#like he is some sort of royalty on top his royal throne

[sarasa-cat]

UGH! It is so cold that by the time the forced air heat makes it through the vent system to my office/art studio (which lacks insulation under the floor, as this room is above an old-fashioned cellar circa 1900 and is the oldest "original" part of this house), the CHILLY AIR blows up out of that vent (beneath my work table) and freeeeeezes my legs.

🥶

Rolled the space heater over. Cranked it up. Shivering until it kicks in.

This is brutal.

WHY SO COLD?! (Crying)

(Corrects posture -- so cold I hunched my shoulders down and inward horribly. No wonder why my neck and lower back hurts so much today.)

[babypinkhearts]

forgive me, for i am far too weak to control my desires.

pairing: geto suguru + fem!reader

summary: thrones of splendor and magnificence await you. you are not equals, he believes. suguru is but a mere admirer.

warnings: royalty au, prince!suguru, princess!reader, fluff, fluff, fluff, they both have massive crushes on each other, suguru is so very lovely

word count: 2.5k

a/n: my birthday was this past week and writing this seriously felt like a mini present in itself :3 prince suguru supremacy!

a summer night is tainted with some hesitance. slight frustration, too.

morning feels far.

if you could see it — the light, any peek of sun, it’s down an endless corridor. maybe you can imagine it; hope that it comes somewhat quicker.

and yet prevalence is sickly, and you’re subjected to the dark.

gojo satoru’s land is stupidly big. the palace, even worse. you’ve told him more than once; he’d refute and say he could never imagine himself living somewhere ‘suffocating.’ but there’s too much space for a single person, and the enormous balcony connected to his mere bedroom is just the cherry on top. the absence of humbleness is apparent when you’re around him, he loses some sight. you can only slightly rationalize the size because of how often he’d have people over, all poor victims to his constant need for attention. satoru grows bored easily, and if you’d all let him, he’d take everyone’s belongings and move them into his home immediately. company keeps his world moving.

it’s the reasoning for the banquets — all ‘small’ get-togethers he’d frequently host, inviting those of neighboring kingdoms, as the ‘unpretentious and welcoming’ prince of his family. the gojo clan had respectable reputations, and you loved satoru like a brother, but they all seemed somewhat out-of-touch, no matter your own title as a fellow noble.

it’s around midnight, you think.

you can still hear the band playing. the bass of trumpets and soft melody of violins are almost distant, but you feel the tremors below your feet. it’d been a miracle that you’d momentarily escaped the ruckus, as well as fleeting royals’ hands. to turn down an offer to dance, in the vicinity of hundreds of hungry, watchful eyes — a horrid nightmare.

the noise is muffled from upstairs. every conversation, every obnoxiously loud laugh. surely, nothing can be that humorous.

satoru’s balcony has a nice view, especially at night. however, any verbal compliments have always been sealed tightly between your lips whenever you visit. his arrogance grows stronger day by day — you needed to stunt it for as long as possible. he’d become a bit of a liability, you hardly felt bad for sneaking off to his room for some privacy.

there’s a few clicks behind you when you lean just a little more into the railing.

you pray the footsteps are satoru’s, because the need for some sort of herbal tea is the most prevalent thought in your head, and you have no clue where to look for it. you know that the cabinets in the main kitchen run nearly bare if it’s anything but sugary sweets, and there’s some pool of doubt in you that believes satoru probably lacks anything remotely similar that can satisfy you. he doesn’t exactly seem like the tea type.

you’re a little overwhelmed. you craved to enjoy these banquets — you had imagined that after the fifth one, you’d be adjusted — but your attendance has always felt laborious, and the attention you receive has only grown alongside your age. your head hurts from bowing to lords and queens, the occasional knight and prince. formalities are a chore, a simple game to appear the most presentable.

the footsteps behind you halt. you hold yourself steady, and turn to your right slightly.

locks of black greet you in your peripheral vision. the smell of nice cologne follows right after.

“hate it that much?”

mellow and teasing, it’s suguru’s voice that brushes through. like gently plucking at the strings of a harp, quietly catching your attention. you give him a little glance — to make him feel noticed, and maybe to get a subtle and selfish look at his face. he looks comfortable, you think. at least, as comfortable as you could seem in form-fitted clothing. he looks good, more importantly, blending in nicely with the darkness.

an owl’s coo drives the night, melting like stardust and fading into the sky. it allures you, only draws you closer to the new warmth beside you.

“yes. badly.”

you hear his laugh — it’s the type that trickles with remnants of lasting drowsiness, just hinting at the state. every movement you’re able to peek and see from him is all quite slow, and it’s a mini battle to fight a slight upwards quirk in your lips. he’s tired, it’s obvious. maybe a little inebriated too.

you’ve never felt the need to lie to him. suguru is more like a breath of fresh air; someone genuine in a world of acting.

hesitantly, you turn towards him, meeting calming, honeyed eyes. he’s a little intimidating, even with some visible fatigue. suguru’s gaze has always been piercing, and you’re nearly positive that he’s aware. there’s a confident twinge, a sight of his effect being knowingly apparent. it’s a little annoying.

“you don’t happen to hate it too, your highness?”

when you speak, you break eye contact, far too mentally flustered to continue such embarrassing torture, no matter how addictive. you can feel him still watching you (perhaps, with a small, shameless smirk), and he slowly bows his head in a nod.

“yes. badly.”

it’s you who laughs this time.

you liked suguru. you liked him a lot. since the moment you’d been introduced to him, years ago at a winter’s ball (hosted by satoru’s family, of course). he and satoru were joined at the hip, far too inseparable to even consider letting anyone in between. but then came the addition of shoko, the daughter of one of satoru’s knights (who had later turned into his own), and then you, the daughter of his father’s new royal comrade from a neighboring kingdom.

the two of you don’t swim in riches like satoru. kingdoms separated from the gojo clan require more thoughtful spending — it’s uncommon, the priority your families hold for your citizens. you blame that for the reason why suguru is so easy to talk to, so tastefully levelheaded. he sees through unhealthy voraciousness, just like you.

but a kingdom doesn’t develop without some kind of offering. a trade-off, a contribution of sorts.

you’re shaken out of your thoughts, grimness dissipated, when suguru’s head motions to the opening behind the two of you, left bare and unattended.

you’re slightly surprised shoko isn’t guarding the exterior. but, then again, she’s most likely monitoring the banquet.

“i was growing tired of a bland talk i was having.” suguru explains, leaning ahead, similar to you. an arm stretches out across the railing, and he lets out a sigh. “fresh air sounded much better in comparison.”

there’s something in his voice that you can’t exactly pinpoint. not close to a lie, however not entirely truthful. you’re unable to read it on his face. but, in all honesty, it was hard to pay close attention to anything when he was staring so intently. his eyes might burn through.

transparency reads best. and yet suguru chooses to hide the fact that he’d seen you flee from the chaos of the banquet mid-conversation, and followed right after. the desperation for your attention seemed to had overridden his rationality, and possibly costed him a bit of his reputation. (he’s sure the woman he was talking to might have bored him to death, though).

“it’s suffocating in there.” you reply, shaking your head. “i’m not sure why satoru likes hosting these so much.”

a stamped envelope with a pretty wax engraving shows up outside your castle gates every other month. you hear the stallion of a messenger, and know by the purple hues of the letter that it’s an invitation from satoru. you’ve kept every single one, storing them in a carton box below your bed.

the banquets are phenomenal. you’re left speechless every time you walk inside the ballroom, eyes drinking up every detail from hand-painted flowers on the walls to rich crystal chandeliers. the event itself is an unsaid contest to see who could dress the best, who really screams of royalty.

suguru purses his lips, eyes trailing down below where he can see some guests leaving. servants follow suit. they carry items of negligence, holding on to a toddler’s hand as their parents carelessly cackle ahead.

he makes a motion, beckoning you to crouch from any observant eyes. two young royals sneaking off to a bedroom — it’d be the scandal of the century. his parents had warned him of publicity far too often. you follow his instructions without any complaints.

from the slivers in the space, you still have a good view of the front entrance. roses and topiary line the walkway, leading down a distant road.

a familiar figure steps out, hair slightly blending in with the bright lights behind him. he waves to the departing folk, a large grin adorning his face.

“he likes a crowd. the whole family does.”

satoru was made for royalty.

your shoulders slump in fatigued defeat. the dislike for such public conventions plagues your conscience. you’ll always be tied to them, even unwillingly.

suguru looks to you, fondness in his very gaze. he feels your worry; knows of conversations that you don’t. nothing has ever been fair for you, he’s known it since you were children.

thrones of splendor and magnificence await you. you are not equals, he believes. suguru is but a mere admirer.

he sees you know, grown and enchanting. with a dress that looks so indescribably perfect, and face so pleasantly captivating. you could be in a story book. surely, you aren’t real.

and maybe he is far too smitten, eyes always chasing yours whenever you’re in the same room. at every ball he goes to, every social gathering, he searches for your name on the guest list first.

he remembers when satoru introduced you to him. the all-knowing smirk on his face, the slight shove he had given (mischievous, because he could tell how flustered suguru had become). and yet suguru had kissed your hand ever-so-gently — even bowed in respect.

he keeps hope. that your soul of sun orbits around him for eternity, and that you’ll always be within reach.

there’s more foolish thought, though.

his eyes trail to your bare ring finger.

to wed you —

well, that would be an idea of strictly fiction.

“a duke from the fushiguro clan wanted to ask you to dance. i heard him talking to your father about it.”

suguru’s voice cuts through the silence, cursed words disguised as mystic melodies.

you wince.

it’s hidden through the curtain of your hair, and you’re sure he’s oblivious to it. some part of you wishes he had kept that information to himself.

a dance is all it takes. a dance, then a conversation, then an inescapable ring. marriage is for business, not love. nothing more than the chance to unite two lands — greed runs through royal blood. it all seems hereditary.

you rub your arms gently, and shut your eyes.

“did he?”

suguru raises his head, intrigued.

your voice sounds a little exasperated. breathing a large gust of air, almost in… disappointment.

suguru nods in response, swallowing thickly. you’re friends, you’ve spoken about subjects like this for years. suguru remembers your expressions of secret distaste you would flash to him whenever another royal would attempt to make conversation. you were good at faking interest — suguru thinks you’d be wonderful performing in a play. all maturity (forcefully) weighs you down, however. a means to accept adulthood; accepting a loss of those childish glances and joyful memories. you’re still the same, though.

but could it be, that because you’re older, the age close to a bride, that it all feels much different.

suguru feels a little sick, in fact.

he glances to you, watching as your perched head rests on your hand.

“would you have gone?”

a sound of amusement leaves your lips.

he’s a little cruel to ask for a response so conflicting. it’s all melodramatic, insignificant in the grand scheme of the things. but you know your duty. your heart just doesn’t seem to follow through.

your dress suddenly feels more uncomfortable, and you straighten a little.

“would you like my honest answer?”

you’d never find the courage to lie to him, anyway.

suguru smiles, tilting his head with a small chuckle. once more — you’re a lot less proper in private, always have been. where there’s no fear of gossip or judgement, just your authenticity. no expectations to uphold, just beauty in your natural grace. suguru is blessed.

“enlighten me, princess.”

the name, while being the correct title (something you’ve heard daily your entire life), sounds different when suguru says it. it always has. he’s a siren, you fear. those mystical beings you’ve only heard tales of, the kind that keep your sailors at shore. everything sounds better coming from his lips.

guilt tears you in two.

your best interest should be aimed towards your people — more opportunities, for the price of one measly sacrifice. an unhappy marriage, for many more happy lives.

and yet you say, without giving yourself any time to regret it,

“no.”

you look a little paranoid after you speak, as if guards with chains and pitchforks are just outside the door. but that fear feels minimal when suguru is looking at you, proudly.

some confidence overrides thoughts of ridicule. he’s the armor you desperately desire. quietly, you repeat, “no. i would have said no.”

your interests lie somewhere else. not with a duke who sees nothing further than mere appearance and riches.

weight is lifted.

suguru stares. it’s imminent, his voice. threatening an appearance whenever he swallows too quickly, preparing himself for words he feels are a little too heavy on his tongue. you’re not looking at him — he thanks the heavens that you’re turned away.

he’s unaccustomed to nervousness. you are really the only trigger to it.

he doesn’t dare glance in your direction when he finally speaks.

“would you have gone if i had asked?”

it catches you by surprise.

suguru is looking into the starry distance when you turn to him. he’s smiling a little.

he looks a prince. a real, beautiful prince.

you’d danced with suguru before, dozens and hundreds of times when academy lessons would force the eventual omission of two left feet. learning to waltz was one of the most important rules in the book — a presentation of grace, ‘civility.’ but that was before the simple gesture meant more to the public eye. citizens find such a display as an act of courting.

there’s something in suguru’s expression; sheepish, maybe a little troublesome. like he knows your answer, and only waits for you to confirm it.

you enjoy teasing him, though.

“perhaps.”

there’s a twinkle in his eyes. charm in his gaze is apparent.

the band plays lowly — they’re finishing their last few songs. stringed instruments strum their tune, and it’s delicate harmonies for intimate sways. slow dancing.

a beat goes by. it enhances the feeling of slight wind across your face, pushing back your hair, servicing suguru with a clear view of your reddened complexion.

the midnight moon reaches you, it casts an illuminating glow.

you’re very pretty when you’re looking at him so shyly. as if he’d deny you anything.

a smile reaches his features, eyes crinkling in pure delight.

“well, princess,”

and a single hand reaches towards you, open and inviting.

“will you honor me with a dance?”

[creampuffqueen]

Trying to get my mind off unpleasant thoughts, and turning to my coping mechanisms which is fandom haha. Specifically Wuko. I really enjoyed Likewise, and I would really like to hear what inspired you to write it. Was there anything in particular that gave you the overall idea for the fic? What was your writing process? take this ask as an invitation to infodump about your Wuko fanfic, headcanons, etc!

oh i very much feel the same about getting my mind off things. so thank you so much for this ask!! i'm really happy that you enjoyed the fic!

as for what inspired me to write Likewise... uhhhhhhhhh

honestly i spent so long writing it i can't remember the exact train of thought that led me there haha. but i do know that i wanted to explore more of Wu's backstory, which led to me developing my headcanons about him and his family.

i knew he needed to have a minimum of four other family members besides the queen, as she's his great aunt. grandparents and parents. while developing Wu's parents i was definitely inspired by another fic i read. i can't remember it right at this second but it was posted during Wuko week and in it Wu's father was a jeweler! i really loved that and promptly added it to my own headcaons lol

and then going off everything we know of Wu from canon, it's clear to me that his great aunt had a really big impact on his life and his self-esteem. if his parents were around i don't think that impact would be quite as prominent, so Wu's parents had to go (sorry Wu :( )

and then from there the headcanons grew. Wu kept moving further down in line as i made the family tree more complicated, eventually settling on having him as tenth in line for the throne.

i imagine Wu's mother, Cida, as being this sort of... Princess Diana-esque person. She was a bit of a rebel in her youth, always chafing under the instruction of her parents, aunt, and older brothers. She got a degree from Ba Sing Se University (which i imagine is pretty rare for royalty) and then married a man she was actually in love with (also pretty rare for royalty). as i mentioned in the fic, she was really popular with the general public as well! i ended up becoming very attached to her as i wrote the fic, which is funny considering she is uh. dead

some of Wu's other family was mentioned in the fic, but not all of them. He has (had) 2 uncles, 2 aunts (the ones married to his uncles), 2 older cousins, 4 younger cousins, and 1 cousin once-removed (his older cousin's daughter)

and Wu's family was never close to each other. it didn't get mentioned in the fic, but despite the fact that they all lived in the royal palace, they avoided each other as much as possible except for once a month, when the queen required a mandatory "family dinner" for appearances' sake. because the family wasn't close, after Wu's parents died, his uncles didn't particularly care to take him in. this meant that Wu was mostly "raised" by the queen, who handed most of the childcare off to nannies and tutors but checked in on him pretty frequently to make sure his education was going to her standards

so that's the quick and dirty rundown of Wu's family relationships

as for Mako...

while writing, i also worked out his family tree as well! i... apparently don't have anything better to do lol. i can't even name how much family he has off the top of my head, just know it's a lot. i will be eagerly awaiting the Mako comic to maybe continue adding to this tree

i was actually going to have Mako talk a bit about his family, specifically his dad's side, but the story ended up not going in that direction. Instead i had him focus on the family part he and Wu had in common: dead parents :(

several people in the comments actually requested i touch on Wu and Mako's families again, so i do have a potential fic idea that includes Mako's family in it! we'll see where that one ends up going haha. the basis is pretty much: Wu learns what it's like to be a part of family that doesn't hate each other

overall my writing for Likewise was inspired by me wanting to know more about Wu's family, and ended up with me giving him and Mako some very similar trauma. whoops

again, thanks so much for the ask!!! i love chatting about my fics and this was a lovely way to get my mind off certain events for a bit, so i hope reading it is the same for you!!

[panie-wanie-dean-bean]

he won't leave my brain

Fuck, hi, I never thought I would be posting this but I need these thoughts out of my brain or so heLP ME GOD-I'm fine. For those who have yet to look at the tags, this will be talking about the game, or rather the au I've made for, Something's Wrong with Sunny Day Jack. The creators have said they don't want anyone under eighteen to be near this game or fandom. Adults only folks

Alright now that I've worn down the kiddo's attention spans let's hop in

So, like I said before this is an au, a royalty au to be exact, just not in the way you'd think. See royalty aus are usually used to end up with a royal spouse or partner of some kind, but that's not what this is, sorry to disappoint ^^; The royalty is just how this all starts out

So, most people in the fandom know about Joseph at this point, troubled teen turns into a troubled adult that's trying to be a better person, and then he dies a little bit but we're glossing over that for now. This au is very similar to that, in this au Joseph is the heir to the throne but doesn't want the crown. His parents don't respect him, treating him like a simple fallback, insurance that the kingdom will go on without them, and nothing more, leaving him in the care of the castle staff and leaving it at that

It's because of this neglect that Joseph ends up wandering around the castle at such a young age, meeting the sons of both the head guard and royal chef. A few months later he got even bolder, wandering out into the town and meeting the daughter of a librarian. These four became inseparable, and quite rambunctious in their teen years. It was at this time Joseph's parents decided enough was finally time to act like parents "You're the heir to the throne, the entire kingdom! It's time you started acting like it"

Their only mistake was allowing him one last night. He spoke to his friends about what happened, and how he'll never get to hang out with them again. He'd lost all hope but the librarian's daughter, who had always had her head up in the clouds, had an idea "Why not join the circus?" The circus, the one that came once a month every year, the one they had all gone to every night it was in town, the one the head guard's son broke his nose trying to imitate, it was perfect, to a bunch of sad teenagers anyway.

That night they all left without even a goodbye, they all had their own issues with their real homes, finding much more comfort in each other. Lucky for them a girl from the circus who was just a few years older than them took pity on them and took them in, having seen them at so many shows before. She became a sort of big sister to all of them, but most of all to Joseph. They just clicked, and bounced off of each other incredibly well during improv training, so much so that she even decided to match his colors to hers

As the years went by everyone found their role. The royal chef's son became Rory Rainberry, a member of the group for sure, but mostly known for the mouth-watering confections he whipped up for the stands outside of shows. The head guard's son became Knackadan Drizzle, a strong man, lifting over ten times what the average man could. The librarian's daughter became Cloudy-Belle Sue, known best for her incredible stories, that could make the audience laugh, cry, and cheer all in a few minutes. The girl who was already in the carnival was called Daisy Chain Jane, simply calling her the contortionist would be selling her short, having been raised by clowns she can do just about anything around the big top, the tight rope, juggling, animal taming, you name it

Then there was Joseph, the shining star of the show, now known as Sunny Day Jack he was seen as the best clown in the biz, second only to his "big sis" but he would always deny such a claim. This was a team effort, there were no leaders among them, just friends doing what they love

and I think that's all for now, sure I have ideas for how Jack could meet his sunshine, and how he dies, but do you see how fucking long this thing is already? Do you see now why I had to write this? I've been keeping all of this in my brain and I can't keep it in anymore. If you've made it this far, thank you, really you super didn't have to, but if you like what you see here and want more I'd certainly write scenarios or headcanons for it. It feels weird to say I'll write headcanons for my own au but I can't think of what else to call those bullet-point lists of what a character would do in a given situation. Alright, is that it? I think that's it, see ya!

