#he's very splendid indeed

[maxwellscorner]

💎 Gentlemen prefer... James 💗

I had to do something for 5/5, after all he's everyone's favorite, according to himself. And he comes and pink and black too

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Guizhong (don't mind me re-dropping this with the fixed ones, shh)

[yuelun]

Tag drop #2: Character things and dynamics (more will be added).

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 009 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

c/w. 18+. modern royal au. infidelity. angst. gaslighting. toxic characters. very suggestive. toxic relationships. unedited. kiyoomi is horny. and uh suna too

notes. we are in kiyoomi arccc whewww, also i think i mentioned the word balls like three times. anyways.

wc. 10.8k

series masterlist 

[ NINE ] i know a place, it’s somewhere I go when I need to remember your face. we get married in our heads, something to do while we try to recall how we met

You were still reeling from your shock by the time your Mother showed up beside you. She must have noticed the quite interesting crowd of the royals and their parents, and couldn’t wait to indulge in the drama. A nosy creature, your mother was, but her presence comforted you. You had heard about it before – the tradition of having your last dance on your debutante ball would be your destined lover. Your mother would know; your father was her last dance. But you couldn’t remember it clearly, not when your only memory of your debut ball was the sinking dread of coming out into society and having to be removed from the comfort of your bedroom.

“My last dance,” you mused, plastering an apologetic smile as you turned to the older Prince. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I hadn’t known it was you.”

“As I’ve mentioned, I am the Forgotten Prince.”

Kanami ignored her son’s remark and clapped her hands. “It was a beautiful last dance as well. In fact, I’m certain your Mother remembers it.”

“I do! Oh, Princess, Miss Sakusa is right. I still remember that first time you danced with one of the Princes! It was magical!”

“It must be,” quipped Suna, who possessively wrapped an arm around your waist. He was close enough you could feel his breath on the nape of your neck, and even without looking at him, you could tell he was glaring at his brother.  “Kiyoomi is a fantastic dancer. But tradition aside, fate sure has a funny way of working out because I wasn’t her last dance, yet she married me. I am a lucky Prince for that.”

“You weren’t even at her debut ball,” mumbled the Second Prince, causing your eyes to nearly pop out your head.

You knew it was rare for royals to attend the birthday balls of even noble families, but finding out that your husband hadn’t danced with you on your special night was a different kind of hurt.

“The Crown Prince is a lucky man, indeed,” sighed Kanami dreamily, unaware of the tension between you four – with the brothers ready to tear at each other’s throat, and Iris’ smile slowly transforming into a grimace. An eventful night, indeed. “So, Your Highness, any thoughts on my invitation?”

You didn’t give it a second thought.

“I would love to visit Itachiyama, Kanami.”

“Splendid! Oh, come, come, we have much to talk about!” she stole you away despite your husband’s protests, and soon, you were led away from the crowd. It was all up to your Mother to hold Rintaro back. Glancing back at your husband worriedly, all the worries faded away. Because he wasn’t even looking at you, but rather at Iris, who clutched her head and murmured something while Rintaro fretted over her. The only person who looked at you was Prince Kiyoomi, his handsome face stoic while his mother yapped in your ear.

“You have no idea how happy you’ve made this old woman.”

You turned away from her son’s intense gaze, waving a dismissive hand in the hair. “Please. You are hardly old. I can only hope I look as good as you at that age.”

“Dear, you flatter me too much!”

Smiling at her cuteness, you glanced around the room to look at her again. It seemed like she knew she would be the tonight’s topic, as the Princess’ red lips flattened into a thin line. You almost had the urge to smile wickedly. Almost, if she hadn’t been leaning against your husband for support. You wanted to scoff. She really had the audacity to pretend she was the poor one here – and because of what? Because her mother in law disapproved of her?

She had everything already. She had your husband’s heart, and you couldn’t even keep his attention on you for longer than ten minutes.

The Princess needed to stop acting like a kicked puppy. Otherwise, you would truly give in to the desire to kick her until she whined and cried at your feet.

Gods. Since when had you been so violent?

“As much as I am looking forward to our trip, however, I cannot help but wonder why you seemed… against Princess Iris,” you voiced your thoughts out, feigning innocence. “I am only assuming, of course. I do not mean to say you hold any animosity towards Her Highness.”

“You are not wrong. I do hold some ‘animosity’ towards her,” chuckled the free-mouthed Kanami, almost as if she didn’t care anyone could hear. She was too laid-back for a foreign guest, but you supposed with her wealth and fame, along with the fact she was the biological mother of the Second Prince, her confidence made sense. “I am well aware it is wrong, and I could be gravely punished for speaking ill about the royals, but… I never quite liked her for my son. They were never a great fit.”

“Is it because he is older?”

“Pssh. The age gap hardly matters. He is only three years older. But there is something about Iris… something… off. I mean, I know my place. It is not like I married the King or was promised any security or titles when I birthed his son, but I am still his mother, and surely I have the right to care about his future. That includes who he marries, and quite frankly, I dislike his wife. She seems ingenuine.”

“How so?”

Kanami’s cheeks puckered out. “Well, imagine my shock when my son – who spends most of his time hiding away in his room with his nose buried in a book – suddenly becomes a husband in a fortnight! And to her, no less. It is all too suspicious, I tell you. I have never heard nice things about that girl and her mother.”

“Her mother was an honorable and loyal follower of the Crown. Despite being from Itachiyama, they pledged their lives to the Crown.”

“Which is odd in itself, because Itachiyama is a great country. We are peaceful, and if there are issues within the people, it is resolved immediately. So that whole sham of a story of her mother ‘defecting’ and moving here for a better life sounds unbelievable,” she shook her head, lowering her voice as she hid her lips behind her palm. “And I know her mother. Kate. She has always been ambitious, scarily so.”

“And you know this because…?”

“Because years ago, when His Majesty visited Itachiyama, I was not the one who meant to end up in his bed,” she admitted with a wince, “Kate had always set her sights on greater things. If she couldn’t be his wife, she could be his concubine, at the very least. And oh, His Majesty was smitten with her. She was a wonderful performer, and they shared too many drinks, but… Well, I, myself, am lost on what happened next. The King and I conversed the whole night, and I felt a spark, you know?”

Your head spun with all this information. You always knew the Royal Family Tree was a mess, thanks to the late King’s trysts with multiple women. But hearing about the history of it all caused your head to ache.

“I see. And that night, Kiyoomi was conceived.”

“He was. And Kate never spoke to me again. Next thing I know, I heard she moved to Inarizaki, and I figured she still hadn’t given up on the King. So when my son informed he was now married to Kate’s daughter, I was restless. I am most certain this had to be her doing.”

“Where is she now? Iris’ mother?”

“I don’t know,” she blinked, as if realizing this now, too. “She disappeared one day, and each time I asked Iris how her mother was faring, she’d stop speaking completely.”

“Perhaps she is not on good terms with her mother and is uncomfortable about the topic.”

“Perhaps,” she agreed, and then tilted her head to the side, a smirk on her pretty face. “Is it rude of me to say I wish my son married you instead? I know you are smitten with your Prince, but a mother can hope, can she not?”

The rest of the night, Miss Sakusa terrorized the guests. It was uncanny seeing how different she was to her son, who barely spoke a word. She was bright and lively, lived for sarcasm, and seemed to have a penchant for making Iris uncomfortable. You honestly would’ve felt bad if you didn’t agree to the mean things Kanami said about her. But that aside, you still couldn’t move over the fact that Iris was a huge contrast to Maiko. Maiko and Oikawa’s marriage, you understood. She came from an influential noble family, and so did Tooru. But who was Iris, exactly? How exactly did a citizen from Itachiyama, without a father and a mysterious, greedy mother end up being married to a Prince also in line for the crown?

Could it be that Kanami was right? Did Iris’ mother plan all of this – all to have a spot in the throne? If it was true, then you couldn’t cross out the possibility Iris may have seduced Rintaro when they were teenagers. He was the Crown Prince, for goodness’ sake. There was no quicker ticket to the throne than to have the rightful heir be smitten with you.

All this thinking wasn’t good for the night.

You were supposed to enjoy, and so you stole a glass when a servant passed and down the drink, uncaring if people thought it to be ungraceful for a Princess. It was an intimate gathering, anyway, with only the royal family and some of your closest friends and relatives. Surely they would understand you needed to loosen up.

Breaking free from Kanami, who had now taken her attentions to fixing Kiyoomi’s unruly curls, you watched as your Mother stood in front of the podium. She tapped the bread knife against her class, the clinking sound catching everyone’s attention. When she had them, your mother took a deep breath, searching for you in the crowd as a smile lit up her face.

You stiffened in your seat. Beside you, Rintaro took his place, his hand snaking down to rest on your thigh.

“I would like to thank everyone who graced us with their presence tonight,” your mother began, raising her glass in the air. “And I would like a toast in honor of Her Highness’ marriage, and to the Crown Prince, as well. I wish you both nothing but happiness and may you reign supreme.”

“To the Prince and Princess!” cheered the crowd. Feeling everyone’s eyes on you, you leaned back against Rintaro’s chest and smiled, the perfect image of a couple in love. Rintaro played the part, too, squeezing your thigh and pressing a kiss on the curve of your cheek. You let out a giggle – though it sounded more like a gurgle at the shock. Rintaro chuckled at your reaction, his chest vibrating with the sound.

You couldn’t deal with this anymore.

The night went from perfect to messed up, to you being slapped in the face with reality. You felt bad for yourself for not learning. Just because your husband danced with you, and he’d been perfect the past few days, didn’t mean he wouldn’t run to Iris if given the chance. You’d seen it with your own eyes. How if stuck in a situation where he was forced to choose between the two, he would choose her. And it was pathetic. You had his ring on your finger. You had the burden of his crown and title on your shoulders when all you ever wanted was love. And he couldn’t even give you that. Worse, he meant none of it.

How was it so easy for him to laugh and kiss you like it was the most normal thing in the world when both of you knew deep down he did not want you?

It was becoming unbearable. You needed to leave. Now.

Prying yourself off his grasp, you ducked. “Excuse me.” Rintaro couldn’t get the chance to speak when you darted past him and into the restroom. There, you heard the racing of your heart loud and clear – a song of both yearning and hurt lingering deep in your bones. You couldn’t understand it – not when you glanced at your reflection in the mirror and wondered… why not me? You were beautiful. You were educated. Surely, he must have seen good qualities in you if he chose to court you for two years when there were other more charismatic bachelorettes out there. Or… did he choose you because he knew you were inexperienced? Because you were lonely, shy, and therefore the easiest to manipulate?

The worst part of it all was that he had already made his intentions clear. You knew he loved her. You saw it in his eyes – the way his eyes drooped when he spoke about her, and his voice grew softer. How he yearned for her so badly talking about her hurt. But Maiko had given you false hope, and his sweet gestures didn’t help. This would all be easier if he hurt you, like he had back at your honeymoon, because then at least you would have a greater reason to hate him.

And that was what you wanted, wasn’t it?

To turn all this love into hate.

So letting him go would be easier. Although it never was.

Gripping the edge of the sink, you forced yourself to take deep breaths. Breathe in, breathe out. Count from one to eight with your eyes closed and focus only on the sensation of your lungs expanding and retracting. Do not think about him, do not think about his kisses, or his hand on your thigh, or how he called you beautiful –

“So this is where you were.”

You raised your head. Rintaro swung the door open, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you inquisitively. You both stared at each other like that for a moment, letting all the unspoken words just hang in the air until he broke the silence. “I’m sorry,” he sighed, sounding defeated. And this time, it sounded like he meant it.  “You know I don’t wish to lie to your parents like that.”

You shrugged, turning on the faucet and splashing some water on your face. It became harder to breathe when he was around – all handsome and every bit the piece of your greatest desire.

“It’s just another night we have to see the end of.”

“Are you really going to Itachiyama?” he craned his head, eyes narrowed. “I cannot accompany you.”

“I did not ask you to.”

“I know, but,” he tried to argue, crossing the distance in three long strides. Just like the other night at the Palace hallway, his large frame engulfed you, trapping you between him and the sink. With him this close, you could see the unmasked desperation written all over his face. The frustration. “It’s… it’s Kiyoomi. I am uncomfortable knowing you would be spending days with him. Alone, at that. At least take someone with you.”

“My maids are coming.”

“I do not mean the maids.”

“Then who should I bring? His precious wife?” you rolled your eyes, “In case you weren’t aware, she isn’t invited either.”

“She should be…”

You couldn’t stop yourself from planting your palms in his chest, and gave him a shove. Your stupid husband, all lean with muscle, barely budged. It irritated you further. “Oh, come on, Your Highness. Do not act like this inconveniences you. I will be away for days, and so is your lover’s husband. The two people standing in your way will be out of your hair. Shouldn’t you be rejoicing in delight? No better time to frolic around with your lover when your wife and her husband aren’t around.”

Rintaro’s jaw clenched.

“You are saying I should be happy my wife is going on vacation with another man.”

“It sounds to me like you are afraid of your own shadow,” you mocked, and Rintaro flinched back. He hadn’t expected the harsh truth of your words would pierce this deep. “I am not an adulterer, my Prince. It has never once occurred to me to seduce someone else when I am married. Besides, Iris seemed rather relieved at the prospect of having you all by herself for a week,” you reminded him, having seen the Princess’ newfound relief only moments after Kanami had announced you would be having a trip with her son. It made you want to laugh. “You should enjoy, my Prince. You can even fuck in our bedroom.”

Whatever distance he previously put between you disappeared.

Rintaro growled, slamming his chest into yours until there was nothing but your clothes separating you. He shook with fury, and you delighted in it. How you could provoke this reaction from him. And you laughed, or tried to, because all the noises you made got swallowed in your throat when Rintaro grabbed your throat. Not tight enough to choke you, but the pressure served as a warning. Swiping his thumb on your lower lip, Rintaro huffed.

“Every day you test my patience. I think I rather preferred you when you were more malleable.”

“Sounds like you married the wrong person, then,” you spat out, and Rintaro’s dark chuckle reverberated in the empty space of the room.

“Oh, I made no mistake choosing you, that I assure. You are perfect in my eyes, whether you believe it or not,” and sooner than you liked, your husband was off of you again. But he was still close enough that his fingers intertwined with yours, the touch shockingly gentle despite his apparent anger with you. “And because you are my perfect wife, and my Princess, we will go back out there with all smiles and laughter. We are to appear in love. Do you understand?”

You glared up at him defiantly.

“Fuck you, Rintaro.”

Your husband smirked. “Darling, I wish you would.”

You began packing for your trip to Itachiyama. It wasn’t supposed to be for another three days, since Kanami still had work and wanted to be free by the time you and Kiyoomi arrived, but after everything that happened between you and Rintaro, you were eager to leave. After that dreadful night at the ball where he forced you to hold his hand the entire time, your legs felt uncomfortable with slick.

As shameful as it was to admit, you hadn’t expected your husband’s anger would make you feel things. Sinful things that led you to sneaking your hands down your thighs when you got home. And by the Gods, you bit your lip so hard to not scream his name when he was just in the other room.

Another moment spent with him was just pure torture. So, you were running away.

It wasn’t the bravest thing to do, but you already tried braving it all, only to fail spectacularly. You were still weak around him, and until you managed enough strength to actually pretend you didn’t care about Rintaro, the distance sounded like bliss. Even if your husband eventually supported you in this trip, because ‘he can finally spend more time with Iris.’ Right. You wanted him to be happy about this, but heavens, couldn’t he act a little less eager to have you gone?

You think you would lose it if he truly fucked her in your bed.

“Call me when you get there,” Rintaro’s voice drifted through the wind, and you swallowed. You were now at the airport, and he stood there below the staircase, hands shoved in his pockets. Your heart ached at the sight of him – so handsome with the wind messing up his hair, his cheeks just slighty flushed from the cold, and his lips plump and swollen still from the farewell kiss he gave you. It was all just an act, of course, since there must be some lingering paparazzi, but you still felt him. You could still taste the mint of his toothpaste on your tongue, his strawberry candy lingering at your taste buds.

But of course, he didn’t love you.

You felt the lack of that, too.

“I’ll see you,” was all you said before turning around, already looking inside the plane and spotting Kiyoomi.

He sat on the seat across from you, his eyes closed with music playing in his headphones. He looked so peaceful like this. For once, he wasn’t frowning, and it was then that nervousness settled in you as you awkwardly shifted in your seat. You still weren’t quite too fond of the Second Prince – his dry remarks always baffled you. He always left you wondering if you should laugh it off, or if you should apologize. If not that, his silence itself was completely unsettling. And when he opened his eyes, his body as still as water when he regarded you, you were certain you stopped breathing.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Huh? Oh. Oh, yes. I am.”

The Prince nods, looking outside the window. You did, too, and then regretted it when you caught sight of Iris and Rintaro outside the limos, huddled together for warmth. To other people’s eyes, it would just be two people waving goodbye to their spouses as they left. But you and Kiyoomi knew better.

Wriggling back to make himself more comfortable in his seat, Kiyoomi turned up the volume in his phone. “Well, this is going to be fun.”

You wished you could agree.

When you woke, you had arrived in Itachiyama. It was only a forty-five minute flight, but you dozed off nonetheless, and when you did, Kiyoomi had already wrapped a blanket around you. You thanked the silent Prince for it, but he made no gesture to say whether he heard you or not. He was a gentleman, at least. Holding your hand as you made your way down the plane, opening the doors for you into his car, and offering you drinks as the driver headed to Kiyoomi’s farmhouse.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with my mother. She can be quite persuasive.”

You looked back at Kiyoomi. You had been staring at all the billboards of Kanami; commercial ads, movie promotions, and the like. It stunned you again how this loud and flashy woman was the mother of a silent, brooding man. Even now, he had himself glued to his seat, adamant to put distance between you both with his arms crossed against his chest. “I was delighted by her invitation,” you tell him, glancing outside the windows again at another huge billboard of Kanami eating local ramen noodles. ‘MUST TRY!’ it was captioned, and they colored her cheeks red from the spicy flavor. You chuckled. “Wow. She really is everywhere.”

