#the way crown says “this is SICK” always makes me smile and twirl my hair

[dmsr-art]

hi vee, long time blog stalker first time caller, i just got to the twins reunion in the audio book for the first time (read the series last year but never listened) and genuinely actually what the fuck you were not joking moira quirk can IMPLICATE. JESUS HELL. felt like i shouldn’t have been allowed to overhear something like that what on EARTH

THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYIN!!!! anytime i see someone trying to deny the tridentarii incest im Iike um hello... DID U LISTEN TO HOW MOIRA NARRATED IT?? CORONA'S BREATHY VOICE?? just reading it the first time had my pussy going crazy but when i listened to it? WHEW 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 full pussy delirium

and for those who still haven't heard it:

[quindolyn]

Kisses Hello, Kisses Goodbye and All of the Kisses In Between || Remus Lupin

Word Count: 1458

Notes: I’m working on your requests I swear I just don’t know if I will be able to write a lot this weekend so you get this tiny blurb to hopefully tide you over. If it’s any consolation what so ever, it physically pained me to write this, but now I’m also riding a high that will sustain me for an indefinite amount of time so expect more angst in the future.

Warnings: angst, kisses, jily death mentions, sirius death mentions, sickeningly canon

Masterlist

When Remus and you started dating you always greeted each other with kisses, a kiss on the lips, a kiss on the forehead, a kiss on the nose, a kiss on the knuckles. In private, your kisses delved beneath clothes, tracing his scars with your lips, leaving kisses on the insides of each other's thighs, along the curves of each other’s spines.

During your time at Hogwarts, you’d come down from his dormitory where’d you fallen asleep in his arms but awoken mere hours later to an otherwise empty bed. Finding him half asleep on one of the couches in the Gryffindor Common Room, curled up with his History of Magic textbook in his hands. You’d wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple, murmuring a gentle plea for him to return to bed in his ear.

Both during and after Hogwarts Remus would never leave for a full moon without giving you a kiss, in case it was, Godric forbid, the last time he’d get to. And when you saw him in the morning, even if he wasn’t awake yet you’d press kisses to his lips, dusting the entirety of the canvas of his face with feather-light kisses, along his lashes, against his cheekbones, up and down the bridge of his nose.

Kissing him “Hello” again when he finally pried his eyes open, blinking as he lazily opened his eyes, wincing as the harsh sunlight of the morning coming through the windows flooded his irises. 

Kisses goodnight, wrapped in each other’s arms, legs intertwined with your head pressed against his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart while he found comfort in the crown of your head. 

“It’s been too long kisses”, tender without diluting any of the passion the both of you poured into them, reuniting on Platform 9 ¾ after spending the summer apart from each other, willing every second to pass more quickly so you could see your Remmy again, and he you.

Celebratory kisses, colliding in the hallway after finishing your OWLs and then eventually your NEWTs. Him taking you in his arms and lifting you off the ground, twirling you in a circle before setting you down on the floor and brushing the hair out of your face to press a kiss to your widow’s peak.

“Please don’t die kisses” before either of you left for a mission for the order, willing whatever divine powers that may be that your lover would make it back to you safe and sound, that you would see each other again. That this wasn’t the end.

Kisses to tell the other that you loved them, even before the two of you said the words aloud because you were too young. Too scared.

“I can’t believe you’re mine” kisses at the end of the ceremony of your wedding, in the car on the way to the reception, during your first dance, all night long at the hotel suite the two of you decided on. And of course, all throughout your week-long honeymoon, splayed across the warm sand of the beaches of Bora Bora.

“I’m scared kisses” the night before the two of you graduated from Hogwarts as you climbed into his arms where he laid on the velvet furniture of the common room. When the Ministry passed increasingly restrictive laws against werewolves. When James and Lily were murdered. Then Peter. And you learned that it had been Sirius responsible for the whole thing. 

Padfoot.

It couldn’t have been.

When you couldn’t get your hands on Harry, and instead he was forced to live with his dreadful aunt and uncle.

You and Remus had shared many kisses throughout your relationship. He was the love of your life, and you his. Kissing became second nature for the two of you, when words were simultaneously too much and too little, when no other actions spoke as loudly you had your kisses to communicate with each other. Though you often revisited your first kiss, you never actually thought you’d ever share your last.

It had been months of sly glances and brushing your fingers together as they rested on the table in the Great Hall or the library. Months of James and Sirius making not so subtle jokes at the both of your’s expense, of losing your train of thought as he would walk by you. Of him, Remus Lupin, star student, getting called out in class for staring at you instead of paying attention to the lecture. Months of this before you finally got sick of it and stormed up to him in the corridor, taking his face in your hands, pulling it down as you balanced on the tips of your toes to kiss him. What started off as a gentle but sure peck, morphed into a passionate embrace between the two of you as one of his hands found itself on the back of your head, threading his fingers in your hair and the other slung around your waist pulling you close to his body so that there wasn’t a centimeter of space between the two of you.

He didn’t allow you to pull back far as you gasped for breath, instead, resting his forehead against yours as the corridor erupted into cheers from your fellow students led by none other than James Potter and Sirius Black.

You wondered what 15 year old you and Remus would have to say about where you were now. 

The date was May 2nd, 1998, James, Sirius, and Lilly all dead. Peter a traitor, so much life having been lived between of you as one came to an end. A battle was raging around you as you sat crouched in an alcove, tucked away in one of the turrets of the castle, hidden from the madness of the violence just feet from you. Spells flying to and fro, only hitting their intended targets half the time, pieces of the historic castle crumbling and crushing soldiers on both sides of the fight. 

You didn’t care less about what was happening around you, how could you when Remus was lying in front of you, bleeding profusely from his abdomen. You reached out to try to stop the bleeding, pressing your hands to which chest and stomach but the blood seemed to be coming from everywhere and the feeling of your lover’s blood in between your fingers had you about ready to vomit. 

“Remus, Remus please stay with me!” You pleaded, tears pricking your waterline, “Remmy please, you can’t leave me, you can’t you can’t you can’t.” You blubbered as the tears started to flow freely down your flushed cheeks, leaving wet trails in their wake.

“Hey, hey,” You heard from beneath your quivering form, your husband’s clammy, shaking hand reached out to grasp your forearm, smearing blood along your skin, damp with sweat. “M’okay darling I promise, s’all gonna be okay.” As he spoke his words slowed and began to slur together, his eyes slinking closed as a hazed look began to overtake them. “You’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

“Please don’t leave me,” You whimpered, leaning down so your faces were mere centimeters from each other, “I love you so much Rem, I love you too much.” You declared kissing his forehead.

“I love you too baby,” He smiled lazily.

In your desperation you pressed chaste, rushed kisses to his lips which tasted distantly of blood, listening to his breathing get slower and slower. Almost as if he was about to fall into a peaceful sleep.

Refusing to accept the imminent and obvious death of Remus Lupin, you prolonged your kisses, fusing your lips together and kissing him as though you could pour the life back into him. As though your kisses could counteract the blood gushing from his abdomen, whispering gentle “I love you”’s between them before stopping, not wanting Remus to waste his energy in saying it back every time.

You knew he loved you. He’d proved he loved you. All he had to do now was stay alive.

Remus pushed you back, murmuring to you, “Goodbye for now my angel, I’ll see you again soon,” As his eyes shut, his grip on your forearm going limp.

“No!” You screamed in agony, pulling Remus’ now lifeless form to press against your person, your clothes seeped in his blood, your lips dusting across his, taking all the warmth they had left with you, as a reminder that Remus Lupin had lived.

He’d fought, he’d cried, he’d laughed, he’d sung, he’d danced, he’d loved and been loved, he’d celebrated, he’d mourned, he’d persevered and overcome, he’d taught and learned.

He’d kissed.

You never thought you’d kiss Remus Lupin for the last time.

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts​

[bangtan-dreamland]

all i wanna do (is grow old with you)

Pairing: ot7 x gn!reader (a drabble for each member)

Word Count: 3430

Warnings: no warnings needed! this is basically just feel good u.u

Rating: pg

Genre: fluff fluff fluff

Summary: a small collection of moments in the domestic bliss you and him held.

AN: dropping this here for no reason other than to say yes I am alive strong power thank you

»»————-　♡　————-««

playfights are something that you always have to be on watch for with seokjin, with how mischievous he is. and at this moment, washing your dog, you are ever more on guard. or maybe not, because while you continue on lathering your dog's dirty fur, you suddenly feel a blob of something wet on your head. your hair, to be specific. you can feel the soap slide down like a boat would fall down a waterfall, you flash a glare at seokjin, who's suddenly looking all too nervous, eyes blinking fast, but the smile on his lips giving him away as the guilty apprehender. 'it was the dog!' he cries out, and you almost lunge at him- while he jumps away from you. 

'seokjin! get back here!'

'i'm innocent!' 

'no you're not, that was the worst excuse i've ever heard!' 

you both end up running around the garden, soap trailing behind your figures and bubbles behind you, laughter ringing out in the air as you try, again and again, to catch him. it's almost infuriating how your lover uses his longer legs to keep a healthy distance between the two of you. when you finally corner him, you're both out of breath, and the water has made your clothes cling on too tight to your bodies, but you haven't grinned or smiled or laughed as hard in a while, and the mirroring look on your lover's face makes you think it's worth it.

'it was an accident,' he insists. 'the dog threw it, not me.'

you can't even refute the ridiculousness of that statement. oh wait. you can. 'jin, the dog doesn't even know how to throw the soap! and definitely not on my hair!'

a look of pure incredulity shows on his face, pout appearing and eyes blinking fast as if it will help give him credibility, the dork. 'well, that's what it wants you to think.' he concurs with a mockingly offended, quite overly dramatic tone, complete with a vivid shaking of the head. 'but i saw differently!'

'don't you believe your husband?'

you burst out laughing, all over again, for some reason you can't even explain, your heart sosososo full of love. 'god, why am i even in love with you?'

(the two of you do clean up the garden afterwards though, the plants and furniture drowned while you weren't looking- not to mention you have to give the dog a bath all over again, as it rolled around in the dirt while the two of you were busy playing tag. 

seokjin, for his part, is completely unrepentant. you should be stricter, but...

well. at least he made you cookies afterwards.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

it's an hour after three when yoongi comes home, tired, drowsy figure almost collapsing on the sofa as he yawns. he almost falls asleep when you flick the lights back on, watching with no small amount of glee and (some) frustration as the man startles, almost falling off said furniture.

'you really have got to stop staying up until it's almost daytime,' you chide him, walking over to tug him up and off of the sofa, sighing as you card fingers through his matted locks. he looks up at you with the poutiest expression ever, and you steel yourself to not give in with the sheer amount of cute that has congregated to make the person named min yoongi in your arms. instead you amble with him up the stairs, the two of you making for a pair of sleepy, exhausted lovebirds. you'll have to put in first floor  bedrooms when you look for a house together, this happens one too many times already.

when you reach your shared bedroom, you push him into the shower, the water already heated up, while you take out a pair of pajamas.

drying his hair, when the both of you are prone to nodding off, is a herculean chore. still, it's not as if you're okay with wet hair on your pillow, and you know that's an easy way to get sick the next day for him. 'you were in your studio again, weren't you?' you grumble, although you're pretty sure he's fallen asleep already and you're talking to no one. yoongi, for all that he is there to take care of others, is surprisingly receptive to affection when left without a choice. 'i had to,' he surprisingly says, stubborn, but with a sigh, his tone quiet but firm. 'inspiration struck'. and you can't even argue against that, knowing full well how a muse is to her artist. so instead you settle for drawing him close, close, close, muttering softly.

'maybe i should ask if they can add a bedroom to the studio.' you feel him smile against your skin, voice close enough to murmur in your ears. 

'you know i'll only ever get to really sleep when i'm beside you.' 

you scoff. 'you and i both know that's not true.'

warmth against your skin, an arm over yours, and a leg intertwined, soft hair tickling your cheeks, and you feel as if you could head off as it is, but no. he has the audacity to speak up again.

'you are my most melodious lullaby, the sweetest good morning, the link between my dreams and reality. if you aren't there when i sleep and when i awake, then how do i know you aren't just something i've been dreaming for? that you’re actually real, and right beside me?' he presses a kiss against your skin, and, god, that smooth ass jerk, you refuse to look at him at all.

(you both wake up late that morning, and you find you can't complain in the end anyway. even though he always ends up staying up far too late, at least, you know this, you and him will always be each other’s first view in the morning.

not a dream, indeed.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

'come on, love, dance with me!' you grin widely as you surprise hoseok, holding his hand captive in yours, the feather duster falling from his hands as you slide in front of him, tiptoeing to place a kiss on his cheeks. 

he splutters, 'i thought we were supposed to be cleaning,' he raises an eyebrow at you, but you only nuzzle your nose against his, clutching onto him with a pout. there is a standoff with the two of you ending up staring at each other with all the fondness you can feel inside you, one that you end up winning when he places a kiss on the crown of your head.

'dusting can wait,' you insist. 'we're both already filthy anyway!' he feels the laughter bubble up inside him, the helplessly fond smile he has reserved for you and you only showing. but you're not lying, the attic room has been a mess the whole day and one afternoon will not transform it instantly. which is why, rather, standing in the middle of the not-so-crowded-anymore room, the sunlight beaming down from the window and the radio playing out an old love song, you find yourself more inclined to drop what you're supposed to be doing, in favor of spending a few minutes to indulge. 

'your parents will get angry,' he points out, and you hum as you place your hand with his, his arm settling across your waist. this is far from what he normally dances, sharp moves and fluid spins becoming slow and sweet, the usual awe-inducing performance making way for intimacy in that private way, where the two of you are in your own world, closed off from the others. in this moment, you think that's not that far off from the truth. 

'they won't mind,' you shake your head. 'and we can just take a bath afterwards.' he leads you in a sort of glide, across the room, the melody turning and twirling you around, heart beating in both of your chests in a steady, steady rate, each in time with the music. and when he ends the dance, you in his arms, both of you slightly breathless, staring into each other's eyes, you find yourself wondering not for the first time if your lover is not warmth itself reincarnated, for how else can you explain away the feeling of being awash in sunlight, not a single part of you left untouched?

(what was supposed to take only a few days turns into a week and then some, but you can't feel regret for a single moment as the attic becomes filled up with memories you already cherish, a secret hideaway for the two of you.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

'namjoon, come sit down on the grass with me,' you call out, pout on your face as you beckon your lover to come on over. han river remains sparkling no matter whether daytime or nighttime, the waters reflecting the city's beauty, and you are not the only admirer. still, there is something to be said about the way your lover looks as he falls into his thoughts. the two of you made plans to have a picnic here in the park, as the setting sun made itself known across the sky, but it's less of a romantic escapade than it is a moment of peace, a brief respite in your hectic lives. 

'we should have brought a blanket,' he finally says, but you interlace your hand with his, your fingers with his own, tugging him down. he easily complies for all that he complains, and you don't think even he can deny how the grass feels under you. staring up at the dimming sky, blue and red bleeding into gold and purple, the stars beginning to peek through the curtains of night, you find yourself drifting away, the lull of the city dragging you to rest.

'what do you think of the multi-universe theory?' you hear him ask. namjoon is looking up at the sky, and there is a familiar expression on his face that tells you he is thinking about the secrets of the universe yet again, of the human nature and how each and everyone is connected. it's when he looks a little dazed, eyes focused on something beyond, a wistful tone in his voice, and he falls quiet, but when he speaks his thoughts there is always a 'what if?'. 'i wonder if we'd met in other universes too,' he says simply. 

you laugh, gently. 'kim namjoon, if you are saying that there is a universe in which i see you and fail to love you, then let me reassure you now.' he looks away, a pout barely surfacing on his face, and you turn towards him, hands clasped together and your hair spread below you, the two of you picture perfect. 'maybe that universe does exist. maybe in another space and time, i wouldn't have the blessing that i have here, to love you as freely, as much as i can. but this isn't that universe, and nothing will stop me from staying by your side.'

by the end of it, your head is turned away with embarrassment, unable to take what might be his reaction. when you hear him huff, quiet, you turn around. what greets you is namjoon, blushing. 'what would i do without you?' he smiles, soft and sheepish and loving, and you roll your eyes, even as you feel yourself become something not unlike putty in this man's hands, a wave of love crashing over the sandcastle that is you. 'let's hope we never find out.'

(you spend hours in that park, talking about everything and anything, and when you go home it must be close to midnight. not that you regret it, though, when the two of you clumsily almost topple over each other, collapsing on your sofa, together, while you order takeout for the nth time because you're both too tired to cook.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

you don't think much of it, stealing jimin's clothes is as normal, as easy as that for you. the two of you practically share the other's now, a constant mismatch between your closet as what is yours and what is his is blurred, the lines toed and crossed over every time that it's simply easier to count your closets as one being rather than two.

still, it makes for a messy, uncoordinated space, and it easily slips from your mind, or his, of the whereabouts of your belongings.

'babe,' you can hear the pout in his voice. 'did you see my hoodie?' 'which hoodie?' 'my favorite one!' 'which favorite one?' at this point you see his head pop out from the doorframe, prominent lips stuck out and eyes searching the room. 'it's the green one, the soft, huge, green hoodie. that one.'

you stifle a rising amount of chuckles as you eventually realize the location of the hoodie in question- on your body, as you stole it from his closet just this morning. you don't think you can be seen as guilty though, not when the hoodie itself seemed to be begging for someone to wear it. impossibly soft, impossibly huge and impossibly sweet-smelling from the laundry softener you used, it was easy to drown in it and comfortably doze off. 'sorry baby, i don't know where it went.' 'okay, but, babe, can you help me...'

you startle as you surprisingly feel the shadow of your lover on your body, handsome face so suddenly, so dangerously close to your own, even if upside down. 'yn, you had it all this time!' you chuckle at the whine in his voice, even as he leans forward to try and tug it off you. 'give it now,' he says, but you shake your head, giggling as jimin tries. 'raise your arms! i can't believe you made me run around looking for this,' he grumbles, but you cross your arms instead, sitting up, turning around to face him, preparing yourself for a fight. 

'no way, this is the softest hoodie in the house. i'm not giving it up.'

a moment of silence, and then- jimin attacks you, lunging forward to glomp you. you feel yourself become confused, when you feel his fingers around your sides, and you burst out into laughter, long and loud. 

'no, jimin!' 

'give it back!' 

'no way!' 

'then suffer under my wrath!'

(he only stops when tears actually appear at the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard, easily sprawling across your chest, the two of you on the floor and too tired to move. 'we can share,' you hum, choking as your lover narrows his eyes at you, before decidedly burrowing under your hoodie as well. with how big it is, and how not big both of you are, you surprisingly fit with him inside. it's too warm for two people inside, but as jimin lays his head comfortably across your chest, the thumping of your heart lulling him to rest, and he holds you in his arms, neither of you find you can argue against your positions.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

waking up with taehyung in the morning is an ordeal that never fails to make you smile. warmth pooling across the sheets, the warm breeze drafting in from the window, your lover's body wrapped around yours- there is a kind of holy in the way serene mornings like these are, quiet and golden, the world seemingly stopping for a moment, if only for the two of you.

it breaks your heart every time to have to shatter the illusion. 'taehyung', you whisper. there's not even a twitch in his movements, snoring quiet but steady as he continues off to slumber. you, however, can't get out of his hold, not without the man releasing you anyway- you would know, you've tried so many times before and it's always been a moot point. the only way to get out of taehyung's grip, is to wake him up into doing so. still, you find yourself soft and hesitant, every single time. 'taehyung,' you try again, a little louder this time. you shake him, and it takes you a solid minute or two for the man to actually make a sound, a low groan at the back of his throat. when he registers the situation at hand, though, your lover declines to release you, holding you captive with his embrace instead.

'stay in bed with me,' he almost whines, and you press your lips together to stop yourself from bursting into giggles.

'you know i can't do that,' you rebutt. 'i have work in an hour!' 

'but i can't sleep without you.'

'you big baby,' you fondly, exasperatedly call him out, and you see him briefly crack his eyes open, if only to look at you with a pout. 

you see him struggle whether or not to protest your words, before the sleepy takes over and he lazily agrees, pulling you closer in return. 'mhm, i'm your baby...' 

'taehyung...' 

'just a few more minutes, i swear,' he presses a light kiss on your forehead, and you know it's not just your imagination that you feel him smile against your skin, when you sigh loudly, relenting to his demands. 

'you're incorrigible,' you whine as you bury your head in his chest. 

'only because i love you.' 

you would call it a laugh if it weren't for the yawn that sneaks in at the end.

and just as easy as that do you both fall off back to sleep, your phone's alarm scaring the hell out of you half an hour later. it was practically a given that you'd end up falling back to sleep with him really, you could say it was a ritual at this point.

(you end up being late to work, as a matter of fact, but you can't even find it in yourself to be angry. after all, there is quite nothing like waking up together in the morning, especially with your lover.

he takes you out on a date to the amusement park that weekend too, so you suppose you can forgive him.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

'jungkook,' you muffle your laughter behind your hand, but there's no denying the bright grin on your face as you feel your lover's arms encircle your waist. bright and early, it's early enough into the morning that the sky is still caught between the hues of red and pink, like a rose slowly blooming from night's embrace. it's what makes your lover's apparent waking state a mystery, when you know how heavy your lover sleeps. there goes your plan to bring him breakfast in bed, huh? 