[icy-book]

Okay so, worldbuilding first:

Royalty AU set in the dndads canon Faerune, but the dads have all always been from there. The S1 dads all went adventuring together in their youth, which is how they knew each other and how the kiddads know each other, and Henry was at the time a rebellious prince trying to get freedom in his youth. That's background info to the background info

A lot of this is kinda canon, with Henry now being king of Oakvale and Sparrow and Lark both being the heirs to the throne so they kind of have to work out who's going to inherit eventually. (It's looking like Sparrow because he has a wife and kids and because Lark is more interested in stabbing people than diplomacy, so he's basically part of the royal guard). Nicky is, of course, the crown prince of Hell. Jodie is the king, Morgan is the ex-Queen Consort who got enshrined into law as still basically being the Queen Consort because everyone likes her and just still treats her that way. Glenn is just kind of a guy the Hellish Royal Family keeps around because he's Morgan's new husband (and also parental confusion on who Nicky's father is but that's not public knowledge shhhh). Morgan is also the Captain of the Royal Guard. Taylor is being raised in a kind of far-off castle with Cassandra because things in the Hellish Court are tense and they don't want him getting assisinated, so he still barely gets to see Nicky. Also the betrayal still happened but I haven't worked out what it is yet.

The less canon part, Terry Jr is the Duke of Roqueporte, and has been since he was like ten because Terry Sr died young, but Samantha ruled as regent with Ron helping when he came into the picture. Grant and Darryl were well-respected travelling fighters for quite a while, and Terry made Grant head of his army and basically his personal bodyguard and advisor. Grant lives with Marco "to split the price" and he found Lincoln orphaned on a mission, so he took him home and raised him with Marco. Hermie lives with Terry because of Disputes in the divorce between Scam and Jodie (and resulting political tensions between Hell and the Goof's Realm) so they agreed Terry Jr would raise and tutor him. Hermie and Terry have a real "student who's resistant to anyone and anything and the teacher who actually stopped to give a damn about them" relationship, but also if said teacher had raised the student since he was like 5. Hermie refuses to see Terry as anything close to a father figure and keeps their relationship very professional. TJ personally tutored him in all the ettiquette, magic, policy, etc. for him to eventually become some kind of politically important royalty in some way. Mark Likely frequently drops by as an emissary from the Goof's Realm, and Terry hates her but wouldn't refuse him the chance to actually check in on her nephew since both his parents have sort of abandonded him. Terry Jr also recently married Veronica and Scary wants no part in the whole "Duke" thing and the fact that she's heir presumptive. Oh, and Nicky and Terry are exes

Okay, story background. Because of Shit(TM) going on in the background, Sparrow and Nicky have sent Normal and Taylor to go live with Terry for a while so they're safe, and also sent a few guards as additional protection on top of Roqueporte's existing guards. Which means Morgan and Lark are here, yay! Link is being a mini bodyguard in training because Grant thought it would be good to expose him to kids he wouldn't see as a threat to his parents' attention since Terry's the one mostly paying attention to them, the teens are bickering and learning to get along. After a while, Nicky and Sparrow join as well becauuse they want to see their sons. Terry promptly scolds Nicky because "literally why would you come live in the house of the person who betrayed you, you didn't bring any extra protection, you just snuck off here, I could literally kill you at anytime you idiot, this is so dangerous." Nicky points out the irony of the person who's a "threat" scolding him for being reckless.

One evening, Terry and Nicky are in Terry's private chambers (which includes a drawing room, they're not just in his bedroom) having an informal conversation, which turns to the betrayal. Things get heated, with Nicky being still furious at Terry's actions but also furious at his guilt, and Terry blaming himself and being upset that Nicky is even here. To prove a point, Nicky pulls out a knife and poises it ready to stab through Terry's heart. And Terry just, lets him. He has every reason to believe that Nicky is about to murder him then and there and he makes no move to stop it.

For the record, this scene is very homoerotic. Like, Terry's bathed in moonlight while Nicky pins him down on an elegent recliner with the knife, they're both in very casual attire, that kind of thing. Just fyi.

Grant, his bodyguard senses flaring up, bursts in to see Nicky about to stab Terry and tackles him to the ground, knocking the knife away. Morgan, Lark, Sparrow, and the teens (who would all be in rooms nearby) also run in, and see Grant pinning Nicky to the floor, a knife on the ground, and Terry just kind of sitting there, not looking too worried about any of this. Grant is convinced Nicky was about to murder Terry, Nicky would like to point out that he was never actually going to stab Terry, and Terry's just kind of like "no, everything's alright, don't worry about" without explaining anything.

Hermie: Wait. He was going to stab you-

Nicky: No, I wasn't

Hermie: -and you were just going to let it happen?

Terry: ..............no (unconvincingly)

Hermie: You were going to let yourself die and leave me alone?

Terry: *oh shit I didn't think about that*

Hermie: And Scary and I were just going to find out when exactly? When we walked in to find your heart ripped out in here?

Terry: *OH SHIT*

And then Terry frantically and awkwardly tries to comfort Hermie and Scary, which is difficult because yeah, he was going to let Nicky kill him, but he's since realised he was an idiot so no he's not going to do it anymore (but also the inclination is still there) Grant still has Nicky pinned to the floor btw

I don't have anything else yet but yeahhh

Aether I have the most delicious terrick scene in my mind but I can't convey it without like 20 minutes of backstory first because it's wrapped up in the depths of an au I'll never write. It involves Nicky holding a knife to Terry's chest though (with stabbing intent but also not really)

icy I need the 20 minutes of background rn . icy . icy you can't just say well there's this scene in my brain with terrick and stabbing but there's a lot of other stuff that leads up to it :( and not expect me to stare at you with grabby hands for the other stuff as well as the stabbing even if it is dm word vomit and not neat nice fic .

[youryanderedaddy]

Yandere! Butler x Princess!reader

tw: female reader, obsessive/possessive behaviour, provocative behaviour (reader), implied non - con, silght self - hate (situational)

 Maybe you weren't the most mature among your siblings - you weren't the smartest one, the strongest one or even the most elegant one and on top of that you were the youngest child. The princess in the shadows, the cliche old as time of the heir last to the throne, forgotten and neglected by everyone. Except for him.

 Perhaps you had done something wrong this time - everyone called you spoilt, ungrateful, out of line before, but now they wouldn't even come to visit you, leaving you all alone with your thoughts. You soon came to the conclusion that no matter how annoying you had been in the past weeks, you didn't deserve this sort of punishment. You hadn't seen your family for a long time now and you were starting to miss them. Your butler had almost taken the role of a caregiver, bringing you food, lecturing you and informing you of everything happening outside of your small pink room. It was frustrating, infuriating - you weren't a child anymore yet you were treated like one. You were sure it was one of your father's doings, no one else would be cruel enough to put you under home arrest - you were royalty after all.

 "Is it because of what I said to the Nordan prince on the Royal supper last month?" You asked Leo while he was folding your white shirts for the third time today. You briefly recalled telling the foreigner to fuck off when he tried to kiss your hand, absolutely creeped out by his flirty behavior. But the butler simply shook his head without lifting his gaze off the clothes and kept working.

 "Is it because I tried to bring my baby tiger to the spring ball?" You tried to guess again, looking through your memories for all the little tricks you had pulled these months. You never thought of yourself as a troublemaker but your parents usually pointed otherwise. The butler parted his lips in a slight smile and looked straight at you with his deep piercing eyes, unnaturally warm despite their cold gray colour.

 "I can't share this sort of information with you, My lady." He replied softly and discreetly fixed his glove - but you noticed anyways. The man never hesitated to notify you of the latest trends and gossip from the High Court, but became so secretive when it came to your family and their decisions. You didn't want to take it personally as you knew well that a part of his job was to be cautious and careful with sensitive information - but this involved you directly and you desperately needed to know why you were forbidden from leaving your room.

 After a few long minutes the boredom took over and you signed dramatically, laying down on the soft puffy white sheets, embroidered with golden and red string.

 "I want to do it." You admitted loudly, stretching your arms to the side. No one of importance could hear so you didn't care about manners or decency. "Find me a lover." You ordered firmly, staring at the silent man across the bed. Some twisted part of you wished to see him flustered, red-faced at your provocative request, but surprisingly, this wasn't the case.

 Leo's expression remained strict and professional, his demeanor - perfectly elegant. The only hint that he had heard your command was him slowly approaching you, eyes set on your frame.

 "You have never asked for such a thing before, My lady." He pronounced clearly, now standing right in front of you. The man was so close you could make out the golden buttons on his black classic coat and the bitter disappointment in his pupils. "Please, remember your position." He continued, his voice breaking out of its learned monotone robotic tone for a single moment, but the words were still painfully similar to the ones you used to hear by your father back in the day when he scolded for doing what all the normal peasant kids were doing.

 "I don't care." You spat out with poison you weren't aware of - maybe the royal life wasn't for you after all. Not that you had a choice in the matter. "I want to be held and pleasured until down by someone skilled. Make sure to find a pretty one." You added lastly, giving the butler a sly smile and running your tongue along your lips for a better image of what was to come despite all the warnings he could give you. You were tired of being denied the simple joys life could offer just because of your status. And at the end of the day the man was nothing more than a mouthy subordinate with too much arrogance and free time on his hands. He couldn't stop you, not really.

 "I am afraid I cannot do that, princess." Leo stated in a stern voice, his gloved hand touching your face gently, in a barely noticeable way. "I can't let ordinary people taint your beautiful soft skin with their filthiness. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if someone else ruined your purity, My lady." The butler whispered, his finger moving along your cheekbones down to your hot neck. His words were so bold and daring, but there was something about the way he was looking at you that made you determined to put him in his place - even if his warm touch made you sick to your core. You couldn't raise the white flag just yet.

 "Then would you corrupt me?" You snapped back at him, ready to perform your best role. You fluttered your eyelashes, rocked your hips towards the man and wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to his strong, muscular body, hidden underneath the expensive fabric. "You seem worried about other men using me so maybe you are the one deserving..." You paused to lower your voice seductively while you watched his handsome face wrinkle in sadness and heartache. "Of this body." You finished the sentence by smirking victoriously. You knew that it was wrong to take it so far and mess with Leo's feelings but this little stunt made you feel better about how little in control you actually were most of the time.

 "It would be an honour, My lady." The butler responded unexpectedly, a slight blush adorning his cheeks, while he reached to brush off a lock of hair, covering your eye. He caressed your face lovingly. This wasn't right. He should have been disgusted by you, threatening to tell your father or even worse - but instead the man was placing small kisses along your jawline.

 Maybe you should have told him it was a joke. Maybe you should have tried to fight or scream or call for help. But what difference would it make - no one cared enough about the youngest child. Even if you died, there were many other options to choose from.

 You can't help but wish that Leo too would realise it was pointless to adore someone like you. If only for him to stop touching you so tenderly it makes you cry. It's the first time that someone shows you genuine affection. It hurts and it makes you sick, but it's better than being forgotten. Or so you tell yourself again and again in the darkness of the night. You can't fall asleep.

[shijiujun]

[END 2020] My Top 9 Danmei Novel Picks of the Year

As a part of my Round Up post for the year, here’s my pick of favourite danmei novels, that I’ve read! This is sort of an accompaniment to my previous danmei rec list over HERE, so there may be one or two overlaps, but I’ve read WAY MORE after that and am prepared to like give more options here 

Note: There should be English translations for all via novel updates if you do a search of the English name, but I don’t think most of them are completed.

If you wanna see my full reading and queue list (it’s all in Chinese tho, for my own records), it’s here.

I’m leaving out the usual MXTX and Priest ones, because they’re already good and we all know that and there’re many carrds and posts dedicated to them.

I am also a sucker for fainting but smart men, and not too overly angsty/complicated storylines, just putting it out there first, which is why I haven’t read a lot of some of the ones on my queue list.

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1. 一剑霜寒 | A Sword of Frost by 语笑阑珊

Summary: Jing Yan Ran is the Emperor’s brother and wields military power in the novel, and it starts with an object being stolen from the palace. Jing Yan Ran has to retrieve the item secretly, and so enlists the help of Feng Yu Sect’s Sect Master, Yun Yi Feng, who heads the martial arts world’s one and only information trading post. Yun Yi Feng does not deal in business that involves any royalty, but Jing Yan Ran offers him something he cannot refuse - the Blood Red Lingzhi, a rare and mystical herb that is rumoured to be able to treat his life-threatening condition. 

Yun Yi Feng was used by his shifu when he was younger to test out all kinds of poisons and cures, and since then, his body flushes dangerously hot and cold frequently, with bouts of severe coughing fits in between. Throughout the first mission where he spends time with Jing Yan Ran searching for the stolen object, he allows Jing Yan Ran to take care of him, and they fall in LURVE pretty much like 10 chapters in.

Of course, they have to uncover a plot and conspiracy against their enemies who are plotting to dethrone the Emperor, and also reveal the secrets of Yun Yi Feng’s birth.

My Thoughts: AN ABSOLUTE FAVE AND GEM, I’d say this is my favourite danmei novel ever. This is both hilarious and tears-inducing, to be honest, because for most of the novel YYF knows he doesn’t have long to live and so in the beginning he knows of his own feelings for JYR and JYR also shows him that he loves him, but he is unable to officially reciprocate because he knows his body is like weakening day by day. Halfway through the fear that he’s literally about to die as they are JUST about to find the cure is real, and damn I cried so much at that. Some highlights:

YYF falls asleep very easily in baths and everywhere actually, and pretty much within the first 10 chapters he gets used to JYR carrying him around (even naked from the bath, he’s like oh well, okay cool) and taking care of him, and JYR ALWAYS makes sure he is warm and toasty under his cape

YYF LOVESSSS RICHES, PLAYING THE ZITHER AND COOKING - He’s good at gathering the first one, but he FUCKING SUCKS AS THE LAST TWO - It’s so funny because he’s so beautiful and handsome right, and when he sits down at the zither everyone is like OH DAMN WHAT A DREAM- and then he plays, and everyone’s fantasies is shattered, he’s ABYSMAL at it, and the same goes for cooking

JYR doesn’t actually have the Blood Red Lingzhi, and throughout the first arc, he feels SO DAMN GUILTY because YYF even carved out a pendant that looks like what he thinks the herb looks like, and like carries it with him everywhere LMAO

Available: Novel Online and Manhua on Bilibili

2. 高能二维码 | High Energy QR Code by 青色羽翼

Summary: CEO Xing Ye’s brother Xing Shuo has just passed away at the age of 24, and nothing will make him believe that Xing Shuo died of natural causes despite autopsies and experts telling him that he really died simply of a heart failure. Xing Ye, who has impeccable memory, suddenly recalls the last time he saw Xing Shuo. His brother called out to him just before Xing Ye left for a business trip, and looked as if he had something to say, but ended up just wishing him a safe trip.

At that moment, there was a QR code on Xing Shuo’s phone, and the phone screen was strangely turned out towards Xing Ye, and Xing Ye, with his incredibly high IQ and memory, realizes that Xing Shuo wanted him to see the QR code. Quickly, he reproduces the QR code by pen and then scans it, and finds himself in a game world.

There he meets a narcissistic but also cute mirror which can speak, and finds out later that his name is Lu Ming Ze. Xing Ye’s mission is to clear the game missions in each round that is set by the black and white cubic game system, a system that continuously tempts its players into giving in to committing sins such as killing someone else, stealing and other things. He soon realizes that if he cannot stay on a path clear of these sins, he will never be able to triumph over the game system and return Lu Ming Ze back to his body in the real world. 

At the same time, he gains new teammates and friends for life, and also finds out what role his brother played in this game. 

My Thoughts: MY GOD I LOVE THIS. I LITERALLY JUST FINISHED READING THIS YESTERDAY, and honestly it’s one of my faves. I don’t like game systems very often (I’ve read three others so far, and this, and KOD are the only ones I’ve liked) but this one is *chef’s kiss*. So LMZ was born like with a really handsome face, like SUPER HANDSOME, and that’s why he’s like a harmless narcissist that cannot bear to look at ugly things LMAO, but he’s not spoilt, he makes sure that Xing Ye stays true to himself, and help him keep his head clear. 

THE ONLY THING ABOUT THIS FRICKIN NOVEL IS THAT LU MING ZE STAYS A MIRROR, LIKE DIFFERENT KINDS OF MIRRORS, in the first TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY CHAPTERS. I KID YOU NOT. I FRICKIN KID YOU NOT. I swear I was sooo touched starved at the end of the novel, because they couldn’t even kiss?!! Like Xing Ye kisses the mirror, and then uses his thumbs to like hi-five mini LMZ in the mirror back, they can’t even hug. Do you know how empty my arms felt when I read this book?!! And my arms have never been filled!!!!!!

I really like this one because each game world is set up in such a brilliant way, but it’s not so unnecessarily complex that you literally don’t know what the fuck is going on. Xing Ye’s intelligence as he outmanoeuvres every single one of his enemies and convinces his would-be loyal teammates to trust him is so satisfying, world after world, victory after victory.

Humour is also absolutely ON POINT. A lot of it is centred on Xing Ye getting caught in the real world kissing his handheld mirror (LMZ) by LMZ’s parents (who cannot see him in the mirror) and LMZ’s parents going like ???!!!!!!!! 

Available: Novel Online | Physical Novel is coming out on 10 Dec (freebies are, you guessed it, a mirror)

3. 妻为上 | The Wife is First by 绿野千鹤

Summary: This is set in a historical setting where men can marry other men, but it’s usually reserved for sons who were not borne by the official main first wife of the patriarch of the family, i.e. a son born by a concubine in a family may be forced to marry a man to keep him from being able to become the next family’s patriarch for example. This is because any family’s next leader needs to be able to have children with a wife who married in as a zheng shi (lawful wife), and not a ce shi (second wife) or any other concubines/mistresses etc. Most of these men who marry other men have to take them as their zheng shi and lawful spouse in a sense, and the same goes for the royal family.

The story starts with third prince Jing Shao, who was forced to marry Mu Han Zhang, a Marquis’ second son, by the Empress and Emperor, thereby officially and effectively cutting him out of the race for the throne. He’s mocked by the public as everyone knows what this means, and for the next 10 years, he neglects Mu Han Zhang, blaming him for his predicament, and deliberately showers his three other concubines with affection in front of him, but 10 years later, when Jing Shao is accused of treason, everyone leaves him except for Mu Han Zhang. They are chased to the edge of the cliff by soldiers, and Mu Han Zhang dies in his arms having taken an arrow meant for him earlier, and Jing Shao jumps off the cliff with his dead body, and promises that if there’s a next life, he will do everything Han Zhang says, and love him.

He wakes up immediately on the night of his marriage with Han Zhang, and realizes that he’s been given a second chance to make everything right. Han Zhang is definitely afraid of him, humiliated and angry when he first wakes up after how rough Jing Shao was with him earlier on their wedding night, and he has no memories of their past life. Jing Shao then sets to SHOWER HAN ZHANG with affection, love and basically everything, because he realized that this is the only person who stayed by his side until the end, and then he falls in love with Han Zhang properly this time, and also deals with every single person who maligned and schemed against him in his previous life, with Han Zhang by his side.

My Thoughts: OKAY BEFORE YALL GO INTO THE ‘WIFE’ terminology discourse and everything, in this case they do use the term ‘wife’ literally, and it’s a position, that while men frequently fall into (there are a lot of male ‘wives’ in this story), is also used to cut off like sons from inheriting the family and the fortune, and even titles. Male ‘wives’ aren’t looked down upon in this setting, in fact, Han Zhang gets a lot of leeway as one, and in his case he was also able to rise up the ranks to be an actual official later on, but the sad thing comes from sons who are most of the time forced to marry a male ‘wife’ for whatever reason, and then they are neglected as the son goes and find concubines, women he actually wants to sleep with - this is sad af yall. I don’t know, on one hand, yay for equality in marriage in this setting, but on the other hand like, damn, must you use same-sex marriage like that argh.

ANYWAY THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVES TOO?!!! I mean, especially when Jing Shao literally just goes into doting mode 200% and Han Zhang is totally like wtf why is he so nice to me is he scheming or something? And then he realizes that Jing Shao is really, really gentle towards him despite his reputation as a cruel, dark military commander, and Jing Shao always smiles at him. In any situation, especially in the beginning, when Han Zhang thought Jing Shao would not stand with him, Jing Shao literally just protects him no matter what, gives him everything, and cries, I love it. 

Especially because Han Zhang is the son of a concubine and he was bullied a lot in the Mu family, and the official Lady Mu married him off to Jing Shao in hopes that he would be unhappy for the rest of his life, and I suppose that came true in the first life, but in the second, Han Zhang gets all the love, respect and support he never got before in this family with Jing Shao and that makes me WEEP.

Available: Novel Online and Manhua on Kuaikan

4. 死亡万花筒 Kaleidoscope of Death by 西子绪

OOOH I intro-ed KOD here in my previous rec list. Still one of my faves and all-time re-reads, especially under the covers in the dark hehehe.

5. 你的距离 | Your Distance by 公子优 

Summary: Ting Shuang is a student at a German university, and has this handsome professor Bai Chang Yi who he swears kind of hates him. He’s just broken up with his longtime boyfriend, and then goes on this dating app that matches a profile with him based on distance. The app can also show the matched profile’s distance from him once they enter the same area, and Ting Shuang starts chatting with this Chinese guy on the app, who he finds out later, is 36 years old, 187cm in height and wears glasses. 

