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kookiecrumb · 3 years ago

Text

jjk|| Your Head

"tags": @kazthebrekkerofinej

word count: uhhhh

summary: Jungkook is the heir to the throne of your Kingdom! In this tale of duty versus heart, will love prevail victorious?

tags: Royalty!Jungkook x Peasant!Reader, oneshot, smut, fluff, slight angst, some crack, pining, forbidden lovers, Jungkookie has a sweet tooth, strangers to friends to lovers

warnings: explicit language, impact play, birthday sex (technically), fingering, oral (m receiving*), love marking, alcohol consumption, s&m themes, horny grinding, praise kink/body worship

a/n:

hey guys!

Firstly, I want to say how proud I am of myself for growing so much during this fic. I learned a lot about what I'm comfortable with, what I'd like to work on, and where my confidences lie.

I won't lie and say it's been easy, because writing this meant dealing with a lot of my fears? I'm excited for all the works that are to come.

The only thing I can do is be as receptive to growth as possible, so I'm looking forward to learning...

*I actually learned that Vaseline wasn't invented until like the 1870s? The fic is written in the 1810s, so I actually had a choice between having them do it with vegetable oil or spit. Spit won.

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5 years ago

You bend over to pick up an apple that had rolled over under your father's produce cart, praying that it isn't bruised so that you have to pay for it out of your dinner, when a crumpled piece of paper hits you in the ass.

Confused, you crawl out from under the stand and unwrap the paper.

The paper itself is of the finest quality you've ever seen. It's a sturdy cardstock, bleached white with gold etchings on the borders. The print on the top of it reads "His Highness Jeon's Royal Study," and scribbled in some kid's amateur cursive below, "Nice butt."

You directed your gaze upwards, towards the towering castle walls. Sure enough, a boy no older than 15 had his noggin popping out from the top of the rampart, with two wide eyes staring down, curious as to your reaction. This was Prince Jungkook, heir to the throne of your kingdom.

"Shouldn't you be equestrian horse riding or playing polo or something?" You shout. He furrows his eyebrows, apparently offended at your assumption, and then disappears behind the edifice.

Moments later, another paper hits your shoulder as you're practicing your caligraphy behind your cart. It lands between the apples, so you reach your hand over and fish out out.

You glance up at the anticipant, and sure enough he's there with his doe eyes and his coconut head, ogling.

"No, dumbie. That's at MID-day." Well how were YOU supposed to know the royal schedule of the crown prince, it wasn't just common knowlegde you learned from being a humble farmer's daught--

Ah!

"Will you STOP?!" You put your foot down. "Unless you're here to buy my apples, then you're not getting ANY, little Prince." Oh, shit. You gave him ideas. Now it was really over for you.

In less than half an hour, half a company of men arrived at the marketplace, asking about your little old apple stand, and sure enough, Jungkook had bought out the entire cart so that you were forced to help with the transaction.

The young prince had eyes frankly too big for his head, with the most prominent cupid's bow you've ever seen. His nose slightly outgrew his face and his ears were hidden away behind his short, black hair. "Now you can talk to me." He gave you a rose he'd stolen from the royal garden. "I am Jungkook, heir to the throne of--"

"I know who you are." You interrupt him, documenting His Highness' total in your calligraphy book.

With a hand perched on his chest from surprise, he scoffed. "And I happen to think you're really pretty, so I was going to ask you to be my very first consor--"

"You're 15, you have playmates not consorts."

"And how old are you?!" He's had it, raising his voice and taking a bite out of one of your apples with force.

"16, old enough to have suitors." You tease. Jungkook hangs his head a little. He just needed someone to talk to, it would seem. Reluctantly, you scribbled down your address down on a piece of note paper and handed it to him.

"Look, if you buy more of my apples, I'll have an excuse to tell my Dad so I can hang out with you." You spoke in a low voice as to not raise suspicion.

Your dad is standing negotiating with the guards about prices, his usual embarassing haggling gruffly overpowering the guards elegant twiddle-tones.

"Wonderful! See you soon, my sweet!" He resumes his confident demeanor, tucking the paper into his overcoat with a small smile. He salutes you boyishly and marches away with a year's supply of apples.

For the next week, the royal kitchen had baked 3 apple pies, made 5 fruit salads, 4 batches of apple muffins, and threw the rest of them in Sangria; that's the same Sangria as King Jeon finds himself drinking in his wife's drawing room on Sunday.

"Call Chef, fetch him up here." He waves to his assistant, keeping his eyes on the outside. He was deep in thought, his hands stoicly behind his back.

The Kingdom had been prosperous for over many years now, and war had not come close to threatening its borders in a lifetime. Negotiations were always successful, and quality of living was high. The work of a King, in a situation such as this, was to perfect the image of the royal family as strong rulers, and to paint his daughters as desirable to foreign heirs.

"Your Grace," the assistant called his attention, "Head Chef Sung." The dainty man bows and scurries off somewhere else.

Chef Sung is a portly man, who carries himself heaving with every step, his great belly inflating with each hefty inhale. He approaches the King, and kneels down to kiss his hand with his fat lips.

The King recoils in disgust, but quickly collects himself and his words. "Where are these apples from, is it France or Spain?" He demands.

"Neither, Your Highness." Mr.Sung lifts up his eyes. "They are from our Holy Kingdom; by order of Prince Jungkook, an entire cart was purchased of these apples and we have not been able to get rid of them." Tears threatened Chef Sungs eyes at the very mention of the fruit.

'Well, there's one thing the kid's done right.' King Jeon now faces the Chef, setting down his drink on a mahogany table, leaning against it casually. "Well! Good. I'd like to meet the owner of that cart, invite him to my Sunday brunch."

"Oh, yes, of course sir! You'll never see them in our kitchen aga--What?" Chef Sung takes out his handkerchief, waving it around in the air and drying his tears at once. "So you like them! Why...Yes! Yes, of course!"

Your father thought it would be valuable to have you around the kitchen, learning from the skilled men and women employed by the Jeon family. He only visited once a week to drop off fresh produce, (he'd been officially hired to handle restocking of goods) but you, after showing promising signs of being a gifted baker during one of your father's restocks, were granted scholarship by Ms.Kang to be her aid.

You were now, officially, a resident of the Jeon Estate, residing in the servant's quarters, immediately adjacent to the kitchen. This was convenient. It was far too convenient for a certain little Prince to get the idea of wanting a midnight snack and wandering downstairs.

One day, he does just that. He finds his way into the first bedroom to the right of the stairs facing the kitchen, and that happens to be your bedroom.

He pokes you awake. "Ow! Ow, whyyy~" You whine and toss yourself over to the other side of the bed. His irritating poking persists. You grab his fingers and your eyes shatter open.

You sit up, alarmed. "You could have me arrested, what the fuck are you doing?!"

"I wanted a midnight snack! Besides, I wanna talk to you." He pouts, still holding a small teddy companion.

"Fine. I'll bake you ONE sheet of cookies." You slip on your night shoes and shuffle to the kitchen, and Jungkook tags along.

By the time Jungkook's 18th birthday comes around, he's in the kitchen helping you whisk buttercream to top his cake while having a tease at the Austrian Princess' mole.

"You have one right under your lip, look!" You take a little buttercream from the bowl and stain the dark spot with it.

He licks it up and hastens to add, "it needs more sugar, lady!" as he turns to grab a puffy bag of confection sugar.

"You're impossible to please." Snatching the sugar away from him, you smirk. "You can gobble down as many sweets as you want when the ball commences. Remember, this is the year you're supposed to be keeping your eye out for a girl of a good fam--"

"Yada yada, must have hips for childbearing, yada yada yada..." He mocks the speech his mother had told him that morning when he got dressed.

"Exactly." You set your bowl aside to fix Jungkook's tie. "Yes, and that's your duty, as our heir."

You step back and examine Jungkook one more time. He'd grown so tall in the last year, his legs like spider's and he was just beginning to grow into his features. Handsome boy.

You, too, had grown into an elegant young woman. You had a poised complexion, ready-mannered and graceful. Your hands seemed out of place in your otherwise feminine frame, carrying an extra bit of girth from baking. You were 19 years old.

Marriage was becoming an uncomfortably frequent topic during your visits home, as your mother had married young, herself, she expected the same of you.

Truth be told, there were plenty of offers for your hand. You were a skilled and very esteemed individual, who had broken into thr artisinal class. But your father knew better than put a dowry on your happiness. So long as you worked, he saw no reason to marry you off just yet.

"Now, go. Your sisters must be worried sick! Go out there." You shoo him, pushing him out the door of the kitchen despite his flailing arms.

Throughout the party, you'd been carrying a platter of your own baked goods, serving them to the aristocrats attending the Princes' coming-of-age ball. Accents from all over Europe and some from Kingdoms as far East as Cyprus jubilantly engaged in artful conversation which filled the air with good spirits.

Jungkook, himself, was busy being introduced to as many women as possible, a medley of presenting duchesses, ladies, and even Princesses of your Kingdom. They were each more qualified than you'll ever be, ten-fold.

One was a Greek Princess, her hair cascaded in darling curls down her shoulders and her eyes were deep-set, her voice a flirtatious trill.

Another, a Prussian Princess', posture radiated excellency, and whose complexion sparkled like powdered snow. Jungkook greeted her warmly, pleased with her appearance.

Distracted, you tripped up your skirt and dropped the remainder of your pastries. With that, you stepped off to use the restroom.

The sound of Strauss' Rosen aus dem Süden faintly loomed in the air as you wiped tears from your waterline in the mirror. That was just the way it was, wasn't it? Princes come of age, and they find wives who they commit their lives to.

"Married men don't have friends who are girls." You say out loud, just to realize it. Jungkook was now expected to find a mate within the season, and he was, in fact, quite the eligible bachelor.

Little did you know that Jungkook had been keeping an eye out for you throughout the party, not only because you were carrying his favorite Danish pastires, but because he knew your company was his greatest comfort.

He's in the midst of greeting the Duchess of Kent when he excuses himself to go look for you. He finds your mess first, frowning as he realizes something has gone terribly wrong.

He catches you in the hallway, face puffy and shaky. He grabs your wrist to keep you from darting back to the kitchen.

"Please don't do this, it's my birthday, y/n." It's as if an unspoken rule had been broken between you, and he feels it. Something is making you uncomfortable. "Was it the girls? You told me about this, it's my duty to at least greet them and--"

"Yeah, you sure did greet the Prussian woman nicely." You speak through tears. "She's the girl you were born to be with, huh? Your birthright?"Jungkook is silent. "Every girl at that ball wants to be your wife, want to have your children. They haven't known you for a day and yet they're ready to be your bride."

You search Jungkook's eyes for any sign of coherence, hoping that he would defend against you, that he would speak up and tell you otherwise. No such argument comes.

You yank your arm from his grip and march to the kitchen to remake the pastries you spilled.

You had the job of clearing off all the tables upon the departure of the last guests. It is midnight, and the windows of the castle stream moonlight down on the carpet beneath your feet. The glow of candles soothe you as you hum the waltzes which echo in your mind. It's a brilliant evening.

The centerpieces of the tables were gardenias, lush rose-like flowers with yellow pistils.

Summer, 1809

"Jungkook, wait! You're going to make me trip!" You shout from the top of the hill.

"You've gotta come see before the sun sets! It's the only way we'll get there on time, now run!" Jungkook's speeding down the terrain towards the Sycamore tree which grew deep and wide beneath the banks of a great rushing river.

You groan and throw caution to the wind, rolling down the steep mount in your Sunday dress. Jungkook turns to watch you, a grin spreading across his handsome face. "Look at you!"

You land on your feet at the bottom and scurry off to join Jungkook under the grandfather tree, out of breath entirely. "Now, look what you made me do. You're such a boy, you know that?! Making me come out here just to see some bloody--"

Jungkook has plucked a gardenia and placed it behind your ear. "Would you shut up? We got here on time. Behold."

In all its glory, the sun bathes you in its vivacious rays, creating a feeling of heavenly bliss as it dips below the horizon. The sky blushes pink, its clouds mere whisps above you. Wind rustles the leaves of the grand tree, rousing the birds to chirp their afternoon song.

"Mom used to come here all the time with my Dad, because of these." Jungkook clasped the blooming flower in his tender hands.

After a while, he says "the bugs will come out soon, so we ought to go back," as if he's trying not to scare something away. He helps you up, and with one last look across the valley, you walk next to each other back to the East Quarters.

You take all the silverware and plates by the tub to the dish-washing station and toss all of the linen napkins into the washing machine. All you had left was to blow out the lights in leading upstairs.

"Prince! It is very late, and there are no guests left for you to entertain. What troubles you?" Jungkook's sitting on the stairs with his head in his hands, still wearing his best suit.

"I disappointed you, y/n...I didn't like any of them." He admits, lifting his head up to sulk at you. "I should have told you then, but I didn't want to make you upset!"

Did Jungkook mistake your jealousy for disappointment?

"I'm not upset because you didn't hit it off with the girls..." You sigh. A confession is due, and he's ready to hear the truth from you about how you feel about him.

"Well, the truth is, I didn't like any of the girls because I like you, y/n. But you know that, don't you?" You pause, asking him to elaborate.

"Remember when I bought all the apples because I wanted to be with you? Like...I told you that you were my consort and I kind of meant it?" He felt pathetic now, realizing that you weren't just ignoring his advances. "So you didn't friendzone me for 2 years, you actually didn't know that I liked you."

It was almost laughable, a situation you would read in one of your illegal novels which you kept tucked away in your pillow at night. "No, Kookie, I didn't." You admit to your insolence.

You can't bear to lead him on any longer. You needed to put duty over your own self interest for the sake of the kingdom, even if it shattered his hope. It was better this way.

"But, you do know that we can't ever be a thing, right? It's just silly." Your heart tightens with the words which fall out of your mouth. "It is. Nevermind what your parents would think, what would it do for your image? You're on the world's stage, Jungkook, and you're a selfish person if you think you can just throw all of your duties away to date a scum of the Earth like-- like me!" With your heart in your throat, dry your eyes with your sleeve. "And...I want to, I really really want to, more than anything else to love you, Jungkook. I love you! I...can't." Through the blur of your tears, the shapeless blob that Jungkook has become stands up.

Taking his thumb and swiping it under your eyes, he sighs. Words escaping him, he takes your trembling body against his chest and nestles his head in the crook of your neck. Your cold hands travel underneath his overcoat to hold his waist. The Princes' lips plant a gentle kiss on your neck, chaste yet deep and satisfying.

"I will not accept any bride if not you, my love." He draws back, meeting your fervid gaze. "To the world, I remain a bachelor for a few years."

"And after those years, Jungkook?" You ride your hands up to caress the man's jaw. "You will still love me after those years, and then what?"

"I don't know," he says, voice as soft as powder. "I don't know many things, y/n, that's why I need you to teach me." His palms are rubbing at your waist, beckoning you closer.

His breath quickening as you lean your body against his hold, and you figure it must be the wine he drank to calm his nerves. That was it, wasn't it? He was drunk.

"You're not drunk, are you?" Your face sours, really hoping it's not the case as you feel your body temperature rise.

"Y/N, I've only had a glass. You saw I was a wreck back there." His lips kept chasing yours in a dance you can't quite describe. "I have wanted to hold you like this since I saw you selling apples on the street. Give me the honor..." His forehead against yours and his strong hands supporting your back, he's already fucking you with his eyes.

"The pleasure of being your lover." He squeezes your waist tight with his forearms, planting brisk kisses behind your ear and breathing in your scent. He smiles against you. Your skin pebbles at his affectionate touch, purring softly as your eyes roll back in delight.

"Kookie..." You breathe, leaning on his broad chest. "Kook, the maids are wondering where I am, I have to go..." You slur, tugging at his collar.

He grunts in protest, taking your ear between his teeth and nibbling it.

"If you let me go, I'll steal some cake for you tomorrow at breakfast." If there's anything Jungkook likes more than Cream Ice, it was cake. He unravels you from his arms and nods, his eyes softening.

"Request my service tomorrow, from Ms.Kang. She's been sweet on me lately." You peck his cheek before stepping back. Your rouge has embarrassingly stained His Grace's cheek.

Jungkook bows and presses a kiss on your hand, eyes rising to meet yours. "Til' morrow, babe."

Jiyoo shakes you awake the next morning, handing you a cake and a note that reads: "Prince Jungkook has a commission he must discuss with you. Meet him at his chamber immediately."

Lacing on a simple corset over your nightgown, you try not to look too red in the face as you climb up the stairs to His Majesty's room. You'd be up there alone, as requested. The girls would absolutely start rumors based on that alone-- rumors which you realize are probably totally true. This was stuff of scandal, after all...

'There shouldn't be anything scandalous about love.' You decide as you rap on His Highness' door.

"Please enter...but only if you have my cake!" Jungkook says in his morning voice. He's so cute.

The simplicity of Jungkook's abode takes you by surprise. His bedroom is very well lit, a capital display of the flowered valley through his bay windows washed the room in gold, painting his porcelain white carpets and his cotton sheets a warm creme color. His drawers and vanity were etched in gold, with breathtaking detailing.

The Monarch himself was splayed across the bed, laying on his side casually. He held a glass in his hand, holding a white wine. He puts down his glass and sits up as your presence.

"We both know that you didn't come here as my servant." You lock the door behind you. "And I have no such commission to give you, darling." The innocence which undertones his usual speech is missing as he coaxes you towards him.

"This much I know, Your Majesty," You say, taking a bit of frosting on your index finger and smudging it on the Princes lips. His black eyes, as cunning as a viper, watch you dangerously as you push two fingers past his plush lips. He wraps his hands around your wrist and draws your hand away, his gaze fixating on you.

"Set the cake down." At his command, you carefully place the confection down on a nearby chest, feeling Jungkook's eyes on you, drawing you back towards his grip.

"Let me pull your laces apart," with your waist held by his Herculean hand, he hums "and then let me pull you apart. I want to memorize your pleasures and gratify your desires, I need it, y/n..." Your back flush against his chest and your thighs split, his hands knead into you as he litters your collar with his mark.

You gasp softly against the crook of his neck, giving into his hold of you. His hot tongue spreads under your jaw, closing into a hard kiss as his hands travel back up to undo your corset and free your tits.

One by one, his fingers pop open the buttons left on your gown until the collar hangs off-shoulder to expose your collarbone. At the sight of new skin, Jungkook's tongue darts to stain it.

His hands stagger above your breasts. "Is it okay if I touch you here?"

"Oh, Kookie, touch me everywhere~" Your hands form fists around Jungkook's shirt, beckoning him impossibly closer.

Grasping one ever so carefully, his thumb grazes your bud as he playfully bites under your ear. "ah-- ahh,"

Jungkook groans in response, he can't believe how cute you sound. Curious, he wants to hear more, so he traces your thighs and experimentally pushes up the outside your cunt.

You squirm, tensing up immediately in response. You bring your hands down to find the latch on his trousers and dip your hands below to rub him through his undergarments. He heatedly bucks up to meet your touch, a panting mess.

You face him now as he watches you ride his fingers while you grip his girth through his clothes. He takes you by the ass and places you on his prominent bulge, hips rolling into you as he hungrily kisses you, his firm hands grinding your core on his cock.

His face is a sinful red, panting under you desperately.

"I've been wanting to do this," His voice warbles through your touch, running your thumb along his underside. It's his turn to gasp. He sits up and collapses his lips into yours, softer than rose petals and his taste faintly like wine.

You place your hand on his chest, and his heart is pounding, a thin layer of sweat already forming on his honeylike complexion.