'what are you even doing?' you receive no reply, not one in words anyway, as you hear him mutter something unintelligible into your shoulders. his warmth against your back is addicting, especially in the chill of the morning air, but you're nothing if not determined, and if he's here to drag you back to bed, you're having none of it. 'if you're sleepy,' you start, turning around to hug him properly, jungkook's face nuzzling into your neck afterwards. 'you should go back to bed.' 'but you're not there with me,' you finally hear him say. 'just go back to cooking, i'll just stay here...'

'jungkook, i can't cook while you're wrapped around me!' you almost burst into laughter at that, what more at the earnest expression on your lover. 'why not?' he grumbles, a pout appearing on his face. you don't know whether to shake your head, or what- when your lover uses what he knows is his greatest weapon against you. 'don't give me that look,' you sigh, but your resolve crumbles quickly, and it's obvious that jungkook can see it as well.

'don't blame me if it turns out burnt,'  you finally sigh. you feel, rather than hear him chuckle briefly. 'i'm sure it will still be delicious.' 'you say that no matter what i cook,' you mutter under your breath and he stays quiet because you're right. instead, you finally feel him disentangle from your, rather reluctantly, before he gets his own apron and gloves. 'then i guess we should just cook together then,' he declares, bumping shoulders with you. 'can't mess it up then, can we?' he smirks, cocky and familiar, and you roll your eyes even as you feel yourself settle so easily by his side, the two of you finishing breakfast together.

(the food, amazingly enough, does not become burnt, and turns out well instead. of course, he did help you after all. still, sitting at the table, eating together, you smile easy, softly. how can you not? everything about this moment is perfect, and you wouldn't have any qualms about it lasting forever.

judging by the smile on jungkook's face, you aren't the only one to feel this way, too.)

[thebluestbluewords]

Don’t You Dare Look Back

(Jay and Lonnie being bros again, ~1000 words, complicated teenage feelings about being attracted to people)

*

“You look pretty.”

Jay spins around. “Lonnie. Hey.”

“I got you a flower.”

His mouth actually drops open in surprise, which shouldn’t be nearly as cute as Lonnie thinks it is. “Hey, just like you said!” he says, reaching out for the yellow flower she’s holding. “It’s cute.”

Lonnie doesn’t let go of the flower. “Can I put it on you?” she asks. It’s not going to be a big deal if he says no, or laughs it off and asks to put it on her instead, or whatever. It’s really not.

Jay’s face looks fit to burst with how much he’s grinning. “Yeah, whatever,” he says, but he looks so happy, and Lonnie knows, right then, that this is gonna be a good thing.

She threads the stem of the flower through one of the decorative fasteners on his jacket. “There.” she says. “You clean up nice, you know?”

“You--you too?”

“Yeah. I’m always cute, though.” Lonnie says, twirling. “Hey, am I taller than you in these heels?”

“I dunno, but I love looking up at you,” Jay says, taking her hand. “You wanna find some space to dance, gorgeous?”

Oops. Maybe too far with the flirting there. “Give a girl a second to warm up first,” Lonnie says, hooking her arm over Jay’s shoulders. “Let’s find some punch first and then I can show you my sick moves.”

“Lead the way,” Jay says, looping his arm around her waist. “Your royal dance floor awaits you.”

“And my date?”

“Is ready to find some friends and some food, if that’s what we’re looking for.” Jay says, grinning at her.

Lonnie can’t help but grin. It’s gonna be a good night, she’s sure of it. “Is it, thanks. And hey,” she says, scanning the crowd for a familiar face, “there’s our favorite nerds!”

Jane is on the opposite side of the dance floor, holding a sparkly clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other, looking shimmery and happy with her pen arm looped lightly through the arm of a very familiar friend in a black and white jacket. “Jane, hi!” Lonnie calls. “Hey Carlos! You guys look cute!”

Beside her, Jay goes tense for the barest hint of a second. Hm. It’s probably not the potential social disgrace of calling out across a party that’s bothering him, at least as far as Lonnie’s seen in the past. Maybe he’s uncomfortable being seen out with her like this, but the smile she got when she gave him that flower says otherwise. It’s possible that Jay is crushing on Jane, and that little tense up was because he doesn’t like seeing her with another guy, but Lonnie’s got a different hunch she’s working on right now. She’s pretty sure it’s not quite Jane that Jay is looking at tonight.

Not that Jane isn’t worthy of being looked at in her own right. She’s wearing a blue dress tonight, with a bow around her waist and loose waves in her hair, which is finally growing out of the mommy-and-me cut she’s had since third grade. Her dress has a sort of silvery sheen to it that makes Jane’s pale skin shimmer as well, and thank god the girl has finally ditched the high necklines all the time, because the shape of this dress is doing wonders for her figure. Lonnie’s almost a little jealous of how nice Jane’s chest looks, but mostly she’s glad for Jane. She’s such a sweet friend, and she works so hard on her committees, and sure, Lonnie might be a little bit jealous that Jane has a real date to cotillion, but she’s glad for her too! All of Lonnie’s friends deserve the best, even when she can’t be the one to give it to them.

“Lonnie!” Jane calls back, catching her eye and waving them over. “Hi, you look so nice, oh my goodness, what a dress.”

Lonnie spins for her. “It’s an Evie original.” she says, beaming. She looks damn good in this dress, and it’s nice to have someone who appreciates fashion admire it. “Isn’t the color to die for?”

“Hey, you two almost match,” Jay says, bumping Lonnie’s shoulder with the bottom of his cup. “Pink and blue, just reversed.”

“Oh my gods, we have to get a picture together,” Jane says, shoving her clipboard at Carlos so she can grab Lonnie’s hand. “It’ll be so cute, please. And then we can do some group ones! I set up this photo booth downstairs where there’s good lighting, and it’s got silly hats and I even put in some signs that people can write their own messages on, and it’s--”

“Breathe, hey! Of course we can get a picture together,” Lonnie says. “Maybe we can do one with the four of us? The island guys and the pink-and-blue girls, we can be like a matching set.”

“Mix and match, that would be so funny,” Jane says, beaming. “I mean, only if you guys want to. I don’t wanna take time away from your date or anything.”

Lonnie looks to Jay, who shrugs. “I’m down for pics,” he says. “Gotta document the only time I’m gonna look this pretty, amirite?”

Jane glances at Carlos, who is looking at her like she’s the brightest star in the sky. “I’m having fun if you are,” he says, face bright and happy just looking at her. “I’m down for anything.”

Good. Jane deserves a boy who can’t take his eyes off her, a boy who keeps smiling like that even as she’s grabbing his hand to pull him along behind her.

“Come on!” Jane says, turning around again. “We have to go before it gets too crowded, or I’ll never make it back to see Evie and Mal arrive.”

Jay sweeps his arm, usering Lonnie dramatically through the crown. “You heard the lady. Lead the way, beautiful.”

Lonnie smacks him. “Charmer,” she says, but grabs his hand anyway. “You’re supposed to be the pretty one, you know.”

“We can both be the eye candy tonight,” Jay says, letting her lead the way. “I’m okay with sharing.”

[plush-rabbit]

Twenty Minutes

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: Honestly, yall,, never stop giving me Tenko requests,  I love him so much (also like if the current series wasn't going to happen, there was gonna be a tenko series but I felt like it added too much character to the reader but then I started thinking about it another way and ahh, too much talking, ill stop, okay enjoy!!)

Tenko is anxious. He can feel his skin crawl and he's desperately trying not to pick at it with nails fisted over a newly folded blanket, the chilly air from outside coming in from an open window to let any lingering smells dilute or fan out. The candle that you got him for his birthday is lit, the sweet scent of peach filling the room and fading before it can get too strong and overwhelm him. The flames flicker in and out, wisping against the gentle wind that enters through his window and coming to a still along with the leaves on the tree that stands outside his window.

Everything in his room is clean and in an orderly fashion. Figurines in place, posters straightened, sheets made and any lingering smells have been dealt with fresh air and the power of a candle. Everything is clean and tidy for when you arrive.

He shuts the window with a sigh. He turns and leans against the wall, a hand rubbing mindlessly over the gloves that cover his ring and pinky finger and wraps around his thumb. He stares at the floor, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and he runs over his mental checklist, desperate to find something else to fix so he isn’t alone with his thoughts.

"You're going to ruin your lips if you keep doing that," a sweet voice says and he startles, peeling himself off of the wall, a smile on his lips, only to fall when he sees that it isn't you.

He rolls his eyes and pulls out his chair, letting it roll as he comes to sit on it. "Aren't you and the rest supposed to be gone by now?"

Hana gasps, a look of offense written over her face. "Here I am doing you a favor by taking the family out of the house and you're going to rush me? Oh Tenko, and here I thought we were family."

He sighs and stands up from the chair, walking to the door and gently shoving his sister out. "You know family doesn't mean shit in this house," he states in a flippant tone. "Can you hurry up? I don't want them to think I want to introduce them to my family."

He hears her sigh but she doesn’t respond to his statements, choosing to walk in silence as they descend down the steps. 

"We're already in the car, I just came to say bye." Her hand is placed on his shoulder in a comforting gesture and his face burns, the corner of his lip twitching. "We should be back in a few hours. I'll message you before we do, okay?" Her tone is sisterly, caring and fretting over him as if she’s the mother, gentle and eyes that crease with too much worry and it makes him sick. He gives her a look as they stand by the front door, the sound of a honking horn interrupting the quiet atmosphere. "So you can get them out and not have them meet us," she says with a slight laugh. There's another honk and Hana groans. "All right, I'll see you later. Be good," she says in a sing-song tone, letting the front door close with a soft click.

He sits on the couch, phone pulled out of his pocket to wait for your message that you're arriving. He rereads the messages you sent confirming today's plans. As much as he wanted to cancel, he also wanted to spend time with you and he's been looking forward to this ever since you offered the idea and he might owe Hana a lot after this but it'll be worth it.

His foot taps nervously on the floor and he's just so nervous waiting for you to arrive. Realistically he knows you wouldn't cancel on him but he can't help the awful, twisting feeling that he'll wait for hours for you to never show. His face already burns with the thought of you not showing up, humiliation settling in deep within, his neck aches and fingers twitch, crawling up his body to pull taut against his neck. He hisses, tears springing in his eyes as red lines begin to mark him.

There's a knock on his door and he startles. His hand falls from his neck and immediately the palm rubs over in a soothing motion, his rough hand irritating at the skin. He stands and takes a look at his phone, an unread message from you stating that you'll be over in five minutes and true to your word, it's been five minutes since that message.

He pats at his skin and runs a hand down his hair, twirling at a dark strand and letting it unfurl from around his finger. He sucks in a deep breath and opens the door with a lazy smile.

You stand in front of him, backpack in hand and he can smell the fruity scent of your perfume on you. He clears his throat and offers a breathless hello, scrambling to move over to the side and welcome you in. He can feel heat pool around his body, face burning with sudden self-consciousness, as he failed to spray himself in cologne.

You give him a soft smile as you enter, taking your shoes off and placing them beside the door. "No hug, Ten?" You ask with a fake pout, lips turning into a smile before too long. He sees your eyes flicker to his neck, the slightest fraction of your eyes opening as you take notice of the welting spots.

He stiffens and looks away from you, eyes narrowed and red dusting at his cheeks. "I'll get you slippers," he murmurs and flinches when you grab at his wrist, coming to a still.

"Tenko," you say softly, "relax. It's just me." You let his wrist go and he stands in place, sucking in a deep breath through his nose, your hand coming to hold into the back of his shirt. "Let's just go study in your room."

He swallows his anxiety and turns to face you, your hand falling from his shirt and back to your side. You give him an encouraging smile and he steps close to you, wrapping his arms around your body, head buried into the curve of your neck where the perfume smells stronger. It's a hug that lasts for less than minute but one where you return it with the same intensity as you always have, arms tight around him, humming into him, as you press yourself close to his body, the brush of your lips ghosting above his skin and he’s left breathless, pulling away too soon for his liking, grabbing you gently by the hand and leading you through to his room.

His eyes widen when he sees that he left the candle on, hurriedly scrambling to blow it out, blinking and wincing when the smoke floats to his eyes. He turns to see you give him a knowing smile, eyes flashing back and forth between the candle and he gives you a halfhearted shrug.

“Smells nice,” he mumbles, clearing his throat. “Thanks for it.”

“I’m just glad that you used it,” you chirp, holding the straps of your backpack and teetering between on your soles before rocking back to the front. Your socks are printed with fruit, a soft gray with red cherries printed all over. “If I had to be honest, I was afraid you weren’t going to use it.” He gives you a raise of his thin brows, coming to grab at his chair, offering the seat to you. “You just didn’t seem like the type to light up candles, is all.” You take the seat with a thankful smile and pull out a book, flipping through the pages flippantly. “I felt like it would’ve been better if I had given you one of those car pine trees.”

He snorts and grabs at his own book bag, pulling out a matching book. “Funny. Car things are more of Takami’s style.” He hears you chuckle and he thinks it's enough to end the conversation there.

“Where are you sitting?” You look at him with your book in your lap, your head tilted as you look around as if waiting for another chair to pop up.

“Huh?” he says gracelessly.

You give him a tired smile. “Where are you sitting?” He blinks at you and you laugh this time, rich and filling his room with pure joy. “Do you have another chair? I don’t want you sitting on the floor- doesn’t seem becoming of an up and coming hero. Unless,” you give him a coy smile and his face burns, “you want me to sit on your lap? Or you on mine?” He chokes on his spit and you laugh louder, wheezing between breaths and clutching the book until your knuckles turn white. “Shit Ten, I’m sorry,” you say through a fit of giggles. “But seriously,” a burst of laughter breaks your sentence, “where are you sitting?”

He hadn’t thought about that. He could go get Hana’s chair but that would require too much effort and it would be awkward to have you see him struggle to fit a chair through his door. He can’t risk letting you see him as a stumbling and awkward person. He turns to his bed and he knows that it’s a dumb idea- horrible, really- and the chance of you two actually studying is low but it’s already low and- well fuck, he clears his throat and sits on the edge of his bed.

“Let’s just study on my bed.” He ignores the way your smile grows into something less of teasing and more genuine, filled with excitement as your lips curl. “It’s more comfortable-” he looks away from you and onto a pillow that was recently fluffed- “and we can share notes and-”

“You’re okay with having me on your bed?” He turns to look at you and your smile is softer now, excitement contained at the seams. You rise from where you sit and stand in front of him, hand gripping the book in front of your chest and he stares at the book, unable to meet your eyes. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Tenko.”

Hearing his name leave your lips always makes his heart skip, a light squeeze around the organ and he nods. “You never make me feel uncomfortable,” he mutters.

He assumes it must have been the correct thing to say from the way you kiss the crown of his head and sit beside him, head on his shoulder and he nods his head against yours, letting his eyes close for just a moment while you twi sit in silence, your hand coming to hold his and he wishes that he didn’t need the gloves, he wants to hold your hand fully in his, no fabric in between, just skin against skin.

“Then let’s get studying,” you whisper and he nods.

The bed creaks as the both of you fix into a comfortable position, shoulder against shoulder, sticky notes plastered against the textbook, pages turned in synchronization as he reads the text and you write down his examples. Black hair accessorized with bunny themed clips keeping the bangs away from his vision. He lays next to you, books outstretched and your head buried into the space between your crossed arms, your eyes blinking slowly, trying desperately to stay awake. He calls your name and you answer with a hum, your eyes slowly falling to a close. The room lingers with a light peach scent, mixed in with your own fruity scent and he risks a glance towards you. Your book lays open on a page that you both have long passed, pencil in between the pages and your eyes on his hands.

“Tenko,” you murmur, stretching your legs, your socks hitting against his calf and he gives you a grunt of acknowledgement. “I’m tired.” You yawn as if to emphasize your words, your hand leaving from under your arm, indents from your clothes printed onto it, and you reach over to hold his hand, interlacing his hand with yours. “Can we take a nap together?”

“We have a test on Monday,” he whispers, staring at the interlaced hands.

“And you’ll do great on it,” you yawn, stretching out the last word. “Just a twenty minute one.” You close your book, a space where the pencil keeps your page opened. “I’ll play with your hair,” you tempt, grabbing his pencil and mimicking your book, pencil placed between the pages and closing it, shoving it towards the pillows.

“You’ll fall asleep before you do,” he retorts, slipping his hand away from you, turning on his side and opening his arms, the corner of his lips twitching as you bury your face into his chest. “You’re going to fail if you don’t take this seriously,” he warns, pressing his lips against your temple.

“And then I can get you as a tutor.” He bunches the back of your shirt as you press your lips against his chest, right over his heart, feeling it quicken its beat under the thin fabric.

“And I thought I sucked at school,” he says under his breath, his arm bending to rest his head against, eyes slowly coming to a close.

“You’re smart,” your words start to slur, softening and pausing in between, “you just turn in things late.” He opens his mouth to retort, bitterness laced into the unspoken words, already leaving an aftertaste in his mouth, throat feeling as if it’s on fire. “I don’t like it when you start saying mean things about yourself. You’re smart Ten, you just find the work boring.” Your legs come between his, knotting them together, your hand reaching to the back of his head and lightly pulling against the dark tufts. “Twenty minutes and then we can wake up,” you murmur, your hands already slowing down their movements, starting up again in short intervals where you stroke quickly only to slow.

He lays next to you, keeping you wrapped up in his arms, your face squished against his chest, hands coming to a final slow as they part through the ends and fingertips brushing gently against the back of his neck, and grifting to his back. He’s covered in goosebumps, eyes half lidded as he strokes your back and plays with the end of your hair, nose buried against your head as he lays staring at the candle that you bought him.

“Twenty minutes, huh?” He says to himself, taking a peek at your still frame, and soft murmurs of your sleep. “I guess this isn’t so bad.” He swallows the lump in his throat, kissing the top of your head and resting against you.

[murdocking]

𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭

c𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟣; 𝗍𝗌𝗎𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗆𝖺 𝗄𝖾𝗂/𝖿𝖾𝗆! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒. 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌.

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌. 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗂 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁. 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝗂𝗄𝖺𝗐𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗌...𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇...𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗌𝗁...𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖫𝖬𝖠𝖮𝖮𝖮 𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝗎𝗍... 𝗐𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗇

Lights adorned every crevice of the wonderous palace, the land decorated with vibrant flowers covering the twisting vines on the archway to the prince’s home. Carriages and stallions littered the entrance of the stone castle, beautiful people with smiles on their faces made their way to the open doors where music played by the talented Takeda swarmed the main room. As couples whispered small compliments to each other and gossiping mothers chose appetizers for their husbands and children- the prince was being dolled up by his irritatingly clingy friends.

“please tsukki- it’s just a little more left-“ “I cannot even breathe through this disgusting paste on my face- god can these imbeciles leave this is pointless.” The prince sighed in heavy annoyance, his blonde hair being tied back (he swore he was going to grab one of Miss Yachi’s knives and cut it himself) and glasses thrown on the vanity’s hardwood. “oh be quiet- its only for a few hours not to mention you enjoy ridiculing your people Tsukishima.” Sugawara grumbled, tired of his complaints as he mixed more water in his brush to loosen its bristles; to which Tsukishima jerked his head, standing up to look down on his older companion. “don’t you forget your place.” Yamaguchi simply stares at the articulate tile below his foot, wanting nothing more than to be immersed into the joy the people displayed outside of the stuffy room he was currently in.

Ukai stands behind his companion, Takeda, while his delicate fingers hit every key on his piano perfectly- simply whispering to him about future songs the two would be playing later during the prince’s ball; Takeda would answer with a distracted tone to all the questions Ukai posed, frustrated the blonde to no end.

“you’re lucky you have an excuse not to be paying attention right now, Takeda.” “of course, that’s perfect monsieur Ukai.” “god dam- “

The moon seemed to be even brighter that night, and to Tsukishima Kei- it was as though the gods had decided to mock his name as he spent another year alone for his birthday, hands of his ‘servants’ fixing his appearance while Sugawara spoke with faux pride in the main room to introduce his prince. The room filled with harsh silence as Tsukishima’s tall stature stepped quietly down the carpeted steps with an uninterested gaze over the crowd of people he didn’t know, and didn’t wish to know. “my prince, it is my honor to begin your-“

The dark doors that had been shut close suddenly opened, the creak of its hinges holding more volume than Sugawara or Takeda could have ever wished to achieve. A battered down woman limped in, her hair was thin against her fragile face- her wrinkles holding dirt and mud, evidence of tough travel conditions. Tsukishima could barely contain his chuckle at her appearance.

“m-my prince…! Please, if you would be so kind a-as to help me, I seem to ha-“ “and you have the pure audacity to enter my home, disgustingly ruining the beauty of this ball…and not even bring me a gift…? You are a bold woman…” Tsukishima scoffed under his breath, Yamaguchi frowned at just how hurtful his best friend had become. “b-but my prince, I do bring you a gift…” she turned to her worn down and sopping satchel, pulling a beautiful rose that even Sugawara could smell from his place in the middle of the room. Its petals shimmered in the candlelight of the party- and its green stem was of such a pigment that all attending were sure not even the finest of painters could achieve such a hue.