The guy is a little aloof and cool, very mature in his replies on the app, and somehow Bai Chang Yi finds out who he is later, as Ting Shuang starts complaining to him about his professor to Bai Chang Yi. Instead of getting angry and offended, BCY is pretty much amused and finds Ting Shuang cute. A few days later Ting Shuang finally realizes who it is he’s been texting, and after getting past the initial embarrassment and fear, they start dating for real, and they really fall in love!!!!! 

My Thoughts: This is sweet and also hilarious af, if you need to like satisfy your sweet tooth, this is definitely one for you. It’s really funny because Bai Chang Yi runs in the same circles as Ting Shuang’s dad, who he’s estranged from because the dad doesn’t want to recognize a son who is gay, and then BCY convinces him later in the funniest of ways, and there’s a small subplot at the end in which Ting Shuang is pretty cool, and yep, short and sweet! BCY in the manhua is handsome af too guys ;-;

Available: Novel Online, Audio Drama on Maoer FM and Manhua on Bilibili, 

6. 神木挠不尽 The White Cat’s Divine Scratching Post by 绿野千鹤

Summary: Mo Tian Liao, a weapons forger and master who ruled the Demon Tribe, was hunted down and killed by other righteous sects in the region when he managed to forge an incredibly destructive weapon that could end the world. Before he died, he placed the only thing he loved, a white cat, into a hole in the tree behind him to protect it. The only thing he was grateful for was that he did not create a blood pact with the cat, Xiao Mao, because if he had done so, when he died, Xiao Mao would have died along with him as well.

Right before he dies, unbeknownst to him, Xiao Mao who is no simple demonic cat, wraps part of his consciousness around Mo Tian Liao, and MTL’s spirit ends up floating about for 300 years, until he finds a suitable time to return with a body made out of a special tree and its wood. The first thing he does, of course, is to find his white cat, but he’s poor, and the body he has isn’t powerful, so he joins Wo Yun Sect, the only sect that did not hunt him down that day hundreds of years ago.

There, he is chosen by Qing Tong shizun to be his direct disciple, much to the astonishment of other shizuns in the sect, and Qing Tong’s shixiongs. MTL has never seen a person as beautiful and gorgeous as his shizun, and if only he could find that cat (who’s actually his shizun, who recognizes him and protects him, even if MTL doesn’t actually need much protection).

My Thoughts: This was hilarious as well, and so romantic?!!! Qing Tong/Xiao Mao waited for MTL to come back, and the moment he came back, Qing Tong was there ready to grab him, and then before he went to sleep that night, Qing Tong thought to himself, “I’ve gotten my person back, I can sleep well now” and AHHHHH at this point they weren’t even like a couple yet? MTL ‘kidnapped’ Qing Tong when he was a young demon cat by accident because he likes pretty things (like his shizun lmao) and Qing Tong is attached to him because MTL never forced a blood pact on him, and gave him everything he wanted as a younger cat before MTL died. Gosh, a mirror in #2 and then a cat now with this one. XD

Available: Novel Online

7. 破云 | Breaking the Clouds by 淮上

Summary: Three years ago, Captain Jiang Ting and his team of the Narcotics division perished in an explosion due to a wrong call of his, and he returns three years later under a new identity ready to deal with the people who set him and his team up. He’s caught in what seems to be a simple murder case almost immediately and meets Yan Xie, who’s Vice Captain and in charge of this case. Yan Xie realizes who Jiang Ting is shortly after, and begins to unravel the huge mystery surrounding the events of three years ago, and falls in love with Jiang Ting along the way as well.

My Thoughts: Okay out of the FOUR crime/detective/thriller danmei novels I’ve read, the poyun and tunhai (below) series is the one that MIRRORS actual narcotics division and undercovers the best. It has the complexity and depth of the drugs/narcotics world, and both this one and its sequel focuses a lot on the position of an undercover and mole. I liked this one a lot because there are SOOOO many twists especially in the last arc, like you honestly won’t see any of them coming until it hits you? And Yan Xie is such a confident, rich-ass narcissist, and he keeps asking Jiang Ting if he can “just touch” him ONCE lmao, he’s thick-skinned af, but that’s why he and Jiang Ting are so compatible ;-;.

Available: Novel Online, Novel Print, Audio Drama and Manhua on Bilibili

8. 吞海 | Swallowing the Sea by 淮上

Summary: Sequel to Po Yun. Yu Wu is a young-looking new detective under Captain Bu Chong Hua’s narcotics team. Bu Chong Hua is Yan Xie’s cousin by actual relation, but brother in relationship because BCH’s parents died early and Yan Xie’s parents have been taking care of him mostly. He cannot stand Yu Wu, who seems to want to coast through at work and keep to a 9-5 work schedule. 

It’s only after an altercation and Yu Wu dumping his nonchalant facade to snarl at BCH that he realizes that YW is actually more interesting and mysterious than he thought, and he begins to try to get close to him, understand him. It turns out that Yu Wu is a famous undercover who nearly died a year ago during an operation, and due to various reasons, he was assigned to BCH’s team by higher ups so he can peacefully live the rest of his life out there. However, his past catches up with him quickly, and his enemies turning up forces him to rely on BCH. 

With BCH, Yu Wu’s resentment of having to be an undercover in the past and being so easily discarded by his team’s leaders, and of him being forced to be in the shadows while others can announce their achievements to the world, is slowly erased, because BCH sees him, knows him, and understands him more than anyone else.

My Thoughts: I actually liked this one better than the first one - Yu Wu is such a pouty, angry little thing?! And for good reason (there’s a bit of cannibalism in the book, not by choice when he was younger and in a poor village in Cambodia, where some militants forced survivors in the village to eat the meat of boiled corpses of other villagers, so YW is a vegetarian, like if he eats meat he gets really sick) and the twists here are even more amazing?! BCH really, really, devotes himself to YW the moment he realizes how much he likes him, doing a 180 degree turn. Instead of Yan Xie’s flamboyance, BCH is much steadier, grouchy, like an old uncle, but also looks at things even more clearly than Yan Xie does sometimes. Yu Wu is understandably bitter about what he had to go through, and BCH is the ONLY person who can calm him down, whom he listens to, which I LOVE. Some highlights:

Yu Wu grew up in a poor village and thus loves money, and he fights in underground betting rings to earn more money - The stash of hidden money he collects I think is half for his escape money, but if he happens to never need it, his dream is to donate the money to his village so they can open up a school there - ANYWAY because Yan Xie’s parents, and technically BCH’s ‘parents’ are soooooo rich right, Yan Xie’s mom shows her approval to her son-in-laws (Jiang Ting first, then Yu Wu), by giving them winter pants. It’s kind of like inside warmers, and usually meant for older ladies to wear LOLOL so Yu Wu was like staring at the pants when he finally got them and looked soooo reluctant until Jiang Ting told him it costs $6,000 AND HE WAS LIKE :333333 okie

He acts a lot like a kid?!! He likes eating like some snack but it’s really unhealthy for him, and BCH the mother hen keeps catching him in weird places like the toilet, where he’s hiding from BCH so he can eat his fave snack?! And the whole police station knows not to give YW what he wants in terms of snacks and smokes because once BCH finds out, he makes life very difficult for them HAHAHAHA

9. 穿成反派如何活命 | How to Survive as A Villain by 伊依以翼

Summary: Rich and handsome CEO Xiao Yu An finds out he has a terminal illness (cancer), and dies while he’s reading this online novel, where a king mistreats the crown prince from a neighbouring state which sent him over as hostage after losing a war, and ends up being killed by the crown prince years later (SVSSS much?!). He wakes up AS THE KING, and afraid of dying, he immediately goes about befriending the prince, Yan He Qing. Yan He Qing falls in love with Xiao Yu An while being his friend/hostage/bodyguard, and Xiao Yu An tries to avoid all the deaths he read in the book, while making sure Yan He Qing manages to find his three/four wives, including Xiao Yu An’s sister.

Of course, because Xiao Yu An showed him warmth and kindness, Yan He Qing ends up falling for him instead, and Xiao Yu An is an absolute oblivious idiot because he REALLY doesn’t realize until much later. Yan He Qing ends up declaring war on Xiao Yu An’s kingdom because he is duty bound to do so, but doesn’t hurt Xiao Yu An, wanting to keep him by his side, but YHQ’s scheming uncle drives a wedge between them, and XYA leaves, breaking YHQ’s heart.

They meet again a few years later, where XYA is training to be a physician in a small village and chances upon a severely injured YHQ. There, he realizes that it was all a misunderstanding, and that YHQ actually LIKES, LIKES him, but before they can enjoy this short period of happiness, disaster strikes again.

My Thoughts: THIS WAS really enjoyable, and with the manhua visuals, it is *chef’s kiss*. I think this transmigration version actually delved into the part where XYA is unable to change everything, and if he saves one person, someone else is destined to die, and that moral dilemma devastates him a lot. In this novel he actually transmigrates TWICE, once into the king’s body, and the second time into a neighbouring state’s prince/king’s body, who looks exactly like his modern self after. YHQ is real sweet to him istg, and I like that the epilogues are SUPER EXTENSIVE, including an arc where YHQ and XYA transmigrate back to the real world and everyone who died is alive and close to them, and gets their happy ending ;-;

Available: Novel Online and Manhua on Bilibili

[luminnara]

Flying On Wings Made From Feathers And Wax | Ganondorf x Gerudo!oc chapter 2

Part one | Part two | Part three

Growing up in the Gerudo Desert is hard. 

The sun is merciless, especially to the small. For someone like Ilula, it is draining, seemingly determined to exhaust her as it beats down on her during the day. It will never stop doing so, but at a young age, she learned how to deal with it. 

The others called her lazy, but she considered herself clever. Just like the lizards that liked to snooze while they sunned themselves, she took naps during the day. It wasn’t that the other Gerudo didn’t—naps were almost a necessity in such a hot environment, and it was common to see be back in an hour signs hanging on merchant stalls—but Ilula simply napped more than the rest of them. 

It concerned her mother greatly. 

Kiluki took her daughter to the best healer in town, the one who looked after the chief and royal family, hoping to find answers about Ilula’s small stature. Just like the Hylian healers, though, this one declared that Ilula was, for the most part, fine, she was just...small. Small, and a bit weak. For Kiluki, a tall, strong vai, who had once been a member of the Chief’s guard, Ilula’s relatively tiny stature and shortcomings were cause for major concern; she knew that many Gerudo never joined the guard, and to keep Gerudo Town running, they needed all sorts. But she wanted Ilula to follow in her footsteps, to become stronger and braver than even she, and Kiluki feared that it was a dream that could never be.

Ilula knew that her mother worked, but what could she possibly do about it? It wasn’t anything that she could control. She spent her days playing or helping Uvira sell her produce while her mother advised the Chief, trying to forget the way that she couldn’t reach things the other girls could. As she grew older, it became obvious that she would never hit a growth spurt, and while Ganondorf shot up like a weed, Ilula stayed at least a head shorter than the others her age. 

“C’mon, pipsqueak!” Ganondorf scooped her up one day, interrupting her midday nap.

“Gan!” She yelped in surprise as he threw her over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

“Not a chance,” the prince grinned as he ran towards the palace. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I’ve got something to show you.”

Even at twelve years old, Ganondorf could carry her easily. He spent his days studying and training, his mother keeping a watchful eye over him and ensuring that her son would become strong and capable. While Ilula had already finished most of her schooling, knowing how to read and write and do simple math, the prince had many years of studies still ahead of him, his chambers lined with shelves full of thick books. Being royalty meant that he needed to know everything about the world, and he enjoyed reading about Hyrule and its politics and history. Ilula didn’t share quite as much appreciation for the Hylian kingdom neighboring the desert, but whenever he was reading, she had a chance to take a nice nap in his incredibly soft bed, and that was something she could absolutely appreciate. 

“It better not be stupid,” she grumbled with a yawn. “Interrupting me on my day off…”

“Day off from what?” He snorted. “You can’t even start real training until you’re twelve. That’s a whole month away.”

“So?” She argued.

“So you can’t possibly be too busy for me,” he rolled his eyes. “Sav’aaq!” He called to the guards at the top of the steps as he passed them. 

“Sav’aaq, my prince!” They snapped to attention, bowing their heads. “Ilula, sav’aaq.”

“Sav’aaq,” Ilula mumbled. She was used to the guards keeping watch over her and the prince, and they had all developed a certain fondness for Ganondorf’s runt of a friend. 

Ganondorf carried her through the throne room, past the chief and her advisors as they pored over a map of Hyrule. They bowed to him as he walked by and he grunted in acknowledgement, too focused on his task to stop and ask what they were doing. 

They allowed him to rush by without interruption. He only had a few years of childhood left before the burdens of leadership would fall on his shoulders, and his mother wished that he enjoyed his time as much as he could. He was growing into a fine young voe, the Sheikah prophecy a distant memory now, and As any voe, he should be enjoying the years of his youth as much as possible.

When he reached his chambers, he threw Ilula down onto his bed. She laughed as she bounced, sitting up to look at him as he grabbed a wooden box from his desk.

“Here,” he said, slightly out of breath as he pushed it into her hands. 

She took it, hearing something rattle inside. “What is it?”

“Just open it!”

With an inquisitive glance up at him, she slid the lid off the box. Inside, something was glimmering, reflecting the light of the desert sun that streamed in through the windows. As Ilula reached inside, she picked up a set of earrings, a teardrop-shaped sapphire hanging from each hook. 

“Oh, Gan,” she breathed, holding the jewelry in her palm as she stared down at it, “these are beautiful…”

He was watching her anxiously. “Do you like them?”

“I do!” She looked up at him with a wide smile. 

The prince let out the breath he had been holding, relieved. “Oh, good.”

“Did you have these made?” Ilula asked, peering closely at the stones. 

“I did,” he smiled. “Just for you. Well, actually, they were going to be a birthday present, but Amira finished them early. I couldn’t hold my tongue for an entire month.”

“This is the best early birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” she beamed up at him. “Thank you, Gan.”

“Oh, they’re not a birthday gift anymore,” he laughed. “I figured out something else for your birthday. These are just normal gifts now.”

Ilula raised an eyebrow. “You really shouldn’t be spending so much time spoiling me, you know…”

“Or what?” He laughed. “You’re my best friend, Lula. You deserve gifts.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m not going to accept them,” she grinned at him as she stood and walked to the mirror on the wall. 

“I put a spell on them.” he blurted out. “To help you stay cool in the sun. Sapphires are good for that.”

She glanced back at him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I had the jeweler make them and then I enchanted them. I’m supposed to be practicing, and I wanted to try it out…”

“I can’t believe you know magic,” Ilula said as she faced her reflection. “I wish I could put spells on things.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” he shrugged. 

“Shut up,” she laughed. “It’s a super big deal!”

He watched with a serene smile on his face as she took out the big gold hoops she was wearing and replaced them with her new earrings. Just as he had hoped, the bright blue sapphires contrasted perfectly with her fiery red hair…though the thick green band she used to keep it up off of her shoulders didn’t match at all. He made a mental note to add a new, nicer one to the small pile of birthday gifts he would be giving her in a few weeks. 

Ilula admired the way the sapphires hung from her pointed ears. She had to admit…Ganondorf had an eye for jewelry. Maybe it was because he had so much of it himself; as she looked at his reflection behind her, she could count no less than ten incredibly expensive precious stones on his head and arms alone. The perks of being a prince, she supposed.

When he noticed her watching her, he suddenly shuffled his feet awkwardly, glancing away for a moment before looking down at his hands. 

“I’m, uh…glad you like them.” He mumbled. 

“Gan, don’t be sheepish,” Ilula laughed, turning to face him.

He looked up at her, hoping that she couldn’t see the blush on his face. She was the only person who ever made his skin heat up like that, the only Gerudo he ever wanted to be around, the only vai whose hand he wanted to hold. It confused him, the way he felt about his best friend, but he was headstrong and determined not to shy away from whatever he was beginning to feel. 

“I’ve never seen a sheep,” he chuckled. “What does sheepish mean?”

Ilula’s laughter grew louder as she plopped down on the edge of his bed and looked up at him. “They’re soft. Hylians cut their hair and make things with it. They look like fluffy little clouds with legs.”

Ganondorf grinned. “I can’t wait until I’m king and I can see all of Hyrule. I want to go to the castle, see the Hylians.”

“It’s a long walk,” Ilula said. “…well, Mama carried me most of the way, I think. I don’t really remember much of it. I know it rained a lot before we got to the outskirts, though.”

Ganondorf suddenly sighed and turned to the window. He walked towards it, placing his hands on the cool sandstone and leaning on them as he looked out over Gerudo Town and the wide, flat desert outside the gates. 

“What is it like there?” He asked, gazing towards the distant mountains that marked the Gerudo Highlands and the edge of Hyrule. 

Ilula frowned at his change in demeanor and stood to join him. “It’s…green. Everything is green, and you can smell all the plants. And there’s so much water, everywhere…when it rains, it isn’t like here. It just rains for a few hours, and then the sky clears up again, and the birds come back out.”

“It sounds…nice.” He admitted.

“It is,” she agreed. “You can just lean down and drink out of a stream if you’re thirsty. And if you’re hungry, there are apple trees all over! And fish in the rivers, and boar in the woods…”

“I like boar,” Ganondorf laughed.

“Yeah, they taste pretty good, I guess. When you add enough spices.” Ilula shrugged.

“No, not to eat!” He looked at her like she was crazy. “I like the way they look. Those big tusks…there are drawings of them in some of my books. I’ve always liked them.”

“Yeah, I guess they’re pretty cool.” Ilula giggled. “There are lots of other animals, too.”

“Life there must be easy.” He commented. “The Hylians have it all.”

“What do you mean?” Ilula frowned. “I thought you liked the desert.”

“I do, I just…wish we had things like grass and trees and forests. I wish we lived more comfortably.”

“You live very comfortably.” Ilula snorted. 

“What do you mean?” He looked down at her, nose wrinkled slightly. 

“Uh, all of this?” She gestures to the room around them. “The palace? You’re royalty. You hardly have to worry.”

“I have to think about our people!” He argued. “What’s Castle Town like?”

“Busy and big.” Ilula shrugged. “The streets are all made of stone, and there’s a big market where people from all over sell things. Mama didn’t let me go there very much, because of the way the Hylians are sometimes.”

Ganondorf looked down at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“They don’t really…trust Gerudo that much.” She folded her arms, hugging herself lightly. “They don’t treat the Rito or the Zora like Hylians, either, but they like them more than they like us.”

As Ganondorf listened, he considered her words. “I’m going to change that.”

“You’re going to change how they think?” She asked skeptically.

“I’m going to show them that they should respect us.” He said. 

“How?”

“Maybe I’ll…send them aid, if they have a natural disaster.” He thought out loud. “Or take a big delegation to visit the castle, or invite them here.”

“The king can’t enter Gerudo Town,” Ilula laughed. “You’re the only voe allowed. Remember, you spoiled prince?”

“Oh. Right.” He chuckled. “Well, I’m going to be in charge someday. I’ll have to figure out this whole diplomacy thing.”

Ilula smiled softly as she looked up at him. “I’m sure you’ll be good at it.”

He grinned down at her. “Only if you help me.”

She returned the grin. “Deal.”

“I don’t think I could handle the throne without you,” he bumped her with his shoulder, nearly throwing her into the wall. “I still have so much I have to learn.”

Ilula stumbled, but she didn’t fall like the last few times he had forgotten how big he was. “That’s why kings always have advisors. Nobody can run everything by themselves.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He sighed, his attention returning to the world outside his window. “I’ve got six whole years to figure it out, though.”

“Yeah, and it’ll be fine.” She tried to bump her shoulder into his arm with the same force that he had, but he didn’t budge. “Hey, seriously, are you made of rock?”

He barked a laugh. “No, I’m just bigger than you!”

“Well stop it!” She snapped, only half serious. “If you keep this up, you’re not even going to be able to see me!”

“Maybe you should just start catching up!” He retorted.

“I would if I could.” She rolled her eyes. “My mom keeps making me go to the healers to figure out why I’m so short. I keep trying to tell her that it’s not that big a deal, but she won’t listen.” 

As she spoke, her tone grew more serious, until it had Ganondorf frowning. “You’re fine.”

“That’s what I keep saying, but it doesn’t matter.” Ilula sighed. “She’s always worrying that I’m going to get hurt because I’m fragile. I always tell her that I’m not, and I know I’m not because you’re always throwing me down off the walls or into the aqueducts or whatever, but she just always gets mad and tells me to be more careful.”

“Do I ever hurt you?” Ganondorf asked, his eyes wide in alarm. 

