ginny laughs at your apparent confusion. “Nuh uh, Y/n. We all saw you go after Nott, no need to be coy now.” She winks cheekily at you. “Are you two seeing each other?”

You sputter at her brashness, “Me and Theo? There’s—”

“It’s Theo now, is it?” Padma asks. “When did he become Theo, eh?” Padma nudges your shoulder with her own.

“Oh, shove it, Pads!” You could practically feel the red rising in your face and neck at the undivided attention now being paid to your very short, tiny, essentially minimal interaction with a male specimen. You felt like a research subject whenever your friends interrogated you like this. “I was just worried Theo was going to miss the train—a very normal thing to be worried about considering he’s my potion partner and I bloody well can’t use his brain if he’s stranded in Hogsmeade! Besides,” you said, pulling at the sleeves of your wooly sweater, “that fight between Malfoy and him looked downright awful.” At that, the girls abruptly halted their aggressive probing, uneasily remembering the spat that had taken place very publicly in The Three Broomsticks. All, except for Luna, who continued to peer at you with that typical all-knowing, dreamy look of hers that seemed to suggest she knew better.

As if there’s anything going on between Theo and me. I barely know the guy…or almost barely know him…kind of know him?

Shaking the disorganized thoughts from your head, you turned to the girls to continue the conversation that had abruptly stopped at the tavern. A train ride filled with trolley sweets, gossip, and uncontrollable laughter soon led to your arrival at Hogwarts, just in time for the evening meal.

Retiring to your room shortly after dinner, you found that your housemates’ beds were empty. You guess that they were likely meandering around the grounds before curfew. You savored the silence and stillness of the room. However, all too soon, it was interrupted by an odd sort of sound.

Clink.

At first you ignored it, thinking something had just shifted in your room.

Clink…Clink.

This time, your eyes swept across the room, searching for whatever could be causing that sound. It didn’t sound like a water drip, someone in heels, or even coins moving around in a coin purse.

Clinkclinkclinkclink!

As the sound increased in volume and frequency, you realized it was coming from the window of all places, even though you were elevated relatively high in the tower containing your bedchamber. That is to say, no person could have been outside your room without the aid of a broom or the flying charm. You cursed under your breathe that the window was glazed, meaning you couldn’t see what lay on the other side. Undergoing a momentary crisis of whether you should open the window, you decided in a split-second to just open it and hope for the best. However, you made sure to grab your wand.

Can’t be too careful now, can we, Y/n?

Your hand grasped at the brass handle, quickly swinging the frame open. An autumnal evening gust of wind greeted you, along with something else.

What the fuck.

Perching on your windowsill, was a quaint tawny owl peering at you rather oddly. The bird cocked its brown and white feathered head as you did the same.

What the devil is a bloody owl doing up here? “I don’t suppose you intended to come up here, did you?” Looking at the owl, you noticed it was clutching something in its claws, a small parcel of sorts. “Is that for me?”

As if answering, the owl flew past you and landed on your desk. Its head cocked once more as if wondering whether you were going to join it or not. Realizing you were standing dumbly in front of the window and letting all the warm air out, you shut it. You did not lock it, however, anticipating that your feathered friend would be departing shortly.

You joined the owl at your desk, sitting in your chair. You were now eye level with the mysterious bird, its dark eyes gazing into your own.

“May I?” you inquired, gesturing towards the little package in its clutches. The fowl relented, gently releasing it onto the wood of your desk. Before allowing yourself to rip into the bundle, you pulled out a small cannister of crickets you kept in one of your desk drawers for when you visited your own owl in the aviary. Lightly placing it in front of the owl, you allowed it to treat itself while opening the unknown gift.

Inside, you found a small package of caramel creams, just like those you had gifted to Mr. Flume a few short hours ago.

“How…?” You looked to the bird who was still pleasing itself with your offering of crickets.

You couldn’t begin to wonder at who would have known to gift you that particular candy, who would have noticed your quick interaction among the thick throng of students that had filled Honeydukes earlier. No one had stood out to you in the little time you had spent in the candy store, wholly preoccupied with your candy exchange.

Where could they have even bought it from? It’s not like Mr. Flume even stocks this specific sweet, no matter how much I may beg the man to.

“You must have been flying for ages to bring these to me, I reckon.”

“Hoot.”

Laughing at the short, clipped response of the owl, your eyes noticed a small piece of parchment paper within the parcel. Grasping and opening it quickly, your eyes were met with the same script you had seen on the previous note that had accompanied the moly bouquet currently residing on your nightstand. Once more, the note was succinct and saccharine.

Y/n,

Sweets for you, sweetheart.

Yours,

Teddy

“Seems your owner fancies me,” you said to the owl as you carefully refolded the note. “I don’t suppose you would be able to give me a clue as to who they are?”

“Hoot.”

Sighing, you replied, “Alright, alright. I won’t badger you for answers.” You rose from your chair, intending to allow the plumed messenger to return to the aviary. The bird flew from its perch on your desk to your shoulder, its head gently rubbing against your cheek. You smiled at the little show of affection. Once more, you opened your window, allowing your avian visitor to rejoin the skies. Looking back at the caramel creams and clutching the note to your chest, a warm feeling began to leak out of your heart. Whoever your admirer was, he was rather…sweet.

A few caramel creams later, you were sprawled on your bed and surrounded by your friends as you recounted the entire rendezvous with the tawny owl. You shared the sweets among your friends, but you kept the contents of the note to yourself. Your friends had already seen the first note and none of them had recognized the handwriting. There was no harm done, really.

Besides, you thought, it’s kind of nice to keep something between just me and this elusive ‘Teddy.’

“You didn’t recognize the owl, did you?” asked Ginny. “Godric knows everybody can tell when I’ve sent an owl. That bloody bird, Errol, is hard to miss.” She gives you a vexed look that makes you chuckle.

“No, it looked like any other owl I’d have seen in the aviary. Anyway, there are hundreds of owls here, they’re not exactly easy to differentiate.”

“Well,” Padma says, “at the very least, we know that your little admirer is a third year or older.”

Hannah’s face shows her confusion, “How do you figure?”

“They were in Honeydukes, weren’t they?” Padma shrugs, “Whoever he is, he has to be, at minimum, thirteen years old to go to Hogsmeade.”  

Groaning, you flop back onto your bed, hands covering your face in dismay. “Blimey, I hadn’t even considered it might be someone younger than me. What if it is a third year? Fucking hell, I’ll never be able to live it down.”

Moving your hands from your face, Hermione smiles gently at you. “If it is a third year, which I seriously doubt, you’ll be gentle in letting them down. No big deal.”

“I’d be a laughingstock, ‘Mione,” you say grumpily.

“No, you won’t, Y/n,” replies Hannah. “Besides, it’s just the six of us that knows, right?”

“About that…” Ginny looks at you sheepishly. “I may or may not have possibly, accidentally let it slip when I was perhaps…potentially talking with Lavender…”

The redhead’s confession gets you to shoot up quickly from your horizontal position. “You did what?” You toss at a pillow at her, which, with her incredible athleticism, she easily intercepts. You frown. “Lavender is possibly the worst gossip I’ve ever met. I’d be surprised if Filch didn’t know about it.”

“It was an accident, promise!” Ginny exclaims, “Lavender asked if you were seeing anybody—I think she’s interested in Lee Jordan—so, I suppose she was trying to determine whether or not you were—”

“Ginny.”

“…Yes, Y/n?”

“I’m going to give you until the count of three.”

“Count of three—what for?”

“One.”

“Oh please, Y/n. I didn’t mean to—”

“Two.”

“For the love of Merlin—”

“Three.” At your last count, you sprint at the girl who starts to run from you as you chase her with your wand. She sharts to shriek with laughter, dashing as far from your incurrent wrath as possible.

“You’re going to get it, Weasley!”

taglist: @melllinaa, @randomgurl2326, @lovelyygirl8, @abaker74, @mypolicemanharryyy, @vanevafu, @laceandsuch, @agent-tempest, @themarauderswife7 & @adoraspace

[misasimagines]

happy birthday Jiro!!! conspiracy time.

Okay, I don’t have any fics or hcs for Jiro’s birthday, but I do have a theory. I don’t think Yuri actually wants Jiro to get healthier and might actually prefer it if he stays unhealthy and dependent on Yuri. Theory below! This is long... If I missed anything or got anything wrong or if anyone has additional information to submit, PLEASE!!! Share!!!!

I also wrote this frantically to post before midnight lmao please go easy on me...