Tsukishima breathes hard, walking closer to the elderly woman before gently taking the rose. He stares at it a moment, his hands moving on their own as he throws it behind his back with a small “oops”. the woman stared at his highness in pure disbelief, his arrogance had upset her to the highest degree.

“very well.” she stands up, and its as though she was growing in front of Tsukishima as he stared at the elderly woman morph into a beautiful woman who seemed to only be in her 20s. ‘well fuck?’ she held a strong glare at him as her ripped hood lifted off of her short brown hair, twisting into dark silver crown that never met her strands of hair. “Tsukishima Kei.” He gulped slightly, his hands grabbing onto the end of his shirt as he tried to focus on the (slightly blurry) scene before him, the lady easily moving behind him to grab the flower he had earlier discarded. “although appearances may be deceiving, all should know who you really are at heart” her delicate hand pushed harshly against his chest, her eyes never moving from his “I damn you to become what you really are” her finger snapped in front of his face and stole his coming breath instantly. “a detestable beast.”

When he opens his mouth to retort, a scream erupts instead as his bones and joints of his hands felt like they were being stretched by a torture machine, his spine felt contorted against his caving and heaving stomach. the enchantress watches in amusement, her stare towards his party held no remorse as the flick of her wrist opened the doors once more. “I will count down from 30. You have that long until you join your dearest prince.” it was something out of a manic state that made families depart without a care for each other- a child being separated from their father, and a man being lost without his love. the cooks in the far back of the palace broke the windows with a poor attempt of leaving the horror of the castle as Tsukishima’s screams of pure agony and pain changed into animalistic growls. the enchantress twirls the rose in her hand, her voice of honey contrasting the words that fell out of her mouth “if by the last petal falls, and you have truly loved someone and they have loved you back- you and everyone here will be free from my curse. However,” she cranes her neck and motions her hand downwards- closing the gates to the castle and boarding up all the glass pane windows, “if not, you will forever be a beast. And everyone here will be part of your castle- for eternity.” And with a final roar of protest and pain, Tsukishima had truly become a beast.

 -----

“I don’t think I understand that- how could you be selling a whole loaf of bread for 3 coins yesterday and today it is 7 coins for half of a stale loaf? What sick game are you playing here, Bokuto?” You speak with annoyance, tapping your foot on the stone floor while your friend gives you a short smirk “im not playing anything besides business. That, my friend, was merely a discount. You have to pay my full price.” He retorts, giving a smile to a child as the boy hands the older one a bag of coins- setting two loaves of fresh bread onto the kid’s small hands “now I know you’re lying straight to my face, Bokuto.” You say, stuffing your hand into your dirty dress pocket, counting the silver coins in your head as you pull out 2 more before pressing them onto the wooden table. “there’s no way I’d be receiving your ‘discount’ for nearly 19 years. Just give me the bread and I’ll be on my way.” he ponders for a moment, his eyes getting lost in the crowd when he sees the black tuff of hair wandering through the middle of it. “fine, just this onc-“ “thank you Bokuto pleasure doing business with you!” You quickly snatch the fresh bread beside him instead of the one you two had previously agreed on, to which you heard his protests fade out as you stuffed the bread into your woven basket. you greet the widow by the bookstore with a wave and a quarter of poorly cut bread.

“you know, you never have to give me this my dear.” “it is alright though! Kou always lets me off the hook, so I don’t mind sharing Ms.” You say, giving a curt nod before departing- heading inside to catch the eye of Akaashi, his eyes quickly scanning your outfit and bag, seeing the bread inside. “he was looking for you again” “should I feel honored?” you scoff, and he lightly rolls his eyes as he hands you the newest supply of books. “im sorry to disappoint, Y/n- but all we have are the same old stories. Even I’m getting tired of them all” the male beside you sighs, rubbing his eyes as you coyly take the one on the top of the stack. “oh that’s just fine Akaashi, I don’t mind it. It isn’t like I have much to do anyways” “you could be making friends but I mean, that’s just my input…” “now you-“ “hey akaashi!” Bokutos face suddenly comes in, startling you as Akaashi perks up- giving his friend a wave as his shirt and pants is coated in scattered flour. “bokuto what did I say about cleaning off before coming inside…” “but…” “well! I need to be going! Thank you again Akaashi for the supply. I’ll be back later with the ones I took last week” “you know you don’t have to y/-“ he speaks as you stand up, not wanting to be in the middle of the tense atmosphere. “I don’t mind it, I’ll see you both around okay?”

And as every day, you walk through the bustling town- ignoring the stares and whispers directed at you while you flipped the page of the book you were currently reading, the characters felt more real to you than the literal people bumping into you. you kept walking, following the same dusty stones as the day before to lead up a small hill to your part of town- small chicks running beside your foot as their mother hens stood behind them. “father, I’m home.” silence, he wasn’t home yet.

“you know, in a few years- instead of you saying that it could be our child.” You jump, being caught off-guard by the taunting voice of the most annoying piece of shit you had ever met. “oikawa… I don’t know if you know this, but- you’re quite delusional monsieur!” you speak with a fake pep- his smile never faltering as he gives your free hand a kiss. “oh but imagine the sight y/n. wouldn’t you agree it would be quite exquisite?” “no.” “oh” he stops speaking for a moment before a ‘tsk’ leaves from between his lips. “you know y/n, im honestly doing you a favor by asking you to be my wife. Everyone adores me and…I suppose you- you would be comfortable with me. I mean not to mention,” he leans down a little to meet your eyes, “when your father passes, there will be no suitors for you. of course, you are stunning- but being a wife ah… you’re probably…last on the list there. You wouldn’t want to end up the new village widow, would you? living off the kindness of the townsfolk?” his harsh words slipped from his pretty lips, and you stared in disbelief- you were genuinely hurt. “well,” you cleared your throat, blinking a bit to stop any form of an emotional outburst from rising to the surface. “I would rather be a street rat stealing from whoever than being someone’s medal from his war to show off and be of use for pleasantries.” You say, begging internally you wouldn’t crack under his strong gaze. “wow, I wouldn’t peg you for the type to bite. That only makes you more hm…” he gasps. “irritating.” “you should leave oikawa.” “you know where to find me, Y/n.”

-----

𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 ��𝘔𝘈𝘖𝘖 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘪 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 + 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬

[afandommultiverse]

Our Little Piece of Heaven - Julius Novachrono LEMON

Words - 2666

Summary - Being the Queen of Clover Kingdom had its ups and its downs but your little piece of heaven exceeded all. A/n - This is unedited and it took days to write so it kinda jumps but its good, hope you enjoy!

"JULIUS!" Marx screamed for the wizard king, he was, of course, missing from his office, again. But this time, Marx knew Julius couldn't be late for something as important as this. It was the coronation of the new Queen and he only had 3 minutes to find the missing mage.

"Julius- oh god, JULIUS!" He spotted just trying to dodge around a corner, but just before he could get away. Marx grabbed his wrist and pulled him the other direction. A strength you wouldn't think he had suddenly reared its head as he dragged Julius ruthlessly down the halls of the castle.

"Marx I was really busy-"

"TOO BUSY FOR THE CEREMONY?!? I'm sorry, Julius, but this is your job. And it's my job to get you there on time so let's go!" Julius swore his arm was going to pop out of its socket. 

***

The beginning of the ceremony was bland and boring. All the royals and nobles gathering for the event, gossiping about the new queen. What she looked like was a mystery, some said she was a brunette, some said a blonde, and few thought of a fiery redhead. Julius was rather annoyed but kept his smile tight, but when he saw her, he couldn't help but let his jaw drop.

The trumpets began and the guards opened the door to show off the beauty who was to be King Augustus' wife. The world seemed to stop as Julius laid his eyes on her. A long and cascading dress falling from her shoulders. Sewn together was the most gorgeous green he had seen, with highlighting gold clovers falling down the length of it. For a second he thought he might have set off a spell on accident but when the sound of the screechy King's voice filled his ears, he was suddenly brought back to reality.

"She is simply gorgeous, isn't she? Yes, yes, I just can't wait for tonight." The thought of the hands of the bastard on your body drove some kind of anger in Julius that he had never felt before. He had to stop himself from reaching over and grabbing the coward by the neck, ring him out in front of the entire upper-class capital, and he knew he could get away with it too.

Alas, he could not.

As you reached the end of the room, the blessing began. While this would be your coronation, it would also be the wedding, so as the priest began his preaching of matrimony, everyone else readied the crown and vows.

It all seemed to go by in a blur though because as Julius blinked, the whole thing seemed to be over.

"Smitten, sir?" Julius smiled softly and looked down and Marx as everyone began to vacate, leaving the newlyweds to do... well what newlyweds do.

"Can't be, Marx. She's the Queen." Evading a proper answer Julius began to walk away, slower than usual. Marx cared not to follow, somehow knowing he should let the Wizard King be alone, just this once.

***

It wasn't long before Julius saw you again, it was actually the next morning. You had bumped into him while trying to sneak out of your own room. You let out a short scream as you feel unbalanced, but before you could hit the ground, Julius' hands shot around your waist. Grabbing onto the fluffy collar of his robe you steadied yourself. You didn't look up at him until he spoke, too busy trying to straighten yourself out.

"Rough night?" It wasn't until you looked up that he realized who he was holding, and when he did, he had to stop himself from squeezing tighter.

"Oh, I uh, guess you could say that, yes." You stepped back looking down and combing back a piece of disheveled hair. Julius' eyes shot to your neck looking for any sign of harm or marking but found nothing.

"Are you... okay?" He couldn't help but ask. Your eyes seemed to drop their false cheeriness and instead turn gloomy and sad.

"Uhm yeah, as happy as I can be being, married against my will and all."

"I'm sorry... He didn't...?" Julius couldn't finish the thought, less the sentence.

"What? Oh! Oh, no. I think that was the only good thing that happened yesterday." Your face dropped again and Julius couldn't stand it.

"Well, I wouldn't say the only thing, you did look absolutely dazzling in the dress." A furious blush burned your cheeks as you looked away, a smile pulling at your lips. He was smitten.

"I'm sorry, you know who I am, but I don't know you."

"Me? Why, I'm Julius Novachrono, at your service, your majesty."

"Oh my, I'm sorry! I didn't know I was in the presence of the Wizard King!" You seemed to straighten yourself more and tried to act more posh and proper.

"Oh no, don't apologize, I'm quite unprofessional." You stopped for a second before your strict and stiff manner dropped suddenly when you burst out in laughs.

"I'm sorry, I've never met someone quite like you."

"Yes, well I hope you'll find I'm like no other."

***

Months pass and you only grow closer to the strongest mage. You found his humor to be inappropriate and rather bash but his lack of regard for other nobles and royals is what truly brought you closer.

Right now you both were running away from Marx, Julius had some work to do but it seemed he couldn't do much of it anymore with you running around his thoughts. Some more coarse and indecent than others. He couldn't rid himself of thoughts of you filling his ears as you raced down the halls together, Marx and guards close on your tail.

"Your Majesty please-!" But in the blink of an eye, you two were gone. Teleported to a little cabin sitting in the woods hundreds of miles away. It wasn't the first time Julius had taken you here before. It was your little safe haven. You found it when Julius spirited you away from the kingdom one late night to watch a meteorite shower on a tall hill. A blanket and a basket had been laid out for you two, with a candle already lit.

"Julius?" You questioned. Turning to find him with a few flowers in his hand.

"I must admit, Your Majesty, you've thrown me through quite the whirl, and continue to do so." He whispered, twirling the little flowers in his hand. You walked over slowly, reaching out to fix the chain that held his coat on and together. It always seemed to twist and tangle throughout the day and you seemed to always find yourself fixing it.

"I told you to call me Y/n." You answered, not knowing how to answer such a confession. You liked the Wizard King, a lot more than you should have, but knowing Augustus- this would get you both killed. He chuckled and grabbed your hands, holding them and rubbing at your wrists. It was quiet after that, sort of holding each other before you looked up at him.

"Have I ever told you I love your eyes." His eyes were so warm and they always seemed to sparkle slightly. "They're so gorgeous..."

You didn't know who moved first but you could never forget the moment Julius' lips touched yours. Soft and endearing he kissed you, tenderaly wrapping his arms around you and bringing you closer. You kissed for a few minutes before pulling away and setting down, wrapped up in each other and enjoyed the shower.

After, you decided to go on a walk and found the abandoned cabin. It was in a small clearing protected by massive amounts of mana. Small purple flowers enveloped the little cottage, glowing softly and illuminating the soft surroundings.

"Did you..?" Julius shook his head, looking on with as much excitement and amazement as you.

Looking at it now the cottage had excelled each of your expectations. When you and Julius returned from your night, he had sought for the owner of the cabin only to find it had been abandoned for sometime. He bought it without hesitance and without telling you too. He only began to dread the idea after, what if this was moving too fast? Hell, you were already married to the king, what was he doing? But one night when you had been hanging out in his office, helping him with anywork you could understand, you found both the billings and structural reports for it.

"What's this?" Julius knew what was in your hands the moments he looked up from his own pile of papers. "Is this- Julius?" Your head shot up with a huge smile stretched across your face.

"You bought it!" Before he could even blink, your arms were around his neck and your lips on his. He couldn't waste a single second, gripping you tight he kissed you back with fever. He had been thinking of your lips everyday since that night and was ready to risk everything to feel them, thankfully you had no problem kissing him first.

"Now we have to decorate!"

You both would sneak away to clean it up and trim back plants. You wanted to keep it mostly natural because it was gorgeous that way, but of course, you had to make sure the foundation was secure and safe to stay on. The house was already in pretty good shape, just some dusting and furnishing and it was already perfect.

***

Walking in the fire was already set, the cabin was warm and welcoming like a fucking hug. It was your little piece of heaven with him. Where you could really be with him. You were sick of it, aching for him while your husband sleeps besides you drunk of liquor and the women he had fucked earlier. It annoyed but and the same time you were thankful he hadn't really tired to put his hands on you besides a little groping.

Tonight you would welcome Julius to your bed and you pretend this was normal. You weren't the Queen and Julius wasn't the Wizard King. You could be together in your little piece of heaven.

***

After dinner and some sitting outside and watching the flowers come to life, you felt it was time. You stood from your seat and set your glass besides Julius' on his side table. He looked up at you, curious and almost innocent looking- but you knew more than anything he wasn't and touch close to innocent.

"Y/n?" He leant back in his seat, almost as if he knew what you were going to do all along, and then it struck you. You straddled him with a laugh and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"You knew where this was going all along didn't you?" you questioned, a smile pulled on your lips.

"I admit, I was worried when you said you wanted to get away for a few days."

"Worried?"

"I thought... I thought you might want to stop and I- I just wanted to be prepared, so I know." You cupped his cheeks, leaning forward you kissed him.

"I never want to stop. Never." He smiled and kissed you kissed you back, his hands were hot on your hips and slide up your back, one going to tangle in your hair. You pulled back for air and ground your hips slightly, tightening your thighs around him. You didn't mean to but it felt good. Julius nipped at your neck and growled against your ear,

"Again," You did, again and again and again. The friction felt good, and lit and little fire that filled your veins and warmed your belly, but you need more. Gripping his hair you pull him back from kissing against your neck and collar bone, panting hard and griping him tightly.

"Bed, now." You found yourself against your sheets before you could blink, Julius was above you, staring at you seriously.

"Are you sure about this? I mean if anyone-

"I've never been more sure of anything else in my life, Julius." You pressed back and lifted the simple dress you had been wearing and threw it the side. You shrank a little in graze and even went to wrap your arms around your free breasts but he pushed forward and kissed the tops of them, kissing lower and lower before his lips wrapped around your bud sucking softly and skimming his teeth against it just right. Gripping his hair, it took a little to hold back your small cries, sensitive to such a new feeling. He showered both tits with attention before kissing down your naval and pulling your panties down your legs. Julius leaned back a little and watched as you tentatively opened your legs, embarrassed to be beared open and dripping.

"God, you're gorgeous." Julius leaned forward to kiss up your thighs leading to your centre. He blew lightly against your clit and you tensed before relaxing, only to be surprised by the soft glide of his tongue up your slit.

"Oh- J-Julius!" Your head falling back against the sheets as your hand tangles in his blonde hair . It went all like that for a few minutes before you felt Julious push in to you, making you tense and grip him a little tighter. He pulled away and kissed at your thigh, waiting for you to relax before moving his finger.

"It's okay," You let out a breath and whined, he curled his against you and rubbed just right making you rock your hips against his hand in a gentle rhythm. "That's it.." Julius climbed up and kissed at your neck, thumb moving to rub against your clit.

It wasn't anything crazy, just a moment, goosebumps covered your skin and your breathing stopped for a few seconds, head blank and fuzzy you moaned, releasing a small burst of fire in your belly, relaxed against the sheets. Feeling a little tired you peeked your eye open to see Julius looking down in slight concern but nonetheless content.

"Do you want to stop?" He asked, kissing gently at your shoulder.

"No, come here." You turned his head and captured his lips, pulling him between your legs more comfortably. He pressed against you gently before pushing in, gentle and slow he waited for you. He ground against you, testing, and was pleased to hear the small moan leave your lips. He pulled back and thrust, loving the way your arms gripped at him.

"Please, just a little faster," You whispered pleadingly in his ear, he couldn't take it, and he did go faster and just a little harder. He wanted nothing but to ruin you, months of pent up frustration waiting to be released, but there was time for that later, right not it was for you.

"Julius!" You cried and angled perfect thrust, hitting a spot that sent your stomach in knots. "T-There-!" It didn't take long for you to cum again with the aimed thrust. Griping at his back, you clawed down his back a little, this time it was more intense, making you squeeze your legs around him.

The feeling of you cumming on his cock had him there in seconds, he pulled out fast and finished on your stomach and breasts. He wanted nothing more than to cum inside you and see you dripping with his seed, but he couldn't risk you getting pregnant. Not yet.

Julius settled besides you as you too caught your breath. You turned and cuddled into his side, pulling the top sheet over you. Julius' arm came to wrap around you and pull you closer. You felt him draw shapes against your back, soothing you to sleep.

"Julius?"

"Mhmm?"

"I love you." His fingers paused and he turned to look down at you. He gripped your chin gentle and kissed you, softly and timely, he pulled back.

"I love you too."

[pomegranates-and-blood]

ἀλήθεια (Chapter 1, Vοσταλγία AU)

ἀλήθεια Masterlist

Pairing: Freydis/Reader, Ivar/Reader (past)

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: The usual, plus like a lot of angst, a lot of it. (Sort of, I’m not very good with death/violence) graphic descriptions of death.

A/N: The first part of the AU of Nostalgia for Freydis/Reader! This is a deviation from Chapter 37, so beware for spoilers, and also...prepare for pain. Anyhow, I hope you like this!

She finds you sitting on that same clearing from so long ago, sitting almost in the same place. Only this time, you are twirling your wedding ring on your finger.

It is still clear as day, the memory of that time she found you praying on that small clearing, the mark of tears on your face doing nothing to diminish the fire in your eyes. She remembers, because that is the night she realized there was something more to you, something more to the way she saw you, something more to the way she felt greedy and possessive over your attention, something more to the way she felt about you.

Fitting, she supposes, that it was that night when you told her Ivar was forcing you to marry him. She never doubted something back then she called love -now knows better, and calls obsession, calls need, calls selfishness- was what made him bring you to Kattegat, and so Freydis wasn’t really surprised to hear he intended to make you his wife.

It still hurt. If she is honest, it still does.

She remembers what you looked like that night, the defeated edge and the anger and the desperation. She remembers what your hand felt like in hers, warm and tethering and hers. She remembers the way you lived up to the name they give you when you pulled promises of helping you escape from her lips, as if she were under a spell -and maybe she was, maybe she still is-.

And just like that night she approaches silently even though she knows you are aware of her presence, and just like that night her heart pulls in her chest.

Freydis is used to your pain, she is used to your anger; she has been a witness to both many times before.

But this, this is nothing like pain, nothing like anger. This is devastation, and wrath.

She never saw devastation quite like the one that is written in the way your spine isn’t as straight anymore, in the way your voice cracks and breaks and you still talk, in the way you tell her the Greeks were attacked, and they will be attacked again.

There’s a strange air around you, like all that is alive and warm comes to die willingly at your feet, like through the cracks of your broken heart seeps in all the warmth of the earth as if to try to heal it.

Freydis still sits by your side, shoulder to shoulder.

She asks by whom.

And she can’t help but think she has never actually seen wrath before, not until now, not until she sees the gentleness in your eyes fade away in but a breath, not until your expression -always so honest, so alive- gives in to nothingness, not until she hears none of the usual warmth when you say Ivar.

And she realizes maybe it isn’t willingly that the warmth comes to die at your feet, but that your touch that has given so much is also capable -willing- to take it all, even life; and maybe it isn’t a soft heart needing the earth to tend and mend it, but it is the woman that had wars started and ended in her name -for a chance at her love- that demands the world pay for the mistake of trying to break her.

Many times she has looked at you and thought of the spring you always spoke so fondly of. She thought of warmth and gentle breezes and flower crowns.