“No, you don’t,” Ilula shook her head. “I’m serious, I’m not that fragile, but all she ever sees is me lagging behind everyone else. That’s why I want to start training with the guards, so I can show her that I’m fine.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “You know, if you start training, you’ll be busy all the time…”

“Gan, they train literally right outside your window.” She rolled her eyes. “You won’t miss me. I’ll be right there.” 

“…oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“But I bet my mom is going to be all worried about me training, too.” She sighed. “Until i show her that I’m not some fragile little flower. You know, back in Castle Town, I was always the biggest kid. She didn’t worry as much back then.”

“Do you ever miss it there?” Ganondorf asked, studying her face. 

“Sometimes. I miss everything I could get at the market, and I do miss my father. But…I didn’t fit in there. I guess I don’t really fit in here, either.”

“Yes you do.” He nudged her with his elbow, gentler this time. “You’re Gerudo. You belong here, with your people. With me.”

Ilula smiled up at him. “I know, Gan. I think it’s less about the place, and more about who’s there. You know?”

He looked down at her, his heart fluttering in a way he wasn’t used to. “Yeah. I know.”

000

On Ilula’s twelfth birthday, she woke to the smell of meat cooking over the fire. As soon as her eyes were open, she remembered what day it was, and she shot out of bed to investigate the main room of the home she and her mother shared.

“Sav’otta, my little desert flower,” Auntie Uvira greeted her as she prepared breakfast over the small wok in the middle of the room. “Sleep well?”

“Fine,” Ilula shrugged. “Where’s Mom?”

“Right here,” Kiluki appeared in the doorway, a parcel in her hands. 

Ilula eyed it. “Sav’otta, Mama.”

“Sav’otta, Ilula,” Kiluki smiled, holding the parcel out towards her. “Happy birthday.”

Ilula lunged for it excitedly, tearing the wrappings open while Uvira yelled at her to be mindful of the fire. 

As the brown paper fell away, airy pink fabric was revealed, and Ilula pulled out a bandeau top. Matching pants were next, made of a thin, breathable weave, and as she rushed back to her room to try the new outfit on, Kiluki smiled. 

“How do I look?” Ilula asked breathlessly when she returned, holding her arms out as she spun around to show it off.

“Oh, it’s stunning!” Uvira clapped.

“I think it suits you perfectly,” Kiluki nodded. “How is the fit?”

“I think it’s good. What’s for breakfast?” Ilula was buzzing with energy, bouncing over to look at what Uvira was cooking. 

“This is for later,” her aunt laughed as she sprinkled in some Goron spices. 

“We will be eating breakfast at the palace,” Kiluki informed her daughter. “That’s why I wanted to give you that gift first thing in the morning. You should look your best.”

Ilula grinned. Eating at the palace meant getting to see Ganondorf, and as she rushed to get ready, she wondered what sort of gifts he had in store for her. 

She found out soon after she walked through the impressive archway and approached the throne. The chief sat with her hands on its armrests, her back straight as she looked down at Ilula and Kiluki.

“The prince and queen mother are awaiting your arrival, Ilula,” she said, her voice firm and strong. “I would not keep them waiting. Kiluki, if I could have a quick word.”

Ilula glanced up at her mother in confusion, but when Kiluki waved her off, she was eager to run towards the dining hall. It was her birthday, after all, and she wasn’t going to allow herself to worry about anything. Whatever the chief wanted wasn’t of her concern, and when she saw Ganondorf waiting for her with a pile of gifts, any and all thoughts about what her mother could possibly be needed for flew out the window.

“Happy birthday, Ilula,” Ganondorf’s mother, Mira, said, a smile on her face as she watched her son shove a box into Ilula’s arms.

The Gerudo royal family spared no expense. Ganondorf had given her a sapphire necklace, one that matched the earrings, and a ruby wrist cuff that he said would keep her warm at night when the desert winds pierced Gerudo Town. His eyes lit up at the sight of her happiness, and though he had certainly given her birthday gifts before, he was especially glad to see that all of his hard work and pondering over what to get had all paid off this year. He gave her a new sirwal, the light, baggy pair of pants a bright white with golden accents threaded throughout. Then came an assortment of her favorite candied fruits, a beautiful sand sealskin journal, and the biggest breakfast feast she had ever seen.

By the time the unwrapping was finished, the table was covered in a plethora of delicacies. Everything from platters of sliced hydromelons, to gourmet meats hunted in the highlands, to rare seafood brought all the way from the coast, was piled up and presented to Ilula. It was a lavish celebration, the kind usually reserved for holidays or royal birthdays, and with Kiluki returning from the throne room to partake, the festivities were finally truly underway. 

The adults drank as the children laughed and played. They were nearly too old to be doing so, both nearing the age at which they would begin training for adulthood, and one last romp before it all started seemed to be in order. The day was full of merriment and their spirits were high, and as the two tore out of the palace to get themselves into trouble elsewhere, Mira turned to Kiluki with a sigh. 

“He will be devastated,” she said.

“As will she.” Kiluki raised her cup to her lips and drank. 

“How long do you have?”

“I do not know.” Kiluki lifted her eyes. “Ryla did not say…all I know is that we are to return to Castle Town when she deems fit.”

“Why is she sending both of you?” Mira asked. “I hardly see the sense in taking Ilula away from her training.”

“I believe she wants us to keep up appearances.” Kiluki sighed. “Perhaps by the two of us seeming to return home, the Hylians will be less on edge.”

“Still…” Mira sighed again. “I am sure we will all be focused on our tasks, but your absence will be hard.”

“I only wish I knew when we would be leaving.” Kiluki frowned. “Ryla told me that it could be tomorrow, or in five years.”

“And I don’t suppose you’ll be allowed to visit home…”

“I doubt it.”

“Not even if Ganondorf requests it?”

Kiluki pursed her lips. “Perhaps after he takes the throne, he will summon us back to Gerudo Town. I should hope he will see the value in placing me amongst the Hylians, though, and so close to the royal family…”

“Like a spitting sand cobra, nestled right within their own walls,” Mira chuckled. “You must do your job well, for Ryla to send you back again.”

“Yes, I suppose I must. Though it was easier back then.”

“Will you return to that voe?”

Kiluki wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps, if he is willing to see reason.”

“What did you even fight about?”

“Everything.” She shrugged. “Hylian voe have a single use. The rest of the time, they are wholly disagreeable.”

Mira threw her head back and laughed, the hearty sound echoing off the sandstone walls. “That they are! That they most certainly are.”

[onlyfreds]

TRP Prologue - Welcome to the Story of Y/N L/N

Summary: To others, being princess is living the dream. To Y/N, it’s a living nightmare. But, that was until the day that she received the letter that changed her life and met the people who love her for her true self.

Warning/s: use of the word “damn”

Series Masterlist

Anybody else would think that being the first-born Princess is literally living the dream.

Let me tell you, it’s not.

“Y/N, put down the book and head downstairs for the Family portrait.” My mother, Queen Ahnica, snapped as she entered my room.

I sighed, placing a bookmark on the page I was currently reading, “Do we honestly have to do this mother? We already did this last year.”

She glared at me, “Do you always have to ask? Now stop this nonsense and give them a smile when we get down. We don’t want the press giving a bad image, don’t we?”

I mentally rolled my eyes as I followed her out of the room, “Yes mother.”

We headed down to the lounge where the royal photographer, my father (King Michael), and my younger sister (Princess Christel) were waiting for us.

I sat down beside my sister, who gave me a sympathetic smile as she placed her hand on top of mine.

“Don’t worry.” She reassured, “This’ll all be over in a minute.”

And boy did that minute feel like an hour.

When we had finished, Clark, our chief of staff approached us.

“Your highnesses,” he greeted, giving a small bow, “There is someone wanting to see you.”

My mother and father exchanged a confused look, before we followed Clark into the guest lounge.

Standing there was a middle-aged woman, her hair in a tight bun and a stern but gentle look on her face.

“Good day Mr. and Mrs. L/N, or should I say your highnesses.” She said, giving a curtsy,

My father smiled, “Good day Ma’am. What assistance could we offer you?”

The woman chuckled, “My name is McGonagall and I’m just here to give your daughter, Princess Y/N, a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

I looked up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time, “Me?”

My sister looked at me excitedly.

The woman nodded, handing me an envelope with the words, Princess Y/N L/N, Montenaro Palace.

Christel nudged my shoulder, “Go on, open it.” She encouraged.

I opened it and pulled out the letter inside.

Dear Mr/Ms. L/N,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

I looked up again at the woman, my parents were both stunned into silence, “Am I really going to learn magic?”

McGongall nodded, “Indeed dear, and at the best wizarding school Britain has to offer.”

“But magic isn’t real.” My mother interjected.

McGonagall brought out a thin, stick and with a small wave of her hand, bubbles erupted from it. She then pointed to a teacup on a nearby table, turning it into a teapot.

“So magic is real?” Christel asked in awe.

McGonagall nodded, “It is.”

I turned to my parents as I gave them a pleading look, “Please mum, dad. Can I go.”

My parents exchanged a silent argument before my father said, “You may go. But if this is some sort of scam. You will regret dragging my daughter into this.”

The woman nodded, “You will regret nothing your highness.”

She then turned to me, “I’ll be meeting up with you next week to get your school supplies.”

As soon as she left, my mother turned to my father, “How could you let her? She’s ten! She should be attending finishing school, not some sort of magic school with a bunch of idiots!”

My father sighed, “We’ve taught her everything that she could be taught in finishing school ever since she was five. She’ll be fine.”

--

When September first rolled around, McGonagall brought me to King’s Cross Station and she had instructed me how to board on to Platform 9 and 3/4. Thankfully, I was able to leave before my parents realized that I was wearing “normal” clothes. Because if they did, I would’ve received a full lecture about maintaining an image for the press.

To be honest, jeans and a shirt were a lot more comfortable than a corset and a gown.

At first, I thought it was absurd. But after seeing the serious look on her face, I decided to give it the benefit of the doubt and run into the barrier in between Platforms 9 and 10.

I closed my eyes, braced myself for impact. But a cold chill came over me before I heard the chatter of a lively crowd, I opened my eyes, seeing a red and black train with a sign that said, Hogwarts Express.

A hopped onto the train, looking for a spare compartment. I didn’t expect anyone to recognize me as the princess, and I wish they wouldn’t.

I found a compartment that was occupied by two identical looking gingers.

I gently knocked on the compartment door, sliding it open a bit before asking, “Excuse me, but is it okay if I sat here? Everywhere else was full.”

One of them nodded, “Of course you may. I’m George by the way.” He said, offering his hand with I shook, giving him a small smile.

He then nodded to the boy sitting opposite of him, “That’s my twin brother, Fred.”

Fred stared at me, his mouth slightly agape, “Bloody hell, you’re gorgeous.”

I bit my lip, feeling my cheeks heat up as Fred was snapped out of his trance by George laughing.

“Oh, sorry.” He apologized, grinning sheepishly.

I giggled, “It’s fine.”

The three of us bonded over the train ride and became fast friends.

Despite the fact that Fred and George were identical twins, I had absolutely no trouble telling them apart, though something about Fred made my heart race a bit faster and the butterflies to rise up to my stomach.

--

It’s been three years since I first met the twins. I was now in my fourth year at Hogwarts.

Before I headed down to the Great Hall for Lunch, I adjusted the necklace I was wearing.

Once I arrived, I immediately slipped into the seat between the twins.

Hermione took a sip of her pumpkin juice, looking up from her book, “Where did you get that?”

I looked at her, slightly confused, “Where did I get what?”

“That necklace.”

I looked down and realized that I wasn’t able to hide my necklace in my blouse properly.

“My mum gave it to me.” I managed to stutter out.

“Why? What’s wrong with her necklace?” Ginny asked, “It seems alright to me.”

Everyone in our group was watching me and Hermione, obviously interested in the exchange.

“Well, it’s not just any necklace.” Hermione stated, “There’s only one necklace like that.”

Fred chuckled, “Hermione, I’m sure that necklace is one of billions.”

“No.” She insisted, “There is only one necklace like that and it belongs to the first-born princess of Montenaro.”

She stared at me intently, I could almost see the gears turning in her brain. Besides, she was called the “brightest witch of her age” for a reason.

“Oh Godric!” She gasped and I knew she had come to her conclusion, “What was your last name again?” She asked.

I sighed, “L/N.”

“How did I not notice it before?” She said, most likely to herself, “It makes so much sense now.”

“Hermione, not all of us are geniuses here. So, mind catching us up on what exactly makes sense?” Harry joked.

“The reason why Y/N has that necklace, even though it’s super rare, is because she is the first-born princess of Montenaro. She’s part of the L/N family, she’s basically royalty.” Hermione explained excitedly.

The group looked at me for confirmation.

“Is it true love?” Fred asked softly, “You’re a princess?”

I nodded, letting out a quiet, “yes.”

Everyone was dead silent; you would have thought that someone had just dropped dead in front of us.

Angelina was the first one to break the silence, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

I sighed, “I didn’t want you guys to treat me differently. Because when your royalty and others see you, all people can think about is: she’s the princess, she’s next in line for the throne. And being princess, I’m never free. Every decision is made for me, every word, every moved has to be supervised because there’s always some sort of protocol that’s against it. You guys love me and care about me not because I’m the princess. But because you see the real me. You don’t see me as ‘Princess Y/N’, you guys see me as just Y/N.”

I felt Fred hold my hand under the table as I continued, “Here, I am able to be myself, without having to worry about the damn rules or the press. That’s why I spend every holiday I could at the Burrow. Because I like being free. Because I’ve felt more at home there that when I’ve spent a portion of my life at the palace. That’s why I kept my identity a secret. I feared that when you guys learned the truth, you would treat me differently.”

Fred and George encased me in a “Weasley twin hug” as the former kissed the top of my head.

“We’ll always love you darling.” He whispered, “Whether you’re royalty or not.”

I smiled, “Really? You’re not mad that I kept all of this a secret?”

George chuckled, “Of course we’re not.”

“Fred’s right. To us, your being a princess is just a title, but what matters is the side of Y/N that you want to show us.” Ginny added.

I laughed as all of them wrapped me in a group hug, “What did I do to deserve friends like you guys.”

Fred laughed, running a hand through my hair, “What did we do to deserve being friends with an actual princess?”

“Way to ruin the moment, Freddie!”

“Did you have to bring it up now?”

The rest of the group chimed as they playfully scolded Fred.

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@lumosandnoxwriting @gostupid-godumb @famdomhideout @nova-darling @gaycatlord-stuff  @pandaxnienke @escapingrealitybyreading @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts @lunylovelovegood @thefallengodesse (Send a Message/Ask or fill out my taglist form if you want to be added!)

𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@dobbys-leftsock @freddiemylovelg @georgeweasleyswhre @gostupid-godumb @robinisfreddieshoe​ @potters-heart @evieevergreen @fandomscombine @messagesinthesky @the-romanian-is-bae @thefallengodesse

[shortiedreams]

Nobles in the night

Requested by @jwxei

Pairing: Bakugo x (fem) Reader 

Synopsis: You’re a princess set out to kill the king of your nation. Will you succeed?

Word count: 1,821

CW: Attempted murder

A/N: Played ‘Phantom of the Opera’ soundtracks whilst writing this. Dying right now ✌️

_

“The hour of the ball has transpired.” a hushed voice came from behind the entrance.

With the help of his usual dynamic tone, Bakugo immediately recognises the familiar voice of his fidus Achates, Kirishima Eijiro. 

“Very well.” he sighs, and Kirishima could almost hear a frown through his raspy voice. 

None of this was going the way Bakugo wanted it to, yet he couldn’t back out anymore; it was simply too late.

“I’ll be taking my leave then, your majesty.” Kirishima reports.

“Please do.”

Bakugo examines his profile in the gilded mirror. He glowers at his own reflection, how outlandish he looked in his formal attire. Even short of the mantle cloak he was supposed to wear tonight, everything about what he’s dressed himself was far too extravagant for his liking.

He poses again with several new angles as if his judgements will change in one swift movement, but of course, it still feels improper.

He drops his eyes in defeat, succumbing to the unadorned fact that he was going to have to get used to the policies of being king.

He has no idea why everyone worshipped the throne. All he ever wanted was to live a secluded life with his family and friends. 

In actuality, that was what he had before the Mediterranean War a year prior to the present, wiping out the entirety of his family, ergo his newfound entitlement: the king. Kirishima was the only part of his childhood that remained, the only part of his childhood he still had physical contact with. It wasn’t surprising to say that he was very attached to the man, granting him the chancellor’s position. 

Which is why with Kirishima and his family’s former support, it was impossible for him to deny the tradition of the annual ball no matter how much he opposes it. He hates the notion of prattling aristocrats shattering his peace and quietness. Even more so of his invitation to you, the Princess of Agathinos, under the monarchy’s recommendation. This would be the first time a guest with royal blood would visit the palace ever since his family’s death. 

As always, Bakugo initially wanted to decline, but Kirishima advised him that he should accept it since it was ‘time’ for him to start courting. He thought Kirishima was being a nuisance, then again he also didn’t want to be looked down on by the aristocrats. He already knows there are rumours of him, calling him all sorts of names like ‘boorish to women’ or ‘ a  critter of another nation’. 

Bakugo was a smart man, so it didn’t take him much to realise that if he really terminated these accustomed traditions, the public would cause unnecessary commotions. Therefore, for the sake of his future peace and his reputation, the ball is set to commence tonight.

Bakugo snaps out of his sombre daze as he reaches the doors to his chamberlains. He fixes himself, coughs a little, before the doors open and he’s now striding out into the hallway. 

Two handmaids are waiting outside his chambers on cue, guiding him to the ballroom. Bakugo glances around the normally dimmed hall, spotting the marshals line-up in armour and the walls decorated with large candles and Renaissance artifacts. He could hear the distant melodies of the orchestra, currently playing some melodramatic composition. Amidst the lively energy of the hall, Bakugo thought that these attributes only made the area more inhumane.

Bakugo soon enters the top of the stairway, where he adjusts himself as he sits on his throne. He doesn’t even get a few seconds to himself and the guests are already flooding into the ballroom, producing a discord between the music and the chatters. 

“Just great.” he grumbles to himself, resting his chin atop a fisted hand.

_

“For the stead of my parents and the kingdom.” you remind yourself.

You too were sitting in front of your vanity mirror, questioning yourself of your affairs. 

You stare into the mirror long and hard. The dress you were currently wearing is the embodiment of an icy blue oasis. The crystal embroidery embellished on the outermost tulle of the skirt was your definition of a wintery wonderland. The rest of your body was touched up with matching accessories too: diamond earrings, silk gloves and silver hair ornaments. Everything about your outfit shone under the moonlight, but you didn’t, you merely blended in with the dark. Especially with the expression you were holding, no one was going to see you as a ‘princess’.

The reason for your morose mien was your parents, who weren’t attending the ball alongside you as they were busied with engagements arranged overseas.

The only thing they left behind for you was the invitation card, and a letter explicitly telling you to the murder the king. 

At the time you read the letter, you were shocked at how your parents could possibly craft up an assassination plot with such detail. You weren’t oblivious to your parents being megalomaniacs; it was why they were away most of the time, focus directed towards any other royalty overseas rather than their own daughter back at home. 

Another reason why they never really bothered with you was because you were a daughter. Although you were an only child, you understood that society’s misogynistic ways definitely influenced their lack of attention towards you.

It's not like you and your family had a bad relationship but you weren’t exactly close either, therefore you didn’t have enough memories to form any opinions on them. Well that is up until now, when the confidential letter telling you the kill the king ceaselessly echoes through your mind. 

Brazen of you, but you wanted to get some of your family’s attention for once. In a sense, you inherited their selfishness. 

You temporarily shake off your thoughts, and with the minimal amount of dignity left in you, tread along to where your chauffeur was, waiting to escort you to the plaza - the location of the castle. 

Inside the privacy of your cart, the thoughts of how the assassination will go runs through your mind as you fiddle nervously on the holster underneath your dress.

You just hope you’ll manage to come out in one piece.

_

The moment you make your ‘grand’ entrance at the ball, strangers are already gushing at you as a peculiar redhead announces your status. 

You realise that this was probably your first official appearance in public as your parents never let you out, contradicting their own actions. 

You waste no time to ask around for the location of the lavatories. Luckily, the same redhead fills you in on the information you need, and you manage to make a quick escape to the toilets. 

You shut the doors behind you, puffing in pure relief. You were never good with crowds since you haven’t even been outside after all, so the comfort of this cloistered space warms you a little. 

Anyway, you’re here to collect yourself before you even dare to think about killing anyone.  

It takes you a while to calm your breathing as the plan continues to play through your mind for what feels like an eternity. Killing really is all that disturbing.

When you finally muster up enough courage, you step out of the lavatory with undeveloped confidence. Flushing, you look down at your feet as you attempt to make your way back into the ballroom, not even noticing the man standing straight ahead. You stumble into him ungraciously, earning you a merited knock on the head.