To start, we should look into what we know about Yuri:

He’s a transfer from Frostheim for reasons that have left him on very very very bad terms with Jin and Frostheim as a whole. He’s referred to as having run away to hide in Mortkranken. Whether he is the friend who betrayed Jin or not, I can’t say, but it’s very possible he was involved in something that left Jin and co upset with him to the point of basically exiling him. 

He’s afraid of Romeo, so Sinostra is another out for him by default. Why is he afraid, again, I can’t say, but this leaves him without possible support from two big possible financial backers. Since he is very serious about the budget and how Mortkranken looks, this is a bad thing for him and one he is assuredly very aware of. Remember, Yuri is obsessed with his own legacy, his own image. Mortkranken’s success is Yuri’s success. Mortkranken looking poor and having no accolades reflects poorly on him and he cannot separate himself from this.

He can’t fight, either by choice or lack of ability, and relies on Jiro to protect him. This is something they both acknowledge and is a feature of the Mortkranken chapter. It makes sense, as his stigma is not particularly combat focused and he complains about exercise.

And he has no allies or friends currently, at least publicly. Everyone who references him does so with a bit of distaste or distance, and when he is trying to convince his own Mortkranken students to help him and the MC carry up the vat of acid, he has to bribe them. He cannot appeal to their loyalty to him as their captain, their respect, their friendship- no, he has to pay them to help him.

Mortkranken as a whole operates on a laissez-faire foundation, where Yuri isn’t even aware of what the gen admission students are researching or who is interning at Darkwick General. Within his own house, the one he is the captain of, he is still an outsider and isolated from his peers.

If you go through Yuri’s home screen lines, he refers to Jiro A LOT, and like… no one else. Dude can’t do anything without having Jiro do it for him or with him. Their dynamic is very much Yuri ordering Jiro around and Jiro obeying (with complaints here and there, but mostly he just goes through with it all). There’s even a suggestion that Jiro might be the most effective impulse control that Yuri has. After failing to cure the MC’s cure with his new ibuprofen knockoff, he wants to jump right into shooting her up with anomaly blood without acknowledging the danger this could put her in. Jiro has to comment that there’s no reason to do this hastily, as it could kill her. Only then does Yuri back down and seem to recognize he was being too impulsive in his desire to hide his perceived failure. 

From all of this, we can see that Yuri does have a vested interest in keeping Jiro by his side. Jiro is smart, strong, seems to have few qualms with putting himself in danger, and is pragmatic enough as to acknowledge that he needs Yuri to survive. Why would Yuri pick Jiro, though, if he could have reasonably recruited someone else to protect him or be his assistant? There are physically stronger and more healthy ghouls, like Alan, or he could have tried to bond with someone more amenable like Rui (however, it seems like Rui might not be the biggest Yuri fan…more on that later) Well…

Jiro also… He’s not completely clear about his memory issues: 

For someone who is so straightforward, this seems VERY unclear and peculiar to me. He doesn’t say he doesn’t remember, he says his memories are vague and that there’s no evidence either way. If he is a suspect or if he did commit the murder and he DOES remember, then here’s another way Yuri could buy his alliance: corroborate Jiro having amnesia as a symptom of his sickness, or even worse, cause amnesia. After the graveyard, inter-house mission chapter and Jiro’s reaction to the crying ghost child, it’s not unfounded to say Jiro himself might have wanted to get rid of unpleasant memories.

Also note that the Vagastrom student says “kid” from Ultio, and Jiro’s negative reaction is to a ghost child. 

Now that we have that out of the way, what are some reasons how Yuri would potentially keep Jiro unhealthy and therefore reliant on him? The voiceline that started this theory is Jiro’s affinity 22 home screen voice line:

I’m not a medical student or a doctor or particularly versed in any of this, but from a little bit of research, my understanding is that simple interrupted sutures are used on shallower, more surgical cuts and could potentially leave lasting marks, while deep dermal sutures are done on a deeper layer of the flesh, more effective on larger wounds, and are generally meant to be used with suture materials that can be absorbed by the body once the wound has closed. Given that Jiro is noted to not heal very well, and Yuri frequently has to redress his wounds, it seems like maybe the shallower stitches aren’t holding up. Additionally, it doesn’t look like Jiro’s wounds are all exclusively surgical. Let’s take a minute to look at Jiro shirtless for conspiracy reasons, not lust reasons (okay, maybe some lust reasons):

Most of the cuts on his back and arms look like claw marks. They’re more jagged, asymmetric, and inconsistent. The scar down his chest is pretty strange given the star shapes, so that’s likely related to Yuri’s surgical incisions, but that’s not what Yuri is treating here. He’s treating the claw marked shaped wounds. Jiro is also NOT stupid, so the fact that he’s suggesting this is not to be overlooked. Yuri chooses not to listen, maybe because it would be more effective, and then he’d rely on Yuri less.

Then there are these moments:

The first one is a blatant lie, as Jiro is the one who does most of the shot-administering. He does the MC’s checkups, including bloodwork and giving her the dosage of Yuri’s liquid tylenol. The only time he falters in this is when his illness acts up and makes him shaky. So no, he doesn’t have a lack of expertise that keeps him from administering his own shots unless there’s something currently unknown (or I’m missing).

For the second screenshot, this is during the conversation between Yuri and Jiro where Jiro has presumably come back from Frostheim and is lying or experiencing memory problems when relaying his whereabouts to Yuri. He’s experiencing what they refer to as “cyanosis” which is low oxygen in the blood, causing extremities to change color in purple/blue (something you can see on his hands in his Halloween look, so it’s likely a recurring or constant condition). 

Yuri gives him an adrenaline shot, which, again, not in the medical field, but this seems fine? Adrenaline would speed up his heart which would encourage blood and oxygen flow to his extremities which would likely help. 

Jiro then requests metoclopramide hydrochloride which is a medication taken by people with gastrointestinal issues generally related to diabetes and acid reflux. It’s supposed to help with nausea and vomiting, both symptoms that pop up a lot for him. If he was in a coma for a long time and admits to not being able to eat anything, then this request of his makes sense. His stomach lining and esophagus were likely damaged by intubation and stomach acid, and any related surgery or medication could only add to this damage. 

Yuri responds just by giving him a glucose shot instead which Jiro allows, but it seems like this would only work if he had low blood sugar and not a wealth of other issues that he definitely has. I’m sure low blood sugar is something he experiences as well due to his inability to eat anything, but I don’t see anything that says this would treat his nausea. Curious that Yuri might be intentionally leaving Jiro to experience negative side effects!

And then there is, ultimately, Jiro lying or having memory issues when he claims to have been to Obscuary but returns to Mortkranken with snowflakes in his hair and he’s borderline hypothermic. Jiro is very blunt and straightforward, which could lead you to believe he doesn’t lie, but I don’t think that’s necessarily the correct position to take. He’s smart, he’s crazy smart when it comes to the medical field to the point that he’s making major discoveries with little acknowledgment from himself because he sees them as minor. Anything that Yuri does to him that isn’t 100% going to help him heal? He knows. And who else knows?

Rui.

Rui can watch things going on without anyone knowing he’s there, and he just so happens to interrupt a conversation where Tohma is CLEARLY trying to use leading questions on the MC to get her to reveal some information that would implicate a Mortkranken student, likely Jiro, as being a suspect in whoever interrogated and potentially killed a Frostheim student. Rui shows up and gives him an alibi. Why? Not sure, I have no clue what Rui’s relationship is to Jiro or if this interaction was purely to spite Tohma or if it was in opposition to Yuri somehow, but it’s suspicious nonetheless how this plays out.

So, basically, I don’t trust that Yuri has Jiro’s best interests at heart. I don’t mean to say in any of this that Yuri is evil, but I think he’s afraid and he’s clinging to a method of preserving his safety and that method is Jiro. As long as Jiro is reliant upon Yuri for medical care, Yuri can throw him at his problems and use him as an assistant and bodyguard. I also really hope to see how Rui is involved, if at all, and I have a general vibe that Rui, reaper as he is, might be able to see and/or hear Zenji... But that's just a vibe, I don't have evidence for that one :)

[shotoyami]

Non-conformity

word count: 1.1k

pairing: Scott Sumers + male reader

warnings: none for this one! (unless gay panic is something that needs to be warned?)

genre: fluff

notes: Scott Summers is a bisexual man, that is my own personal headcannon. you cannot tell me that there wasn’t any tension at all between him, Jean, and Logan. I love my silly gay man, he’s just a little cutie patootie. please enjoy this first post of mine here, and I’m starting on my ask/requests as soon as this is posted! <3

additional note, I’ve already edited this post, so please let me know if I missed anything at all!

Scott has always been comfortable with his sexuality. There’s nothing to question, you know? He’s got it all, a pretty girlfriend (who’s becoming questionably close with Logan as of late, but there’s no need to be all possessive. He trusts her), good friends who support him in everything he does, a mentor who cares sincerely about him.