Hastily, you pull your dress over your head and lean back to allow him to familiarize himself with your stark form, a dainty chain hanging between your bosom. Jungkook bites his lips as he wriggles out of his clothing, desposing of it beside the bed.

He's giddy behind those sultry eyes, you know him well enough that he's overexcited to get inside of you. It goes straight to his cock, your playfulness as you feel up his bare shoulders and discover his abdominals, your fingers tracing his ridges with a sense of innocent wonder.

He takes your hands and looks at you in this way-- Butterflies fill your stomach instantly. Jungkook's thumbing at your pout with his intrepid fingers.

His eyes flutter when grip his base and submerge your upper body below his hips. You lick a long, thick stripe up his underside, causing his breath to hitch and his head to fall back on to the bed.

Those goddamn cupid's bow lips of his would whisper the dirtiest things under his breath, lewd thoughts that sounded completely alien coming from His Majesty's mouth, he said for you.

"Oh, such a pretty mouth~ It's so good, y/n, you swallow me so good--" he moaned like a mantra, trying to keep his hips from snapping up into you. Your hot, wet tongue wrapped around his throbbing cock was only a fantasy to him for years.

He fills your throat with his girth, his taste tantalizingly smooth. It leaves your mouth with a 'pop.' You struggle to keep your legs apart as you crawl up to kiss him.

He takes those fingers of his and slides his index and middle into you and languidly thrusts them, smirking against your lips. "Shit, you liked that, hmm..."

"Kookie...please," you whine as he squeezes your ass hard before smacking it. You yelp, the sting of his fingers radiating from your skin.

"I like it when you beg, y/n, it's so cute..." He pulls your ass up to his thighs. He's flush hard against your abdomen, already sticky with his precum and your spit. You marvel at the self control he has.

You don't finish your thought before he has his head inside of you, impaling you on his cock and stretching your entrance, hissing at how incredible it felt to have you around him.

His shaft reached pleasure points within you had yet to discover. You clench, feeling his tip brush against your cervix. "Wh... hngh," he groans, "how did you do that, do it again--" You wrap your legs around his thighs and clench around him, biting your lip. You watch as he shivers from pleasure, feeling his skin horripilate under your touch.

His thumb is softly circling above your clit as he pulls out of you carefully. He swirls back in, nestling himself inside your heat, hissing. "Ahh~ Jungkook~!" At the sound of his first name moaned out of your mouth, he groans and rolls his hips up to create messy friction. That familiar knot in your stomach tingles as he plays with the bundle of nerves buried within you.

He glances up at your ruined lips, clashing with them again as he lifts your knees up with his hands and thrusts nice and rough, making you yell with every jolt of his cock. The smell and sound of sex fills the room as he experiments with positions, laying you on all fours.

"Get your ass up for me." You obey, ever servile. You're reminded-- you're his servant. He owns your work, he owns your services, and now he wants you in the most lucrative way, he wants your soaked cunt around his imperial cock. He gets what he wants.

Jungkook's palms smack against your ass one more time, just to watch the way it jiggles for him. He smirks a little before he shoves himself into your pretty little cunt. You bury your face into the pillows in pelasure as he chases your orgasm with vigor, fingering your clitoris while you move your hips back to meet his hard thrusts.

You whine like a harlot, his cock allowing you every satisfaction as he works a head-spinning orgasm out of that cunt. "I'm gonna cum, Kookie~!" you warn as you spasm against his length, moans ripping from your throat as you coat him with your thick juices.

His hips stutter up and he just barely pulls himself completely from you as he paints your back white, a guttural groan escaping his mouth.

After a while of loud panting and scattered giggling, Jungkook reaches over for a wet cloth and cleans the both of you gingerly. You trail your hands up to caress his jaw and kiss his lips softly.

"You need to tell everyone that I had a long and extensive request for the Harvest party, that I wanted a lot of fall fruits and vegetables featured in the baked goods, make it as specific as possible and make sure that you mention that I want to meet with you again, over dinner." His labored breathing punctuate his words, as youd kisses consume him. "And..."

"And?" You cock an eyebrow, simpering.

"Doyouthinkmaybeyoucouldbringmesomemilktogowithmycake?" He mumbles, eyes glued on the bed.

"What?" (If you give a Kookie a Cookie...)

Disgruntled, he sighs and repeats: "Milk! Milk for my cake. I know it's moist cause you made it but I'm really thirsty, especially after..." His cheeks flush a cute pink. You wait for him to continue just to fluster him a little more. "Y/N, just please!" You can't ever refuse his pouty face.

Next week, Jungkook's got you pinned against the hallway wall, making out with you hungrily as his hands ride up your dress. Just across the hall, his Dad is negotiating war with Portugal over land in the West.

The next month, you have his cock buried in your throat underneath the table at an important conference about how to create jobs.

All this while the pressure for Jungkook to find a bride continues to rise as he reaches seniority, and as his father's grey hairs pronounce themselves.

Warm touches are always hidden away to the public eye, but often shared between two kindred spirits underneath the man in the moon's watchful eye. Jungkook, as he reaches his maturity, grows strong. His jaw sharpens, and his eyes darken. His hair grows long, and he gains weight. Now at the proud age of 20, Jungkook had become a man before everyone's eyes, including the eyes of foreign monarchs and their eligible bachelorettes.

One day, you're serving the Royal family at a private dinner, when the topic of marriage comes up for the first time since his birthday.

"Your mother has made friends with the mother of the Austrian Princess, and she's invited you to the cordial ball to introduce yourself to the Princess. An allyship with Austria would prove advantageous for our relations with France, so you are to make your best impression." The King wipes his mouth. Setting his fork down, he continues: "It is in the family's best interest for you to marry her, if the French Princess, Anastasie, does not present this season or the next." The Queen holds the King's hand firmly, reassuring him from his shoulder. She wears a slight frown on her face, her eyes worrisome, somber. The King hides his anxiety, as he's been accustomed to from decades of responsibility. Would this be the face of Jungkook soon?

For now, Jungkook's face is scrunching at the thought of marrying Anastasie. She's not the most delightful young woman, her imprudence ruined her enjoyment of any event. She couldn't keep an intuitive conversation about regional politics and domestic policy for the life of her. Her people were on the brink of overthrowing the aristocracy, he was sure of it.

"Yes, father," is what you hear from him before you disappear down the stairs to fetch desserts.

Jiyoo interrupts your quest for sweets with a letter, signed by His Grace. She has a naturally innocent demeanor, her cheeks rosy and her frame as delicate as a feather. "Y/N, you have another special request from His Majesty...can I ask you why you get so many of these?" She looks genuinely curious, not a single menacing thought behind those eyes.

"It's because the Prince really really loves his cake." I mean, technically it was true. Jungkook never passed up an opportunity to squeeze, smack, or dig his fingernails into your ass during your sessions.

"Oh." Jiyoo pouts. "So it's not because you're like, in love or anything?" Her eyes are glued to the floor. You were expecting this question eventually, as the other girls in the kitchen were already suspecting it. It was only a matter of time before word slipped into the girl's ears.

"As much as I enjoy the Prince's interest in my baking, it isn't my place to confess any sort of feeling for him." Your answer is straightforward enough, so Jiyoo nods and hands you the letter. Another request.

Outside the Palace, Winter came like the wind. Lakes froze over, and couples tied up their skates and danced on the ice. The trees were bare and brown, not a single leaf persisting through the chilling breath of Jack Frost.

Jungkook had left for the Winter Palace, to volunteer and raise spirits up in the North. As heir to the throne, he was to be Commander in Chief of the Royal Armed Forces, and therefore needed to undergo intensive training in order to boost morale.

You're back home, and in your wake is your father, who has now grown tangibly tired. He's been on a strict diet of warm vegetable soup for about three months, now. His eyes are sunken, but he still wears a subtle smile even during his most trying days.

Match girls make their rounds at night, you watch as the lamplighters illuminate the streets with their tall ladders and their taller peacoats. Shop windows glow warm shades of yellow and creme; inscriptions on the glass create shadows on the white snow.

"Wow. It's almost as cold as the King's heart out here." You step outside one day with a cup of tea, sneaking in a cheeky smirk. Yeah, good one.

"I heard that!" You turn towards the little voice. A child, maybe about 9 or 10 years old is pointing at you. You squint at it.

"Well, it's true..." You mumble. You have a bit of change in your pocket, so you walk towards a stand to buy a hot bun and a paper.

"Chilly today, hon...Best you take this on the house." The tenant hands you a steaming cake wrapped in a simple cloth and your paper. You stick the paper in your dress pocket and take back your change. You nod a 'thank you.'

You spill the contents of your pockets on the dining table and snatch the paper, snapping it open. Your eyes eagerly skim the headline: "Prince Jungkook Fires Up Royal Army." Below is an article detailing the happenings of His Majesty. All of it sounded very intense, the running, strategizing, first aid training...Was there anything Prince Jeon couldn't nail on the first try?

You set the paper down and pick up your now lukewarm tea. In the back of your mind you're coping with the fact that the Spring Solstice is next week, and that marks the beginning of Jungkook's last season as a Prince.

The King is ill with tuberculosis, and recovery is unlikely. If Jungkook is to marry, it is next season and that was final.

Sitting at the window of his Winter Castle study, Jungkook plays with a ring nestled between his fingers. He looks out onto the lake, as if he's trying to reach you with his gaze. His heart is tight knowing that it would be the season he chooses his bride. Actually, he'd already made up his mind long ago. If his duty was to marry, there was no way to evade such a responsibility. He had to fulfill it, despite his anxieties.

He straightens up and walks out of the hollow room with a firm step.

You awaken with the sound of horse's hooves thudding against the Earth. It is yet to be dawn, and in the distance, thunder roars mightily.

A figure wearing a long, black hood hoists itself off of the animal, tying it to a nearby post. It walks towards an obscure entrance, unknown to many staff.

Intrigued, you wrap a blanket around yourself and peek out at the stranger. His fingers are shorter than his palms, and that's when he tosses of his hood, his eyes set on you. "Y/N..."

You're bewildered by his guise, questions filling your head.

"I was horny, so I left camp" He sits down at the counter, catapulting a cookie into his mouth.

You roll your eyes. "And the guards let you?! Jungkook!" You whisper-yelled at him, readjusting your makeshift blanket-dress.

"Obviously not!" He puffed out his chest with pride. "I bribed them," he smirks.

"You're insufferable," you scoff, your eyes wandering down to observe his physique. His shirt is anything but conservative, highlighting the muscle he'd earned through laborious, sweat-inducing drills. You can feel his eyes on your face as you observe him.

"You can't hide it either," he crosses his arms. "You're standing in the kitchen with a blanket around your naked body." He flicks his tongue. He steps forward, putting a finger under your jaw so you're looking him in the eye.

Your eyes fill with lust as he speaks over your lips. "Look at yourself..." A crash is heard in the other room.

Jungkook's head darts up and in a flash, he disappears into the night.

'Fuck.' You gather your dress from the floor and shuffle back to your chamber.

The first event of the season commences with the most exaltant of spirits as friends of old greet each other with youthful smiles. Juicy exposés, enticing tales, and thoughtful greetings are exchanged in the most formal manner, and the conversation is lively; the most controversial topic of conversation, however, is the rumor that Jungkook is to marry this season.

So far, he's been to four different private residences within his own Kingdom and has been invited, by the secretary of King Louis XVII to meet their daughter. It would be an understatement to say that stakes were high for the pending King.

You were kneading your dough a little too hard thinking about it. "Not so rough, y/n!" Ms.Kang snatches the mixture from your hands. "What is up with you lately, you're so tense! It's really disrupting the kitchen's dynamic."

You shrug it off. "It's going to be hard sedating Anastasie's sweet tooth, I suppose."

"Well, you seem to be doing just fine dealing with Jungkook's addiction to cakes...She's perfect for him, really." Ms.Kang throws more flour on your kneading table and steps off. You give up on the dough, covering it with a cloth and letting it rise.

Jungkook is tapping his feet, munching on finger sandwiches as he waits on you to make an appearance.

"Dearest Prince, look, I am wearing Mediterranean violet!" A duchess shouts as she passes by him, to which he raises his eyebrows at. Another, with dark green eyes approaches and begins speaking rapidly in French at him. Frightened and undereducated, his canned response was: "Excusez-moi, Pouvez-vous répéter plus lentement s'il vous pla��t," to which the duchess furrows her eyebrows before something else catches her attention, elsewhere.

Truth is, Jungkook is incredibly shaken at the thought of announcing his engagement tonight. Well, that and the fact that you had yet to pop out of the kitchen. Man, those finger sandwiches were good.

As the night progresses, Jungkook realizes that if he doesn't get up on that platform and say what he needed to say, he'd have to say it in London. Setting his fears aside, he plants himself on top of the orchestral stage and taps a champagne glass with a cheese fork. The music comes to a stop.

With conviction, he begins: "The time has come that I announce my engagement. To all of my beloved friends, who have introduced me to the most beautiful, talented, diverse, and benevolent ladies I've come to get to know over the years, I thank you from the depths of my soul." He swallows and continues, his confident voice masking his trembling. "The life of a Prince is defined by the virtues presented to him at birth. Those virtues are: duty, responsibility, grace, kindness, mercy and integrity." Here comes the part, oh shit.

"I am abdicating my throne to my Cousin, the Duke of Namseong."

Silence sweeps the room. You poke your head out to see what was going on.

"...to marry the love of my life, y/n." He points at you. Your face is cherry red, and you find yourself dropping those same Danish fucking pastries all over the carpet.

"Shit," you fall on your knees, plucking them from the ground one by one. You don't know whether to run as fast as you can or to present yourself, but your body seems to be currently doing the latter. You go along with it.

Jungkook takes your hand tenderly on the stage. "I am unable to perform my duties as King, and therefore am ineligible for the throne." His touch gives you the will to continue beside him. You feel the pure fear rushing through your love's veins, and he knows that this is the hardest thing he'll ever have to do, yet he stands by his announcement.

So, if Jungkook doesn't get to be King of this World, he at least will forever be the King of Your Heart.

But all this, of course...is all in Your, dear reader, Head.

a/n:

hope you enjoyed.

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jinmukangwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Whumptober 2021 - October 3 - "Who did this to you?"

Fandoms: Linked Universe

Ao3

Warnings: major injury, attempted murder, blood, near-death experiences

---

Trouble comes with a smiling face; not that Wild knows that yet. All he sees is an eager young woman with kind eyes and a humble dress, offering to show him where he can get some wine to cook with tonight.

He and the rest of the heroes have been on the road for quite a while now, without a single town in sight. Nothing but various barns to cross their path. This is the first actual town they’ve seen in miles, even though it’s not a very big one. Yet, there is a small inn for weary travelers, and a marketplace near the front entrance of the town where farmers can sell their goods and towns-folk and gossip. The whole group of them are rather low on funds, but the market seemed like the perfect excuse to relax. Spend some money that they just barely have. Pretend to be normal people for just a few hours.

Just until sunset.

It was Wild, Twilight, Warriors, and Hyrule out in the market while the others were making deals with the innkeepers to get cheaper rooms and more beds. Wild wasn’t really sure what the others were wanting to find out in the market today, but Wild was on the hunt for quality ingredients for quality food that he couldn’t make while on the road. He planned on making a meal tonight fit enough for Zelda herself, and he needed wine to do it. Not to drink, of course not, but to soak into fine slices of meat to add extra flavoring. Nothing strong enough to get a man tipsy—and if he ends up with extra wine, he’ll put it in a flask and gift it to the Old Man. Hylia knows he deserves it.

But he couldn’t find anything even remotely related to wine in these small markets. Some stalls sell alcoholic jars of milk, but Wild honestly has never even heard of milk that could be alcoholic, let alone ever cooked with it. By the time the sun was starting to caress the horizon, frustration was bubbling in his belly because of this and all he could think about were those berries he saw on a tree a few days ago that looked perfect for making some of his own wine out of.

Twilight and Warriors were looking at a jewel-smith's stall, admiring the finely crafted trinkets and murmuring to themselves about the ones that would match her eyes, or impress that gentleman at the tavern, and Wild soon lost interest in both the stall and his love-sick companions. He had stood several feet off, leaning against a brick wall, eyeing the closest stalls to him and hoping for even a small sight of anything close to wine set up for sale.

And then he saw her. Trouble, despite him not knowing it. He didn’t even suspect it. Perhaps he’s gotten too used to the threats of other worlds, that he forgot the threats of his own.

She walked up to him, a swish to her brown dress that seemed to almost have a pink tint. Her hair was brown, done up in messy braids and a bun above her head. Wild assumed she was the daughter of a farmer who was selling crops from their farm, so he didn’t assess her too critically. Before he knew it, she was stopped a few feet from him, swaying her dress side to side between her thin fingers.

“Is there something you’re looking for, travelers?” she asked, her voice sweet like sugared honey. Beside him, Hyrule blushed a bit at the ears.

Wild wasn’t much in a good mood at the moment, but he decided that asking for help might be his only option at this point. “I’m looking for wine, or any kind of beverage like it made out of berries?”

The girl hummed, pressing her finger to her chin in thought. “The most popular beverage ‘round here is milk…” she said, and Wild’s shoulders slumped. But then she continued. “Though, I know a liquor shop further in town where they sell all kinds of drinks. I’ll show you the way, but it closes really soon.”

Hope surged in Wild’s chest. Perhaps he would be able to make a fancy meal tonight after all! Feeling in lighter spirits than he had all night, he told Hyrule to inform Twilight and Warriors that he would be going to the liquor shop. Wild barely noticed the slight hesitation on Hyrule’s face before he turned and did as he was asked. Wild should have noticed it. He should have thought more about how eager and smooth talking the girl was, should have been more in tune with his companion’s concerns, but he followed her out of the market anyway.

And now he’s here, laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood thanks to a hole in his stomach. The “liquor store” was nothing more than an abandoned shop several blocks away from the market, but he only found that out when he walked inside and saw the hastily put together lanterns to give the illusion of life, each one placed among dust and cobwebs. Before he could even turn back and question what was going on, the girl was sliding her arm around his side and heartlessly impaling him with a familiarly curved, sickle-like blade.

Her laugh was also familiar as his knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor, wheezing. Though not familiar in a way that he knew her name; he knew her kind.

“Wh-” he gasps, using one hand to clutch at the floor blanketed in bloody dust, and the other to press onto the wound in his stomach like he’s trying to keep everything in. “What-”

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here, hero,” the girl… Yiga chuckles, stepping over his crumpled body to squat by his head. “To tell the truth, I’m not sure either. I fell into a portal… and found myself in a whole new world. And I saw you, and your friends. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to take you down. This is for Master Kohga-” Wild’s too weak to fight her off as she reaches for his body, searching his pockets and taking the only healing potions that he had. “-and for Calamity Ganon. I don’t care what happens to me now, as long as you die painfully and slowly, right here.”

Then, she stands up, takes his potions, and leaves, shutting the door behind her as she laughs into the night.

Stupid. Wild is so stupid. How did he not guess something like this would happen? Did he truly let his guard down so badly that he forgot to always be on the lookout for Yiga soldiers? Has he become so comfortable traveling between worlds that didn’t have rogue Sheikah that it didn’t matter for him to worry about them as much?

He’s going to bleed out and die here, all because he wanted some wine to cook with in a town that only sold fucking milk and he couldn’t bother to make sure the person he was following was actually someone with good intentions. He can already feel his vision swirling, and his entire body feels pathetically weak and cold. The pain is unbearable, bringing tears to his eyes.