“Ouch.” you wince in pain. 

Your eyes drift up to meet with a prepossessing blonde who gazes down at you with an amused guise. He was dressed in haute couture, a form-fitting navy suit pinned with the golden emblem of the Bakugo’s: a griffin.

Without a second glance, you instantly note that he’s the king. 

“Careful, Princess of Agathinos.” he alerts, his voice suiting as the most soothing cord of notes you’ve heard pour out of a mouth in a while.  

How did he recognise you?

“You dropped something, princess.” Stupefied, you watch in awe as he bends down to pick up your possession. 

Moments later, you finally knock yourself out to check what’s fallen off your outfit. In vain, you find all your accessories precisely in their designated locations.

Wait.

“A dagger?” he taunts, raising a brow in your way, “Mind explaining why you need this in a clearly guarded place?”

“My King, I-”

“Don’t have anything to defend yourself with?” Your eyes widen at his accurate observation.

Unnerved, you flee from his light grasp and begin pacing in the opposite direction witlessly.

“Running away from me in my premises. How fatuous.” he chuckles to himself, inspecting the dagger that played in his hands.

_

You dash tirelessly past the postern and into what appears to be a garden. You don’t give a second thought as you bolt through a vineyard, the chiffon fabric tufting together under the remiss handling of your silk gloves. 

Reaching the mouth of an inviting forest, you feel a pair of arms repelling you from going any further. Your eyes widen once more, not being able to tell if you were gratified or terrified, or a genuine mixture of both. 

“I wouldn’t go there if I were you.” the flattery music blows into your ear.

Absent from warnings, two strong arms spin your waist around to engage you with a  handsome physique under the moonlight. You shudder at the enchanting sight of the king. 

If he’s run all the way here for you unaccompanied, it is only alright for you to assume that he doesn’t care about the incident back there.

He seems to be more interested in you, like you are with him.

“Please don’t run, princess. I’m not the beast that everyone deems me to be.”

You show no apparent reaction to his comment, still fazed.

“Don’t be afraid.” he adds, sounding ever so sincere. 

“Oh, I won’t.” you promise. It was the only thing you could say after being completely infatuated by him.

“If you’re saying that on account of me releasing you, then you’re wrong, princess.”

“I mean it, your majesty.” you clarify challengingly.

He hums, palpably entertained, “Will you allow me to try something?”

Was the king seriously asking you for permission even after he knew you were a threat?

Oh lord.

“S-sure.” you stutter, making a downright fool out of yourself.

“Well then, forgive me for my bold deed.”

Before you could even say anything, you feel the sensation of his soft lips pressing against yours, juxtaposing to his unyielding image beneath the moonlight. It sent butterflies fluttering down your back impetuously.

Slowly pulling away for air, a silence hovers above the both of you, utterly enraptured by each other.

“Bewitching.” he comments as he leans in for another kiss. This time you lid your eyes, prepared to devote yourself to your king, Bakugo Katsuki.

[cherienymphe]

The Concubine (Stucky x Reader)

warnings: Royalty!AU (bring on the misogyny), eventual DUB-CON, eventual NON-CON

PLEASE DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

summary: Where there’s a king, there’s a harem, and you are the king’s favorite concubine. No other man is allowed to touch you. That is, until this monarchy becomes a diarchy and you find yourself at the mercy of two men unwilling to share.

This isn’t your typical royal setting btw. If any of you have played the interactive game, The Arcana, just imagine the setting some place like Vesuvia.

~

Your hip lowered in time with the final beat of the drum, and the hall erupted into claps and cheers. A slow smile spread over your lips as you looked up, eyes connecting with familiar blue ones. The king didn’t outwardly join in the praise, but by the way he leaned his arm on the chair of his throne, eyes twinkling and lips quirking up ever so slightly, you knew that he was pleased.

You curtsied, lowering your head just as he rose. You looked up at him from beneath your lashes as he waved his hand, signaling for everyone to quiet down. You only moved when he instructed you to do so, and you slowly approached him as he descended, gliding down the golden steps with a grace that only a king could possess.

“How joyous it is to have Y/N finally return to us, and with quite the performance,” he said.

There were low murmurs of agreement just as he stopped before you. You didn’t shy away from his stare, and his smirk grew. You could feel so many eyes on you, you always did, but his gaze was the only one that mattered. It was the only one that had any affect on your life.

Were the king’s gaze to stray, were his tastes to change in anyway, your life would irrevocably change. That was what had been ingrained into you since you were a child, and you knew this to be true. You had seen it before with your very own eyes. A man’s mind was as fickle as the sway of his cock. That was what your mother had told you once.

“Let the feast commence.”

His voice carried, and the attendees did not hesitate to obey. The hall erupted into loud chatter and boisterous laughter as everyone dug in. Hardly anyone paid any mind as the king reached up to rest his fingers just under your jaw, tilting your head to get a better look at you. His thumbs brushed over your skin, and you smiled.

“I’m glad you are well. I have missed you,” he murmured just low enough for you to hear.

“I’m relieved to hear that, my king. I feared that my absence wouldn’t affect you in the slightest,” you confessed.

“How silly of you. Come and fellowship beside me, tonight. You are the guest of honor, after all.”

Your fingers pressed into his skin as you wrapped your hand around his waiting arm. He led you up the steps and lowered himself onto his throne. You sat on the arm, a familiar seat to you, and ran your eyes over the men whose bellies were slowly filling with rum as giggling women tarried around them.

You smiled at the women you’d grown to love over the years, sisters of sorts. Other concubines of the king. Although, they were a bit different from you. They had the freedom to take pleasure from other high-ranking men as well. They were showered in affection, and sometimes gifts, from dozens of men in the palace. They gossiped about the men they were currently sleeping with, some of their lovers overlapping, and they’d giggle about “that thing General Anthony likes to do in bed” or “the way Lord Samuel could pleasure a woman with his tongue for what seemed like hours”.

You’d listen and ooh and aah, but you could only ever imagine the stories they shared. You had been bred purely for this life, forced to go to courses for as long as you could remember. You knew of 30 different ways to finish a man by the time you were nineteen, 3 of which without ever having to touch him, but had never put any of that instruction to use until a year later when Lord Samuel came to your door.

By the smile on your mother’s face, you had known that it was her doing. That she’d finally gotten an audience with someone close to the king, someone who could get you into the palace. She had often talked of how she’d been a mistress to the king’s father in his day before the aging man allowed her to marry a low ranking official in his army. You were destined to follow in her footsteps. You’d always known it and had long accepted it. You were never bothered by it for your mother taught you that it was nothing to be ashamed of.

The king was entranced from the very first night, and you remembered the awe in his eyes as you had lifted your head from his lap, lips stained with the evidence of his climax. His bare chest had been heaving, glistening with sweat. You’d lost count of how many times you had forced him to the edge without ever actually pushing him over. You were taught that reactions varied, some men not liking that, at all, but it seemed that the king was not one of those men.

He was almost ravenous as he gripped you, pulling you into a heated kiss before covering your frame with his own. He had taken your virginity that night, spending hours taking pleasure from your body, curious to see just what you could do. It didn’t matter that he had four other concubines already, you swiftly grew to be in his favor.

You were pulled from your reverie by the feel of his fingers drawing circles into the back of your neck. You looked at him, unsurprised to find his blue eyes already on you, a crooked smile on his lips. You returned it. His eyes were always on you, every hour of every day, it seemed. Sometimes you wondered if he even visited any of the other girls anymore. He glanced away, and your smile fell.

You thought of your sisters and the stories they told well into the night. You thought of how there were some nights when they were simply left alone, using the free time to bask in their other hobbies or each other’s company. You could no longer remember a time where you didn’t feel the constant touch of Steve’s hands on your skin.

 ~

A low sigh escaped his lips as you pressed your fingers into his shoulder, kneading the naked skin. He tilted his head back, groaning as the tension eased.

“I’ve missed these hands,” he breathed. “How heavenly they feel…”

You softly chuckled.

“You mean to tell me that your shoulders haven’t been touched in weeks? I don’t believe that… I know for a fact that Anastasia’s hands are quite gifted as well,” you murmured into the quiet room.

“Not like yours,” Steve didn’t hesitate to reply.

You chuckled again.

“You flatter me, my king.”

“What use would it do to flatter you? You’ll be spending your first night back in my bed either way. I’ve no need to lie to you…”

You hummed in agreement, a small smile on your lips. You paused in your ministrations when he reached up to rest his hand over one of your own. You looked at him curiously, but he was facing away from you, and he did not turn as he began to speak.

“I indeed have missed you, Y/N. Your touch is the only one that truly satisfies me,” he said.

You blinked, a bit taken aback by the conviction in his voice.

“It is simply my duty, one that I enjoy.”

It wasn’t far off from the truth. Despite how weary you had grown of Steve’s appetite, you did enjoy pleasing him. You were exceptionally good at what you did. You had been bred for this life, after all.

“I feared that you wouldn’t recover from the bout of sickness that had befallen you. I feared that I would have to bury you…”

Your eyes widened just a tad at that.

“Earlier tonight, you said that you feared your absence wouldn’t affect me, and I told you what a silly thought that was. I did not lie. Your presence was very much missed.”

Over the years, you’d hardly seen the king show any thing even resembling affection. Sure, he could be sweet in the privacy of his chambers, soft spoken declarations whispered into your ear while he had his way with you, but that was different. Those were just words uttered during the throes of passion.

You looked down as you continued your movements, remembering that you’d also had similar thoughts. The fever that had struck you weeks ago had come out of nowhere, like a sudden storm in the night. You had hardly been able to move, and the king had not been allowed to see you lest he get sick as well. For a moment there, you too had feared that you would die. However, as quickly as the illness came, it was gone.

You’d been holed up for weeks, seeing no one but the physician and the occasional friend or two as they brought you gifts to lift your spirits. And lift them they did. A week ago, you’d woken up bright eyed and bushytailed, but the physician wanted to monitor your condition for a few more days just to be sure.

Your hands suddenly fell as Steve rose, turning to face you. Your brief confusion bled to understanding as his eyes darkened, feeling no need to hide his desire in this private setting. His chest brushed against yours as he stepped towards you, and you held his gaze when he reached up to loosen the clasps at your shoulders. The fabric of your top brushed along your skin as it fell to the floor.

One of his hands clasped your neck, tilting your head back as he pressed his lips to your skin while the other worked to rid you of your skirt. The sound of the gold detailing clattering to the floor was deafening as you stood bare before him. The familiar feel of his hands on your skin confused you.

The king’s touch was all you had ever known. It was familiar and comforting in a way you didn’t think anyone else would understand. It soothed a part of you that you often wanted to ignore as of late. On the other hand, his touch exhausted you. The weeks you’d spent in isolation were hardly a reprieve seeing as you spent the majority of it drenched in sweat, confined to your bed. Outside of that, you couldn’t remember a single night that wasn’t spent beneath him.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he groaned before pressing his lips against yours.

You moaned into his mouth, almost tripping over your own feet as he began to walk forward, forcing you back. He only stopped when the back of your thighs brushed the edge of his lavish bed, and he turned you both. You were breathless as he sat down, eyes running over your form as he smoothed his hands over you. When they traveled upwards, approaching your shoulders, you knew what he wanted.

You licked your lips as you fell to your knees, glancing at him from beneath your lashes as you worked to release him from the confines of his pants. The sound that left his lips when you wrapped your hand around him was indescribable. A cross somewhere between a moan and a growl, and he bucked his hips. You lowered your head, only breaking the hold of his gaze when you took him into your mouth.

You heard him lean back, a choked moan escaping as you began to work your mouth over him. His fingers gripped your hair, tightly, and you found yourself wincing. You flattened your tongue anyway, gliding over him, keeping your lips sealed tight around him. You brought your hands up to wrap around him as well to reach what your mouth couldn’t, and he hummed.

You copied him, humming around his cock, and it pleased you to hear how much he enjoyed it. This was something you didn’t think you’d ever grow tired of. Sometimes your mouth grew dry, and sometimes your jaw ached, but the way you were able to reduce the king to such a begging mess sometimes made it worth it. You loved this sense of control and power it gave you.

It was never your intention but pleasuring the king with your mouth often got you many gifts. You had your own room, an abundance of jewels that you only ever wore for him, and a private bath that was probably your favorite gift of all. Sometimes Steve joined you, but more often than not, your baths were spent in solitude, a small moment to yourself with just you and your thoughts.

He came quickly, and you knew then that his body missed you most of all. You swallowed with ease, no longer minding the taste of him, and he gripped you, pulling you up into a kiss before you could get your bearings. He kissed you like he was trying to retrieve your soul, fingers pressing so hard into your skin you were sure they’d leave marks.

“Steve…”

You gasped when you found yourself on your back, and your trembling hands assisted him in undressing. His eyes were hungry, hands searching as he grabbed your legs, pulling you against him. The way his lips attacked you reminded you of that very first night, the night he’d ripped your virginity from you in a dizzying haze of pleasure.

He was hardly gentle as he slid inside of you, and you pressed your nails into his arm. His hold was tight as he began to thrust into you, as if he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips never left you, and sometimes you’d feel his tongue dart out, tasting you, committing the flavor of you to memory. Your toes curled as his skin slapped against yours, thighs shaking from the force behind his movements.

One of your hands fell to the bed, gripping the silken sheets in between your fingers as you fought to make sense of the pleasure coursing through you. Weeks you had gone without the touch of a man, without his touch, and you felt like you were being thrown back into the feeling head first. One of his hands gripped your face, pulling you into another kiss.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” he whispered. “…nearly drove myself mad…”

You moaned into his mouth, and his grip tightened. You squeezed your eyes shut as your hip began to burn from where he held you.

“Did you miss me?” he demanded.

“Y-yes,” you forced out, dragging your nails down his arm.

He groaned at that, twisting one hand into your hair as he jerked your head back. He bit into your neck, hips unrelenting as he did what he wanted with your body. The king got like this sometimes, especially when he was stressed and bothered. Although you knew that your illness and absence had weighed on him heavily, something in you knew that other matters were bothering him. The way he touched you and held you and kissed you told you so.

His touch grew less harsh as the night wore on, his frustrations and fears finally waning. His blond hair was in disarray as he slowly moved his hips against yours, and you fell asleep to the feel of him kissing every spot that he’d held too tight.

 ~

You approached the familiar group of brightly dressed women as they stood behind a pillar, peering around it as their hushed murmurs filled the air. You frowned in confusion, nearing them as you struggled to see what they were looking at.

“What’s going on?”

They all turned in surprise, and they all collectively sighed in relief when they came face to face with you. A few of them even perked up, and Tatia reached out to you with a grin on her red lips, gripping your hand as she pulled you closer.

“Thank the heavens you’re here, Y/N. The king adores you! Perhaps you can find out what’s truly going on,” she said, both curiosity and fear coating her words.

“What do you mean? What’s going on?”

A few of the women chuckled, knowingly eyeing you as Anastasia spoke.

“You had quite the late start this morning, so we don’t blame you for how behind you are on the news. After all, we all know how the king can be…especially when it comes to you,” she giggled, bumping your shoulder.

Tatia hit her arm, but even she was fighting a smile.

“There’s talk…of another king…,” she finally said.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the dark-haired girl, confusion growing.

“Another king? Here?”

Was that allowed? They all nodded.

“The neighboring king if I’m not mistaken. Amara heard talk of merging armies and resources and the like. We’re still unsure as to why, but surely it must benefit us, otherwise the king would never agree to such a thing,” she replied.

You pursed your lips, stepping around them to finally look at what they were seeing. Your shoulders sagged just as you caught the backs of Steve and a strange man as they walked away. They were the same height, but the stranger’s hair was dark and luscious as it brushed his shoulders. He was darkly dressed, and the outline of his garb was gold.

You felt someone’s hand on your shoulder, and soon Anastasia’s voice filled your ear.

“So…? Will you speak with him? Find out what’s truly going to happen?”

You turned to her with a small smile.

“I’ll do my best.”

The rest of them grinned, clasping their hands together as they thanked you. You turned back around with a slight frown. You didn’t have the heart to tell them that if Steve really did agree to such a thing, you all clearly needed something this other king had.

You were only proven right hours later when you finally got him alone.

“The other girls saw you today…with a stranger…”

Steve’s eyes met yours as you lathered soap into his chest. The two of you were in his bath, preparing for the night after a long day. Steam filled the large room, and the water sloshed as he readjusted himself, sitting up as he eyed you, waiting for you to continue.

“They speak of another king,” you murmured, gauging his reaction.

He didn’t respond right away, and you paused. Your eyes searched his, and you began to frown.

“My king…? Is it true?”

He hummed.

“…It is.”

You looked away, lowering the soap into the water as you stared at the wall.

“I see…”

“You sound bothered by this news,” he noted.

“It is not my place to concern myself with such matters. I’m a mere concubine,” was your response.

He laughed as he rose from the bath, water droplets flying as he stepped out. You ran your eyes over him, taking him in in all of his naked glory.

“Truly, Y/N. Tell me your thoughts on the matter. I’m genuinely curious to hear them…”

You pursed your lips.

“Do I have your permission to speak freely?”

His eyes narrowed, but he agreed anyway.

“You do.”

You licked your lips, glancing down before meeting his gaze again.

“What is it that he has that we need?”

His jaw clenched as he eyed you, lips thinning into a straight line.

“You have always been clever,” he said, chuckling without humor. “That, however, is a matter that doesn’t concern you.”

You looked away.

“You’re right. It doesn’t concern me, and I don’t know what it is, but surely this arrangement will cause more problems than it can solve,” you stated.

You’d heard the phrase ‘two heads are better than one’ often growing up, but your mother also had another one she too often used. Something about too many cooks in the kitchen. You hesitantly met his eyes again, finding him staring at you as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Pray tell…”

“What if there are more arguments between you two than there are agreements? What if you’re constantly having to change and revise things purely for the sake of compromise? You could spend more time adjusting ideas than actually executing them. This man is a stranger. We know-.”

“He is not a stranger to me. In fact, I’ve fellowshipped with him many times. We’ve grown up hunting together and preparing to take after our fathers,” he interrupted.

“I’m sorry-.”

“Do you not trust my judgement?”

“I do-.”

“Then act like it. You are doing an awful lot of questioning for someone who claims to trust me.”

His tone was harsh and clipped, and you knew that you had overstepped.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “I was out of line, and for that I apologize. I simply worry…”

He sighed and approached you, reaching to help you out of the bath. He brushed his hand over your cheek, wetting the skin as he ran his eyes over you.

“You want to protect your home, your livelihood, and me… I admire that, but I am king. You are not. You were right. Worry yourself with matters that concern you,” he stated.

You nodded.

“Yes, my king.”

“Good. Now, prepare our bed, I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. I need to be well rested,” he ordered.

You nodded, taking a step away from him before pausing. You blinked, a sudden thought crossing your mind as you turned to look at him.

“Will we have to answer to him as we do you?”

Again, he didn’t respond right away, and after a while, you accepted that he simply wouldn’t. With a soft apology, you exited the bath. A tall figure with shoulder length dark hair weighed heavily on your mind.

 ~

The next morning found you in the garden, hidden between some tall bushes as you swayed your hips. You hummed the familiar tune as you practiced, determined to make up for the weeks you’d lost to the sudden bout of sickness. The gold bracelets on your arms clanked together on beat, and you lowered your hip in time with the final beat, a line of sweat kissing your hairline.

You were startled by a slow clap sounding from behind you, and you turned with wide eyes, the fabric of your dress curling around your legs. Your eyes met blue ones that were almost familiar to you, but not quite. His dark hair kissed his shoulders, face lightly decorated with facial hair. He was as tall as your king, and you immediately knew that this was the man from yesterday. The neighboring king. Although, you supposed he wouldn’t be just a neighbor anymore.

“That was very good.”

His voice was deep, smooth and rich in a way that was different to you. You curtsied ever so slightly, lowering your head just a bit before thanking him. He tilted his head at you.

“…and what might they call you?”

You eyed him, unsure of what to make of him just yet.

“Y/N,” you answered.

You were unsure if you liked the way his eyebrows rose, eyes lighting up as he seemed to take you in in a whole new light. He ran his eyes over you, and you found yourself taking a step back.

“Y/N…”

You nodded in confirmation, and a crooked smile fell over his lips.

“I have heard of you. Steve’s most favored concubine…”

You didn’t respond but didn’t feel a need to. This man didn’t seem to need a confirmation for that.

“I heard in the wind that no other man is allowed to touch you,” he hummed.

Again, you didn’t feel the need to confirm that for he had clearly confirmed it already. He approached you, and you studied him. He smelled of spice and the trees all rolled into one.

“I’d heard that you had fallen ill not too long ago. I am glad to see that you’ve recovered. What a pity it would have been to not have been able to meet you,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” you quietly replied.

