#we see her pick up new companions

[knightoflodis]

I really want my main characters to basically be side characters for your typical world saving heroes. Like. You follow my characters as they are just doing their normal stuff. They do go on adventures but the adventures are a little more contained and not about world ending stuff. And then every now and then they team up with a trio of young “heroes” going on the normal hero’s quest to stop some big bad from conquering/destroying the world. But the main characters miss most of the big crazy fights and just help out sometimes.

normalise giving minor background characters insane, world-changing side quests that no one in the main story ever notices.

[knife-eared-jan]

Ok, as much as I have been hyping and playing 12 hours a day since it got out (still in Act 1 though, bc I'm a slowass player and completionist), I feel like I have to say something that is getting hard to ignore at this point... and I wanna preface this by saying that I am loving a lot of aspects of the game and I adore the writing when it comes to the companions, who I am obsessed with.

And maybe this will get better yet, as I generally heard the writing picks up once the story progresses beyond picking up all companions..

But I'm starting to get quite upset at the way the writing just does NOT care about the established lore and the politics of Thedas like at all, when to me - and many others - that richness, nuance and depth of the world is what makes the games so special.

(Spoilers below)

I looked past the way the elves in Arlathan just seemed to know that their gods are evil and Solas is "kind of a dick" but was right about that. When, you know, that made him basically the Satan of their pantheon up to now.. It was after all the tutorial stage of the game and I understand that you wanna ease newcomers into the lore. I could also handwave it in-universe with Morrigan being there - she could have filled the Veiljumpers in on the discoveries of the Inquisition or even what the Well told her.

It felt a bit weird that our contacts in every other faction just accepted this huge revelation without a blink, but again it was the early stages and I also get that having a discussion about it 6 times with different faction leaders would have been incredibly tedious. So I ignored that. And yeah, at least the First Warden found it hard to swallow.

The fact that they brushed aside the gods finding elven subjects - many of whom after all still worship them - with one sentence from Solas was disappointing though. Instead they chose to ally them with the Venatori and the Antaam who are the pure evil factions with no nuance or motive to side with them besides a comic book level of hunger for power. They didn't even throw in a sentence about the gods maybe speaking to the Venatori through the Archdemons to get them on their side or how it's very ironic that the Venatori, who want to make Tevinter great again, stoop to working with the pantheon of the people they oppress because they see them as lesser and other. No political exploration of the massive lore implications at all.

It really hit me when I picked up Davrin and he commented how Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain blighting the world would really endear us (elves) to the rest of Thedas - this was the first time anyone actually mentioned the political impact of the elven gods being real, freed, evil and blighted on modern day elves at all, when this should be HUGE. It should be ugly. It should be complex. It should be explored in as many examples as bloodmagic and the oppression of mages was in DA2. It should be a central point of Act 1. (This btw made me love Davrin so much in that moment because this was the first time in the game for me when I actually felt like talking to a Dragon Age elf and even just that one line felt like home.)

And now I just did Taash's first companion quest and it seems Qunari lore is also being ignored (except for the gender aspect of it, which I look forward to). Taash's mum was a scholar and had a baby and the only problem about that was that it could breathe fire and was special but otherwise all would have been dandy? Like she would have just been allowed to keep Taash long enough to find that out about her baby if she was living under the Qun? That directly contradicts everything we know about how the Qunari's culture around reproduction and childcare works.

Sorry to be negative and talking myself into a rage - I know it's not something people want to see rn. But like, I realise you have to brush over some lore intricacies for brevity and to make it digestible for new players. But this is a world initially inspired by Wheel of Time and ASOIAF, both of which are interesting because of the depth of ficitional cultures, lore and politics, and hence it's also what gives Dragon Age its appeal. And now they take us to the most politcally interesting areas on the world map and just get rid of all of political depth?

That's really disappointing. Imagine if Winds of Winter dropped all political themes just because there's several previous books and it's been some a lot of years.

Also, I managed to play DA2 before I ever played Origins and they could introduce me to a vast established background of lore just fine back then.

Sorry. Rant over. But I had to get that out of my system.

[moonlitdesertdreams]

On the Surface

A/N: Nothing important, please enjoy and send me more ideas! Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader, Lucy MacLean WARNINGS: None Summary: Lucy knew traveling with the Ghoul would be tough, but no one told her it would be so... weird. Especially when he stops to pick up another companion along the way.

Word count: 1.2k+

(GIF credit to @talesfromthecrypts)

Lucy surely didn’t know what to expect when she trudged along after the Ghoul and Wilzig’s dog, charmed by its new companion. 

She followed, weighed down by the revelations Moldaver had laid bare. It had pulled the curtain away from her entire life and ripped her heart to shreds. Between seeing her father flee and leaving Maximus, her mind was heavy with pain. 

The Ghoul was absolute zero on the comfort scale. He walked silently, only breaking it to mutter hypothetical questions at the dog- so affectionately called Dogmeat- and cough dryly. Lucy decided they had to have been walking for hours through sparse woods and dry ground before a flickering light appeared on the horizon. 

And after everything she’d been through, she fully expected another fight. 

But the Ghoul seemed to gain some motivation at the sight, and moved along at a quicker pace than they had been. Lucy was able to make out the shape of a small campfire burning, less than ten feet away from a fairly large, but crudely-built cabin. It was tucked into a patch of dead trees, and had what she thought to be clothes hanging on clotheslines outside. Even the dog was excited, barking loudly and jogging up to the cabin. 

Lucy stopped a few yards away, apprehension freezing her limbs into place. The Ghoul continued on, hopping lithely onto the front porch and knocking at the door. Again, she expected the occupant to come out, guns blazing, and be killed by the man at her door. 

Maybe he’d even make Lucy carve pieces of them off to make jerky again.

What she didn’t expect was the door to open, and the Ghoul to crack a smile she’d never seen. A figure- a woman- stepped out onto the porch. Lucy watched them exchange a few words before the woman leaned in towards the Ghoul and…. hugged him?

What the fuck even was this place?

The Ghoul, always cold and callous with Lucy, chuckled out loud. “Miss me, sugar?”

When she pulls away, the woman is beaming. “Every day.”

Lucy probably looks like a whole fool, jaw gaping and brow furrowed in confusion. She stares at the woman, who eventually turns an eye to her. 

“What’s this? Gettin’ some on the side, Cowboy?” The still unnamed woman trots off the porch towards the Vault-Dweller. 

Upon closer inspection, the woman doesn’t appear as angry as her statement. She’s got long hair wrapped into a complicated braided style to keep it up and out of her face. There’s a smattering of freckles over her sunburnt nose, and a jagged scar running the length of her right cheek. The gnarled tissue pulls her mouth into a scowl, but she’s otherwise well-kept. She’s probably three or four inches shorter than Lucy, but no less intimidating. 

“Calm down, woman.” The Ghoul bites. “This is Lucy MacLean.”

The woman pauses, looking back to him for confirmation before staring back at Lucy. “MacLean, eh? I can see it.”

Spurs clank as the Ghoul takes those slow, scary steps towards the woman. “Thought you might be interested in comin’ along. We’re followin’ her dad. Hank.”

A smile twists the lady’s lips, fighting against the wretched scar on her face. “Come on in. We can leave in the morning.”

And that’s how Lucy finds herself in the rickety cabin. The woman- who still hadn’t offered up a name, much like her Ghoul friend- had led her to a room and tossed a scratchy blanket and pillow in behind her. Despite her gruff exterior, she had told Lucy there was a pantry in the kitchen full of non-perishables, and cans of purified water hidden in the back. And though water sounded beautiful, Lucy was more stoked about the water purifier connected to the house. She was told there was cold but clean water in a makeshift wash room to clean up.

So Lucy took her time to freshen up in the first relatively put-together place she’d been since coming up from the Vault. The little cabin did have lights, thanks to a generator that hummed along outside. She was able to scrub the grime from her face and hands, and attempted to do the same with her Vault-suit. There was an old Nuka-cola  bottle on the floor in the washroom with ‘SOAP’ scratched across it in cursive. It lathered like any other that Lucy remembered, and she felt like a new person walking out of the wash room and back into her own little space. 

Unsurprisingly, her empty stomach reared its head in protest, and she decided she’d make one last trip to the pantry before bed. There were no voices outside of her room, just the humming of an old Television setup she’d seen on her way in. Lucy tiptoes back to the junction of the living area and pantry, but stops dead in her tracks. The lights are all off, and it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust. 

The living area right inside the door, the one she’d passed by on her way in, was occupied by both the Ghoul and his mysterious friend. However, instead of the simple sofa she’d observed prior, it was now pulled out into a bed. 

A bed in which the woman and the Ghoul were curled up,  completely unconscious. 