Kiyoomi followed your gaze. “She’s Itachiyama’s darling,” he shrugged, and then leant forward until his elbows rested on his knees. Sheepish wasn’t a word you would use to describe the Second Prince, but he definitely looked like it right now. “I must let you know, my mother didn’t invite you to visit just because she felt like it. She… well, she wanted you to somehow see Itachiyama as your home.”

“But I already have a home.”

“Yes, but she is fond of you, and she’s delusional that you should’ve been married to me,” he scratched his cheek, purposefully avoiding your gaze. Then, his cheeks flushed red, and you felt heat crawling on your neck at the implication of his words. “Sorry. That was awkward.”

“It’s fine. You are a great man, so it’s not like being married to you sounds entirely bad.”

“Definitely beats being married to my brother.”

“I guess so,” you chuckled, expelling any thoughts of being married to Kiyoomi instead. It wasn’t such a bad thing, to be honest. He was tall, handsome, and respectful. All of the Princess were good-looking in their own ways, but Prince Kiyoomi held the type of regal beauty that you would have oil portraits of hanging on the entrance of your home. He was large, stood tall and imposing, but never did he actually make you feel small or irrelevant. And even with his mysterious and silent demeanor, his intimidating features did little to hide his humble and bashful nature underneath. Which you found adorable, but you would never say it out loud. Instead, you watched as a crowd gathered in the middle of the city. Children ran around laughing, and parents bought trinkets from the stalls set up at the edge of the road.

“What is that?”

“A culture festival. They hold it annually around this time of the year to welcome autumn and give thanks for prosperous harvests. It’s called Kōyō no Matsuri, or ‘Festival of the Changing Leaves.’ It lasts about eight days where the farmers come together and celebrate.”

Unable to contain your excitement, you pressed your palms against the window. “I heard about this from the Crown Prince. Something about Itachiyama being one of the main suppliers of harvest and livestock?”

“We’re mostly a farmer country, whilst Inarizaki is the more advanced and modern one. It’s mostly to do with how our terrain is just richer in natural riches, while Inarizaki boasts in academics and politics,” he informed, “On the third day of the festival, the farmers visit some shrines to offer thanks for their harvest, and on the fifth day, they gather around the old temples and castles before Itachiyama and Inarizaki were split into two.”

“Wow. I hadn’t known your country would be so rich with history.”

“Technically, both countries share the same history. They just took separate paths at the end of it all.”

Pushing yourself off from the window, the driver drove past from the festival commotion until more trees surrounded you. You figured you’d left the city and now travelled somewhere more remote – fitting for where Kiyoomi lived.

“Do you like it better here?”

“Yes. It’s much quieter, and here, people don’t care too much on how I’m supposed to act as a Prince. I’m not their Prince, after all. I’m just a half-blood who happened to be their spokesperson.”

Something about his tone told you there was more he wanted to say, but chose not to. You pondered over it – how the Princes were so different. Some loved their titles and basked in their wealth, while some took their duties seriously to serve their people better. And then there was Rintaro, who was nearly crushed by the pressure to become better than Ushijima, and Kiyoomi… Kiyoomi, who remains an enigma to you. From what you heard about the Second Prince, people called him lazy, rarely attending meetings and showing up only when needed. It made you wonder how he was like as a little boy, who probably just wanted to live normally and in quiet, but because he was a Prince, he had to become someone else entirely.

Letting it go, you decided to change the topic. You were certain the Prince would share more with you about himself when he was ready.

“Your Highness, I would love to attend the festival.”

“Really?” his brows raised, and your eyes caught the motion of his vertical moles following the movement. “I mean, you can, but there would be lots of people. Wouldn’t you rather rest?”

“I’ve been doing nothing but rest the past few days. It would be nice to go out and do something. Besides, I wish to know more about your people.” And you meant it. You were barely a few hours in Itachiyama, but it already reminded you of the peaceful Greenville where you were raised. Itachiyama was starting to feel like home, like Kanami hoped.

Across you, you remained unaware of the Prince’s soft smile.

“I see. I shall take you to the festival tonight.”

Seeing as Kanami still had her schedule filled, you and Kiyoomi had the rest of the day to yourselves until she returned. His mother did his best to welcome you, though, even in her absence. When you arrived at Kiyoomi’s farmhouse, she had already left you a bouquet of roses and a handwritten card telling you how happy she was her ‘daughter’ was now in her home country. It made your heart soften, even more so when she lent you a black-and-yellow floral yukata for tonight’s festival.

“You look nice,” Kiyoomi commented when you descended from the stairs, some flower pins in your hair. Overall, you felt pretty. It felt nice to be out of corsets and long-sleeved dresses. You could tell Kiyoomi approved too, as his eyes lit up, but his lips remained the same with an impassive expression. Offering his arm, you gladly took it, letting him lead you out and into the awaiting chauffeur. “Did my mother tell you to wear that?”

“She did. She said it would be more appropriate to wear traditional clothing fitting for the festival,” you gave a little twirl, and Kiyoomi’s lips curled by the slightest. It was enough to make you happy, and you were practically bouncing in your seat as the city lights came into view. Kiyoomi’s farmhouse rested on the countryside; surrounded by nothing but hills and endless amounts of grass. Signal couldn’t reach there, too, so you left your phone behind.

Tonight, you would simply enjoy this trip.

“Do you attend often?”

“When I can, yes, but… It’s a rather intimate celebration for the farmers, and I feel like I don’t do much for them, so I mostly sit out at home.”

“But you are a farmer, too, aren’t you?”

His eyes narrowed, but the reddening of his ears told you it was more of embarrassment. “Who told you that?”

“Your mother,” you chuckled. Once you’d arrived at the city, and the driver had parked somewhere else, you looped your arm around Kiyoomi’s and ventured into the heart of thefestival. “And I’m not stupid – you live in a farmhouse and have your own barn. I just never thought you would be the nature type.”

“There are lots you don’t know about me.”

“I can always learn.”

Kiyoomi’s gaze casted downwards. You couldn’t read his expression; he was always so guarded. But before you could contemplate on it further, you were swept up in the festivities. Everyone around you wore a yukata, and young couples held hands while wearing matching bracelets. Kiyoomi had told you those bracelets were special only for this festival, that the symbol of the moon was to pay respects to the Heavens for the blessings they bestow. Parents also joined in the night, with their children eating caramelized apples, and other candies. Mostly, the stalls offered food from their harvests such as roasted chestnuts, rice cakes, and pumpkin dishes. There was such a strong sense of community within the people that you were overwhelmed – Inarizaki didn’t feel as homely as Itachiyama.

An hour later, your stomach was well beyond full. You’d tasted and tried everything the farmers and their wives made. And when they saw the delighted way you closed your eyes and moaned at the delicacies, they offered you more and more. Kiyoomi paid for everything despite your protests, saying he was the host, and your only job for tonight was to enjoy.

Well, you surely wouldn’t complain.

Once you’d eaten your fill, and purchased a fox mask that matched your yukata, a group of young men started banging their drums. A woman played her flute effortlessly even behind her crow mask. Beside her, more people in matching crow masks sang in a foreign language. It sounded like a serenade; something about the voices were sweet, calling out to you like you were being seduced, and the hypnotic beats of the drum made your hips sway. But the most shocking part of it all was when people began to join in and held their partners, bumping their masks as if they were kissing, their hands squeezing each other’s waists and chanting along to the song.

You were mesmerized.

“That’s the Harvesting Dance,” Kiyoomi whispered in your ear, “They dance in hopes to bring joy to the ancestral spirits for blessing them with good harvest this year.”

“Must it always be a man and a woman?”

“It’s… an intimate dance,” he struggled to let out, and you craned your head towards him. He’d bought himself a fox mask to match yours, claiming he’d feel more comfortable if people didn’t recognize him. “Like the union of man and woman, they have become one with the ancestral spirits. It’s a time for reconnecting to their old ways, and showing gratitude for the family they’ve been given. And, uhm…” he scratched the back of his ears, which had turned pinkish again, “Well, it’s not just about harvest, really. It is also a dance for fertile crops and fertile wombs.”

Realization dawned on you.

“Oh!”

“It is a newly married couple’s tradition to participate in the dance.”

You nodded at the information, feeling both flustered and entertained at the Prince’s bashfulness. You almost wanted to tease him more about it until you were dragged by a young woman, her male partner already waiting for her in the middle of the dance. She rotated her hips in a circle and jumped to the beat, head thrown back in laughter. You couldn’t help but laugh with her, too – her laugh was contagious, and Kiyoomi was right. There was a sense of freedom when people didn’t know who you were.

“You lovebirds! Don’t miss out on the dance, unless you want the ancestral spirits to take away your virility!”

“Oh, thank you, but–”

“You are newly married, are you not?”

“I am, but–”

“Then come dance so you may be blessed with many healthy offspring!”

Sending a halfhearted apologetic smile to Prince, you dragged him with you. You realized he couldn’t see you, exactly, but your eyes were crinkled enough from your joy. He grumbled a bit, but otherwise didn’t complain. When the music played again, you mimicked the locals’ movements and giggled so hard your stomach hurt. Some of the steps were suggestive – a flirty brush of your knuckles on Kiyoomi’s chest, or him rubbing his mask tenderly at the sensitive spot of your neck. Through it all, you had to remain connected to each other. It was hard to tell who held who tighter – Kiyoomi had his hands planted on your hips with a deliciously vice-tight grip, and the fronts of his kimono had been undone by your teasing, restless hands.

You now understood why the dance encouraged fertility. There was so much seduction with only just your bodies, with no words needing to be spoken. And you couldn’t help but wonder – is this the way to Kiyoomi’s heart? Because he is not the best with words, so you had to touch him at all the right places?

You received your answer when the drums came to a crescendo before immediately halting. Like a growing orgasm, until it exploded from within, and you found yourself pressed up against Kiyoomi’s. Pressed close enough that his breathing matched yours. His eyes, already dark, grew impossibly darker.

“That was fun!” you bumped your mask with his, breathing hard underneath. “Has anyone told you you’re a great dancer?”

The Prince snorted. “I would be surprised if I wasn’t. I spent the good half of my childhood enduring dance lessons, thanks to my mother.”

You laughed hard at that. Already, this was becoming one of the best nights of your life. Back in Inarizaki, you didn’t go out much to socialize. All the other unmarried ladies seemed to be well-versed in charismatic social skills and effortlessly landed a husband within months after their debut into society. You, on the other hand, having grown up as an only child with busy parents, had no one to talk to. You stuttered a lot, and always stumbled on your own thoughts when voicing them out loud. It truly was a surprise to everyone that the Crown Prince found you interesting – even if that seemed a lifetime ago.

But you supposed you really weren’t the same person anymore. Because if you were still the same shy, bumbling young woman from years ago, you wouldn’t be here in Itachiyama, laughing without a care in the world with a handsome Prince at your side. He’d bought you more trinkets, and another set to gift to your mother when you returned home. You found it incredibly sweet, but of course, Kiyoomi only grumbled in embarrassment when you told him about it.

By the time Kiyoomi’s arms were filled with shopping bags, the crowd began to lessen. It was getting late, yet you were in no hurry, walking at a snail’s pace along the closed roads.

Silently hoping this moment would last forever.

“Your homeland is beautiful, Your Highness.”

“Thank you,” he said, and his brows furrowed deep in thought – as if hesitating. “They end tonight’s celebration with a Lantern Lighting Ceremony. Would you like to see?”

Your jaw dropped. Can this night get any better?

“I would love to!”

Since some of Kiyoomi and your security were still discreetly following, he handed them the bags before leading you away from the roads and near a lake, just beside the heart of the city. There, floating hydrangeas decorated the water, looking like it came out of a painting. Lanterns were already being lit up from where you stood – some with a rented wooden boat, and the rest content to just remaining in the concrete pavement, their hands weaved together as they mumbled themselves.

You turned to Kiyoomi in question. “It works like a birthday wish,” he explained, politely bowing to the old man who sold lanterns and match sticks. “You say your greatest desire, and then you let go of the lantern. The ancestral spirits will hear of your prayer and grant it to you.”

Doing as he said, you close your eyes. You could hear Kiyoomi lighting the match as he lit up the lantern, and you wished for more of this – more joyful, peaceful nights. It seemed like a simple wish, but with your current predicament, you had to jump at any chance of luck you could get. After all, you would have to leave Itachiyama someday. Your life wasn’t always going to be like this – of dances, of candied apples, of lighting lanterns and simply feeling alive. Because you knew once you returned home, reality would set in. So you prayed, and desperately wished, to experience happiness.

Satisfied, you cracked your eyes open, beaming at how the golden lantern burned even brighter in Kiyoomi’s large hands. Seriously, his hands were so big and his fingers long he almost encompassed the entire paper globe. However, he only had his eyes on you, his expression somber and lips tight – almost as if he knew you had wished for something impossible, and he, too, wanted your wish to come true.

“Did you wish for anything?”

“No.” He shook his head, “I already have everything I could need. The farmers need the prayers more than I do.” Again, you were stunned by the Prince’s thoughtfulness. He turned to you to ask if you were ready to let go of the lantern, and you nodded, the both of you watching as it soared up high in the sky – the dark night decorated with a hundred little lanterns like stars rising from the lake.

It was pure magic.

“Whatever it is you wished for,” Kiyoomi mumbled, “I hope it will come true.”

Your lips wobbled. “I hope so too.”

He nodded, feeling awkward once more, and you nearly laughed. The Prince clearly wasn’t great at dealing with genuine emotions. “Are you tired? We can return home already.”

“I’d like to walk on the way back to the car. I don’t want the night to end just yet.”

Kiyoomi wasn’t against your idea. You shared the silence in peace, gratitude and pure, unabashed happiness blooming from within your chest. You suddenly missed your mother; wishing you could’ve taken her with you. She would’ve loved it here. She would shamelessly do the Harvesting Dance with your father, because they were still enamored with one another even after years of marriage. They were the reason you believed in true love and hoped to have it for yourself. But alas, fate had different plans for you.

It had made you fall in love with the wrong person and made you a Princess in the aftermath.

Sneaking a glance at Kiyoomi, you noticed he’d already taken off his mask. His handsome features were bathed in the moonlight, making him look even more ethereal than he already was. His features, strong, and dark, and sharp, yet his lips were curved so softly, his dark eyes nothing but tender and patient.

He held none of the malice or greed the other Princes had.

“Do you enjoy being Prince, Your Highness?” you blurted after a while, because talking seemed to be the better option than ogling at his beauty. No, you couldn’t do that. You were both married to someone else – and you would rather lose your title than be unfaithful like Rintaro.

Rintaro. Just the thought of his name soured your mood.

“Not quite,” he admitted, “It isn’t as grand as it sounds. There are lots of things to do, and a myriad of rules to follow. But I still think this responsibility bestowed on me is an honor. After all, not everyone has the privilege to be born with a purpose. Many people spend the rest of their lives looking for it, but mine was handed in a silver platter.”

“Hm. I never thought of it that way. I… I always thought you hated being Prince.”

“I do not despite it, but neither do I like it.”

“What would you be doing, then, if you were born as a commoner?”

He side eyed you, a hint of a smile appearing on his face. “Farming.”

You both laughed. Of course that was his answer. “Why am I not surprised by that?”

“What about you?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and briefly glancing at the fat, extravagant ring on your finger. The sight of it made him wince, but he schooled his face into impassiveness before you could think about it. In return, you searched for his wedding ring too, frowning upon the realization he hadn’t worn it. “What would you be doing if you hadn’t married my brother?”

“Hmm… Managing the household… learning the business, although if you ask me, I really would have wanted to get married, regardless if it was to a royal or not. In fact, I never even dreamt of being a Princess. It just never seemed to be possible for me.”

“You’re a great Princess,” he commended, and that warmth blooming in your chest had fully sparked. “Who would you have married, then?”

“Anyone who loved me and cherished me,” you scrunched up your nose, feeling bashful. “I am quite the simpleton, aren’t I?”

“There is nothing wrong with wanting simple things.”

His words held nothing but sincerity. Coming from a Prince who didn’t indulge in the lavishness he could have with his life, and opted for farming instead, you believed him. And it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulder, like a breath you’d been holding had been released. Kiyoomi was like a breath of fresh air. He was so different from his brothers – so detached from the crown, yet so connected to the world and its humble gifts. Kita was different, too, but he held a sharp edge to him. He wielded his intelligence and knowledge like a weapon, because living anywhere near the throne was a battle in itself, but Kiyoomi was just… different.

In a world of polished gems, he shone brightly as a raw diamond.

“Your Highness, I… I know most of royal marriages are arranged, and rarely does it happen out of love, but why Iris? You are the second Prince. Anyone of you could have had anyone you wanted, and Iris didn’t seem wealthy or influential enough to be a royal spouse candidate. Why her?”

“Because she’s from Itachiyama.”

“That’s it?”

Kiyoomi licked his lips, thinking about his answer before he spoke them. “You are aware I’m the only son with a foreign mother. When I was born, they saw potential in me, to possibly unite the two territories into one again. But I was aloof, and liked to keep to myself, so I lacked in that department. When Iris had been presented to the Queen by her mother and they pledged their loyalty to the throne, she was made a royal scholar,” he glanced at you, gauging for your reaction. “You are right that she isn’t anyone’s first choice to be a Prince’s wife. She comes from a common family with nothing to her name. But she is intelligent, and she has always shown dedication to the throne. That was enough to convince the Queen we were the most sensible pair.”

“And is it working? Are we being united to your homeland?”

“No. Iris has barely stepped foot in Itachiyama,” This time, Kiyoomi turned away from you and licked his lips. “She mostly does work at the Palace.”

“Because Rintaro is there?”

“Precisely.” You knew he would answer that, but the image popping in your head was unkind – of Iris and Rintaro making love to one another while you weren’t around.

“Do you love her? Or hold affection for her, in the very least?”

“Not at all. I never wanted to marry, and my opinion of her hasn’t changed since we married,” the determination in his voice surprised you, a hardness settling over his features. “Royal marriages are always done with a political purpose, Princess. It was, and never will be, out of love.”