You jerked, eyes widening when he gently gripped your chin, tilting your head up.

“I am James. I missed your performance the other night it seems, but I will be sure to see them all from here on out…”

He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, and you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest. He drank you in, blue eyes so similar yet so different from Steve’s. He ran his eyes over you, committing you to memory.

“I look forward to…many of your future performances.”

He stepped away and turned around, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the lingering touch of a man who was not Steve.

~

tags:  @sherrybaby14​ @xoxabs88xox​ @darkficreposter​ @mcudarklibrary​ @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ @kellyn1604​ @sebabestianstan101​ @villanellevi​ @readermia​ @jtargaryen18​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @nickyl316h​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @arseofrivia​ @ariesmadness97​ @kaithezaftig​ @fafulous​ @tessa-bl​

[shhhlikeme]

THE SEXY

HALL🎃WEEN COSTUME 🎃👻💀🍬 YOU WEAR THAT MAKES YOUR VOLLEYBALL PLAYER GO: 🥵🥺 part 2

Haikyuu!!

Ft. Tendou, Kenma, Daishou, & Aran

Part 1 | Part 2 🩸 Part 3 🩸 Part 4 🩸 Part 5 🩸

Ojiro Aran -

A Pretty AF Princess👑👸

this hubby-material, absolutely perfect creation of a man has a royal kink. It’s not up for debate! 

argue with your mother if you disagree

Not in some crazy cocky sense where he thinks he’s royalty or something...

It’s moreso that he literally sees you as his princess already..... and treats you like it—even though you two have only been on a handful of dates!!! 

Where you wore cute and casual outfits only. 

Sooooo when you’re dressed as how this boy actually sees you....mannnnnnnnn

Aran Ojiro is all: 😦😦‘s and 🥺🥺🥺🥺’s

and a whole lotta 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩’s

Be prepared for him to shower you with compliments and attention, god damn 

At the Olympic Team’s sober bar hop yall go to, Aran’s telling you how beautiful you look and how much a crown on your head suits you every half an hour 

It puts butterflies in your stomach every time.

He’s dressed as a Prince to match you (which you had to beg him to wear because he doesn’t like the attention) and the entire night your new boo thing was treating you so sweetly 

Kissing your hand, holding you bridal style through door frames, bowing to you 🥺🥺🥺🥺 the whole nine yards

The twins, Bokuto, and even Sakusa kept making fun of him for being so simpy

But the man didn’t care lmao! he kept speaking over the boys when they chirped him, yelling at them that they are FORBIDDEN TO SPEAK TO YOUR MAJESTY WITHOUT ROYAL PERMISSION 💀

You couldn’t stop blushing, even though you were shy... you secretly felt like you were on cloud nine by the way he was being with you, honestly 

You thought the dates couldn’t get better but here we are.

“Ojiro..........” You blushed as you watch the guy you’re seeing and falling in love with Oop— press his plump and soft lips to you hand again.

“Hm?” He asks, opening them and looking up at you through his long lashes. He never removed your hand from his lips. You swooned even harder as your heart pounded, looking away. You tried again. 

“Umm.... you’re just being so kind treating me like this all night even though your friends are making fun of you, and you say it’s because I am your Princess but.... you do know that YOU’RE the one that gives off a Royal vibes, right?! Your entire aura and the way you carry yourself—even when I first met you—screams King. Plus everyone says it. That’s why people keep saying how much your costume fits you. You’re Like........” You gave yourself a beat to think. “—-you’re like the kind and gentle Prince who takes over his father’s throne and changes all the mean laws that were there.... then takes the peasant girl for his wife because he only cares about true love. That would totally be you. You’re like, amazing, Ojiro.” 

You were still looking away from your crush when you finished, immediately wanting to sink in a hole caused by utter embarrassment. 

What am I, a damn Disney narrator?🙄, you thought pathetically. 

Aran studied your features when you said all of this, his eyes softening. As soon as you were done speaking, he romantically pressed his lips against your hand again and then brought your hand down between you two, holding it. 

Next, he gently turned your chin with his free hand so that you were facing him, and so that you could see the sincerity in his eyes. 

You whimpered from the intensity you saw there. 

“Y/N,” Ojiro began in his gentle-king voice. 

“I could really go on with a monologue right now about how you carry yourself the same way you just described for me—like a Princess who overtakes her father’s throne and denounces any preexisting closed minded laws, then decides to give the humble baker—that’s me, a shot at a life of euphoria with you...... but I’ll save that for another time....” he paused, and you swore that you would never forgive yourself if the tears you were feeling decided to fall and ruin this moment. 

“No! It’s you, Ojiro. I’m not even close. You’re so perfect and—“ A handsome smirk graced Aran’s handsome face, making your butterflies explode. Somehow looking at that smirk you just knew that he could tell you were holding back tears with everything in you, so, being the modern Prince he is, Aran came to your tear-saving rescue. He lightened the voice, effectively lightening the mood; but his eyes remained just as intense. He chuckled cutely before explaining the reason behind the intensity. 

“Okay well uhh, hey, if you insist on calling me a Prince.... Then... as my first order of duty 👑, I’d like to ask you, my fair maiden, if would consider being so kind as to call this Prince: your new boyfriend? I mean—damn—sorry, did they even use that term back then?!” 

Your heart bursted, practically springing out of your chest:

Not Prince Eric, not Prince Charming and not even Flynn fucking Rider had anything on how amazing this Prince was! 

Your emotions bubbled over, letting out giggles that sounded just like a real Disney Princess’. 

“Yes, Aran!” You exclaimed, lunging forward to hug him. Aran laughed brilliantly, thanking you. 

You just basked yourself in this ending: Not knowing that your “yes” was the beginning..... of your fairytale. 

A/N: shoutout to my upcoming King Aran AU omg I am smitten 🥺🥺🥺

———————————

Kenma Kozume -

Gamer Girl 🕹🔌

When it comes to Halloween costumes.......

You and your boyfriend Kenma are both lazy. 

So when Kuroo called and screamed at both of you because you promised to go to his work’s party tonight, (especially Kenma who would look really good to his superiors) you both reluctantly agreed .... again😑😑😑

While Kenma simply showered, dried his hair and put on your cat ear head band and called it a day, 

You realized that you had to scramble for a presentable costume. Shit. 

You scoured Kenma’s condo since you have been staying here and won’t have time to go home. 

Freaking out because you found shit all, your bf told you that you really don’t have to wear a stupid costume because this party is stupid and Kuroo himself is stupid. 

Speaking of the devil: kenmas phone starting ringing with the Kuroo ringtone, meaning he was calling. 

Kenma tried to ignore it, so you went into his game room to retrieve his phone for him. 

While you looked for his phone near his gaming set up, your eyes fell on your boyfriend’s Professional Gamer headphones. 

You placed his headphones on, fixed your glasses and decided you’d go as a cute gamer girl! 

Kozume followed you in after a while when he didn’t hear you on the phone, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw you. 

“Th-those are my headphones.” Your youtuber says flatly, trying not think about how mind blowingly attractive you look with them on. 🤯🤯🤯

You just pointed at his costume.

“And that’s my kitty headband. What’s your point?” You retorted, winking at him behind your glasses. “I have a costume now: I’m a gamer girl. Do you like it?” 

Cat boy could only nod, his eyes growing dark. He pictured you gaming and it made him suuuuuper turned on. 

You noticed and like the little shit you are, you closed the distance between the two of you and wrapped your arms around his neck. You puckered your lips asking for a kiss. 

Kenma’s cheeks flared up, unable to stop himself from looking down your tight black & white tank top at your boobs. 

In true Kenma style, he ignored your ask for a kiss. 

“Kuroo is probably ou-out-outside, Y-Y/N. We should go.” Obviously flustered, your boyfriend quickly collected his phone from his desk and made a beeline out of his game room. 

You laughed, calling out to him from your place in the room. “I saw your boner, Kenma!”

“Shut up.” You heard your monotone boyfriend call back. You could picture his blush.

You smiled. 

———————————

Daishō Suguru -

Poison Ivy 🧑‍🦰🌿🥀

Your boyfriend is a self proclaimed snake . 🐍 he even recently got one tatted on one side of his chest and it looks AH-MA-ZING

But anyways... like I said: 

Your boyfriend is a self proclaimed snake . 

.....And Snakes like leaves 🍃

Therefore, you dressed as a leaf.

LMAOOOOOOOOOO

After you got all ready, 

You Facetime’d him because he was away at a tournament and you wanted to show him your costume 

When Daishō answered while grocery shopping, he was not prepared. He dropped his phone, picked it up, stared at you in awe, then he quickly hung up on you. 

He didn’t want to sport a boner in the fucking meat aisle so he practically raced to the cash and called you back when he got in his car. Lol

no but fr Daishou went gaga when he saw you dressed as the sexy Poison Ivy

Not only is he a DC > Marvel Enthusiast, but Daishō loooved Poison Ivy because he and the super hero/villain had similar personalities 

Poison Ivy approached DC Universe situations the same way Daishō approached rival volleyball games: with a manipulative sense, a temptress grin, and ultimately being someone no one you can tell whether they are a hero or a villain. 

With all of that to consider, your man wasn’t even thinking about that because he was too busy thinking you look like sex-on-legs 

He stared at your body madddd hard

“Fuck me. I wish I was Clark Kent right now so I had x-ray vision.” He groaned as he covered his free hand over his face, opening his fingers to peek at you. “What are you wearing under those leaves? Anything?!” Your snake-like boyfriend tried to sound stern, but you knew better. 

“Nothing.”

Licking your red lips, you lean toward your laptop so that your boyfriend could see a close up of those red lips.

You saw him instinctively lean closer to the camera and take a deep breath.

“Your Best Friends/Name isn’t picking me up for another hour, Dai. But you and I both know that really means two hours. Anyway, I’ll slip on underwear when she gets here but I was....... sort of hoping you could show Poison Ivy that snake of yours......before then. She hasn’t met him yet🥺.”

In his rush to get back to his hotel for some hot ass web cam sex, Sugaru forgot the groceries in the car.  Oh well ;) 

the extra grocery trip he’d have to take later that night was well worth it. 

———————————

Tendō Satori -

Skeleton Chick w Dope Clown Makeup

“Y/N CHAAAAAAAANNNNN!” 

you cringed and put your hands out in front of you to protect yourself, just in time before your boyfriend Tendou tackled you on the bed you two share 

You expected this, and that’s why you had strategically placed yourself in front of the bed when you finally told your boyfriend you were done your makeup 

3 hours ago, you had a long talk with your red head as he sat down with his legs folded like a kindergarten student: 

“Ten. I love you, but you are NOT ALLOWED back in the room until I’m done my makeup. You’re too loud, and you’re making me shake. I need precision. I promise I’ll call you in when I’m done and have my costume on.” 

Just like a kindergartener student, your boyfriend gave you puppy dog eyes. 

“BUT—“ 

“Ztttt! No buts!” You shut your eyes so that you weren’t looking at his puppy dog eyes that get you every time. “Ten, you can come in as soon as it’s done.” 

You heard him sigh, so you sealed the deal.

“Don’t forget that You’ll be the first to see it, my special boy.” 

“Alright!!!!” Tendou jumped up.

“Please, bring me to the room and shut the door behind you.” Since your eyes were still closed, your boyfriend hummed and linked his arm through yours, doing exactly as you asked. He lead you to your vanity and helped you sit down. 

“I’ll be waiting! Cant wait to see it! I’m going to bake a Halloween cake to waste time!” 

You felt a familiar kiss to the top of your head, then you heard your bedroom door shut. 

God you loved that Chocolatier. 

***

3 hours later, you were questioning why you loved that Chocolatier🙄, because he was crushing you under his weight after tackling you

Your boyfriend quickly rolled off of you and began his chatter. 

This was both of your favourite holidays so Satori has been gushing the entire week 

“OHO, you look awesome, Y/N-chan! When I was young, no one would take Halloween as seriously as I did so they’d say hurtful things behind my back and it made me very sad.....!!! Last year Ushi actually dressed up as the peanut butter to my jelly which was cool, but he didn’t know the words to the song for Karaoke......” His eyes lit up. “But now I have YOU! Someone who loves October 31st as much if not more than me! Oh, and you look beautiful AND scary! How did you do that??? Can you do my makeup like that, my love?! I want to match you! I also want to make love to you..... and—“

You reached over and covered Tendou’s mouth with your index finger. 

This cutie shushed himself, making himself cross eyed because he was now looking down at your finger on his own lips

You laughed. There is so much you could respond to, but thinking about a baby Ten being all excited for Halloween and his stupid bullies making him feel like shit for it tug at your heart strings, disallowing you to say anything else to your brilliant Chocolatier:

“Ten...........I love you. Happy Halloween.” 😌

This time, you hadn’t had enough time to put your arms out before you were tackled by an enamoured Tendou Satori again. 

Who do you want to see react to your Sexy Hall🎃ween Costume next?

Part 3: 4/4 requested - closed 🚫

Part 4: 4/4 requested - closed 🚫

Part 5: (final part): 4/4 - closed 🚫

first come first serve - send me an ask!

Characters that are currently in queue: Iwa, Ukai, Daichi, Oikawa, Mattsun, Kuroo, Kyoutani, Akaashi, Tsukki & Noya.

[no-gorms]

Speaking of “tropes you have written for other fandoms but not Marvel (yet??)”, how would you populate a Royalty/medieval Stony AU? Cuz I love past fics of yours in those settings, and like both of the guys have Knight motifs to varying degrees, leadership vs ruling, etc etc. All good things for castle time. You got the King Arthur sleeping thing with Steve, you have expectations from birth with Tony, tis a rich well, so either one could be royalty (class issues keeping them apart?!?) or they both are (oh no arranged marriage! 😏)

Or like the route of neither of them are Royality at first. Steve is a captain of the guard and not nobility by birth so he can’t be a knight until he marries Tony, Tony is a knight and a part of the nobility with an indirect line to the throne (like a duke or earl or something) but he oops becomes King or near it? Or Thor can be king they serve or the ruler of an allied kingdom. anyway!

ALL THE MEDIEVAL AU TROPES! I love them all, and yes very true that both of them have kingship and knighthood elements in them, making all sorts of dynamics wonderful fun to read and explore. (Arranged marriage??? yesssss 😱)

OKAY since it’s brainstorming time, let’s go with someone who’s NOT them being at the top of food chain. How about putting Nick Fury and Maria Hill up there as the apex of the royal house, though whether their marriage is built on love or respect or shared purpose, it’s hard to tell, since they keep it so close to their chests. 

Steve is a knight, but he got there the hard way through joining campaigns from when he was far too young, and rose through the ranks until he got the attention of more and more important people until it reached the king and he earns a title. He’s new nobility, automatically looked down on by the old families, and disliked for his supposedly upstart airs. Worse yet, the common people like him, and he has a tight band of knights around him that are loyal to him (and not necessarily to the crown). You can’t trust the intentions someone like that! Not that Steve cares about what people think of him, but to do his job in serving his prince and the people, he needs to learn politicking and being a good landowner, and he’s perhaps less good at the former than at the latter.

Tony, on the other hand, is old nobility. He was the heir set to inherit everything, but was too smart for his own good and craved knowledge beyond what was expected of him. Upon being threatened with disinheritance, he openly rebels and joins the church (access to knowledge + upward mobility that’s mostly independent of his father) and over time becomes a warrior bishop (they weren’t celibate anyway) and chancellor to the king by his own merit. He’s a powerful right hand man, balancing the power struggles of the court via a network of spies and unpredictable forward-thinking. Some people say he’s the real power behind the crown, and though he cannot trust Fury to not one day turn on him, he's determined to do his best with what time he has.

SO! Here’s Steve and Tony, ostensibly serving the same master but very differently, and of course they don’t trust or like each other the moment they’re in proximity. Old nobility grew up knowing each other, but Steve coming from the outside means that Tony doesn’t know him as a person, and Steve being at war for most of his life means that he’s only ever heard tale of Tony through others. Steve and Tony are wary of each other, and that wars with their desire to protect the kingdom and serve their king, who seems to trust the other one with his life, but how can that be true? Surely Fury’s judgment is better than that!

Like, Steve knows their world is a hypocritical one, but Tony is far more hypocritical than most and dangerously devious and clearly underhanded to boot. Meanwhile, Tony has seen too many people use martial power in making moves for the throne, and everyone knows that soldiers without a war to fight only cause trouble wherever they go.

Steve and Tony are on the same side, but not. Their initial politeness gives way to open butting heads once they see right through each other -- Steve is disinterested in playing the game, and Tony doesn’t know how to control Steve in the way most beneficial to him. They disagree on strategy, policy, ceremony, and even the size of meals to be had at court. It becomes sport to see what new antics Fury’s two trusted confidants will be up to any other day.

Then Fury, either on his last tether or curious to see what happens (no one can tell what he’s really thinking), sends Steve and Tony away on a vital embassy to another kingdom. Their job is critical and they know it, they have to rise up and they totally would if only the other person weren’t so goddamned stubborn.

Then, I don’t know, somewhere during the weeks of travel they slowly thaw to each other and in seeing more of each in day-to-day management without the backstabbing atmosphere of court pressing down on them, Steve finally notices Tony’s thoughtfulness towards the people who work him, and Tony notices that Steve is sharp enough to only start fights that can be ended quickly and were never able to be solved by talking anyway. 

Maybe one of them risks their life to save the other, and they’re so shocked about it that honesty spills out (”What do you really think of our king?” “WELL if he was as smart as he’d have us believe he wouldn’t have sent us both away at the same time.” “YES HOW IS THIS IS ANY WAY PROTECTING THE REALM.” “PRECISELY THANK YOU anyway what do you think about this embassy I think it’s bullshit”) and they figure out, rather belatedly, that they’re far powerful when working together, bringing their tremendous sphere of influence into one while letting other people think that they’re still enemies.

Fury figures out they’re having an affair immediately, though.

Also maybe like, against all odds they survive a lifetime of fighting and sell off their lands to retire quietly in some reclusive property at the very edge of the kingdom. Only a handful of people know they’re there and come to them for advice sometimes. It’s peaceful there.

[george-mackay-macfine]

Their Royal Secret

Requested: YES / NO

Synopsis: Elodie’s life was pretty straight forward, go to work, come home from work, spend time with her parents and her Grandmother, until she’s invited to meet Prince Richard of England. 

Word count: 20335

Prologue

“Today marks the twenty-fourth year since the fatal car accident that took the life of Her Royal Highness Princess Eleanore. Her Royal Highness was only thirty years old at the time of her passing, and in wake of the accident she left behind her husband, His Royal Highness Prince Richard, and two young grieving sons, The Princes’ Michael and Alexander, both of whom were small children at the time of the accident.” I looked up from my copy of Catcher in the Rye to see pictures of the British Royal family mourning flash up on the screen, their bodies donned in black tuxedos. “Perishing alongside her mother was the newest member of the Royal family, Princess Rosalie, who was just a year old at the time of her death.” My eyes moved to my mother who was sitting forward, elbows resting on her knees watching the screen intently as my father sat beside her, nose buried in his newspaper. “Since Princess Eleanore’s death, there have been many who have claimed it was not an accident that took the young Princess’ and her daughters’ life.” I rolled my eyes picking my book backup, I’d already heard the conspiracy theories time and time again, and I was in no mood to hear anymore. “The death of the Princess and her daughter to this day still has many of us questioning the circumstances surrounding it, and wondering who would want to bring harm to the young family.”

                                                    Chapter One

“Elodie, you have a letter.” My mother called to me as soon as I walked through the front door of our house, “It’s heavy, and it looks important.” She added on as I closed the door behind me. Putting my handbag on the hallway table I walked through the house, the sounds from the TV leading me towards where my parents sat quietly. My dad, Jonathan Daniels sat in his favourite armchair, a newspaper in his hands.

“How was work? Busy?” He questioned me not looking up from his paper as I pulled off my shoes, dropping them beside the couch.

“Not the worst day I’ve ever had, but it’s never fun serving women who have no concept of manners, or basic politeness.” I flopped onto the lounge across from him, “And of course, they don’t know how to say thank you for the hours you spend helping them find that perfect outfit,” I rolled my eyes, fingertips moving to my temples, rubbing them in a clockwise motion as I remembered my day.

“Maybe this will make your day better,” Claire, my mother smiled at me as she held out a heavy looking letter towards me, “It came by a courier about an hour ago,” She thrust it towards me again, her cheeks pinking in excitement, “Open it,” Her eyes widened as I grabbed ahold of the envelope. I flipped it over to see my name written delicately on the front in gold script.

“Ms Elodie Daniels,” I muttered, thumb running over the deep burgundy wax seal. “Who sends letters with wax seals these days?” I laughed as I ripped the paper of the envelope open.

“Read it aloud!” Mum pleaded from her seat, her feet tapping in excitement.