Lucy almost feels bad intruding on the situation, but she’s more bewildered that anyone could show such affection towards the irradiated man she’d come to hate over the past few days. And they’re not even just sharing the bed, they’re tangled together and… cuddling? The Ghoul is on his back, head propped on a pillow and hat still on his head but tipped down low to hide his disfigured face. The long coat he’d worn day in and day out is hanging over the armrest beside his bandolier, guns easily accessible. And the woman, looking relaxed as ever, is curled up on her side with her head on his chest. The Ghoul has one arm curled around her shoulder, the other loosely gripping his inhaler device as he sleeps. 

Lucy collects her jaw off the floor and scoots along to the pantry, snagging a couple ration bars and a can of water before heading back. She tries not to look again as she goes back to her room, but the temptation is too great. She pauses, turning back only to hear the click of a gun being cocked. 

In the darkness, she can only see the whites of the Ghoul’s eyes and a flash of teeth. “Move along, Vaultie.”

Lucy obeys, and practically dashes back to her room. 

So when they move out in the morning, Lucy pretends not to notice anything. When the pair stops their trek and leans in close to murmur directions at each other, Lucy taps away at her Pip-Boy. 

There’s even a time where she returns from gathering water to find them locked in a kiss, coats swaying in the Wasteland wind. And Lucy had immediately backed up, lingering in the treeline until they broke apart. 

The displays of affections continue with the travels, and it wasn’t odd to wake up to the sight of the woman curled beneath her Ghoul’s arm, content as ever. Days pass, and Lucy doesn’t mention it. It’s kind of cute, she comes to think. She didn’t dare mention anything in fear of the Ghoul’s wrath. 

So their odd trio trots along through the desert, letting Dogmeat take the lead. 

And Lucy? Well, she's learning to be blissfully ignorant towards the abnormalities on the surface.

----

thanks for reading, much love ❤️

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

[ozzgin]

Hii I was wondering if u could do a yandere Kazuya x yn x yandere Daitou I’m not sure if u do character x yn x character tho

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader Spinoff

Two yakuza men who have fallen in love with their new foreign tenant. A what-if spinoff to the original story for that love triangle spice. Happy Valentine's Day!

Content: female reader, NSFW, organized crime, obsessive behavior, violence, BDSM themes (choking), threats

Credits: My boyfriend for giving me the Daitou smut idea

[Main Story] | [General Headcanons]

Kazuya is sitting on the sidewalk, checking his watch occasionally and tapping his foot. The cigarette seems to have been forgotten, hanging lowly from his lips.

"Sorry I'm late." Daitou speedily makes his way towards his friend, smiling awkwardly.

"Where the fuck were you, man? We don't know how much time we have before the cops arrive."

"Uh uh, leave it to me." The cheeky grin doesn't leave his face as he pulls out his gun and carefully but swiftly inspects the barrel and safety one final time. "(Y/N) needed some help with the mailbox. I couldn't just say no, ya know?"

The blonde man's eyebrows raise for a second, but he quickly recollects himself.

"I see. That's good."

"She asked me to show her the area tomorrow, so I'll be working extra hard tonight. Hehe."

"That's good."

Daitou glances at Kazuya, somewhat wary.

"You okay?"

Stupid question. What's he supposed to answer? Yeah, he loves waiting like a dumbass while his friend flirts with the new tenant, who conveniently happens to be a cute foreigner, who's been unexpectedly nice and relaxed around them despite them explicitly stating they're part of the Japanese mafia. Fucking hell. It doesn't help that this idiot is as obvious as a blaring, blinding cluster of ads smack in the middle of Kabukicho. He can tell from miles away that Daitou's completely fallen for her. Just like that, in an instant.

They've been partners and best friends for years now, so the natural reaction would be happiness, right? Daitou has always been one scary motherfucker. Even the seniors scramble when he's in the room, let alone women. For him to find someone that isn't bothered the slightest by his appearance or background should be a celebratory occasion. Kazuya should be rooting for him. Except, well, he fell for you just as hard. Tough luck.

The Bushido moral code, often used as guidance within their own lifestyle, covers matters such as loyalty and honesty quite extensively. A true warrior remains fiercely faithful to his master or companions. And yet, love interests are more of a grey area, especially if they happen to overlap. Who dictates the proper etiquette for this dilemma? To whom is loyalty directed towards? Truth be told, Kazuya couldn’t care less. He’s always been a man of vice, impulsive and greedy. If he wants something, he takes it.

The trouble starts when the other person is of the same mindset. Two ferocious predators eyeing the same victim.

***

You fiddle next to the tall, dark-haired man. Similarly, Daitou is avoiding eye contact, looking around in hopes of finding something to focus on. It’s the first time he’s come over since the incident. After his little mission with Kazuya, he was tasked to “interrogate” some of the remaining members to get even more names for the hitlist. He’d completely forgotten about his promise to show you the neighborhood. Hands sticky with blood, he was in the middle of his signature act of benevolence, putting the lad out of his misery.

It was around that time you decided to be the one picking him up instead, for your grand tour. Your knocks on the door remained unheard, however, so you decided to politely make your way in.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not-”

You froze in place. A man (you assumed at least based on the few visible traits left), tied up on the chair, canvas bag roped around his head. Daitou’s hands were secured around his throat. In the few seconds of silence, you could hear a muffled wheezing, as the stranger’s chest heaved in short convulsions.

“-intruding.” You mumbled, regaining your speech.

He messed up, didn’t he? Daitou sighs and slicks his hair back. He can’t blame you if you’re now terrified of him. He had to come over for some tenant checkups and you’ve been maintaining a safe distance from him during his entire visit. What can he possibly tell you? “Hey, I know I threatened to chop you up and you’ve now witnessed firsthand I’m a legit murderer, but, uh…I have a crush on you? Dinner at seven?”

You’re terrified alright, but not of his deeds. Rather, your newly discovered perversion as a consequence of the gory scene. It’s not that you relished in the torment of another. It’s the other details that left you reminiscing. Daitou’s imposing frame, the unbuttoned shirt revealing his traditional tattoos glistening in beads of sweat, his flexed, brawny arms, and large hands. You’re scared of your shamelessness. It can’t be normal. Yet you can’t stop thinking about it. Just a glimpse into this memory and your cheeks become burning red.

“I’ll be on my way then”, the yakuza announces politely.

Though he immediately stops in his tracks, and you realize you’ve unconsciously grabbed onto his sleeve. Uh oh. What now? You mumble an apology without releasing your hold. Being this close to him makes your heart drum inside your chest.

To hell with it.

“I might say something terribly inappropriate right now, but…”

“Sorry?” He stares at you, dumbfounded.

“Do you have anything planned after this?” You ask quietly.

“N-no?”

“Would you mind staying over?”

“Huh? Sure…w-what for?” His mouth is dry, and he searches your eyes in confusion.

“You know…” Choke me until I pass out and such, you think to yourself sarcastically.

He turns to face you, lips pursed awkwardly.

“You’ll have to be clear with me, Miss (Y/N). I’m not good with all this tiptoeing around and I might get the wrong idea.”

Your ears perk up hearing his final words, a deep blush now spreading over your flustered features.

“What wrong idea?”

Daitou fidgets with his glass prosthetic nervously.

“Well, uh, a man can only dream, ya know? Especially around a cute girl like you.” He reveals with a stutter.

“Suppose I’d be willing to go along with anything on your mind. What then?” You twirl your hair, gazing shyly at the floor. Not even you can believe the audacity leaving your lips.

The tall man steps before you, towering above with a certain gleam in his eye. It’s yearning. Your knees weaken.

“Don’t tease me, please. I can hardly control myself around you as it is.”

You release his sleeve and instead cling onto his shirt with both hands, looking up through your lashes.

“I’m dead serious.”

He ponders his next move with a click of the tongue, then cups your cheeks between his hands and lowers himself until his hot breath tickles your nose.

“Are you? There’s no going back after this. Can you handle it?” His voice is suddenly deeper, raspier.

Before you can respond, you feel yourself lifted and you yelp, surprised, instinctively wrapping your limbs around the yakuza. In between the greedy kisses that leave your lips bruised and swollen, you don’t notice the movement back towards the seating area.

As you pull away to gasp for air, he throws you onto the couch, flipping you over in the process so that you’re kneeling away from him. Your nails dig into the soft fabric of the sofa. You hear Daitou unbuckle his belt and you squeeze your legs together, heavily aroused. He presses his palm gently into your back, arching it. You sense his fingers grazing over your core and you whimper.

“G-go on, please.” You beg, swaying your hips tentatively. “I really can’t wait anymore.”

“As you wish, Miss.” He reassures you with a grin.

He adjusts himself and carefully makes his way in. You don’t have time to enjoy the feeling; following almost instantly is his belt looped around your neck, tightening under his grip as he pulls the ends towards him. Your head is forced back, and you groan. You can hear the leather stretch and creak over your assaulted skin, the constriction briefly cutting your oxygen intake. Hot drool trickles down your chin and your eyes almost roll back in pleasure.