She looks at you now and thinks of the rage of a storm clouding the skies and ravaging the warm earth with strikes of hail and lightning, she thinks of thorns and poison ivies and vines wrapped tightly around the throats of the undeserving, and yet in the devastation and the wrath there’s still you.

And she reaches for your hand.

You hold hers back so tightly she still feels the ghost of your touch when you’ve left her behind, your back straightened once again, but your eyes dead -so dead, so unlike yours- when you go to face the King.

____

She waits for the world to shake and tremble, she waits for Kattegat’s streets to be a swirl of madness as they did when you were made queen, she waits for word to spread of how the queen has died at the hands of her husband.

She waits, but nothing happens. The earth isn’t split in two, even though she knows you are.

A part of her, a part of her that grows stronger with each passing moment since you left that clearing, begs her to go to the longhouse. She knows she could never kill him -but she wants to-, she knows she couldn’t even try to fight him -but she needs to-.

She doesn’t want to leave you alone.

Night falls, and she tries sleeping, even if her body feels jittery and something in the back of her mind reminds her why she always found ways to hold on to small bits of control. Because there is men like him, and there’s monsters like him, that are willing and able to take everything from her, in ways that are worse than she ever imagined, in ways she can do nothing against.

She stands in front of you, watching you as you carefully finish braiding together a wreath of flowers. The distant door to the longhouse is forced open, and your hands still.

“My love, where are you?” He calls out, and Freydis watches, unable to move, as you close your eyes where you stand and take a deep breath. A cleansing breath. A last breath.

The wreath of flowers falls from your hand.

You start walking, and it feels as if thick vines trap her, but she still fights, she still tries reaching you, pleading with you not to go.

“I’m here.” You tell him, eerily calm.

“Come here,” Ivar calls, still slightly manic, still lost and erratic as big eyes look over you. Freydis takes steps twin to yours, but feels like she is watching from afar when he extends a hand, “I need you.”

Freydis cries and pleads, screams and rages, but neither of you listen. She wishes you could just listen, because…she knows how this tale goes, she knows how this ends.

He kisses you, and for the first time she wishes that kiss to never end. His hand caresses the side of your face, and for the first time she pleads he holds you close and you let him.

But he turns you around in his grip, your back to his chest, his nose buried in your hair as he whispers something Freydis can’t hear, but that she knows doesn’t matter. Won’t matter.

Because she knows what happens now. She doesn’t know how, but she knows.

And all she can do is watch.

The scream is caught in her throat as she watches pull tight at the metal cord, choking you. You both fall to the ground, but it is Freydis who breaks.

You fight, of course you do, and she claws and tears at herself trying to reach you, trying to save you. But she can’t, and your neck bruises and bleeds, your body loses its strength, and your gasps and whimpers fade to nothing.

You fade to nothing.

There’s a deafening moment of silence that follows the moment she realizes you are no longer in this world, a moment where she realizes there is a world without you and she is stuck living in it, a moment where at the fading of your voice and your laughter it feels like it is the rest of the world that has died instead.

She watches, frozen and trembling, as Ivar sits up. Her stomach churns at the way your head lolls lifelessly at the movement. She wants to scream, she wants to fight, she wants to…Gods, please, anything but this.

Shaking fingers move your hair away from your face, but Freydis cannot focus on how that makes her feel sick, and the king’s body is shaken by cries that sound more like a wounded animal’s than a man’s, but Freydis cannot find it in her to think it fitting for a monster.

No, all she can focus on is the metal around your neck. It looks so much like chains.

You died with chains around you. She remembers your voice, quiet and warm, telling her about the thing you feared the most about death; and she has to look at your dead body and remember she will never hear your voice again, and that she failed at keeping you from dying how you most feared: chained.

She wakes up screaming, and blindly stumbles out of the room, towards the entrance of the home. She has to find you, she has to-…

“She won’t die, child of Freyja,” A voice behind her says, and she turns around with a gasp, finding a woman sitting on one of the flimsy chairs with all the poise of who sits on a throne. Her blind eyes feel all-seeing as the woman tilts her head to the side, so reminiscent of…you. “Her death isn’t his to have.”

The woman smiles, and only then Freydis notices the way her full lips are stained with a shade of red that looks sweet.

She blinks, and the wooden roof of her bedroom greets her. She closes her eyes, clutching the pendant that hangs from her neck, and tells herself everything will be alright.

She was always a good liar, after all.

____

“Tomorrow, there will be-…I will be dead tomorrow,” You explain, and though Freydis feels her heart squeeze in her chest, you speak too calmly to be considering your own death. A deep breath, and, “A thrall, she…she looks like me, she will be dead in our-…in his bed come morning. Ivar will know it’s not me, of course, but…tis not something one survives, leaving Ivar the Boneless, everyone knows that.”

Freydis bites back words -accusations, really- that you are still protecting him, protecting his pride, his image, his reputation. That you are still trying to find a way to spare him the pain.

You breathe something that in a life before this could have been a chuckle, but now only sounds bitter and broken.

“Kattegat will see its queen die, I’m sure that surprises no one. Especially with a…a foreign witch on the throne of a realm she never belonged to.”

“You’re leaving.” The shieldmaiden states, instead of replying to your strange and manic words. Freydis is almost grateful she speaks, because she knows you would have kept on talking.

You meet Valdís’ gaze and in your eyes shines what in a weaker woman would be desperation. But all Freydis sees is determination, and relentlessness, and the stubbornness of something warm and alive trying to survive the winter.

“I have no choice. These are my people, he-…I need to return to those who are still alive. If I wait any longer…if I wait, I may not have life or freedom to make this choice, Valdís,” You raise your chin, but the tears clog your throat and make your voice break. Still, you push on, a rueful smile on your lips, “You know to me there isn’t a difference in losing either.”

The shieldmaiden nods, what Freydis would swear are tears shining in her pale eyes, and embraces you tightly. You barely move to return the embrace, and she has a feeling she understands why.

“I love you, witch. May we meet in the life after this one.”

You look up at Valdís broad frame, and your expression trembles, your breath trembles past your lips in a sob you mask in a pitiful and bittersweet laugh that whispers what you cannot, it won’t happen, not to us, Valhalla and the Underworld will never be one and the same.

“If my mother-…if you ever meet Sieghild, if she returns here,” You close your eyes as you step back, “Tell her I couldn’t survive till the spring. Tell her I love her, and that I hope her Gods and mine keep her.”

Valdís nods her head again, the clear tell of gritted teeth as she looks away from you.

You approach Freydis, and she sees some of your resolve crumble, as if the goodbye hurts you as much as it would hurt her.

“Freydis…”

“Don’t say goodbye,” She advises you, stepping forward. “I am not leaving you alone.”

Your lips part, something quite close to a sob leaving your throat. Still, you shake your head. Stubborn woman.

“N-No, Freydis, I can’t...I can’t ask this of you.”

It is foolish, since you remind her now more than ever of the skittish and distrusting woman that was first brought to Kattegat; but Freydis still reaches forward, grasps your hand in hers.

“Wherever your Gods or mine take you, I shall be at your side,” She vows, as quietly as she can, looking directly into your eyes. Her mind was made long before she even told you those words for the first time. “I swore by it. You aren’t alone.”

You return the hold of your hand on hers, and that is all the answer she needs. With nothing but the clothes at her back and an amulet of Freyja hanging from her neck, Freydis leaves it all behind.

____

She feels like you have been on the run for an eternity, it feels like her legs burn from days of walking, and her body is being pulled to the earth by unseen vines wrapped around her.

By the way you lean against a tree and take careful breaths, she would think you feel the same. But then she catches the faraway look in your eyes as you look back at the direction you came from, and even if you are so far now from Kattegat that this isn’t even considered its border anymore Freydis knows to you it feels like it is still behind you, breathing down your neck.

You meet her eyes, and she doesn’t hesitate to straighten her back and motion for you to continue walking. She doesn’t mind walking for as long as she has to, not for you.

You find a hunter’s camp near the city you say the Greeks had settled at, and you silently agree to spend the night there.

Before the dim fire you two are able to start, Freydis sits and watches the shadows battle the light of the flames, darkness and light, life and death, fighting for the bigger portion of your soul.

The tears make a silent trail down your cheeks as you twirl the golden ring in your hand. The engraved flowers seem to mock you, standing out even more now that the ring is dirtied and muddied from days on the run.

“Did I make a mistake?” You ask her, big eyes filled with a mix of nostalgia and hope she is so used to seeing in your gaze, but that now more than ever, maybe because so much has changed and so much remains the same, it breaks her heart all the more.

And she doesn’t have an answer to give you. She wishes she could tell you coming back would be the right choice, that there’s more waiting at your back than whatever you are facing now. She wishes she could tell you that it was the right choice to leave it all, that you belong to Greece and that there is hope to be found after all that has happened.

But she can’t do either of those things, because she doesn’t know.

And how she wishes she did, if only to make the lost look in your eyes disappear, if only to somehow protect you from the desperate and broken hope that makes your breaths shallow.

“Do you think you did?” Is what she asks instead.

You meet her eyes, unwavering. And shake your head.

Your answer breaks you further than any of hers could, and your face crumples in pain.

It isn’t just the fear of them finding you what keeps you quiet, it is grief cutting any sound from leaving your throat even as you bow your back and part your lips in a scream. The rage and the pain threaten to break you at the seams, and desperate hands clutch at your hair, your own arms wrapped around you as you fold in over yourself, as if to keep yourself together.

All Freydis can do is put her own arms around you, bring you close to her and let you shake and cry and break.

Your breaths never find a regular pattern, scattered and shaking, more labored and pained whenever your hands tighten and you feel the press of that damn ring against your skin. You never lose the tension in your frame, not once in the whole night does your pain leave you for long enough to let you rest, you hold yourself tightly and desperately under your own control.

You tell her it hurts, you tell her you have been torn apart, and the way your voice breaks and shakes around the shape of her name makes her wish she had anything other than quiet and warmth to give you.

When the first rays of the new day try piercing the darkness of the forest around you, there’s a defeated kind of resilience to the way you stand up and walk away.

She moves to follow, but you tell her to stay and rest, and that you will return soon.

When you do, there isn’t a ring in your finger anymore.

____ ____ ____

So, what do you think?

Ivar attacking the Greeks is something I considered a lot for the plot of Nostalgia, but it was something so unforgivable that I couldn’t put in the main story, so here goes. I hope you like this Freydis, and idk, that you like the pairing. Of course they won’t get there anytime soon cause Reader truly loved Ivar and is going to have to grieve that relationship, but I like these two together, a lot.

Enough rambling! Please let me know what you think! Also, if you don’t want to be tagged in this AU, lemme know! I know Freydis isn’t for everyone, so feel free to ask me to take you off the list for this one! Love ya!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @heavenly1927​ @toe-vind-ek-jou​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @pieces-by-me​ @angelofthorr​ @samsationalwilson​ @peachyboneless​ @1950schick​ @punkrocknpearls​ @ietss​   @itsmysticalmystery​ @revolution-starter​ @chibisgotovalhalla​ @the-a-word-2214​ @fae-sedai​ @crazybunnyladysworld​   @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside​ @aprilivar​ @msrawog​  

[wholesomemendes]

ok here me out, shawn and the reader fic but based on the scene from Hercules where they’re in the garden and they fall in love with each other

Author’s Note: I might have strayed a little bit away from the Hercules scene, but the main concept of them falling in love in the garden is still there. I love Hercules so this was extremely fun for me to write and I hope you like it as well! As always, please feel free to leave feedback and tell me what you think!

Warnings: I think there’s one swear word maybe, I’m not sure. There’s really no warnings

There was a calming feeling surrounding the private garden, the moon illuminating the night with its bright light. You could hear the sound of crickets chirping in the distance and the occasional fish that swam its way up to the surface of the small pond. The air smelled crisp and you took a deep breath, allowing yourself to close your eyes while you sat on the old metal bench.

“Fancy seeing you around here.” You jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, eyes opening to be met with him looking as dashing as ever. A white tunic adorned his body that displayed a fair amount of his beautiful chest and his dark green riding pants hugged his legs in all of the right places, making it hard to look away from him. Once you somehow managed to tear your eyes away from his breathtaking body you were met with his honey brown eyes piercing into you, a cocky smirk playing on his lips.

“That’s strange, I vaguely remember you inviting me here with you tonight, your majesty.” The corner of your lips created a small smirk of your own and you watched as he fought back a smile, lightly bumping your hip with his own so he could sit next to you.

“Did I now?” Shawn turned to face you, maneuvering his body so that he could comfortably cross his legs with his arms resting along the back of the bench. One of his fingers began toying with a loose strand of your hair, eyes focused on how he was wrapping it around himself, “You have the most beautiful hair.”

You tried to will the blush off your cheeks to no avail, secretly hoping that the darkness of the night would cover it up. “Thank you, I must say yours isn’t half bad either,” you remarked, a hand coming up to lightly tug at the long curl that always seemed to fall in front of his face, watching as it bounced back when you released it from your grasp.

“Not half bad? Please, I know you’re in love with my hair.”

You feigned shock, playfully rolling your eyes when the smirk returned to his face, “In love with your hair? I don’t think so. Just because every girl in the kingdom is swooning over you doesn’t mean I am.”

“Yeah, sure. Says the person that was ogling at my body when I arrived.” He let out one of his sincere laughs when you dropped your head to hide from his gaze, mumbling out a “Wasn’t ogling” that was barely heard by him. “‘S ok, I like when you stroke my ego. You can do it whenever you want.”

“Shut up,” you whined, turning your head away from him with a pout on your face, arms coming up to cross on your chest defensively. “Oh, come on. Look at me. Touch my hair, ‘s only fair when my hand is fully in yours.” You didn’t even realize that his fingers were no longer twirling a single strand, but rather completely encased by your hair while he rubbed gentle circles on the back of your head. It was normal.The small touches, the gentle teasing, the light hearted flirting, it was all something that you would find the two of you doing if you happened to see him visiting you in your parents’ bakery or sitting with you while you read your newest book inside of the library. It wasn’t everyday that the prince came into town, so even though you hated all of the jealous stares from the Prince Shawn fanclub, you let it slide when he brought in extra business to the bakery.

He lightly grabbed your wrist, causing you to look him in the eyes as he brought your hand to his hair. You ran your fingers through his thick curls, not missing when his eyes fluttered at the feeling. “Is this why you invited me here?” you asked, watching as he furrowed his brows in confusion at your question, “The petting?”

“Not exactly,” he laughed, “Just wanted to see you again...but I don’t mind the petting, if that’s what you want to call it.” Your fingers had been through his hair a handful of times, it was hard to resist when it looked so soft while he was laying next to you as you read your book under the big oak tree. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you and you tried your hardest to keep your gaze on his hair, which proved to be a challenge when his eyes were busy studying every single piece of your face. His hand made its way out of your hair to brush a stray piece out of your face before he stood up, extending a hand for you to take. Yours fit perfectly into his much larger one somehow, even if his completely engulfed yours. His hands were rough from all of his training and horse riding, but it only made it feel better when it was intertwined with yours.

The two of you walked down the winding path of the garden, a path you both knew by heart by now. Shawn had brought you here for the first time a few months ago, but you had made your way to the garden by yourself more times than he knew. He had told you that it was his safe place to get away and just think about life and you could see why. Something about the tranquility made your thoughts run wild and more often than not you found yourself sitting by the old, broken fountain replaying the moments you had with Shawn and trying to diminish your feelings towards him.

He swung your hands back and forth as you walked, fingers mindlessly rubbing on the back of your palm. “What’s on your mind?” he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

“I can practically see the gears turning in your head, love. What are you thinking about?”

You hated how your heart fluttered at the nickname, but deep down inside you wanted him to say it again. “‘S nothing. My thoughts are just wandering.” He let out a noise of approval at your words as you continued down the path towards the old fountain and you wondered if you should ask him the question that had been on your mind for the past two weeks, “How did things go with Princess Natalia?”

If the confusion on his face wasn’t answer enough, his first question was, “Who?”

“You know, the princess that was visiting you for the past two weeks? The one that literally just left today?”

“Oh right, her name was Natalia,” he laughed nervously, his free hand coming to scratch the back of his neck, “Yeah, um, she was horrible. I’m so glad she’s gone.”

You couldn’t help the relieved feeling that took place in your chest at his disinterest in her. The princess had been visiting from the kingdom over in hopes of arranging an engagement between her and Shawn that would create an alliance between the two kingdoms. “She is very beautiful, though.”

“I guess, but her personality is absolute shit.”

“Don’t think that’s the way a prince should talk about a princess.”

“Well it should be because I don’t know how else to describe her.” He sighed as the two of you approached the fountain, taking a seat on the stone exterior, “I’m so sick of all of this engagement stuff. I don’t know when my father will understand that I don’t want to marry some empty-headed blonde with a kingdom that needs our help.”

“He just wants what’s best for you and the kingdom,” you reasoned with him, although you were fully on his side, “It’s what happened to him when he was your age and I’m not saying it’s right, but you’re going to be crowned king in a few years and I think he just wants you to have a queen by your side.”

“Yeah, well if we’re talking about making someone a queen it needs to be someone that I trust to rule by my side, not someone who makes me want to tear my hair out every three seconds.” You giggled lightly at his response, taking your time to admire his side profile as he sat beside you. “Besides,” he began, threading his fingers through yours once again since they had released when the two of you had sat down, “I want to marry out of love. The world is changing and I think it’s pointless to have these precedents that are only put in place to make me absolutely miserable.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Am I? Wouldn’t you feel the same if someone was taking away your chance at true love?” His gaze fell back to you, turning his body so that his eyes bore into yours. You were momentarily lost in his eyes as your heart beat at a rapid pace. “Don’t you want that?”

“What?”

“A chance at true love?”

“Of course, what girl doesn’t want that. But I don’t think I’ll get it, no one is exactly lining up to marry their sons off to a poor baker’s daughter.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” he whispered as he used a finger to gently push your chin back to look at him, “How much money you have doesn’t have anything to do with your worth. Also, I love your parents bakery, I think they make the best pastries I’ve ever had.”

A soft smile appeared on your face and you looked up at him through your lashes, “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not, I’ve never lied to you.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Swear on my life I haven’t, I always tell you the truth.” His eyes flickered across your face that was illuminated by the moon, only making you look even more angelic to him, “God, you’re so beautiful.”

“Stop,” you whined, turning your face away from him sheepishly.

“Hey, hey, you need to stop hiding that pretty face of yours.” Shawn grabbed your chin in between his pointer and thumb, not bothering to let go once you were facing him, “I think I know why no one’s asked to marry you yet.”

“Oh do you now? Please enlighten me oh wise one.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to be sentimental,” he laughed as his hand came up to rest on your jaw, “But I’m one hundred percent sure of my reasoning. You’re too good for them. Those boys in town don’t deserve you at all.”

“Wow, that really opens up my options then. What am I supposed to do? Live alone my whole life tending to the chickens?”

“No,” he whispered, his face inching ever so slightly closer to yours, “You’re supposed to live in a palace for the rest of your life with a crown on your head.”

“What do you mean-” you were cut off by his lips landing gently on yours. While your mind didn’t seem to know how to react, your body did for your lips began to slowly move in unison with his. It was short and innocent, but it was enough to leave your mind reeling when he pulled back, resting his forehead on yours.

“Tell me you don’t feel it too and I won’t ever bring this up again. Just tell me that I’m crazy and you don’t feel the way I do when we’re together,” he breathed out, his free hand that wasn’t on your face grabbing yours to bring it to his beating heart.

“Of course I do, I’ve always felt it.”

“So have I, it’s why I always sent those princesses away. I felt like I had a chance at true love right under my nose.”

“But I’m not a princess, Shawn. What would everyone say if they found out you were with someone that’s not of royalty.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to make you my princess,” and with that he reconnected his lips to yours, already envisioning how breathtaking you’d look with his crown on your head.

[ktheist]

saving grace | 3

muses. duke!yoongi x lady!reader

universe. arranged marriage / minor traces of magic in history

concept. driven into a corner with the new king, seokjin, offering to marry you off to a prince in a foreign land and a persistent mother who would seize the chance of a lucrative marriage for her daughter, you’re forced with the only other option to secure your freedom ‒ enter into a beneficial agreement with the man who reaped the seeds of war, the duke of cralon, yoongi min.

words. 5.3k

warnings. mentions of war, it’s cliche and cheesy all in one package

index. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / finale

x

yoongi doesn’t explicitly say it - and you don’t dare inquire as to the reason he’s accepting the circumstances forced into his hands but the more you ponder on it, the more the plausible answer seems to be the cause of your palpitating heart.

“we’ll attend the party together,” his breath had felt warm against the back of your hand but its the callousness of his touch that rooted yourself to the ground.

yoongi is doing this because he can’t let you ruin yourself. call it the gentleman in him. nothing more. nothing less. and because of that, you couldn’t allow yourself to be the one to rope him into a loveless marriage  in the name of politics when it’s been clear that he wants no part in this game of chess.

“leslie,” you speak into the darkness, fingers pulling on the strings that tie the cloak together.

“yes, my lady.” a figure steps out of the shadow in your periphery.