“His Royal Highness, The Prince of Cornwall requests the company of Ms Elodie Daniels, and guest at the celebration of the Commonwealth at Government House on Saturday the twelfth of March twenty-twenty,” I paused, my hands and the lap falling into my lap. “Why are they inviting me?”

“Inviting the citizens to mingle with Royalty, how diplomatic.” Dad replied, his face still covered by the paper. “I’ve heard it’s something they do every now and then. It gives them good press.” The way he spoke, I knew my father was fighting with his anger. He was never fond of the Royal family.

“They’re allowing me to take a guest,” I handed the envelope to my mum. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Perhaps you should ask your Grandmother, I’m sure she would appreciate it.” She stood up from the couch, holding the envelope in her hands. “It’ll be good for her, to get out of the house, and hear about home. She hasn’t been back in twenty years,”

My Grandmother, Elizabeth, was born in Scotland, and moved to London with my Grandfather Francis right after they were married. Whilst living in London she worked for the palace for a while before immigrating to Australia, and that’s where my family has been ever since.

“But what will you two do?”

“Your father and I will come to Sydney with you two, and we will come home together.”

“If you’re sure,” I knew the affectionate my mother held for the Royal family and how she’d always wanted to meet them all one day. So to me she seemed like the obvious choice to come with me to meet them. “I know how much you look up to them,”

“I’m sure,” She held my hand. “My daughter, meeting the next King of England,” She placed a hand lovinging on my cheek. “We’ll need to find you something appropriate to wear.” She looked over me. “Something to make you look even more beautiful than you already are,” She walked towards the kitchen counter. “I’ll call your Grandmother,” She took the phone from the cradle. Her hands hitting the buttons. “We have so much to do, and only one week to do it in.”

“Well,” My father lowered his newspaper. “What do you have to say about all this,” For as long as I can remember my father had a very strong opinion about the Royal family, and I already knew he didn’t want me too meet them. He’d always told me if I were to meet any of them, by any sort of luck, or misfortune I’d be better pretending I didn’t speak English than bow down and kiss their feet.

“You know what I think,” He smirked. “I think that they’re all a bunch of pompous lunatics who put themselves on a throne and expect us to kiss their feet.” He raised an eyebrow. “The last true Royal died with Princess Eleanore, and ever since then there has been nothing but bad press and negativity surrounding those people,” He spat. “And you promise me you won’t bow down to this Prince when you meet him.”

“I think they’ll behead me if I don’t.”

“Don’t be silly, they abolished beheading in the seventeen hundreds.” He chuckled. “I’m serious El, be careful around them, it’s easy to get sucked in to the glitz and the glamour of it all.” It was obvious from the worry in his voice, and the look on his face my father was serious, something he rarely was.

“I promise, besides I doubt I’ll meet them. I’ll probably just be standing in a room with a hundred other people as he stands on a stage and waves at us.” I rambled, picturing it already hand going up in the air as I mimicked a wave, “Then some cheesy montage about Australia and Britain will play in the background and people will get teary-eyed about how amazing the Royal family is and then just like that,” I clicked my fingers together. “It’ll be over, and Nan and I will be back in the car with you,”

“That’s my girl,” He winked before pulling his paper up again. “Don’t let them fool you, sweetheart.” I stood from the lounge and went to the kitchen where my mother was animatedly talking to my grandmother. I sat on one of the seats at the kitchen bar and waited for her to finish her conversation.

“Yes, It’s on Friday, so we have under a week mum.” She smiled at me as she spoke. “No, Jonathan and I are going to come down to Sydney with you. We’ll go shopping, or something while you’re at the function.” She paused for a moment. “Yes, mother, we’re going to find her something appropriate to wear.” She laughed. “Okay, I’ll talk to you soon. Love you too,” I watched as my mother hung up the phone placing it back in the cradle. “She can talk a lot.” My mother laughed. “Did you need something sweetie?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to ask if you think I should dye my hair again before Friday.” Since I was old enough my mother and I had been dying my naturally blonde hair a dark brown, but as of late I had been too busy to upkeep it and had let it grow out. My hair was now a shade between brown and blonde. My mother picked up a piece of my hair and twirled it around her finger.

“No, I think we should keep it this colour. It looks lovely.” She smiled, dropping the strand. “We’ve been dying it for so long I’ve forgotten what it looks like.” She ran her hand through my hair, eyes glazing over as she thought about something.

“That was easy, I guess.” I smiled. “What do I need to wear? I assume jeans and a hoodie aren’t exactly Royal protocol?” I chuckled picturing myself meeting the crown Royal Prince in my black jeans and worn out hoodie, and I guess my black converses also wouldn’t cut it.  

“You’ll need a dress.” I found myself holding in a groan. “Something simple, elegant and formal.” She picked up her phone. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow.”

“Alright,” I yawned, stretching my arms above my head. “I’m going to bed.” I yawned again before standing. “Goodnight” I called out to my dad and my mother before walking up to my room feeling the weight of the day hit me. As I changed I thought about the Royal family, Princess Eleanore, and once I laid on my bed with my eyes closed, reality hit me. In under seven days, I would be meeting a future monarch.

__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--

When I was younger my mother used to tell me the sooner I would go to sleep the sooner something would come. Santa Clause, the Easter bunny, and now the same was true for meeting His Royal Highness the Prince of Cornwall. Before I even knew it was happening, I was dressed and walking inside Government House, my Grandmother by my side.

“Are you excited dear?” She smiled, holding onto my arm for support. “Meeting your first Royal,” She smiled fondly. “I remember when I met his majesty the King many years ago I was beside myself.” A true Royalist till the day she dies. “And now it’s your turn.”

“I’m sure I won’t meet him. It’ll probably be him on stage and us in the audience.” We reached the top of the stairs and walked inside.

“Ms Elodie Daniels?” I looked up to see a man no older than thirty walking towards my grandmother and I. He wore a black suit with a white button-up. A spiral cord hung down his neck.

“Yes,” I stood up straighter still holding onto my grandmother’s arm. “I’m she… I mean that’s me,” I cleared my throat.

“This way please, His highness is waiting.” He motioned for us to follow him. My grandmother took the first steps towards him, frail and slower than what I’m sure the man in the suit wanted us to walk. However, it only took us a couple of minutes to reach a conference room. “He’s waiting for you inside.” My Grandmother let go of my arm and walked inside her shoulders held a little higher than usual.  

“Thank you…”

“Collins ma’am,” He stood beside the door, arms crossed over his chest.

“Thank you, Collins.” I stepped inside the room halting when I saw my Grandmother and the man I recognised as Prince Richard embracing.

“It’s so lovely to see you again Elizabeth.” Prince Richard’s voice was smothered in a deep British accent. “How have you been? Keeping well?”

“Of course dear.” My Grandmother tapped his hand. “May I introduce you to someone,” Prince Richard smiled, nodding his head.

“Please.” I heard his voice barely above a whisper, but there was a sigh of relief as he spoke.

“Elodie,” My Grandmother motioned for me to join them. “Come over here and meet Richard.” Mindlessly I walked over to where my Grandmother stood. She held her hand out for me as if the situation was the most normal in the world.

“Your highness,” I curtsied, looking at the ground. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I looked up through my lashes to see tears welling in his eyes.

“You look just like her.” He whispered, his bottom lip trembling. I stood up straight raising my eyebrow. “I’m sorry.” He pulled away from my Grandmother. “Why don’t we all sit and have some tea.” I followed my Grandmother's actions, sitting at the large oak table. “I’m sure you have some questions,” Richard spoke to me.

“A few,” I laughed awkwardly. Richard himself sat across from me, pouring tea for my Grandmother. “Have you two met before?”

“Once or twice,” My Grandmother replied cheekily. “Richard,” She motioned for him to speak.

“Elodie, what I’m going to say to you next will change everything for you,” He began, “And for that I must apologise… I wish it could have happened another way, sooner perhaps, later… at a better time.”

“Sir,” Collins knocked on the door pushing it open. “Jonathan and Claire Daniels are here.” He pushed the door open wider and my parents walked in, thanking Collins as the door shut behind them.

“Thank you for joining us.” Richard stood greeting my mother and father.

“Mum, Dad?”

“Hi, honey,” My mum smiled sadly as she and my father sat on the opposite side of the table. They all looked too comfortable together, this couldn’t have been the first time they’d met.

“You all know each other.”

“As I was saying, I am sorry this is happening this way, I wish it was happening another way.” Richard looked sadly toward my Grandmother.

“What’s happening.” I interrupted the confusion clouding my brain. “How do you know my family?”

“The more important question is how does your family know mine.” He corrected me. “Elodie, Do you know what happened to my first wife and daughter.” I nodded my head.

“They died in a car accident.” My heart began to thump in my ears.

“That’s what the media says.” He scoffed. “But my wife was murdered,” He corrected himself. “We’d been receiving threats on her life, and Rosalie’s for months before.” I didn’t understand where he was going with his story, why did he believe I needed to be privy to such secrets. “So after Eleanor’s death we decided as a family it would be best for my daughter to not grow up fighting against the same fate as her mother… As Eleanor did, so we decided to hide her, in the commonwealth.” I nodded my head although I was having trouble following where he was going with his story. “Do you understand?”

“You hid your child so she wouldn’t have to face the same scrutiny that her mother did?”

“Exactly,” Prince Richard smiled. “However, now we, my family and I, believe it’s safe enough now for her to come home.” He shared a look with my father. “Do you understand me?”

“Elodie,” My mothers’ voice tore me away from Prince Richard, her and my father sat together, my father comforting my mother with gentle calming circles on her hand. “Do you understand what he means, sweetheart.”

“Mum?” I whispered a thought of horror hit me.

“Rosalie,” My Grandmother’s voice caught my attention. I turned to her. “Her Royal Highness Princess Rosalie,” I shook my head.

“You can’t be serious...”

“It’s who you are,” My Grandmother smiled.

“No, I’m Elodie, not Rosalie.”  

“But you are,” Prince Richard replied. “My mother is close friends with your Grandmother from when she worked within the palace during the reign of my Grandfather. She knew we could trust her and her family to take care of you until it was time for you to come home to us.”

“Home?” I scoffed. "This is my home, not there,”

“It is your rightful home.” He countered. I stood.

“My home is here with my family.” I looked at my father. “Tell me this is all some sick and twisted prank. Please.” I pleaded feeling hot tears fall from my eyes over my cheeks.

“Honey,” He started. “We did what we needed to do for our Monarchy.” He stood. “For you, To protect you.”

“But you hate the Royal family… Don’t you?” It all hit me like a truck, my father didn’t hate the royal family, he was employed by them. “It was all so I wouldn’t catch on wasn’t it, changing my hair, pretending to hate them.”

“We’re sorry.” My mother wept. “Elodie, … Rosalie,”

“So now you want me? For what some good press.” I shook my head. “You’re all crazy,” I called before storming out of the room. I passed Collins ignoring his pleas for me to stop as I retraced my steps trying to remember the way Collins had led my Grandmother and me only minutes before.

When I’d managed to make my way outside I stopped taking in the crowd of people and photographers who had started to gather the news of a Royal being inside had spread, and now there were even more police holding them back. I rushed around the side and out to the back where I found a giant garden. Walking towards a small fountain I sat on the edge trying to console myself.

“Your Highness,” I heard a new voice call from behind me. I wiped away a tear that was under my eye and turned around intent on telling the stranger not to call me that. “Princess Rosalie,” I turned.

“Please don’t call me that,” I spoke as I turned to take him in for the first time. He is tall, he’d tower over me if I stood beside him. He, like Collin’s, was dressed in a black suit with a white button-down. A skinny black tie around his neck. His hair was a mop of neat brown curls on his head, pushed back of his forehead. He wouldn’t have been older than twenty-eight.

“What should I call you then?” I met his eyes, dark green. I wanted nothing more than to fall into them. I was captivated. “Your highness,” He held out his hand. “Your father is waiting for you.”

“Which one,” I muttered standing on my own.

“I have the Princess. We’re coming back inside.” He spoke into a microphone that was attached to the collar of his white shirt.

“So you work for them?” I stood still as I looked over the man again, trying to find it in myself to not be attracted to him.

“Your highness?”

“The Royal family,” I finalised. “You work for the royal family.”

“Yes, Your highness, I work for your family.” He smiled. “May I speak freely for a moment?” I nodded my head waiting to hear what he couldn’t say normally, “I know I speak for a majority of British citizens when I say we loved your mother, she was our Princess, and when she died, the whole country felt a great deal of sadness. Then hearing we’d lost our youngest princess too, the whole nation was beside themselves.”

“And how will they feel knowing they have been lied to for the past twenty-three years?” The man smiled faded slightly before it grew again.

“They will be happier that their Princess is alive, rather than upset.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure they will understand why the crown hid you eventually.”

“To protect me right.” I scoffed, something I’d found myself doing more times today than I had ever done. “Now they’re throwing me out to the sharks.”

“Your highness, we need to go back inside.” The man motioned for me to lead the way.

“What is your name?” I asked stepping beside him.

“George, ma’am.” He smiled.  

“George.” I nodded my head before walking back up the pebbled footpath towards the house again. As I rounded the front photographers started to take pictures of me, calling out questions of who I was and why I was at Government house.

“Ignore them,” George whispered down to me as he escorted me up the stairs and back inside. “The less you react, the less they’ll follow you and think anything of you being here.” I nodded my head and allowed myself to unwillingly be pulled back into the room where the liars of my life sat.

“Rosalie,” Prince Richard spoke as I sat down at the table, making sure to distance myself from everyone in the room. “I speak for everyone at this table, and in this room when I say we did not mean to hurt you we were trying to do the opposite. We wanted to protect you.” Prince Richard stood up. “I am truly sorry, but we need to move past this.” He walked towards me and sat in the seat beside me. “I want you to come to London, meet your family. Your blood family,” He spared a look at the people I had called my family for over twenty years. “Your country needs you.”

“My country doesn’t even know I exist, How can they need me?”

“Rosalie,” My grandmother stood, walking towards me. She sat in the seat across for Richard. “You are special. You are her daughter.” I knew who she was talking about. “She was a spectacular woman, and England needs someone like her right now.” She held onto my hand. “They need you, Rosalie.” I looked at my parents who nodded their head, each had tear-stained cheeks. “We’ll always be here for you.” She reached up and cupped my cheek. “But right now, you need to do what’s best for your country.”

“What exactly would I need to do,” I asked Richard, not breaking eye contact with my Grandmother.

“Come back, meet the family, learn the protocol of being a royal, and be the princess that the people need.” I turned and looked at him.

“On one condition.” Richard nodded his head. “If I don’t like it, I get to leave. I get to come back home and go back to my normal life.”

“As you wish.”

[gerbiloftriumph]

The Silence Between Snowflakes

(also on ao3)

His name was Gwydion--but that wasn't his name. He lived in Llewdor--but that wasn't his home.

Alexander escapes Manannan's grasp and flees to Daventry, hoping he might find a place that he might call home after years of loss and loneliness. While Daventry embraces him, loves him, shows him all the stories it has within it, the country is also suffering under the worst winter in memory. But it might not just be a hard season: there might be something out there, something chasing the lost prince. Something malevolent, intent on destroying the kingdom snowflake by snowflake, spreading a curse across the lands and infecting its king.

(Or: I don't like how King's Quest 2015's Chapter 4 played out, so I've rewritten the whole thing to fit my headcanons and character desires.)

~*~*~

1/8

(1: Found Family)

~*~*~

Gwendolyn was smiling when she walked into his room, but Graham, after decades of being king, could tell when someone’s expression was false. It wasn’t especially hard in this case. He could see tears glittering in the corners of her eyes. She kept up the brave face right until the point when he spoke his first words to her that day: “Do you want to talk about it?”

She froze, one foot in the air. “Talk about...?” she said, with forced nonchalance.

“Whatever you like. But I think you have something specific on your mind.”

And that was all it took for her carefully drawn face to crumple.

“I just don’t get it. Everything seems to make Gart mad these days,” she said, sinking into the chair by the bed. “I can’t seem to do anything right. He keeps yelling at me.”

“Oh, is that what I heard this morning?” Graham tried to get her to smile with him, but she was looking away, twisting the strings of her hood through her fingers like a little net. “Sweetling, can you tell me what he’s yelling about?”

“I don’t wanna say,” she said, her face buried in her knees now as she drew herself up into a ball on the chair. Her voice was muffled. She looked like she was shrinking into herself, like she didn’t want to take up any space at all, like she wanted to hide. She looked so much like Alexander in that moment that Graham felt his breath catch: he could so easily see his son curled up in a corner of the ice cell, shivering and wanting to disappear, certain that he had led the kingdom to destruction just by existing.

"Here, now. Have I ever told you a story about your father?”

~*~*~*~

It was snowing both outside and inside Daventry castle.

Outside: that was perfectly normal. It was the end of the year, the lazy autumn finally reaching its end and the snows starting to build up. This was the first proper, heavy storm. Flakes pelted the windows, which were shuttered against the cold. Colorful tapestries had been drawn over the frames, darkening the corridors but keeping the place relatively cozy and comfortable despite the bone deep cold ache seeping out of the exterior stone walls. Wind whistled through the high crenellations, furiously whipping the flakes high against the towers before letting them fall gracefully into heaps that the royal guards would have to shovel out of the way later.

Inside: well, after eighteen years, that was kind of normal, too. Paperwork snowed up in its own sorts of drifts, covering the floor and audience chairs in the throne room. Paperwork that Graham had been ignoring.

He’d been doing okay. Eighteen years was a long time. Or, at least, so he told himself. The hole that Manannan had left when he’d ripped Alexander from his cradle eighteen years ago, stolen the prince of Daventry, leaving the taste of a broken lullaby on Graham’s lips—that hole never filled, but sometimes it was easier to ignore. If he didn’t think about it. And Graham had Rosella to take care of, his beautiful clever daughter, and Valanice to take care of him, his wise, confident wife, and he in turn cared for her, and for his country, to help the land and the people on it grow, tending to it just as the farmers tended the fields. Daventry needed him to be strong.

And he was strong. Mostly.

But, at the end of the year, when the seasons ticked over and the date changed with a finality and a clang...it all came rushing back. The sharp loss. The searches. The failures. Again and again, the failures. Eighteen years come and gone and nothing to show for them. The wizard had just vanished from the earth with his captive as far as the royal family could tell.

Somehow, at the end of every year, Graham’s arms felt weak, and his head ached, and his heart hurt. Even though Valanice understood, even though she held him close and they wept together for what they had lost, around them the demands of the kingdom kept endlessly pressing. After eighteen years, they had to finally accept that Alexander would never come home.

Rosella, his dear sweet princess daughter, carried them through the winter seasons. She learned closely from her tutors, always asking why the kingdom was doing something one way and not doing something another way. She had suitors to meet, plans to make. She, more than the council, more than the guards, more than anyone, seemed to keep Daventry on track when the year ended and the next year (the next year of failure) began. When Graham felt at a loss, overwhelmed (how could he lead a country when he couldn’t even protect his family), Rosella picked up some of the loss.

She had started attending council meetings too young. At first, it had been cute, even a little funny, to see her golden hair bobbing at the table. She had carried a stack of heavy addenda books to her chair herself so that she could sit on top of them and stare imperiously over the councilors. Graham hadn’t the heart to tell her to leave, and she made her attendance a habit. She started figuring processes out, and over the years she started to offer tolerable ideas, and then impressive ones. Sitting at council so young, so fanciful and creative, she was able to twist policy with fantasy with abandon. Without the careful thought that adults had to put into every sentence. It gave her wild confidence. Planted ideas in her head that Graham was mildly sure weren’t exactly princess-like.

But after all, the Cracker family was new to royalty. Who was to say what a Cracker Princess should be?

It wasn’t fair, perhaps, like it was taking away part of her childhood. But Rosella was determined to do what she wanted, and what she wanted was to be a part of Daventry in every single way like her father. Ruling and adventuring in almost the same breath. She went to council, and then she went tree climbing. And then she came to council the next day with her arm in a sling after daring to climb too high. Royal Guard Number One despaired, unable to keep her in check.

But this year was different. She would be turning eighteen soon. Eighteen was an important age. Eighteen was the age Graham had joined the royal knighthood of Daventry, found his path, changed his future.

Eighteen.

She was distracted, and understandably. She was going for walks more and more often out in the tangled forest paths. Sometimes the family came with her, especially in the springtime when the new year’s fear wore away and fresh life started poking out from the cold dirt. Although, her birthday (her twin Alexander’s birthday) was in the spring, and that brought its own pain.

She was probably on a walk somewhere now, Graham thought. He wandered through the sheaves of paperwork piled high as his nose in some places, flipping a sheet here, reading one there, sticking another in his cloak pocket for closer examination later. He wished he was with her too, with Valanice at his side, breathing that crisp Daventry winter chill.