“Look at my little Miss (Y/N), taking it like a champion.” He bends over and bites your earlobe playfully. “Does that mean I can be as rough as I want?”

You nod erratically.

The grip around your throat intensifies and your vision becomes blurry.

“Hey, don’t pass out now.” He inserts two fingers in your mouth, pulling you by the cheek and tilting your head to look him in the eye. “Not before you show me that you understand your situation. You’re mine. Is that clear?”

He drags his fingers downwards, aiding your response as you struggle to contract your muscles.

“Attagirl.” He concludes, satisfied.

In the morning you wake up with a dreadful soreness, and you can quickly see why. Your body is peppered in bruises. Daitou is smoking by the window and promptly flicks his cigarette out once he realizes you’re no longer asleep.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He begins, remorseful, and squats in front of the bed. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“I will need a day or two to recover before the next time, but otherwise I’m fine.”

He beams with delight upon registering your words: next time. You can’t help but snicker at his childish enthusiasm. It’s a mystery how Daitou can switch between ruthless killer and cute partner with such ease.

Although it’s no secret, really. It’s you.

***

“Thanks for driving me home, Kazuya.”

You smile and unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching for the door handle. Daitou has been busy with work for the past days, so Kazuya took his place in looking after your needs.

“Huh?” You rattle the grab handle one more time to make sure. “It’s still locked.”

The blonde raps the wheel impatiently with his fingers. Is he to silently accept his loss? Does it even count as a loss when he hasn’t even had the chance to present his piece? Daitou has been quiet about it, but he can read that bastard like an open book. Something definitely happened between the two of you and the mere thought drives him insane.

Ah, this is so unlike him. There are few things he cares about. His pride, his Family’s honor, his freedom. Women aren’t exactly on that list, yet somehow, you’ve snuck your way to the very top of priorities and he’s realizing it just now. It’s becoming harder to ignore his maddening urge to have you. Out of all the things…He’d give Daitou the world. But not you. He can’t. He can’t.

“Kazuya? Are you listening? You forgot to unlock the door.”

“Say, (Y/N) …ever fucked in a car before?”

“What?” You ask, baffled.

“Come here for a moment.” He swiftly slides his seat all the way back and pats his thigh.

“Are you out of your mind?”

He answers your inquiry by pulling out his handgun and lazily pointing it towards you.

“I’m only going to ask once.”

You clumsily climb over the center console, straddling the yakuza with a slight pout.

“Someone’s in a sour mood, that’s for sure”, you complain. “It’s not even loaded.”

“Even I’m not crazy enough to risk shooting my Princess.” He smiles apologetically, throwing the gun on the backseat. “I thought it’d be more threatening that way.”

He removes a strand of hair from your face, gazing at you intently. His hand lingers for a second, before sliding its way down, tracing the side of your body. You shiver.

“Can you truly blame me when there’s such a pretty girl right before my eyes?” The blonde exhales and focuses on your shirt instead. “Won’t you let me prove myself?”

From this distance, despite the dim lights, you can discern his features in agonizing detail. His long lashes, his fleshy lips, currently parted, the luscious locks of hair casually thrown back. Kazuya has always been effortlessly handsome. It’s not just his good looks, but his overflowing charisma. He always knows exactly what to say and do. A devilish power to have over people, and you’re presently his victim.

His slender fingers play with your first button and cheekily undo it. You can only observe it, entranced. Your legs are weak, and your arms are stuck in place, resting limply over his broad shoulders.

“May I?” He glances up at you with a pleading expression. “I won’t be able to hold back afterwards.”

You bite your lower lip, distracted. Whether or not this is a wise choice, you can’t currently tell. You squirm in his lap and suddenly feel the pressure coming from below.

“Go ahead.” You finally confess.

He doesn’t hesitate and slithers his hand underneath your shirt, popping the rest of the buttons open. Like a hungry animal that has stumbled upon a feast, he sinks his teeth into your neck, leaving mean, wet kisses on his way down.

One hand is greedily kneading your curves, encouraged by your soft whimpers, while the other strokes your thigh in anticipation. With a bit of readjustment, he finds the right spot between your trembling legs. You jolt at the sensation of his cold fingers.

“My, you’re already dripping. How lewd.” He whispers between breaths. “Do you want it now?”

He nonchalantly slips out and undoes his own pants. You lift yourself expectantly and let a moan escape your lips upon feeling the erection throbbing right below.

“Well then, can’t forget our manners, can we?” He announces, visibly excited. “What should I do?”

You glare at him, feverish.

“Stop teasing me.”

“Come on, be a good girl. Tell me what to do and I will do it, Love.”

Why, this…You lower yourself to his ear and answer in a lulled whine.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to fuck me.”

Words enough to send the blonde man over the edge. He abruptly clutches your thighs for support, easing himself in before continuing with increasingly aggressive thrusts. Husky whimpers roll out of his mouth, desperate and starved.

“Oh, I’ve waited so long for this. My darling, perfect little (Y/N).” He presses his forehead into your chest, indulging in the moment. “Now say that you’re mine. Please. Please say it.”

“I’m…ah…I’m all yours, Kazuya.” You manage to blurt out, growing dizzy.

“That’s my girl. Such a good girl.”

Once the deed is finished, you flop your head over his chest, trying to catch your breath. Kazuya smoothens your clothes meticulously, holding you with one arm for support. Can’t leave a lady all disheveled, after all.

“Won��t Daitou be upset?” You point out, somewhat anxiously.

His muscles are tense for a second and he furrows his brows.

“That’s one strange way to thank me for making you come at least twice. Mentioning another man’s name.”

“I’m just…” your words trail off.

“What? Worried? You think I can’t handle it or something?”

Far from the truth. Both Kazuya and Daitou are violent, dangerous men. Given their stubbornness, you’re rather certain they’d end up killing each other. Not your favorite outcome.

“I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

He sighs loudly.

“I’ll tell you what. Under normal circumstances, I’d probably dismember whoever had the guts to even entertain the idea of meddling with you. But…just because it’s Daitou, I might be willing to share. Nothing more than that.”

Kazuya ruffles your hair and chuckles.

“Aren’t you glad I’m such a diplomat, Love?”

“More like batshit crazy, both of you.” You retort, stretching.

[gullamor]

Nothing Good Happens In The Deep Roads

Hi, I'm new here to Dragon Age Tumblr. Publicly, anyway. I lurk. Anyway, I've been playing Veilguard like many of us I imagine. For show and tell I have brought you the most paranoia-inducing segment of one of the companion quests and I like... haven't seen anyone mention it or talk about it so I would like to add it to the collective borg of screams. So, like, spoilers. Duh. You've been warned.

Still here? No turning back. Okay good. Welcome.

SO ANWAY. I'm on a second playthrough now, trying out new options and classes and things. I get around to that point where you start to get companion quests fired up and Lace's kicks in earlier than a lot of them to me at least. Ya go down to the Deep Roads where nothing good ever happens. And my first time through, visiting Kal-Sharok I distinctly remember it being... fine. Like there were darkspawn and stuff but that's just the deep roads and they cranked the gross factor on the darkspawn anyway, so... what gives? Where are my bad vibes and sad times now of going down in the deep roads where nothing good ever happens? Enter playthrough numero dos. I'm picking through Kal-Sharok, really getting up in there. Trying to find all the things I missed. I was standing at the precipice before delving down into the Deep Roads. And my eye snags on this fucking thing:

Now, y'all with color coordination skills may note that all the bad guys and evil shit down here is red-coded. In my brain, I was just thinking to myself. Huh... that looks like a Venatori crystal. ... I don't remember there being Venatori on Lace's quest. So naturally, I'm curious. I continue on, and try to get up closer to get a better angle.

Huh.. that doesn't look like a venatori smashy smashy crystal... that looks like a person... And then ALL AT ONCE I recall where her questline continues and how there's angry Red Lyrium Titan Lace by the end of her questline AND that Valta mentions 'something has found Lace' when we're talking to them and then we get jumped. There's no shot that's angry lyrium Lace... right..? So now like any sane person, I'm on my guard the entire rest of that quest. And I was fucking right to be BECAUSE SHE STALKS YOU THE ENTIRE TIME. I eventually remembered as I was playing you can zoom in with the photo mode they blessed us with and could see Lace. But they stalk you through the entire area until you get to the chamber where Valta is. I don't know if I caught them all, and I am too frightened to go back and find it so I dump all my findings here for the community to scream with me about.

tl;dr, and my thesis statement in all things with these games Nothing. Good. Happens. In the Deep Roads.

[pandapetals]

Ornament Decorating

Let’s get into the holiday spirit. Welcome to my 7 days of holiday one-shots. I celebrate christmas so sorry to anyone who doesn’t but i hope you can still enjoy it.