He coughs up blood, and does his best to prepare himself for a failure’s death, as he’s too weak to even call for help; let alone try and save himself.

Stupid…

His vision swirls white, and then fades black, and he knows nothing more.

-o-o-o-o-

“Something’s wrong,” Twilight says, several minutes after Hyrule told him and Warriors that Wild had gone off with some farmer girl to find a liquor store.

“Something is wrong,” Twilight repeats when they ask a local villager for directions to the nearest liquor store, and they reply the only alcohol this town sells is the milk in the market.

Hyrule is quick to point out the direction he remembers seeing Wild and the girl go off in, and then they thankfully split up to cover more ground. The second there’s no one to see, Twilight changes into his wolf form, sniffing the air desperately for his kid. Wild’s scent is one that he will always remember, it’s stored and locked within his brain, right next to Mipha, Zelda, and all the kids at Ordon.

He finds Wild’s trail after a nerve wracking few moments, and then he’s dashing through dimly lit streets like his life depends on it.

The feeling of something being horribly wrong only gets stronger when he finds Wild’s scent leading inside a run down looking building with dim, flickering lanterns in the windows. Then, the reek of blood hits his nostrils at full force. He shifts back into his human form and bursts into the front door without a single care on what’s on the other side.

The stench of blood is stronger here, even for his human nose. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that his eyes drop to the floor along with what feels like a stone in his stomach. Wild is at his feet, curled up like a child, red pooling around his terribly pale body.

“No-” Twilight drops down to his knees, already pulling out his spare red potion and gathering Wild into his arms. Wild makes a strangled groan through his throat, but his eyes are squeezed closed.

He’s alive though. The thought that he’s still alive is the only thing that gives Twilight enough strength to pull out the cork of his jar and shove the opening to Wild’s lips.

Wild chokes as the liquid enters his mouth, but Twilight doesn’t let up. It’s preferable to drink red potions, but when it comes to drastic situations like this, just getting it in the injured person's body is enough to save their lives. Wild coughs through the liquid and writhes in Twilight's arms, and it’s all Twilight can do to keep the bottle there and shakily whisper every comforting word that he knows. Eventually, color returns to Wild’s cheeks, and his eyes blink open blearily as his choking turns into instinctive swallows.

When the contents of the bottle is gone, Twilight lets the glass jar fall to the floor as he now uses his newly freed hand to check Wild’s wound.

It’s still nasty, and deep, but no longer life threatening. Another potion or some stitches and Wild will be as good as new. For the first time in what feels like years, Twilight allows himself to breath out a sigh of intense relief.

“Twi…?” Wild asks, voice incredibly small.

Twilight holds him just a little tighter, willing his heart to calm down. He’s almost… he’s come so close to almost losing-

“Who did this to you?” Twilight demands with a bite to his tone that he doesn’t mean to direct at Wild.

Wild doesn’t react to it though. He just closes his eyes and shakes his head. “It… doesn’t matter…” he replies in a whisper. Twilight feels anger swell in his stomach and he almost argues back, but Wild talks more despite how much it must still hurt. “Later,” he says. “’M hurt, wanna sleep. Deal with… it later.”

Twilight takes a deep breath, counts to five, then lets it out. He doesn’t feel any less upset. However, he keeps his voice level, deciding that arguing with Wild here will just upset the boy more than help him.

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly. “I’m going to carry you, okay? I’m out of potions, but Wars or Hyrule should be nearby with some of their own. Then we can go get a well deserved sleep.”

Wild simply nods and relaxes into Twilight’s arms, breathing a sigh and closing his eyes. Twilight bites his lip, then resolves himself to hold one of his dearest friends close to his chest as he stands up. There’s blood everywhere, staining his hands, his tunic, his boots, his pants. But he got here in time. Wild will be okay.

That’s all that matters now. Once Wild has all his color back and his stomach no longer has a hole in it… then Twilight can make sure whoever did this regrets being born.

“I got you, kid,” he says, “I got you.”

#linked universe #wild linked universe #twilight linked universe #whumptober2021 #no.3 #who did this to you?#blood tw #injury tw #violence tw #fanfiction #jin writes

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the-soupiest-artist · 3 years ago

Text

a very VERY belated birthday to the wonderful, beautiful, ASTOUNDING Samaria!! Raymond is the luckiest musician in the world to be loved by a songbird such as her. So here is a drawing of Raymond and Samaria enjoying a beautiful Ersallian morning in our beloved Royal!au

Samaria is the MC of the lovely @larknnightingale whos friendship I have adored;;v;;

I also wrote a fic to go along with this piece...it's under the cut

Mornings, a relative thing that usually starts after the stroke of midnight, but doesn’t truly set in until the sun crests over the hillsides. To some servants those precious hours before the sun rises was the time they considered morning. As they rose from wherever they laid their head to rest, they had to carry out the many chores of those dark early hours. Especially for those who worked in The Grand Palace of Ersailles, It was a life Samaria was once very used to, as she had previously worked for the ruling king and for his heiress very briefly. That is, until she met the current queen’s cousin. He transformed her from a humble scullery maid and into a glittering primadonna. That same cousin later became her lover and together they carved out a new and beautiful life.

So one would imagine Samaria’s surprise as on her birthday she was startled from her sleep while the dark shade of night still held the morning hours in its grip, to find her lover, Raymond, in the kitchen of their cottage deep within the eastern forest.

He hadn’t noticed her yet as Samaria crept into the kitchen with a curious furrow to her blue brows, Raymond was hunched over the floor of the kitchen, quickly scooping up branches and tiny leaves of rosemary back into their glass jar, which thankfully hadn’t broken. He was muttering under his breath wildly, his black wavy hair swishing this way in that as he tried to clean up the mess to the best of his ability.

Samaria recalled a silly statement Raymond’s mother, Celine, would often say as she watched Raymond scrounge around the kitchen floor.

“Raymond’s talents lie in music, not unfortunately in keeping house”

Which was a strange statement to say considering Celine, as she too was a part of the royal family, had lived in the palace with Raymond almost their entire lives.

Still Samaria thought it was oddly warming to her heart as Raymond hastily scooped up the last few leaves and set the jar back on the counter. He held out his hands with an almost fearful expression, making sure the jar wouldn’t leap to its perpetual death off of the counter once again.

“What possessed you to be up at this hour?” Samaria asked, finally making her presence known. Her head tilted to the side slightly in curiosity. Her blue curls fell from her shoulders and bounced with the movement.

Raymond froze, his muscles tensing and eyes growing wide as the sudden noise startled him. His dilated pupils quickly shot to where the origin of the voice was only to see Samaria standing there. Her doe-like eyes alight with curiosity in the dark kitchen. His body relaxed some, and his words seemed to have been scattered for a moment as he whipped his head from the linen-covered pile on the counter to where his beloved stood.

All the while stuttering; “but- it was- you are…..oh…”

Sheepishly the musician dropped his shoulder and hung his head in defeat, “I was going to surprise you with a breakfast picnic, and a spectacular view of the sunrise.” With a quick flick of his wrist, Raymond pulled back the linen that was obscuring a basket. “For your birthday.”

The basket was handsomely full of what looked to be a few peaches.

A hefty, yet small, wheel of cheese.

A tin of some sort of mysterious treat.

And a thermos of what Samaria could only assume was tea, but from the warm smell that filled the air, it had to have been more of an apple cider. It was being cleverly kept hot in a bottle, it's exterior insulated with bushels of straw bound tightly around the bottle.

Samaria was truly touched. She stood there at a loss for words for a few moments. It didn’t matter how early it was, or how Samaria wished she was awakened to the feeling of Raymond cuddled against her. He had gone out of his way and had expertly planned to make the start of Samaria’s special day extraordinary.

Once her mind had processed the beautiful gift her lover had crafted for her she swept her arms around Raymond and hugged him tightly. A wide grin appeared on Raymond’s face, not because his dearest was hugging him, but because he knew Samaria loved what he had attempted to do for her. Naturally, he hugged back, he loved how perfectly his arms wrapped around her. The two stood there in the kitchen for a few moments. Snuggled in each other’s embrace they both had the same lovesick expression. Samaria’s head pressed firmly into Raymond’s chest and Raymond’s head resting upon hers.

“What a wonderfully fantastic thing you have done!” Samaria’s muffled voice could still be heard through Raymond’s linen shirt. Her head poking out from against his chest to look up at him with sincere joy, “When are we leaving?”

Raymond’s grin grew into a full smile. Taking his love’s hand he kissed it almost gleefully as he stated that he would like to leave as soon as possible. So Samaria set off quickly and soon enough the two love birds were on their way trudging through the dark misty morning of the Ersaillian woodland.

Finally breaking the barrier of trees, Raymond helped Samaria over a small fence as they needed to cross over some old farmer’s land. Unfortunately, the hem of Samaria’s dress was snagged, and in Raymond’s brave attempt to unhook it from the rotting wood fence, all the while still keeping his love balanced in his arms. The two toppled over and landed in the tall grassy field with a thud. Which in turn awakened a few sheep that seemed to have been sleeping with their herd. Spitting grass from his mouth, with a rather sour wrinkle to his brow, Raymond came face to face with one of the sheep. To which Raymond knew belonged to the farmer who owned the land. Seeing as the sheep was marked for ownership.

Samaria perked up from the grass rather quickly, “Not to worry! Our picnic is safe!” she exclaimed boisterously, yet still quiet. She held up the basket, it was then when Samaria realized 3 other sheep were surrounding her and all staring rather ravenously at whatever contents sat in the picnic basket. Whirling around quickly Samaria spotted Raymond not far beside her, who was on his knees and face to face with a fourth sheep. She suppressed a giggle, seeing as their predicament was now a stand-off of musicians with a picnic basket versus hungry sheep (who were much cranky after being disturbed in the wee hours of the morning). Quickly Raymond stood to his feet, the sheep jumping back in response, but his companions still cautiously crept forward. Raymond looked from the basket to the sheep who all had started bleating at them.

“No sudden movements,” Raymond warned quietly, as he slowly backed away from the sheep who were starting close in. “They think our picnic belongs to them.”

“Well, that makes sense.” Samaria muttered back, following in his lead as she too started taking steps back from the sheep, “we are intruders on their land. It seems they are wanting compensation for waking them up.”

“Oh, sadness.” Raymond huffed. One of the other sheep huffed back in response. “If only we weren’t on a time-sensitive celebration. Then I’d be willing to negotiate.”

“You could try serenading them with your pan flute,” Samaria suggested, tilting her head back over her shoulder as she responded. The two were almost back to back now as Raymond muttered, “no good. Sheep don’t respond to flutes. I’ve tried it. They prefer the harp as opposed to the pan flute.” Raymond reached his hand back, knowing he must’ve been close to Samaria now. He continued, “besides, I’d rather not test the irritation of these woolen lambs. My playing might anger them further.”

“What else would you suggest?” Samaria lifted the basket above her head as a sheep tried to snap at it. Now back to back, and surrounded. Raymond looked from bleating sheep to bleating sheep, his eyes flickering light when he realized he did have an idea.

In one smooth and quick motion, Raymond scooped Samaria up into his arm, the basket still held far above her head. Raymond took a deep breath, his chest puffing out slightly to make himself look bigger.

“Baaaaaaack you sheep!” Raymond scolded, even if it sounded more like a braying sheep.

The sheep all stood stunned and jumped back.

Raymond shouted his warning again, the sheep seemed to back away. Startled from Raymond’s shouting, eventually carving a path for them to run and escape to.

Once Raymond had felt they had reached safety, he slowed his run to a walk Samaria still in his arms. He looked over his shoulder just to be sure the sheep hadn’t followed past the farmland. He let out a heavy sigh out of relief, a few beads of sweat running down his cheek. Now perfectly distracted Samaria leaned up and delicately kissed his cheek. His salty sweat pricked her lips ever so slightly, yet she didn’t care. Raymond froze in surprise, his shocked expression melting quickly into a smile as he looked down at Samaria. Her precious brown eyes peered up at him as she sweetly muttered, “my hero.”

“Anything for you my songbird.” He smiled, “no sheep, or beast is too great of a challenge. Especially if it means your safety.”

Samaria smiled brightly and wiggled out of Raymond’s grasp so she could walk hand in hand beside him.

The couple continued onward in their journey, the last obstacle, as Raymond assured Samaria, was just crossing a babbling river. Which was a bit of a fiasco all on its own. But due to Raymond’s quick wit, he was able to save his dearest love from dipping a singular precious foot into the cold rushing current. Breaking the line of a smaller forest, which they had to traverse through after the river, they finally came to the place Raymond was looking for. Passing through a rotting detached fence they arrived at this beautiful hillside. Lush plants, grasses, and many colorful flowers cascaded down the hillside and into the plains below the hill, which stretched for a few more miles until it hit the mountains that protected the more rural farmlands of Ersailles. It was still dark, but both Raymond and Samaria could tell the morning view of the sunrise was going to be spectacular. They settled on the hillside and Raymond began to weave together several daisy chains as Samaria set out their picnic. Her careful hand placing the items in the optimal places so they wouldn’t roll down the hill. The feat however was a bit of a trial, as Raymond had to run down the hill to retrieve a peach once or twice. Samaria finally just stuck the damn thing in her mouth out of frustration, to which Raymond laughed as he finished off his first daisy chain. He fastened it into a crown and gently placed it atop his dearest love’s head, pulling her hair out and around the delicate crown so it wouldn’t fall off her head.

He shifted to face her in the grass, admiring her beautiful face. Samaria could just see Raymond’s blue eyes melt at the mere sight of her, she felt her heart flutter and a soft blush crept up her cheeks.

“Beautiful.” Raymond whispered, “not just today, on your birthday, the most wonderful day of the year. But every day.”

Samaria’s heart not overflowing with adoration she kissed his lips sweetly, and Raymond kissed her back. Gently Raymond pulled away and sat beside her, he poured them both the cider as they continued to wait for the sun’s arrival.

“I was very curious as to why there was a bundle of straw in this basket.” Samaria inquired, blowing on the still somehow warm cider before taking a sip. “Where did you get such an idea?”

Raymond held up the bottle with a sort of pride to his smile, “Lyra and I when we were younger, we would often be required to read books for tutoring and all of that. Of course, our tutor was my mother, aside from Lyra learning...queenly things, she encouraged us to read books we wouldn’t normally seek out. She said it was good to stretch the mind that way.”

He took a long sip from his cup, sighing as the warm liquid hit his senses and the morning chill was chased away. “I read about this baker who was trying to think of a way to keep whipped cream cold. He had built houses for his father before becoming a pastry chef and knew straw was a good insulator. His idea worked, although not in the way he expected. Turns out that chef discovered the prototype to what we know now as la glace, or I suppose more commonly it is known as ice cream.” He let out a bit of a short laugh, “I figured if it could work with keeping things cold, it could keep things hot.”

Samaria was almost baffled by the idea, yet she made a note that she had to try and make her own ice cream. “Well, it worked. This apple cider is perfect for drinking”

Raymond smiled down at her, and at last, the first light of day was starting to peek through the mountains. The dark sky finally giving way to a brighter purple.

Quickly Raymond grabbed Samaria’s hand, his eyes glowing with a giddy light to them. “I’ve been wanting to bring you here since the moment I first heard your name.”

The sunlight illuminated the valley in pockets, some of the grassy brush was still clouded in darkness, while others were cast in a bright orange glow, the dew on each blade of grass sparkled, making the valley look like a field of sparkling diamonds. The sky was painted a beautiful soft pink and orange. The clouds that drifted by looked like tiny pink sheep all resting by the mountain tops, and as the sun started to warm the earth, it too started to warm the bodies of the couple taking in the breath-taking sight.

Samaria’s eyes were affixed and delighted at the wondrous view, she found herself scooting closer to Raymond, resting her head against his shoulder.

Raymond gently lifted Samaria’s hand to his lips and kissed it softly, “This is how you make me feel.” He spoke quietly like if he raised his voice even the slightest bit, the spectacular view would shut itself away and it would be night once again. “Every song you sing, every prank you pull, every step you take, every ‘i love you’ that rings and resonates on my ears.” Raymond turned his attention to Samaria, turning her cheek gently so he could look at her fully so that she might understand just how sincere he was being, “Every time you blush as any of my words, every sigh that falls from your lips, and every flutter of your beautiful...perfect...lashes.” He paused for only a moment, staring into her eyes with such love, such adoration. “You, Samaria, the very fabrication of everything that you are, casts eternal rays of sunshine into my soul.” He pressed her hand to his heart and Samaria’s cheeks flushed a deeper color of red, “ It burns me up and I am more than willing, thankful even, to be consumed by this fiery love I have for you.”

He looked out into the wondrous view for a few moments, shaking his head, almost not believing what he was hearing himself say, “I used to think that this sight. This beautiful phenomenon that nature had woven together, was the most wondrous, beautiful thing I had ever experienced in my entire life.” Raymond, now on the brink of tears, turned back to Samaria. “I was a foolish boy for thinking this. For today, of all days. You, the most beautiful, wondrous person to behold, was born on this day.” He inhaled deeply, his free hand brushing a few loose curls behind Samaria’s pointed ear, “and I am eternally grateful for it. It is an absolute privilege to be a part of your life. That is how much you mean to me, how you as a person, primadonna and touring with a world-famous opera aside, it is just you Samaria...and only you for which my heart years and will forever question how...how could I have been brought such a perfect angel?”

Samaria was at a loss for words, she felt a little overwhelmed at Raymond’s words. He was known for being incredibly easy with compliments but this...this was much different than a simple flick of the tongue. He had truly felt all of these things so strongly and now he was spilling his heart out to her, almost like he was confessing his love to her for the very first time all over again.

Not knowing what else to do at that moment, Samaria hugged Raymond tightly, her legs wrapping around his waist and burning into his neck. Raymond held her tightly, his fingers tangling in her hair as he let a few tears slide down his cheek. “Happy birthday love, I love you so….so much.”

Once the sappy heartfelt moment had passed, the lovers broke into the picnic fully. It was then discovered that in Raymond’s fumbling around the dark kitchen, as to not raise the suspicions of Samaria as he was packing the basket, he accidentally packed the sea biscuits instead of the scones. Thankfully they still tasted good with the cheese Raymond had also brought.

As the sun continued its climb, Raymond and Samaria enjoyed their picnic. Samaria felt truly blessed on the morning of her birthday, the sunrise was beautiful, however, unfortunately early she had to rise to see it. She wasn’t going to let Raymond’s efforts go unrewarded, and as a start, she made him a matching daisy crown and necklace. As she adorned her dearest love with the floral jewelry she kissed his head, “Thank you, darling, for the most fantastic start to this day.” She muttered sweetly to him. Raymond simply just took her hand and squeezed it gently with a wide smile. Raymond pulled his pan flute from his pocket and quietly the sound of Peer Gynt’s “Morning Mood” filled the air. Samaria scanned the grassy patch she sat down in and picked a few flowers to take home a press between some of Raymond’s books, she wanted to remember every last detail of this morning, and this day.

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nevermindirah · 4 years ago

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I'm having a crappy day....can I get Random 19 and Kisses 7 from your prompt list??

You sure can! Here, have a fusion of the two! I hope your day gets much, much better. <3

---

"She's hiding behind the sofa."

Nile doesn't know what she expected, when she asked her dear husband where their precious daughter is. She's had a long-ass day, and from the look of him, so has Booker. Their "date night" is about to be the most sexually charged 5-minute cuddle turned several-hour nap in history.

"And I see you're hiding on the sofa," she says with an eyebrow quirk that he meets with his very most charming sleepy smile.