The conversation died at that. You didn’t press further, either, because you knew Kiyoomi hadn’t said those words to hurt you. He only meant to remind you. And you were thankful, because he chose to be honest, albeit cruelly, when everyone else made you a fool – a weak fool who had to be fed lies because people believed you wouldn’t be able to stomach the truth. Perhaps they were right, perhaps you were weak, but Kiyoomi didn’t look at you like that. He only looked at you like he despised everyone for even lying, or keeping secrets, and he’d made it his mission to be truthful.

Truly, your unexpected friendship with the Prince had been the greatest gift.

“Thank you for the lovely evening, Your Highness,” you bowed to him, quite ready to retreat back into the guest room once you’d reached his farmhouse.

“It was my pleasure,” he returned the bow, yet remained frozen at the bottom of the staircase, tongue darting out to lick at his lower lip nervously. “Oh, and Princess? Would you… come and like to meet my horses tomorrow? I think you would like them.”

Somehow, the thought of Kiyoomi introducing his horses to you, and nerding out about them, put a smile on your face. Getting to know the Princes was like unwrapping a gift – you never know if you would like what was inside. But you most definitely liked Kiyoomi, and you remained true to your word that you would learn everything about him. His horses, his history, the contents of his heart, and every inch of his farmhouse and barn if he would let you.

“I would love to.”

You couldn’t stop tossing and turning in your bed.

Today’s events still played on your mind like a loop. The festivities, the freedom that came with anonymity, the connection of the citizens to their culture and history – you realized they were so different from Inarizaki. Inarizaki had its great parts, too, like their dedication to the monarchy and the power they held. It was a country known for having many scholars as the academe was greatly funded by the monarchs, but somehow it always felt… detached. Detached from nature, detached from the basic aspects of humanity.

Inarizaki cared about greatness, and so did its people. It was the sole reason why they had such strict customs and adhered to the law like their life depended on it. Itachiyama was different. They weren’t the most advanced – their buildings not as tall, their country mostly surrounded by beaches or forests, with their people preferring the old ways. Yet somehow, you felt more at home here.

It reminded you of Greenville and summers spent chasing dragonflies and lying on the grass to sunbathe.

It reminded you of a childhood long gone.

Sighing to yourself, you slipped out of the covers. The clock read it was just quarter past two am. Kiyoomi’s staff were already asleep, and you were certain each footstep you took would cause the floorboards to creak. Still, there was only so little you could do in your room. The TV didn’t have cable, Kiyoomi wasn’t interested in having Wi-Fi, and the place was rather empty of anything that could entertain you.

Surely a little exploring wouldn’t hurt, though. Slipping your arms into your robe, you tied it around your waist and exited your room. The hallways were dark and empty, and you held your breath, tiptoeing around the halls. You didn’t know why you were so nervous to be caught. It wasn’t like you were doing something wrong, although you did look suspicious turning every knob and groaning when none opened.

What was the point of all these rooms if you couldn’t enter them?

Walking around, you studied every bit of Kiyoomi’s farmhouse. It was grand in size, and nothing about the chandeliers and marble floors were the least bit modest, but it felt homey. There were knick-knacks everywhere, messy childhood paintings and poorly drawn stick-figures hung up on the wall. Upon closer look, you saw Tobio and Tooru scribbled upon the drawings. Smiling to yourself, you took it all greedily – the lack of family pictures replaced by these artworks, the fresh flowers with Kanami’s name tagged on a card lovingly taken care of, and a single portrait of Kanami with a younger Kiyoomi on her lap.

You could imagine how once in the past, the brothers spent many nights in this house, ran around chasing each other with their high-pitched squeals.

They were boys before they became Princes.

They were brothers before they were rivals.

Your hands reached out for the drawings. Even Shinsuke’s was there, and to no one’s surprise, his was the best. The colors were always within the lines, and he had clean, smooth strokes of his brush. Keiji’s was second best, but his looked more like scribbles and sketches than a polished end result. Ushijima didn’t have any drawings, but a certain stick figure drawing from a little Tobio counted eight brothers holding hands. ‘Brothers forever’, he scrawled underneath, causing your heart to ache.

He hadn’t included Rintaro in the picture.

Letting go of the drawings with a frown, you took a step back and collided with something solid. You gasped, a scream nearly torn out your throat when you studied the figure now standing in front of you. Broad shouldered, with unruly curls surrounding his face, and his head tilted to the side in confusion – Prince Kiyoomi looked like a dream come true. One shouldn’t look this ethereal in the dark hallways of his house, with nothing but the moonlight slipping through the glass windows illuminating the sharpness of his cheekbones.

He stood so still and quiet you couldn’t hear him breathe. Had he been here for a while?

You placed a hand to calm your racing heart. “Your Highness. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d still be awake.”

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, looking past you and to the drawings just as his brows pinched together. “I didn’t know you’d be awake, too. Is your room not to your liking?”

“Oh, no, no, it is. I’m just…”

“Feeling homesick?”

“Not quite,” you scrunched your nose, “Today was just amazing. I’m still reeling from the joy of it all.”

He nodded, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. You watched him have an inner debate before he nodded again, gesturing to the staircase. “Follow me. There’s something I’d like to show you.”

The Prince led you to the hallway where his room and Kanami’s was located whenever she visited. At the end of the hall stood two grand double doors that could only be opened by a key from his pocket. The doors squeaked as it open, and you both coughed as dust fluttered through the space. Clearly, it hadn’t been used in a while, but that mattered little when he switched on the lights. Rows upon rows of books stood tall enough to nearly hit the ceiling. The room had a dome-shaped structure, with the walls carved in to make more spaces as bookshelves. In the middle sat a velvet red couch with a wooden table decorated with a vase of flowers. However, it wasn’t the books that took your breath away – it was the grand spiraling chandelier that slowly flickered to life like candles being lit, bathing the room in a warm, soothing light.

Unable to help yourself, you stepped inside, jaw dropped at the beauty of it all.

“This is my library.”

“This is marvelous,” you chuckled out, breathily, running your fingers over the spines of the books. They were covered in dust, but otherwise in pristine conditions. Most of them were classic collections too – the types of books you would only find in antique shops. And was that an official journal from an ancient royal? You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. This couldn’t be just a personal collection – these had to be an official record room.

“Are these all yours?”

“Some of it were my father’s. His Majesty liked to read.”

You glanced at Kiyoomi from under your lashes. He stood at an arm’s length away from you, casually leaning against the bookshelf whilst you pull out a random book. The Anthology of the First King, it read.

“You’re the first Prince who ever spoke of him.”

Kiyoomi’s gaze flittered over yours, from your fingers caressing the ancient book delicately, to the way a smile graced your face upon inhaling that addicting old book smell. His voice, if possible, grew quieter. “I know my brothers all dislike him, and I don’t blame them,” he continued, “But His Majesty raised me as best as he could. It may have been because of the power I could wield as a foreigner, but he came here often. He was the reason I grew up with a fondness for books.”

You hadn’t heard of that before. As far as you knew, the late King seemed absent in all of his son’s lives, but then again, the royal family had always been a complexity.

Turning away from the historical section, you beamed at the Prince. “Well, this is quite an impressive collection. His Majesty has taste.”

Kiyoomi fought back a smile. The gesture shouldn’t have looked as adorable as it did, and now you were fighting back a smile, too. You liked him this way – you like him much better here in Itachiyama. Whenever he was at the Palace, you could see the walls he surrounded himself with, how he closed himself from the world. But here? Here, he was just a man eager to talk about the things he loved, and you eagerly followed him when he gestured you to.

“This is my section,” he pointed to a rack spanning from floor to ceiling, then to the shelves next to it. “And that is Tooru’s. The one at the back is Keiji’s.”

Tooru’s section was… surprising, to say the least. He had all of Shakespeare’s books, with a multitude of romance and tragedy novels. His books looked to be the most loved out of everything you’d seen – with cracked spines, folded paper edges, and annotations on the pages. “Tooru’s? These are all romance novels.”

“It may be hard to believe, but he is a hopeless romantic,” Kiyoomi snickered, “Keiji, on the other hand, loves to read historical fiction. And don’t tell him I told you this, but he wrote three of these books here.”

“He’s a writer?!”

“A splendid one,” he boasted, pulling out a book titled The Fall of Belle. “He wrote this about Belleview Manor when he was eighteen. Belleview was notorious for housing the most, er, complicated royals, you see. He was inspired by it and turned it to a kingdom, writing something about soldiers and poets and kings. It’s a really good novel. I highly recommend you read it.”

Kiyoomi was already shoving Keiji’s novels into your arms before you could say anything. Next to Keiji’s was Shinsuke’s collection – unsurprisingly again, were mostly textbooks. The Itachiyaman Law, the Governance, the History of Inarizaki, The Fall of the Union. You weren’t too interested, so you moved onto the next shelves and blinked back at what you saw.

Beside you, the Prince cleared his throat in an attempt to hold back a smile. “That is Tobio’s section.”

“These are… balls.”

Instead of books placed on the shelves, they were balls, all held up carefully by expensive looking holders. Each one of them had signatures written on them with markers, along with a tag underneath of several dates. “Volleyballs, yes. He had these signed by his favorite players, and those are the dates of the matches,” he explained, slowly moving behind you until you could feel the heat radiating off of him. Looking up at the Prince, you saw he wasn’t looking at you, but rather at the sports equipment with what seemed like fondness, and regret, in his eyes.

“He’s always loved playing sports as a child. He was rather good at it, too. Shame he couldn’t go pro.”

“Because he’s a Prince?”

Kiyoomi nodded. “He may be the youngest, but that doesn’t mean he’s freed from his duties. The Queen knows the kingdom loves him so she has quite a grand plan for Tobio to start tours by himself and see if he’d be more successful in establishing connections with others,” shaking his head, the Prince closed his eyes. “He may marry soon, too.”

“He’s too young to be married.”

“He isn’t that young, but I know what you mean,” he said, “Although I think Tobio will find it the hardest to marry out of every one of us.”

“Why so?”

Kiyoomi shrugged. “He’s a romantic. Not like Tooru in the sense that he would recite Shakespeare’s sonnet to seduce a woman he likes, but in the sense that he still innocently believes he can marry someone of his choosing. That’d only work if she was a noblewoman, though. Otherwise he might experience the same fate as Shinsuke.”

Ah. Shinsuke and his maid – a tragedy in the making.

You looked away from Kiyoomi. Shuffling the books in your arms, you shuffled to the lone seat in the room and plopped down on it, wincing when your arms ached from the weight. “You know a lot about your brothers.”

“I’ve spent a long time watching them,” he confessed, and the sofa dipped beside you. He leant back against it, his long legs crossing over the other as he tilted his head back, watching what little he could of the stars visible from the dome-like ceiling. “It wasn’t always like this. There was a point in our lives we used to be closer and didn’t care too much about the throne.”

“Who were you closest with?”

“Tooru and Keiji. They both loved reading, and so did I. I wasn’t very close with the younger ones because they were rambunctious, especially the twins. But I like Tobio a lot,” he smiled, albeit sadly. “I hope the crown never fails him. I would do anything to ensure he stays unaffected by the harshness of it.”

“He’s a precious boy,” you agreed, and then thought back to the drawings in Kiyoomi’s living room. Biting your lip, you suddenly stood up and headed for the last shelf at the end of the room. Silently hoping, wishing, it was Rintaro’s section. Behind you, you heard the Prince shuffle on his feet as he followed you around. “And… Rintaro? Were you close with him back then, too?”

You already expected the answer, but it didn’t disappoint you any less when you heard it.

“No. The Queen always kept him isolated. I rarely saw him growing up, but on the few times I did, he always looked like he wanted to play with us. He wasn’t allowed, though. Her Majesty was… eerily wary of him getting too close with his brothers,” Kiyoomi let on, his handsome face contorting to that of discomfort when you blankly stared at him. Then, his ears reddened, and he coughed out of nowhere, his large palm covering his mouth. “I fear I may have talked too much. Please, look around. I’m sure you’ll find something you’ll like.”

Happy to do so, you left no inch and corner of the library unturned. Tooru had the most interesting collection with his romance novels, but you found Keiji’s section to be the most curious. A moment later, you had a dozen books stacked on top of each other at the nearby table. You just wanted one more – a book about Tobio’s favorite sport so you could ask the sweet Prince about it when you returned home.

Unfortunately, the first five rows of Tobio’s shelf consisted of his signed volleyballs, and his books sat at the top ones. You had to stand on your tiptoes, only for your fingers to barely graze the spine of it. Damn it. Taking your slippers off, you bunched your nightgown and robe in your hand and used your free arm to hoist yourself up. Your feet landed on the wooden boards of the shelf as you struggled to reach for A Dummy’s Guide to Volleyball when your foot slipped.

The ground disappeared beneath you.

Gravity consumed you as you fell, the book you’d been reaching for sliding out of its place and nearly knocking into your forehead. But it never came. Your face never smacked the ground, and your bum seemed safe, too. Instead, strong arms wrapped around your waist until you landed on a hard body with an ‘oof’, the breath knocked out of your windpipe.

Kiyoomi groaned underneath you.

Gasping, you realized you’d accidentally elbowed him in the chest. The poor prince had turned red in the face as he struggled to breathe, and you hoisted yourself up to move yourself out of the way, realizing a little too late how little you wore. Or how thin your nightgown was. Or how you didn’t wear a bra to sleep and forgot to wear one when you left the room, and now your hardened nipples were brushing against his chest. Underneath you, Kiyoomi inhaled in sharply, his dark eyes darting from your cleavage and to the books – the movement so fast you wondered if he had whiplash.

You froze. This was… quite a predicament to be in.

If you slid your body upward, your lace panties would brush against his crotch. If you slid yourself downwards, you’d graze your sensitive nipples on his silk blouse. But if you slid sideways, that would mean you had to rise your upper body to get your knees to stop straddling him, and he’d have an even closer view of your breasts.

In conclusion, nothing would work.

“Let me, just, uh, move,” the Prince groaned beneath you, and you nodded fervently. He could do whatever he wanted at this point as long as it meant you’d both be separated. However, luck was not on his side either. As soon as the Prince gripped your hips to lift you off of him, his hips rose on instinct, accidentally thrusting into you.

The Prince stopped breathing, and so did you.

Within the blink of an eye, the Prince had torn you off his body – and he was suddenly at the other side of the room. Color drained from his face just as his skin from the neck down blistered red, the poor Prince snatching a nearby book to hide the growing tent in his pants.

“My apologies,” he blurted out, looking at everywhere but you. “I didn’t – I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” standing up, you dusted yourself off and wobbled on your feet. Great. Your legs felt weak, and your voice didn’t come out as confident and composed as you liked it to be. Rather, you were both breathless – and you couldn’t tell if it was from the adrenaline, or the delicious way his body molded to yours.

A pleasure you would not be thinking of. Ever. Again.

“Uhm. Thank you. Your library is really nice.”

The Prince nodded, taking his lips between his teeth. “I should, uh. I should go.”

“Yes, that might be for the best,” you croaked out, and just like that, the Prince was gone. The heavy slamming of the doors was the last thing you heard before you were engulfed in a deafening silence.

That night, you did not get any sleep at all.

And you were restless for all the wrong reasons.

[temporarywelcome]

Jezebel - James Patrick March

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Being in an arranged marriage with James March, but he's already completely smitten with his new wife, despite the fact he knows she plans on killing him. Hey, it's kind of hot.

WARNINGS: some swearing, some violence, death, sexual implications but no smut

A/N: they're so Gomez and Morticia. They match each other's freak. Yes, I used the vows from the Corpse Bride.

___________

James March was a very interesting man.

The way he carried himself as if he had no care in the world was enticing. He radiated confidence and grace, and was, well, an overall attractive man. 

And he was to be her husband. A fiance she never even met till tonight. 

It was 1923, a time where this “dating” thing was becoming popular, yet here the two of them were, meeting three weeks before their planned wedding. March was slowly becoming wealthier and wealthier, but his mother demanded he be wed, with a woman to take care of his estate while he did his business. Someone to care for him when she would eventually meet her own unfortunate demise. 

And so his mother found Y/N L/N, a pure beauty that many men oggled over obsessively. She was young, single, and his mother just could sense the compatibility when she saw Y/N’s lovely picture. Her son would love this girl. 

Except there was more to Y/N than meets the eye. 

Sitting at the dinner table, James eyed her in curiosity. “Did you come here from a funeral, darling?” he asked cheekily, his usual charming grin etched onto his face.

She looked up from her plate, raising a perfectly penciled in brow, “Why yes, actually,” 

He scratched the back of his neck, not expecting that answer. He had just meant to make a light-hearted joke about her attire: the long, ruffled black dress and hat to match in color, adorned with black and burgundy feathers. To accompany the clothing were sleek black gloves, lace along the wrist area. “Oh dear, my apologies. I hope I have not offended you.”

“No no,” she waved a hand dismissively, “It was not for anyone I knew,”

“Oh?” Now he was intrigued, taking a sip of his wine, the same color of her plump lips, “Then why would you attend such an event?”

“Death excites me,” she replied, and he was sure he had fallen in love right then and there, “As well as I find grief interesting to no end,”

“Interesting?” the man asked, smitten beyond compare, “What is so interesting about grief, my dear?”

Her lips curled into a devious smile, “How everyone grieves differently. Some cry, others laugh, some don’t give a damn. What I find the most hilarious is people establishing relationships. At a funeral of all places!”

“Horrid indeed isn’t it?” he asked with a chuckle. 

“It is! A splendid horror!” Y/N nodded in agreement. 

March watched as she expertly cracked open a crab leg, impressed in her abilities to do so without juices exploding everywhere. “You’re a stunning woman, you know?”

She looked at him from her meal and that devious smirk appeared once again, “And you’re a very handsome man, Mr. March,”

“Tell me, dearest, how old are you? Have you ever wed before?”

It looked like she had to think about it, which March thought nothing of at the time, already completely smitten. “Twenty-eight,” she replied, “And yes, I have,” 

“You have? And what had become of that marriage?”

“All three were tragedies,” she replied, bringing a piece of crab to her mouth with a fork. Three?! “I’ve sadly been widowed three times. A black widow, you might call me.” 

Three marriages that ended in the death of her spouse? March doubted this was any bit coincidental. “What an unfortunate event! On all three accounts! How did these poor souls die?” 