You helped some of the students decorate ornaments until they got bored. Now, you and some of the other adults decide to do it.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor, ornament decorating, x-men group, logan is a softie

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @saradika

You sat in the mansion's large dining room, a scattering of paint pots, glitter, and craft supplies spread across the round wooden table. A few of the younger kids had joined you for the holiday ornament-making activity, but, as usual, they’d lost interest halfway through, leaving their half-finished decorations behind in favor of playing tag in the hallways.

“At least you tried,” Ororo said, handing you a few of the ornaments abandoned by the kids. She chuckled, shaking her head as she looked at the quirky snowman with one eye that had already begun to droop. "I did see a few of them smiling, though. That counts for something."

You sighed, though a smile crept onto your face as you picked up the snowman and gave it a small touch-up. "Guess that’s all I can hope for," you replied, brushing a bit of glitter off your hands. "Besides, we could use some new ornaments this year. Most of the old ones look like they’ve seen a few battles."

Ororo raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Mind if I join you? I could use a little holiday spirit myself."

"Please do." You handed her a blank ornament and a paintbrush, then smiled as Rogue wandered by, pausing mid-step when she saw what you were up to.

"Y’all makin’ ornaments?" Rogue asked, her eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint. "Scoot over—I’m in."

The three of you quickly settled into a rhythm, painting, and decorating in companionable silence. You were working on your third ornament when you heard the low rumble of Logan’s voice from across the room.

“What’re you doin’, sweetheart?” he asked, strolling over with Scott in tow. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he took in the table strewn with paint, glitter, and a small mountain of cotton balls.

You looked up, unable to hide your grin, and held up your latest creation—a snowman with an oversized hat and a bright red scarf sporting a pair of familiar-looking claws. "Making some ornaments. You inspired this one."

Logan let out a low chuckle, leaning over to inspect your work. “Hmph. Looks like you’ve captured my good side,” he murmured, nodding approvingly at the tiny, fierce-looking snowman.

Scott rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he took in the array of ornaments on the table. "You really think you’re gonna get Logan to make ornaments?” he asked, smirking. "Good luck with that."

But to Scott’s surprise, Logan pulled out a chair and plopped down beside you, picking up a blank wooden ornament and a small brush. "Watch and learn Summers," he muttered, already dipping the brush in a deep forest green.

You exchanged a knowing smile with Ororo, who winked at you. "Logan’s got a bit of a creative side, actually," you said, nudging him playfully with your elbow. "Remember those little wooden stars and reindeer that mysteriously appeared on the tree last year?"

Scott’s mouth dropped open. "Wait—that was you? I thought those were store-bought or… I don’t know, crafted by some holiday elf."

Logan grunted, clearly a bit embarrassed but also pleased. "I can work with my hands, Summers," he replied, a hint of pride in his tone as he carefully painted the edge of his ornament. "Not just for beatin’ up bad guys."

Rogue snickered, holding up her ornament—a lopsided snowflake dripping with glitter. "Guess you learn somethin’ new every day," she teased, giving Logan an exaggerated wink. "Logan, the craftsman."

Logan rolled his eyes, but you caught the faintest smile tugging at his lips as he picked up a small knife and began carefully etching tiny snowflakes onto the surface of his wooden ornament. His focus was intense, and you could see his artistic side slipping through in the careful lines and details he added.

"Look at you, all precise and delicate," you teased, leaning closer to peek over his shoulder. "I think you might actually be enjoying this, Logan."

He glanced up, eyes crinkling at the corners as he gave you a playful glare. "Don’t push it," he muttered, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed him. He handed you the ornament he’d just finished—a beautifully carved snowflake with intricate details that practically sparkled even without glitter. "Here, for you."

Your heart melted as you took the ornament, fingers brushing against his briefly. "It’s beautiful. See? You’re secretly a softie."

Scott, watching this exchange with a mix of amusement and disbelief, leaned in closer. "I gotta say, this is the last thing I thought I’d see today—Wolverine, all domestic and festive."

Logan snorted, tossing a handful of glitter in Scott’s direction. "Keep talkin’, Summers, and I’ll make sure your next ornament’s a fist."

Everyone burst out laughing, the sound filling the room as you all settled back into your work, the holiday spirit wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You ended up with a quirky collection of ornaments: Ororo’s hand-painted pinecones, Rogue’s glittery snowflakes, and Logan’s intricately carved wood pieces that brought a touch of elegance to the tree.

As the evening wound down, Logan nudged you with his shoulder, his eyes warm as he looked at the pile of ornaments on the table. "You know," he said softly, "this turned out pretty good. I don’t mind doin’ this if it’s with you."

You smiled, leaning into him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you. "Well, don’t get too used to it," you teased. "Next year, you’re in charge."

Logan groaned, but the smile on his face didn’t fade, and as the two of you admired your handiwork, you couldn’t help but think that this—sitting together, making silly ornaments, and laughing with friends—was exactly what the holidays were meant to be.

[fanarchoslashivist]

I think what I love about Vontra is that you immediately pick up that she's an antagonist.

Spoilery bits below, mostly I'm rambling.

We spent this whole movie with characters being introduced as threats, they attack Roz, break her, steal peices of her, insult her. Roz is subjected to the brutality of the food chain every scene of the movie, but for the animals this is natural, this is normal. You eat others, others eat you, you fight to stay alive every day.

Roz's compassion in encoded into her, it's the human pack bonding that makes everyone in the film think she's weird, and she never loses this most human part of herself. Proof that she was made by human hands, it saves her and everyone else.

Except that it's a part of human kind that humans in power don't like.

The place that made Roz wants everything to be perfect, it's a city of the future, an oasis for select humans to escape what is slowly revealed to be a world in ruins from climate change, but we never see more of that except the passing scenery of destroyed cities.

Life is still growing, still thriving, and corporations are still building walled cities and promising the ultra wealthy a completely subservient servant class.

When the ship arrives to collect Roz, the ship she's been trying to signal half the movie, we don't know what to expect. Are they friendly? Are they here to fix her? She's been slowly breaking down the final half of the movie, leaking fluid, losing peices, shutting down as her battery depletes faster and faster. She gets fatigued, she uses a prosthetic, she goes days without moving.

She is disabled.

And down from this ship that is supposed to rescue her drops a peppy sounding companion who promises to 'fix' her.

Even though she is programmed to sound happy to put others at ease, as she states, you know immediately that she is Bad News.

The way she talks down to Roz, her manner of speech, her constant invasion of personal space, her pointed questions that are obviously accusations.

Yeah we all went "ooh toxic yuri >3" because we love queer coded villains getting flirty.

But it was also very obviously meant to feel violating, specifically similar to medical violation.

Roz was on display as a disabled robot, something in need of repair, in need of help, but Vontra saw her as something needing to be Corrected, not simply fixed but full factory reset, all the bits of her that are unique sent away to be studied.

Roz wanted help, she wanted to belong, she wanted to be repaired, but she also still wanted to be HER. However it's her disability that influenced her changes in coding, she needed to create her own updates to get around issues she faced, and it created a personality she enjoyed being.

She wanted a choice, but Vontra was programmed to see all deviation from the norm as something in need of repair. Roz wasn't a person in need of help, she was a defect to be collected, studied, adjusted, and put back out into production.

Respecting Roz, her boundaries, her thought process, even her willingness to be touched, it didn't even occur to Vontra. Because Vontra is a robot programmed to collect broken robots, and Roz is a broken robot.

[ippipo]

self aware caleb

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

it was crazy. but it was fun. every weekday as soon as you were back home, you would call him and go about your day. doing the laundry, making dinner, cleaning the house, it just came to you naturally with caleb. it was all so domestic.

"yeah, and she was deranged the entire summer," you gossip with him. "and he kept spreading rumours that he was being abused by his ex to get her attention."

"weird way to get a girl," he remarks. "so fucking weird," you add.

"anyway, how's life in your gameland?" you ask, earning a sigh in response. "it's alright, playing out of script is so much better," he replies.

"i wish you were here," you let it out, the longing for a companion getting to you. "me too," he frowns.

the weekend was slow and slightly relieving because you got all the time in the world to relax. holidays were on their way in a bit, and you were so excited to spend it by doing nothing with caleb.

caleb would sometimes monitor your phone, using it to listen to music from your world and play games. sometimes he would search random things about humans on earth on google just for the sake of it. he couldn't care less about anyone except you.

but one day, he stumbled upon your notes app. he didn't know you used it as a journal, and accidentally opened a note of yours.

it was a note from when you were 13. the language wasn't too advanced but for a 13 year old, it was pretty great. he felt bad for invading your privacy, but he noticed the word 'boyfriend' and became curious.

p.s. this is an actual entry of mine from when i was 13 lmao

"dear notes (idk what to call you lol),

i finally got a boyfriend after a thousand years of waiting. he's a little ugly but he's funny, so it's okay. he is shorter than me but he looks pretty, so plus point. we nearly kissed today but i wanted to wait until i turned 16. but in case i end up realising he's too boring for me, this is what i want in a boy.

he should be taller, hotter, stronger, and waaaay more intelligent than these bozos at my school. please make him rich and fancy. i want generational wealth, not trauma. but even if he isn't rich, don't make him ugly and boring, guys at school already do that. if the spirits can see this, i swear to never kiss anyone until i turn 18,

thank you."

he was giggling like a school girl after reading it. he was so invested in reading some of your other notes until he heard your voice. you were arguing with someone, and he couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"no, i told you that i don't like her. she gives me the heebie jeebies," your voice booms in the room. "but she taught you in 6th grade, be nice and just meet her. her son is your age too, maybe you'll finally find someone to date!" an older woman's voice spoke.

caleb felt uncomfortable with the idea of you looking for someone to date. it didn't sit right with him. he shakes the thoughts away and focuses back on the conversation.