But then, what doesn’t he have? Well, a biological family, for starters. That was gone a long time ago, but it’s nothing to dwell on.

As of late, though, there’s just something different. Something just isn’t right. And he can’t even begin to place a finger on the exact cause of the sudden uneasiness.

Sure, it could just be Jean and her closeness with Logan (damnit Scott, you sound like an obsessive clingy boyfriend–) that’s causing this new feeling, but something tells him it just isn’t that.

No, this is completely different, and it’s so strange that it only seems to happen when–

“Good morning, Scott.” A voice cuts through his thoughts, causing Scott to glance up. There it is again, that funny feeling. He clears his throat, offering a small, sort of awkward smile toward the man in front of him. “Hey- uh…good morning, (y/n). How are you?” He cringes to himself– gosh, he sounded like such a dweeb.

The man dorkily grins back, chuckling at the brunette’s awkwardness, “I’m alright.” He glances back toward someone behind Scott, his grin faltering. Of course, this only makes said brunette more curious, and turns to glance over his shoulder. It’s like a sinking feeling, but is it as bad of a feeling as it should be? Jean is…kissing Logan. In front of everyone. He should be furious, shouting and cursing. But something tells him to be relieved. That he’s free.

“-Scott. Hey, you alright?” He snaps out of his thoughts, looking back at the man he’d been conversing with periously. “Yeah…yeah, I’m alright. I kind of figured that was coming sooner than later.” Scott winces internally, knowing he sounded too nonchalant. What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he so happy that Jean had publicly cheated on him and technically ended their relationship all at once? He notices (y/n)’s frown, one all too familiar– it’s one of pity. “Are you sure?” All he can do is nod. What else is there he could possibly say? Normally he’d be devastated, probably sobbing in his room to himself, but this isn’t normal. This isn’t a normal case. Not when all Scott can think about is the man in front of him and how much he wants to see him without that stupid oversized sweater–

Oh. Oh.

The realization slowly dawns upon him, the feeling starting to make more sense. Is he..? No, he can’t be gay. Scott’s only ever dated women. Women love Scott, and Scott loves women. But (y/n)’s a man.

It’s making his head spin– this made no sense, he’s never had any interest in men to this point, what’s different? What changed? Does (y/n) even like men? All of the women love him, so it’s not too far fetched to assume him straight, but in this day and age, isn’t that also offensive?

“Summers.” (y/n)’s voice cuts through his thought’s yet again, the man frowning still, now with his hands on Scott’s shoulders. “Are you hearing me right now? Maybe I should just walk you back to your dorm, I get it, this is a lot.” He gestures back toward the hallway that stretches between the vast amount of dorms within Xavier’s school and Scott finds himself eager to follow.

As they walk, the pair are thrown into a comfortable silence– er, well, comfortable on the outside. It’s awkward internally for Scott, trying to find something to say. How to voice his thoughts without being creepy. “Hey, (y/n)?” The named man hums in response, solidifying the obvious fact that he’s listening, and Scott continues, “Have you ever thought about…I don’t know, sexuality?” Scott cringes at how awkward he sounds, yet again, but he’s surprised to get a thoughtful hum in return. “Yeah, sexuality is weird. People are just so open, and it’s easier to make yourself open to ideas and thoughts, but at the same time, you don’t want to be too vulnerable and end up hurt. It’s a big tug of war that’s always staked against your favor.”

That’s…a rather interesting way to put it. “What about you in particular, (y/n)?” Scott can’t help but want to know more– no, he needs to know more. “Well, the easiest way to put it would be to just call myself queer and move on with it,” he jokes, grinning playfully before sighing as his voice comes down a pitch. “But, in particular, I’d probably label myself bisexual. You know, men and women and such.” He shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats. “Labels suck though. It shouldn’t have to have a name or make you different, everyone just wants to love and be loved equally.”

Scott finds himself melting at the thought, to live in a world where anyone could be anything and do anything– within reason, of course– but even he knows well that it’d never happen. Take all of them being outcast a mutants, for example. “What if I’ve been gay this entire time and never even gave it a thought..?” He mumbles, questioning himself and everything he’s known thus far. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” (y/n)’s response is reassuring, comforting. Scott can’t help it, he grabs (y/n)’s wrist– loosely, of course, in case it made the man uncomfortable. “...(y/n), I…I think you’re my gay awakening.” The man pauses, looking quite bewildered for a moment– to be expected though, this is all very sudden. However, he relaxes a bit afterward, a soft smile haunting his expression. “That’s not what I was expecting to hear from you at all today, Summers. Is this because of Jean, or is this legit? After all, your emotions are going to be pretty heightened after-”

Scott squeezes his hand, silently begging for (y/n) to stop reminding him, for now at least. “No, I’m serious. I guess everything with Jean just really solidified it for me. It’s not like I didn’t enjoy being with her- well, at least until that last part. But something about that never felt right, you know?”

“Is this your corny little gay confession?” (y/n) teases, though he’s being genuine, nont quite making fun of the brunette. Scott’s expression finally relaxes for the first time that day, no longer pensive or distant. 

“...yeah, I think it is.”

[dodje-melai]

Can we talk about how fucking sweet Hobie would be in a relationship?

He’d treat you so well every single moment he’s with you. He’d never treat you bad and would always make sure you feel appreciated and wanted.

You guys probably wouldn’t have an official title to your relationship because Hobie “doesn’t believe in labels” (he’s joking when he says that), but everyone who knows you knows that you two are basically dating. However, if it matters to you about putting a label on your relationship with him, he’d be totally cool with doing that. He wouldn’t mind you calling him your partner publicly, and he’d love to do the same with you.

“I don’t mind puttin’ a label on us, luv. Whateva makes ya happy.”

Hobie would treat you almost daily with handmade gifts, or gifts he bought from a small family-owned shop, or something he just stole from a corporate-owned store if it’s something you really really want. He’d also treat you by taking you out, mainly to cool places that he’s found while swinging around. He’d also take you out to concerts by either stealing tickets or sneaking you in.

“‘Ey doll, got us sum tickets to a band ya like.”

“What? Hobie, these tickets are crazy expensive! How the hell did you buy these?”

“I ain’t ever said I bought ‘em.”

And sometimes, if he thinks you’re tough enough for it and you’re willing to go, he’ll take you to riots with him. He’d hold your hand or your hip or just anywhere he can so that he doesn’t lose you in the crowd. He makes sure that nothing bad happens to you, which his spidey sense makes it easier for him to do so. Though if you were to somehow get hurt he’d feel guilty for letting that happen, and he’d patch you up and make sure you heal properly.

“Hobie, I’m fine. I just scraped my knee—“

“I don’t want ya gettin’ an infection, dove. The road’s dirty. Now quit squirmin’, I’m tryna disinfect it.”

Aside from gift giving and quality time, Hobie’s other love language is physical touch. He loves to hold you, kiss you, touch you, anything that involves being close to you. He’ll hold your hand or your hip while walking, and he’ll either hold your waist or slip his hand into your back pocket while you’re standing together. If you’re sitting, he’ll always have his hand on your thigh. Always. Sometimes he’ll even try to sit you on his lap if he wants to be extra close to you.

“Mm… c’mere babes, I wanna be closer to ya.”

“Hobie, I’m literally sitting on top of you. I can’t get any closer.”

“Yes ya can, you’re just not tryin’ hard enough.”

I think a very important aspect of being in a relationship with Hobie would be effective communication. Yes that’s important in all relationships, but it’s extremely important for him especially. He always wants to be aware of what’s too much for you so that he doesn’t cross any boundaries, and if he did, he wants you to feel comfortable enough to tell him what he did. He hates the thought of miscommunication ruining your relationship.

“Darlin’, I can tell somethin’ is wrong. Ya can tell me anythin’, ya know that yeah?”

Hobie is undoubtedly a very loyal partner. He would never even think of cheating on you. You’re practically his everything at this point. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost you; it doesn’t matter how he loses you, any way would be devastating. In turn, he trusts that you are very loyal too. He knows that you’d never cheat on him or flirt with someone else. Why would he date you if he didn’t trust you?

“Ya know I trust ya mo’ than anyone, yeah?”

Hobie doesn’t get jealous or overly possessive. He knows you’re his, there’s no need to consistently flaunt that. Besides, it’s fun watching you tell people that are flirting with you that you’re not single. But if some bastard wants to keep flirting with you after you’ve made it clear that you’re taken and uninterested, then he’ll step in and put that bastard in their place.

“Oi, fuck off mate. They ain’t interested in you.”