He daydreamed about the route. The promise of hot chocolate and snowberry pie from Wente’s bakery, maybe a new order of cozy woolen socks and blankets from Acorn to stave off the chill, with a detour to Amaya’s warm smithy to sit by the forge and talk about the latest order of rust-resistant armor on order for the royal guards. And then, maybe, by himself, a longer turn by the old well, past the plaque commemorating a brave knight lost, listening to the crunch and crackle of snow under his boots. Just because. Just in case someone had returned to the underground caverns. A boy (a man, now) with hair as dark as Graham’s had been at that age.

He chased the thought away, settled down in his throne, skimmed another page without reading it, wondered if he could order another cup of cider or if Valanice would swat him for putting more sweets in his rounding tummy. She was here, too, somewhere in the hills of paperwork. It was Valanice who had insisted that they clear some of the work before the year end, who insisted they couldn’t sink into the usual sorrows. She herself had hauled the papers into the throne room rather than his office so that he couldn’t ignore them. She would give him a solid (albeit playful) smack if she caught him with one of Wente’s oversweetened ciders. Maybe later.

“Dad?”

Rosella was back from her walk. She had dragged in some boy with her, some scruffy teen half covered in frozen mud, with snowflakes melting in his hair. The lad was staring at the throne, at the crown on the pedestal nearby, at the magic mirror (fuzzy and dark these last eighteen years as though cursed, although Graham realized with a sudden start that the colors had returned to it sometime recently when he hadn’t been paying attention). The boy was swaying dizzily. He looked exhausted, poor thing. Graham stood, stuffing the addenda back in his cloak pocket. “Welcome, young man, to Daventry Castle.”

“Dad?” Rosella repeated. Her voice cracked.

Valanice’s head poked up from somewhere in the stacks, like a rabbit in a burrow. “Oh! You look dead on your feet, dear boy. Might we offer you some tea, or maybe even a blanket?” She struggled out of the snowdrifts of paper, dress catching on piles and pulling them after her in little avalanches.

“D-Dad?”

That one...that wasn’t Rosella speaking. That was...the boy. The scruffy filthy lost looking...eighteen-year-old boy...with raven black hair....

The smile froze on Graham’s lips, faded. His heart beat in his ears so hard that it hurt, that he couldn’t hear anything else. Couldn’t hear the paper sliding out of its heaps as he knocked it over in his haste to get by, couldn’t hear his footsteps pounding over the carpet, couldn’t hear the sudden burbling laughter pouring out of his own mouth, couldn’t hear Valanice’s shriek and scramble over the rustling, slippery sheets, couldn’t hear Rosella’s frantic explanation, couldn’t hear Alexander’s voice for the first time in eighteen years.

But he felt the boy in his arms as they went for an embrace. Valanice’s arms wrapped around his own as they gently, so gently, afraid of crushing the boy, afraid of frightening him away like a bird, like a ghost, like a dream, held him together.

Alexander squirmed under their grip after a few seconds, apparently not used to contact no matter how soft, and the family backed away, gave him space, let him breathe, and they all stared at each other, unable to think, unable to talk.

“I think...I’m back,” Alexander said, and then his knees buckled beneath him and he went down in a heap, and the whole family reached out and caught him, and everything was different and everything had changed, but the weather didn’t pay any attention, and the snow fell even harder, swirling into drifts and making the royal guards, as unaware as the weather, sigh and clutch their shovels.

~*~*~*~

Days whirled past relentlessly.

Questions, answers, suspicions. Joy, relief, apprehension, fear. No one knew quite what to do. This was unprecedented.

Graham and Valanice hovered anxiously over the boy as he regained his strength. They were impossible to tear away from his bedside, huddled together while the boy slept, fielding more questions from staff and citizens themselves than the boy himself answered. Valanice even took to strapping her old short sword around her hip as though she would have to take up some defense of him (from Manannan, or goblins in the night, or assassins, who could say?). But the more the color returned to the boy’s sallow cheeks the more he looked like his parents. The nervous whispers in the halls about imposters faded away.

“As though I wouldn’t know myself,” Valanice fretted, twirling the ends of her hair on her fingers. “Completely unfounded rumors.”

“Yes, but they don’t know you as well as I do,” Graham said, and he kissed the tip of her nose.

Once he was deemed well enough to talk, Alexander answered everything posed to him, though often without the detail they sought. He said where he had come from (Llewdor) and how he had gotten to Daventry (hidden amongst the crates and baskets of a pirate ship). He said what he had been made to do (keep house for the wizard), but he wouldn’t explain more, and no one wanted to push him.

Except on one detail, a detail that hovered over their heads like a black cloak. The most important detail.

“Will the wizard be coming back?” Royal Guard Number One pressed. He still remembered the attack, still remembered the violence. The fear of that night, and of all nights after.

“If he does, he’ll have a hard time doing much more than scratching,” the prince replied. And he didn’t (or maybe couldn’t) explain more than that. Not yet. No1 seemed frustrated, but a sharp glance from Graham made him subside, for now.

Alexander—sometimes he responded to his name, more often he didn’t, still used to that Gwydion name Manannan had forced on him—was quiet, and tried to take up as little space as possible. But he seemed to want to be helpful. As soon as he was allowed to leave his sickbed, he started searching for chores. He was often found outside trying to feed the chickens, and the servants had once caught him pawing through the broom closet looking for a bucket and mop.

“You don’t have to earn your place here,” Valanice told him gently. She reached out as though she wanted to sweep his unruly forelock, so like her husband’s bouncy curls, out of his eyes, but she held back when he flinched ever so slightly.

“Of course not, Ma’am—er, Mom. Still, though, do you think they need help sweeping the throne room?”

At his first presentation to the public, hastily gathered together as a means to silence rumors still floating around the kingdom, he stood uncomfortably next to his family, shifting awkwardly and blushing at the attention, candlelight glinting off his wary eyes. He ducked out at the first moment possible. No one saw him again for the rest of the night—he was good at finding little nooks and alcoves and burying himself in them, entirely out of sight.

Rosella, though, was determined. The Feys had brought Alexander hot chocolate during his days spent recovering from that terrible sea voyage, and while Alexander wouldn’t admit it, she could tell that he loved it. One chilly evening not long after the presentation, she invited Wente to the castle kitchens. She helped him mix up a fresh batch, getting melty chocolate chunks everywhere in the process (accompanied by No1’s barely muffled groans of annoyance when he walked past and saw chocolate halfway up the walls). She plonked two steaming mugs on a tray, covered them to keep them hot, and went in search of her brother.

Always searching, even after he’s been found.

As it happened, he was in his room.

It was a lovely room, near hers. It was always meant to be his, but it had sat sad and empty and dusty for eighteen years. They’d swept it, cleaned it, and let him have it as a blank canvas to do as he wished with. Which...he hadn’t done much. Guest rooms were richer with cozy decor than the crown prince’s room.

She knocked gently, pushed open the door, and found her brother kneeling on the floor by the bed, looking at something. He twisted to face her, shoving whatever it was behind him, yanked the bedspread down, smiled unevenly. Fear gleamed in his eyes. She leaned sideways, peering around him. A scarf trailed out from beneath the bed.

“Isn’t that the scarf Acorn made you?” she asked.

“Is what?” Alexander said with false cheerfulness. He kicked out behind him, and the scarf vanished under the bed.

“Are you hiding it? You don’t have to, I’ve seen it, it’s a nice one. He makes tons of them, says it helps him relax. You should wear it, it’ll be warm.” She put the tray on the (bare) desk and knelt beside him. She reached forward under the blanket, not actually bothering to look where she was reaching, and he made no move to stop her.

But instead of the scarf, her fingers felt something hard. A box? She gripped it, tugged it, but it was stuck, so she pulled harder. It popped free and caused an avalanche of clattering, rattling, dinging noises under the bed.

She glanced at Alexander, who now looked hopelessly guilty, and studied the box in her hands. It held a silver inkwell and quill, delicately engraved with looping vines. “Normally, people put these on their desk,” she said.

“Do they? I mean. Of course they do. Because they’re normal people. And I’m a normal person, too.”

Rosella pushed the blanket aside, revealing a veritable treasure trove. Gifts glittered in the candlelight, things the kingdom had cheerfully given to its lost prince. Welcome home cards, and cups, and papers, and embroidered pillows, and small tapestries, and hats and gloves, and a cloak, and an ornate dagger, and pressed flowers from warmer times, and other odds and ends that didn’t seem to have a use except in some esoteric way that only Alexander understood. His crown was under there, too, a slim golden circlet he was supposed to wear during official occasions but could otherwise be ignored. She dropped the blanket, hiding the inventory again.

Alexander was twisting his fingers together. “Please, don’t tell...I...”

Rosella took his hand in hers. It was cold. She pulled him so that he sat on the bed next to her, and then she pressed one of the hot chocolate mugs into his shaking fingers. Then, ever so carefully, she leaned against him. Lightly, so he could shrug away if he didn’t want her to touch him. He tensed, and then, just as carefully, leaned back, so that they propped each other up. The twins sipped their hot chocolate together. The torches in the hall snapped and popped, but otherwise the room was quiet.

Once the mugs were empty, Rosella said, “I can help you decorate, if you like. There’re some nice tapestries under there. It’ll be warmer in here with them up. If you don’t like the designs, I can help you swap them.”

Alexander didn’t say anything. He held his empty cup in both hands, swirling the dregs of chocolate.

She stuck her finger in the bottom of her own mug, dragged it through the remnants, and licked it away. Alexander shyly did the same, and then smiled. The first one she’d seen from him, she was sure. His eyes were still a little uneasy, a little guarded and suspicious, but he nodded. “I would like that. It does get a bit cold up here.”

“I think I saw a blanket from Acorn under there, too,” she said. “Maybe we could get that, if you want. It might be more comfortable in here with it.”

Alexander hesitated, then reached under the bed and pulled out the box with the inkwell in it. “And you can show me where to set this up? Like I’m supposed to, like a normal person.”

“Normal in this castle is relative,” she said, putting her hand on top of the box. “It can go anywhere you like. Which can include your desk.”

He thought about it, and then nodded. “That makes the most sense for it. On the desk. And. And, maybe...we can put out the pillows.” He swallowed and backtracked, glancing at the door as though expecting someone to be watching, judging, ready to take away his few treasures again. “Um. Tomorrow, maybe.”

“I think that would be a nice idea. Are you still okay with putting up tapestries tonight?”

“Um. Could...?” he stopped, looked down.

“Could?” she prompted.

“Could we have another hot chocolate, first, and then...you help me pick out the right ones?”

“Absolutely.”

[snusbandxknifewife]

Photo Fic 2: Electric Boogaloo

Ok so this is the sequel to the first fic I ever posted on this account. (If you wanna read that one first, click on the photo fic tag at the bottom.) I think it’s cute as hell and I’m soft about it so 🥺 Jude and Cardan wanting to take pictures together makes me 🥺🥺🥺

~~~~~~~~~

In the year after Cardan and Jude took their very first photos in a photobooth, photography became a bit of a fascination in Faerie. Jude didn’t intend for it to happen, but what royalty does tends to become the fad in the kingdom.

It started when they’d bought a Polaroid and began to take pictures of one another, eventually amassing so many that they’d dedicated an entire hall to photos of them. It was both of their favorite place in the entire palace, where they both went to see the other smile and drown in happy memories.

Then a servant had left a door open and a visiting dignitary had seen inside. After that, word quickly spread around the kingdom of the King and Queen’s portrait hall: the place where they’d managed to capture pieces of real life. Jude and Cardan had sighed and agreed to throw the doors open, allowing people to tour the wonder.

(Of course they’d continued to take dumb photos and risqué ones too, but they were much better at hiding those. Jude was insistent that only the dramatic or kickass photos get sent to the hall.)

They’d graduated to a better camera and they’d started to send requests for Vivi to print them. As the photos got bigger and more detailed, the people of Elfhame grew more impressed. All over the kingdom, tinkerers and witches and everyone in between began trying to craft devices that would capture photos in ways the mortal devices couldn’t. It had become a fierce competition, one that amused both Jude and Cardan.

Now, on Cardan’s birthday, the entire kingdom was watching with bated breath. The Living Council had announced a competition to find the best camera creation and, in addition to all the gifts people were bringing for the king, the great hall was full of photographs. The king would be choosing the most realistic picture, and he’d also be awarding the most beautiful one.

Jude sat on her throne, her red empire waist dress floating down to her feet and glittering in the light. She’d worn it at Cardan’s insistence; since he’d announced that their subjects would undoubtedly be taking pictures of them and he wanted his wife to shine just as much as her.

Beside her, Cardan smiled and greeted the family of a soldier from the Court of Termites. Bomb took their gift and stacked it on a table to the side of the royal dais. The picture they brought with them is a gorgeous rendering of a hill overlooking a lake at sunset. It appears to be painted, the work of an extremely diligent artist who had undoubtedly spent days getting everything right.

The photos people came with weren’t all actual photographs, most were art pieces, but it made Jude smile. She couldn’t help but feel proud at the fact that she’d inspired her kingdom to try something they’d never really focused on before. At least she knew she wouldn’t have to keep going to the mortal world to get pictures with her husband. She’d be able to stay in Faerie, safe in what she was familiar with, and she’d still be able to capture important moments in her life.

Still, she’d had to go to the mortal world to get the gift she wanted for Cardan. She’d done that a few times in the past year—her husband’s favorite had been the pinup shoot she’d done about five months prior—and he had a habit of rotating the framed pictures of her he kept on his desk.

She knew she’d have to stop eventually, so she took all her chances while she still had them. She was glad that the timing of this one has worked out.

Time passed and she played the dutiful queen and adoring wife, dancing with Cardan and eating to her heart’s content, greeting her subjects and accepting gifts that didn’t come with any strings attached.

Cardan watched her over the top of his chalice, grinning at how effortlessly she swayed across the floor. With her head held high and her shoulders back, she commanded the whole room without a word. His wife was gorgeous, she was his everything.

Eventually their people became antsy, looking around at the pictures hanging all around the hall and wondering who would be announced the winner. Members of the Living Council were interviewing everyone who’d put in an entry to find out how they made their picture as Cardan led Jude to look at each piece. They’d make the decision on the most beautiful picture alone, and they’d take the Living Council’s input on the best camera entry.

Jude’s favorite was definitely the picture someone had turned in of a revel from a few weeks back. It had been outside, everyone barefoot and dancing until the sun had long come up. The picture showed a dance floor lined with faeries in all manner of dress, watching on as she and Cardan danced. Her dress that night had been a spring green piece with a dangerously low back and skirts that danced around her ankles. Her husband, shown smiling as he swung her around, had a ruffled shirt open low on his pale stomach and breeches of forest green.

Cardan’s favorite was a picture put in by a guard, one that showed his wife dressed in fighting gear as she practiced out in the gardens; her hair sticking to her skin and her face fierce as she lunged towards her sparring partner. He always adored little reminders of how deadly his wife was, loved to see glimpses of the creature that he’d managed to tame, the one who’d tamed him in turn.

They retreated to their thrones to deliberate as Cardan opened gifts. The whole hall went silent, watching the king’s reaction to each parcel. While gifts had to be freely given, everyone knew that those who gave the best gifts would be looked upon favorably.

Jude watched the room for threats as her heart began to race. She knew that the last gift Cardan would open would be the one from her. She’d made sure that Bomb arranged everything that way.

She’d worked her ass off to keep her gift a secret from him. Cardan had been a pain in the neck for WEEKS, trying to catch her in a slip up. She had to engineer a diplomatic mission for him to go on just so she could sneak away to the mortal world and she’d threatened a few lives to keep it from him. Thankfully, it would all be over in a few hours.

Cardan opened all manner of magical gifts: cloaks meant to make the wearer invisible, doublets of impenetrable spider silk, jewelry that helped you understand and speak other languages. Everything he was given was gorgeous and unbelievably expensive.

Everything except for one thing.

Cardan was just about to grab the parchment from Randalin that announced the best camera so they could make their announcements when Jude stopped him.

“Cardan, you’ve got one more gift,” she gently announced and his brows furrowed. One, Jude was hardly ever gentle and two, he had opened everything he’d been given.

Bomb walked up and handed Jude a box, one made of lush purple velvet and wrapped up in a bow of the cleanest white satin.

“What on Earth?” Cardan tilted his head to the side as he accepted the gift, his long fingers wrapping all the way around it as he tried to weigh it to guess what was inside.

“Consider it my entry into the photo contest,” she grinned, only confusing him more.

He pulled the bow off and the entire crowd watched closely. Some were intrigued, others were angry—nobody had been told the queen would be submitting a photo—and others were just being quiet to avoid the ire of the royal family.

When Cardan took the top off the box, he found a picture frame upside down and he snorted. It was just like Jude to prolong the drama.

Jude grabbed fistfuls of her fluffy tulle skirt and bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to make it bleed. She knew that she’d have to explain what it was and that was making her nervous enough to shake.

She’d debated for hours if she should give him his birthday gift in private or if she should do it at his party. Eventually, at the insistence of Vivi and Heather, she’d taken the plunge and decided on a public announcement. She knew everyone would find out eventually.

“It’s.....a photo?”

Jude snorted at Cardan’s evident confusion as he looked at the black and white fuzzy picture, no larger than his hand. She’d put it in a pretty white frame, one that she would eventually write a name on.

“You’re right, my love,” she agreed. “It’s a photo from the mortal world. You see, mortals have figured out how to take pictures for medical purposes. They can use special devices to see inside the body.”

He looked to her, delicately clutching the frame in one hand. She fought the urge to laugh at how he still hadn’t put two and two together. Out in the crowd, faeries were tittering amongst themselves, trying to figure out what their queen has given their king.

“Is this a photograph of you?” He turned back to the picture, gripping it in both hands again and turning it like a different angle would make it make more sense.

“Sort of,” she shook her hand in a so-so gesture. “I’d say I’m the background of the photo. You should be focusing here.”

She walked over and pointed, her nail with its unchipped purple paint tapping against the glass over a strangely shaped white blob. Cardan naturally leaned closer to her, as he always did when she got near, one of his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close as he tilted his head and squinted his eyes.

Silence stretched out for a few more seconds before Jude, near giddy with mirth, stepped away from her husband.

“Maybe it’ll help if you know where the photo was taken,” she offers as she grabs the frame from his hands. Cardan, his mind still swimming with possibilities, allowed her.

Then, as his wife turned the photo to face him and drew it back so the frame was flush against her lower abdomen, his jaw dropped.

If she was the background, and the photo was taken inside the body—

“Jude, gods above, how long have you known?” Cardan’s eyes welled up with tears and he fell to his knees, his hands coming up to cup his wife’s hips and his thumbs running over where the frame covered her stomach.

Just that quickly, her throat closed up from emotion and all she could do was nod. Cardan grabbed the frame from her and tucked it against his heart as he pressed his face into her skirts, trying to kiss her stomach and hide his crying all at the same time.

Some faeries had put the clues together and were watching with gaping mouths, unsure of what to do as their king hugged their queen.

Then, Jude pulled Cardan to his feet and she turned to the crowd. “The gift I present to my king and husband is the first photograph of our child, which grows inside me as we speak.”

And, just like that, the entire hall erupted with celebration. Most of their subjects had grown to love their new king and queen and, even if that weren’t the case, a pregnancy was always cause for celebration among the fertility-challenged fae. A royal baby, especially so early on in both the king and queen’s rule and their marriage, was unheard of.

Randalin—who looked a bit annoyed at not being informed of the royal pregnancy before the court was—led the partygoers in a toast, one that Cardan happily joined in. Beside the beaming king, Jude raised her glass of water in solidarity; no wine for her for a few more months.

“How long?” Cardan asked her, near giddy with excitement.

“The doctor said twelve weeks,” she whispered back, wrapping her arm around her husband’s hips as they raised their glasses again. “I’ve suspected for a month or so. I should’ve known sooner, but my first missed period was during that last uprising attempt, so I was a bit distracted.”

Cardan held out the photo and Jude pointed out the body parts that were already forming. When she told him that she’d be going back, that he’d be able to come with her and hear their baby’s heartbeat while it was still inside her, he nearly began to bawl again.

“When do we announce the winners?” Jude asked, thinking back to that gorgeous picture of them dancing.

“I can’t think of anything more beautiful than this.” He held up the photo of their baby and Jude blushed, elbowing his side and telling him to be serious.

Cardan told her that he was being serious and she bit her lip, looking down at the photo she’d already stared at so much.

The party would grow into a week-long celebration of the new heir; a practice run for the celebrations that would rock Elfhame when the child was born. Eventually, both the faeries who made the two pictures Jude and Cardan had enjoyed the most were made aware that their works were hanging in the royal picture hall and another faerie who’d made the best camera was given a job by the Living Council and they became the first official royal photographer.

Elfhame would grow to love photography, all because of a mortal queen who wanted a picture with her husband.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hnnnnng pregnancy announcements are so cute lol

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