"her son is literally dating my friend," you deadpan. your mom, as he assumes her to be, is dumbfounded. "but be respectful and meet her for the love of god," your mom snaps at you. "she used to literally pick on me, if she died, i would wish everyone a happy new year," this remark of yours makes him snort.

".....y/n, do you have a pig in your house?" your mom questions you suspiciously, making caleb freeze. "no? uh...that was just- i farted!" you immediately cover up. caleb was trying so hard not to laugh. "i keep telling you to exercise to control gas but you never listen. did you know how happy i felt when you left for college because i didn't have to bear with the constant farting at home?" your mom nags.

you panic internally, not wanting caleb to hear about this part of your life. you wanted to crawl into a coffin and bury yourself alive. "it's just a natural process, mom. please, just go home now. i need to complete some work."

as soon as your mom leaves, you pick up your phone. "now listen here you piece of shit, you heard nothing, not even a single damn word," you aggressively tell him. "yes, ma'am," he responds from the other side. "but, i recently heard about someone having a farting problem, although i don't know who."

"caleb!" you warn him. you bury your head in your hands from the shame. he laughs out loud at this.

a few minutes later, he remembers what he did, guilty consuming him. "hey, uh, listen," he nervously calls out. "i might have accidentally read your notes, i didn't mean to. i'm so sorry," he frantically apologizes. great, another reason to kill yourself today.

"...what did you read?" you ask helplessly. "just something from when you were thirteen, about your boyfriend and stuff," he replies casually, as if he didn't just read about your inner demons. "it was cute," he remarks.

"caleb, my love, snoop around the notes app again and i'll make sure you don't see the light of day," you threaten him. he apologizes again, but was slightly amused. "i just hope nothing more embarrassing happens after this or i might just jump off the terrace," you groan.

later that night while caleb was once again, unfortunately curious, snooping around your phone. he was just finding out about different apps. he was about to listen to some music when he heard a gasp. alarmed, he began paying attention to the sound, thinking you were in trouble.

"oh, fuck!" you moan out loud when your vibrator's intensity increases. your body convulsing at the stimulation your clit was receiving. your soft gasps were ever so clear to him. his entire body begins warming up, his pants making him uncomfortable.

he intently listens to your whimpers and whines, imagining how it would be to eat you out. devour you fully and deeply till you're nothing but a beautiful mess, all because of him. his boner getting more painful as time passes by, but he just can't stop listening.

it gets worse when he hears your moans getting louder, indicating your climax. good lord, he was so in trouble right now.

if you knew he could hear every little sound you were making, you might have just gone along your earlier statement.

[thelostconsultant]

Just a machine

pairing: Max Verstappen x android!reader

summary: Max received an android as a gift, but he didn't expect to fall in love with her within a matter of months.

note: So this is something I started to work on, it sat in my google docs for months, but idk, something feels off. But I didn't want to leave it there, so here is all I have written so far, bon appétit. \\ PS: Kamski and CyberLife are from Detroit: Become Human. It's a video game if you're not familiar.

Every once in a while Max looks at her, notes that she’s the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and then he remembers that under this human disguise she’s just a machine. Keeping an emotional distance is the key, at least that’s what Kamski told him when he gave him this android. But even then something told him that the man wasn’t speaking honestly, that he thought differently and wasn’t one to keep a distance from his artificial children. 

It’s only been a few months since she became a part of his life. He picked her up in Detroit after the Las Vegas GP, going to the home of the CyberLife founder who wanted to give him one of the prototypes as a present in person. And in secret. Even though their androids have a small LED on their temple, they could cover them so no one would find out they’re not human. So she got on his jet and traveled back to Monaco with him, settling into her new life quite easily and without anyone finding out he now has an android companion. 

“What’s your plan for today?” she asks with a warm smile as she prepares his breakfast, even though he told her not to bother. 

But she doesn’t let him do anything around the house anymore, she took the lead when it comes to these things. At least he managed to convince her to leave cleaning to the woman who had been coming to his home for the past years. It’s a small win, but it means a lot to him. In return she insists on staying out of the way every time the cleaning lady comes over, so Max usually takes her somewhere nice for that time.

He leans over the kitchen island to take a closer look at the way she cuts the fruit for the blender, then his eyes move up to her face. Silence fills the room when the knife stills in her hand and she looks back at him. For a moment—just for a fleeting moment—he forgets how to breathe, but then he pulls himself together and goes, “I don’t know. We could get in the car and just drive somewhere far from here. Or we could go buy you some new clothes for next week,” he offers, his eyes carefully scanning her face to see if either of these options caught her interest.

Seconds pass in silence that’s only broken by a thoughtful hum. “We can do whatever you’d prefer, they both sound good,” she says in the end, her smile growing wider before she returns her attention to the fruit.

Max doesn’t let her get away with this, though, because he wants her to choose, to make a decision based on what she wants, not based on what he wants. “Pick one.” Her brows furrow as she glances up at him with a confused look on her gorgeous face. “I want this to be your choice.”

“But—”

“No but!” Max says with a laugh as he reaches out for a piece of strawberry. “Come on, make a choice. Driving or shopping?” he asks.

If the little LED was still visible, it would surely be red now, he knows that. It’s obvious that she doesn’t like the idea of being forced to choose instead of following her owner’s wish, but he wants to see how far she can go, how much she can bend her programming. After all, he doesn’t want a servant, he wants a partner, a companion, someone he can rely on and have fun with.

“Can we drive?” she asks hesitantly in the end.

Flashing an excited grin at the android, he walks around the counter and stops in front of her, his hand moving up to cradle her face while his thumb draws lazy circles into the artificial skin. “We can do whatever you want,” he tells her before leaning in to place a kiss on her forehead. 

The rumors don’t bother Max, even though he has seen several articles with photos of the two of them together, posts on social media where fans are trying to figure out who she is, and even hears his own friends teasing him on stream. Yes, he can be affectionate with her even in public, because deep down he yearns for more than just friendship.

But.

But, but, but.

She’s not human. Yes, she’s the perfect copy of a real woman, even though she can’t eat or drink, so it’s not like he can take her to a restaurant for a date. But it wouldn’t matter, there are many more things they can do. But what if he wants a child? What will happen to her after he dies? There are so many things he needs to consider. 

Right now, it’s for the best to push these thoughts aside. He wants to focus on today, the way she’s sitting next to him in the car, watching the city through the window as if she hasn’t lived here for months now. He wants to start a conversation, but no topic comes to his mind. All he can think about is how beautiful she is, how amazing it is that they programmed her to be this kind. 

Then, as they cross the border to France, he finally takes a deep breath and glances over at her. “You never asked where we’re heading,” he notes.

She finally turns to him with a slightly tilted head. “Where are we going?” 

“It’s a surprise.”

“Then why did you want me to ask?” she wonders, sounding confused.

Without thinking much about it, Max reaches out to take her hand. “I was just surprised that you weren’t curious, that’s all. So… I’ve been meaning to ask you… How are you? Do you like living with me?” His voice is hesitant, and when he looks over at her, he notices the surprise in her expression. 

“Of course I do,” she replies, but he can hear it in her voice that it’s the kind of answer she was probably programmed to give.

Letting out a sigh, he speaks up again. “Okay, now let’s hear your real opinion. If you really like to live with me, what do you like the most about it?” 

Her eyes move to her lap where their hands lie, fingers intertwined. After what seems like an eternity, she finally speaks up. “You don’t treat me like I was an object. And… you’re always nice to me.” The corners of his lips curl into a smile upon hearing this, because that’s what he’s been aiming to do since the beginning. “Also, I like how passionate you can be about things you like.”

A part of him wants to ask more, but a voice in the back of his mind keeps telling him to give her some space. One step at the time, he has to focus on this. She will open up, she will learn how to interact with him in a more natural manner, without making it obvious that there is a power imbalance at the end of the day. 

“Are you ready for next week?” he asks eventually. She nods, but he can tell there’s something she’s hiding. “What is it? I can see something’s bothering you.”