He's practically been single-parenting while she and Nicky have been planning this next op. She can take this one for the team.

"Hey, baby girl," Nile calls as she walks around the couch to start what she very much hopes is not going to be a prolonged fight to get her daughter ready to go to Andy and Quynh's for the night.

"I'm a witch and this is my bog! Visitors have to pay the fee!" comes a small voice from a small girl standing up amid a pile of blankets and stuffed animals.

There she is. The bestest four-year-old of all time. Her perfect, sweet, silly, curious, determined Kiara.

Emphasis on the determined. Booker's lucky he's pretty, because he saves up his "she got it from her mama" teasing for when their daughter is being the absolute soul of stubbornness.

"Oh yeah?" Nile says. "What's the fee for visitors to your bog?"

"A hug!" Kiara grins, and then she gets that look. "And pizza!"

Nile play-gasps. "I am but a humble farmer, I have no pizza! May I pay the bog witch in hugs alone?"

Kiara is running up to her, so Nile scoops her up in her arms for the kind of big spinning bear hug she learned from her big brother Joe.

"Hi, baby girl. I missed you," Nile says into her daughter's hair.

"I missed you too, mama! Do you want to play magic with me?"

She sets Kiara down and catches Booker giving her a significant look over their daughter's head.

"I would love to hear all about your magic," she says. Here's hoping this works. "Remember, sweetheart, you're staying with Auntie Andy and Auntie Quynh tonight! Come tell me all about your spells while we get you ready!"

It works. Kiara gushes about all the frogs and wolves and unicorns and yetis who live in her bog, and the spells they cast when they all hold hands, and the yucky smelly ingredients that make pretty colors in her cauldron, and how Auntie Andy said—

Auntie Andy says a lot of things about magic to her daughter. Nile has made peace with never knowing for sure whether Andy is just fucking with her or if she's teaching her daughter actual ancient magic.

The distraction from playing magic to listening to an extended description of it works, and Kiara is still happily chattering away when it's time to say goodbye to papa and walk through the neighborhood to Andy and Quynh's. Booker scoops up their baby girl for hugs and kisses as she babbles about how the bear has awoken from his hibernation and this will make her spells even more powerful! He blows Nile a kiss over Kiara's shoulder.

By the time Nile is back from reuniting the bog witch with her ancestors — it's possible Nile should be worried about what Andy and Quynh are teaching her, but that's not a right-now problem — the house smells amazing. She takes a moment to smooth out her clothes and slap on a little lipstick before making her way into the kitchen.

Booker has changed into a clean shirt, sleeves rolled up his forearms under the apron, and he's set out candles on the kitchen table.

"Hey, babe," she says, to warn him she's coming before she wraps her arms around him. He keeps chopping the strawberries for the salad while she leans her head into his shoulder, careful not to smear her lipstick all over his crisp white shirt, the only efforts either of them made at getting dressed up for their date night.

"Bonsoir, mon désir" he says. "I made quiche, should be ready in about 15 more minutes. When I'm done with the salad would you like to sit down and tell me about your day?"

She hums. "I would like for us both to be well-rested enough to spend all night working on making another baby. But that sounds nice too."

"Did Quynh tell you she wants to take Kiara to a pick-your-own farm tomorrow?" he asks.

Damn, she really is tired. She hadn't even confirmed the pickup plan. "She didn't," Nile says. "Too busy discussing bog witch business."

His shoulders shake a little with a gentle laugh. "When are you due to meet Nicky in the morning?"

"Not until 11," she says. And then she realizes what this means.

Booker sets down the knife and wipes his hands on a nearby kitchen towel. "In that case," he says, voice thick, "I know what I'd like to have for breakfast."

Nile hums again. She lifts her head so she can spin him around to face her, and instead of the smirk she was expecting, she finds he looks a little shy.

"I would love that," she says. She tilts her chin up and lets him do the rest to close the distance between them. His warm, chaste kiss fades into a brush of their noses fades into resting his forehead gently against hers. They rest there, eyes closed, arms around each other, practically asleep on their feet until the oven timer alerts them that dinner's ready.

---

I love the idea of Nile and Booker raising kids in a house they share with Andy and Quynh and Joe and Nicky and I feel a little weird reproducing the heterosexual nuclear family shit that was toxic as hell how my parents did it. But fuck it, this is an easy way to have this baby be adorable and then get her out of the house so Nile and Booker can be the grown-up kind of adorable.

Napping with someone you love is such a valid date night activity. I hope everyone reading this gets good rest tonight.

#fandom friends #book of nile #nile freeman #sebastien le livre #parenting #tog fic #tog #my tumblr fics #mine

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silvertaetae · 5 years ago

Text

Rosé and Rolexes {Preview}

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader (Arranged Marriage!)

Warnings: Love to Hate, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Lots of Arguing, Alcohol, Reader gets mad and throws Tae’s gucci slides out a window.

Summary: The Parks and the Kims had always been enemies. The two most powerful businesses is South Korea, but when a scare erupts in both companies they’re left to fix it somehow. That somehow is Kim Taehyung the one person you hate more than anything in this world. His arrogant, cocky, blunt, rude and most importantly he’s your new husband? As you’re forced too be with this man will you two finally bury the hatchet or will this end in more flames then it started?

____________________________________________

Being wealthy is not always fun.

It’s not always, glitz and glamor.

It’s not always getting what you want or what you need.

It’s just about having money.

That’s it’s.

You may have money, but it doesn’t mean that you have all the power. You can be a pawn for someone else’s gain and that’s exactly what’s happened to you. Your grandfather had hit it big when he bought a piece of what he thought was crappy land which actually turned out to be sitting on one of the biggest oil mines in South Korea. Causing him to go from low class farmer to one of South Korea’s richest men. He ran his business well and always stayed humble throughout.

Giving to the little people and still keeping his business a float. Your grandfather was your biggest hero and even after his untimely death at the age of eighty three from heart failure, he remained your biggest inspiration.

Your father, sadly, had lost some of his humbleness being surrounded with riches at the ripe age of fifteen. He basically got everything handed to him by his mother.

He still remained sympathetic to the people who worked hard to make an earnest living, but he seemed to have forgotten the days where he would stay outside for hours on end working so his family could barely get by. His thoughts had been more preoccupied with how to get money and how fast he could get it. In the first two years since the death of your grandfather he had doubled the money Park Enterprise was sitting on.

He moved your family to a bigger mansion when you were seven and your brother Jimin was eight, making you uncomfortable with having to go to an even fancier private school.

Since that day, all you can remember is the diamonds, glitter and gold thrown at you, but you always remember losing all your friends and your parents not being around as much anymore. You remember being on magazines, but not being able to go out and get a simple ice cream cone without being followed. You don’t even remember the last time you had fast food.

Caviar was no longer something that you dreamed of having.

It was lunch.

All the things you had enjoyed even when you were rich, had not been taken away because of a spotlight. Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse. They did.

Around the time of your sixteenth birthday another family had hit the nail on money, but they made their money in real estate.

The Kims.

They built condos and apartment complexes. Even building houses for upcoming celebrities. They were stupid rich and seemed to be competition for the title of richest family in South Korea.

People buzzed about a non-existent feud between you two. Everyone discussed the fall of the Park Dynasty or the Kim Empire.

Your father at first brushed off the talk. Treating it like the gossip it was, but when there was an accidental scare about a certain place where your family was digging and how the Kims could lose money, they both came together to show the press there was no bad blood. As well as, becoming business partners, working together to build upon their massive wealth.

Jimin had even became close to their son.

Kim Taehyung.

The one person you hated more than anyone else in the world.

He was obnoxious, arrogant, spoiled and more than anything he was full of himself.

He always walked around, dressed head to toe in Gucci, thinking that this was his world and never considered the thoughts or feelings of others.

He was unapologetically blunt and said whatever he wanted, and you hated it.

He on the other hand, enjoyed watching you get frustrated with him over his presence. He saw this as a game.

One that he wasn’t willing to lose or so you both thought.

That was up until both companies almost lost everything they had.

Your father and his had made a bad investment and the fear their empires crumbling seemed inevitable, but they made it back.

Rising higher in glory, but it still scared both of them. Made them look past what was just in front of them and into what their companies would look years from now. Which is how you ended up in this situation.

“Jimin what do you think dad wants?” You look down at the carpet below you. Tip of your heel tapping against the floor as you tap the arm of the chair.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be fine! He never calls me to his office. Last time he did, it was because I had almost crashed his Lamborghini.” Jimin was silent and you groaned, sliding into the chair.

“Okay so maybe it’s something big, but it can’t be that bad.” You pout and put your head on Jimin’s shoulder.

“I never thought I would see Y/N pout?” You freeze at the sound of the familiar voice. You open your eyes only to be met Taehyung’s.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You growl, snapping your head off of Jimin’s shoulder.

“I’m as clueless as you are Y/N. I literally just got here.” He sat down on the leather couch opposite of you. Arrogant smile painting his face.

“Why didn’t tell me you were coming man. I could’ve warned her.” Jimin leaned forward and you rolled your eyes. Not understanding how someone as nice as Jimin could be friends with someone as vile as Taehyung.

“I got the call about twenty minutes ago. My dad is in there and he asked me to come.” Your eyebrow arches up and you feel your nerves shoot up again. Heel starting it tapping again. “Calm down. I’m sure it’s something like making a public appearance. Showing the mixture of the family or something like that.”

“I haven’t been called to his office in almost five years.” You mumble out completely ignoring that you were talking to Taehyung.

“Y/N, you’re going to be okay. I promise. As your big brother I swear nothing bad will happen.” You nod, leg still twitching. It’s silent for a while and you see Taehyung squirm on the couch. His thumbs meeting trying to calm his nerves.

“Y/N. Taehyung.” You jump slightly turning your head over to look at Taehyung’s dad who had a small smile on smile. “I need you two in here.” You look at Jimin and Taehyung before looking back at Mr. Kim. You both hesitantly get up and walk into the office.

You fidget slightly and Taehyung grabs your shoulder and you freeze.

“You’ll be okay. I’m sure of it.” He gives you a small smile and you nod slightly, before walking over to your father’s desk.

“Y/N! Taehyung! It’s so good to see you two in the same room without fighting.” You inwardly roll your eyes at his statement. “Sit. Go ahead.” You do, legs crossing in anticipation. You can hear Mr. Kim coming from behind you two, before he finally sits in the chair next to Taehyung.

“You look nervous Y/N?” Mr. Kim says, a smile still on his face. “Are you okay?” You’re silent and you stare at your heels again.

“Answer Mr. Kim Y/N.” You’re fathers more authoritarian tone kicked in and you immediately snap up.

“I’m fine sir, sorry.” You nod your head and make eye contact with Tae who looked almost...angered?

“I’m so sorry for her behavior. She’s never been a people person, but maybe she can be after this.” You finally rip your eyes away from Tae and Mr. Kim, looking back at your father in confusion. “We have good news you two.”

“Y/N, you’re father and I came on to an agreement in a way that could save both of our business.” You look at Taehyung who’s already staring at you with the same confusion.

“You two are getting married!”

You freeze for a solid minute before your able to understand the words that left your father's mouth.

“I’m sorry-what?” Taehyung ask as your mouth hangs open.

“You and Y/N are getting married. Isn’t that exciting?”

“I’m sorry. WHAT?!” You both yelled shooting out of the chairs.

“I can barely stand him?! Why him? Why not Jungkook or Seonghwa!?”

“Y/N! Show some respect!” Your father stares almost in shock at your reaction. You weren’t expecting to hear Taehyung laugh.

“What was all that about Jinsoul and Jung’s huh? You’d of course marry me to my best friend's baby sister!” The room is silent and you feel the tension.

“Taehyung.” His father cuts in. “I won’t be around forever and neither will Y/N’s father. We need to know that everything we’ve made won’t go down the drain once we pass our companies on.” You wince at Mr. Kim's words.

“Dad-”

“You don’t get to choose what you want this time. It’s yes or yes.” You’re stunned at the way Mr. Kim speaks to Taehyung. It’s almost as if he looks down upon his own child. You thought you were the only kid going through things like that.

“Then what about me huh? Where’s my say?”

“You don’t get one.” Your father says almost annoyed. You clench your jaw and you see Taehyung’s fist clench. “Now if you two are done. It will be announced tomorrow.” You look at Taehyung only to see his head hanging and jaw shut tight. “The wedding will be taking place in a couple months. We’ll give the exact date when everything is planned.”

This had to be a dream.

You wanted to open your eyes and wake up in your bed.

“That will be all.”

Then reality hit you.

You’re about to marry the one person you despise more than anyone else.

Lucky you.

____________________________________________

A/N: Sorry for being gone for so long! I have another account and school work and sports. It’s a lot, but I’m glad I can be back! Please be safe and stay healthy! I love you all!💓

#kim taehyung angst #kim taehyung smut #kim taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #bts smut #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #rosé and rolexs #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung fanfiction #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #bts angst #bts fluff

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mystiika · 3 years ago

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i mean you can read if you want? but it’s mainly for my own notes to refer back to. hades in ovid metamorphoses book v & the orphic hymns

Bk V:332-384

Calliope sings: Cupid makes Dis fall in love

‘This much she played on her lute, with singing voice. Then called on us, - but perhaps you are not at leisure, or free to listen to a repetition of our music?’ ‘Do not stop’ said Pallas, ‘but sing your song again as you arranged it!’ and she sat amongst the light shadows of the grove. The Muse renewed her tale ‘We gave our best singer to the contest. Calliope, who rose, with her loose hair bound with ivy, tried out the plaintive strings with her fingers, then accompanied the wandering notes with this song.

‘“Ceres first turned the soil with curving plough, first ripened the crops and produce of the earth, first gave us laws: all things are Ceres’s gift. My song is of her. If only I could create a song in any way worthy of the goddess! This goddess is truly a worthy subject for my song.

‘“Trinacris, the vast isle of Sicily, had been heaped over the giant’s limbs, and with its great mass oppressed buried Typhoeus, he who had dared to aspire to a place in heaven. He struggles it’s true and often tries to rise, but his right hand is held by the promontory of Ausonian Pelorus, and his left hand by you, Pachynus. Lilybaeum presses on his legs, Etna weighs down his head, supine beneath it, Typhoeus throws ash from his mouth, and spits out flame. Often, a wrestler, he throws back the weight of earth, and tries to roll the high mountains and the cities from his body, and then the ground trembles, and even the lord of the silent kingdom is afraid lest he be exposed, and the soil split open in wide fissures, and the light admitted to scare the anxious dead.

‘“Fearing this disaster, the king of the dark had left his shadowy realm, and, drawn in his chariot by black horses, carefully circled the foundations of the Sicilian land. When he had checked and was satisfied that nothing was collapsing, he relinquished his fears. Then Venus, at Eryx, saw him moving, as she sat on the hillside, and embraced her winged son, Cupid, and said ‘My child, my hands and weapons, my power, seize those arrows, that overcome all, and devise a path for your swift arrows, to the heart of that god to whom the final share of the triple kingdom fell. You conquer the gods and Jupiter himself, the lords of the sea, and their very king, who controls the lords of the sea. Why is Tartarus excepted? Why not extend your mother’s kingdom and your own? We are talking of a third part of the world. And yet, as is evident to me, I am scorned in heaven, and Love’s power diminishes with mine.

‘“‘Don’t you see how Pallas, and the huntress Diana, forsake me? And Ceres’s daughter too, Proserpine, will be a virgin if we allow it, since she hopes to be like them. But you, if you delight in our shared kingdom, can mate the goddess to her uncle.’ So Venus spoke: he undid his quiver, and at his mother’s bidding took an arrow, one from a thousand, and none was sharper, more certain, or better obeyed the bow. Then he bent the pliant tips against his knee, and with his barbed arrow struck Dis in the heart.”’

“Venus of Eryx, from her mountain throne, Saw Hades and clasped her swift-winged son, and said: ‘Cupid, my child, my warrior, my power, Take those sure shafts with which you conquer all, And shoot your speedy arrows to the heart Of the great god to whom the last lot fell When the three realms were drawn. Your mastery Subdues the gods of heaven and even Jove, Subdues the ocean’s deities and him, Even him, who rules the ocean’s deities. Why should Hell lag behind? Why not there too Extend your mother’s empire and your own….? Then Cupid, guided by his mother, opened His quiver of all his thousand arrows Selected one, the sharpest and the surest, The arrow most obedient to the bow, And bent the pliant horn against his knee And shot the barbed shaft deep in Pluto’s heart.” ― Ovid, Metamorphoses

Bk V:385-424

Calliope sings: Dis and the abduction of Proserpine

‘“Not far from the walls of Enna, there is a deep pool. Pergus is its name. Caÿster does not hear more songs than rise from the swans on its gliding waves. A wood encircles the waters, surrounds them on every side, and its leaves act as a veil, dispelling Phoebus’s shafts. The branches give it coolness, and the moist soil, Tyrian purple flowers: there, it is everlasting Spring. While Proserpine was playing in this glade, and gathering violets or radiant lilies, while with girlish fondness she filled the folds of her gown, and her basket, trying to outdo her companions in her picking, Dis, almost in a moment, saw her, prized her, took her: so swift as this, is love. The frightened goddess cries out to her mother, to her friends, most of all to her mother, with piteous mouth. Since she had torn her dress at the opening, the flowers she had collected fell from her loosened tunic, and even their scattering caused her virgin tears. The ravisher whipped up his chariot, and urged on the horses, calling them by name, shaking out the shadowy, dark-dyed, reins, over their necks and manes, through deep pools, they say, and the sulphurous reeking swamps of the Palici, vented from a crevice of the earth, to Syracuse where the Bacchiadae, a people born of Corinth between two seas, laid out their city between unequal harbours.

‘“Between Cyane and Pisaean Arethusa, there is a bay enclosed by narrow arms. Here lived Cyane, best known of the Sicilian nymphs, from whom the name of the spring was also taken. She showed herself from the pool as far as her waist, and recognising the goddess, cried out to Dis, ‘No’, and ‘Go no further!’ ‘You cannot be Ceres’s son against her will: the girl should have been asked, and not abused. If it is right for me to compare small things with great, Anapis prized me and I wedded him, but I was persuaded by talk and not by terror.’ Speaking, she stretched her arms out at her sides, obstructing him. The son of Saturn could scarcely contain his wrath, and urging on the dread horses, he turned his royal sceptre with powerful arm, and plunged it through the bottom of the pool. The earth, pierced, made a road to Tartarus, and swallowed the headlong chariot, into the midst of the abyss.

Bk V:425-486

Calliope sings: Ceres searches for Proserpine

‘“Cyane, mourning the abduction of the goddess, and the contempt for the sanctities of her fountain, nursed an inconsolable grief in her silent heart, and pined away wholly with sorrow. She melted into those waters whose great goddess she had previously been. You might see her limbs becoming softened, her bones seeming pliant, her nails losing their hardness. First of all the slenderest parts dissolve: her dusky hair, her fingers and toes, her feet and ankles (since it is no great transformation from fragile limbs to cool waters). Next her breast and back, shoulders and flanks slip away, vanishing into tenuous streams. At last the water runs in her ruined veins, and nothing remains that you could touch.

‘“Meanwhile the mother, fearing, searches in vain for the maid, through all the earth and sea. Neither the coming of dewy-haired Aurora, nor Hesperus, finds her resting. Lighting pine torches with both hands at Etna’s fires, she wanders, unquiet, through the bitter darkness, and when the kindly light has dimmed the stars, she still seeks her child, from the rising of the sun till the setting of the sun.