“Ah, all different ways. My first had a heart attack. The second, I still think to be my true love, committed suicide. Not because of me, of course, as he explained why in his letter. The third, he… he was tragically murdered one night,” 

Oh how intriguing of a woman she was! March asked, “Murdered! In what way?” 

“His throat was slashed,” she answered, “And he was drained of his blood.” Y/N then took a sip of her wine, not at all bothered by the fact. 

James March smirked, placing his chin on his palm as he stared at her. Oh, how infatuated he was. He was sure those death were not as she said they were. He was sure she had something to do with it. 

And he was sure as hell that if he married her, he would be her next target.

Oh, what a lovely woman he was so willing to marry!

________

The next three weeks went by in a blur. 

Y/N would wake up to endless gifts being left at her door: trinkets, jewels, flowers, heels, silk gloves, anything a woman could dream of. He would call her on the telephone at five p.m. every day just before dinner, and for those three Fridays he would take her on lavish dinners and dates. 

He went above and beyond for the woman he knew surely wanted to kill him. 

It was now the morning of the wedding, and Y/N’s telephone rang. She curiously went to it, grabbing the device and bringing it to her ear. Grabbing the other part in her unoccupied hand, she spoke into it: “Hello?”

“Hello, my dearest, I am thrilled to hear your beautiful voice this morning. It reminds me of sweet honey: smooth and-”

“James?” she interrupted him, “Why are you calling this early?”

James laughed lightly, “Because today is our wedding day, my love. I cannot call you at five p.m. because at five p.m. you will be in my welcoming arms! Are you excited?”

“I’m trembling in desire, darling,” she replied, “I must attend to my wedding preparations,”

“You will look absolutely ravishing, my sweet. Oh, how I adore you. I will leave you to your duties, anxiously waiting to wed my beautiful bride.” 

“I will see you very soon, my handsome king,” Y/N said, “Goodbye,” She hung up the two parts of the telephone and set it back down, preparing herself for her big day.

Her fourth big day. 

The stylists got to work, putting her hair in rollers, painting her nails a shiny jet black, carefully applying her dramatic makeup. She went for walks all done out, she wasn’t going to be caught slacking on her on wedding.

Fourth wedding. 

That James March knew of.

“How long do you plan on keeping this one for?” her loyal servant, Ms. Barnes, asked, blowing on the nail polish adorning Y/N’s fingernails. “He’s a handsome one.” 

Y/N thought for a moment, “I’m unsure. He is actually… sweet.” 

“And rich,” said another servant, Ms. Michaels, busying herself with Y/N’s hair. 

“So was her second,” Ms. Barnes pointed out, “And he lasted three months.”

“His riches are not of importance to me,” Y/N told her servants, “I do not need a man’s riches when I have my own,”

“How true, Ms. L/N,” Ms. Barned nodded in agreement, “There is no point in having men if it isn’t for one’s own entertainment.”

_________

This was marked the best day of James Patrick March’s short life. 

He stood at the alter adjusting his bow tie with the biggest grin a man could have as he waited for his beautiful bride to grace the audience with her presence. Practically the entirety of Chicago came to the celebration of their love, rows upon rows of guests laid out before him as he anxiously waited.

And then she came down the aisle, the orchestra expertly playing the familiar tune of Here Comes the Bride as she took each step. She didn’t just want an organ player, she wanted the whole deal. The organ, violins, a beautiful symphony as she had her big moment. And of course, James was quick to make the arrangement for his beloved. 

She was an absolute beauty, in a large dress that took up most of the aisle’s width. Black and lacey, with tiered ruffles, off the shoulder to show off her soft shoulders. Her veil was also black lace, partially covering her face, the back half dozens of feet long. His fiance was a maximalist, and he made sure she was about to get an equally maximalist wedding. 

The wedding went as planned. When it was James’ turn to do his vows, he raised his hand as previously instructed during the practice, “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” he raised his chalice, “Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine,” he poured the red wine into the glass. Red as her lips. Her signature color. He placed down the chalice, grabbing a lighter for the candle that was in front of him, “With this candle, I will light your way in darkness,” Finally, he grabbed her ring, the blood ruby shining in the light of the candle, “With this ring, I ask you to be mine,” he slid it onto her slender finger before pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles. 

Y/N perfectly recited the vows as well, slipping the ring onto his finger. They then took their glasses and took a sip of the sweet wine, before finally, sharing a kiss to seal the deal. James carefully moved her veil, revealing the face of the seductress that had his heart. His arms went around her as he leaned in, kissing her with all of the passion in him.

They were now wed. 

The wedding activities soon began, the newly weds beginning their first dance. James brought an arm around her waist, pulling her close as they began to dance, “You look absolutely stunning, darling, you have impeccable taste of fashion,”

“Hm,” she replied with a smirk, “I think I have upset quite a few with the color of my dress,”

“To hell with them. All of them, jealous of your immense beauty,” said March, pressing a kiss to her jaw, “I just might be the luckiest man in this room. Such a dazzling woman I have in my embrace,” with a smirk, he whispered in her ear, “I could just die from excitement,” 

_________

The next few months went by in a blur.

James March made sure to treat Y/N like a queen, spoiling her beyond compare. He knew she wanted to kill him, but did not say a word. She knew about his special new hobby. She didn’t say anything either. 

Once the fifth month passed, Ms. Barnes, who was diligently doing Y/N’s hair, said: “I think we have ourselve’s a record. Five months, the longest you have kept a husband.” 

She hummed in response, lighting a cigarette, “Correct. The longest. I have not become bored of him just yet.”

“Well, he’s not a boring man, Mrs. March,” Ms. Michaels mused, “He treats you like gold,”

“That he does,” Y/N said in agreement, a satisfied look on her face, “I don’t think any of my ex-husbands have treated me this well. It is quite… refreshing,”

“You don’t have to kill him, you know?” Ms. Barnes told her, “You’re allowed to find happiness,” 

“But, Ms. Barnes, that is what gives me happiness,” she shrugged, taking a long puff of her cig, “There is just something so wonderful about…. Watching the life… leave their eyes,” she smiled sweetly, sighing in joy at the thought, “However, I quite like James alive. Perhaps I would need a new fix.” 

Over the past few years (124, to be exact), Y/N had a cycle. She would tease herself, almost edge herself by only drinking the blood of animals to quench her thirsts, marry a man, and once she couldn’t handle it anymore, kill him. Usually in some fun, intricate way. Then she would feast on his blood until he was completely dry.

It was a fun game that has kept her satisfied for decades already.

Until now.

The thought of killing James March didn’t sound right to her anymore.

“We have a ball today,” she told her servants, “I’m sure I will find someone of use for the night,” 

James had vowed to make two days of October the biggest spectacle of Chicago. October 30th, his birthday, which he named Devil’s Night, because he was dramatic like that. The day that came after was Y/N’s birthday, October 31st, Halloween, which very much fit her. 

So not only was Devil’s Night a huge celebration, but so was Halloween, the night of James March’s beloved. 

There was a soft knock on the door, and James entered the room, “My love! You look ravishing,” he practically pushed through the two servants, placing his hands on her shoulders, placing a few kisses along her neck, “Absoutely stunning, dear,” he then pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“James! You’ll mess up my makeup!”

“No matter, just reapply it. I’ll always buy you more,” James replied smugly, kissing her cheek again, “My beautiful wife. Happy birthday again. I feel my present for you would look lovely with your dress,” He glanced at Ms. Barnes and Ms. Michaels, “Shoo shoo,” he waved them off.

“Behave,” Y/N deadpanned. 

“My apologies, dearest,” he said, though he obviously didn’t give a damn, “I just can’t wait to get you alone,” he nipped at her neck. Noticing the warning look in her eyes, he laughed, pulling away, “Fine fine, evil woman. Close your eyes while I give you your gift!”

Y/N smirked lightly, closing her eyes as her husband took out her gift. Obviously a necklace, feeling him place it along her neck, the large jewels cascading down her chest. He fastened the clasp, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck, “Open your eyes, darling,” 

Her eyes opened, and she smiled in pleasant surprise. Of course, the necklace was adorned in huge diamonds, he was never cheap when it came to his beloved. “Oh, James, it’s wonderful!” she said, meeting his gaze through the mirror, “Thank you,”

“Ah, anything for you, my dear,” James smirked, squeezing her shoulders from behind, “My beautiful wife.” he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear fondly, “We could always be late to the party,” he said suggestively.

“Late? To my own party? I think not,” Y/N stood up, laughing at the pout on her husband’s lips, “Don’t fret, dear, I will be all yours when the night ends.” she promised, arms going around his neck as she stared into his dark, dark eyes, “But for now you must wait,” she stuck out her tongue, teasingly grazing his earlobe.

“You naughty girl,” James said in excitement, gripping her hips, ‘You Jezebel you,” 

She giggled seductively, “All for you, my dear,” 

Oh, she did not want to kill him. Not at all. 

And so they left the room and made way to the grand spiral staircase. The couple stopped at the top, James releasing her hand, “Stay here, darling, let me introduce the star of the night!” he made the descent down each step until he stood at the bottom gathering the attention of the guests scattered all throughout their grand home. He introduced his wife, holding out a hand to her as she made her way down the steps.

Each step was careful and precise (like usual, her dress was huge), radiating confidence as she greeted her guests. Y/N took her husband’s hand, allowing him to bring her close.

The night festivities went as planned, Y/N certainly enjoying the effort her husband took into making sure her birthday went perfectly. He always went above and beyond for her, always seeking her approval. He was completely devoted.

After a while, Y/N purposely got separated from him in search of someone. A victim. If she wasn’t going to kill her husband, she had to kill someone else. She was tired of teasing herself.

It didn’t take her long to find some stupid man, some lawyer named George. He was quick to get handsy with her, so she led him off to one of the many guest rooms. He was desperately ripping at her dress, which she loosened up with an eye roll. 

God she wasn’t in the mood for this. 

She pinned him down to the bed, glaring at him darkly, tongue darting out to lick her lips. He was annoying. He didn’t have that sexy drawl like her husband. Those dark but comforting brown eyes. Those hands fit perfectly on her hips.

It wouldn’t matter to her if this man died. 

And with a smirk, she raised a hand, each finger covered by a claw-like ornament, a gift from her loving husband, of course. He said it “fit her style”.

He was so right.

She let her index finger run along his chest, then slowly his throat, leaving goosebumps along the trembling skin, until with a swift motion, she swiped her finger, swiped the claw, and his throat was slit. Buying her face into his neck, she lapped up the sweet flavor of his blood. 

Finally, she needed this.

As she hungrily drank, the door opened. 

“Oh, dearest, whatever are you doing?”

Y/N shot up, head snapping in the direction of James March. Her husband. However, he didn’t seem terrified. Or pissed. 

He simply laughed, arms going around her from behind, “My love is either a lunatic or a vampire. Or both.” he gripped the ribbons of her dress, tightening her corset to fix it, “I must say… It’s rather sexy.”

And so began a new dynamic.

James took it upon himself to do the dirty work. His wife should never get those soft hands dirty. 

And so he did the killing, and she would watch, with a look of approval on her face. He would then take her hand and help her out of her chair and towards the body, admiring how she looked as she drank the man dry. 

“That was supposed to be me, wasn't it?” He asked during one of their little “sessions”. “You wanted to drain me of my blood.”

She wiped her face with the back of her hand and she glanced up at him, “possibly.”

“It's alright, my dear, I take no offense,” he laughed, grabbing a cloth to clean off his knife. “I must have earned the right to live, huh?”

She smirked up at him, “not many would do this for their wives,”

And their dynamics continued. He killed, she ate, they had hot sex after.

And it worked well. 

James ended up building a grand hotel, all of Chicago raving over it. The Hotel Cortez. He originally wanted to name it after Y/N, his beloved, but she herself told him that was a stupid idea. 

They spent a lot of time there, whether it was to aid guests, host events, pass time, or even pick off a few victims. 

After a while, they even began to discuss the possibility of children. James was dead set on two: a boy (named James March JR, of course), and a girl (named after you, of course).

Y/N made it clear she found that to be extremely boring. Just naming the children after themselves? How cliche.

Pretty much every night after basically rearranging her organs, he would lay with her and yap and yap and yap about how it's important for them to continue their legacies, and then he yaps some more about if the baby inherits her thirst for blood if it would be immortal and all these different questions.

They were planning for the future, until disaster struck.

A peaceful day in the hotel, James having his lovely wife in his embrace as he spoke to patrons. She went off on her own duties after a while, until meeting with James again in one of the rooms.

Something was wrong.

Once he saw her, he rushed to her and gave her a rough kiss, cupping her cheeks with such urgency, “My love….” He whispered, “someone ratted me out. Someone knew.”

“Whatever do you mean?” she whispered, hands going to his wrists as she looked up at him, “You mean…?”

“Yes, our little hobby,” March brought her against his chest, an arm around her waist, a hand raking through her hair, “Oh how I hope it wasn’t you who told. Don’t even tell me, I would be devastated,” he sighed, resting his chin on the top of her head. 

“No, James,” she replied in a quiet tone, “I did not tell anyone. You know I love you.” She pulled away slightly to look up at him, “If I wanted you gone, you know I would have killed you myself.”

A soft smile reached her husband's lips as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Always the loyal wife. I adore you, my dear.” There was a hint of genuine sadness in his tone as he held her close. “Will you be the one to finish me?”

Y/N shook her head right away, “No!” she pulled away completely, “No, I won't. You've been the only husband I've loved. I can't…. I can't kill you.”

With another sad smile, he held her again, “I understand, dearest. Just… stay with me while I do it? Please?”

This couldn't be happening. It really couldn't.

But she nodded, face buried in his chest, “Yes… I'll stay with you,”

“Thank you, my love,” he sighed, kissing the top of her head. He held her for a moment before pulling away and taking her hand, sitting down. There was a knife on the table and he shakily grabbed it. “This won't be the first throat I slash,” he tried to joke, but it came out flat. James squeezed her hand as he brought the knife to his throat, but his wife speedily stopped him.

“I'll…. I'll do it,” she gulped out, trembling hand taking the knife from him and placing it back on the table.

“Are you sure? You don't have to, my love, I can do it myself.”

“No, no, I-I'll do it,” she repeated. Y/N seated herself on her lover's lap, arms going around his neck as she captured his lips in a desperate kiss. She could feel tears forming as she realized this would be their last kiss.

Her last kiss with the first husband she's ever loved. 

Maybe this was her punishment for all of her terrible deeds. The universe taking away the one man she ever truly loved. 

As they continued to kiss, she brought her clawed index finger to his throat, fingers trembling the closer she got. She pulled away from the kiss, “R-Ready?”

Despite everything, he smiled. “I'm ready, darling.” he pressed his forehead against hers, “I will always be with you,” 

And with that, she slashed his throat.

Y/N let out a soft cry watching the life quickly leave his eyes, the one man she wanted to stay alive. “Oh, James…” she cupped his cheeks, kissing his lifeless lips. “I love you I love you I love you,”

She could hear loud footsteps coming up the stairs, and she knew it was time to go. She grabbed the knife, bringing it to his bloodied neck before placing it into her lover's hand.

And with that, she climbed out the window.

“I will always be with you,” the words hung in her mind as she went down the fire escape.

She didn't know he was going to keep his word, even in death. 

---------

Yall i love him. inbox is open btw

[rekino2114]

So I’ve recently fallen deeply mad in love with Ena (the blue/yellow polygon gal-) and I can’t stop thinking about her (I won’t apologize for it though she’s amazing and neat-)

If I may, can I ask for Ena x male reader where reader is hard crushing on all forms of Ena and it’s pretty obvious that he loves her, but can’t bring himself to tell her since he doesn’t know how she’ll react

You crushing on ena

Pairing:ena x male reader

A/n:You don't need to apologize. ena is indeed very awesome and cool. Sidenote but I am obsessed with the idea of ena having more forms than the ones we see so I might make a post detailing some fanmade ones I've seen around,with the reader of course let me know if you'd like that

"Come on, dude, just tell her"

"No, who knows what might happen"

You're currently talking to your friend moony about your crush on your mutual friend ena

"The worst she can say is no"

"That's a factually wrong statement for most people, but especially for ena, with how many forms she has, I might get punched in the face or she'll start crying and wallowing in self pity"

"You're such a coward, man"

"Listen, ena is like one the best friends I ever had, I can't risk losing her friendship. She's the best"

"If you don't tell her I will"

"Don't you dare-

You were interrupted by the voice of your crush approaching you

"Ah here are my two bestest friends in the entirety of this digital plane, how are you good chums?"

"Oh hey I-na me and y/n here were talking about you actually"

"Oh is that true? I hope you were spreading good word of me then"

"Oh, trust me, he definitely has~"

"SORRYINEEDTOGOBYE"

You were very embarrassed at the possibility of your crush being revealed and decided to run away from your friends while blushing

"Waaaahh y/n hates me"

Your sudden leave caused ena to glitch and turn into her sad form while crying on the ground

"I can't bwame him, evewyone should hate me, I'm howwible,howwbile, I should just die"

"Geez what a crybaby, y/n loves you like love-loves you"

"*sniffle* w-weally?"

"Yeah, dummy, you didn't know? It's sooooo obvious. He always blushes when he's near you and don't you see how he always comforts whenever you get like this? That's l-o-v-e"

After hearing her friend's words the polygonal girl stood up and went back to her normal form

"Oh such splendid news, I must go confess to y/n this instant"

"Wait, you like him too?"

"Indeed, I have had hidden feelings for him for quite a while. Whenever I'm around him, my face turns pink, and I can't help but want to fill him with compliments and physical contact, at first I didn't know what this feeling was but now I believe it is love"

"Pffffft whatever vena just leave me out of your lovey-dovey loser stuff"

"Do not fret, I will go talk to y/n now. Hopefully, the next time we meet, I will have a romantic partner"

Ena left the scene and practically teleported to where you were sitting, still embarrassed at yourself and a bit angry at moony

"E-ena, I'm really sorry for running away"

"Salutations, my dear companion, do not worry about that. Please don't stand there being unhappy, I have some splendid news I think you'll enjoy hearing"

"What is it?"

" I have an announcement:I.....believe I have feelings for you....feelings of love""

"......really?""