Before answering, she untangles their fingers and pulls her hand away. “It’s just… Won’t it bother you if people start talking about you showing up with an android? I mean, we’re going out together already, sure, but there are more cameras and fans at race weekends,” she says quietly.

Max lets out a sigh. “Your LED isn’t visible and you’re a prototype, there’s no other android out there that looks like you. Kamski won’t tell the truth to anyone,” he assures her. She nods, then her eyes move to the window on her right, clearly avoiding his gaze. “What else?” 

“People think I’m your girlfriend,” she says quietly.

He hums at first as he thinks about what to say. “Is it a bad thing?”

“I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Would you like to be?”

“I wasn’t programmed for that.”

“Are you sure?” She hesitates, so Max takes a deep breath and looks for a good spot to pull over. Once he stops, he turns off the engine and twists his body to look at her. “Listen, I need to know something. Are you only tolerating the way I treat you because that’s what you were designed to do? When I hold your hand, when I kiss your forehead, when I hug you… I need to know if… You know, if they mean anything to you.”

She doesn’t respond. Not with words anyway. But he’s patient, he can wait for her to finally decide what to say, how to answer this seemingly easy question. And then, after several minutes of tense silence, she finally turns to look at him. “I would like to go back to Kamski.”

This sentence makes Max feel like he was hit by a bus. This statement comes out of nowhere, especially after she said she liked living with him. And now she wants to go back to Detroit? Gulping, he thinks about what to say to that. Sure, he could take her back there, but he doesn’t want to leave her behind, he doesn’t want to lose her. “Why? You just told me you like living with me, so I don’t understand what’s going on,” he says. 

As her eyes move down to her hand, she bites on her lower lip. “I just… This… I don’t know, I just need some answers, and–”

“He’s the only one who can give them to you,” he finishes for her, finally understanding where she’s going with this. When she nods, he takes a deep breath and turns to the screen of the car to open the list of his contacts. “Let’s call him now, shall we?” She looks hesitant, her eyes are fixed on the screen where her creator’s contact is open. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

But then she gives him a pleading look. “Please, let me talk to him alone. I don’t want you to hear it, it’s… personal, I think.”

“All right, sure. Does this mean you’re not coming with me to the race?” There’s a guilty look on her face, and he lets out a long sigh of defeat. “You’ll have to fly a lot, if you don’t mind. We’ll go to Australia together, then you can take the jet to Detroit until I need it again, okay?” 

She nods, and he nods as well. These will be the longest few days in his life for sure. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Touch of Sweetness 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Loki Laufeyson

Sister series to mob!Thor

Summary: you make a new friend, but that’s not all. (short reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The cafe is not very busy. You’re relieved. It’s been a strange morning. Jada offered to make you coffee. After last night, her kindness is even more suspicious. It’s not like her to do anything without a motive. 

You sit and mull her sudden change in attitude. There’s only one thing’s that changed that makes any sense. This is about Thor! She knows you went berry picking with him and then you went to his house. She recognised him before you did and even now, you don’t really know too much about what makes him so famous. 

Jada always said she hated having you as her hanger-on. That she couldn’t wait to be rid of you. She’s only jealous because you made a friend better than any of hers. That has to be it. Mystery solved! 

You’re not stupid enough to tell her off to her face. If anything, your sister is spiteful. Maybe, just for now, you’ll accept her little favours. After all, for as mean as she’s been, you deserve a bit of peace. And she’ll deserve the tiny taste of vengeance when you don’t let her use you to get close to Thor. 

You stare out the window, one hand on your mug, a cinnamon latte dolloped in cream, and your other under your chin. It’s not a bad day out. Sunny. It takes you back to the gazebo and the birds. You wonder what Queenie’s doing. Should you message her? You don’t want to smother her. 

“Pardon, is this seat taken?” The silky timbre brings you upright in your chair. 

A smile breaks across your face, “Loki! What are you doing here?” 

His cheek ticks, “may I sit?” 

“Oh, of course,” you pull your mug closer. 

He lowers himself into the seat across from you. He has a paper cup in hand, black coffee darkening the interior. He sniffs and looks down his nose at your drink. 

“What is that monstrosity?” 

“Cinnamon bun latte!” You explain. “It’s delicious.” 

“Full of sugar,” he girds. 

“I don’t like bitter coffee,” you grimace. 

“Then you don’t like coffee,” he rebukes. 

“Not really. I’m aware of my caffeine addiction,” you shrug. “I’m so happy to see you. What are the odds?” 

His green eyes flick dulcetly to your face, “it is not by chance. My brother’s... companion requires company.” 

“Queenie?” You brighten up. He nods and hums. “Oh, I was just thinking of her.” 

“How convenient,” he slithers. 

Silence swells between you. You sip your latte to stave of the tension as he watches. His gaze is intense, it makes you want to melt. You know he’s judging you. 

You touch your nose, “do I have cream?” 

One corner of his mouth curves, “no cream.” 

“Mm, okay,” you pout. 

“You don’t happen to be hiding from your sister? Did she cause you more trouble?” He wonders as his eyes narrow. 

“Jada? No, she’s been... weird.” 

“Hm,” he nods. “Would you prefer to stay and finish or shall we be on our way?” 

“Oh, uh, if you’d rather go now, sure,” you stand and knock the table. The latte tips and splashes your shirt and pants. 

You pick it up but too late. Most of it is gone and you’re soaked. Loki moves so quick, you think he’s running away in humiliation. He simply swipes up a handful of napkins from the counter and returns to you. You thank him as you take a few and dab at your clothing. 

“I can be so clumsy,” you mope. “Sorry.” 

“Are you burned?” He leans over you as he watches you sop up the mess. 

“No, I’m okay. There was so much sugary cream that it wasn’t very hot,” you look up at him with a grin. His brows draw together at your joke. 

“Mm, you are clever when you want to be. Would you like a replacement before we’re off?” 

“No, it’s fine. I think maybe the universe agrees with you. I don’t need it.” You take more napkins and press them to the fabric until you’re mostly dry. 

“I could drive you to your home if you require a change.” 

“That’s a lot of back and forth. I’ll survive a bit of damp clothing.” 

“It will stain, won’t it?” 

You look down at the floral fabric and the matching purple pants. It might but you’ll just be with Queenie. She won’t mind. 

“Just clothes,” you shrug. 

He clucks, “very well, I suppose.” 

He brushes by you and wipes off the table top. The smell of cinnamon stirs with your efforts. A barista approaches with a roll of paper towel. 

“Here,” she smiles, “we’re making you a new drink.” 

“What? You don’t have to,” you take the roll. “Thank you.” 

“Of course. You’re here all the time.” She says, “don’t worry too much, we have a mop. We can get the rest.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks, again,” you babble. 

She goes back to the counter and you turn back to Loki as he watches her goes. He wears a pensive expression. “You make rather a lot of friends wherever you go.” 

“Friends? She’s just being nice,” you say. “Like me. I try to, anyway.” 

He says nothing and bunches up the wet napkin. He opens his hand to take yours and you give them over. He takes them to the bin and dumps them. You gather up your purse and empty cup and follow. You drop it in as they call your name at the counter. 

You go over and take your new drink, “thank you so so much.” 

“Have a good day,” the barista trills. 

You grin and turn to Loki as he takes his cup from the table and meets you at the door. He opens it for you and you thank him. You bop toward your house and he huffs. 

“Wrong way,” he reproaches. 

You stop and turn back to him, “oops. Habit. Oh, I see your car.” You point past him and scurry over. “Did I tell you how much I love that colour? Green is such a... regal colour, don’t you think?” 

“Regal?” He echoes. 

“Oh sure; jade, forest, emerald, even citrine has a certain vibe.” 

“Vibe...” he drawls. 

“Oop, I’m sorry, I’m rambling again. I know you prefer silence.” You touch your mouth apologetically. “I’ll zip it.” You pretend to turn a key and put it in your pocket.  

You peek over at his slightly less agitated expression. Jada is sometimes mean for no reason but she is right that you talk a bit too much. You smile and he turns his attention to the path ahead. 

“I don’t mind conversation,” he says. “So long as it isn’t inane.” 

[yesimwriting]

Stawp!

Louis and bestie reader are so cute

They would be so satc coded and go out for drinks and vacays

Also i think reader would introduce him and call him "my beautiful louis" to other people

But imagine louis getting home and texting her with a smile on his face all cute 🥰

I like the idea of the person who makes vampirism good being her, a platonic relationship, in contrast of a romantic companion.

Also i imagine this convo:

Armand: do you have to go over to her apartment every other day?

Louis: first of, we have our movie night fridays together and you know this!