‘“She found herself thirsty and weary from her efforts, and had not moistened her lips at any of the springs, when by chance she saw a hut with a roof of straw, and she knocked on its humble door. At that sound, an old woman emerged, and saw the goddess, and, when she asked for water, gave her something sweet made with malted barley. While she drank what she had been given a rash, foul-mouthed boy stood watching, and taunted her, and called her greedy. The goddess was offended, and threw the liquid she had not yet drunk, mixed with the grains of barley, in his face. His skin, absorbing it, became spotted, and where he had once had arms, he now had legs. A tail was added to his altered limbs, and he shrank to a little shape, so that he has no great power to harm. He is like a lesser lizard, a newt, of tiny size. The old woman wondered and wept, and, trying to touch the creature, it ran from her and searched out a place to hide. It has a name fitting for its offence, stellio, its body starred with various spots.

‘“It would take too long to tell through what lands and seas the goddess wandered. Searching the whole earth, she failed to find her daughter: she returned to Sicily, and while crossing it from end to end, she came to Cyane, who if she had not been changed would have told all. But though she wished to, she had neither mouth nor tongue, nor anything with which to speak. Still she revealed clear evidence, known to the mother, and showed Persephone’s ribbon, fallen, by chance, into the sacred pool. As soon as she recognised it, the goddess tore her dishevelled hair, and beat her breast again and again with her hands, as if she at last comprehended the abduction. She did not know yet where Persephone was, but condemned all the lands, and called them thankless and unworthy of her gift of corn, Sicily, that Trinacria, above all, where she had discovered the traces of her loss.

‘“So, in that place, with cruel hands, she broke the ploughs that turned up the soil, and, in her anger, dealt destruction to farmers, and the cattle in their fields, alike, and ordered the ever-faithful land to fail, and spoiled the sowing. The fertility of that country, acclaimed throughout the world, was spoken of as a fiction: the crops died as young shoots, destroyed by too much sun, and then by too much rain. Wind and weather harmed them, and hungry birds gathered the scattered seed. Thistles and darnel and stubborn grasses ruined the wheat harvest.

Bk V:487-532

Calliope sings: Ceres asks Jupiter’s help

‘“Then Arethusa, once of Elis, whom Alpheus loved, lifted her head from her pool, and brushed the wet hair from her forehead, saying ‘O great goddess of the crops, mother of that virgin sought through all the earth, end your fruitless efforts, and do not anger yourself so deeply against the faithful land. The land does not deserve it: it opened to the abduction against its will. It is not my country, I pray for: I came here as a stranger. Pisa is my country, and Elis is my source. I am a foreigner in Sicily, but its soil is more to me than other lands. Here is my home: here are my household gods. Most gentle one, preserve it. A fitting time will come for me to tell you, how I moved from my country, and came to Ortygia, over such a great expanse of sea, when you are free of care, and of happier countenance. The fissured earth showed me a way, and slipping below the deepest caverns, here, I lifted up my head, and saw the unfamiliar stars.

‘“‘So, while I glided underground down there, among Stygian streams, with these very eyes, I saw your Proserpine. She was sad indeed, but, though her face was fearful still, she was nevertheless a queen, the greatest one among the world of shadows, the powerful consort, nevertheless, of the king of hell!’ The mother was stunned to hear these words, as if petrified, and was, for a long time, like someone thunderstruck, until the blow of deep amazement became deep indignation. She rose, in her chariot, to the realms of heaven. There, her whole face clouded with hate, she appeared before Jove with dishevelled hair.

‘“‘Jupiter I have come to you in entreaty for my child and for your own’ she cried. ‘If the mother finds no favour with you, let the daughter move you, and do not let your concern for her be less, I beg you, because I gave her birth. See, the daughter I have searched for so long, has been found, if you call it finding to lose her more surely, if you call it finding merely to know where she is. I can bear the fact that she has been abducted, if he will only return her! A spoiler is not worthy to be the husband of your daughter, even if she is no longer my daughter.’ Jupiter replied ‘Our child is a pledge and a charge, between us, you and I. But if only we are willing to give things their right names, the thing is not an insult in itself: the truth is it is love. He would not be a shameful son-in-law for us, if only you would wish it, goddess. How great a thing it is to be Jupiter’s brother, even if all the rest is lacking! Why, what if there is nothing lacking at all, except what he yielded to me by lot? But if you have such a great desire to separate them, Proserpine shall return to heaven, but on only one condition, that no food has touched her lips, since that is the law, decreed by the Fates.’

Bk V:533-571

Calliope sings: Persephone’s fate

‘“He spoke, and Ceres felt sure of regaining her daughter. But the Fates would not allow it, for the girl had broken her fast, and wandering, innocently, in a well-tended garden, she had pulled down a reddish-purple pomegranate fruit, hanging from a tree, and, taking seven seeds from its yellow rind, squeezed them in her mouth. Ascalaphus was the only one to see it, whom, it is said, Orphne bore, to her Acheron, in the dark woods, she not the least known of the nymphs of Avernus. He saw, and by his cruel disclosure, prevented Proserpine’s return. Then the queen of Erebus grieved, and changed the informant into a bird of ill omen: she sprinkled his head with water from the Phlegethon, and changed him to a beak, plumage, and a pair of huge eyes. Losing his own form he is covered by his tawny wings, and looks like a head, and long, curving claws. He scarcely stirs the feathers growing on his idle wings. He has become an odious bird, a messenger of future disaster, the screech owl, torpid by day, a fearful omen to mortal creatures.

‘“He indeed can be seen to have deserved his punishment, because of his disclosure and his words. But why have you, Sirens, skilled in song, daughters of Acheloüs, the feathers and claws of birds, while still bearing human faces? Is it because you were numbered among the companions, when Proserpine gathered the flowers of Spring? When you had searched in vain for her on land, you wanted, then, to cross the waves on beating wings, so that the waters would also know of your trouble. The gods were willing, and suddenly you saw your limbs covered with golden plumage. But, so that your song, born, sweetly, in our ears, and your rich vocal gift, might not be lost with your tongues, each virgin face and human voice remained.

‘“Now Jupiter, intervening, between his brother and grieving sister, divides the turning year, equally. And now the goddess, Persephone, shared divinity of the two kingdoms, spends so many months with her mother, so many months with her husband. The aspect of her face and mind alters in a moment. Now the goddess’s looks are glad that even Dis could see were sad, a moment ago. Just as the sun, hidden, before, by clouds of rain, wins through and leaves the clouds.

Orphic Hymn 17 to Pluton

Pluto, magnanimous, whose realms profound are fix’d beneath the firm and solid ground, In the Tartarian plains remote from fight, and wrapt forever in the depths of night; Terrestrial Jove [Zeus Khthonios], thy sacred ear incline, and, pleas’d, accept thy mystic’s hymn divine. Earth’s keys to thee, illustrious king belong, its secret gates unlocking, deep and strong. ‘Tis thine, abundant annual fruits to bear, for needy mortals are thy constant care. To thee, great king, Avernus is assign’d, the seat of Gods, and basis of mankind. Thy throne is fix’d in Hade’s dismal plains, distant, unknown to rest, where darkness reigns; Where, destitute of breath, pale spectres dwell, in endless, dire, inexorable hell; And in dread Acheron, whose depths obscure, earth’s stable roots eternally secure. O mighty dæmon, whose decision dread, the future fate determines of the dead, With captive Proserpine [Kore], thro’ grassy plains, drawn in a four-yok’d car with loosen’d reins, Rapt o'er the deep, impell’d by love, you flew 'till Eleusina’s city rose to view; There, in a wond'rous cave obscure and deep, the sacred maid secure from search you keep, The cave of Atthis, whose wide gates display an entrance to the kingdoms void of day. Of unapparent works, thou art alone the dispensator, visible and known. O pow'r all-ruling, holy, honor’d light, thee sacred poets and their hymns delight: Propitious to thy mystic’s works incline, rejoicing come, for holy rites are thine.

Orphic Hymn 28 to Pluton

Daughter of Jove [Zeus], almighty and divine, come, blessed queen, and to these rites incline: Only-begotten, Pluto’s [Plouton’s] honor’d wife, O venerable Goddess, source of life: 'Tis thine in earth’s profundities to dwell, fast by the wide and dismal gates of hell: Jove’s [Zeus’] holy offspring, of a beauteous mien, fatal [Praxidike], with lovely locks, infernal queen: Source of the furies [Eumenides], whose blest frame proceeds from Jove’s [Zeus’] ineffable and secret seeds: Mother of Bacchus [Eubouleos], Sonorous, divine, and many-form’d, the parent of the vine: The dancing Hours [Horai] attend thee, essence bright, all-ruling virgin, bearing heav'nly light: Illustrious, horned, of a bounteous mind, alone desir’d by those of mortal kind. O, vernal queen, whom grassy plains delight, sweet to the smell, and pleasing to the sight: Whose holy form in budding fruits we view, Earth’s vig'rous offspring of a various hue: Espous’d in Autumn: life and death alone to wretched mortals from thy power is known: For thine the task according to thy will, life to produce, and all that lives to kill. Hear, blessed Goddess, send a rich increase of various fruits from earth, with lovely Peace; Send Health with gentle hand, and crown my life with blest abundance, free from noisy strife; Last in extreme old age the prey of Death, dismiss we willing to the realms beneath, To thy fair palace, and the blissful plains where happy spirits dwell, and Pluto [Plouton] reigns.

#miscellaneous tag tba.#❘❙❚ ┊ hades. character study ➳ ❛ knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom ❜

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 years ago

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Baby You Were My Picket Fence [Chapter 3: Light My Fire]

You are a first grade teacher in sunny Los Angeles, California. Ben Hardy is the father of your most challenging student. Things quickly get complicated in this unconventional love story.

Song inspiration: Miss Missing You by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing) HERE

Taglist: @blushingwueen @queen-turtle-boiii @everybodyplaythegame @onceuponadetectivedemigod @luvborhap @sincereleygmg @stormtrprinstilettos @loveandbeloved29 @ohtheseboysilove @jennyggggrrr @vanitysfairr @bramblesforbreakfast @radiob-l-a-hblah @xox-talia-xox @killer-queen-xo

You open the front door and there he is: black button-up shirt, navy jeans, chic but not overdressed. His hair is neatly gelled back from his forehead. In his arms are a lug wrench, a car jack, and a brand new tire wrapped in an oversized, floppy red bow like a Christmas present.

“I think normal guys bring flowers,” you comment.

“I figured...since you’re automotively illiterate and all...you probably hadn’t gotten around to replacing the spare yet.” He shoots a glance at your Elantra, then announces victoriously: “I was right!”

“Mr. Hardy...Ben...I really can’t allow you to perform any more free labor.”

“Five minutes,” he calls over his shoulder as he trots to your car. He has trouble with one of the lug nuts, so it takes him six and a half.

“You can come inside,” you tell him once he’s finished. “I won’t be long, I just have to water my plants.”

Ben raises an eyebrow. It’s dark and rather undomesticated, yet endearing. “I feel like there must be better stalling tactics than that. If you’ve got cold feet, I can handle rejection.” But what he can’t do is disguise the way his shoulders slump, the way he bites the corner of his lower lip apprehensively.

“No, really, it’s totally stupid, but I’m really trying not to kill this batch and if I don’t water them now I’m going to be stressing about it until I get home, and I don’t want to be thinking about houseplants all night, I want to be thinking about...” You wave your hand towards Ben inarticulately. “You know. You.”

He smiles, showing his teeth, his eyes lit up like embers, flickering and radiant and warm. “Take your time, Martha Stewart.”

“My parents give me so much hell for this,” you call back to him as you flutter around the living room, standing on your tiptoes and reaching around furniture to water your peace lilies and spider plants and devil’s ivy and one wilting ponytail palm. “They’re farmers. They’re professional life-givers. I’m lucky if I can keep the cactuses alive.”

You hear Ben rambling around the kitchen. “I hope your nurturing skills are at least marginally better with first graders.”

You laugh, nodding even though he can’t see you. “I’m alright with those. I’m just more of a rock person than a plant person. Gems and minerals and volcanic glass...fossils and bones and teeth...that’s where the magic is for me.”

“I can see that. Dinosaurs are well-represented in your extensive fridge magnet collection.” There are clicks and scrapes as he rearranges them: prehistoric animals and tiny planets, peace signs and alphabet letters and cross-sections of agate. “These are so cool!” he exclaims.

You bustle back into the kitchen, place your watering can in the sink, and wipe your hands with a dishtowel patterned with cartoon brontosauruses. “Ready?” Your eyes flick to the refrigerator. He’s organized your magnets into a giant smiley face. It’s ridiculous, it’s juvenile; but you feel this liberatingly simple joy flooding through you like early autumn air. And the way Ben’s grinning at you—a little mischievous, a little proud—reminds you so much of Eli that your breath catches in your throat. You have no idea who Eli’s mother was, but her genetics were omnipotent; it’s almost impossible to find any of Ben in him at all. But every once in a while there’s an unconscious gesture, an off-kilter smile, and suddenly you can see the common threads that wove them into being like spiders’ webs.

“Ready,” Ben agrees.

You smooth your dress as you slip into the passenger’s seat of his Lexus, placing your purse between your feet, checking your hair and makeup in the sun visor mirror. Ben glances over at you as he shifts the car into reverse and roars out of your driveway. Your hands aren’t shaking, your heartbeat is hushed, there’s no hot rushing blood in your cheeks or ears; this shocks you. It’s eerie how inexplicably at ease you are.

“Find something good,” he says, pointing to the radio.

You seize the dial. “Uh oh. My first test?”

He smiles, his eyes on the road now. “Choose something lame and I abandon you at the nearest sketchy-looking gas station.”

You flip through stations until you find Somebody To Love. “I work hard, every day of my life, I work ‘til I ache in my bones...” “Okay, how I’d do?”

Ben steals a suspicious peek over at you. “Are you fucking with me?”

“What?” you ask, bewildered. “No, why?”

He shakes his head. “Never mind. You definitely pass. You’re a Queen person?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely, I adore Queen. Most classic rock, actually.”

“So have you, uh...” He touches his chin thoughtfully, what you’re quickly realizing is a little nervous tic. It’s cute as hell. Goddammit, daddy demon, stop being so fucking perfect. “Did you ever see Bohemian Rhapsody?” But something gives you the impression he already knows you haven’t.

“Not yet,” you confess.

“Not interested?”

“It’s not that, I just...” You hesitate, trying to put it into words. “I know it did well and all. But I guess I’m skeptical of anyone trying to play Freddie Mercury. He was a legend, he was one of a kind. So are the rest of them. Those are massive shoes to fill. It seems like setting the actors up to pale in comparison.”

“I’ve heard it was pretty good,” Ben presses, almost teases.

“Yeah, maybe...”

“And Rami won the Oscar. So his portrayal must have been satisfactory.”

“Okay, oh my god, I’ll see it, are you happy now? Were you on the marketing team or what?”

You’re only half-serious, but Ben chuckles evasively. “So you like old rocks and old music,” he pivots. “But not old not-boyfriends. Except Jeff Goldblum.”

“This is news to me. I sincerely thought you were sixty.”

He laughs, a full gutsy laugh this time, a laugh that says he’s caught-off guard and thrilled about it. “That’s okay. I’m into old stuff too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Old music, classic rock, just like you. But old books too.”

“Gatsby?”

His eyebrows leap up; you’re watching his face as streetlamps illuminate the car in reiterating flashes like a spinning pulsar. God, he’s beautiful. “How’d you guess that?”

“Eli’s middle name is Fitzgerald. That’s not a common one.”

“Ah,” Ben says, and his full lips turn up at the edges into a smile, proudly, fondly.

“I really like it.” That’s the truth; Eli’s a handful and that’s a titanic understatement—though he has been better the last few days, the only blip on the upward trend being his attempt to convince Brayden to eat a live cricket by paying him in Oreos—but his name is classic and elegant and a few literary references here and there never hurt anyone.

“Yeah, that was me,” Ben reveals. “His mother insisted on choosing his first name, I think she heard Eli somewhere and just liked the sound of it. But she let me pick the middle name. And The Great Gatsby was always my favorite book...and The Beautiful and the Damned, and This Side of Paradise?! Freaking incredible. In my humble opinion F. Scott Fitzgerald is a certifiable genius. So...Eli Fitzgerald.” There’s a color in his voice you can’t quite read: the golden yellow of reminiscence, the murky blue of loss, the grey nothingness of depression, the bloody maroon of deep pain or resentment. Who was she, Ben? How did she hurt you? And could I ever fill those hollow places you’re carrying around like pocket change?

He asks how Eli is doing in class, and you tell him; you ask about his favorite classic rock bands, and he answers: Boston and AC/DC and The Stones and Queen. His Lexus cruises by your go-to dinner spots—the affordable chains like Noodles and Co. and Panera and Chipotle—then past the mid-level raw vegan and farm-to-table joints, and finally into the neighborhood reserved for fine dining establishments with three-figure price tags and reservations booked up months in advance.

“Uh...” you begin. “I don’t think we’re going to get a spot at a place down here.”

“Think again.” He parallel parks with absurd ease in front of an Italian-Japanese fusion restaurant called Nejire. There’s a line of people in suits and evening gowns waiting at the door. You feel like a minnow in a shark tank.

“Ben...”

He comes around to your side of the car, opens the door, and holds out his hand. “You trust me?”

Do I? You take his hand in yours like a life raft. “Don’t let me down, Mr. Hardy.”

Unpredictably, fantastically, he brings your knuckles to his lips. “You got it.”

He spirits you inside, past the line of waiting customers, past the hostess and waitresses; they glimpse up and nod at Ben as he draws you through the main dining room and back to a VIP table in a dimly-lit, quiet corner of the restaurant. Oh, you realize with awe and trepidation. He’s an important guy.

You take your seat and open a menu as waitresses array full glasses of water and wine across the table. There’s nothing under fifty dollars. You flip to the salad page, searching desperately.

“What are you doing?” Ben asks gently.

“Um, nothing, just browsing...”

“You’re not paying for any of this,” he says point-blankly.

“That’s not very feminist of you,” you quip, but on the inside you’re sinking. This is too much, this is way too much. I can’t let him do this for me.

“I’ll explain later. Trust me, we’re good. Order something expensive or I’ll do it for you.”

“I’m a teacher, Ben. My idea of luxury is Olive Garden.”

He grins at you boldly, almost roguishly. “Oh we are going to have so much fun together, Miss Y/L/N.”

Orders are placed, wine is sipped, appetizers are ferried to the table. As you nibble on ahi tuna tartare and caprese sushi, you find yourself lost in how Ben motions wildly with his hands as he tells stories, how his large emerald-or-jade-or-malachite eyes gleam when he’s animated, how his voice is so rich and deep and yet mild, how it suddenly feels like you’ve known him your entire life. Oh no. Oh no, I like this guy a LOT.

Ben abruptly stops eating and cracks his knuckles. “So there’s something I need to tell you. Since we’re...” Air quotes. “Not dating.”

Oh fuck. He’s married or something. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“It’s about my job.”

Whew. “Ah yes, your elusive profession. You can tell me the truth if you’re a dogwalker or a circus clown or something. It’s always nice to out-earn someone. Actually, dogwalkers in L.A. probably make more than me...”

“I’m an actor.”

“Oh,” you reply cautiously. “Like, for tv shows or independent films?”

“No,” he says, amused. “For major films.”

I knew he was too fucking gorgeous to be a normal person. What am I doing here? “Like what?”