Something important about Hobie is that he’ll never lie to you. He keeps secrets, but if you find out about something and confront him about it, he’ll tell you the truth. Even if the secret you found out is that he’s Spider-Man.

“Hobie, this is a serious question, so I need you to tell me the truth. Are you really, genuinely Spider-Man?”

“Yep, I am. You’re a smart one, dove. How much snoopin’ have you been doin’ lately?”

“…I swear to god if you’re messing with me right now I will punt you.”

“Not jokin’. I’m a hundred percent serious, especially ‘bout ya bein’ very smart.”

Basically I think being his partner would be nice :)

[melpomenismask]

Vedic Astro Thought,

(Warning: i do not edit these and I will NOT be trying, so just read please lol.)

I’m starting to suspect serpent yonis need to stick together. As a girlie with a rohini mars chart ruler, and having learned about the myths surrounding rohini and mrigashira, that curse of attention for serpent yonis is genuinely unbearable. I thought it was a Venusian or Nodal condition, but neither of them have the sense of vulnerability and danger of a serpent yoni’s ability to intrigue and attract attention without even trying. Imagine you’re a snake in the park, enjoying the grass and nature, wanting to have a nice little day, maybe eat a mouse or two, who knows, you’ll figure it out. Then you slither into a family barbecue, and suddenly everyone’s screaming, trying to stomp you, etc, or maybe a small group of people find you and are fascinated, so fascinated they poke and prod you, maybe they’re a bit rougher, and you have to lie there because if you even react slightly they’ll attack because they’re afraid of you, and all the while you’re just a tiny little snake!

I thought of this because of Hidden Octave’s Rohini video on YouTube, which I absolutely relate to, but I felt a bit out of place because I’m not someone who’s actively courted or sought attention, it was inflicted on me by everyone around me. I was abused, bullied, attacked for no reason but grown adults, and object of peers sexual interest as a child, and it seemed like if I asserted myself even slightly, I was suddenly the most terrifying thing in the room when I’ve been “playing dead” the entire time. I’ve found this has made dating impossible for me because I am so traumatized by how people react to me that I can’t even be myself anymore (trying to get back to it though) because I now automatically doctor myself to NOT provoke, because all it brought is danger, drama, and mess.

I have also been the provocateur in cases though, not because I was desperate for attention, but because I took difficulty connecting as REAL potential because that person didn’t inflict all their reactions and fears that had onto me immediately until I sought them out further, then I realized I had just found a milder version of all the people who mistreated and misunderstood me before—but the one person that stuck with me as someone I genuinely felt a connection to was a fellow serpent yoni: our rohini mars conjuncted. The moment we met and it became even vague knowledge we had interest in each other, drama from everyone around us ensued and it bled into our already unformed but genuine connection because we were both victims of the same burden of the inherent ability to intrigue and provoke. Unfortunately the guy was also saturnian and lunar, so he was very internally unbalanced and I have had to move on for my own sake to find someone I deserve, because he has a long was to go before he realizes the drama isn’t a part of him, just a reaction to him. It’s hard to unlearn, but only another serpent yoni really gets it. You’re not even doing anything, and everyone seems to watch every move you make while also being repelled if you come too close.

Which brings me to my point. In America, there’s a famous couple from a sitcom called The Office; their names are Jim and Pam. The actor Jim was a national heartthrob in his heyday as the character and has went on the make pretty good movies, the actress for Pam pretty much did that show and nothing else really big happened for her, but she did well, but she hasn’t really moved on from the glory days from what people seem to say about her—even alleging that she’s a bit obsessed with Jim’s actor in real life to the point he had to publicly “shut her down”. Jim’s actor is a Rohini, Mrig, and Magha (hence his “glory”) guy, while Pam’s actor is Dhanishta, some Jupiter influences, but not that much serpentine energy, just a rohini mars. I find the lunar aspect of rohini so compelling because when that energy holds you, you’re genuinely in some different reality, but because of how that serpent yoni energy intoxicates you. Of course if you’re also serpentine, it also violently rubs salt into the wound of how hard it is to find someone you genuinely connect with, but hey, I digress, I swear I’m totally fine and not having an existential crisis about love right now.

I find it hilarious how that reactionary pattern just KEEPS happening in different octaves; apparently between them as cast members, then Jim’s actor as the heartthrob boy next door in love with the married girl (rohini and its love triangles), and the married girl stuck in a marriage that she is miserable and used as an ego crutch in. I mean, sure, Pam is great, but it wasn’t her longing, her clinging to something that just felt right that made the story so romantic, it was all Jim from the start keeping it alive, because if Pam didn’t luckily love him back that boy would’ve been stuck. He “moves on” in the show, and does it easily because he can, and he enjoys the company, but it doesn’t matter because it’s so empty. He’s so kind and loving for Pam because he feels safe and at home, but he can’t just sit around for a woman who turned him down, right, so the serpent has to find another place to hide in. He clicks well with anyone because that’s what serpent yonis do. We can react with you and mirror but that’s just because we’re conditioned that way because of how the world treats us from a young age, not because you’re special. And it’s hard to watch him try to move on when he so clearly just can’t detach—think of two serpents intertwined, that’s the way I think we serpent yoni types want to love. An eternal, safe, vitalizing embrace. Snakes are cold-blooded but they are creatures like the rest, but for some reason unbeknownst to it, the other creatures don’t seem to agree, and all the snake wants is to find a little home, hunt, and live in peace.

This ISN’T to say we don’t know what we’re doing when we’re doing it, but when we’re not doing anything, we’re still somehow “doing it”, specifically for Rohini because Lunar influence is rife with confusion and illusion. All you want is to be out of the darkness, to know that the shadows aren’t scary, that you can come out too and be yourself in all your snake-ness, but it never seems to be over, the curse of attention, and the madness just seems to follow you. Whether it’s from the world or the budding madness in yourself from never finding solid ground to just see everything clearly for a moment and make sense of things. It’s a hellish trap of constant reaction (which I personally hate, hence why I consider it hell).

I was also surprised by the YouTube comments and the intense shift in sentiment around Jim and Pam from the show. It used to be THE dream romance, people wanted their own Jim, people wanted their own Pam, people wanted to be Jim and Pam. NOW, people seem to hate them. Now they’re pretentious, uppity, the worst ones out of the show for their light transgressions while all the insane people are still acceptable to make space for. They’re literally just the “normal” characters in a sitcom with a sweet love story, and people lose their fucking MINDS about them, when they are literally not even that special. They just love each other deeply, and that simple truth creates a labyrinth of envy and intrigue, and I see that pattern for rohinis and serpent natives often. They are just themselves, it’s very nice, and no can seem to handle it normally.

Jim and Pam are sweet. Jim is sweet with normal human character flaws, but it seems everyone (even in the show lol, go watch) is hellbent on making him something more provocative, chaotic or malicious than he actually is, which is just extremely rohini. Hi, Norma, hi, Marilyn. We never get a break until it kills us or we find our “charmer” we can trust and love without fear of the curse rearing its ugly head again. Sometimes it just kills us.

In my opinion, serpents need their snake charmer, who can dance with them without fearing their differences, or a fellow serpent. Considering the state of humanity right now—maybe look for fellow snakes instead of a magical “charmer”, someone “normal” and grounded like Pam is for Jim in that example, or like the non-flashy guys Marilyn Monroe married. We want to be seem and understood, but I think we can only understand each other. If you’re a serpent yoni maybe keep out an eye for people with that nakshatra energy in their chart, because they won’t be as oddly disturbed and provoked by you like the others probably are. It’s hard enough out there, so use cheat codes. Life is shit and we make it better out of luck, faith and perseverance. And love, of course. 🥰

From a friend. :)

[bouncybongfairy]

hi i cant get enough so ,, how would atla jet's first kiss go? and reader is someone who he thinks is superior to him and since jet comes off a bit awkward, reader tries to guide and teach him how to kiss

basically its js jet head over heels

First Kiss

Jett (atla) x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: You teach Jet how to kiss.

Word Count: 1.0k+

TW: NSFW Content, Dry Humping, Fluff

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Jet invited you to your usual hang-out spot tonight. You’d started seeing him a couple months ago and you really like him. Most guys give up the ‘i’M sO sWeEt, I LiKe yOuR pErsOnAliTy’ facade after a while but he was maintaining it well. Always hyping you up even when you felt like a slob. You also liked how he was so open about his hate for the fire nation. Like many people in your Earth kingdom, Fire Lord Ozai has torn your family apart. Your mother lives in dread and will never say anything negative about him out of fear. 