Armand: its 4 a.m

Louis: duh? I got to get there while the sun is down, besides we need to pick up thai food because she does not cook and she will starve herself before turning on the stove

AND ARMAND WITH HER

I feel like after he knows her, he would be jealous of any relationships/ one night stands she might have (louis knows about them obvi! She calls him all the time 💅🏻)

Im obsessed with this concept 😭

everything about this is so perfect!! i'm so happy you got the vibe! i feel like he just needs someone to pull him out of his (slightly subconscious) angst and something about that happening through a platonic relationship is so endearing to me

they're so satc coded too, just besties drinking and vacationing and having (slightly) delusional conversations <3

also bestie reader calling him "my beautiful louis" to others is everything to me 😭 they for sure love each other so much omg

armand is definitely so messy with this 😭 he's like a cat trying to gaslight their owner into thinking they don't want attention

bc i love this sm here's an actual drabble/fic:

pls be nice writing for new characters for the first few times is so daunting for no reason 😭, also armand is a bit messy here <3

----

Not unlike daylight's earliest hours seeping through shut curtains, the haziness--the easiness--you offer him is persistent.

Louis has grown accustomed to the feeling, to the consistent warmth of your friendship, but every once in awhile the sentimentality of it all digs at him.

"This is..." You trail off, legs crossed beneath you and television remote still loosely held between your fingers. "Complex."

Louis's focus flits between you and the screen you're intently staring at. The two of you hadn't set out to watch a documentary on some nature channel, but this is far from the first time you've gotten distracted by some default program while attempting to put on a movie. "Very."

His sarcasm is enough to break the spell. You turn your head, frowning, "Don't make fun of me."

The documentary cuts to a well lit, sparsely wooded forest. The camera focuses on a deer patiently grazing on the surrounding foliage.

"I’d never," he mumbles, suppressing a smile in an attempt at seeming as serious as he needs to be for the joke to work.

You let out a sound that's too gentle to be a laugh before straightening your shoulders and returning your attention to the television screen. There's something ironically pointed about the way the peaceful background melody fades into something more sinister. Looming Danger.

The deer, alerted by some sixth sense, stiffens, its body stretching to its full, insignificant height. The camera zooms in, focusing on the deer's wide eyes and unmenacing features. "That kind of reminds me of you."

This time, your laugh is full, sharpened by a partial scoff that's as amused as it is offended. "That's the weirdest thing you've ever said to me."

The comment is almost enough to ease him. The camera pans out, allowing the audience to see the other surrounding deer. "Maybe the deer from that one animated movie."

You're quiet for a moment, thinking through the implication of the words before turning your head towards him again. "You mean Bambi?"

He had been much too old to be interested in the film by the time it came out, but the name is vaguely familiar enough. "I think so."

You blink at that, tilting your head slightly. "How do you know Bambi?"

"I don't know Bambi," the argument is a relatively flat one. Louis turns to better face you, resting his arm against the back of your couch. "I've just seen some commercials."

That only seems to confuse you further. You straighten, pulling your legs towards your chest. "Where would you have seen Bambi commercials?"

"They were everywhere when it came out in the 40's."

You don't respond right away, your attention shifting away from Louis and towards your bent legs. As far as references that remind you of his lack of humanity, this is far from a drastic one. The 40’s weren’t long enough ago to be inconceivable to you.

Still, you’re quiet, as if thinking through the potential outcomes of your reaction. You nod once. “Right."

When you look up at him again, there's a hesitant sort of curiosity behind your eyes. It's an expression Louis's more accustomed to than he wants to be, it's the way you look at him when you're reminded of the reality of the differences between the two of you.

You tap your nails against your knee. "Does it feel weird?" The question comes out with a suddenness that doesn't suit you, the stiffness of the words sharp and uncertain. "All that time--carrying it inside your head?"

For a moment, all he can bring himself to do is sit with the question. Your question. It's a simple enough thing to ask, but not a exactly a straightforward thing to answer. Especially not to you, who has yet to experience a significant passage of time even by human standards.

"Well," he starts, "You know about the way that time has impacted aspects of my memory." You watch him patiently, saying nothing to prompt or rush him as he thinks through his response. "It does make things feel different--years spent with someone can feel like moments, and moments with others can feel like eternity."

You nod once, allowing his answer to sink in. "Which one am I?"

He knows his answer before he knows how to put it into words. You’re too familiar for either.

“You’re more like a memory.”

Your eyebrows briefly pinch together at that. You part your lips, but before you can respond the documentary’s music swells.

You turn your head in time to see the coyote lunge at a deer. You sigh, screwing your eyes shut before leaning forward, You press your forehead against his arm. “That’s depressing.”

Louis could have anticipated the reaction, you’re usually more bothered by animals dying in movies than people. Still, though, your ability to find comfort in him of all things will never not perplex him.

Instead of pointing out that you’re the one that chose to watch this, he gently reaches for the remote. “Fine, I’ll put on the movie.”

----

The familiar ringing is so muted, so low, Armand's certain that if it wasn't for his enhanced senses, he wouldn't have been able to hear anything at all. By the time he's turned his head, Louis is already reaching for his coat's pocket.

Armand frowns. If the late hour and limited number of people Louis talks to weren't enough to let Armand know who the message is from, Louis's smile as he unlocks his cell phone would be evidence enough. You--it's always you.

He continues forward, allowing Louis to type out a response without interruption. Once he's certain the message has been sent, Armand begins, "It's her again."

Louis's attention shifts away from the screen. "She's my friend."

"I know," he says, voice flat, "Your best friend."

"Stop it." There's nothing aggressive about Louis's response, but there's an underlying warning pressed into the syllables, the same almost-sharpness that Louis relies on whenever Armand implies a lack of fondness for Louis's latest source of entertainment. "It's not like that."

No, it really isn't. When you first began to weave yourself into Louis's life, Armand had almost convinced himself that this was a blatant betrayal that defied Louis's usual preferences. After about five minutes of assessment, Armand realized that the two of you really are as affectionately platonic as you claim to be.

"No," it's an easy enough concession. Armand continues forward, the coolness of the night's air sharp against his skin. Their walk hasn't exactly been the most exciting night of their companionship, but it has been non-contentious in a needed way after their latest session with Daniel. "You do spend a lot of time with her."

Louis's quiet for a moment, thinking through his response in a way that Armand finds unusual. "You could spend time with us, too."

The sentiment isn't as true as Louis intends it to be. While Armand's been around you regularly enough to consider you familiar, there are a few things that the two of you want to do on your own. Your weekly movie nights, casual drinking at bars, the surprise trip to Milan. And during the evenings in which Armand is there, Louis regards him with a subtle uneasiness that if you've noticed, you know better than to mention.

In your presence, what they are may only be portrayed in the softest of lights. The facets of vampirism must only ever be suggested, alluded to so faintly that they're rendered incapable of tarnishing that darling soul of yours Louis is so determined to preserve.

"And subject the poor, little fawn to an evening with two vampires?"

Armand keeps his gaze focused on what's ahead of them, but he can practically feel the lack of amusement radiating off of Louis. "Come on," he tries again, "She's not like that."

Although he'd love nothing more than to solely resent your existence, Armand does have to give you credit for that. You hadn't so much as missed a single step when Louis revealed the truth to you, never once treating him differently. You also barely flinched when Armand appeared in your home with no warning as a way of hurting Louis during a particularly lively argument. Armand's yet to determine if your bravery is a sign of idiocy or a testament to how certain you are in your connection to Louis.

It's far from rare for Louis to feel the need to defend you, but there's a determination there that seems urging. "She asked you to come over."

Louis's hesitation, though brief, is confirmation enough. He almost stills but seems to think better of it, placing his phone back into his pocket as if that will be enough to make Armand forget that you're the source of this. "She just ended things with the boy she's been seeing."

Hm. Not exactly an interesting update, but intriguing...more intriguing than why you usually call Louis, if nothing else.

"Alright," Armand agrees, "Let's visit your puppy."

----

The apartment building you live in is far from run down. You've slowly but surely transformed yourself into one of those rare artists with a curated following so obsessed with being able to credit themselves as the discoverer of the next big thing that they go out of their way to purchase anything that you've labeled as yours. Existing at the cusp of fame has allowed you to afford a decent apartment in the city, but it's nowhere near as nice as where you could be if you'd accept Louis's offer to get you a place closer to them.

Louis knocks on your door twice. In less than a second, you're clicking the lock out of place. You're beaming as you pull the door open, "Louis."

Armand watches Louis's expression melt into one of total warmth. There's a definiteness to your friendship that Armand might envy if he understood it any better. What's so special, so interesting about you that your presence is always desireable?

Louis extends an arm, offering you the bouquet of flowers he insisted on purchasing before visiting you.

Your smile widens even further at the arrangement. If it wasn't for the information that Louis gave him earlier, Armand would have no reason to think anything remotely upsetting happened to you tonight. "I love peonies. Thank you."

You lift a hand, your pointer finger gently brushing a thin petal as you examine the flowers. After a moment, you straighten, turning your head enough to acknowledge him. "Armand, hi." The greeting is cordial yet far from cold, the way you often are with him.