“Well, recently, Bohemian Rhapsody.”

You choke on the white wine you’re drinking and cough and gasp into your cloth napkin.

“You okay?” Ben asks. “Don’t die. You can’t die yet. You haven’t tried their tempura crème brûlée.”

“You...” You cough once more. “You were in the movie that made $900 million dollars...?”

He grins toothily. “So you were keeping up with it!”

“It was hard to miss that tidbit. It was all over the news. BoRhap won the Golden Globe.” Your head is spinning. “You’re an actor,” you repeat.

“I played Roger Taylor.” The brilliant, obscenely good-looking drummer, the man who wrote Radio Ga Ga and These Are The Days Of Our Lives and A Kind Of Magic.

“Oh my god, Ben!”

“I mean, I’ve been in other things too—”

“Ben!”

“Look, relax, we’re cool. I’m not telling you this to freak you out, I’m just explaining that you don’t have to worry about dropping a few hundred bucks at dinner. You have a right to know who I am if we’re going to be...involved. And there’s something else.” He wrings his hands. “I have to be...discrete about my personal life. Try to stay under the radar.” But now that effortless comfort is strained somehow, weighted, ominous; Ben averts his eyes. There’s a presence in the room like a storm cloud, trapped pulsing lightening igniting the opacity from within.

“Sure,” you say, thinking that a life in the spotlight can’t always be easy. “Lowkey. I got it.”

“Awesome.” He’s relieved.

“I have to keep it on the down-low too. I’m a pretty important person myself. A bunch of six-year-olds would lose their minds if they knew about my extracurricular activities. They would color such scandalous pictures in art class. Premarital dinner dates, maybe even handholding. Yikes.”

That makes Ben chuckle; the shadow is nearly lifted. “Keep drinking, Miss Y/L/N. I’m loving this.”

And it should feel weird or frightening or wrong that he’s using the word love this soon, this casually; but it doesn’t at all. It feels anything but wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~

Your feet are on your kitchen floor, your palms empty. Ben’s fidgeting around, his hands in and out of his jean pockets; it seems like he’s trying to say goodbye, but maybe he’s not.

“So...” he ventures.

You wonder if he’ll touch you, if he’ll kiss you. You try to catch his eyes, but they’re everywhere except meeting yours. “Hold that thought.”

You dash down the hall to your bathroom to smooth your hair, touch up your makeup, swish some Listerine. On the way back to the kitchen, you stop in the living room to check on your plants. If it’s possible, they look a little perkier than they did when you left a few hours ago. You run your fingertips over the broad leaves of your peace lilies, smiling faintly to yourself. “Maybe we’re going to make it after all,” you whisper.

You hear the distinct clicking sound of iPhone texting. “Oh shit,” Ben mutters from the kitchen. “I’m sorry, I gotta go, Y/N, okay? I gotta run. But I’ll call you. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay, just a sec...” But by the time you rush into the kitchen to say goodbye, Ben is gone, the screen door swinging forlornly. Puzzled, you lock the door behind him as headlights flare to life in the driveway and swiftly retreat into the night. Then you turn around.

Your fridge magnets are rearranged again, this time in the shape of a heart.

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fic #borhap fic #borhap #baby you were my picket fence #bywmpf

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thechoir-roomhq · 4 years ago

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WELCOME TO THE CHOIR ROOM, TEDDY WILDE (brendan dooling fc),

here is your schedule! you have twenty-four hours to turn in your account and post an intro. good luck and have fun with the semester!

[BRENDAN DOOLING, MALE, HE/HIM] who’s that? oh it’s {TEDDY WILDE}. i hear they’re {16} and a {JUNIOR} at {WMHS}, and are part of {STUDENT COUNCIL (TREASURER), CELIBACY CLUB, PRESIDENT OF THE YEARBOOK COMMITTEE}. they’re known to be {AMBITIOUS, CHARISMATIC} and {CONTRARIAN, MANIPULATIVE}. some people say they remind them of {boat shoes, I voted stickers, the god’s not dead trilogy, & purity rings}. only one way to find out! [Taylor, 22, she/her, Est]

PLEASE LIST AT LEAST THREE DETAILED HEADCANONS BELOW

*Trigger warning for F slur in the 3rd bullet point.

Theodore Grayson Lynn was born into a humble upper-middle Christian family. He was from a small town in Ohio, which made him relatable to the Midwest working class farmers. He was from a humble upper-middle class Christian family which made him appealing to their stay-at-home wives. Everything with Teddy was about making himself appealing to the republican and swing vote. It’s partly why at the age of 9, Teddy announced at the dinner table that he was officially going to drop Lynn and go by Teddy Wilde. Name recognition was an important voting factor if he even wanted to stand a chance in the 2060 election, he insisted. While Ryder initially found the idea cute, as his youngest grew older it seemed to present more of a problem which has ultimately caused some of the earlier rifts in the family.

He had always been more of a mama’s boy anyway. Choosing to go shopping with his mother over playing soccer with his dad and brother. To Kitty, that seemed perfectly fine. He had always had a better sense of style than Benji and was a perfect doll for her to dress up since she didn’t have a daughter. Teddy just loved spending time with his mom; he even liked going to church with her every Sunday. There wasn’t anyone who he loved and respected more than his mother who had been through some dark episodes but never lost her faith. Kitty was the toughest, smartest, most headstrong woman he knew. In turn, she was his biggest supporter and way always encouraging him to pursue his dreams no matter how big the seemed. Always reminded him that through God anything was possible.

Teddy continued his pursuit of a political future with confidence that if anyone can reach that goal it would be him. He had always been an intelligent boy. His teachers encouraging him to skip a grade, even then he knew that being a politician meant his likability would suffer with voters who viewed him as an egghead. It was important to look like your average Joe while maintaining the respect of his peers and mentors. So when a classmate called him a fag in front of the whole class, he knew he needed a girlfriend. That’s when Fauna Fabray walked into his life like an angel descending from heaven. She was beautiful, smart, Christian…She reminded him of his mother. She was perfect. At recess, he bought her a ring pop and asked her to be his first lady. They’ve been dating ever since.

While Teddy may have lost his first campaign for student council, he is determined to win the next race. For now, he’s sitting comfortably as Treasurer. As much as the kids at school may not agree with his politics, it seemed that most of the school seemed to be socially liberal and fiscally conservative. It was a very interesting thing to note. Regardless, he knows doing good job is more important for now. Besides, Alexander Hamilton was secretary treasurer and brining that up with the glee kids next year would be a great way to get them to remember him when they hit the voting booth.

#accepted #submission

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narilgc · 5 years ago

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𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . . but i don’t regret the thing that i did !! hello all, i’ve been keeping this under wraps for the past few days but on a whim i’ve decided to bring on my second ( and last, i promise ) muse for the ride !! with that being said, it is jada here, max’s mun, but this time i’m presenting to you the wonderful im nari !! she was my initial idea before max, but i loved her too much to get rid of her !! i’m so excited for her to be here and i really hope she’s well received as well !! i’ve been slow on his acc for the past few days, and she’s the reason why, but now that i’ve gotten my life ( mostly ) together & things are running just fine again !! anyways, her profile’s here, and below you can find some general trivia on her as well as connection ideas !! oh, and like this to plot !

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 :

from damyang, south korea !! a v small agricultural town & was born into humble beginnings - a seamstress for a mom, and her dad a farmer !! so she lived on a small farm when she was younger and was raised with pigs, cows, and goats as pets !

she helped around the farm her whole time she lived home, so she has a lot of life skills t & knows all about caring for animals and tending the farm !

they weren’t well off by any means - they had a small income to spread thin between all those people - but they made it work !! she never felt truly slighted as she knew their situation, in fact in her own way, she was spoiled in the best way she could be given their predicament.

raised in a household full of boys - she’s the youngest w a family of 6 loud, rowdy boys.

so in a way she’s more of a tomboy, used to roughhousing and all her sibling’s antics !! she’s also used to doing a lot of heavy lifting around the farm so has surprising strength for her size.

on the other hand, being the youngest & only daughter has upped the girliness !! she’s used to being babied so knows all about acting cute & her mom was always using her as an experiment for all her clothes !! was raised on handmade dresses her mom made in all sorts of intricate patterns & loved it !!

has been an actress in the making for a g e s !!! it all started when she was a really young kid, her mom would let her watch the tv in the tailor shop so she’d have something to do while her mom was at work !!

so there was this drama “a rolling hills romance” ( which i TOTALLY made up lmao !! ) that she absolutely loooved !! it was about a farm romance and was one of the only ones she saw that wasn’t taking place in the city !! it just got her in love with acting in general though, she’d eventually memorize scenes from all the dramas she’d watch and recite them out of the blue !!!

eventually it got her into theatre acting, which was her favorite !! she started watching broadway shows from abroad, memorizing the songs even though she didn’t always know what they were saying. but she just loooved the whole thing, and when she was in middle school she joined her school’s theatre department !

this is where the majority of her english skills came into play - she would memorize the lyrics, and though she didn’t really know what they were saying after a while she began to understand some words !! so while her pronunciation is pretty good from mimicking actors, she lacks the vocab to really use it !!

so she’s really hesitant to speak in english, because if people hear her speak they think she’s a lot more fluent than she is & it lands her in awkward situations !! so she mainly just ... doesn’t do that lol !!

i can’t believe i forgot this when i first wrote this !! this is a very vital part of her character omg !! her first “acting debut” if you could call it that was for a chocolate commercial when she was 8 !! basically she was in this christmas commercial for peppermint chocolates that got on tv and everyone in her town went crazy !! she like goes and delivers these chocolates while singing jingle bells and it’s wholesome and cute and swet !! it wasn’t that big at all lol but for their small town it was, and to them she’s a sort of small celebrity for it !! i’m sure some people might remember the commercial but notlike .... her yk ?? because that was her first and last role for a while lol !!

anyways !! she’s always been self-conscious of her looks - she felt like she wasn’t pretty enough, and limited her confidence. so at 16 she got 2 part-time jobs to begin saving up money, and at 17 she went to seoul to get a nose job & jaw reduction surgery.

and things seemed to be great after that !! she was confident, gaining more friends, but the real excitement came when her mom read online about an audition for legacy and jokingly asked if she wanted to do it.

legacy had never even be on her radar !! she had always heard her friends talk about them for idols, but she had never thought of them as a company that accepted actresses. upon reading though, she was hooked !! she begged her parents, and they originally rejected the idea because they thought it was one of her phases. however, after much persuasion, they allowed her to attend auditions !!

she never expected to get in, she wanted to do it more as an experience than anything. but to say it was a shock was an understatement !! but she was so so incredibly happy.

had a hard time adjusting initially - she was only 17, and almost right after getting there she had to spend her birthday alone since she hadn’t made any friends yet. and although she’s naturally outgoing, it was really hard for her to be social at first because she was surrounded by so many more people than she was used to !!

for the past few years nari’s been doing general idol training, though that’s about to change !! she’s significantly improved her dance skills ( which were nearly nonexistent prior to training ) & gotten a lot better at her singing !! but her heart’s still deep into acting, and she knows that she wants to do that as well as some modeling !

she still suffers a lot with her self confidence, and there’s a lot of pressure for her to do well ! in school, because she’s the first of her family to go to university, and as a trainee, because she’s risked so much for it & doesn’t want to disappoint since her family has v high expectations for her !

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 :

a little lovebug !! she’s literally so loving and accepting of everyone - definitely, someone you can come to talk out any issues, she listens & provides support, free of any judgement !! also v keen on skinship i apologize in advance

she’s come out of her shell a lot since she got to seoul, but she’s still a little shy if she doesn’t know you well or is put in a situation w a lot of people !! pls be patient with her ^^

like max, she’s got a lot of energy in that little body !! but she actually has adhd so a lot of it isn’t really by choice. it frustrates her a lot because it limits her focus & has the tendency to make her restless. it was worse when she was younger, but has gotten better as she’s gotten older and she takes medicine to keep everything in check.

she’s also got v low self-confidence, she’s never been satisfied with herself and constantly wants to get better !! despite the surgeries, she’s still got a lot of insecurities both physically and not, but keeps them bottled up a lot bc she doesn’t want to burden others !! ( i want to shake her !! ) bc of that, she takes both criticism & compliments very seriously, she’ll turn all red if someone gives her the smallest compliment but will also overanalyze & judge herself if she gets critiqued.

in fact her surgery’s almost made her more self-conscious, as she now feels that all the opportunities granted to her are because of her looks post-surgery. the worst insult she could get was she’s only succeeding because of her looks, because she’s worked so hard on her skills and she wants them to be what takes her forward, not something she had to pay to get.

despite that, she’s the true definition of a happy virus !! on the outside, she’s almost always smiling, and when all the other stuff doesn’t get in the way, she is on the inside too !! always trying to look on the optimistic side & give people a fresh perspective !

on that note she’s v childish, and sometimes she has to remind herself w younger trainees coming in she’s being seen as more of an example and needs to be ~serious~!!

the duality is real !! in performances, sad / angry scenes are actually her specialty, and right after she’ll just spring up and smile like what’s up guys !!! a lil creepy when she goes from sobbing to giggling so she’s learned to transition a little better lmao !!

she always wanted to be a youtuber, but never got the chance, and by the time she joined legacy she wasn’t allowed to have an account. so now she has these little vlogs she does to send her parents ! they’re mainly of her getting ready, hanging out with friends, and practicing ( all out of training hours, ofc ) so she can often be found seemingly talking to herself, even though she’s really recording videos !!

though being an idol wasn’t her initial dream, she adores the music. her love for the kpop genre has made the last few years more bearable, and girl crush concepts are her absolute favorite !! she’s been religiously keeping up w future dreams like she’s still just a fan back at home, and you’ll catch her humming all around the company building !!

in fact, prior to joining legacy, she had a fan blog for all her faves where she would provide commentary called ri raves !! it was ... a sight !!

she’s pansexual, and leaning towards girls !! it’s something she’s really shy about sharing bc of the fear of judgment, but if she tells you know you have all her trust !!

a little spoiled tbh !! she’s got the youngest child syndrome BAD, and since she was the only girl she’s used to things being done for her !! not in the bratty way, it’s just made her a little lazy and she loooooves attention and being doted on.

don’t let her appearance fool you though !! she’s got surprising strength ... strong woman do bong soon’s not her favorite show for no reason !!! all those years of defending herself from her brothers’ teasing had to come in handy, you know ?? we’ve got a black belt in hapkido here folks !!

definition of a theatre kid, starts bursting out into songs she loves out of nowhere omg it’s embarrassing ?? also overreacts about everything omg the world is on fire according to her !! she’s gotta faint dramatically !!!

she’s got the jeolla-do dialect, and prior to working on her standard dialect it was veeery prominent ! it makes her say a lot of words differently than someone from seoul might, and after realizing she was one of the only ones with it she’s been trying to make her speech sound more like standard korean nowadays.

she’s taken up sewing from her mom, and especially loves embroidery !! so she always loves upcycling & spicing her outfits up !!

definitely has a unique fashion sense because of it - in addition to that she’s very frugal, and favors thrifted clothing !! she’s got a mix of vintage, chic, and artsy style !

a rule follower !! veeery unlike max, she tends to stick to the rules out of fear of what will happen if she doesn’t, because she has way too much on the line to quit now !

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 :

acting buddies ?? i know there aren’t too many, but even if that’s not your muse’s preferred career path, any muses who have a passion for theatre are welcomed as well !!

someone who unlike her, is v wild and lives on the crazier side !! she’s constantly going into a responsible panic when they’re around and they’re always trying to get her to loosen up !!

someone who co-stars in her little vlogs to her family !! hey, if you can’t be youtubers for real you might as well pretend, right ??

someone who made her adjustment to seoul easier as she transitioned from country to city life !! they’ve lived in seoul for a long time / their whole life and know all the best spots to show her !!

someone who’s clothing she likes to spice up, she’s always embroidering or adding pattern to their clothes to give their outfit a little flair !

someone who knows her past her happy side, who she’s got on speed dial whenever she’s feeling down and needs someone to talk to, and vice versa !!

someone who she came out too, be it on purpose or by accident, and it’s caused her to grow really attached to them bc it’s one of the most personal things about her !

a girl she’s got a crush on but is terrified to tell !!! like yes you’re pretty .... but these things are never easy !!! she’s gonna tell you .... eventually !!

and ofc - exes, flirtationships, summer loves, anything of the sort !

someone she lowkey fangirls over ?? she still hasn’t accepted the fact that she & the other trainees are kinda on the same level, someone she’s kind of became a fan of and can’t really function around them ??

by some crazy chance, this person has come across her old kpop fan blog at one time or another and won’t !!! let !!! her !!! live !!! it !!! down !!! will you accept her bribe and swear to never bring it up again ??? please ???

someone she doesn’t like ??? this is v rare but ... for one reason or another, she can’t stand them and transforms to a completely diff person around them !!

someone who made the mistake of teasing her a little too much or insulted her so much that she just straight-up tries to take them down !!! v unexpectedly !! bonus if it’s someone way out of her fighting capabilities !!

more ideas coming when i create an official plots page !!

#( nari & mun ! )#so late ... i apologize o.o #i will rb tomm !!#& i will be getting to all your lovely mssgs ty !!

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deliciousscaloppine · 5 years ago

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Like mad. Like mad. Okay. How crack do we want these harem prompts, because I kind of want to ask for either of the Wen Brothers (Wen Xu or Wen Chao) and 16. Then for the ladies mianmian and 20?

Note: I am going to put the other prompt in a separate post tagged QINGHE HAREM STORIES

20 FOR QUEEN MIANMIAN WHO SAYS ALL THREE: You leave the safety of your family’s home and go brave the dangers and adventures of the world. What do you seek - Love, Self-Fulfillment or Glory?

Once upon a time there was a little girl. A little powerful girl that could crack bricks with her tiny little fist. Her father – the one who discovered that fantastic ability of hers – happened to be a brickmaker. Her mother was but a humble garden-farmer, but she garden-farmed well and often the Luo's found themselves with a surplus of fresh vegetables and herbs.

So when the rain prevented her father's bricks from drying, but watered her mother's vegetables, and they grew in excess Father Luo would take his little girl to the market so that the two of them could sell ginger and watercress! To attract customers, little Luo would stand on the counter and smash bricks with her hand.

“Buy watercress from the little girl with the iron arm!” they would call out together and return home at night with their pockets filled with coin.

But little Luo, let's call her Mianmian, dreamt of a far more glamorous life. She had seen them after all in the marketplace; all those taoist cultivators, big and small running around dressed in the finest gowns, brandishing splendid swords going anywhere they wanted, eating whatever they wanted with their purses perpetually filled, and their hair glossy and silky, their perfect skin.

“Mianmian!” her father would say to her. “Look at me. I am but a humble brickmaker. My father when I was young laughed at me. He would say what a sunny job! Let's see what you will do when it rains! So I married a girl that could farm, and when it rains I eat my watercress soup and say thank you! Life is hard, don't seek to make it even harder!”

But little Mianmian would not give up on her dream. She smashed bricks harder than ever before until one day a lady cultivator approached her. She was short, and old, and resembled a nun, but the sword at her side revealed her wilder side.

“My, my!” she said. “In all of Tanzhou I don't think there is a stronger girl! Pray tell what is your name!”

“Ah, Florist lady, this one is not that strong. It's the bricks that are badly made!” her father laughed, because he feared his little girl would suddenly go away.

“As if!” Luo Qingyang screamed and smashed a brick on her face.

“AAA!” everyone in the market screamed in terror. “What did you do that for?”