“i need you to pay a visit to the other informant guilds and see if they have something on what the nobles that are to attend my party, have been doing in the last three months.”

not like they’d have anything you don’t but you can’t rule out the possibility that they’d have even the littlest detail that could be of great help.

“three months, my lady?” leslie quizzes, you can’t see her face in the dark but you can just picture her blinking and cocking her head to the side at your prescribed timeline.

three months is a gamble but enough to establish a routine. whether it’s walking by the park everyday and then stopping to chat with a man in black from head to toe once on every 25th. or whether it’s for attending gatherings, only to keep the 16th fully empty.

“yes and prepare a carriage to go to the royal palace today.” with that, the shadow shifts as though bowing.

“i shall let felix know promptly. since you’ve just returned, would you like to take a short nap first?”

your gaze slants to the slightest gap between the curtains that you just slipped through, amber light pouring in a sharp stripe over the floor, “no, i’d like to take a bath and prepare for the day - did anyone come to my room while i was gone?”

“the madam came last night,” the maid informs, hands folding the cloak that she helped took of your shoulders, “but i told her you were sick and wanted to rest.”

“did she believe you?” walking over table, you plop into the chair with a sigh.

“she left after i told her you were asleep.” she disappears into the closet after you wave a dismissive hand, possibly to store the cloak in the secret compartment within the innermost corner of the walls.

knowing your mother, she probably saw through leslie’s lies but it’s not as if it’s the first time nor will it be the last. as long as you made sure to hide your face and avoid any rumors of count ___’s daughter’s sightings in the middle of the night in the rougher part of town, it’s fine.

x

a panting and disheveled jungkook bursts through the towering doors engraved with intricate carvings of a roaring lion and a crown. his eyes widens when they met yours like they usually as though seeing a ghost. you thought his timid nature would go away over time but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“lady ___!” he calls in a hurry after you walked past him and down the familiar hallway lain with blazing red carpet, “h-his majesty is busy! you have to give the palace a month’s notice for an audience before-”

“jungkook.” the abrupt twirl almost sends the boy smashing into you but he manages to stop just inches away, sighing a sigh of relief that only lives for a split second at your words, “his majesty ordered for the rumors to be spread.”

when you take one step forward, he takes another backwards, “you’re his closest aide so he must’ve told you to do it and not some ordinary maid-”

“n-n-no! i-” he sputters, eyes glancing over his shoulders as though seeking for a knight to call for help but the goddess must be in your favor today because no other soul can be seen.

you’re not sure what kind of face you’re making but you doubt it’s a smile but the fact that all colors seem to drain when he looks at you again must mean something, “it was lady jung! his majesty called for lady jung and after that, the rumors started spreading!”

“krystal?”

a sigh escapes the black haired boy when your feet roots itself into the ground. the jung family had been part of the aristocratic faction who tried to push for their daughter and krystal’s eldest sister to marry the crown prince, seokjin’s brother and heir apparent.

but only those who secretly swear allegiance to seokjin could attain an exclusive invite to the palace and jungkook had explicitly mentioned that it was seokjin who called her over, not the other way around.

“lady ___! please!” jungkook’s cries echo somewhere behind you, almost drowned by the series of questions that begin to flood your head.

“your majesty!” your hands ache from having to push through the oak doors after jungkook orders the knights to stand down at your arrival, which meant they had no obligations to announce your presence nor push the doors open for you, “you’re throwing yoongi and i into a cage full of wolves!”

“oh you two are calling each other by first names now?” the way seokjin's eyes glazes over you does nothing but pour oil to the flames burning inside your stomach, “regardless, i thought we agreed to cease this act of prancing around in the palace like you own the place.”

a thud echoes off the walls as your barely recovering hand slams down on his desk, but judging from how the stack of papers stood still, you doubted it’d made the desirable impact, “if you knew i was lying, why didn’t you call me out?!”

“i can’t say i didn’t fall for it in the beginning but weren’t you the one who told me that information can be gathered and used like a sword?” seokjin’s steel gaze settles on you like a blanket of winter snow.

“that...” thrown off by the your own words used against you, a pause lapses before you manage to speak again, “i may have made a mistake by involving yoongi but this ends here. call off the party i- i’ll marry the 12th prince.”

a scoff.

“to think you swore to be the shield you’re now holding against me because of that brute cousin of mine.”

“my promise remains the same,” you stand straighter, hit by the reminder of your ordeal, “i'll support you for as long as you stay a just ruler but not if you start a war within cearis by this reckless action of yours.”

his eyes bore into you for the longest moment, searching for a hint of your faltered promise. 

there is none. 

to think it would come to this. when you agreed to help seokjin become the king, you knew you have vastly contrasting ideals but the end goal was the same. to bring peace over cearis and end the previous king’s tyrannic reign.

the previous king hadn’t directly committed murder but the increasing tax rate had slowly caused the economy to be sucked dry. the people couldn’t even afford basic necessity and the rich buying wheat and grains and storing them with the intention to resell them once the price sky-rocketed. up until last year, only nobles were able to still live comfortably.

the thought of the hollowed cheeks, tattered clothing and skin and bones of the people in the streets whenever your carriage passed to get to the tea parties and gathering, still sends your body shaking with rage.

and if a civil war broke out between the two factions, history might repeat itself.

“i’d wanted you to rule by my side as my queen.” seokjin’s blunt confession causes you to almost stumble backwards, as though hit by an invisible brick.

“what-”

“but that’s simply absurd.”

he gingerly chuckles at your apparent reaction, “at least pretend to be disappointed ___, i didn’t want it too- the thought repulses me but since we’ve always been so much alike, we could at least make a political marriage work, right? but when you rejected me so directly, i couldn’t help but want to push you a little. i wasn’t going to go through the marriage with the 12th prince.”

“so all that trouble to get the duke to become my fake fiance... was because your fragile ego couldn’t handle being rejected by a woman?”  you force through gritted teeth.

“i-i didn’t say such a thing,” the king’s eyebrows furrow in undue frustration, face reddening, “plus it’s you, we’re talking about. how could i be-”

“your majesty...” a hiss slips out of your mouth, causing the man to physically flinch at the realization of how dire the circumstances are for him. for one there are no windows to avoid assassination attempts but also means he can’t escape you through any other way but the door - assuming he could get past you at all, “you’ve caused duke min and i a great deal of hardships. it’s something money alone cannot fix, do you not think so?”

“c-calm down, ___,” he begins to sputter whilst the table begins to turn, gaze thrown over your shoulder - perhaps, he’s calculating his chances of survival if he made a beeline to the door,“jungkook! jungkook, let him in!”

almost as if on cue, the muted thud of footsteps fill the air before the door swings open. you have absolutely zero interest if it was an assassin he’d prepared beforehand, knowing that you’d barge your way to the palace. with this distance, even an assassin couldn’t get-

“the house of min greets the sun of the kingdom.”

your heels twirl on their own before you even manage to register the deep voice that echoes off the falls, eyes landing on the owner of the silver locks that begins to straighten up after a bow.

“yoongi.” the man’s name falls off your lips involuntarily as he spares you a chiding glance. almost as though he’s not pleased with your rash decisions of meeting with seokjin without consulting him.

yet despite that, he comes to stand next to you, his hand brushing the back of yours. and in his own way, it feels as though he’s saying i stand with you.

the sound of someone clearing his throat brings you back to the matter at hand. seokjin seems to have regained a semblance of his composure. though, he fails to hide the rise of his eyebrows for the briefest moment at the unusually close proximity for two people who claim to feign being lovers. “as you know, the the min lineage has extraordinary senses. i summoned yoongi over to wait for me in the next room but your crassness has delayed the duke’s audience. and since the walls are thin, i don’t know how much he’s heard.”

your lips twitch in contempt.

it doesn’t take long for you to piece two and two together. no noble family has expressly supported seokjin and with the two aristocratic and royal factions’ internal division, you suspect another faction would rise in support of seokjin, the son who the late king never even spared a glance at.

having aided seokjin in the shadows since his time as an outcast prince, you were never told of the other families that shared the same shoes and chose to support him until the time is right to step into the light. you swore to be his shield and the min family had always been known to be the crown’s loyal sword.

you catch yoongi’s deep eyes before meeting the king’s,“so the min family is one of the noble families who supported you as well.”

it isn’t a question but seokjin nods anyway, his eyes now hold a sort of burden that ages him ten years, “i know your reason for supporting me are too far glaring and what i’m asking you requires a great sacrifice that’ll affect your children, but can i count on the two of you for this?”

x

seokjin meant you might actually have to get married to yoongi legally. at the engagement party, you’ll be showing up as supporters of the king and shift the unending feud between and within the factions. those who have been supporting seokjin in the dark will be your allies while those neutral, like what your house had appeared to be, will not need much convincing to join the new faction - the king’s. though, those who are against his forceful succession won’t stand still.

“it’s getting late so we should stop here but i’ll be visiting soon to finish our little talk, your majesty,” you didn’t miss the king’s shoulder line jolting as you shot up, letting a few seconds stretch in suspense before dipping into a formal bow.

“um, that’s quite fine. you don’t have to-” the man’s mouth clamped shut at the glare you shot over your shoulder before trudging out of the room, the click clack click of your heels bouncing off the walls while you faintly caught seokjin stammering out a plea for help to the only other person left in the room and receiving a ‘you dug your own grave with this one, your majesty’.

yet you couldn’t deny the agreeable course of direction you should take to single out the wild flowers from mere weeds being through a garden party. that’s where politics takes place and where one would usually work out connections. halting in your steps, you found yourself letting out a sigh, the chin you’ve kept so high now lowered to the ground.

after this, there will no longer be an aristocratic and royalist factions - only those who opposes seokjin and those who supports him. the first bunch would no doubt go after you and your family since they can’t touch the duke, if you got divorced within five, no - ten, maybe even twenty years of your marriage. though there have been politically arranged marriages that lasts for a lifetime. while some of the couples seem civil to each other, there would always be speculations of their happiness lying in the arms of their lovers outside of their marriage.

your parents are no exception. though they never quite opened up to you about their past or even present. the only time you ever recall your mother’s heart breaking was when the bells of the palace rang across the capital, signaling the previous queen’s demise.

“how could i not have noticed which faction he’s in...” you trail off, staring into the darkened ceiling where the chandelier would have been and the paintings of a great tree that symbolizes the foundation of your house.

“my lady,” leslie’s fluttery voice chirps from somewhere next to you “get up! today is the day for the duke’s formal visit!”

it’s been a week since your visit to the palace and having been driven to a corner yet again by seokjin. for some reason it didn’t bother you as much as the revelation of that the house of min had always been by the king’s side as a loyal supporter.

yoongi had escorted you to the carriage silently. and you would have left without exchanging a word if not for he gloved hand that grasps onto you tightly and the eyes that bores into your soul. almost imploring you to please, say something.

“since we’re pressed for time, i’ll have the contract sent to you to be reviewed in three day’s time,” was all you said.

your ankles are shackled with invisible cuffs. it takes everything in you not to drag your feet as you strut down the hallway with your chin high and shoulder line dignified.

“right,” you murmur to yourself, pushing yourself up only to have your hand dragged by the maid all the way to the bathtub where warm water has already been filled and waiting for you.

the other maids are already waiting for you with dresses in their hands and jewel boxes littered on your otherwise neatly kept vanity, chattering to themselves about how exciting it is for the only and eldest daughter’s official engagement. granted, your mother has been bugging you about the lack of rock on your finger when every other noblewoman would be showing off their engagement ring as soon as the news breaks out in high society.

but when you step out of the room, donned in an extravagant but elegant dress, you did not expect the overflow of people you’ve never seen before walking towards the main parlor that’s much larger than your mother’s and reserved for entertaining guests. the servants who seem to be carrying boxes and wrapped dresses bow at the sight of you.

“leslie, what’s all this?” you quiz the ever smiling maid on your side even though you have a good hunch already.

“these are the duke’s gifts to you, my lady.” there’s a certain tilt in her voice - the closest indication you’d get of leslie being excited.

“gifts?” you echoe.

the plan was for you to review the other’s contract, make necessary amendments and exchange them in secret.

that is, until yoongi sent a letter to your father, to notify his visit and ‘entourage’. but then again, the duke has always had a knack for downplaying important matters. otherwise, you would have caught on to where his loyalty lies.

before the maid could elaborate further, you’re already in front of the parlor and whisked away by your mother as soon as she sees you.

“___!” she grasps your hands tightly, “how i was mistaken about the duke. his grace was waiting for the siren’s heart to arrive from raefetia!”

colored diamonds are especially hard to get due to the different component and temperature required for its formation. the siren’s heart is said to be a rare jewel that was lost after the siren’s lover was killed on land and the diamond that was with him got sold in the black market.

how yoongi got a hold of it, is not entirely a mystery but the impact of the entourage he brought to your manner and the two jewelers who confirmed it to be the real siren’s heart will, without a doubt, spread throughout the kingdom within a week.

“are these all bought by the duke?” you manage to pull one of the workers who you’d confirmed to be from whitlace, into a corner when your mother is busy salivating over one of the many boxes of jewels that seem to sparkle and call for her.

“th-the duke ask for the jewels to be sent to my lady’s manor and pick whichever my lady’s heart desires,” the slight tremble at the mention of yoongi shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you yet it does. he just hasn’t been looking at you with eyes that could kill.

“is your manager here?” you don’t plan to let the woman be ridden with worry any more than she already is.

as soon as she leads you to a tanned woman with an elegant air around her and the finest jewels adorning her ears and neck, you know that it isn’t just the manager but countess wyvner herself who’d come here.

“lady ___, it’s an honor to meet your acquaintance,” she smiles, her deep brown eyes gleaming with a sort of observance fitting for a woman who runs one of the most high end jewelry store in the kingdom alongside her husband.

“countess,” you say after bowing, “thank you for preparing this on such a short notice.”

a slot itself needs booking at least for one month prior, you can’t imagine how much trouble and setbacks in their schedule they’d have to suffer because of yoongi’s whims. you’d only come to a realization that you’d have to legally marry each other last week. let alone have enough time to prepare for such grand proposal.

“on behalf of my husband and i, it’s an honor to serve the duke and future duchess,” she has a sort of pleasant tone that makes the lady in you listen to anything and everything she says.

you let out a low chuckle, “my, that does put me in a difficult situation.”

the countess blinks in surprise, “how so, lady ___?”

“you see, countess, i specifically asked for the duke to not spend so extravagantly for me,” you lament, a sigh escaping your lips, “as the money could have gone to charity work and helping those in need.”

“ah yes, the house of ___ has been well-known for their generosity since your father’s time,” she agrees, as though recalling a long-lost memory.

it takes several more praises and teetering over the fine line of offensive and modest before you can finally convey your wishes for the jewels to be brought back and as a compromise, the countess will leave only the best, hand-picked diamonds for you to at least look at.

not even five minutes after your conversation with the countess ends, the butler approaches you, informing yoongi’s arrival.

“alright, thank you aiden,” you dismiss the butler, eye skimming the mannequins and dresses piled into the room. whichever store these are from, you’lll have to deal with them later, “bring him to mother’s parlor.”

x

“your grace, thank you for coming,” you greet the man with a bow, noting how his eyebrows threaten to pull together at the title yet only silence follows your greeting.

neither of you say anything as the maid sets down the baked goods you requested to be made for this meeting. the smell of lavender fills your senses as you pour the drink into the white teacup with deep violet flowers engraved around them.

“your grace,” that is possibly the last straw when you see the man’s heavy frown, as though the first time might have been a mistake, but the second time couldn’t have been, so you let out a soft sigh, “i shall address you formally for what i’m about to say involves the state of affair of the kingdom.”

when no word of protest seem to come from the duke, you continue, “i trust your grace has read the contract and made the desired amendments on your part?”

as though recalling the purpose of his visit, the man’s eyes flit away from you. it’s expected for him to behave so, especially when all you’d agreed on at the beginning was a simple hoax to trick the eyes of the beholders. 

out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“that... yes.” he mindlessly mumbles, pulling out the contract from the inside pocket of his jacket and placing it in front of you in a manner that told you he couldn’t be bothered with it for a minute longer.

yet if that was truly the case, he could have sent someone to deliver the contract after the review instead of a notice informing you of his visit. the letters on the contract almost seem to blur together as you mull over his reasons for sitting through a one hour ride just to get here until you catch the insignia of twin dragons and a shield.

“your grace,” your heart almost jumps in your throat when you look up from the paper only to meet a pair of crimson ones that seem to already be staring, “none of the content seem to be modified. is there nothing you wish to add?”

contracts are made to give both parties an equal standings. you’d only included your terms which you made sure weren’t excessive but not potentially harming to you in an event there would be a talk of divorce in the future.

“no, there isn’t.” he answers simply, eyes reverting to the brownish golden liquid before hey flutter close just as he nears the cup to his lips.

all of a sudden, you’re brought back to the sunlit office of his. your hands had trembled and your heart had felt like a dead weight was pulling at its strings until the duke pulled you out of that darkened crevice and kissed the back of your hand.

the act alone had been reserved for lovers who’d sworn their souls to the other. but it’d also been done by noblemen in respect for noblewomen of higher ranking. but the fact that you were a mere count’s daughter and he was a duke rendered the latter interpretation null.

yet he’s acting so indifferently to you now.

“your grace, i implore you to take this matter seriously as it concerns not just the ducal house and ___ house but also cearis.”

no matter how prepared you are, there’s no telling what would happen once seokjin’s plan is set in motion. but even if you’re both nothing but chess pieces, your lives worth something. perhaps, yoongi hasn’t much to lose - but you’ve held out this long to avoid being tangled in an arranged marriage. you need a guarantee for your future and if yoongi refuses to pay his due attention-

“___,” the familiarity of your name rolling off his tongue is unsettling yet comforting at the same time, “isn’t everything that caters to your needs and wishes all in there? why are you displeased?” though the color of his eyes reminds you of burning flames, his gaze sends icy shivers down your spine. as opposed to the way he used to search for the secrets beyond the windows of your soul, this time, he seems as though he’s studied every crevice of it.

it takes you a moment to register that he’d read every line of the terms. and it isn’t a question needing mulling over nor do the flood of memories from your first meeting up until now, is unforeseeable. and you couldn’t help the little prick of betrayal that buries itself to the hilt in your heart,“did you know?”

his stare doesn’t falter. almost like a culprit brought to trial and knows of his innocence even though others don’t, “no- you know how secretive the king is but with the way you’d been behaving at the mention of him... i thought you’d been lovers instead of just subject and monarch.”

in other words, if yoongi knew - which he did have his suspcicions, it was because you’d exposed yourself. the realization hits you like a brick as you recall the many times you almost called seokjin by his name and the one time you actually did.

you figured he’d believe you when you said it was because of your house’s just upbringing but suspicions couldn’t just be shrugged off just like that.

“we’re not.” is all you say, your shoulders threaten to sag with the lifted weight yet the noble blood in you forces you to keep your chin up. those deep eyes bore into you. it’s no secret that even the seemingly indifferent duke of cralon would be curious of how you came to be acquainted with the king when he was just a prince.

truth to be told, it isn’t so much as a mysterious tale as it seems to be. your family’s territory doesn’t harbor fertile lands nor is it strategically situated near the shores for a harbor to be built and attract merchants. it’s a bit far off from the capital but not entirely suitable for planting corps either. and because your family’s refusal to join the royalist faction, the previous king had cut off the supplies and funds for your family’s territory.

your father had to buy food from merchants at a high price while you were in charge of distributing  them all to representatives of each family. in the midst of it, at the age of 16, you’d met seokjin. every time you’d see him, he’d donned the same tattered clothes that didn’t seem to fit his smooth, honeyed skin and noble mannerism.

you didn’t question his motives for always being there to lend another hand to distribute whatever supplies your father could get and leaving without accepting so much as a slice of bread. it was some few years later, after you’ve talked to too many people and remember too little of their faces, did seokjin finally told you about his lowly maid mother and the parents she’d left in pursuit of a job in the capital. it took another year for you to realize his high official dad was the king and by then, you’d sputtered far too many insults at the second prince in your fits of rage.

but if you’re being honest, it possibly had something to do with your mother’s tens of hundreds of letters addressed to the palace, pleading for the king’s good graces. she’d attended social gatherings to obtain funds for charities that went to orphanages, managed to allocate budgets for the supplies and still maintain an appearance fitting for a noblewoman. you did help with pointing out which house had the disadvantage you could use and which could be recruited under your fold but it was mostly your mother - a useless information that yoongi didn’t need to know.

“we started getting more supplies and to shift the suspicion of our family’s support leaning towards the new crown, seokjin started distributing more supplies to noble families of neutral standings,” the thought alone warrants a well needed pause as you sip on cold tea, “after he proposed to me and promised to make me queen, i tried my best to avoid letting the two meet especially at banquets held in the palace.”

“that bastard...” a sharp cracking sound hits the air as you watch the tea ripple within the small confines of the now cracked teacup within the duke’s grasp, “...really had the nerve to propose to you, huh.”