He was the only person who ever praised you on how brave it was to speak against them publicly. Jet shared the same hate towards the nation that caused both your families so much trauma. This created a deep bond between the two of you. The tension had been running high the past couple times you saw him. Maybe it was all in your head but you’d like to think it was a shared feeling. The way you’d catch him staring with a smile on his face, trying to play it off like he was looking at something behind you. He was standing at the tree you normally meet. 

You hugged him like you normally did, getting on your tippy toes and wrapping your arms around his neck. He chuckled into your ear and picked you up just a little. You practically melted in his arms, not letting go until after he set you down. Once the two of you started talking, you didn’t bother going anywhere else. Simply sitting down at the tree and talking to each other about anything and everything. The conversation eventually grew stale, running out of topics. This seemed like a perfect time to shoot your shot. 

“Maybe this is uh- only on my end but I really like you, a lot,” you laugh nervously looking down until he responds. 

“No, I’m glad you brought it up because I don’t know if I would have had the courage to tell you that like you back,” he laughed, grabbing your hand. 

“But can you actually tell me why you like me without mentioning any of my physical attributes?” you asked. 

“Yeah: you’re really fucking funny and you don’t mindlessly agree with people to make small talk. You speak with purpose. That doesn’t mean I can’t also like you for the way you cock your eyebrow anytime someone says something stupid. Or how perfect your lips look when you’re trying to hide your smile,” you said, which obviously made you smile.

“Just like that,” he laughed. 

“Can I kiss you?” you blurted out, not being able to take the tension anymore. 

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” he explained nervously. 

“Let me teach you- or, can I kiss you?” you stumble over yours, trying hard not to make him feel pressured or uncomfortable. 

“Yeah, I’m just nervous but I hope it’s not coming off as like- that I don’t want to,” he said. 

Seeing that he was so nervous was endearing to you. The fact that he thought the moment he was too special to mess up made you feel valued. You leaned in and closed the gap between each other. His lips were soft and melted into yours. Brining one of his hands up and cupping your face. It didn’t take long for him to get the hang of things. Becoming more confident and swiping his tongue along your bottom lip. 

Deciding to match his energy, you move yourself into his lap. Now you were holding his face, running your thumbs across his cheeks. Your heart felt like it was racing so fast, it could burst. A warm feeling spreads across your entire body. Both of you were breathing hard against each other's skin. His hands trailed down, running his fingers up and down your hips. Tracing the waistband of your pants, his calloused fingertips making your back arch. He adjusted his hips, allowing you to sit on his lap instead of hovering. 

He groaned into your mouth as his erection brushed against you. Running your hands through his hair as you started rocking your hips against him. The kiss was getting more sloppy; your lips were becoming raw and swollen from the constant nipping and sucking. You pulled back, allowing each other to catch your breath.

Keeping your lips pressed against each other as you focus more on grinding. He was starting to buck his hips up against you, which made you moan quietly against his mouth. Reconnecting your lips and sucking his bottom one into your mouth. Pulling back and letting it go with a loud -pop- sound. Making both of you chuckle, breaking the intensity between each other. He pressed his forehead against your, unable to wipe away his smirk. 

“Was that okay?” he asked, needing reassurance. 

“More than okay, I’m finding it hard to believe it was your first kiss,” you laughed, moving the hair out of his eyes. 

“Okay now you’re just trying to hype me up,” he rolled his eyes. 

You ended up staying in his lap and talked for a while. Despite the fact that it was his first kiss, it didn’t make things awkward after. If anything, you felt like it made him more comfortable with being vulnerable during the conversation. You ran your finger down the bridge of his nose and eyebrows as he talked. Hiding the fact that it amused you when he stumbled over his words. Every now and then you’d interrupted him by melting your mouth against his. 

Going further than a peck and working your lips together for a couple seconds. Laughing because you had to remind him of what he was talking about. After a while he walked you home, hand in hand of course. The entire time he was blushing, biting the inside of his lip; stopping himself from smiling like an idiot. He walked you all the way to the door and kissed your cheek before parting ways.

[moronkyne]

I updated my Seer 101.

Bare with me here

Basic Seer Facts;

- Seers can be latents or human born

- Sight can not be learned. Either you are born with the ability to see the future or you can’t at all. Not even demons can use this magic

- Foresight is inseparable from the magical core, only way to get rid of the foresight is to cut threads of power (removing all magic)

- They can use any sort of magic (like freelancers—yet all sorts of magic seem to come easier to seers)

- All Seers are sunbound

- Seers can in fact not be turned into vampires

- They can *easily hide* their cores cleverly from any other race

- The magical race (Yk, seers) are very, very rare.

- Specific things like stress or caffeine and trigger their sight powers. Really, depends on who you are. It varies.

- Choose not to use your sight and your powers will build up in pressure, involuntarily releasing as sight magic. Like a valve. You can open it, or it can burst itself

- Involuntary sight is pretty disorienting, lowkey feels like derealization if I were to have a say in it

- Can control the length, depth, and pretty much anything else out of sight. It’s at the control of the holder as long as they *know* how to control it

Important must knows;

- Although Seers can “*see the future*”, they ACTUALLY only see the variables in the situation. It’s like mathematics and quantity. Probability machines. NOT SET IN STONE. Nothing is confirmed because factors within the sight can be *obscured*. Ex; people, places, situations, etc

- E’laetum had been looking to find a solution to vampires and boom here we have seers (I’ll. Figure out how to write this soon)

- The last Seer that the department had record of was *waaay* back in the early 1800s. Morgan and his listener are the only two recorded Seer Obscura in their century that have come forward about it. It’s likely that they are the definite only two.

- The inversion shifted the timeline (within dahlia, I’m imagining) in all. Everything seen about the future that was sought after before the events of the inversion became invalid because of the part that death played in the situation. (And death is…obscured oddly. I think it has something to do with the river but I may be reading this wrong. I’ll figure it out)

Other;

- Morgan’s listener (The one which fandom has just deemed “Seer Obscura”) hid their core and covered it with an aura of an illusory (another empowerment.) This means that nobody (**besides** other seers) knew they were a seer. All seers tend to be talented at this.

- I’m sure that we all know that Blake ALSO hid his aura/core thingy. As a dream walker—To which he was able to “prove” because he was able to use dreamwalker magic. (Seers can use any sort of magic (like freelancers—yet all sorts of magic seem to come easier to seers)

Obscura and Obscured;

- It’s hard to see any (if any at all, which is said to be impossible) future that an Obscura is in. Their presence obscures and deforms the way seers use their powers. The closer you come to the obscured factor within your vision, the more static it becomes. It doesn’t completely block out, yet deranges it.

- There are places/actions that are obscured as well, which means not only people. For example: death & Aria itself.

- Any race of empowered beings can be Obscuras, actually. The title of obscura only means that your presence interferes with the timeline/sight. For all we know, someone like David could be an Obscura.

- Erik confirmed that d(a)emons themselves are not always obscured, only Aria.

The Soldality:

What is The Soldality? A group of seers who live publicly known for the race that they are, which is rare because seers tend to be in hiding. They are protected by the department. They all watch the time streams and predict what the future would be. Most of them believe that there is a certain known outcome.

- The “known outcome” does not take account of those places and people who are obscured, making this group invalid in plenty of ways.

- Morgan himself is apart of the Soldality yet seems to have his doubts about it.

[daechwitatamic]

Of Ruin: Chapter 10 || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

//

Section Warnings: injury / a shoulder being popped back in mentioned VERY briefly, language, fire, dangerous situations, tense situations with dangerous vampires wc: 5.2k

It takes you days to recover, and you piece together what happened bit by bit.

The curse had fought back - you’d known that as it was happening. It had climbed into you through the magical connection, like a thing alive, ready to corrupt whatever it touched.

Prince Taehyung, like you, had been paralyzed by the magic at work, had been unable to do anything but watch as your eyes rolled back, as your lungs stopped taking in air, as your heart - that he could always hear loud and clear from rooms away - stuttered and gasped nearly to a stop.

You were mostly gone when Namjoon sprang into action and saved your life. He borrowed, used a death-magic spell he knew to sever the connection.

You’d hit the ground hard enough to dislocate your shoulder, apparently. The King and Queen had wanted to bring you to the Elders for healing, but Taehyung had argued, insisting that it was too risky to bring you through the palace to them, too risky to let them know you were even here.

“I can tend to her,” he’d said hotly, according to Namjoon’s recounting of events. “I can heal as well as any of those ancient dustbags.”

The first time you’d woken, in that luxurious bed, you’d been in Prince Taehyung’s own chambers.

Dansoo had been the one to set your shoulder right, stone-faced and unflinching when you’d screamed at the white-hot pain. In the darkness following that incident, you were sure you felt someone brush their hand over your head, soothing, but when you woke again you were in your own bed, alone again.