“If I can't be a cultivator, I'd rather be nothing at all!” Luo Qingyang cried and rubbed the bump on her head.

“My, my, what a strongheaded girl” Lady Florist said.

And so even though little Luo's dad didn't want to see her let go, he had to at least let her visit Lady Florist in her mansion to practice the sword. Little Mianmian grew up to be a talented swordswoman. Balanced and strong, stubborn and kind. But still she craved many things the people around her did not understand.

“Mianmian, you can't always rely on the sun!” her father would mournfully say.

“I grew all I could, when will the nice things happen to me?!” She would ask her master.

“Nice things? What do you mean?”

“The really nice clothes! The travelling! The praises! The big mansion by the sea!” Mianmian explained.

“Oh well, for these things you have to get lucky! Or attach yourself to some noble lord. I can write you a letter of recommendation if you want.” Lady Florist said.

They pored over for hours together trying to find a suitable clan. “The Qinghe Nie are too far away, and they are not very big on praises.” Lady Florist said. “The Yunmeng Jian can be said to have the bestest fashions, but don't count on getting your own house in service of them. They were rangers once. The Gusu Lan definitely travel, they are very popular when it comes to exorcising ghosts in far off lands – but you have to wake up at five in the morning every day and I am not sure you can do that.”

Then after several hours Lady Florist said: “Well, how about the Lanling Jin, most of them are for show anyway, a true swordswoman like yourself will become quite famous in their midst! And when it comes to material needs, there is not a thing they can't afford. Whether its bribes or payments you will surely amass a little fortune of your own.”

Mianmian was enthused! She packed her mother's famous watercress soup, and all her things, along with the sword Lady Florist gifted her, and bid her teary eyed parents farewell.

“Mianmian!” her mother took her aside and said. “I knew from a young girl what it was that I wanted to do! I wanted to farm and cook. So I found a good steady man who couldn't always depend on the sun to take care of you. So when the time comes and you find yourself craving a little Mianmian of your own, find a good steady man who'll shed tears when he sees her grow up.”

Mianmian set off, and she was admitted alright to the biggest, most prosperous clan. For years she wanted for nothing, she made many friends, saw many places, earned lots of money...and then came the day you could no longer depend on the sun.

Because that sun had grown so big, and so mean that it threatened to burn all the land.

So she fought along many great cultivators and all of them together managed to bring down that evil sun. But all was not right, and all was not well, Mianmian began to think. The things she had once went after, didn't mean anything. It didn't matter how well someone was dressed if they were evil and mean.

And it didn't mean anything to travel all these lands if one couldn't learn a single new thing. Praises were empty and dangerous, and friends were not always very honest beings. As for big mansions at exotic locations, well was it worth it to isolate yourself from others, to live in luxury you and your own while in the world so many innocent people suffered for others' sins?

Without ever noticing she had outgrew those selfish needs that moved others to slander and kill. So one very sunny day, when she could not bear it anymore, she shed the fine clothes that set her apart, she left behind the exotic palace and all those who knew her, and took with her only what she had learned.

She walked for many days, and fought many monsters, doing noble deeds wherever they were needed, until she felt something like nostalgia for her mother's watercress soup. So once more her feet took her to what she most wanted in the world.

Her parents greeted her with tears in their eyes and asked to know what she had done with her time. Then after a while her mother said: “A cottage is up for sale at the end of the road. We can help you with the downpayment if you want. It's quite the nice place, there's even quite some space to install a chicken coop.”

“Ugh!” Luo Qingyang thought. “These guys don't get it!”

But she ate her soup and warmed her feet by the hearth. She even changed in those comfy pyjamas with her mother's needlework. And after a night's good rest she realized “If only there was someone to do these things for me, so when I come home from hunting monsters there is someone to take care of me!”

But these things were not mere transactions. Her parents loved her that's why they gave her everything...She bought that cottage after all, because it's always good to own some estate when there is a chance you will remain all alone in the world. And out she went at nights to hunt monsters again, because that was all she really knew how to do.

Luo Qingyang one morning was returning from such a night hunt, when her father's frivolous sun decided to hide behind some clouds and give its place to her mother's constant rain. She had no umbrella and was getting thoroughly soaked when a merchant invited her under his stall.

“It's pouring alright!” he said, and gave her some hot tea. “Are you perhaps a cultivator? I've seen you often travel this road to hunt monsters.” he said when he saw her sword.

“Yeah, I am sort of a hero of the Sunshot Campaign if you must know.”

“Wow!” he said stunned. “What's that like!”

“It's tough work. Being a cultivator is not at all all it's cracked up to be. The monster slaying part is easy, but getting what you want is tough. You might find yourself often without a person to turn when it's raining the most. And more often than not it's you that doesn't know what you want.”

“That sucks” the merchant said and remained silent, until the clouds parted again and the sun shone on them.

“Wait a minute!” the merchant said when she got up to leave. “Please, have this cape, you'll catch a cold if you walk all the way home in these wet clothes.”

She took out her purse to pay him, when he stopped her as well. “Please, have it as a gift! If it weren't for you our roads would be infested with monsters and no one would buy anything from me.”

“Cool, thanks!” Mianmian said and felt suddenly appreciated. “I live over there at the end of the road, I have a cottage of my own. You should drop by sometime! We'll make tea, I'll tell you all about moster hunting, the war!”

“Really?” the merchant awestruck said. “I'd love to!”

They waved hands and parted ways and Mianmian thought: “It's good to have it all.”

#luo qingyang #mianmian #the untamed fic #the untamed #the untamed prompts

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queenofcats17 · 5 years ago

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If you may recall, I once asked what a BATIM-Cuphead genre swap would be like. You did have an idea for a BATIM version of Cuphead, but what about the other way around? (Assume there are no BATIM characters in the latter)

Hmm...Let’s see...

I wouldn’t want it to take place in an animation studio since that’s so integral to BATIM’s plot. So I think Cuphead in the style of BATIM would take place in an abandoned casino.

I think it would follow a similar structure of defeating bosses, but it would have the BATIM thing of delving deeper and deeper into the place they’re trapped. Instead of venturing deeper into an animation studio, it’s going deeper into an impossibly massive casino.

Like BATIM, this is gonna be pretty heavy on the body horror. I understand that you don’t really like that, but I think it would fit here.

The casino was once owned by King Dice (not his real name), and there are rumors that he made a deal with the Devil to ensure the success of his casino. It went out business years ago, although no one knows why. Cuphead and Mugman sneak in to satisfy their own curiosity and, in Cuphead’s case, get a thrill. Obviously, their names wouldn’t actually be Cuphead and Mugman, but...Well, they’ll be referred to that way.

So, Cuphead and Mugman sneak in and find the main lobby of the casino empty. It’s covered in dust and it doesn’t look like anyone’s been there for years. Cuphead immediately heads for Dice’s office, with Mugman trailing behind him. When they get to the office, they find it’s not empty. A man they recognize as Dice is seated at the desk, while another stands behind him, one hand on Dice’s chair. Dice greets the brothers warmly, asking what brings them to his humble casino. Both brothers find themselves unable to speak as Dice continues.

He tells them that he’s had a bit of trouble as of late with some of the casino patrons. They’ve been causing a ruckus and he needs someone to set them straight. He can’t do it himself because he has other things he needs to do.

“How’d you boys like a job?” The man behind Dice asks, and his voice sends shivers down Cuphead and Mugman’s spines. He pulls out two contracts from his huge fur coat, holding them out. Cuphead speaks for the two of them, trying to cover his fear with bravado by saying they’d be happy to do the job.

Mugman tries to stop his brother, but it’s too late. Cuphead is already signing the contract and Mugman’s hand is moving on its own, signing the contract too. Once the contracts are signed, they began to glow, and the man in the fur coat reveals himself to be the Devil. And since the brothers signed the contracts, their souls now belong to him.

With a snap of his fingers, the Devil transforms them into something resembling their Cuphead selves, (They’d previously been human) and it’s revealed that Dice looks like his Cuphead counterpart as well. Dice says that if the brothers don’t collect the boss’ souls, they’ll be stuck like this forever and added to the collection of souls trapped in the casino. The brothers are then booted out to take care of the bosses.

I think the bosses would still be grouped similarly to how they are in the original game. Like, each floor would have a collection of bosses that Cuphead and Mugman would need to defeat. To add to the survival horror element, perhaps certain bosses require certain items to defeat them and the brothers have to find the items on the floor before they can take down the boss. I figure each boss would be confined to their own room.

Each boss is someone who has sold their soul to the Devil at some point or another.

Here’s what I envision for each of the bosses.

Floor 1

The Root Pack: The three of them still look mostly human, but vegetables are growing out of their bodies like tumors. It looks as though their respective vegetables are trying to take them over. They’re dressed like farmers, although their clothes are ripped and torn by the vegetables. Like in the original Cuphead, their attacks involve sending vegetables after the brothers. The vegetables crawl after the brothers, screaming in pain as they do. The Root Pack can be defeated by burning them, using kerosene and matches found in the hallway. Their room is filled with dirt and vegetables.

Goopy Le Grande: He’s humanoid, but made entirely of blue goo. His body is constantly dripping, revealing the skeleton underneath. He’s not wearing any clothes, but it’s not like he has genitals or anything. He attacks by stretching parts of his goo body and trying to smash the brothers. I can’t think of how he’d be defeated, but I’d think it would involve removing his bones from the goo and destroying them. His room resembles a large boxing ring.

Ribby and Croaks: They look like some horrifying mix of human and frog. They wear their boxing gear from the original game. They fight like boxers, punching at the brothers and chasing them around the room. Their movements are just a little too frog-like to look natural. Their room resembles a bar, like the area you fight them in in the original game.

Hilda Berg: She resembles a broken automaton, clockwork visible through the broken skin. Her room is larger than the others on the floor and much darker, illuminated by simulated stars on the ceiling. She does fly around and the brothers have to shoot her down and attack her from there. The more she’s attacked, the more her body breaks apart and the less human she appears.

Cagney Carnation: Similar to the Root Pack, he still looks mostly human, although instead of vegetables growing out of his body he had flowers and vines. Like the Root Pack, he too can be dispatched by burning. His room is a lot like the Root Pack’s in that it’s filled with dirt. But his has giant creeping roots and vines all over.

Floor 2

Baroness Von Bon Bon: She looks pretty much like she does in the original game with the exception that she holds her head in her hand. Her stump of a neck is constantly bleeding and she cries blood. Her area is similar to the original game in the sense that there’s candy everywhere. But here, the candy is broken and dirty. The way to defeat her is the destroy her head. She attacks with a shotgun or by sending rotting and broken candies after the brothers.

Djimmi the Great: His area looks like the inside of a pyramid and is literally covered in sand. Djimmi himself looks like a red cloud of smoke wrapped in rags and is rather hard to hit. He summons a lot of other enemies like in the original game. I think to defeat him you’d have to suck him into his lamp or something.

Beppi the Clown: It probably wouldn’t be that hard to make Beppi scary. I’d still want him to be made out of balloons, though, because it would be cool if he was defeated by popping him. His room looks like a run-down carnival or circus big top. He attacks by sending balloon animals and sentient amusement park rides after the brothers.

Wally Warbles: I’m honestly not sure how to make Wally terrifying. Maybe a huge sickly bird still halfway stuck in a birdhouse? Maybe he’s still trying to protect his son. His room would probably look like a nest. He’d attack by pecking at the brothers and swiping at them with his wings.

Grim Matchstick: He’s just a huge dragon. Because I love dragons and imagine how terrifying it would be to have to face a dragon when you’re like 12 and have been through everything the brothers have. To make this even sadder, the whole time they’re fighting, Grim is begging for mercy. He just wants to be left alone. But the brothers need to collect his soul to be freed.

Floor 3

Rumor Honeybottoms: Her room looks like a hive, covered in honey and swarming with giant bees. Giant realistic-looking bees. Rumor herself is a mix of bee and human features. Meaning parts of her are human and parts of her are bee. It’s not blended at all. Makes me shudder just thinking about it. The honey everywhere makes it hard for the brothers to move, which makes it easier for the huge bees to attack them.

Captain Brineybeard: I think it would be cool if he looked like the zombie pirates from Pirates Of The Carribean. His room looks a lot like the deck of a ship and is a good deal smaller than other rooms. Not a lot of room to run and/or hide. The brothers get swords to attack him with.

Cala Maria: Her room looks like a beach. When the brothers enter, she has her back to them as she cries on the sand. She looks normal from the back, but when they get closer, she turns around to reveal that she basically looks like a mix of Medusa and a very scary mermaid. Lots of sharp needle teeth, snakes for hair, slimy skin, and way too big eyes that look more suited to seeing in the darkness of the deep sea. The brothers have to avoid looking at her because she’ll turn them to stone. It would be cool if the brothers reflected her petrifying gaze back on her and broke her apart when she turned to stone.

Floor 4

Dr. Kahl’s Robot: A horrifying mix of machine and flesh so integrated it’s unclear whether he was first a machine or a man. He begs for death while the brothers are fighting him, his voice a mix of a mechanical voice box and a human voice. His area is a junkyard like in the original game, filled with trash and machine parts. He shoots lasers and stuff out of one of his arms as his body moves against his will to kill them.

Werner Werman: His room looks like a WWI trench and he looks like a WWI soldier. The brothers have to dodge constant gunfire from all directions as they attempt to make their way to Werner. Werner acts like there’s a war going on, thinking the brothers are enemy soldiers. He thanks them when they finally kill him.

Sally Stageplay: She looks like her game counterpart, except that she’s noticeably more bloody and disheveled, and she’s on strings. She’s puppeted around by some unseen force in the ceiling. I imagine her fight would be similar in that she’s performing a play in a theater. The brothers need to cut her strings to defeat her.

The Phantom Express isn’t a boss. They arrive to take the brothers to the bottom floor of the casino. They all look like living corpses who don’t talk much to the brothers.

(Sidenote, every time the brothers ‘die’, it gets harder for them to remember their human lives and more of their bodies turns into porcelain.)

Final floor

After beating all the bosses, Cuphead and Mugman reach the bottom of the casino, where Dice and the Devil are waiting for them. Dice commends them on a job well done and the brothers demand to be returned to normal. The Devil first demands the souls. The brothers refuse to hand over the souls until they’re returned to normal.

The Devil is frustrated by this and tells Dice to take care of it before vanishing. Which leads to the brothers fighting him and his casino mini-bosses. Some of the bosses would be scarier if they were humanized a bit. Like Pip and Dot could be sewn together. Mangosteen alone is nightmare fuel. Leave him how he is.

Upon defeating Dice, the brothers then have to go up against the Devil. I don’t think you’d have to do much work to make that boss fight scary. It’s already scary.

The brothers do eventually defeat him, forcing him to burn their contracts and release them. They then release the souls of those trapped in the casino and leave, vowing to never try something like this ever again.

It’s getting late and I ran out of steam near the end, but I hope you like it! :D

#cuphead #cuphead genre swap #body horror tw #violence tw #gore tw #blood w

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depressed-chicken-man · 5 years ago

Text

Cooped Up

Shane x OC

CH1 CH2 CH3 CH4 CH5

Summary:

After failing to start her dream in the city, the fashion designer turned farmer tries to cope with her new life in the last-ditch effort to make a happy home for herself. She has so many concerns for her new life. How much of her identity is stuck in the city? Will she even make a difference?

Even if she doesn’t think so, it’s undeniable that she will make a difference for a certain depressed coop keeper.

Chapter 5: Flower Dance

Chapter 5 on Ao3

“Honestly, I think I like this slight tan on you. You’re as stunning as always and the pink peonies were definitely the way to go. You look sickening.” His sing-song voice complimented as he weaved the fresh flowers into her caramel blonde hair. He dropped the braid and pulled it apart, spraying a generous amount of instant freeze hairspray, the smell mingled with the aroma of the caramel latte he brought her.

“Thanks, Brad,” she said, taking a deep gulp of the latte, savoring the flavor she had missed for so long. She hadn’t had good coffee like this since she arrived in the town and after over a month, it felt like heaven. It felt like home.

The past few weeks had gone by and her farm was still intact by some miracle. The parsnips she had planted were growing and with her excitement taking hold, she planted a lot more crops while the season was still in full swing. Her chicks, on the other hand, were something she had gotten more used to. To put it lightly, she could bear to feed them. Whenever she tried to pet them, they would chirp and bounce over to her. She was still uneasy and didn’t want to pick them up, but she found that ruffling the soft yellow down feathers wasn’t so bad.

She cringed to think of what would happen when they grow older. Larger claws and more anger, she guessed. For now, she was content and had even named a few. Stinky was her favorite chick, but Abe Lincoln was growing on her.

The bathroom door swung open and Haley bounced in, her already completed half up half down hair style was finished and her eyeshadow sparkled in the warm light of the bathroom mirror. She tapped her foot and looked at her phone.

“Are you finishing up? I wanna get there early to practice my dancing and get a few solo shots. You’ll practice with me, won’t you?” she asked, her voice carried her words swift. Jennifer sighed and looked to Brad, who tsked and held a mirror behind her. As usual, the style was perfect and looked picturesque. She admired Brad’s skill and she was stunned by how much he had improved since he insisted on doing her hair in highschool.

“Uh-huh,” Jen responded, admiring her braid and the placement of the pink blossoms. “I’ll definitely need to practice. Maybe we can get a picture under the cherry blossom tree?”

“That would be lovely. I’m no professional, but I can take the photo so you can get the whole group.” Brad offered, pulling the mirror up to his own face as he flicked at his own hair. The white-blonde style was always cut and crisp. Catching Brad looking messy was a rare sight and usually meant he was either way past his drinking limit or upset.

“That’s perfect.” Haley exclaimed, clapping her hands together. She had gotten glitter on her fingers from her dress and heels, the brilliant white made her look as if she were going to walk down the aisle.

Jennifer stood from the kitchen chair that they had to bring in and smoothed out the light blue ballroom style gown that Brad had brought for her. Truly, he was her savior most of the time when he wasn’t getting her into trouble.

Taking the cue, Haley, led both her and Brad from the restroom and began to gather her camera and such for the day. She and Brad waited and she inspected her whole look, smiling to herself.

“Oh Jen, you’re going to have to visit me every month. I can’t let you fall out of touch just because you have this farm. Besides, those stick on nails are no luxury for you. Don’t let this farming gig make a manicurist weep.” he said and bumped her chin up with his knuckle. “You’re better than that so take care of yourself okay?” he said with a smile, but she knew he was concerned.

This was one of the things she had tried not to let slip away from her, something that was as much a part of her as her skin was. She couldn’t let anything mess with her appearance or her style. Yes, she was going to pull weeds and look stunning doing it. She owed that to herself and her friends. It was what set her apart and she was determined to keep it up until she was too old to stand.

“Yes, stick on nails aren’t my style.”

His fingers twitched, desperately resisting the urge to pull the flask from his suit pocket. No, instead, he had a wet wipe in hand and was looking around in the sea of white dresses and blue pantsuits.

Shane didn’t know what he was doing dressed up and he swore he would never, ever come to this dance without the intention of grabbing a plate of free food and leaving immediately. He didn’t know how he was convinced to have a clean shave so early in the morning and fix his hair with gel that he hadn’t touched in years. He had no clue as to how one little girl could bat her eyes and tug at his leg and make him come out, dressed and polished, which he almost forgot how to do.

Yet, here he was.