“well,” you set the cup on the saucer gently before standing up and walking over the man who watches you with a mix of curiosity as to what you’re doing and subdued rage for the king.

sitting down, you place your hand on his gloved one. it takes a moment  for him to realize the damage he’d done before he releases the poor ceramic and allow you to twine your fingers together. when you meet his gaze, it’s already soften with something you can’t pinpoint as you suppress the rising heat on your cheeks, “i believe seokjin was telling the truth when he said he was doing it because he had to. at that time, he most likely didn’t know of any other young ladies around his age though there’s no telling for sure just who and how many people was already under his folds,” the hard crimson stare does little to unnerve you though they still make your heart restless for a completely different reason now.

yoongi laughs dryly, almost like a swords mater defeated in his own game, “so we’re merely tools for his disposal.”

that, you can’t deny but no matter how deep you’d pondered on the man’s actions and how much you’d have to sacrifice-

“yet we still trust him like blind fools.” you say.

“fools won’t know what they’re getting into before it’s too late,” he rasps.

words of protest bubbles in your throat as his hand falls away from you but the way he stands up only to fall on his knee, makes your breath hitch.

“we’re no fools, you and i,” his eyes that capture you in a garden of red are glaringly contrasting to his fair complexion and naturally soft features, “___, i do not wish to be married to you only on paper.”

x

note. that’s all for the third chapter, hope you guys enjoyed it!

taglist: @ayujmi​

[adulttrio-imagines]

Hey, you did a couple of headcanons of the adult trio amd how much they would care/react to their s/o leaving them. Could you please do a scenario where Hisoka see’s her for the first time post breakup? Like he wasn’t actively looking for her, but now that she’s here, might as well have some fun, right? Bonus points if she’s also a hunter. I love you and your writing this blog is a blessing. Keep up the great work!

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be here of all places, love.”

Fate is a funny thing. You remember thinking briefly. For just a moment, you could have sworn feeling time spinning to a stop as you became distinctly aware of the salt from the sea, the lightness of the breeze, the itch of the rough wood scratching against your bare thighs. Circumstances far beyond your control often came back in circles, perhaps to remind you of your own failings. As if you were nothing more than a balloon, floating blissfully in the sky, before the sudden uptake in pressure crushes you and send you tumbling to the ground.

It is impossible to hide the horror that creeps up your skin and burrows deep into your temples when you hear the low tone of his voice drag itself across your ear. Frozen in your seat, you could only struggle to calm your breaths as he crept up from behind like a thief in the night, casually leaning against the back of the bench as the overwhelming scent of his sickening sweet perfume flooded your senses, allowing panic to creep in.

He grabs a fistful for your hair in his clawed hands, absentmindedly running his fingers through them, slowly inhaling the fresh scent of your shampoo before tossing it away. “It’s been far too long, don’t you say?”

You visibly stiffen, and you can tell he’s smiling, even without looking. You hadn’t expected to see him here, of all places. A quiet little beach town, secluded from major cities and surrounded by thick lush forest and mangroves. Cold sweat brews at the crown of your head, and you twist your hands into the fabric of your clothes to hide the shaking. You had hid your channels, you were so sure you did. Weeks of planning in an effort to erase your existence didn’t come easy, but you thought you succeeded, and had finally won, running away to hide here, undisturbed, away from the hunters, the mafia, and most importantly, from him.

“I can’t say it’s nice to see you again.” Somehow, you find your voice. It’s hoarse from shock, but stronger than how you actually feel. Staring out into the ocean envelops you with a sense of confidence you haven’t had in a long time. You don’t bother turning to face him, even when he leans in close enough that his nose brushes against your ear and his breath is hot down your neck. His nen hasn’t changed a bit, and it swirls around you like poisoned tendrils, crooning veiled threats in your ear. He’s itching for a fight, impatiently shifting from foot to foot as he leans into your ear.

“That makes one of us.” You feel his eyes eating you up, as his nen strokes the curves of your ankles and slowly make their way up to your knees. Even dressed in simple, loose fitting clothes does he leer strangle the breath out of your lungs, and you’re briefly thrown back in time, a cloud of poison squeezing you like rotten fruit as you struggle against his violent choke, squashing out every last bit of fight you had in you.

Your eyes are watering, why is everything getting so dark? It’s hard to breathe, you can’t-

“You’re disgusting.” You motion to move away but he grabs you by the arm, and pulls you back down.

“That’s a terrible thing to say, darling. After how you left me, you can’t expect me to just let you go just like that-“

“Don’t you dare touch me.” The fragile sense of control you have desperately tried to maintain snaps in two. And your own nen explodes in such force that surprises even you, the air itself shimmering from the heat, and a sick sense of pleasure croons within you when shock briefly flashed across his face.

“So, so touchy.” He tuts, regaining composure immediately and withdraws his hand, but remains where he stood, “you still make it very difficult for me to love you.”

You scoff.

“Why is what I do, never enough to satisfy you?”

He smiles, play cards disappearing into thin air. “You’re just impossible for me to love.”

You finally turn to face him, and he looks the same, as if time has stopped flowing for him (it has for a long time). You decide he’s a little less boyish, the broadness of his shoulders better filling out his chest, the blue hair he sports reminds you of the rippling waves at sea and you hate that he now represents another thing you’ve grown to love. But the cruel mocking in his eyes and the way his lips curl haven’t changed since the day you met him.

“If you truly wanted me, you would have found me years ago. Now,” your own nen flares dangerously, slick and potent with rage, and you feel disgust rise in you as sick pleasure twists the handsome features of his face, “What do you want from me?”

He eyes you with an unreadable gaze, and turns to the ocean, letting loose an uncharacteristic sigh, as if you’re overreacting, as if every word, every hit, every warped action he did that corrupted your very sense of self meant nothing (it doesn’t to him).

“I just want to talk.” He finally says, pulling out a worn deck of cards, lazily shuffling through them in easy repetitive motions. You smother the urge to knock them out of his hands.

“Tell me the truth.”

“I am. I’m just here to talk.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” There’s nothing left to say.

He peers curiously at you, yellow eyes glinting under the earning morning sun as he places the cards down on his lap.

“Do you hate me?”

“Yes.” And of course you do, you do, you do. You hate him so much that it breaks you in two and burns everything around you to ash.

His draws a queen of hearts from the deck, absentmindedly twirling it between fingers. “Why do you lie to yourself?”

“It’s the truth. If you can’t accept that it’s not my problem.” To your amazement, your feet don’t shake when you stand up.

“If I can do this,” you remember thinking when you ran away, “I can do anything.”

He doesn’t stop you this time, you follow his gaze and look at the sky. It’s so blue, so vast, so bright, looking at it makes the aching hurt in your chest bloom with such vigor that your vision blurs.

“I really did l-.”

“Stop.” You hold his gaze, a strange coolness wets your cheeks. You’ve decided you didn’t want to hear this. You didn’t want to know this, didn’t want to process this, for hearing his words, hearing him say what you desperately wanted to hear all those years ago would unravel every single thread you’ve sewn to mend the fractured pieces of your sanity back together. Piece by wretched piece, you strung them all back together, even when the needles pierced your skin and your blood stains everything a deep red. At the end of it all, there was no meaning in forcing yourself to hold on to the broken fragments of your relationship

He reaches out to hold your hands, but you hastily bring them behind your back. You don’t need his comfort. You didn’t it then, you don’t need them now.

Instead, you force yourself to look him in the eye. They hold the same exact shade of gold that you love. You loved him, you loved him so much that every gentle touch, every soft smile, every shared joke, every time his lips brush against yours brings back unsaid memories of haunting violence laced with bitter words and stinging slaps that remind you of haunting nights where painful shrieks pool at the base of your throat and you would faint from the exhaustion of it all, burning yourself alive in an attempt to keep up with him.

Until you eventually arose from the ashes, struggling for breath, and flew far, far away to where he could never hurt you again.

And even now, even when you finally face him as an equal (it’s a lie, he sold his humanity a long time ago), you cannot find it in yourself to spill those hurtful words you wanted to all those years ago.

And for years, it was only silence.

He could have found you if he wanted, but he didn’t. Like everything else, you just weren’t worth his time.

You look at the sky again, the salt from the sea mingling with the sweetness of chopped coconuts as the laughter of children fills you with so much warmth that you actually smile when you look at him.

He hasn’t changed at all. From his elaborate clothes, to the painted highlights of his cheeks, while time stood still for him, it continued to flow for you, building you walls and your strength, so that you could now see him for what he always was.

“I’m a different person now, and I won’t play your games anymore.”

Bonus:

You can see the brief flash of confusion in his eyes as opens his mouth to challenge your words, but as if on cue, a high voice sounds.

“Mama! Mama!” Down from the beach, a chubby toddler with wavy tresses bounces up to the both of you, wide smile from ear to ear, proudly showing off a collection of shells in their bucket. Their cheeks are full and pink from the sun, the freckles climbing their shoulder a beautiful shade of brown as they stumbled clumsily on stubby feet. They stop short upon realizing your company, quickly scrambling to hide behind you as they peek up at the strange man.

You scoop them into your arms before Hisoka could react, protectively shielding them from him. His eyes flit between the both of you, and you see them narrow when they land on your child, who can only curiously return his gaze with bright amber eyes.

“Mama?” You feel your child’s hands curl hesitantly around your shirt, confused by the tension stretched taut between the both of you. Before you could answer, Hisoka cuts you off.

“Is this what you want?” He asks, getting to his feet.

“Yes, it is.” You didn’t even realize you had been holding your breath until he turns away, a shadow of a smile dancing on his lips.

“How cruel.”

[foreverfangirlalways]

The Astronomer and The Florist (Chapter 15)

Chapter 15 Title: Royality Wedding

Summery: Patton and Roman’s Wedding Day

Ships: Analogical & Royality

Warning: Nervousness, mild panic, tears

-let me know if I need to add more warnings-

( HAPPY BIRTHDAY to @thefingergunsgirl​! I hope you enjoy this fluffy Royality Wedding (can you spot the part where your fic inspired me?)  and a special thank you to all my friends who did wedding planning with me, especially @kawaiikat54​ and @five-falseh00ds-ph0nated​ for shopping with me )

*here is a collage of the wedding*

<the wonderful and fabulous @franticfandomfanatic​ drew Roman in his wedding dress, and I just had Link it! The picture is fabulous and exactly how I envisioned Roman looking in his dress! https://franticfandomfanatic.tumblr.com/post/621142753920860161/i-drew-something-from-foreverfangirlalways>

—-

*BEEP BEEP BEEP* Whack!

Patton sat up and stared at Virgil. “Did you just whack me and my alarm clock at the same time?”

Virgil grinned, and raised the pillow over his head again. “Yep! And I’m about to do it again if you don’t get up within the next 5 seconds. It’s your wedding day!”

Patton lunged and tackled Virgil in a hug, and Virgil fell to the ground. “Oh my gosh I am getting married today! Common Virgil! We have to go get dressed! And eat! And go to the Venue!”

Patton started dragging Virgil and he busted out laughing. “Well hopefully not in that order, and Patton, this is my house! Stop dragging me, I know where we are going!”

-_-_-_-

Meanwhile, Roman woke up a slight different way.

“Oof!”

Logan glared at an excited Roman.

“You have five seconds to get off me and tell me why you deigned to wake me by jumping on me, or Patton will find himself a widow very early.”

“Logan, Logan, Logan!” Roman said, bouncing off Logan and spinning around the room. “I’m getting married today! No time for sleep, we have to get ready! We have to be at the Venue in 4 hours! There’s so much to do! Let’s go!”

Roman started pulling Logan, and Logan just sighed, exasperated but with a fond look on his face.

“Just because this is your house doesn’t mean you get to drag me everywhere! Now, the makeup artist will be here in an hour, so let’s go ahead and eat breakfast while we can.

-_-_-_-

Once everyone was ready and fed, they all headed to the Venue. Roman and Logan stayed in the Bridal Suite, and Patton and Virgil were in the Groom’s Suite.

“Roman! If you get water on that dress I will kill you!”

“Logan, it’s water! And my dress! Now stop delaying and go get dressed!”

Logan crossed his arms, and Roman glared. “Do not test me, I will go Bridezilla on you. Now go. Get. Dressed.”

Logan scoffed, but went to go dressed. Roman let out a victory whoop, and Logan grinned at finally getting Roman to calm down.

-_-_-_-

“Patton, I don’t know about this. How did I let you talk me into this? This was a bad idea, I look-“

“Finish that sentence and I will physically fight you! I’m sure you look wonderful! Now let me see!”

Virgil walked out from behind the changing screen, and Patton squealed.

“You look awesome! I love it! Ooo! Spin spin spin!”

Virgil smiled at Patton’s begging and did a little twirl.

“Ah! I love it! This was a great idea! You look adorable in your blue skirt, and the red vest was a good choice!”

Virgil looked at his vest and smiled. “Yeah, Logan suggest that wear matching but opposite outfits. He picked out the vests. Roman got the skirts.”

Patton laughed, grabbed Virgil’s hand. “Holy shit, I’m getting married in 30 minutes!”

Virgil stared open mouthed. “You just cursed. And yes you are! You look amazing! Baby blue is definitely your color, and I love the bow tie!”

Patton giggled and took a bow. “I’m gonna be Roman’s Prince Charming!”

The door open and the new person smirked. “I’m glad you said that, because I can make a fabulous dramatic entrance now.”

The man with a bright yellow shirt and black suit walked over and and kneeled in front of Patton.

“The esteemed groom Roman asked that I present the most handsome prince in the world with his final gift to you before you are to get married.”

They all looked down at the blue crown that was sitting atop a decorative pillow.

Virgil asked “So Janus, how much did he pay you to say exactly those words?” at the same time Patton clasped his hands together and squealed.

“Aww! That’s so sweet! And cute! And I love it! Please tell him I love it and can’t wait to see him in the one I sent him!”

Virgil and Janus stared. “The one you...?”

“Yeah! While you were changing I sent Remus to Roman with a tiara I bought him. I thought it could be his ‘something new’!”

Janus laughed and Virgil shook his head in amusement. “Y’all are too perfect for eachother. Janus, since you are already here, I need your help. Common, time for finishing touches!”

-_-_-_-

“Alright Roman. You are dressed, hair styled, makeup done... I think you are ready. How do you feel?”

“I feel great Logan! A little nervous, but I look prefect!”

“Ohh, do you now?” Ask a man standing in the doorway. Logan narrowed his eyes and Roman rolled his.

“Yes, and my dress already has the perfect amount of red. So for the last time Remus, I am not putting fake blood all over myself for my wedding!”

Remus scoffed. “Who said anything about FAKE blood? And also, that’s not what that is about. Don’t worry Logan, I’m not going to try anything again, so no need for a glare. I came to bring you this.”

Remus held a tiara up from behind his back. Roman gasped and Logan chuckled.

“Patton gave it to me, telling me to give it to you and say some love speech that sums up to be ‘I love you and you are gonna look hot in this’ more or less.”

Logan laughed. “While I am sure that is not what Patton said, I know that if anyone had any doubts that y’all are perfect for eachother, the fact that you both secretly got crowns for eachother is all the proof they would need.”

Roman beamed and Remus set the tiara upon his head. “It’s almost time for me to walk you down the aisle little bro, are you ready?”

“Yes,”Roman said while nodding. “I’m marring the love of my life with my best friend by my side and my brother giving me away. I can’t wait!”

10 minutes later Logan and Virgil walked to their spots, and Patton was standing next to the officiator.

The opening notes of ‘I See The Light’ from Tangled are heard, and everyone stands up. Roman walks down the aisle, arm in arm with Remus.

Patton is bouncing on the balls of his feet, using all of his willpower to not rush to Roman and profess his love right then.

Remus walked Roman all the way up to Patton and clasped their hands together.

“Listen Pattycakes, you make Roman cry even a single tear of sorrow, I will make sure you push up some lovely daisies.”

Remus than pat Patton on the head and walked over to sit by Janus. Patton looked unnerved but Roman just shook his head and smiled.

“Well then! I believe that is my cue to start the ceremony!”

Everyone chuckled at Emile’s words. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to bare witness to the union of Roman Royal and Patton Hart. If anyone has a problem with this union, then I don’t know why you came to their wedding.”

Everyone chuckled again, and the grooms shook their heads lightheartedly.

“Now, I have been told that the grooms have written their own vows for eachother? Roman, you may go first.”

Roman smiled and squeezed Patton’s hand.

“Patton Morales Hart, ever since you sat beside me at the movie theater and cussed out Hans in ice cream flavors, I knew you were the one for me. You are sweet and gentle, but will also threaten people and chase people around with a weaponized tennis racket. You are my favorite sight to see, and the best thing to wake up too. You are my soulmate and help me be the best person I can be. I love you and can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” Roman then put the ring on Patton’s finger and kissed his hand.

Roman started crying about midway through his vows, but he never let his voice waver and powered on. Patton had a few tears streaming down his face and smiled brightly.

“Patton, you may now try and top Roman’s vows. Good luck!”

Light laughter was heard all throughout the crowd, and then Patton opened his mouth.

“Roman Cretivies Royal, I would first like to say congratulations on your nuptials!”

Roman huffed a laugh and shook his head, smile never dimming.

“In all seriousness, I knew I wanted to marry you from the moment you offered to take me out for ice cream after watching Frozen and proceeded to tell me how I should be treated like a true prince, and to always tell the Han’s that I will ‘kick their rocky road.’ There is no one else I want to dance around the kitchen with, embarrass our friends with, or make bets over how fast said friends will get together with. By the way, you still owe me ten bucks.

But I will let you keep the money in exchange for your undying love and support, because you have always had mine. I am so excited to spend every day making you feel as special as you have made me feel. We have been great boyfriends, and now we get to be fabulous husbands.”

Patton places the ring on Romans hand and bows. “A gorgeous ring for a gorgeous guy.”

At this point there wasn’t a dry eye for a two mile radius. Not being able to hold back, Roman pulled Patton into a rib-cracking embrace.

“Of course you have my love and support, now let’s officially become husbands!”

Emile clapped his hands. “Alright! Roman, do you take Patton to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do!”

“And Patton,  do you take Roman to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do!”

“Perfect! By the power vested in me, you may now kiss the groom!”

Roman dipped Patton into a kiss, and then Patton spun Roman around.

“It is my honor to intrude to you, Roman and Patton Royalhart!”

Everyone cheered, and no one stopped smiling for the rest of the day.

Patton booped icing on Roman’s nose.

Logan and Virgil both gave embarrassing but adorable toasts.

Roman glided across the dance floor with Patton for the first dance, and then with Remus for the brother brother dance.

Patton friendly intimidated Logan when Virgil caught the bouquet.

Logan places a flower from the bouquet behind Virgil’s ear.

Virgil kissed Logan after a slow dance, and Patton and Roman then dragged them to go take pictures at the photo booth.

After the night was over, Roman and Patton were sent off to the airport in a limo, to head to their honeymoon destination.

Virgil and Logan went home, changed into pajamas, and fell asleep cuddling.

Taglist-

@dragonwithproblems​

@five-falseh00ds-ph0nated​

@thefingergunsgirl​

@kawaiikat54​

@sanders-sides-with-quinn​

@007ardra​

@yikesdodson​

@nerdycupcake559​

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@impatentpending​

@star-crossed-shipper​

@ravenivy2079​

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@moose-boi​

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@ninathepancake​

@kuroyurishion​

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@pattoncake-and-eyeshadow​ 

@drewwwbydoobydoo​

@sure-i-exist​

@sophiexteresa​

@glitched-cookie​

@wellhellothere09​

[madpanda75]

The Romantics Series “In Sickness and In Health” Part One

Revisiting my Romantics Series with a little two parter. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while now. A huge thanks to @sass-and-suspenders​ for giving me the idea for the title and letting my blursty monkey ass send her snippets 😜

Warning: NSFW— Just a pinch of smut

The first warm spring weekend at Harvard meant frat boys tossing a frisbee and sorority girls sunbathing. For you and Rafael, it was a chance to go outside under your favorite oak tree and study. However, little studying was being done by either of you. You were laying on the blanket with your legs propped up against the tree trunk, crossed at the ankles. Kate Chopin’s The Awakening lay abandoned on your chest as you napped.

Rafael, on the other hand, was more focused on you than his philosophy notes. From your polished toes, up your long legs to the delicate forearm shielding your eyes from the sun, and finally the crown of hair haloed around your head. The sunlight streaming through the leaves, made each strand shimmer. He could turn his head and brush his lips against your calf if he wanted to. Instead he shifted in his seat, using his binder to cover his half-hard cock as he watched you stretch like a cat. Your Nirvana t-shirt rising up to reveal a strip of bare skin on your stomach.

Perhaps it was the stress of school or maybe it was the four years of pent-up emotions Rafael had for you, finally bubbling up to the surface. Whatever it was, it seemed as if all you had to do was glance his way or accidentally brush up against his body and he was hard as a rock. He felt like a prepubescent middle schooler.

“I feel you,” you mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Rafael cleared his throat and silently willed his body to calm down.

“I feel you watching me.” You lowered your arm and opened one eye, peering up at him. “What’s up?”

The irony of your words was not lost on Rafael. “Nothing,” he replied, suddenly fascinated by Kirkegaard’s existential philosophy.