For a few days, you’re in and out. You start to stay awake longer, and you start asking questions about what had happened. It’s Namjoon who gives you answers, sitting on a wooden chair a few feet from your bed.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” you grumble. You woke up nearly six hours ago and you don’t feel the heavy darkness lingering at your edges - you think you’ll stay awake, this time.

“I have nothing else to do,” he jokes. “Can’t leave. Can’t take a walk. Can’t even work, since we need to reassess after that last attempt.”

“Has anything new happened with the families?” you ask quietly. You hadn’t told Namjoon what Prince Taehyung had admitted to you in his room - that the accusations were true. You vow to find a good time, when you aren’t likely to be overheard or interrupted.

He waves his head around, indicating sort of. “Satuel says that the Scores haven’t been to the palace since they made the official accusation. The Cleaves have thinned out considerably too, and another family. The Scores also publicly declared that if the royal family didn’t answer to the accusations, they’d be openly inviting further action.”

“Further action,” you parrot, stomach sinking. “Meaning, what? A trial? Violence? Protests?”

“I’m not sure,” Namjoon says, shaking his head. “But things are very tense out there. As soon as you’re well enough, we need to reconvene and decide our next steps. We need to get out of here.”

You hum in mild agreement. Namjoon’s gaze sharpens knowingly. 

“I know you might not want to leave… considering everything between you and the prince.”

He says this perfectly evenly, carefully to keep anything accusatory out of his voice. 

You don’t answer, trying to keep your face blank. It wasn’t a question, so you don’t have to answer it. 

Besides, it sounds like he already knows.

Namjoon shifts, presses his lips together. “We should focus on the curse,” he says finally. “Everything else… there’ll be time for that, after.”

“Not if we die,” you mutter, but there’s no heat behind it.

Namjoon smiles at you wanly, and you wave a hand at him, dismissing your silly thoughts. “Okay,” you cave. “Go get the papers. I can work from bed. Let’s figure out what went wrong.”

—

Prince Taehyung comes to see you that evening.

He smiles big when he sees you sitting up on the couch in the main room. “You’re up?” he asks, though the answer is obvious.

“I think I’ve turned a corner,” you say. “I just feel… kind of weak.”

“Days in bed will do that,” he points out. “In addition to what the magic did. You should walk around the room when you can. I’m sorry that I can’t take you out to the sea… it’s too dangerous. Things are… quite complicated right now.”

“I know,” you say, then wonder if you shouldn’t have.

He grimaces. “You’re safe in your rooms,” he promises. “This will hopefully be over soon. We’re working on it.”

You nod, not sure what you can really add at this point. You’re afraid to say the wrong thing.

He glances at all the papers on your table. “Were you working?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, glad for the change of subject. “We have a few theories about what went wrong, and two more options for countercurses that we can try.”

Prince Taehyung frowns. “I don’t think -”

“We have to try again,” you say, speaking right over him. He looks surprised; probably he doesn’t get interrupted much. “We have no choice.”

“Rest a few more days,” he implores. There’s something in his face, something in his tone, that you don’t want to look at too closely. It makes you think about him pressing your hand to his lips, and you don’t want to think about that.

“Two days,” you say firmly. It’ll give you time to get your strength back, to walk around your rooms until you can do so without needing to sit down. “Two days, and then we need to try again.”

He smiles sideways at you, something sly in it. “I’m not used to being given orders,” he admits.

You’re not sure if you’re meant to be sorry. You’re not.

“Two days,” you repeat. “Then we try again.”

He sighs, seeming to give in. “Is there anything we can do to make it safer?” he asks plaintively, turning to include Namjoon in this missive.

Namjoon shakes his head regretfully. “Unfortunately… not really. Magic is always risky. The death-magic involved in your curse makes it even moreso.”

“We have no choice,” you say firmly. “It has to be done.”

Prince Taehyung looks at you and your breath catches in your throat. It’s mournful. It’s protective. You can read all over him how badly he wants to remove the danger for you.

Like his lips on the back of your hand, you don’t know what it means.

“Alright then,” he says, finally. “In two days. We’ll try again.”

When he leaves, you collapse backwards into the back of the couch, groaning loudly and dramatically.

“Focus on the curse,” Namjoon repeats, although you didn’t ask him.

How can you? How can you when the prince is looking at you like that, like he wants to step between you and every scary thing?

How can you, when you know that once the curse is broken you’ll go back to your mortal, human life - and never see Prince Taehyung again?

That brings a thought that scares you - more than any Infracti ever could. Once, you’d been nervous that you’d struggle to break the curse, that you’d fail to save the prince. Now, you fear that you’ll cure him in no time, go home to your mundane, academic life, and spend the rest of your years wondering what any of this meant - if any of it meant anything.

If there’s anything you hate, it’s unanswered questions.

Sulkily, you tell Namjoon goodnight and head into your rooms. You’re too weak, still, to really practice, but you read spells and try to memorize their purpose until you fall asleep with the book open on your stomach.

—

You awaken to a shout, which becomes a series of shouts. You hear - through the walls - your main door slam and you jolt upright, hands scrambling as you try to orient yourself. You barely have your eyes open when Satuel bursts through your bedroom door, black eyes wide and wild.

“Fire,” she gasps. “Hurry.”

Your body follows directions even as your mind scrambles to catch up. “What?” you utter, as your feet find the cold floor, as they follow her into your main rooms where she hurries to throw open Namjoon’s door as well, calling the same to him.

“Fire, where? Where do we go?”

Satuel herds you and Namjoon like sleepy sheep, pushing you towards the door. “There’s a safe room beneath the palace,” she explains. “You’ll go there, with the royal family. We need to hurry, it’s spreading quickly.”

You have a million questions, and you open your mouth to ask the first one when you catch sight of the dancing shadows at the far end of the corridor. Something is off, something isn’t right.

You look at Satuel, eyes wide.

“It’s -”

“Magic,” she says curtly. “And we’ll fight it with magic, but first we need to get you to the King and Queen in the safe room. Come!”

You start to follow, Namjoon steady beside you, when you freeze. “The King and Queen,” you echo, and Namjoon turns to look at you incredulously, as if he can’t believe you aren’t sprinting to safety right now. “What about Prince Taehyung?”

You can smell it, now - acrid, smarting the inside of your nose.

You don’t move.

Satuel huffs, like she can’t believe you either. “A team is working on getting him to safety, too,” she says roughly, eyes on the flames at the end of the hall. “Now, come, or I’ll let you burn up here, curse-breaker.”

You don’t believe the threat.

“He won’t go,” you say stubbornly. “If the curse is active, all he can think about is hunting, he won’t even know that there’s danger.”

“We’re working on it!” Satuel retorts, and starts walking again, clearly done with your shit. Namjoon shoots you a pleading look and follows.

The corridor has darkened, though you didn’t notice it happening. Your chest feels tight, but you have no urge to cough - the effect of magical flames, not mortals’ fire.

“He wants to hunt,” you repeat emphatically. “If he smells me, he’ll follow.”

“No,” Namjoon says firmly, louder than you’ve ever heard him. “Y/N, we need you, you’re not bait -”

“Send me with a fucking battalion, then,” you snap. “I can do it, I can keep him far enough away that he only follows -”

You’re walking and arguing, Satuel looking like she’s a nanosecond from just grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you out of there.

“I can!” you insist, and then you prove it, throwing your hands at Namjoon’s feet and sending up an invisible wall that sends him stumbling backward. You do it again, and again, advancing on him, sending him skittering away from the magic he can’t see. Then you turn, plaintively, to Satuel.

“Let me help,” you beg. “He’ll follow my scent, I know he will.”

—

There are eight Infracti in front of you, but only one faces you. Seven - including Satuel - stand between you and him, ready to try and hold him back if your magic fails. Ready to herd him into a safe room of his own if you don’t fail.

One thing is immediately, glaringly obvious - being hunted by an Infracti with his senses, as you had in the turret library, is nothing like being hunted by someone with no control.

Prince Taehyung stalks toward you on featherlight feet as you walk backwards, using magic to put up a new invisible wall every few feet. Your legs feel like jelly - you’re still weak from your days in bed - and Satuel supports you from behind, practically holding you up, and steering you around corners as needed.

He doesn’t even look like himself. The way he holds his limbs is animalistic, fractured and robotic by human standards. His face even looks different, cheeks hollow, fangs displayed. And his eyes, for the first time since you arrived, swirl fathomless black. Blacker than ink. Blacker than ravens’ wings. Blacker than death.