"Precisely, I do, every time I'm near you, I feel something beyond happiness, and with my friend moony's help, I understood that it was love"

"I-i don't know what to say ena, I love you too"

"Oh happy days, might I suggest that we enter a relationship then?"

"Of course I'd love to be your boyfriend"

Ena smiled happily before avoiding your eyes and blushing (she blushes two different colors on her two sides)

"Wonderful......could we perhaps formalize our relationship with a kiss?"

"*giggle* yes if you'd like"

You approached ena's lips and kissed her (I just realized she only has a mouth on her yellow side and doesn't really have lips....uhhh, I dunno I guess you could still kiss her like that, her anatomy is weird anyway it doesn't have to be realistic)

"That felt so so amazing, thank you so much my dear"

"You don't need to thank me, it felt great for me too"

Suddenly, ena hugged you, and you did the same. Despite her polygonal body, she actually felt very soft and nice to lean against, and so you did. You stayed like this enjoying your newfound love with your new girlfriend.

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Fanfic for @aardelea

Hi Ella! Thank you for suggesting a fanfic exchange! I hope you like the fanfic!

The original ask was for a fanfic that was "romantic with a little bit of drama because of jealousy. Like a confession with obstacles."

Fandom: Tokyo Debunker

Characters: Haku Kusanagi x Ella (can be read by anyone but this name is used a few times throughout)

Word Count: 1.4k (1,462 words)

The first time Haku tried to confess to you, he was thwarted by his own flirtatious nature.

He’d been flirting with you on and off for a while and it had never been anything more than his usual behaviour. You seemed to know that he wasn’t being sincere so he’d had no qualms about laying the teasing on thick.

But then, he had been struck by the sudden realisation that he actually cared about you far more than just a friend.

And that was where his trouble had started.

At first, he’d tried to make his flirting more genuine but that didn’t seem to work. You just reacted the same as you had with his previous teasing.

So then, he’d started initiating physical contact. If there was one thing he was sure about, it was that when someone started to initiate touch, it was their way of saying they had feelings for you. But that hadn’t worked either.

So he’d decided just to come out and confess.

He was walking you back to your dorm after class one afternoon and you were just passing by Lovers Lake when he grabbed your hand, stopping you from walking any further. There was a gentle breeze blowing and it was blowing your hair around your face.

Haku was sure you’d never looked more beautiful.

“What’s up?”

Haku took a deep breath. This was a lot harder than he’d expected. He was so used to just flirting with people and having them fall all over him. He wasn’t as experienced with actually confessing to someone. So he did what he knew best, leaning on his flirting to carry him through.

“I really like you, you know. You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever met. And that’s saying a lot, I’ve been around a lot of people.”

You smiled at him and he felt his stomach swoop. “You’re such a teaser. I really like you too.” And his heart soared. “You’re a great person to be around. I’m glad I have you as a friend.” And his heart dropped.

“No, I mean-”

“Oh, I’ve got to go! I have a late house visit with Jiro and I’ve got to get there before he does. Sorry Haku.”

Before he could reply, you had squeezed his hand once before letting go and running off. He watched you go, unsure of how to feel. He felt sure you hadn’t blown off his feelings because you didn’t like him. But he wasn’t certain if you liked him the way he liked you.

He’d have to try again.

~

The second time Haku tried to confess to you, he got interrupted by Zenji.

He had invited you on a walk when you both had some free time and you were strolling side by side across the quieter parts of campus. He had brushed his hand past yours a few times but hadn’t made any moves other than that.

Just as he was beginning to prepare himself to bring up his feelings again when he heard the first strains of a biwa nearby. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him.

“Ah, if it isn’t my dearest friends! Haku, Ella! How are you both on this fine day?”

“Oh, Zenji! Hi, how are you?”

“Splendid indeed. On a day as fair and wonderful as this, it’s hard not to be in the very best of moods.” Zenji turned his attention to Haku. There was a teasing glint in the poet’s eyes and Haku barely managed to conceal his concern. He was sure Zenji knew about the depth of his feelings towards you and, as unsuccessful as his confessions had been so far, he wanted to be the one to reveal his feelings, not Zenji.

“And how are you my dear friend? Love blooms in the air so sweetly but I fear the season is changing.”

“Well, we have to go now.” Haku grabbed your hand and began dragging you away from Zenji.

“Good to see you Zenji.” You called back. Haku felt an unpleasant twist of jealousy curl in his stomach. He knew you didn’t see Zenji that way but he couldn’t help himself from wishing you were saying that to him.

“And you Ella. Keep a clear head and an open heart and good things are sure to come your way.”

~

The third time Haku tried to confess to you, it was Subaru’s turn to interrupt.

By this stage, Haku had decided to just keep trying until he managed to get his feelings out. Until then, he was happy to just remain friends with you and keep building towards a romantic relationship.

And then the unexpected happened.

He had just got back to Hotarubi after dropping some paperwork off to Professor Moby and had walked into Subaru’s room, expecting to see the house captain having a snack or working on some project.

Instead, he saw you leaning over Subaru where he was sitting, your hands squeezing his shoulders.

The jealousy Haku had felt with Zenji burst back in full force. And he dropped his bag on the floor with a thud, drawing your attention towards him.

“Oh, Haku. Hi! I was just helping Subaru out with some knots he has in his shoulders. He’s been hunched over his desk too much recently.”

“I see. Ella, could I talk to you?” Haku’s voice was clipped but he did his best to keep his face kind.

Subaru nodded and turned his head towards you. “I’m feeling a lot better now. Thank you and sorry for taking up so much of your time.”

You smiled at him. “No problem. I’m glad I could help.”

You walked over to Haku and he followed you outside, closing the door behind him.

“What’s up? Anything I can help with?”

“I don’t like seeing you so touchy with someone else. I want to be the only one you give shoulder massages to.” He could feel a blush spreading across his cheeks but didn’t bother trying to hide it. Maybe this would finally convey his feelings.

But you just smiled and patted his shoulder. “If you ever need a massage, just let me know. I’d be more than happy to help.”

Haku smiled tiredly. How was he going to confess to you? “That sounds really nice.”

~

By the fourth time, Haku was getting desperate.

You were having lunch together, sitting side by side on a bench and talking about the content you had covered in your respective classes that morning.

“Hey, you don’t have any classes tomorrow right?” Haku had decided he had to set the scene to confess in a way you couldn't misinterpret. So he had formulated a plan. “Do you want to spend the day together? I got permission to take you off campus so we can go into the city and grab lunch.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry! Even though I don’t have classes, I’m busy all of tomorrow. I'm helping Haru feed the Jabberwock anomalies in the morning. Then I'm helping Sho out with the food truck during the lunch rush before heading across to Obscuary to hang out with Rui and Ed.”

With every name, Haku felt his jealousy rise. He knew you had the right to hang out with other people and he would never try to stop you from having a social life. But he couldn’t bear to be put to the side anymore before he was able to confess. He turned to you completely, setting his lunch to the side. He placed a hand on each of your shoulders.

“Cancel your plans. I can’t keep doing this. I like you and I want to spend more time with you. You don’t get just how deep my feelings for you are. I like you as more than a friend.”

A sad smile crosses your face and you look away from him. “I’m sure you say that to a lot of people. How do I know you really mean it? You really like me?”

“Genuinely and from the bottom of my heart.” Haru grabed your hands in both of his and squeezed them. “Please, give me a chance to show you just how much you mean to me. Let me take you into town tomorrow. One date. That’s all I ask. Then you can make your mind up about me.”

For a moment, your face was impassive and Haku braced himself for the worst. Then your face cleared and you smiled at him. “I guess I have some calls to make and some plans to cancel.”

Haku felt the lightest he had in days. Even if it was just one date now, he hoped he would be able to show you how much you meant to him and that one date would turn into countless more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[steam-beasts]

Something Scary

(Part 3 to Something Splendid)

Meanwhile at Knapford, Percy pulled into the station hauling the mail train, blissfully unaware of what was happening with Thomas and James.

He whistled to the workers as they all went to get the bags of packaged mail from his trucks. He then felt his fireman pat his side "We'll be back, Percy. We must give these fellas a hand with the mail"

"Ok, Mr Fireman" Percy replied happily as his crew departed from his cab.

As Percy's crew left to assist the other workers with the mail, he let out a yawn, unaware of the strange transformation about to befall him. However, as a tingling sensation spread throughout his frame, he couldn't ignore the growing ache that accompanied it. It felt odd and uncomfortable, like nails were digging into him.

Percy winced and let out a dog-like whimper as the discomfort intensified into an ache "Ow...ow...owww" He muttered. The weird ache was getting sharper and stronger, his firebox fizzling in response to the strange sensation.

Suddenly, the quietatmosphere at Knapford was shattered by a very loud wheeshing noise anyone had ever heard, causing everyone to gasp and point in shock.

Sir Topham Hatt rushed out of his office, his expression a mix of confusion and concern as he heard the noise. "What the bloody hell?!" he exclaimed, his voice cutting through the air as he sought to make sense of the sudden commotion.

As the steam and smoke gradually cleared, revealing the spot where Percy once stood, the onlookers were met with a sight that defied all logic and expectation. Instead of the familiar green saddle-tank engine, sprawled out on the rails before them was a towering 16-foot-tall humanoid figure.

With a pudgy yet muscular build, the grey-skinned man possessed digigrade legs adorned with small green locomotive wheels on his ankles. His face was obscured by a thick mane of curly brown hair that cascaded down his back, while a stumpy little funnel protruded from the top of his head. Adding to the surreal spectacle, the humanoid sported cat-like ears on the sides of his head, completing the baffling transformation.

The workers and passengers stood frozen in disbelief, struggling to comprehend the incomprehensible sight before them.

As Percy's driver and fireman exchanged bewildered glances, reeling from the sight before them, the possibility that the giant figure lying on the rails could indeed be their beloved engine was high. But only the fireman could see that.

"I- what?!" the driver spluttered, his disbelief evident as he scratched his neck in confusion. Could it be Percy? Why the hell is there suddenly a giant 16-foot-tall man laying on the rails unconscious?

The fireman stared on wide-eyed, his mind racing to make sense of the inexplicable transformation. "Jesus... do you think that's Percy?" he whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Percy? You think that giant MAN is Percy?!" the driver exclaimed incredulously, shaking his head "It's probably just a coincidence. There's no way that's... that just can't be him."

The fireman shrugged, his expression still filled with uncertainty. "Dude, Percy disappeared in a huge puff of smoke. LITERALLY. Then that thing appeared," he pointed at the giant man on the tracks. "That's a pretty huge coincidence."

"Percy's a steam engine. That thing is... well, I haven't got the foggiest idea! There's just no way," the driver argued vehemently, his disbelief becoming borderline stubbornness.

Sir Topham Hatt soon approached the two, his expression shifting from sternness to shock and confusion as he surveyed the scene before him. "What on earth...?" he murmured, trailing off as he struggled to comprehend the inexplicable transformation that had unfolded.

"What happened?!" Sir Topham Hatt demanded, his tone stern as he focused his attention on Percy's bewildered crew.

The fireman raised his hands in defense, looking uncertaint. "We don't know, Sir! Percy just... turned into that!" he explained, gesturing towards the giant humanoid figure lying on the rails.

The driver quickly interjected, his voice tinged with doubt. "But we don't know for SURE if it's Percy!" he added, earning an unimpressed look from the fireman.

Sir Topham Hatt stared at the scene before him, his expression a mix of frustration and bewilderment. "Oh dear, oh dear... out of all the strangest things that happen on this damn island, this certainly takes the cake," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Having his engines become beasts was already stressful enough, but humans??

"Can one of you at least go down and check if it IS Percy? If it isn't, I don't have a bloody clue on what else to do..." he sighed, his exasperation palpable.

The fireman put his hand up "Not it"

The driver grunted and rolled his eyes in annoyance before reluctantly and carefully hopping off the platform, landing on the ballast covered ground below (good thing he had strong legs).

When he looked back up at the creature that was supposedly Percy, he gulped. The size of the creature was much more daunting and intimidating than on the platform. Taking a deep breath, Percy's driver carefully tiptoed up to the beast.

The humanoid's ear twitched a little, and steam puffed out of its nostrils, albeit covered by its puffy hair.

The driver delicately brushed his fingers along the strands of hair before slowly pushing a good amount of its hair. As he took in the details of the colossal man's face, he gasped in even more disbelief;

It is Percy.

"Oh god! It IS Percy!!" He exclaimed. Sir Topham Hatt gasped "Wait, it is?!" He asked in disbelief, his voice now tinged with worry for his engine. He along with a few other workers quickly made their way down the platform to see for themselves. All the while, they desperately tried to avoid looking at Percy's...ahem...jewels

The driver continued staring at Percy's face in shock until Percy started to stir; he was waking up.

Suddenly, a soft growl could be heard from Percy as he began to stir more and more, making everyone back up in fear. The humanoid saddle-tank's nose twitched and his nails dug into the ground as he came around. He yawned and opened his eyes tiredly.

Once he saw where he was, Percy frowned in confusion "Huh..?" He mumbled as he noticed everyone's faces. A strand of curly hair fell on his face. Thinking he was in his monster form, Percy sat up and simply reached up and pulled it away, only to yelp in pain as it felt like something was pulling at his skin as he tugged on it.

More brown curls then fell over his face, and his tried pulling those away, only for more sharp pain "Ow!" Percy grunted, pulling his paw away.

But when he looked at his paw, he noticed something very off; his paw was more slender looking and his fingers weren't as stubby.

The workers watched in hushed silence, not knowing what to do as they watched Percy flex his fingers, his expression becoming more and more horrified.

Percy saw his driver and whimpered "D-Driver? What's happened?"

The driver reached up, trying to sound calm and reassuring "Okay...uh, Percy. Everything's ok...just don't look dooowwnnn..." Percy did the exact opposite and looked down at the rest of his body "....and he look down" the driver sighed to himself, mentally face-palming.

Percy let out a mighty scream that echoed through the station as he took in the details of his body. He cried and continued to scream as adrenaline began rushing through him, making him instantly stand up, only to fall down due to the unfamiliar feeling of his new legs.

The workers and Sir Topham Hatt quickly cleared away as Percy whimpered and cried, tears of fear streaming down his cheeks as he clutched on to the mail truck for support. The wheels on his ankles spun frantically, his claws digging into the wood of the trucks as he began hyperventilating.

"What– What's happened to me?!" He sobbed.

Sir Topham Hatt, albeit quite stressed out himself, tried to calm him down "Percy! I understand this is very distressing, but please calm down!" He called out. Percy looked down at his controller through teary eyes, choking on a sob, he replied "S-Sir...? I–"

"Percy?!"

Percy's ears pricked up as he looked ahead of the tracks to see two other humanoid creatures like himself. One was the same size as him and the other was very tall. Both of them also had very familiar faces...

"T-Thomas...James...?" He hiccuped, letting go of the truck. He then made a weak attempt to crawl towards the two "H-Help...me" He whimpered, reaching his hand out to grab either Thomas or James's.

Thomas himself wasted no time and quickly crawled towards Percy, grabbing his hand and helping him on to his knees. Everyone watched as the two smaller humanoids then hugged each other for comfort, James slipping in to join. Thomas let out a shaky sigh and whispered;

"I-It's ok, Percy...everything's gonna be...ok..."

[darlingpoppet]

Where The Dead Forget — Chapter 8: Glory

Hades Gameverse Memory Loss AU | Achilles/Patroclus | E | Chapters: 8/22 | Words: 87,923 (Ch 8: 16,680) words)

Chapter 8 Summary: A treatment of the Scyros episode from the Achilles myths. Patroclus is called upon to honor his allegiance to war, and Achilles is keen to join him, for the sake of love and glory. His mother Thetis, however, has different plans.

Excerpt:

“Father,” Achilles began, “We have been told there are tidings you wish to share with us.”

“Indeed,” Peleus said. “I have called you both here—however, these are matters that primarily concern Patroclus.”

Next to Achilles, Patroclus’ bowed head lifted.

“Me?”

“Yes,” Peleus answered him. “I have just gotten word of a disturbing incident out of Sparta—a grievous crime in violation of the sacred customs of hospitality. Prince Paris, son of Priam of Troy, has abducted Queen Helen, the wife of Menelaus, son of Atreus. And since Helen’s former suitors from all over our kingdoms had sworn by oath to honor and protect their union, King Menelaus, along with his older brother, King Agamemnon of Mycenae, have called upon all those men bound by that oath to assist in ensuring Helen’s safe return to her rightful place.”

Achilles turned to Patroclus, astonished by this news. Patroclus, however, did not seem to notice him. He lowered his head once more, closing his eyes as a small, knowing smile appeared on his face.

“Ah,” he said simply.

“They intend to wage war against Troy?” Achilles asked, turning back to address his father. “And you mean to tell us that they wish for Patroclus to join them? Because—“ he blinked, quickly putting the pieces together, “—because he is among those who made the oath?”

“That is correct,” Peleus answered.

Achilles turned again to Patroclus. “I did not know of this.” He hoped his tone did not come off as aggrieved, even if he did feel a considerable degree of shock.

Patroclus looked back at him, his expression solemn, but strained.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to keep any more secrets from you. The truth is, it is something I simply did not think would ever come to pass, so I had put it out of my mind completely. I was so young then—not even ten—I had petitioned for Helen’s hand at my father’s behest.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I did not have a choice back then… and it appears I do not have a choice in the matter now, either. So I shall go, and honor my duty. I suppose since I am no longer a prince, it is simpler this way. I have no army of men at my command, so I will be able to leave at once for Mycenae on my own.”

Achilles shook his head.

“What are you saying, Pat?” he exclaimed. “What in all of the heavens and earth makes you presume that I wouldn’t come with you?”

Patroclus’ eyebrows lifted, eyeing him seriously. “I presume nothing. You are not bound to this war,” he said.

“But I am bound to you, aren’t I? You are my dear companion, and my duty to you is just as important as your duty to myself. If this is something you must do, then of course I will be by your side to protect you, and keep you company. And it does not matter that you are not a prince, without an army to call your own. You are a Myrmidon now—one of us. If you have no contingent, then you may share mine, and together we will muster the most splendid army in all of our kingdoms!”