A smile tugged at your lips. “Liar.” You propped yourself up on your elbows and nudged his shoulder with your foot. “Come on, I can always tell when you’re lying. Your right eye twitches a little bit.”

“I was just wondering if you wanted to grab a burger. Maybe go see a movie? Como agua para chocolate is still playing at the theater.”

“I can’t. I’m supposed to help Chet Aldrich study for our feminist literature studies exam.” You glanced down at your watch. “Actually, I need to get going.”

Rafael scoffed. “You mean to tell me that misogynist frat boy is taking a feminist literature class?”

You shrugged and laced up your Doc Martens. “I think he thought it was a bird course. Little did he know that Dr. Gupta is ruthless. Poor guy is in way over his head. And anyways, he’s kinda cute in a Jason Priestly sorta way.”

Rafael rolled his eyes. Chet Aldrich was a legacy and the president of Sigma Alpha Epsilon, the oldest fraternity at Harvard. Having had a few classes with Chet, Rafael had seen firsthand what a flirt he was, always talking up the pretty girls to help him pass his classes and maintain his subpar GPA.

Despite his misgivings, Rafael walked with you over to where Chet said he would meet you. “I still can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“He asked for my help. What was I supposed to say? I think you’re judging him way too quickly. You don’t even know him.”

“Wait a minute.” He narrowed his eyes a bit, noticing the way you were fidgeting, the blush on your cheeks. It was as if someone had adjusted the antenna on a TV just a hair and all of a sudden the picture became clear. “Do you like this guy?”

“Maybe,” you admitted.

Rafael felt like his heart sank into his stomach. “Maybe,” he softly repeated.

You stared down at your shoes, unable to look your best friend in the eye. Four years. That was how long you had pined over Rafael. There were moments where you just couldn’t take it anymore. Moments where you thought about marching right up to his dorm room and confessing your feelings, but fear always stopped you from taking that next step. You were afraid he wouldn’t reciprocate. Afraid that your friendship would never be the same. But most of all, you were afraid that you’d be left heartbroken and alone. Once the spring semester started, you decided it was time to move on and try to find someone else. It was better to have Rafael as a friend than nothing at all.

After your confession, both of you stood in silence when a Red BMW blaring Informer by Snow came around the corner, screeching to a halt in front of you. Chet Aldrich hopped out of the car and gave you a dazzling smile. Well, you thought it was dazzling. Rafael thought it was smarmy. “Hey, baby. Ready to study?”

You giggled and twirled a strand of your hair. “Absolutely!”

Chet walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for you. “Your chariot awaits.” He pointed to Rafael, who was currently trying to choke back the bile rising in his throat. “Hey, I know you. It’s Rudy or Randy, right?”

“Actually it’s Rafael,” he snapped at the frat boy.

Chet nodded his head. “Oh yeah, Ra-fa-el,” he slowly said.

“Are you kidding me with this guy?” Rafael mumbled so that only you would hear.

“Be nice,” you quietly chastised and patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Y/N, wait,” Rafael called out as you walked away, taking your hand and pulling you into a hug. “Just be careful, ok?” he whispered in your ear, squeezing you tight for a second longer before letting go.

Your face grew hot at your friend’s sudden surprise affection and you briefly wondered if he even noticed as you tried to brush it off. “Relax, Rafi. I’ll be fine. I’m not being shipped off to war. I’m going to study.” Waving one final time, you went back over to Chet.

“Don’t worry,” Chet said, shutting the passenger door after you stepped inside. “I’ll be sure to have her back in one piece.” He winked and got in the car, driving away and leaving Rafael alone in the dust.

*****

You straddled Rafael on the bed, kissing him hard, all teeth and tongue. Your books tossed aside and long forgotten during your hot and heavy makeout session. You rocked against his denim-clad erection, your hair tickling his face as you caressed his tongue with your own.

Rafael whimpered and ran his hands down your back. Grabbing your ass, he encouraged you to continue your movements, the wet spot in his boxers growing larger. The collective sounds of your labored breathing and soft moans echoed around the room with every slow drag of your hips.

“Rafi, make love to me,” you murmured between kisses.

He groaned, already on the brink of coming in his jeans. “Are you sure?”

“Please, I need you,” you purred, your voice dripping with desire.

In an instant, Rafael flipped you over, rendering you on your back. His eyes widened in surprise when he noticed you were completely naked. “What?” He looked around the bedroom, the clothes you were wearing only seconds ago were nowhere to be found. “How did you—”

You giggled and licked your lips, your gaze lowering to his groin. “Damn. All these years and I never realized you were packing.”

Rafael looked down and realized that his clothes were gone. “But I didn’t—”

“Rafi, fuck me,” you whined, your eyes half-hooded with lust.

No longer caring where your or his clothes were by that point, he crashed his mouth into yours, spreading your legs. His large hand palmed at your breast, pinching your hardened nipple.

“Rafael,” you gasped and arched into his touch.

“Oh, Y/N,” he moaned, aligning himself with your entrance when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Tilting his head back, Rafael’s jaw dropped when he saw Chet Aldrich standing by the bed.

“You’re too late, Rudy. She’s mine,” he said with a smirk.

“It’s Rafael,” he sneered.

“Whatever. Get out of the way.” Chet pushed Rafael off you, sending him flying off the bed.

Rafael sat bolt upright, his t-shirt soaked with sweat. Running a hand over his face, he glanced over at his bedside clock. It was 7:30. Chet Aldrich was probably putting the moves on you at this very moment. He flopped back onto the mattress, his mind reeling over you, over Chet, over the bizarre dream he  just had.

Your behavior that afternoon bewildered him. He had never seen you flirt before. That wasn’t you. You were the girl that would make a quippy remark whenever someone put the moves on you, choosing to walk away arm in arm with Rafael instead. Maybe after four years, he didn’t know you at all. Maybe he really had missed his chance with you. Putting his hand over his heart, he felt dull ache radiating from beneath his rib cage.

He sighed and looked down to find his painfully hard cock sticking straight up. Apparently, you made quite an impression in his dreams, that is until Chet Aldrich interrupted. Unzipping his jeans, he freed his erection and closed his eyes. He began to stroke himself, imagining what he would do to you if you were there— worshipping every inch of your skin, making you come undone with his mouth before crawling on top of you, thrusting into your pussy, feeling your slick walls grip him.

“Oh, Y/N,” he moaned, smearing the precum that had leaked out of his weeping head against his shaft. His breath hitched as he sped up his movements, squeezing himself at the root of his cock all while fantasizing about how you would writhe in pleasure underneath him. The noises you would make. Your sweaty bodies molded perfectly to each other. He was so close, right about to tumble off the edge when the phone ringing pulled him back.

Rafael whined and wiped his hand off, reaching for the phone on the nightstand. “Hello,” he grumbled.

“Rafael? It’s Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Mrs. Y/L/N,” he squeaked and nearly dropped the reciever while covering himself with a pillow, as if your mother had the ability to see what he was doing through the phone. “Is everything ok?” A small sob escaped her lips and his pulse began to quicken. “Did something happen?”

All the color drained from his face listening to her, only processing certain parts. Car accident. You. Mount Auburn Hospital. “I’m on the first flight out of Chicago,” she said. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind staying with her until I get there? I would ask her roommate, but Rebecca is away at a crew competition.”

“Absolutely. I’m on my way.” Rafael stood up and nearly walked out of the room when he realized that his pants were still dangling around his ankles.

“Thank you. You’re such a good friend to Y/N.” She sniffled. “You know, she hates hospitals. Ever since—”

“I know,” he softly replied. “I’ll head over right now.” Panic began to set in as soon as he hung up with your mom. Running out the door, several thoughts came to his mind—for you to be ok and that he was going to murder Chet Aldrich. 

@glimmerglittergirl​ @southern-magnolia​ @sweetcannolicarisi​ @delia26​ @obfuscateyummy​ @sass-and-suspenders​ @eclecticminded​ @thatesqcrush​ @katmstanton​ @amirightcounsellor​ @beltzboys2015-blog​ @letty-o​ @sonnysdoll​ @lyssa1385​ @sweetsummertime99​ @burningsorr0ws​ @gibbs274​ @izzythefanfreak​ @babypink224221​ @livxrafa​ @esparza-army​ @obsessionprofessional​ @ottosuricato​ @melsquared79​ @dreila03​ @frenchiefoxy​ @tropes-and-tales​ @thecraziestcrayon​ @goodluckfindingone​ @scarlettsoldier​ @amirightcounselor​ @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii​ @imjustreallynosy​ @graniairish​ @ashley-chi​ @lolacolaempath @cocomel0613​ @imagine-all-the-imagines​ @mysterioustrashadventures​

[ellenripleysbelieveitornot]

After seeing the reaction on my last fic with Nanny Ashtoreth, Brother Francis, and Warlock, I decided to make a special post for all three. Because I love that dynamic so much, and it deserves it’s own post.

All three fics, in their entirety, are below the read more. In order, they are

Warlock catching Nanny yelling at the garden

Nanny and Brother Francis take Warlock trick or treating

“I SAW NANNY KISSING SANTA CLAUSE!”

They’re marked clearly with headers. Enjoy!

Warlock catching Nanny yelling at the garden

Brother Francis, during the course of his employment for the Dowlings, always seemed to be on the very cusp of being fired.

Looking back on his childhood, Warlock would wonder how he ever managed to have a job at all. The flowerbeds always seemed to be flooded, the bushes were trimmed to within an inch of their life, and instead of using any sort of pesticide, he instead fawned over whatever caterpillar or rabbit decided to have lunch in the garden.

Despite all this, however, the plants always seemed to survive, somehow. When he was six, he realized that a sort of pattern had emerged. The plants would be near death, when he went to bed at night, but by the time he got up in the morning, they would be looking so lush and green that you couldn’t even tell they had ever been sick. Then, every four to five days, the process would repeat itself.

He didn’t have any clue as to why this would be happening until he was seven. He woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of shouting coming from the garden. When he rushed to the window to see what all the commotion was about, he saw Nanny Ashtoreth standing in the middle of the yard and screaming at the plants. This went on for several hours, until finally, she seemed to run out of things to say and stalked back inside the house.

The next morning, the plants were thriving again.

Brother Francis seemed very pleased, as Warlock watched them while kicking a ball around. He was close enough to hear as the gardner leaned over to the Nanny and said proudly, “you see my dear? Anytime they start to look unhealthy, I make sure to spend the entire day giving them love and praise, and come morning, they always look beautiful again!”

Warlock was pretty sure that it wasn’t ‘love and praise’ that brought the plants back to life. Strange as it sounded, he was pretty sure that it was Nanny’s shouting that had gotten them to straighten up. After all, had he been a plant, he would certainly do his best to look presentable if Nanny screamed at him the way she had at the plants last night.

No, the garden’s vivaciousness was definitely Nanny’s doing, and Warlock expected her to say as much to Brother Francis.

Instead, Nanny’s face softened in a way Warlock had never seen on her before as she smiled at the gardner.

“Yes, Angel,” she said, an alarming sort of fondness in her voice. “You’ve certainly got a knack for this. I should never have doubted your abilities.”

Brother Francis positively beamed in response, and for a second, he looked much younger.

It was as the gardner picked up his water can and began to drown the flowers again, that Nanny Ashtoreth caught Warlock watching them.

While Brother Francis’s back was turned, she smiled at Warlock conspiritorally and raised one gloved finger to her lips. Warlock grinned back and nodded.

This would stay their secret.

Nanny and Brother Francis take Warlock trick or treating

Nanny Ashtoreth was an angel. Not just because she gave up one of her precious few nights off to stay with Warlock after his parents got invited to a last-minute party, but also because, on that particular night, she just so happened to literally be dressed like one.

“Alright, now, dear, when they answer the door, what do we say?”

“Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat! If you don’t, I don’t care, I’ll pull down your underwear!” Warlock shouted cheerfully at the top of his lungs.

“Very good! A little troublemaker after my own heart!”

“Do you think people will give me lots of candy, Nanny?” the five-year-old asked excitedly as he bounced back and forth from foot to foot

“Oh, I’m sure they will,” Nanny said as she straightened the crown balanced precariously on Warlock’s small head. “And if not, we’ll simply have to destroy them when you come into your power.”

Of course, it was right then that Brother Francis decided to join them. “Now, now, there’ll be no need for all that. Remember, Master Warlock, you’ll get plenty of sweets so long as you say ‘please’ and 'thank you.’”

Nanny would have scoffed, had she not been utterly distracted the moment she laid eyes on Brother Francis. “Ang- Azir- Brother Francis, what in Go- Sa- Somebody’s name are you wearing?!”

Brother Francis grinned and spun around to show off the full scope of his costume. From the bright red, plastic horns on his head to the cheap toy pitchfork he held in one hand, his cartoonish devil costume was about accurate to the real thing as Count Chocula was to vampires.

“You like it?” he asked.

The scowl on Nanny’s face indicated that she, in fact, did not. “That’s horribly offensive!”

“Me?” Francus gestured to the white Marilyn Monroe style dress and sparkly angel wings Nanny Ashtoreth had donned. “What about you?”

Nanny smirked and did a little twirl that made her skirt flare out. “What about me?”

Brother Francis blushed but didn’t get a chance to reply as Warlock mustered up all the drama that only a five-year-old could and threw back his head with a groan. “Can we gooooo, already?!” he whined.

“One moment, dear, just let me grab the eggs and toilet paper.” At the appalled look on Brother Francis’ face she laughed, a beautiful, joyful sound. “I’m kidding.”

Brother Francis studied her suspiciously before his face softened into a fond smile as she took Warlock’s hand in her own. On a whim, he offered his own arm out for her to take, his heart thudding loudly in his chest as she blinked at him in surprise.

Gently, as though afraid she would break it, she rested her hand in the crook of his elbow and smiled at him in return. “Shall we, then?”

“I didn’t realize they made Antichrist costumes,” he murmured softly in her ear as they set out.

Nanny Ashtoreth self-conciously rubbed her thumb across the many band-aids wrapped around the tips of most of her fingers. “They don’t,” she said proudly. “…Do you suppose it’s a little too on the nose?”

Brother Francis hummed in consideration as he watched Warlock excitedly run up the front steps of the first house to ring the doorbell. “…The hooves are a nice touch.”

“I SAW NANNY KISSING SANTA CLAUSE!”

It was a cold night, and the world was quiet and still, yet, little Warlock Dowling still couldn’t sleep. After all, tonight was a very special night. He had been both on his very best and his very worst behavior during the weeks leading up to it, helping Brother Francis out in the garden, pulling all the kids books off the shelves at the local library under Nanny’s approving gaze.

Brother Francis had said that he would definitely be on the nice list, and Nanny had said that extra naughty children receive extra special toys, so he was sure to find lots of presents from Santa under the tree come tomorrow morning.

Which was why he was still lying awake in bed, too excited to sleep, when he heard the sound of jingle bells coming from downstairs sometime around midnight. Carefully, he climbed out of bed and crept down the hall to the top of the stairs, where he had a clear view of the sitting room where the tree had been set up.

Santa didn’t look quite how Warlock had expected, his hair closer to a light blonde than white with a pair of blue eyes that looked almost familiar somehow. But, he still had the bright red suit, and the big black boots, and the hat with the pom-pom, and he was pulling brightly wrapped gifts out of a large brown sack, and that was enough for Warlock’s curiosity. It was, after all, quite a lot of gifts.

He had almost finished when a voice across the room startled him and he spun around. “Angel, what are you doing?”

When he saw Nanny, Santa put a hand to his chest in relief. “You scared me,” he accused, his voice soft and light.

“My apologies,” Nanny said, not sounding very sorry at all. “I was just bringing out the milk and cookies.” She walked around the tree to stand in front of Santa. “Won’t you have some? I made them myself.”

“Ooh!” Santa wiggled his fingers over the plate before picking up the largest cookie and taking a bite. “Oh, my dear, they’re absolutely heavenly.”

“How dare you,” Nanny said. But she said it in the same way she said ‘you horrible little hell spawn’ to Warlock, the way Brother Francis had told him meant ‘I love you,’ though he wasn’t supposed to tell Nanny that he knew.

Santa only chuckled and finished putting out the rest of the presents.

Nanny put the milk and cookies down on the coffee table and looked at the pile under the tree, raising one delicate eyebrow. “It’s quite a lot.”

“I… may have gone overboard,” Santa said sheepishly.

“You don’t say,” Nanny remarked dryly.

“Oh, I forgot one!” Santa reached into the bag and pulled out one last, small present. Instead of putting it under the tree, however, he handed it to Nanny, who looked at the gift in her hands with wide eyes.

“For me?” she asked, her voice sounding suddenly strange. “Angel-”

“Open it,” Santa encouraged.

Nanny took her time carefully peeling back the paper to reveal a plain looking box. She gasped as she opened it and dropped both the box and the lid, clutching a single white feather in her hands.

“Merry Christmas, dearest,” Santa said gently, wiping away what looked like a tear (but couldn’t be because Nanny never cried) from her face with his thumb. In a swift movement, Nanny grabbed Santa by his red coat and pressed their lips together.

Ew.

The next morning, Crowley and Aziraphale, who was there by Warlock’s request, sat around the tree with the Dowlings, watching Warlock eagerly tear open his presents. The feather was tucked into her breast pocket, close to her heart, and she found herself feeling perfectly content.

That is, until she was sent into a coughing fit by Warlock excitedly yelling out, “I SAW NANNY KISSING SANTA CLAUSE!”

[insomniac-dot-ink]

The Gentleman and the Dancer

Summary: A hero takes the hands of a dancer with red slippers meant to make her dance to death. 

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

She was beautiful. Beautiful in the way that didn’t know it: sunsets and autumn leaves, dew on fresh grass and the wings of colorful birds in flight. She was a creature of slim arms that bent and swooped like swans elegant necks and legs that twirled her with a thoughtless grace. She had long auburn hair made-up in an elaborate bun balanced on the crown of her head. Her face was picturesque and compressed with a mouth that frowned so delicately and small nose that wrinkled so tastefully.

It was a shy beauty that lacked presumptuousness.

Mariana Loupe. They brought her in with two guards and a handmaiden weeping as she approached. ‘My Lord!’ The lady cried with splotchy eyes and wet cheeks, ‘we have a great tragedy.’

I climbed down from my throne and approached slowly toward the woman in a fitted red dress and sleek movements. She was spinning, spinning and spinning and holding herself with a resolute weariness. There were bags under her golden eyes and when she looked up I knew something terrible had happened here.

‘What is it?’ I beseeched the guards.

‘The great dancer,’ the guard on the left announced through his echoing helmet. ‘She has been cursed with a set of red slippers that will have her dance until her death.’

My face fell and I turned toward Mariana, ‘is this true?’ I peered down at her cinched red dance slippers and my heart squeezed as I saw spots of blood pooling at the toes.

‘I’m afraid so,’ she said in a whispery voice that barely reached my ears. ‘Only a great love will break the curse.’

I took a step back and looked her up and down. My expression grew hard, ‘who did this? We will bring them to justice!’

She shook her head and her arms extended above her head and she did a perfect pirouette. ‘It’s too late. There is no justice to be had…’ Her eyes flared in my direction and I swallowed dryly.

‘What can I do?’ I decided right then and there I would do whatever I could to free the great Mariana Loupe.

She gave a bloodless tilt of her head, ‘I have danced for three days now with one gentleman after the next, but none have been able to break the charms of the slippers. I’m afraid it might be hopeless.’

‘Never!’ My voice filled the chasm of the chamber. ‘This is my land and my castle and I say what is allowed or not. And I say there is hope!’

She presented the smallest of smiles and twisted in place in a deep plié. ‘As you wish, my lord.’ She said demurely and bent backward, ‘but I’m afraid time is running out. I am… tired.’ And I could practically smell the exhaustion running off her in waves.

‘So, a gentleman can break this damned thing?’ I reached for pale dove-hands, ‘I am nothing but a gentleman myself.’

The guards took a step back and the handmaiden gasped gently as I grabbed the lady out of her dance of death. Her red lips parted in surprise and her eyes shone.

‘My lord…’

‘I will not see a beautiful thing die just like that.’ I grinned boldly. ‘Not if I can do something about it.’

‘Thank you, my king,’ her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. ‘Thank you.’

We began to dance: first a slow waltz, and then a cheery candle dance, and then finally a swaying ballroom dance where we leaned on each other. By that point the guards and servants had left us and taken up their usual posts at the doors and night time watch at the gates.

The great clock chimed midnight when the maiden started to truly sag and collapse under her own weight. I started to speak to keep her awake.

‘Where are your parents?’ I asked conversationally despite the fact I could feel a prickly pain crawling up my own thighs. ‘Surely they must be distraught.’

‘Passed, my lord,’ she said gently. ‘They were from a small town in the North. And one winter they did not make it to see the spring.’

‘I am so sorry,’ I responded with a frown. ‘That must have been difficult.’

She raised a leg up prettily behind her, ‘it is what is. Sometimes we must bear things we don’t expect to bear.’ She said with a sigh, ‘and it opened up my way to move to the city and be trained as a dancer.’

I exhaled slowly. ‘My parents have also passed. Along with my older brother,’ I said and squeezed her hand on reflex. ‘I try to find silver-linings in it myself.’