Ancient syllables drip from his mouth like the crunching of bones, doubling in volume each time he hits one of your walls and stutters to a stop, mystified and angry that he can’t seem to reach his prey.

“That’s it, steady,” Satuel tells you, low. Your hands shake - from exertion, from adrenaline, from terror, all. But you push them again, sending up another wall.

Satuel steers you around the corner and the prince follows, hunched, scurrying when he can, stopping suddenly when your magic demands it. When he turns the corner and catches sight of you again, he gnashes his teeth at you, fangs first, snarling - more pissed off than hungry by this point.

“I know,” you whisper, watching his black eyes shine with fury. “I know you’re mad.”

He snarls back something guttural as he advances.

Another few steps, another wall. The beast closes the gap, low growls reverberating off the stone walls around him. Another step. Another wall. His eyes never leave yours, his lip curled so far back it must hurt, his fangs shining with spit and venom in the low light of the corridor.

It’s tenuous, because you know how badly this could go if you make one mistake - one misplaced step, one hesitation on your spell-casting. You move carefully, calculating everything.

“We’re just at the door,” Satuel tells you. “You’ll go in, we’ll herd him to the side, then you put up one last wall and run. You have to really run, do you understand?”

“Yeah,” you say, and you make the mistake of glancing back towards her as you do.

You weren’t the only one calculating the rhythm of the spells.

The monster takes your moment of distraction and darts - inhuman speed, nearly a blur, straight towards you.

You don’t think, don’t have time to think. You just react - throwing your hands up, shouting a spell.

No wall flies up to save you.

Instead, he is frozen, mid-stride, one foot still in the air.

Satuel breathes a word behind you; you think it’s an archaic Infracti swear word.

You hold your hands up, focusing on keeping the magic steadily working, focusing on keeping him there. You breathe, adrenaline singing through your body, the only thing holding you up.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. You don’t know if he can even understand you. You know he won’t remember, even if he can.

“Keep him there,” Satuel says sharply, suddenly right behind you. “Can you hold him?”

“Uh-huh,” you grunt, because you can’t articulate much else while you focus on what you’re doing.

Guards move at Satuel’s orders, closing in to take him by the arms. His body follows their guidance as if they’re pushing him through water. You push magic as hard as you can, terrified of what would happen if you stopped. Your hands still shake wildly; your legs feel wobbly beneath you. The guards lead him, one slow step at a time, through the open doorway Satuel had told you was there.

When they have him through the doorway, one guard moves to close the door. As he does, the magic drops from you like water from a pail, slapping to the ground with a splash, leaving emptiness in its place.

You can see, through the narrowing crack of the closing door, that he starts fighting his guards immediately, thrashing, his frenzied growls louder even than they were when he was hunting you.

The door closes.

You sink to your knees.

—

Satuel has to carry you to the safe rooms; you’d feel bad about it if you didn’t know that you weigh practically nothing to her.

She sets you down once you’re inside, though you wobble a little.

“There are rooms here,” she tells you. “I can understand if you’re unable to sleep, but you should at least rest.”

You don’t even want to argue. You’ve never felt so absolutely, down-to-the-bone exhausted in your whole life.

The King and Queen are seated at a long table, drinking something that could be wine, or could be blood-based, from crystal goblets. You don’t look too closely.

The Queen stands as you pass. You keep walking, barely glancing at her. After everything that’s happened here, up to and including the accusations the other court families have been making, you want less and less to do with Prince Taehyung’s parents.

“Thank you,” she says, and it startles you so much that you slip out of your focused disinterest, and you look at her. She continues, “Thank you for putting yourself in danger to save my son.”

You look at her evenly. You’re so tired, crashing after spiking adrenaline, still weak from the failed curse-breaking that tried to kill you.

“I’ve done that every minute that I’ve been here,” you remind her coldly. Then you continue on, towards the dark, quiet room that Satuel has promised you.

—

You’re awakened by Taehyung bellowing. You lay there, eyes still closed, and listen to him yell. For some reason, a smile plays on your face.

You knew he’d be furious about the choice you made.

You do not give a shit.

It occurs to you that he might be yelling at Satuel, and this thought drives you to roll out of the bed and make your way to the main room so you can defend her.

It seems Namjoon was also awakened, because you meet him in the hallway.

“You’re alive, huh?” he mutters, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Takes more than a cursed Infracti to kill me,” you joke.

“Don’t get cocky,” he warns. “Next time might not have the same outcome.”

“You seem sure there’ll be a next time.”

“We’re here, aren’t we?”

As you step into the room, Prince Taehyung wheels around on the two of you.

“And you!” he yells, just continuing whatever line of shouting you’d apparently missed. This seems to be directed at Namjoon more than you, and you inch sideways away from the line of fire.

Prince Taehyung’s eyes, irises white like a human’s, flash with fury, even more than they had last night.

“How could you let her do something so stupid?” he demands.

Namjoon holds up a finger. “I was afraid if I spent longer arguing with her, we’d both burn alive.”

You cough to cover a laugh.

Taehyung isn’t having it. “She could have died,” he says, startlingly quiet after the shouting. “She almost did, from what I hear.”

“I was fine,” you protest, but Namjoon narrows his eyes and puffs his chest.

“At the end of the day, your Highness, she’s my boss. And she’s a powerful witch - more powerful than she realizes. If she tells me she can handle a situation, I believe her. You should, too.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrow, too. “I almost killed her,” he says, even more quiet, like the rattle of a deadly snake. “Is that something any of you were ready to have on your conscience? Because I certainly don’t want it on mine.”

“I was fine!” you try again, louder. “Taehyung, I had it under control! You never got closer than three feet - and if I hadn’t lead you to the safe room -”

“Don’t think I’m ungrateful,” he interrupts, intently. Like he needs you to know. “Of course I am. But next time, God, use someone else as bait.”

“Namjoon next time,” you agree easily, nodding.

Namjoon kicks you in the calf.

You almost go down, legs still mostly jelly.

This is what it takes to break the tension in the room. Prince Taehyung insists you sit, orders Satuel to send for a full breakfast for all of you.

“Please, coffee,” you beg.

Once you’re all sitting and no one is yelling, you manage to get an update from Taehyung about what happened last night.

“There’s no doubt it was an attack,” he admits glumly. “Magical fire doesn’t start on its own, to begin with, and it started simultaneously in three different wings. The guards were fighting it right away, but it took most of the night for them to confirm that no one had gotten into the palace. It seems, for now, that we’re safe.”

“So, now what?” Namjoon asks, leaning forward intently. “Will the Runes retaliate? Press charges?”

Prince Taehyung shrugs, though you think he probably does know. “The cabinet is meeting right now,” he says, which explains why the King and Queen are no longer present. “But I think… yes, action will be taken.”

He takes a breath, then looks at each of you. “Unless… well.. even if I can… but I have to try…”

You seem to have lost him to an argument with himself.

“Maiesti?” you venture. “We don’t… know what you’re talking about.”

He takes another breath, runs a hand over his face, covering it completely for a minute as he collects himself.

“I’m going into Scores’ territory tomorrow,” he says, once he’s uncovered. There’s something steely in his tone, something resolute. “I’ll be gone from dawn to… well , sometime before midnight.”

Your stomach turns; you don’t like the idea of being in the palace without him.

You don’t like the idea of him being out there without you.

He reads your frown.

“I must go,” he says, frowning back at you. “I’d stay if I could, but it’s imperative.”

“No,” you say quickly, waving your hands to stop him in his spiral. “I wasn’t trying to stop you. I just…” You pause, embarrassed. He looks at you with sorrowful brown eyes, and something in your gut kicks you into continuing. “I just feel safer when I know you’re nearby.”

You watch him soften.

“You are safer when I’m nearby,” he murmurs.

“Perhaps,” Satuel says gently, and you jump, having nearly forgotten that she and Namjoon are part of this conversation as well, “the curse-breakers would benefit from visiting the archives in Lucrotio?”

Namjoon lets out a sound like someone grabbed him by the esophagus and squeezed. “The archive of Lucrotio?” he echoes. “We can’t just walk in there, they’re sacred -”

“You can if I say you can,” Prince Taehyung interrupts. He’s got that coolness to his voice again, the one that you’ve noticed shows up when he slips into his royal role, when he’s leaning on his authority. Then, the coldness drops, and he looks at Namjoon closely. “Would it be beneficial to you?”

Namjoon lets out a breath like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Yes,” he says hollowly, turning to look at you to see if you’re on the same page.

You’re not; whatever he knows about these archives, you don’t know - which is unusual.

“The most extensive - and oldest - collection of elemental magic texts in Infracticus,” he tells you, and your eyes widen.