Peleus, who had been listening to their conversation all the while, appeared delighted. He grinned handsomely.

“A magnificent plan, my son,” he said. “Of course, the kingdom of Phthia would be honored to do right by Patroclus, and extend its means to assist the Atreides brothers in their righteous cause. The both of you shall secure glory and victory for yourselves, and for us all. How particularly fortunate you are as well, Achilles. A man could not ask for a finer gift for his coming of age. You should be very pleased.”

Achilles nodded, flushed with pleasure and excitement. “There, Pat, you see? We all love you. And I don’t just mean those of us here in this chamber. Every one of us in Phthia.”

Patroclus eyes darted between father and son, both of them smiling widely at him with warm enthusiasm. At first, he appeared almost stunned by this, but then he bowed his head once again, his eyes glistening.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly, his voice tight with barely suppressed emotion. “I am grateful.”

Read the rest here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43292178/chapters/150227206

Previous Chapters: 1. Drown | 2. Grief | 3. Grace | 4. Weakness | 5. Together | 6. Guilt | 7. Known

[takaraphoenix]

Guess who's writing her second Neckz 'n Throats fic? This time, newbie Stiles who fills in for his roommate Kira when she has to cancel a shoot last minute.

For the full fic, watch out for The Fox and the Wolf coming to an AO3 near you. But for now, a tiny sneak peek ;)

--

“I am so sorry I’m late, but I also only learned that I should be here like forty-five minutes ago so honestly, fifteen minutes late is half a miralce. I may have broken several traffic laws.”

Peter was not the only one to stare at the rambling boy. He was… not what Peter had expected from the ‘barista roommate’ replacement that Kira had spoken of. He was pretty to look at, that much was a relief. The pale skin would do for marvelous markings. The moles dotting the side of his face were enchanting marks of their own. His hair was already messy like someone (probably the boy himself) had run his fingers through it repeatedly. Good for tugging, it would look splendid with clawed fingers curled in it. He was lanky, long limbs and slender build. A twink, to put it bluntly. Which was its own appeal, but it made Peter want to pair him off with someone else instead of Malia, who was supposed to shoot this at her girlfriend and mate-to-be’s side. Boyd might pair well with him. Mh, Jackson’s arrogance would also pair well, put the boy on his knees for the wolf.

Peter was startled when he felt his inner wolf growl and protest the notion, as soon as a delicious and tantalizing scent of sweet honey, dangerous lightning and ink-stained books hit his nose, making want flare up in him. The boy should be on his knees for Peter, bare that pretty, pale stretch of throat for the Alpha, submit to him readily and willingly, beg for—

“You must be Stiles,” Chris spoke with a friendly smile, motioning for the boy to join them. “I’d like to say we heard a lot of you, but all of this is very last minute…”

“Well, I heard a lot about you, so that makes up for it on my end,” Stiles grinned broadly and shook Chris’ hand. “Christopher Argent, though your reputation preceded you even beyond what Kira gushes about. You are brilliant, I mean, holy shit, what you do with a camera is straight-up magic.”

Peter’s wolf rumbled pleased and settled down some, his earlier agitation also dispersing at the sound of praise being heaped upon his mate. Yes, good. His Christopher deserved all the good words there were, because he indeed was brilliant and too few people recognized that. There were so many who thought photography was just about ‘clicking a button’ and Peter had threatened bodily harm on that matter on multiple occasions already (much to Chris’ embarrassment).

[shunin-gumis]

Netaro Initial SSR Story

Netaro's Soulmate Search, Group Date Edition (Part 1)

Any notes with a * are at the bottom!

Also Netaro has a unique style of speaking, I hope it was conveyed in the TL 😭😭

Netaro: Beatrice, oh Beatrice~ Where art thou~?

Momiji: Woah!? Netaro-kun!?

Netaro: Your good work is appreciated, Doudou~* Does writing up that report take up all your attention?

Netaro: Knock after knock and without a response, I simply couldn't wait any longer. So I had no choice but to break in.

Momiji: I-is that so... Sorry about that.

Momiji: Um, what was it about.... Beatrice?

Momiji: If I recall correctly... you're searching for your other half.... Your "Fate", right?

Netaro: Bingo~ You deserve a gold star!

Netaro: For the sake of this new dream I have discovered on this planet, I have been pointing my antenna this way and that on the daily, but alas-

Netaro: It is not enough! Simply put, I am severely lacking in new encounters! I must acquaint myself with a much larger scope of humans~!!

Momiji: Meeting more people huh... How about something like a group date?

Netaro: Group date?

Momiji: Yeah, it's something like a party where people gather to form new relationships. I heard that Liguang's little sister would be hosting one soon.

Netaro: Ooh~ Group date, a group date! It has an interesting echo indeed!

Netaro: Now that we have decided, it is time to intrude upon Luu-li!Let us depart, Doudou!

Momiji: Woah, wait! At least let me save my report!!

Momiji: ... And that's the current situation.

Liguang: ...

Netaro: Why do you look so displeased?

Liguang: ... It should be obvious.

Liguang: Since LinXing is hosting the event, I'm certain she would be pleased to have more participants join.

Liguang: But when said participant is you...

Netaro: I cannot help but get the feeling that you think quite poorly of me...

Netaro: How about this, if you would allow my participation, I could make these fluffy twin-eared critters even fluffier and cuter than ever!

Liguang: Try and lay a finger on them, I'll make sure you regret ever being born.

Netaro: You would make me regret my birth over something like this?

Momiji: Um, well, can you let him in just this once? I'll be with him too.

Momiji: ... I was the one who brought it up in the first place, I'll take responsibility for it.

Liguang: ... I'll allow it since it's your request.

Momiji: Thank you very much.

Liguang: However, Yowa.

Netaro: Oyo?

Liguang: If I hear that you caused trouble for LinXing or the other participants, we will need to have a "talk".

Netaro: Goodness, that Luu-li fellow. He need not be so dramatic about it. I am, as always, doing my best to stay on the same level as you humans.

Netaro: Oh well. Group date, group date~ I am bursting with anticipation~

Momiji: Netaro-kun looks like he's in a good mood. I'm glad I suggested this.

Momiji: But I get what Liguang-san was concerned about.

Momiji: Although everyone at HAMA Tours is used to Netaro's eccentricity, there's no way to know how people meeting him for the first time would react...

Momiji: I should try out some questions with him.

Momiji: Um, Netaro-kun, what are your hobbies?

Netaro: Nnn... As of recently, dramas and movies have been occupying my time, I enjoy them quite a bit.

Momiji: Oh! That's a pretty solid response, maybe it'll be ok-

Netaro: It is a splendid observation log for human nature indeed. Witnessing humans destroy themselves over intense feelings of love and hatred.... it is simply delectable.

Momiji: ...What are your favorite foods?

Netaro: Meat buns! Firefly squids are a no-go, they remind me too much of a superior of mine and make my stomach churn. Those eyes especially...

Momiji: ........ How about a special skill?

Netaro: I must say I am quite skilled at inventing amusing gadgets! My latest masterpiece is a glove that can squirt out orange juice indefinitely from the fingers-

Momiji: Stop, Netaro-kun. Just, stop.

Momiji: This is bad! I can't let him participate at this rate!

Netaro: Whatever is the matter? Would you have preferred it squirt out udon instead?

Momiji: That's not it. We need to practice on your Q&A skills today!

Momiji: The better you get at interacting with others, I'm sure it will better your chances at meeting your Beatrice too.

Momiji: I'll accompany your practice too.

Netaro: Doudou is kind indeed~

Netaro: Yes, I shall redouble my efforts as well. Time to level up my speaking skills and aim to be the top conversationalist master~!!

Momiji: That's the spirit!

Momiji: Hmm, first, let's talk to Kinari-kun who's sitting right there.

Netaro: Roger~

Netaro: Nari, I think it would crack me up if we could get laser beams to shoot out of your eyes, but do you mind if I sit next to you?

Kinari: There is an error in communication. I fail to understand the logic behind your sentence.

Kinari: However... A beam is worth considering if it would help me protect Master from any villains. Please give me a detailed explanation.

Momiji: No, you really don't have to do that.

Momiji: The road ahead is going to be a long one...

Notes:

Netaro's nicknames

Doudou is the nickname Netaro has given Chief/The protagonist. I believe the origin of the term is from French, and there are two interpretations of his usage for it. One is where it's used as a term of endearment for a partner, and the other is where it literally translates to a soft piece of fabric or a cuddly toy, implying that Netaro finds the Chief a comforting presence. As far as I've seen, we don't see exactly when or why he gave this nickname to Chief, he simply started using it in the main story and no one showed any surprise.

Luu-Li is Netaro's nickname for Lu Liguang

Nari is Netaro's nickname for Kinari.

Part 2

[brucewaynehater101]

Running over here to give an idea spawned from binging Pretty Cure transformations

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

The Drakes uncover artifacts on land once owned by their very own ancestors, to which they are the closest related descendents of

This gives them the absolute rights to distribution, and considering they spend less time with Tim than desirable, it's gifted to their boy in hopes of bonding with him through their ancestry

The last thing Tim expected upon opening the vintage birdcage was for the perch to swing and the sudden appearance of an bearded vulture flying out and soaring all over the room

Even stranger? The bird looked like it came out of a painting, from the brushstrokes to the exaggerated colors, like, its feathers were a wine red instead of red-orange one would expect

Oh, and the cheering—"Free! I'm free! Child, did you free me from my prison? Splendid! Spendid! I can cast revenge on those dastard Drakes at long last! Long last!"

Unfortunately for birdie here, they've been imprisoned for so long that any Drakes who imprisoned them are long dead

Remaining descendents are all innocent in this conflict

"A shame, a shame indeed, but now that I no longer fear them, and you too are ignorant of why they did not pass down their evil, I should give thanks to you."

"Tell me your Deepest Dream, and I'll isee if we can fulfill it."

Introducing Mes'Dremere, a painting granted life by magics long ago

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

I haven't developed quite a backstory, I'll leave it to you guys to brainstorm, but this vulture (they/them) isn't going to be having any beef with living Drakes since their sworn enemies died long ago

More trivia, their name is a blend of Mesmerize and Dream

They are far from the only magical being to slip through the cracks and go unknown for so long

Tim Drake, descended from a line with the power to ensnare one of Mes'Dremere's power, is a canary in the coalmine so to speak, seeing strange beings that appear to do nothing, but attach themselves to practically everyone, even Batman

And with every rogue attack, every act of corruption, and especially Arkham Breakouts they only grow more numerous

He can even photograph them

"This isn't my Deepest Dream, I still need to figure it out, but can you tell me if there's a monster on this man's head, or if I'm just hallucinating?"

"To think, to think, I would ever see such a thing again. My boy, an awful, awful evil has beat me here, such that it will cast this place into a greater despair than ever seen before, before."

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

Hollowing Wish, entities as older than Mes'Dremere; they seek personhood, purpose, dreams and the will to go forward by feeding from unprotected and unsuspecting victims, so that they may finally end their everlasting hopelessness

But saying they are eating victims into depression isn't true. When someone, for example, expresses willpower, they release an energy the Hollowing Wish will then consume. A junk food compared to getting it from the source, right inside. It's not enough for them

Pursuing a fruitless path to ending their plights, Hollowing Wishes take but never give to even themselves, only continuing the ever downwards spiral

victims can include but are not exclusive to: people, animals, and objects granted oh so much love and care

Regarding the last one, objects have a dense core inside them of all the deeply held feelings towards them, whilst surrounding it are the passing feeling people have for it

In the rare case of a Wish attaching to a target for so long, the two will become one, becoming something that could be mistaken for a meta, alien or something else---this form is a Nightmare Awakening

they unleash their pain and greedily keep their happiness locked away in their head in a desperate bid to hold into the remains being sapped away from the brain---until the target is reduced to a hollowed husk with nothing left within

As for the Hollowing Wish? they fucjing combust since taking in joy fresh from the fruit pulp instead of the juice is more than they're built to contain, leading to surrounding area and beings being entrenched in brief happiness, and then an onslaught of magical despair until the magical despair in the area and people dries up over time

What is it that causes them to spawn? Who migrated here, bringing their anguish with them?

The Hollowing Wish is an extension of a will, a will in even greater despair---Praying For a Forever Demise

"To think it was a Forever Dream they prayed for long ago, but then, but then?"

"Their unending praying manifested into a terrible, terrible demise . . . a name so long is easier to call Praying. It too serves well enough in reminding us how we got here, does it not, does it not?"

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

More tethered to the physical plane as one born into it, Tim is offered the power to become a hero himself, specialized to fight against the Hollowing Wishes

But he's just a fanboy! Wouldn't Batman or even Robin be better?

"Speaking from personal experience, he seems like far the man who would let these practices into his life, even with him having no other choice, no choice."

"Besides, besides, Robin must have his plate full, plate full. What better way to express your love for the Bats, than to ease their burdens, no matter how thankless, how thankless?"

"His own body can only go so far, hold so much, so much magic indeed."

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

The streets have begun to talk of a boy . . .

"Magical Boy!" "Do you think Gotham is some kind of Sailor Moon episode?"

A boy without a mask yet crusading as the Bats do. Unrecognized like them; magic it must be

"I'm Dreaming of Robin," he says he is, "but I've never met Robin or Batman yet."

Colloquially, Dreaming Robin or Dream(s) Robin

He's found where the Bats won't be, putting a stop to crime, giving thankless aid, and other acts of public service

But stranger is that which he grants and insists people keep around their house for protection

Blank photographs that upon touch become depictions of the little things that grant a bit more joy

And less pressure on their shoulders

By Dreaming Robin's side is a vulture, a guardian calling themself Mes'Dremere

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

Magical Boy Dreaming of Robin, Tim Drake. What does his arsenal hold? Listen Right Up!

[Materialized Eternity] is the ability to utilize photographs Tim takes by pouring his magic into his photos of choice

Say for example that Tim photographed Nightwing quadruple backflipping, a feat impossible for Drake

If Tim puts magic into that picture and he has it on his person, he will be able to reenact that quad-backflip just like Nightwing did, but doing so will drain the magic in the photo like a battery

After running out, the picture would need to be recharged on magic to be put to use again

That's just one way Tim can use the magic

[Lasting Photoshoot] the ability to pause time on entities and an area right after Tim takes a photo of for a short period of time

[Merry Memory] is the power to take a blank photograph and enchant it to protect people from magic by taking the image of something they love. It's Tim's go-to for defending people and himself from Hollowing Wishes

[Realization in Reach], Realization for short, is a magical staff and his primary weapon, as it can channel Tim's latent magical powers along with his gifted ones.

While feasible as a physical weapn, it gives Tim's magic more strength and a much wider area of effect. Emphasis on the more strength which Tim has to be careful about

[Forever Remember] is the power to photograph a Hollowing Wish that Tim defeats and thus seal them permanently within those photos

Photoed Wishes can be weaponized against other Wishes and Nightmares to make them fight for the same resources they crave. When weaponized wishes run dry, unlike Eternities, those Wishes effectively die and cease to exist

the photo becomes blank, and can picture something else

Tim also has safes with as much scientific and magical security employed, storing albums with Hollowing Wishes and Materialized Eternities to swap out 

Now for The Best Part yet!

"My Deepest Dream, I'll make you true!" A heirloom locket holding Tim's most precious photo of Robin he's ever taken, it is his chosen transformation item

(here's to hoping it never gets taken away due to that very picture within, because Tim won't be the only person fucked over by it)

As a rule of thumb, Dreaming Robin's outfit, his arsenal, and the photos he gives to protect against Hollowing Wishes all look like they came out of a painting, specifically what you get when googling "mystical painting"

Tim does learn some other magics that can be used to fight against Hollowing Wishes, Nightmare Awakenings and purify an area and people suffering the affereffects of a Hollowing Wish exploding and spreading their despair everywhere

Yeah Tim is gonna angst every time he fails to save a Nightmare Awakening before it's too late for them, poor him :(

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

In unrelated news? Tim has himself a pet too well trained, yet several times proven unabused and pampered

American Robin Dreams Come True 'Dreams' who people swear came from a painting despite their vibrant feathers being so picturesque, and vibrantly red all naturally

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

Gotham is yet again the source of insanity. That being strange monsters that abruptly show themselves to people before forcibly turning them into monsters

Thankfully, Dreaming of Robin always comes to save the day

Hollowing Wishes, he calls these monsters

Nightmare Awakenings, the victims are named

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

Some extra deets

Haha depression go brrrr

Praying For a Forever Demise is like this due to how much anguish, and hollowness they hold, and the desire for joy they want &/or used to have

Maybe they got their depression all naturally, or maybe magical shenanigans lead to them possessing an ungodly amount of it inside of them idk, maybe a blend of both

But yeah, Praying is only going to put to a stop when help and empathy is placed in front of them, and the shot of a happy dream everlasting is finally in reach

Also uh, Praying isn't wholly aware of wtf is going on outside of their head as they stew in their despair, with the rare blips of hope provided by Hollowing Wishes

Their situation is similar to a powerful deity unaware of their godhood and untrained into their powers which need to actively be restrained, but that has evidently not happened

so yeah, they're unknowingly spreading their depression everywhere

Or maybe they have come to awareness that spreading Hollowing Wishes is what they're doing and have compartmentalized that, it doesn't stop their depression from being worse nor even more Wishes spawning but willful ignorance is intoxicating

idk how they traveled to Gotham either lol, but they're dead center in Arkham Asylum, and with it being the new source for Hollowing Wishes, its gonna became way, way worse than in canon

Also prior to being Praying For a Forever Demise, they were Praying For a Forever Dream, do with this knowledge what you will

Are other Drake artifacts magical as well? You decide!