‘Indeed,’ she tilted her head to the side. ‘I too mourned the passing of Prince Henry.’

I nodded mutely and spun her in a tight circle, ‘where is your troupe my lady? Surely they must be worried sick about you too.’

‘My fellow dancers are playing in a different city,’ she said blankly. ‘The unrest in the capital has sent them toward the western country.’

My brow folded in, ‘I am sorry they have been disrupted.’ I said though my jaw clenched slightly, ‘I am trying to weed out the vermin in the capital as we speak.’

‘That’s a lot of people to bring to justice, my lord,’ she took us in a loose circle and leaned closer to me. ‘They are hungry vermin, no?’

‘They are always hungry,’ I growled. ‘They simply don’t pay attention to growing season conditions and considerations I must take into account.’

‘But they are the ones that grow it, no?’ She was spinning them in a faster loop now.

‘The city is mostly merchants and uneducated riff-raff, not farmers.’ I said in a hard tone. ‘But I don’t expect an entertainer to know of city demographics.’

‘You’re right, my lord.’ She said and her golden brown eyes diverted to the floor. ‘What do I know?’

‘And what about a lover, my lady?’ I changed the subject. ‘Surely he must be worried sick about you too.’

‘Oh no,’ she said with a quick tongue and a sudden needle-point punctuation to her words. ‘My lover passed in the famine. Like my parents. And like the riff-raff outside your gates.’

‘Excuse me?’ I tried to step back, but Mariana Loupe was spinning us in a whirl of red and hard pounding steps across the floor. 

‘Don’t you want to know about the gentleman I danced with before you, King William?’ She asked slowly in her same whispery tone.

I tried to release her small hands but something had plastered us together and kept our fingers locked.

‘The Marquis of the eastern farms which have known nothing but floods and tax collection,’ Mariana’s face opened up to the wild smile of a jackal or a hungry wolf.

My feet started to screech with a red hot pain. ‘Wicked woman!’ I tried to step away but the pain only climbed my legs with wet, wrenching fingers.

‘The noble Lord of Coin that has raised rates on the poor each year,’ She announced without remorse. ‘And now King William,’ She sneered. ‘The Heartless.’

‘Release me, witch!’ But the sparks were erupting by our feet with smoke hissing from the floor itself. ‘Your devil shoes-’

‘Oh, they are still cursed, all cursed,’ she said and spun us in a wicked dip, ‘but what love could rival justly spilling of your blood, my lord?’

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

if you enjoyed the story please consider donating to my ko-fi, supporting me on patreon (even a dollar helps!) or subscribing to my website

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

Be Yours - Chapter One Option 2 (Knight AU)

Hey guys!

So I created this part a while ago (like it was one of my first drafts) and the only difference really is that there’s no OC, just ‘You’. 

So since there wasn’t a lot of hits with the OC so far (huge thank you that have!) but I could also be speaking way too soon. 

But either way, I wanted to get this out there and let me know which one you’d prefer if you wanted this to continue!

Be safe

Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: Explicit (Smut, Mild Dark Themes, Slow Burn, Violence, Death)

Warnings: Drinking, Pining, Mild violence

Word Count: 4k

Summary: As Princess of Riverheart, you’re thrusted into the world of dark forces that will threatened to destroy the very life you know in the midst of war and, worst of all, love. 

Be Yours Masterlist

You could smell the blood. 

It was coated all around you, in the small patch of meadow around the fields you grew up around. You looked down and saw it was on your hands as well. The stickiness and heaviness of it was distinct, dripping slowly between the cracks of your fingers. 

You heard your name being called but couldn’t decipher who it was. Everything was slow and sluggish as you started to turn around. But whatever or whomever it was, it was peace, it was home, it was – 

You awoke with a gasp, clutching your blanket. Your heart pounded heavily against your ribcage, mouth dry and temple pulsing. You frantically looked down at your hands, afraid to see them crimson.

Pale as the day you were born. 

With a sigh of relief, you inspected your room, morbidly expecting blood to be seeping from the plain dark walls. Your nightgown was sticking to you uncomfortably, hair frizzled and eyes shifting from every corner of your room. You were sure you looked utterly mad. 

The sun shined brightly through the curtains of your light blue room, rays of gold splaying across the wooden floor. Dust laid still in the air through the sun’s rays, and you could briefly taste it on your tongue. 

“Princess?” 

You jumped, still gripping the top of your blanket, knuckles white. Jules peered through, closing the door behind her and giving you a look. 

“Another nightmare?”

A nightmare. Yes, yes that’s what that was.

“Yes,” you finally croaked. You cleared your throat before continuing. “But it is nothing to fret over.”

Jules snorted as she pulled back the curtains, laughing at your grimace as you shielded your face from the blinding sun. 

“You have been having nightmares for many a night now. It is a sign.”

Jules, with her light brown, straight hair, blue eyes and slender form was not only a loyal servant, but a dear friend as well. Just at the tender age of thirteen Jules was appointed to you, who was only a year older than yourself. It was the picking of her father, Bringham, that brought the two of you together. 

“It is through my mother that I know you now,” Jules had told you once. “And I am fortunate to be here, with you and the King.”

You knew she’d rather be anywhere but under a Royal’s thumb. Jules was too kind to say it aloud, but you knew. 

But despite the position, Jules had the voice of a singer, soft and sweet and pleasing to the ears of those around her, even now in the early sets of morning. You often found yourself jealous of her gift.

“No sign,” you argued. “Foolish to dwell on when there’s wars and sickness to worry about.”

It was the same excuse every time. You had a duty to fulfill, a title to fill if your father failed to do so before his death. 

So you were the only one next in line for the crown, the responsibilities of your people, and you could not afford to waste it on pointless dreams. 

“Well the joust is today,” Jules chimed your name, throwing a gown at you. You huffed as it hit you in the face, glaring at the grinning girl. “And that guard of yours is the ever brooding Dark Knight.”

You tried to bite back the smile that wanted to desperately graze your lips. “He’s barely a friend, Jules.”

And you didn’t know what he looked like. 

“And I’m the queen,” Jules quipped back with a roll of her eyes. “Your father expects you to be in the halls after you are dressed. Please don’t keep him waiting.”

You grumbled as you stood up, shedding off your damp nightgown and throwing on the beautiful and elegant blue gown; simple with your family's crescent, a river and a lively tree, laced around the edges and forearm.

You poked at your face, grimacing at the light grey under your eyes. You would need it covered soon. 

For some odd reason, it had you thinking of your late mother. 

Your mother, who many said that you practically wore her face. 

“Take it from Adriana, and you have yourself right there.” They would follow with. 

It made your father bristle at the mention of your mother, and more so when he would study you; watching from afar with careful eyes. 

But today was not the day to dwell on such horrors and sadness. Today was a day of celebration, a day to bring everyone together. 

“Ah!” Your father, Bringham, greeted you with a warm smile. “Please, sit next to me dear.”

King Bringham of Riverhearth was still a handsome man even in his middle age, with his dark hair - turning grey with age - and crinkled brown eyes. You could never see this, but you heard the whispers among the crowds in the marketplace, all young and old and in between gushing over the widowed king. It bothered you at a young age, but you grew to just simply ignore them as you got older; you didn’t need to waste your time on their helpless dreams anyway. 

Because despite every desirable, participating and willing woman flooding the courts for one chance at his hand in marriage, Bringham would turn them away each time with a soft, apologizing smile.

“You do not need to worry of such things,” Bringham had told you.

“Of course I do,” you argued. “You’re my father, and you deserve love just as the rest of us. Why have you not given it a second chance?”

“And why not you give it a chance at all? You’re no better than I when it comes to suitors.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, mulling over his words. 

They indeed held truth to them, but you refused to give him an answer when this night was supposed to be about him. 

“This isn’t about me,” you voiced.

He gave you a small, closed lip smile. It was in that smile that you saw that he wasn’t going to explain his reasoning's to you You liked to think that he just could not fathom or form the words left unsaid between them; the loss of you mother, the beautiful queen and a loving wife, it was too much to bear on his still heavy and sore heart.  

But never did he ever make you or anyone else believe that you were the reasoning behind Queen Adriana’s death. 

“She gave life, and she saw that as a blessing on her own.” Bringham told you. 

That night was peculiar in your memories, just only a week ago. It was warm, a slight, comfortable breeze enveloping through the ports. Your father had been drinking, and you thought do indulge yourself as well.

You weren’t queen yet. 

You did not stop until your mind and body felt sluggish, and you also felt overly bubbly and bold. You skipped through the halls of her home quietly, soft as feathers. 

You had been looking for Jules but could not find her in sight. You found this as unusual of your friend, but it was quickly dismissed when you bumped into a hard barrier, nearly falling back onto your rump when a pair of hard, strong arms caught you. 

You struggled to recall your previous lectures of etiquettes when you saw him. 

“Oh!” You gasped. “I’m t-terribly sorry.”

Din was… a complete enigma. 

Appointed at a very young age as a knight and soldier in training to one of your own guards, he had been loyal to your family since you were a teenager. You had no knowledge of his upbringings and where he originated from at all. He rarely spoke unless needed, and even then it was short and to the point. But he was a very skilled fighter and was valued by all and every in times of wars and miscellaneous, dirty jobs. He always complied with no questions, no quarrels. That’s why he was the perfect soldier. 

And in a world, in a kingdom where all royal knights could never show their faces after their creed, you were never able to see his face. 

The logic behind these oaths were always questioned, yourself included. 

“Dignity. Loyal. These men and women need to be the perfect soldiers in order to protect our people. It has worked for many years, and will continue to do so.”

You weren’t so sure of that. 

The helmet, silver with a slit for him to see through, that was staring back at you with intensity.  

“Princess,” he said gruffly. His voice, hard and yet soft even covered, never failed to send shivers through your body, and for your heart to skip several beats. “It’s late. What are you doing running about?”

His stare bore deep into your orbs, and you found herself giggling at the seemingly silly question. 

“Looking for you, my knight,” you said with a childish glee. 

“You need to be asleep. I’m sure your father is.”

You could not help it, but you rolled your eyes at him with a quirky smile. 

“Please, Din.” You sighed. “He will not be woken up. He’s had himself a few too much tonight.”

He grunted. “It seems as though you have as well, Princess.”

This caused you to frown. “Please, call me by my name. We have this talk at least once or twice a week.”

You heard the shift of his silver armor - painted with your Royal’s crescent and doing little to hide the protruding build of the man - as he twitched, moving slightly away from you. You saw this as a nervous tick, a means to hide back behind his tower and go back to silence.

You immediately regretted saying anything when you missed the warmth of his arms against you, despite the cold bite of his armor. 

He said your name cautiously. “It would be unprofessional of me to not call you by your title.”

You didn’t know why, but you found yourself giggling again, twirling around the halls as you continued to laugh. 

“Right. You’re one of the fiercest knights of Riverhearth.” Your voice grew louder as your giddiness did, and you could barely hear Din’s shushes over the rushing waves in your ears. 

“Brave, strong, healthy, and dangerous. Din Djarin of… of Nowhere’s Land! Where are you from, my precious guard? Just who are you? What is under all that armor?”

You had never seen Din freeze like he had that night. It was a guilty memory added to the growing list. 

But Din quickly shook it off, and you hated how remarkably good he was at keeping his composure, whereas you sometimes let your emotions get the best of you. 

“You do not need to know such things, Princess,” he said, walking towards you now that you had stopped moving from him. “You know enough about me to go on.”

“But I ought to know something more,” you pouted. Then you straightened up with a set jaw. “And as Princess of this court, I demand you tell me this instance!”

You swore you could hear his smile, but before you could tease him about it he sighed heavily through his nose and, again, you were sure, narrowed his eyes at you. You started to smile triumphantly before you were abruptly turned around in the spot, being pushed - gently although, like he was afraid to touch you - towards the direction of her bedroom. 

“Unfair,” you whined.

“Princesses don’t always get what they want,” he quipped. “You should start learning that.”

You should have felt a little offended by his words, but you found it to be humorous in nature. 

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever spoken to me like that, Din.”

He must have just realized it as well, because he stopped for a millisecond before continuing his path to your door, making sure you didn’t trip or stumble along the way; it proved a lot harder than he predicted, but thank goodness you were not completely over the rails. 

“You better get used to it then if you continue this way.”

You giggled. “Aw why? Am I -” You crossed your arms over your heart, gasping in exceragation and leaning heavily against him. “A bother to you, good knight?”

He shook his head at you and eased you into your bedroom without making too much noise, helping you lie down on your bed with a gentle flop. 

“It must be a very lonely life,” you found herself rambling. “When you’re as dedicated to the Court as yourself.”

There was nothing but the rustling of your sheets as you settled into your bed, eyes already closed and feeling dizzy from your previous excursions. 

You did not expect him to respond, and he did, but not with what you wanted to hear. 

“Rest. You will feel like roadkill in the morning, and I do not want to explain to the King on why his daughter was running around drunk at such witching hours.”

Witching hours, Din worrying about you getting a pinch on the wrist by your father, the luck of trying to find Jules leading to this conversation, it all was funny to you and you actually were able to let out a tiny giggle before succumbing to sleep. 

The next morning, as Din had told you, you did in fact feel like roadkill. Your brain thrummed against her skull, and you had to pretend that everything was okay and that you could still perform your royal duties without puking your guts out. 

Just like Din had pretended that the night before never happened. You had expected at least a polite hello or a joke about your splitting headache, but all you received was an order passed through him by your father while you were in the gardens that surrounded your pretty castle, poised and stoic. 

It made your heart lurch in defeat, but you respected him enough to let it be and to move on your days without the normal teasing and failed attempts at getting him to hold a conversation with you. It hurt greatly, but the sting of it eased when he visibly grew more relaxed around you as you calmed your efforts. 

“Patience,” your instructor had taught you. “Is a virtue, and it is a hardship you must grow accustomed to if you want to do anything in this world. Especially for a future queen as yourself.”

It was a lot more easier said than done. Even at the tender age of just twenty-one, you still had such a hard time grasping the ethics of it. 

“You will be a fine queen one day,” Jules once told you. “But they are right about one thing: you are incredibly stubborn and reckless for a title.”

So what if you were. You respected and held knowledge for the duties of your kingdom, but why should you completely erase the person you were for what was rightfully yours?

“You’ll see it one day,” Jules promised you. “Once you start acting like an adult.”

“I do!” You argued. “It is not my fault that no one sees me.”

She snorted. “I’m sure you’ll be looking back at this shaking your head at your annoying, stubborn self.”

Maybe, but you didn’t see that anytime soon in your future. 

“Dear?”

The sound of your father’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, shaking your head to clear them away. 

“Sorry, in a bit of a daydream.” You murmured to Bringham. 

He chuckled. “You wouldn’t be my daughter if you weren’t.”

You let out her own forced chuckle at his jest, and you sat in comfortable silence as you broke your fast, talking occasionally about the day’s festivities. 

“And how are the ports?” You asked through a sip of your broth. 

“Good,” he nodded his head. “Shipments arrived last night on time. We have more coming in from Colefiend, and another set out for Point Valley in the morning.”

Riverhearth was one of the closest and affordable ports in the North. Surrounded by mountains of spring and summer, there lied an ocean in between. It certainly was not the wealthiest of surrounding kingdoms, but they made well with what they had, and the people were happy and taken care of as King Bringham and the people of the Court attuned to. 

“May I please be excused?”

Bringham gave you a quizzical look. “You may. What are your plans?”

You gave your father a smirk and a tap on the tip of your nose. He made a noise of affirmation and grinned. 

“Ah, I see. Well be sure to be back for the joust, and be careful.”

Your grin grew wider. “Of course, aren’t I always?”

Jules was in the kitchens, helping the cooks and other maidens clean up and prepare varieties of desserts for the upcoming feasts. 

“Hello, Princess,” one of the cooks, Peter, greeted you. “Would you like a taste of my new recipe?”

You hummed. “As always Peter. No need to ask of me.”

He laughed. “As you wish.”

Peter held a wooden spoon over an open palm, bringing up to you for you to taste. The sauce was rich with exotic spices, and was smooth on your taste buds. 

“It’s delicious!” You exclaimed. “Just add a pinch of salt and it’s perfection.”

He grinned and nodded, going back to hover over his new creation. “Always a keen one, Princess.”

You bounced through until you found Jules, and immediately grabbed her hand. You turned to Peter, hugging Jules close to you as she giggled and you lightly scrunched her cheeks in your hand. 

“May I borrow this lovely, beautiful, elegant, and most gullible being until the festivities?” You asked through a fit of laughter and a smack against the shoulder from your dear friend as you smiled. 

Peter laughed. “Yes, your highness. Do not wander off too far!”

You and Jules agreed and ran out of the gray but pleasant castle. You ran through the gardens, through the maze and fields of flowers blooming, and through the forest that littered by. 

The forest was peculiar in its nature. Twisted vines that protruded from dead trees - though surrounded by live ones, a little confusing to you by the oddity and spratics of it - with little weeds littering along the trail. 

The trail itself was wide enough for two people to walk through without the curves of the forest's slopes. Despite its initial darkness to it, the woods was nothing but life; it was the type of beauty You appreciated greatly. 

By the time You and Jules reached it they were out of breath, giggling and rushing towards the edge of the cliff that gave one of the most beautiful views of the waters. A tall, blossom tree hung above you as you plopped down onto the grass, careful not to ruin your blue gown. 

“The joust is going to start soon,” Jules said. 

You could hear the music from there, faint but distinctive all the same. Din would be preparing right now, polishing and sharpening his sword and putting on the heavy armor he wore every day and night. It all sounded exhausting to you. 

“Hmm.”

You basked in the sun, the salty smell of the water, blue and all. This is where you truly felt at peace, like you could strip naked without a care in the world and be free, in whatever sense you needed to be. You were sure Jules felt the same way, with the glazed look in her eyes and the longing. It made you ridden with guilt each time you saw it. 

It was when the music became louder you spotted a ship rounding the corner.

“I didn’t know we were expecting visitors,” Jules said quizzically. 

“We weren’t.” You said quietly, eyebrows furrowed. “And we’re not due for another shipment either.”

You both looked to each other, confusion etched on your faces. 

“It is time to head back anyways,” Jules told you, getting up and helping you to your feet. “We shall find out there.”

The way back was quicker. You departed when they reached the stands, hugging before you went to sit next to your father, smiling and greeting anyone who looked towards you. 

“Little late,” your father chastised. 

You ignored his remark, pausing as you saw something small sitting in your chair. At closer inspection, you realized it was a flower, a lily flower at that; it was your favorite.

“Not my gift I’m afraid,” Bringham answered before you could ask. “And I have no idea on who could’ve left it there either.”

You picked it up delicately, curling a hand over it as if you were going to pet it. Whoever had left this for you, they paid enough attention to know your flower of choice; the flower your mother had nearly named you after. 

“Do we have guests coming our way?” 

He tensed slightly, but was quick to brush it off. “Nothing to worry about my dear girl.”

You chewed on your lip, a nervous habit of hers; another inheritance from her mother her father would tell her. 

“And you’d tell me if I needed to know.”

“Of course.”

It was fruitless to press in front of the village people. You turned back to the stables, where the knights were preparing with their horses. But your scowl was still visible on your face, and your father sighed softly at the sight of it, knowing he was going to have to answer for it later. 

Everyone started to grow silent as the drums signalled the official start of the joust. Your eyes searched keenly for your knight, grinning when he saw him appear. 

You found it funny when Jules occasionally called Din the ‘Dark’ Knight. His armor was everything but, all silver, chain mail glittering in the sun. You supposed your friend was right in the sense that it certainly didn’t match his personality. 

And with all the horror stories that echoed across lands and valleys of his victories?

You could see why he was anything but innocent; light. 

You barely heard the announcements over the pounding of your heart as you watched the two knights mount their horses. Din’s was a white mare, and gentle despite its size. Sometimes you’d hear him talk to his horse, as if the horse understood the language; he probably wasn’t aware he was doing it anymore. 

Your heart thudded against your chest, watching the Black Knight, a swordsmith you believed to be an appointer of the Royal Guard named Robert. 

They readied their spears, sitting on their respectable sides. You unconsciously leaned in, flower still in hand. 

Din’s horse kicked at the ground, huffing as it prepared itself. You held your breath, as were the others. 

The horn blared and their horses took off, galloping at a furious speed towards each other. 

Robert was a decent fighter, that much you had seen in person. But Din, in your opinion, was better. 

The crowd cheered as a flurry of white and black clashed against each other. The scraping of metal against metal was prominent in the summer air, loud and aggravating. 

“Looks like I made the right choice in guard,” Bringham said. 

Din sat triumphantly as his horse ran back around, Robert laying on the ground next to him. Robert eventually got back up, and he without a doubt held a glare towards his opponent; Din sat back on his side of the stables, still and patient like a hunter with its prey. 

But Robert was also known for his temper, and threw his spear on the ground, pointing a finger at the White Knight. 

“You just tread carefully, churl.”

Anyone would have already been set off, brawling until knuckles were bruised and bloody. You never had any patience for these kinds of pettiness, and it seemed as though Din didn’t either, because he trudged back to his respective area on his horse, not giving Robert a second glance. 

“Yes,” You murmured. “You did.”

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