And the little girl responsible was running around excitedly, covered in a chocolate cupcake that she was offered. Jas had not shut up about the Flower Dance in weeks and he half blamed Marnie for showing her an abundance of period dramas set in the victorian era. Tea parties, dances, and writing with a dip pen were on Jas’s mind and she wouldn’t let up. If all he could do was dress her up and bring her to a useless town dance, then he hoped she would be content with it. Hell, he hoped giving her a chicken feather as a makeshift quill pen would be enough but she had gotten upset with how bad it was at writing. Maybe this would make up for it.

With each second that he scanned the small but surprisingly dense crowd of dresses, he felt more and more inclined to pull that flask out. He wasn’t sure if it was for the best, but he soon spotted her standing next to a familiar blonde farmer.

Her blue, flowing dress almost brushed the grass and her hair was braided with some kind of pink flower. The petals had begun to fall from the flowers and were caught in her hair and gripped the back of her low cut dress.

She was as pretty as usual and perhaps now even more unapproachable. He didn’t want to say that he had taken a liking ot her, but she wasn’t as unbearable to be around as before. Every so often, she would come into the saloon, order a pizza, and then bring him half. The first few times, he had told her to get lost and to stop, but she never listened. She would simply ignore him, slide the plate to him, and tell him to have a good evening before she would leave. He had gotten to the point that he would no longer argue and just accepted that she would never learn to leave him alone.

Instead of telling her to get lost, he would mutter a thanks and she would be off. It didn’t matter, the result was the same. She would still give him pizza and she would still leave immediately afterward. He wondered if it was the thought of bothering him that had her leave promptly, but the smarter half of him knew that it was probably pity. She would give him pizza to “help him” as some kind of meaningless charity, and then when she felt better about her good deed of the day, she would leave. She didn’t want to talk to him and she didn’t want to stay.

Besides, there was no telling what her new buddies had shared about him. She probably knew better than to place hope in him at this point.

Mentally steeling himself, he trudged over to were Jas was happily talking to her, her sugar rush giving her a surge of friendliness. Her grin was punctuated with chocolate icing like dimples.

“You look just like a princess! I wanna look like you when I grow up!” Jas giggled and swayed from side to side, her hands clasped in front of her. He flower crown hung loosely and threatened to fall to the grass.

“Like me? I’m no princess. You’re the one with the crown, miss thing!” she said in mock shock, her hand placed humbly over her heart as if taken back by the child’s beauty.

“My uncle is going to dance with me! Are you dancing with anyone?” She asked, and Jennifer nodded.

“Your uncle? How nice!” She gave and pointed over to Haley, who was practicing her footwork a few feet away. “My friend there is going to show me how to dance. I’m not any good, but I’m sure you’re great!” she said and Jas beamed.

“Oh, I can show you, miss. I watched a docu-documemory about it!”Jas bragged and reached for Jennifer’s pristine, blue skirt, her chocolate covered fingers promising a stain. He didn’t want to be responsible for that argument.

“Woah there, pumpkin!” he interjected, reaching down in the knick of time to capture her hand. Jennifer jumped a bit in surprise, surely not expecting someone to swing in and grab the child she was talking to. He ignored her and wiped the chocolate from Jas’s fingers clumsily.

“Uncle Shane!” she whined and gave a looked of disgust when he leaned down to wipe her face with the scented wet wipe.

“Just a second, kiddo. Can’t be messing up the lady’s dress.” He explained and Jas gave a look of realization at her now clean hand, as if she hadn’t thought of the possibility of getting anything dirty. A small voice shouted out about something in the background and Jas’s eyes lit up as she looked around the clearing.

“Vincent is here! Please let me go, dear sir!” she pleaded, taking the language from her period dramas. He sighed and studied his clean up job. Good enough. He released his loose grip on her arm.

“Alright, but no more cupcakes. I don’t want you getting-” and she was already gone. He straightened up “-sick…” He stood in silence for a moment and only realized that Jennifer was still watching when she spoke up.

“What a cutie pie. Looks like you have your hands full.” She joked and then gestured at him. “I hardly recognized you, all cleaned up.” She admitted.

He shrugged and looked at the ground, pulling at his sleeve.

“Yeah… She wanted a dance partner for the dance and I couldn’t say no. She’s a handful but she’s a cute little squirt.” He said and paused. Why was he telling her that? Before the blonde could respond, a white haired, froo-froo looking guy in a ritzy tracksuit bounced up and pulled at her bare shoulder.

“Jen, picture time! Let’s go!” he sung and the dark blonde gave Shane a quick look.

“I’m sorry. I have to go. Have fun with the little one, uncle Shane!” she dismissed and was gone in a few seconds. He looked at his feet and mentally cursed himself. Why did he try to talk to her? It wasn’t as if he was going to be her friend and it certainly wasn’t like he wanted to hang around her.

No, the sooner she was gone, the better.

Shane was sure she knew that and that she would go back to the city where she belonged. She didn’t belong here and her farm was a joke. Besides, she didn’t even fit in and even now that was apparent. Her dress was blue when it was supposed to be white.

Closing his eyes, he turned back and looked around for Jas. She was with Vincent, who was holding up a cricket that he found in the grass. Jas wasn’t scared of the bug and leaned in the get a closer look, her eyes wide. A better time than ever to mess around with her.

“Scared of that little cricket?” he asked and she shook her head. Vincent gave Shane a smile. He was a well-behaved kid and he was glad that Jas had him to play with.

“Nope! A lady is never scared!” she proclaimed, mocking a british accent like in the dramas. Shane crouched down and pointed at the cricket.

“You’re not scared of this thing? For real?” he asked, and she once again shook her head, this time accompanied by crossed arms.

“You should be,” he began, making it up as he went, “These crickets are even more mean to little girls who aren’t afraid. They get ya when you don’t expect it.” Jas dropped her guard and gave a wary look at the cricket, Vincent had resorted to holding it farther from him.

“No they don’t. You’re just messing with me like last time, right?” she half asked, her disbelief waned. Shane stood back up and gave her a short laugh.

“Right, kiddo. Just messing with ya.”

She giggled in response and was gestured away by Vincent, who wanted to show her something. Shane looked over to the table that gleamed like a beacon to him. It was covered in casserole dishes and plates of sweets and finger foods.

Making himself comfortable, he made his way over to it and began to fix himself a plate, ignoring what he was certain was a glare from a passerby that he hadn’t bothered to look up at. Plate in hand, he looked over his shoulder into the mass of practicing dancers and onlookers. He wasn’t sure what had made him curious.

Practicing in the far corner, Haley and Jennifer held each other close, their dressing swaying with each step. They both adorned smiles and their lips moved with words that he couldn’t hear as Jennifer stumbled a bit.

His mood soured, and instead of being drawn to his plate, his hand quickly found the flask tucked away in his pocket.

CH1 CH2 CH3 CH4 CH5

#sdv shane #sdv shane fanfic #sdv shane x oc #sdv fanfic #stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley shane

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jacquiesims · 5 years ago

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Viper Canyon - Chapter Two

“Then by the power vested in me by the Church of the Watcher, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

December 1851

The sky was wonderfully blue and clear on that fine winter morning. Exciting things were happening in Viper Canyon and the entire town had arrived at the church bright and early, eager to get on with the celebration.

The church bell rang loudly over the canyon, filling the air with joyous sound.

“Thank you for joining us today for this joyous occasion under the loving eyes of The Watcher.”

Reverend Piggott’s voice was loud and clear through the church. He was a funny looking man to be sure, but his devotion to the Church of the Watcher was admirable and gained the respect of those in his congregation.

“We are here today to celebrate the union of these two souls – Verity Anne Langford and Joseph Benjamin Ebey – in holy matrimony.”

Beatrice and Winnie were delightfully surprised when Verity asked them to be her bridesmaids. ‘Oh, it would be such a shame to get married and not have you beautiful young ladies up at the altar with me…’ she reasoned. Privately, both girls thought no one in a hundred-mile radius could hold a candle to Verity’s beauty, but they were flattered all the same.

They would have all liked to wear new dresses for the ceremony but without a proper dressmaker in town it was impractical to attempt to get three fine gowns done in time.

Winnie and Beatrice were merely happy to have the chance to wear their best gowns from back home again – it reminded them of attending the parties and balls they were once used to.

Peter Langford, the boy who had traveled with his mother and the Hawkins family on their journey, had his blue eyes trained on the girls across the room.

He was brimming with boyish excitement, as well, honored to be a groomsman and even happier to be one alongside Beatrice and Winnie. There were no other girls their age in Viper Canyon, after all, and Peter was having a tough time trying to decide which of the two was the prettier sister – they were both attractive in different ways. He was hardly paying attention to his mother’s vows.

Mamma, better known to the town by her nickname, Dora, watched the ceremony with a small smile upon her face. Weddings never failed to remind her of her own – she was just a young girl when she married her Emmett, and she remembered how anxious she was on the very day. Quietly, she silenced a cough with a handkerchief, earning a sideways look from her husband.

Papa, as always, was steel-faced. He privately thought weddings a waste of time but was thankful that the event had distracted his daughters thoroughly enough that they’d managed to stop bickering for the past few weeks of preparation. It was also nice to have a day off from the mines to spend with his family – he could tell the hardships of their new life on the frontier were beginning to wear away at them.

Elijah had only ever been to a handful of weddings in his life. He had no taste for them. They seemed an extravagant waste of time and money for a piece of paper stating a couple was now legally wed. However, even he had to admit there was a certain magic to them.

It had been a long while since he’d seen everyone in town together. Several old faces had gone, and even more new ones had arrived to take their place. Even so, seeing everyone dressed in their best in the church filled him with a sense of kinship he hadn’t felt since moving to the west.

Even Viper Canyon’s resident business owners had turned out for the occasion.

Milton and Clarence Monroe, the father and son who ran the general store, were a reclusive duo. But even they were glad for the wedding – it had boosted their sales considerably, especially since everyone was bustling in for weeks, placing orders from the city, trying to find the best present for the newlyweds.

Timothy Putnam owned the Sidewinder Saloon on Main Street. He was a quiet man who always minded his manners and was happiest behind his bar. He’d come from the city, like most, and attending a wedding made him feel a bit like he was back at home.

Verity and Joseph had met in quite an unconventional fashion.

Joseph was a humble farmer who had moved to Viper Canyon some time ago, eager to start a simple life and tend to the land. He found, after starting his homestead, he was quite lonely and had no one to share his life with.

He’d heard of single men putting advertisements in the newspaper looking for wives to come from the east. At first, he was repulsed by the idea. It was almost like buying a wife. But the long nights with only his cows for company were beginning to take their toll on his mind. He thought he might go insane from loneliness.

Perhaps driven by that desperation, Joseph decided to put a humble advert in the paper. A few weeks later, he heard back from Verity, who enclosed a single photograph of herself for ‘full disclosure.’ He had never been taken aback by a woman’s beauty before. From her very first letter Joseph could tell she was a a good and gentle soul.

Through their correspondence, Joseph learned that Verity had been widowed after being disowned by her well-to-do family for marrying her husband, a man of the cloth. She had nowhere else to turn and was considering moving out west for a chance at a new life. Joseph had never felt more empathy for another soul than as he read that fateful letter. With that, they were quickly engaged, and the Langfords took their meager possessions with them across the trail.

“Joseph Benjamin Ebey, do you take Verity as your lawfully wedded wife, and hereby promise to love and cherish her as long as you both shall live, until death do you part?”

Joseph took a deep breath, unable to keep himself from smiling. “I do.”

“And Verity Anne Langford, do you take Joseph as your lawfully wedded husband, and hereby promise to love and cherish him as long as you both shall live, until death do you part?”

Verity felt a tear come to her eye. “I do.”

“Then by the power vested in me by the Church of the Watcher, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

As humble of a ceremony as it was, the room felt overwhelming joy at bearing witness to the first wedding – hopefully of many – to grace the chapel of Viper Canyon.

Mamma had taken the liberty of making a cake for Verity and Joseph. It was gorgeous, complete with all kinds of frosting decorations and orange blossoms made from marzipan.

After the newlyweds had cut into the cake, everyone helped clear the floor of pews to make room for the celebration. As unconventional as it was, there merely wasn’t room back at Joseph’s home to accommodate the entire town. Reverend Piggott was more than happy to allow the reception to take place in the church.

There was no better way to celebrate brand new nuptials than dancing. Reverend Piggott sat at the piano, plunking out cheerful dancing music as everyone filled the church with sounds of heavy heels and laughter.

Everyone except Emmett, Elijah, and Mr. Monroe.

“Ah, to be young again…” Mr. Monroe remarked wistfully. “If only these old bones weren’t so bothersome. I’d be having a jolly good time ‘round the piano with the rest of them. Say, you’re both two healthy young men – why aren’t either of you dancing?”

It had been a while since Papa had been called a ‘young man.’ He quietly chuckled to himself. “It’d be uneven if I joined,” he explained. “I’d rather let the younger crowd dance.”

Mr. Monroe nodded. “Ah, I suppose that’s true. How good of you, Emmett. What about you then, Elijah, what’s your excuse?”

Elijah cleared his throat. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

The old man clucked his tongue disapprovingly at Elijah. “What a shame that your youth is wasted on you in such a manner. I can’t fathom how you could watch something so wonderful and refuse to take part on account of having two left feet. You ought to feel ashamed.”

Mr. Monroe’s scolding made embarrassed heat crawl up the back of Elijah’s neck as he guiltily watched everyone dance from his spot in the corner. He felt like a little boy being chastised in school again.

They were having a jolly good time. Verity and Joseph were glowing with happiness as they danced with the rest of the group. It was clear for everyone to see that even though they’d gotten to know each other by exchanging letters from across the country, they made a fine match.

Elijah tried and failed to ignore Mr. Monroe’s withering glares, uncomfortably shifting positions each time the old man wandered into his line of sight.

Eventually, night fell, and Reverend Piggott indulged his congregation in slower music so they could all enjoy a waltz before returning home to the rabble of frontier life.

Verity and Joseph danced together, unable to take their eyes off each other, and Papa was happy to take Mamma’s hand for a spell. Beatrice had been the first to leap at the opportunity for a waltz with Peter, who obliged her with a cheeky smile.

The only girl left without a partner was Winnie. She was minding her business, politely waiting for Peter to ask her for a dance, when Beatrice had to swoop in and ask him herself – she had a special knack for ruining Winnie’s plans.

She’d heard stories from her friends back home about the disproportionate amount of men to women in the west. One girl had even told Winnie she could expect to see twenty-five or fifty men to one woman in the desert. Of course she hadn’t expected the ratio to be that unbalanced, but after being eyed up like fresh meat at the market from her corner of the church, it certainly felt that way.

She could feel the eyes of the single men in the room boring into her – all except Mr. Monroe, who was happiest watching everyone else enjoying themselves. She tried to melt into the walls of the church, but she couldn’t sink back any further. It wasn’t like the men in Viper Canyon weren’t universally kind and generous – she just didn’t consider herself to be interested in any of them. Her heart beat faster and faster as she heard heavy footsteps approach – but she was too afraid to look up through her eyelashes to see who was coming.

Elijah didn’t know what had gotten into him. Perhaps Mr. Monroe’s piercing looks and muttering under his breath about ‘wasted youth’ had burrowed under his skin a bit too deep. He wasn’t quite sure of what he was doing until he was suddenly bowing in front of Winnie, quietly asking her to dance.

Winnie looked at Elijah with wide eyes. “Why – of course, Elijah, I’d be happy to dance with you.”

It was an outcome she hadn’t seen coming. She was thankful and relieved it hadn’t been Clarence – the man carried with him a pervading odor akin to that of the pickles he sold in his general store.

Winnie and Elijah found a spot near the piano. Winnie wasn’t a particularly shy girl, but she found herself unable to meet his green eyes even though she could feel him looking down at her. His hands were large and rough around her own. He smelled like the dying embers of a campfire and hair oil. Winnie found it was a scent she quite enjoyed.

It had been a long time since Elijah had danced with a woman. The feeling was foreign but agreeable, nonetheless. His steps were a little rusty, but Winnie only smiled and shook her head, muttering that she didn’t mind when he stepped on the tips of her finest shoes. He was feeling a bit guilty for having asked Winnie to dance. She seemed to be quite accomplished as a dancer and he felt like he was holding her back from truly enjoying herself as she moved to avoid his clumsy footwork – Elijah would have gone as far as to suspect she was the one leading the waltz.

Winnie and Beatrice stayed behind to help Reverend Piggott restore the church to its usual layout. Elijah was on his way home when Mamma called from the Hawkins cart.

“Elijah,” her voice was buttery soft and sweet. “Elijah, dear. Do you have a moment?”

Suddenly, he felt uneasy. He noticed Emmett pretending to mind the road instead of meeting his eyes.

“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”

Mamma smiled and looked over her shoulder, watching Winnie and Beatrice inside the church, before turning to look at Elijah again. He had never really noticed how much Mamma looked like Winnie before. It was a little strange.

“Well, Winterfest is coming quite soon, and I was wondering if you might want to come to our home for dinner. I make a fine roast and it’d be a shame not to share it with you. It’s the least we could do after all you’ve done for us. If you don’t mind my saying, it must get awfully lonesome in that house of yours all alone, especially during the holidays.”

“Oh. That’s mighty kind of you to offer, ma’am, but I would hate to impose.”

“Won’t you, please?” Mamma asked. Her voice was pleading. “The girls would love it, I know. Winnie and Bea do so look up to you.”

How could he say no to that? He had nothing but the upmost respect for Mamma, who had taken the hardships on the trail in stride even with her delicate health. Elijah sighed and put on his best face. “Of course, ma’am. I’d be happy to come over for dinner. Let me know if there’s anything you need before then.”

“Wonderful! We’ll seen you then, Elijah. Get home safely, now.”

He tipped his hat. “Emmett. Ma’am. I hope you do the same.”

The Hawkins sisters floated home on a cloud. Winnie and Beatrice got ready for bed wordlessly, each still with her mind occupied by thoughts of the wedding.

Every few moments Beatrice dreamily sighed to herself, clutching her hands over her chest dramatically.

“So…” Winnie began, once they were both in their nightgowns and ready for bed. “I saw you dancing with Peter.”

Beatrice was beaming from ear to ear. “Oh, Winnie, he’s the sweetest boy I’ve ever met. He was so busy reading those guidebooks on the trail I scarcely got the chance to properly acquaint myself with him, but tonight we did nothing but talk and dance. He’s just perfect – smart, and funny, and an absolute gentleman.”

Winnie smiled at her little sister. It was rare that they could go ten minutes without fighting. She was glad tonight was one of the rare times they could bond. She usually only got Beatrice in a good mood after she’d received a present or good news.

“I’m so glad you’ve found someone you’re sweet on, Bea. You two made quite the pair in the church tonight.”

After Winnie put out their lamp, she began to crawl under the covers, unable to avoid her sister’s gaze. Beatrice had a look on her face that was uncannily like that of a scheming cat.

“Well, I saw you dancing with our trail guide. Are you sweet on him, then?”

Winnie scoffed. “Elijah? Please. He’s almost ten years older than I am and getting to know him is like trying to acquaint oneself with a rock. Not to mention my toes are a sorry sight after he stomped all over them tonight. Blow out the candle and get to bed, Bea.”

Bea only snickered to herself as she extinguished the flame of their bedside candle, plunging the room into darkness.

To Be Continued

Previous Chapter | Viper Canyon Index | Chapter Three

(Taking the pictures for this almost killed me. SO MANY poses and crashes during that wedding!!! Anyway as always let me know what you think! See you next week for Chapter Three.)

#ts2 #sims 2 #ts2 story #viper canyon #viper canyon story #viper canyon: chapter two

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