For clarification, Tim's magical boy alias, "Dreaming of Robin" is maybe an accident where he just states that "yeah I dream of Robin, he's my hero" but people thought he was stating his name so it stuck

Or maybe he intentionally introduces himself like that for the symbolic name

Mes'Dremere employs a whitelist geass preventing people from finding out Tim is Dream Robin unless they're whitelisted

I'm thinking that Tim could accidentally snatch up future Waynes into his team, and under Mes' tutelage, Stephanie, Duke, Cassandra and maybe even Damian

I think Jason, after dying and reviving, and he alongside Damian due to the Lazarus Pits, would be especially vulnerable to Hollowing Wishes, so woof

Side note, I think Tim would offer Jason-as-Robin the chance to become a Magical Boy with him, only for him to decline and after resurrection thinking

"I should've taken the Magical Boy route when I had the chance," lmao

Idk if Tim would still become a Teen Titan here, but it'd be neat if all of the Young Justice core four and maybe more became/joined the magical boy & girl team

Since Arkham is a breeding ground of Hollowing Wishes, people there are the least likely to become Nightmare Awakenings since they all have countless Hollowing Wishes attached to them

that means several Wishes are fighting for resources against eachother to sap up expressed will/joy/accomplishments etc.

Because they're fighting over the same person, often dying in the process and others joining the fray in fighting over their victims, they often make little progress in making way to becoming Nightmare Awakenings

So yeah, where as Batman and the clan will be more focussed on their rogues, Tim is more worried about normies who are more likely to fall victim to Hollowing Wishes

That being said, he doesn't wanna see a rogue or bat become a Nightmare Awakening, so he gives them both tons of Merry Memories and get rid of as many Hollowing Wishes on them as he can

And he's rightfully afraid, all hell will break loose if they subcumb to Nightmarehood

Feel free but not pressured to expand on this as you all wish

A magical boy Tim AU? Hell yeah.

Some additional ideas to add:

Tim's outfit comes from the culture present at the time of when Mes'Dremere was imprisoned. Tim has absolutely no choice in this matter, which is an initial point of contention. However, it eventually becomes a point of pride and comfort

The culture is one specific to this AU (so there's no cultural appropriation). Similar to Atlantis, Krypton, and other lost societies, Tim starts to discover their practices, rituals, customs, etc when he's trying to connect to his roots (since it's also the culture of his ancestors).

Jason rejects becoming a magical boy because he's "a literature nerd, not that kind of nerd." Tim's a little offended by this, but they get over it quickly. Jason also grumbles when he gets the All Caste because he ended up becoming a magical boy anyways, just without the transformation scene.

There can be angst added where Jason says Robin is magic so he doesn't need to become a magical boy. Then Jason dies and ends up getting All Caste.

Tim ends up learning a lot about psychology as a nonmagical way to help people as well. If there are fewer depressive symptoms, there's less for the Hollowing Wishes to feed on. Also, mental health techniques/coping mechanisms can delay the progression into a Nightmare Awakening.

The YJ core don't end up becoming magical boys/girls except for Bart. They do team up, though, and Tim helps a lot in battles even when there aren't Hollowing Wishes.

Cass would definitely vibe with becoming a magical girl since there's no killing. She'd probably do both the magical girl routine and become a Bat cause she's awesome like that

Would Damian view the Wishes as creatures?

Tim is able to form a different type of friendship with Zatana, Raven, and Anita due to his magical status. He also likes to call up Constantine to bother the poor bastard (it's funny to him).

[sparrowrye]

Peace Offering….

So, I discovered that I can’t really provide a teaser without giving away big reveals or juicy plot twists. Instead, I’ll give you a hint and a different snippet as a peace offering

HINT: the April fool’s chapter was, indeed, a vision :P

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you saying...you're trying to help me?"

"A proposal," the red Demon corrected, "if you'll hear me out.”

I shoved my hands in my tattered pockets to refrain from touching his outstretched hand. I had heard plenty about the power of deals, and plenty more about the Radio Demon. Even so, I agreed to hear him.

"Splendid!" He threw his hands up dramatically and whisked past me. The cave my cell was carved out of wasn't very large, nor smooth. The only even stone ledge, which he had sat himself on, had a single rug as the buffer between me and the stone. My muscles still ached from the uncomfortable bed. "I can provide you with a means out of this dirt ring business."

"You're not the first man who's tried to buy me," I said.

"Yes, the ring's champion comes at a hefty price."

I crossed my arms and shifted my weight on my feet. The sound of the chain around my ankle echoed off the walls.

"Tell me, dear, who's the boy who recently Fell?"

I bristled. "You think I can recognize everyone who Falls?” I shifted my tone halfway through to sound less insulting. He was the last person I wanted to upset right now.

"You didn't answer my question."

A moment of silence. "He’s an old friend."

He examined his claws then looked up at me through his eyelashes. "He seemed a touch more than that."

"What does he have to do with this?" I gestured between the two of us.

"I have a means to remove both of you from the rings tonight."

"How?"

He stood and straightened out his coat. His sharp eyes never left me as he slowly approached. I took a step back when he came too close, my head tilting back to keep eye contact. "Beat me in a duel and I'll grant both you and your brother's freedom."

I swallowed. "And if you win?"

"Then you're mine."

A gust passed through the lantern and nearly plunged us into pure darkness. When the candle straightened, a large shadow towered on the wall behind the Radio Demon. Its smile showed equally sharp teeth as its owner.

"Of course," he laughed, drawing my attention back to him, "in a sense that you'd become my apprentice."

"Apprentice of what?"

"You're a Fallen Angel, my dear. You have strong magic coursing through your veins."

"I'm not any good at it. We're not allowed to use magic up there."

"Hence why you'd become my mage apprentice," he enunciated as he brought his face too close for comfort. I took another step back and felt the chain pull taut. "Your brother will become the apprentice to one of my top men."

"How'd you know he was my brother?"

"You didn't correct me when I said it the first time. Besides, the family resemblance is obvious." He tapped his cheeks. Of course he had figured it out and of course I had been stupid enough not to catch it.

My throat felt dry. "Why?"

"Why what, my dear?" He straightened up, single-eyed cane staring at me from behind his shoulder.

"Why do you want an apprentice? And why me?"

He took another step and now I was out of chains. "I see so much potential in you." His eyes held mine as still as a mouse backed in a corner. “A Demon's magic and an Angel's magic would be an unstoppable force. It could rival even the King of Hell himself, I gather."

"You want power," I concluded.

"You say it as if I'm the only one seeking it. Down here, power is everything." He paused. The room grew smaller, even darker. His breath brushed my cheeks and it felt like an invisible hand was squeezing my throat. Green light zig zagged up the walls as if the stone had a veins it was following. The Demon’s antlers had grown twice their size. "And I have the power to keep you and your brother safe for decades."

He abruptly stepped away and the room returned to its previous state, his antlers returning to their two prong size as well. He kept his hands locked behind his back, his eyes on me, and his cunning mouth silent. He was taking a gamble but so was I, using mine and my brother's life as the ante.

I had no tell tale sign of how many days or weeks had passed since I Fell. My cave was in a list of tunnels far away from the center of this place. The center was the only area that allowed sunlight in, the only place that Angels could Fall. To me, it felt like it had been months.

Creo, my younger brother, had Fallen yesterday. He barely survived his first round. The longer he survived, the harder the rounds became. He wouldn't last. He didn't have it in him. Yet, what would making this deal with the Radio Demon do to us? We clearly weren't going to be slaves--though anyone can lie about what they wanted to do someone. I had no guarantee that this Demon would keep his word.

But that's how deals down here worked. All the articles I had read told me of the large amount of magic Demons had access to in this hole. Their deals forced both participants to abide by the rules they established. So if the terms were specifically stated, we should be okay. What was being his apprentice like? Was he cruel? I could only imagine that held somewhat true if his mentoring style matched anything like his reputation.

Could I even beat him in a duel? From our short conversation and word of mouth, I gathered he was someone who used his magic a lot. I would stand no chance against someone who frequently practiced combat magic.

"It's an unfair match," I managed to say.

His eyes seemed to light up. "How so?"

"You have magic. I don't."

"Hmm," he casted a look to the side in fake thought, "I suppose that's a fair point. Tell you what, I won't use my cane." He brought it from behind his back to admire it in the lantern-light.

"Is that your only source of magic?"

His smile widened. "You are forward thinking. No, it's not my only source. But it holds a significant amount."

"Then a duel with no magic."

"No," he said definitively, "that would put me at a disadvantage. You have strong magic, whether you know how to properly harness it or not, and you have experience in close range fighting."

I suppose that's fair, I thought to myself. I looked him over, noting the small portion of his arms, waist, and legs. He didn't exactly look strong. The way he dressed suggested he was a gentleman, so did that mean he wasn't very experienced in dirty fighting?

"So," he continued, "a duel to yield. I will not use my cane and you may use any magic you can control." He slotted his cane behind his back as he approached once again, hand extended.

"Tell me the deal. Fully." I kept my hands glued to my leg. Would the deal still count if he grabbed my hand without my consent?

"Fine. If you can beat me in a duel," a green aura surrounded his hand, "I will grant you and your brother's freedom. If you cannot, both of you will belong to me as my apprentices."

"You cannot use your cane in our duel," I corrected.

"Yes. I will not use my cane in our duel tomorrow." The green pulsing hadn't changed and I assumed that meant the stipulation was counted. Was this a good idea? If I didn't take it, Creo would likely die in his next match and one day I would either die in my own match or someone would take advantage of a chained woman in a secluded cave. This was a dangerous gamble, but so were my other options.

I grabbed his hand.

My veins turned scalding hot. I squeezed my eyes shut as my throat seized, a series of screams, whispers, and echoes filled my head. Cold spirits licked my skin that burned at the contact. I could see strange green symbols jumping around behind my eyelids. Even as the heat, pain, and voices abated, a sickening feeling settled in my stomach.

When I opened my eyes, the Radio Demon's antlers had grown thrice their size and his smile was covered with neon green stitches. His hand was still clasping mine painfully tight, a small buzz of static emitting from the trickling green light. I wanted to let go but he held on.

"Marvelous!" He returned to his previous state in a moment's notice. "I look forward to our ordeal tomorrow morning." He finally let go of my hand and I yanked it back to my chest. He spun on his heels and strutted out of the cell.

"Wait!" I called. He stopped at the doorless entrance and looked over his shoulder. "How are you able to do this? I mean...lawfully you have to pay to own a fighter."

He chuckled and turned partly in my direction. "Unlawfully, I convinced the ring owner to allow our duel to be public in exchange for your payment." With that, he slipped around the corner and disappeared.

I stumbled over to my uncomfortable bed and practically fell on it. I dug my claws into my scalp. What have I done?

****

I was a mess.

I got almost no sleep after I made the deal, tossing and turning every few minutes. Things grew worse when I heard the faint echo of a large crowd. It sent my anxiety through the roof and no amount of pacing could calm the overwhelming nausea. In part, I was excited at the opportunity to free myself and even save Creo. Yet, there was still the rest of me that knew it was too good to be true and that I would lose this duel in seconds. I had barely manage to survive my past fights so what chance did I have against a powerful, reputable Demon?

He's not using his staff. There's still a chance.

My reasoning never had any effect. I had gotten sick once before a guard finally came in to retrieve me. My hands were slipped into a nose and attached to a chain of other fighters. Every day, every fighter was forced to watch other opponents before their turn. I was grateful for it because it had allowed me to catch weaknesses of my opponent.

I noticed Creo at the end of the chain. We barely made eye contact before I was yanked forward. The murmur of countless voices turned into a roar as we neared the end of the tunnel. My heart raced with apprehension. Was there were as many people as I thought because of my fight with the Radio Demon? That made me feel worse. People wanted to see because a power Demon was putting himself up against what they considered "scum of the earth". How ironic considering their own status.

The line came to a halt. One of the guards, covered from head to toe in sharp scales, removed me from the chain and took me down a different tunnel. I twisted my neck in an effort to catch Creo's eye but he was too far down the line and the stone wall cut off my vision. The guard shoved me ahead of him but never loosened his grip on my arm.

I was brought to the loading area. The rope was removed from my wrists, wooden bars closed behind, and the metal gate to the arena slowly opened. My eyes instantly found the bright red of the Radio Demon's suit.

I stepped out onto the sand. All around me where hundreds of Demons, all shouting, screaming, howling, clapping, and stomping their feet. The arena couldn't hold all of them so the remainder were on the edges of the higher levels.

Hell operated much like an ant colony. The opening at the top was the only source of sunlight and entrance (no exit). The pathway wounded in a circle, keeping the center open and Demon-made tunnels were carved away from the center. The rest of the spectators were hanging on the edge to watch this fight unfold. I wondered if there were other flightless Fallen Angels watching beside their masters.

I turned my attention back to my opponent. True to his word, and our deal, his cane was nowhere in sight. He was dressed in the same exact outfit I had met him in last night. His hands were folded behind him and his smile was wide. I suddenly regretted having made the deal with him.

The loud bell rang. My knees instinctively bent, ready for him to move in an instant, but he didn't budge from his spot. He was as still as a statue. The entire crowd had gone deathly silent, waiting for the first move. I had imagined him to be someone who struck first like a snake but he was waiting for me to approach.

I swallowed the urge to get sick.

The arena was relatively plain save for a single boulder jutting up in one corner of the circle. It was my only shield so I needed to stay on this half of the arena, but he was on the other side. I had to entice him to get closer.

There was the option to just walk up as close as I could get but that was too much of a gamble. I've never seen him fight. I didn't know how fast he could react. So I kept my distance and walked along the edges of the circle. I was shocked the crowd was as quiet as it was despite no blood being shed in the first minute. I credited that to my feared opponent.

His head turned as I walked past him, eventually coming to stand directly behind him at a safe distance. I grabbed a fistful of sand and tossed it ahead of me. A breath later I lunged for his legs. My claws touched his pant leg but closed around nothing. I landed on my chest and rolled away on all fours. I looked up right as a red tipped boot came straight down my field of vision.

I hopped back then got to my feet. He held his claws out to the side, ugly smile glistening in the dim sunlight, and waited. I dropped low and jumped again. I moved in zig zags but every time I got close he would step out of the way just in time. I was growing tired and he hadn't broken a sweat yet.

I moved away to catch my breath. He wasn't being as ruthless and cruel as I had expected him to be in a fight. Was he worried about ruining his trophy? I should be grateful he didn't want to kill me because I knew that fight would be vastly different than this one.

Magic was out of the question. I had no idea how to even summon that kind of power, let alone control it. The crowd was getting more antsy and upset as they shouted for more. They wanted blood, broken bones, screams, they wanted much more. He paid them no mind as he waited yet again for me to approach him. He hadn't moved very far from his starting spot. He was playing with me. This was a walk in the park for him.

Then my eyes caught Creo. He looked so disheveled in the fighter clothes, bruises covered his face, and messy hair stuck up at different angles. His hands were over his mouth as he watched the fight. Did he know anything about the deal? Was he expecting to watch me die? It had been so long since I last saw his face and now all I was seeing was fear.

The Radio Demon appeared beside me. I jumped back with a sharp swipe to his head. He barely had to lean away to evade it. I circled him, waiting for more, but once again he never did anything else other than stand there. I moved as far out of his vision as I could then used the wall to launch myself. He stepped aside again but something sharp caught my knee. My feet went too high and it landed me on an awkward spot on my back.

I rolled over. He didn't want to do too much damage to his prize. That meant I could get closer.

We danced for what felt like forever. I was never able to actually get a hit on him. He was too fast, too nimble. I had the strength but he had the speed. I used the wall to propel myself again. This time he threw his elbow up and it collided with my face. Where my head stopped the rest of my body went with the momentum. My head was shoved into the sand and a worrisome crack ran down my spine.

He removed his hand to reveal his smiling face. I threw up my clawed foot and he slipped out of the way. I pushed myself to my knees as I wiped away the tears. My mouth hung open as I sucked in precious air and tried not to taste my own blood. My nose had just healed after my last two fights. A migraine was making its way up the back of my head.

Enough of this! He was toying with me still. He could've ended this fight long ago but he was choosing to draw it out.

I ran forward. I jumped but fell short, digging my hands into the sand and throwing my leg out. He stepped back and caught my ankle in his hand. My eyes widened a fraction before his red claws pierced the vulnerable skin. I pulled back and he went with it. His free hand went for my neck but I barely pulled out of the way. His hand landed in the sand while the other let go of my leg.

The crowd roared.

I went for his exposed side. His elbow contacted with the side of my head then shoved my neck into the ground. I threw my knee up and he blocked it. My hand sliced his leg where the pant leg met his boot.

To my utter shock, he lifted me up by my neck with a single arm. My feet barely left the ground before he tossed me halfway across the arena. I coughed up sand as I stumbled to my good foot. The blood from my ankle looked black in the sand and soaked the edge of my pant leg.

He approached with his hands behind his back. My eyes scanned the area before I realized the boulder wasn't that far behind me. I hobbled backwards. I needed him to be closer. I could move around the boulder and catch him at different angles.

Then I couldn't move. I looked down to find my legs buried up to my shins in sand. When had that happened? Panic closed around my throat as I tried to pull my legs free. I looked over my shoulder as he continued his casual approach. I started shoveling sand from one of my legs and felt it loosen.

My claws touched something hard. I pulled it free and came back with a broken shard from the boulder. I stuck it back in the sand and used one hand to continue digging. My eyes never left him as he came closer. I waited until he was nearly on top of me before I threw the shard. His hair barely missed the weapon. A moment later, a thin red line appeared on his cheek.

He had gone very still.

Then his eyes narrowed and his jaw opened to reveal his full set of sharp teeth. His eyes darkened and his antlers stretched out sideways. I regretted throwing that shard.

The sand gave in and I frantically pulled my legs out. The ground shook as he stepped towards me. I limped to the boulder and used my arms to throw me around the bend. I immediately climbed the rock and winced at the pain in my ankle. My head spun like an owl as I searched for his red figure. But I couldn't.

My leg was yanked out from under me and I landed hard on the ground. Air was squeezed from my lungs and it took everything in me to lift myself up just enough so I wouldn't breathe in sand. I put my back against the rock as he appeared at my feet in the blink of an eye. He had returned to his normal state but that evil smile hadn't lessened.

He tilted his head to the side.

No. I'm not done yet.

I grabbed a fistful of sand and threw it at his face. His arm came up to block it as he stepped away. I shoved off the rock and lunged with my good leg. My claws aimed for his sides, for the soft parts, and closed around nothing. His sharp claw smacked into my face with a horrible CRACK in my neck.

I went still. Pain throbbed from my neck down. Had he paralyzed me? No. I could still shift my limbs, however painful. They were shaking now.