“Oh shit,” you utter, then look quickly at the prince to see if he looks offended. He doesn’t even seem like he noticed. Instead, he seems to be scheming.

“In that case,” he muses, “would you care to join us? You could research at the archives while I handle my business.”

“Yes,” Namjoon says emphatically, nodding strongly. “Yes, I want to go to the archives.”

You bite back a smile; seeing Namjoon get geeky about his field makes you feel very kindred with him.

Prince Taehyung looks uneasy for a minute. “Ah,” he says, a bit awkwardly, like he doesn’t want to ask what he’s about to ask. “The thing is… Y/N… that thing you did - putting up the magical walls? Do you think you could do that again? On demand?”

You look at him, baffled. “Huh?”

He looks almost ashamed. “I was just thinking that… I may be walking into a delicate situation… if you accompanied me as my -” He cuts himself off, suddenly avoiding your gaze.

You narrow your eyes. “As your venefici?”

He smiles sheepishly. “I meant it as a place of honor, at my side. But, yes. However, if researching in the archives will help you with the curse, then by all means - I do not want to take you from that.”

You look at Namjoon. It’s a no-brainer for you - of course you’d rather stay close to the prince’s side, act to protect him if necessary, over being left at the archives with Namjoon, researching a part of the magical process you know the least about.

“No offense,” Namjoon says drolly, “but you won’t be much help to me anyway, Y/N - you don’t know what to look for. But… I don’t want to be left there alone. Could one or two of the palace guards stay with me?”

“Of course,” Prince Taehyung promises eagerly. He looks at you, suddenly boyish in his hopefulness, as he waits for your response.

You feel suddenly shy, especially in the presence of Namjoon and Satuel.

“I’d be honored to stay with you, Maiesti,” you say quietly.

There are many more things you’d want to say, if you were alone. You hope he can hear them, or at least hear their presence, know that they are there.

From the look he gives you, you think he might.

“Very well,” he says. “We’ll leave quite early tomorrow. We’ll return sometime after sundown. For now, shall we escort you back to your own rooms?”

Satuel leads you out the door, and Namjoon follows. You reach out quickly, your fingers snagging on Prince Taehyung’s. He pauses, turning to look at you, clearly surprised.

“Yes?” he asks. “What is it?”

“The last time we were together -”

His face darkens. “Please,” he says, implores, the word leaving his mouth like a plea, “don’t ever do anything that dangerous again. I couldn’t bear it if… if something happened, if I were responsible…”

You brush this aside, unwilling to make any such promise, needing time alone to process those words with that voice.

“Not then, before that,” you correct. “In your rooms, when I was recovering, you said the accusations were true. You said you were trying to fix it.”

He just stares at you, face impassive - almost looking like the cold prince you’d met on your very first day. But your fingers are still tangled with his; neither of you pulled away after you’d grabbed for him.

“Tell me,” you beg. “Please, tell me what’s going on.”

His mouth twists. His fingers tighten on yours for only a second. “It isn’t your problem. This isn’t your land.”

“No,” you agree somewhat reluctantly. “But it does involve my people. And I’m here, now, for who knows how much longer. I’m going through what everyone here is going through. Did I not spend last night escaping from magical fire? I deserve to know. I’m part of this.”

Your voice gets stronger the more you say, until by the end you can feel your hands curled into fists and your face slides into a defensive scowl. At some point, you must have pulled your hand away from his. You don’t remember doing it.

He sighs, looks around; you’ve been around him enough to know he does that when he’s thinking, like the room will give him an answer he likes better than the one he’s facing.

“You are,” he allows finally, his deep voice calm and even. Then, he sighs. “Very well. The short version is… a year ago, I found out what my father was doing. He was essentially buying favors, buying loyalty - from important families who wanted to hunt, who object to the protection laws. Then, atop that, he was working up to framing the Scores for the killing. They were gaining too much favor around court, vague comments about the throne had been made - he felt threatened. This way he could solidify relationships and weaken Score influence at the same time.”

You’re quiet for a minute, processing. “How long was it going on before you found out?”

Prince Taehyung flushes, averts his eyes. “Longer than I’m proud to admit,” he says gruffly.

You reach out and touch the back of his hand tentatively. “And now?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I found out that he didn’t stop. He swore to me it was ending - over a year ago. When I figured it out… I started thinking of how to stop him, for good.”

You wait. You know to wait.

He lets out a breath. “The fastest way - barring murder, and I am above patricide, unfortunately for everyone - would be to remove him from power - to get him to agree to transfer the crown to me earlier than is customary.”

You step back, eyes widening. “Would he? Could that actually happen?”

Taehyung looks at you, something dark swimming across his features. “He might. With the right… persuasion. As I said… I’m working on it.”

You look at him for a minute, taking it in, taking him in.

“Okay,” you nod. “Well… if I can help… I’m smarter than my actions here have implied.”

He smiles at this, appreciating the joke. “I know you are,” he promises. Then he leads you by the hand to follow Satuel and Namjoon back to your quarters.

—

It wasn’t that long ago that Taehyung discovered his father’s dishonesty.

In fact, it had been less than a week before you’d arrived.

He had been buzzing with adrenaline and need - the need to do something, to take action, to make it better now, as if that could undo any of the wrongs that have been tallying up without his knowledge for months on end.

It was too long to wait for the natural transfer of power - another four hundred years, following the Infracti customs. Tradition wrote that he wouldn’t take the crown until the day he turned one thousand years old.

It was clear to Taehyung, as he strode purposefully through the castle, that his father couldn’t be reasoned with, couldn’t be talked into doing the right thing.

Taehyung had no allies, no armies, no knowledge in warfare; a direct attack was out of the question.

He reached his rooms, went straight to his greenhouses. He tried to sit, legs bouncing as his mind whirled and spun. Then, he paced, up and down the worn, dirt path, hands waving as he schemed and thought and argued in his head.

As he paced, an idea began to form, slowly, haltingly. The problem wasn’t just his father, he realized. The problem was also the law, the protection laws written in partnership with humans, that declared that the Infracti crown could only pass down the Rune bloodline - from Sunjae, to Taehyung, to whatever poor soul Taehyung brought into the world, someday.

If this works… he thought, it won’t solve anything right away. It will bring a period of chaos, and maybe even war… years from now. I’ll have time before then to gather forces, to ask for advice, to research… it buys me time, it gives me bargaining power.

Maybe, he thought, this solution isn’t perfect. But it’s better than nothing. It’s better than nothing, and it’ll buy me time and leverage.

With these thoughts spurring him on, he turned and went back the way he came - heading down into the palace depths, down and down, the steps growing colder beneath his feet the further he went.

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thank you so much for reading!!!! i promise this is NOT reader's last/only encounter with what i lovingly call "scuttlebug vamp tae". we are officially in my favorite chapters and there's so much more still to happen! thank you for being here ily guys

[hologramcowboy]

I think everyone needs to read this interview. I genuinely think so much less of Jensen after finding this (and it’s been buried very, very deep - almost impossible to dig up). This is utterly trashy; it outs Danneel as a very *crass* mean girl. I can’t comprehend why Jensen would choose to marry her (especially considering that he famously broke up with Joanna Krupa after she spoke about him in a Playboy piece). Compared to Danneel, Joanna was positively demure and tasteful in her comments. Also, Danneel jumped onto the “Me Too” bandwagon very publicly, claiming that she was “forced” to pose for Maxim with Sophia and Hilarie, and that it was a demeaning experience. I find it very interesting that she independently posed for Maxim on several other occasions, and attended many of their parties. And the photo shoots Danneel did on her own were FAR racier than any of the “One Tree Hill” shots.

Like it or not, there is truth in the statement “you are the company you keep.” I would love to know your thoughts on this, and whether this interview leads anyone else to lose respect for Jensen.

I remember this interview, I know all about her trashy interviews because I’ve read them all. There’s one out there where she was praising herself for punching a girl, another where she stated something like “there are plenty of fish in the sea” meaning that if it didn’t work out with Jensen she’d be fine. It was a trashy magazine where her nipples were showing from beneath a blue t-shirt.

All of her career photoshoots were classless and all of her interviews gave away her mean and arrogant streak. You don’t marry someone like that unless you share some of those qualities or approve of them.

Notice how she says naked scenes are off limits for her but then proceeds to be naked in almost every role after. 😂 This is the same woman who claims to be a Christ loving, super religious person. I mean c’mon, this lady has all the tricks. She’s anything she needs to be to dupe people into giving her what she wants. I don’t think Jensen knew what he was signing up for, not fully anyway but he was too proud to back down on his choice, too focused on image.

Wow. This image could be the poster for the definition of b****\meangirl. Look at that expression! Gross, classless and so very vulgar.