Eyes still closed, I slowly pushed myself to my knees. Tough leather shoved my head down into the sand and held me there. Humiliation and sadness filled my chest. The boot was temporarily removed so he could shove the tip of it into my shoulder. I coughed on blood and sand as I was shoved onto my back. I opened my good eye to the spot of sunlight. It had gotten brighter, as if mocking me for my loss.

The Radio Demon stepped into view and blocked out the sun. His face came closer as he knelt down beside my head. I flinched when his claw brushed my nose. It was as light as a feather across my bloodied cheek. Everything hurt.

"You did good," he said, "but you will do so much better under my care."

My throat hurt to swallow and I closed my good eye as tears welled up. My jaw clenched painfully tight as he brushed a strand of hair across my forehead.

Creo. I tried.

[angevinyaoiz]

finally watching the Becket (1964) commentary and Peter O'Toole and Mark Kermode cannot stop talking about the homosexual subtexts (and texts) of what's going on from the very beginning jfjff though interesting to corroborate that the "you have an obsession which is unhealthy and unnatural" line was indeed shoehorned in as "the only line not originally from Anouilh" meant to show the behavior and relationship/attachment as "unacceptable," but also paradoxically making the queerness in the film explicitly clear.

Other fun stuff discussed is of course O'Toole talking about his theater training and approach to acting, working with Richard Burton, him mentioning how being on site/location (or in his case, on a camel lol) "doesn't make you a better actor" and when the host brings up CGI and artificial sets he's like "please...put me in the fake SETS... I love SETS and a good SCRIPT" XD

Also he likes the different versions and characters of Henry II ("a man who says splendid things") mentions other plays that featured him of that era, a "Curtmantle" and "Eleanor and the Four Kings" and a Tennyson Becket play from the 1800s. Curious to check those out. He mentions being less concerned with being informed about strict historicity And "character" and more bringing the script and words to life in the present.

Mentions how playing Lawrence of Arabia was very much to him playing "against type'" (because Lawrence is more sensitive/effeminate implied?) vs the "snarling butch geezer" in Becket. Says David Lean saw "something" in him though (he saw the Omega Energy. Which comes thru in LOA and Becket no matter how "snarling" u get lol)

Overall a cool commentary--great seeing insight on a lot of the vintage actors and their approaches and interactions, esp for a movie like this. I've been wanting to listen to it for ages so glad I found it hehe

[delicrieux]

𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫, 6. year one note: september 2nd, the summons

pairing for this chapter—f!lestrange!reader x regulus black warnings for this chapter—none word count—2.1k

whatever did happen at slughorn’s honorary tea party? well…

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | ttp masterlist | < back | next >

you would have preferred to change into something a bit more fitting for a tea party, but the invitation came too sudden. it was just you and regulus, wrung out from the day’s activities – the new classes and itineraries and so many faces to remember and attach names to – en route to the library (by regulus’ request, he had been quite adamant at starting charms homework early) when you were collected and brought the same winding steps down to the dungeons.

you’d think the air be warm and smelling of mould and torch-light smoke, but no. it’s surprisingly dry, if not a bit heavy, bending under the weight of the castle and the black lake. you follow. the professor says his hellos to passing slytherin students. regulus, a step behind you, remains equally as silent.

the office you are cordially ushered in is small for a professor of such distinguished rank. there’s a low ceiling and a homey atmosphere, a plush couch in deep, smoky velvet with gilded edges, a mahogany table, an impressive amount of trinkets and pictures in the cabinet, a few portraits and landscapes and old tomes with latin titles: the elixir compendium: ancient brews and potent potions, alchemy through the ages: secrets of the master potioneers, witchcraft and wizardry: a guide to mystical mixtures.

tea’s already steaming and waiting. beside the cups, a delicious display of biscuits and caramels in flowery china.

“there we are,” professor slughorn says, closing the door. regulus and you take a seat, backs straight and hands folded neatly on your laps. one, however, seems much less at ease, “there we are. what a joy, i must say, to have so many bright students this year.”

the professor takes a seat on an armchair to face you both. his eyes jump between you and regulus. when he takes his tea, you do, too.

“i know it must be too soon to tell, but how are you finding hogwarts?” he settles on regulus first.

there’s a slight pause and an answer given to the tea, “very big, sir.”

“ah,” slughorn intones, “indeed, a marvel of creation. can be quite difficult to navigate. sometimes i stumble the wrong way and discover a room unseen, even after all these years. always up to something, this castle. as if alive itself,” his gaze drifts to you, “and you, miss lestrange? what are the impressions?”

medieval. the truth has a bitter tinge.

what comes out is more polite, “sheer wonder, sir. a bit of homesickness as well, but surely passes away the first few months, does it not?"

“of course, of course! as is to be expected anywhere, but i'm absolutely certain you’ll grow to love it very much over your stay,” there is a gleam of pride, a private whisper of, "very bright, indeed, you two. you'll both excel in all your studies." before he is reaching for a biscuit with the poise of a natural socialite.

regulus frowns but accepts the complement and bites into the sugar glaze of his own treat.

"i recall, you know, your father, mister black. orion was quite a rising name in the duelling club back in the day," a wave of the biscuit, and the memories, "no one, till this day, i bet, could beat him. not without paying a visit to the hospital wing."

regulus looks slightly up from under his lashes. professor slughorn perseveres with an affable smile.

a raised finger, "excelled in defence against the dark arts. wonderful wandwork, though i was quite, if you pardon my candour, miffed that he didn't take to potions as much. top of his class, but his passions laid elsewhere. your mother, though, walburga, oh, a delight to the heart," slughorn, overcome with remembrance, rubs a thumb over the stitching on his robe, "simply splendid. always a joy to have in class – a talented witch and diligent student. well-versed in potion making and never shied away from a difficult task."

"thank you, sir," is offered stiffly and sincerely, if somewhat unwillingly.

"the only one ever to come close to beat her title as top of class was your own mother, miss lestrange," he doesn't notice the glance that passes between you and your cousin, "you are very much like her. laurelle. a spitting image, in fact," there's a strange wistfulness in his eye as he regards you, a tone just a tad softer, "an exceptional young woman."

it could have been anyone – the sentiment could apply to a countless number of things, but...

no one speaks much of your mother, and she doesn't speak at all. hearing anything on a figure whom had faded into an invisible character is strangely foreign. like a freshly cut bruise.

"thank you, sir," you say, not sure how to respond to such a tender sentiment, "everyone says we're much alike."

"then no doubt you possess her talent for runes and arithmacy. her and walburga, always a competition between them, i recall. a bit of friendly rivalry in class. but walburga, i fear, didn't possess laurelle's talent for astronomy or the gift for divination."

there's a slight pause at the mention of the last word, where everything seems to halt. the world itself, under your feet, eases motion. the sugar cube held between your tweezers plops into your cup with a splash a bit too loud.

"and your father," slughron glosses over it quickly but gracefully, "a natural at transfiguration. one of the toughest subjects at hogwarts, if i do say so myself, besides potions, that is," you feel regulus' gaze burn the side of your face, "rodolphus, too, enjoyed transfiguration very much. yes, a very gifted boy."

rabastan mustn’t be talented at much since he isn't mentioned. you expected it, though it feels like a slight injustice.

"here," slughorn stands and retrieves a picture in a pretty gold frame before presenting it to you and regulus, "our winter social of 1946."

in the picture is slughorn himself and his illustrious slug club. there's a 17 year old orion black, handsome, carefree, a slight mischievous twinkle in his eye, not a line of stress etched in his features. you and regulus spot your mothers instantly. walburga softer in the face, the harsh lines not yet present. a modest smile, one regulus mimics unconsciously faced with her likeness. and there's laurelle, your mother, in the front beside slughorn, gazing past the camera to the great beyond.

a beauty. startling in sight, like a painting slightly crooked.

there's father, too, seeming very jovial beside his prewett cousins.

"timon and orion," slughorn continues, pilfering another picture from the cabinet. he gives it to regulus, as you hold the other, "were on the slytherin quidditch team. very good ones, too. orion was seeker and timon beater, a fine fit for their temperaments. are you interested in quidditch, dear boy?"

regulus, finally, comes alive. there's a fervour now, the topic far more exciting than that of house points and exams.

"yes, sir. my brother didn’t allow me to go out and train with him, though. said i'm too young," he doesn't complain, simply recounts with disappointment.

slughorn laughs, "yes, well, sirius cannot stop you now, can he? if you're interested, do talk to young aster fauns. he's the captain of our team. i'm certain he'll be delighted to let you practice before trying out for the team next year. hogwarts is, after all, a great place for adventures, and nothing is more thrilling than an afternoon out in the skies," slughorn's finger wiggle, "best believe it was me, and dear orestes carrow, who first hang-glided off the west tower."

regulus grins then. really grins, a lovely sight. a shadow of orion's, in the picture held before.

slughorn tacks on, "with some friends, naturally. of course, now, of course. safe to say that no one is attempting hang-gliding these days. and you shan't either," he wags a finger, though good-naturedly, "both of you, know i have eyes and ears everywhere. i shall be the first to hear of it."

you return to inspecting the treasure in your hands. the eight members of the slug club stand in formalwear, perfectly fitted. the air is lighter, smiles a little more wide. even for an animated picture, they stay respectably still besides the odd laugh and wandering, playful eyes.

laurelle, particularly, doesn't move, or blink, or breathe. there's a half smile painted on her lips, an almost faint sadness around the edges of her eyes.

she must've been ill by then. so young, a seventh year. a brilliant, albeit tragic star, the scintillating crown of the lestranges. a jewel so precious father chose a foreign last name.

"any classes you are excited for in particular?" slughorn inquires.

regulus starts but keeps a sensible eye, "all of them, sir."

a chortle. he sounds amused, not doubtful, at the wide-eyed, unhesitating declaration.

"and you, miss lestrange?"

you lift your head from the picture. you wonder if you shall grow into her features like rabastan grew into father's, "runes, sir."

"a marvellous subject. tremendously difficult, but i do not doubt your potency for it, dear girl. you'll excel. are you familiar at all?"

regulus turns at attention. the portraits, too, seem intrigued and tilt an ear. you tell the truth, "i know the alphabet. the runic charts in the library at home, though, are very complicated."

"your mother's handiwork, most probably," his lips crinkle upward, eyes scrunched kindly, "many would disagree, but a runic chart is often very subjective. like any other language, the flow and transition depends greatly on the speaker. laurelle was, is still, no doubt, an exceptional translator. have you attempted to read them?"

you glance at regulus, as if unsure. his expression is inscrutable.

"a little, sir," you hesitate again before continuing, "but i can't translate everything. i'd be much more comfortable using a rune dictionary."

"like the best of them, you've inherited your mother's talent."

something remains unsaid, but you feel it in the air around you. bending under the weight.

"well, i shan't keep you longer," slughorn says, setting down his tea, "the hour grows late and you have classes in the morning."

you all stand. regulus collects the photos and returns them to their owner. the others remain in the picture frames on the cabinets. there are too many to take in and you're curious, perhaps a touch greedy, to drink the sight of laurelle lestrange while offered the leisure.

"but, before you go," slughorn calls when you're at the door, "may i have a word, dear girl? only a moment."

you look to regulus, who does, too, and raises a brow. slughorn nods reassuringly, his hand reaching forward, ready to push the knob and send him off.

"i'll wait in the corridor," regulus tells you before the closing door obscures him.

the room is silent. slughorn's small eyes dart to the ground before back to you. there's a tentative smile, "a good friend, isn't he? regulus."

"yes, sir," you reply dutifully.

"no doubt, you shall grow to learn what a gift that is in hogwarts. very true friends, those loyal in their heart, are scarce. it's good to have such a person by your side."

"of course, sir."

the atmosphere feels thick again.

"someone you can trust," he emphasizes, but it feels as though what he's saying is going over your head, "that can be dependable," a gentle, careful tone is in his voice, like a question or a plea, "to confide in."

there's a prolonged silence. a shifting in your boots, the pull of the robe over your knees, "i'm sorry, sir. what do you mean?"

his expression falls, like he doesn't wish to elaborate, to explain the unspoken, but, no doubt, you don't fully understand, "not so important, really. a silly worry. an old man's fretting. this is a very difficult thing, being away from home. could result in a deal of… unexpected ways. i recall i could barely sleep the first week. terribly cold up here in winter, and all the unfamiliar voices."

he sounds apologetic. you say politely, "that will certainly ease itself soon, i'm certain. home is not so far, after all, sir."

he smiles, a comforting thing, "indeed. quite true. a splendid perspective, as i expect of you. only, if there was something to ever come up, know that you can confide in me, as you can in young regulus. my ears and heart are always open," it's offered in earnest. you nod, if not a touch stiff, before bowing your head.

when you enter the corridor, you meet regulus with an unchanged face. he's studying the decorations and trinkets lined the walls. portraits, old medals, and ribbons hung.

"what'd he want?" he inquires once you're on your way back to the common room. a glance over the shoulder, though professor slughorn's office is closed and far off already, "nothing, really."

[xxx-angie]

"dance with me"

radioapple alcohol, talk of cannibalism, biting, blood consumption, non-sexual make out

1110 words

@lucifersruberduck

alastor sits at the bar and pours himself another glass of rye.

it was angel’s birthday, and charlie insisted on throwing a party for him. it was starting to get a bit late into the night and the radio demon had been drinking all through it.

vaggie and charlie had just started a duet on the piano. alastor taps his foot along to the song, looking around the room. he sees lucifer, who leans against a wall with a cup of apple cider. he watches his daughter sing with a smile.

the deer demon downs the rest of the glass and gets up, heading to the demon king. “dance with me?” alastor holds out his hand for the short demon, who looks up at him with confusion.

“y-you’re asking me to dance? why?”

“it would be fun.” the radio demon shrugs.

the short male lets out a sigh and takes the other’s hand. he finds himself pulled into the sinner’s chest, an arm around his waist. he looks up at alastor, who has a big, genuine smile on his face.

the other demons look at the two in surprise, certainly not expecting alastor of all demons to dance with someone. and definitely not with lucifer.

the radio demon looks up as he realized the music is gone. “why did you stop? come on, i could dance all night long!” he laughs and twirls lucifer around.

charlie nods and smiles at the two as she gets over the shock, happy to see them getting along. she looks at vaggie and they nod at each other, continuing with the song.

“there we go.” he looks down at lucifer and continues to dance with him. “oh how i wish rosie were here. she would enjoy this so much.”

“rosie? is that your wife or something?” lucifer asks before alastor pulls him into a dip.

“my wife? oh no no no no.” he stands up and pulls the demon king back up. “i don't have a wife. but she is a very dear friend, very dear indeed.” he looks at charlie. “and she would love to see charlie like this, so happy with her girlfriend.” he manages to grab his glass of whiskey as they dance, quickly downing it before setting the cup back down. “but even if i was interested in her, i'm not her type anyway. she might be interested in you however.”

“and what would her type be?” the pale king asks as he presses into alastor, back to the overlord’s chest.

“tasty.” alastor replies simply.

“tasty?” lucifer repeats as he looks up at the other.

“though I must admit, her ability to pick them when we met was absolutely atrocious. but it has improved. our last meal together was quite splendid.” alastor gives a light-hearted chuckle.

“and how do you know i fit the definition of tasty?” the shorter looks up at him with a raised brow.

“you have angelic blood, correct? after the battle, rosie let me know that it has a spectacular taste.” he brings the demon king into another dip, one hand under him and the other holding his chin. lucifer’s own arms reach up to grab his waist in an attempt to steady himself. “though i do wish i had tasted it for myself…” alastor leans in close to the paper-pale skin of lucifer's neck and drags his tongue up the side of it.

the short demon takes a shaky breath, his neck feeling cold from the other’s saliva. “t-tell me more about rosie?”

“she knows a lot about the queer community. which was personally quite surprising. she is much older than me yet still knows tons of terms that were made nearly a hundred years after my death.” alastor says.

“like what?”

“i don't remember most, but asexual stuck with me.”

“oh? how so?”

“when i was alive, i never really questioned myself. assumed I would meet the right girl some day. i knew that being gay was a thing, but i never felt attracted to men, so i simply never considered it. I otherwise never thought about sex. but terms like asexual… i never heard it before, but if i had when i was alive, that'd be me. i must admit, i am quite glad there is an afterlife, where I can continue to get to know myself.”

lucifer can feel alastor starting to get a little clumsy and slow. “i never thought of it that way before…”

the sinner sighs and stops, leaning his head on the king's shoulder. “i’m getting tired… mind escorting me to my room?”

the pale demon sighs and wraps his arms tight around the overlord. he easily picks him up despite their size difference and with a kiss on the forehead for his daughter, he carries alastor to bed.

lucifer sets him down on the end. “you need to let go.” he tries to back up a bit instead the radio demon pulls the king onto his lap.

one hand is around his waist while the other tilts his head up. “i’m sorry, sir, but i am really curious as to what you taste like…” he breathes against the other's neck. “just a small bite? i’ll promise not to leave more than a scar~” he chuckles as he looks up at lucifer.

the pale demon is silent for a minute, the look on his face showing he was genuinely considering it. finally, he lets out a shaky “alright.”

alastor smirks as he presses his mouth to the king's neck, then digs his sharp teeth into the flesh. lucifer arches his back and grits his teeth, claws digging into alastor's back. “shit!” he can feel the sinner's tongue running over the bleeding bite mark.

then he drags his tongue over the bite mark with hands tightly holding him in place. he reconnects his mouth the wound one last time before sitting up, lucifer's golden blood dripping down from his lips.

he suddenly grabs the king by the hair and kisses him roughly. the demon king gasps at the sudden action and alastor uses this to slip his tongue into the other's mouth.

and fucking hell, lucifer can taste his own blood on alastor's tongue. he leans in and closes his eyes and stays like that until alastor pulls away. they both pant, a string of each other's saliva still connecting their lips.

“alright, i’ve had my fun. i’ll let you go now.” alastor smiles and leans back a bit.

the pale king nods and gets up, heading for the door.

“by the way…” alastor lays down and curls up on his bed. “you really are quite delicious.” he laughs.

oh this was so fun to write!!