"Hello," he replies. You step back, pulling your front door open as a way of inviting them in. "I'm sorry about your boyfriend."

You pause at that, parting your lips as you look back at him. Louis speaks before you get the chance to, "I told you to look sad when we got here."

It's a playful chastising at best, but you react as if Louis had really meant it. In some ways, Armand believes he did. "Oh," the sound falls flat. You walk further into your home's entryway, giving them the space needed to enter. "Give me a second, I can do better." You turn slightly, holding onto the flowers a little tighter as you bring your free hand to your chest. "I'm distraught."

Your performance isn't worthy of a standing ovation, but there's a humor there that might have been charming if Armand's disinterest in you was less inherit.

"Nice try," Louis mumbles as he wanders towards your couch. He sits down with a casualness that highlights how used to existing in your space Louis really is. "Armand wasn't up for visiting anyone and I wanted you to at least look sympathetic."

You walk past your living room. Armand watches you for a moment before following, if for no other reason than to feel something resembling Louis's familiarity. He keeps his steps even, making a point of remaining a few paces behind you.

You stop in front of a cupboard. After opening the cabinet, you have to extend your arm so fully to reach a vase Armand's surprised when you manage to grab it without knocking it off its shelf.

"Trust me," you say, exaggerating the syllables as you approach the sink, "I'm very sympathetic." You place the vase beneath the sink before turning on the faucet.

Armand steps forward, setting a palm against the granite that makes up the island attached to your sink. "I'm sure." The words are spoken so lowly they're nearly drowned out by the sound of running water.

"What did he do?" Louis asks from his spot on the couch.

You lift the vase out of the sink's basin, shutting off the faucet as you move to set the glass onto the counter. "Broke up with me because he thought he had a chance with his ex-girlfriend."

"What?" Louis turns fully at that, craning his neck to look at you.

You nod sharply, completely validated by Louis's shock. "I know." You remove the plastic binding your bouquet together. "Men are the worst." You carefully pull a flower away from its bundle before placing it in the vase. The process of arranging the flowers must remind you who brought them to you, because after a second, you amend your statement, "Except you guys. Obviously."

"Obviously," Louis repeats in a way that only feels somewhat sarcastic. "So are you...upset? Angry?"

You pause, giving yourself a moment to really think about your response. "A little of everything, I guess." You pick up two smaller flowers by their long stems before placing them in the vase. "But not crushed." You reach for a filler flower. "I don't know...it's not like I was in love with him."

Louis rests an elbow against the back of your couch, propping his head up as he watches you continue to adjust your flowers. "I'm glad you weren't." You raise your eyebrows at that. "He wasn't the right person."

"You always say that."

"And I haven't been wrong yet."

You give him another look that would be threatening if it wasn't for the underlying fondness there. "Don't start." You don't wait for Louis's reaction before returning your attention to the flowers.

Armand watches you for a moment before allowing himself to take in your apartment. This place is a known entity, but it's not exactly familiar. He's never seen anything beyond the living but he has heard you talk about a room that you've converted into a studio space.

It's not as easy as it should be to imagine a space solely dedicated to your work when touches of it seem to cover your entire apartment. Two canvases too uniquely you to be purchased are hanging behind your couch, there's a ceramic vase on your dining table that reminds him of the way you paint, and then there's the abandoned palette and partially finished canvas still on its easel.

Armand walks forward slowly, approaching the painting as you and Louis begin discussing your least favorite things about the boy that ended things with you.

Even unfinished, the project is strong in its certainty, in its style. Your brush strokes are sharp, unafraid. Next to your well loved palette, there's a small photograph that parallels but doesn't exactly fully match the partially completed house on the canvas.

"That's an idea for a new collection--the repurposing of abandoned things, places..." Your explanation is abrupt in a way that borders on shy. "It's not meant to be as pretentious as it sounds."

There's a self deprecating quality to the disclaimer that doesn't fit you. Perhaps he's stumbled onto an actual insecurity. "Does someone seeing it like this make you uncomfortable?"

"Uh," you start, confused by his own suddenness, "No, not really. As long as you know to look it as a work in progress." You tap your nails against the counter. "I--I have a room down the hall that's full of half-finished stuff if you want to look at those, too."

The offer feels more like an attempt to convince yourself that you're okay with his analysis of your work before it's been polished than anything else. The concept of your uncertainty makes Armand curious enough for him to actively reach for your thoughts.

Armand's concentration shifts onto your mind, and he's immediately thrown by the vaguest implication of resistance. Your mental defense is so feeble it might as well not exist, but the fact that it does...that you're trying to at all is almost endearing enough to convince Armand to leave you be. Almost. "Are you attempting to block me out of your thoughts?"

You blink, the blood beneath your skin rushing its way up your neck at your embarrassment. "Are you trying to read them?" When your counter question doesn't impact him at all, you sheepishly offer an explanation, "Louis taught me."

Of course he'd teach his pet a new trick.

Louis lets out a small laugh at that. "The fact that he felt it at all tells me you're better at it than I'd thought you be."

Armand's gaze returns to your painting. You've managed to find a warmth, a beauty in the forgotten. "The implication of resistance isn't the same as resistance itself."

The criticism stings, but you don't let it impact your expression. You let out an exaggerated sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly to add to your point. "Be nice, I was just broken up with. Over text."

He continues to study the painting, his mind attempting to break the piece down by individual brush strokes. "That doesn't matter to you. Not really." Armand can almost imagine the creation of the house's boarders, of the formation of each individual stone and the heavy ivy covering them. "You're not 'crushed' because you're interesting and he's not, and a part of you knows that."

The sentiment behind the words leaves you desperate to push him away. Blood settles itself beneath your chest. Your feeble mental shield returns, this time determined enough for Armand to feel its desire to push him out.

"You don't know if I'm interesting," the response is too soft, too curious to reflect your unease.

You tap your nails against the counter, the gentle clicks of them hitting the granite echoing throughout the space. Armand refocuses on the canvas. "Louis wouldn't like you if you weren't."

Something about the statement seems to ease you. Armand's reminded of how almost overly genuine your friendship is. "Thanks."

Louis lets out an almost-scoff at that, his eyebrows briefly drawing together in a display of mock offense. "Don't make me sound so shallow."

"It's less about your shallowness and more about my winning personality."

"Uh-huh," Louis mumbles, pressing a synthetic lack of interest into syllables, "Well, as long as its about you."

----

a/n this is lowkey way longer than i expected it to be but i loved this dynamic so much so if you want to see more of them pls let me know <3

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I read Trein's vignette and find it interesting about his background from the RSA, his daughters, and his pedagogy.

I was personally sort of disappointed with Trein's vignettes 😅 It was of course interesting seeing him in his element, but I feel like we barely learned anything new about him. The majority of the vignettes just expanded on things we already knew about him based on previous voice lines or behaviors. For example, part 1 focuses on him exercising to maintain his health with input + advice from Vargas (something which Trein already communicated to us via his Unified Exam voice lines). We also already knew that he was a strict teacher and allows Lucius to police students that are falling asleep in his lecture (shown in part 2 of the vignettes and in the manga), though now I guess we have more specifics on just how strict he can be and how much he values knowledge. He gets really upset with Grim for guessing on a difficult question and seeking praise for it, demanding that Grim not talk back and review the test from front to back, then take a new test and earn full marks on it. And, of course, we knew that he dotes on Lucius and his daughters, which is shown again to us in part 3.

The significant brand-new bits of lore we learned are the names of his daughters (Anna and Dolly Trein), Lucius's thoughts on his late wife and daughters (he loves them), and that Trein can hold a grudge + wished to work for RSA (even going so far as to apply to work there multiple times, even while already teaching at NRC). That last detail was a really interesting way of translating Lady Tremaine’s desire to have one of her daughters marry into royalty into Trein’s character.

I really felt there was a missed opportunity to expand more on Trein's family and how familiar contracts work in Twst. I wanted more about his relationships with his daughters and late wife. What are the conditions to forge a familiar contract? Can you only forge one if the creature is an infant at the time (Trein indicates he has had Lucius since he was a kitten)? How come Trein is the only mage we know of with a familiar in the first place, even at this super prestigious school? Is it not a common thing? What exactly separates a familiar from a regular animal you keep as a companion? I wanted answers to those questions.

I did find the new expressions and poses nice though! The little smirk and the adjusting his gloves combo is a particular favorite. The animation where he picks up Lucius is also very cute.

abildboiabdabofe And the chibis look so silly... I always get thrown off by how small Lucius looks compared to Trein and the other characters. It's alright when Trein is shown already holding Lucius in his arms, but Lucius looks even smaller when he's curled up and low to the ground... I worry someone might step on him by accident 💦

I love how he just... rests on the bristles of the broom in the animation... He's truly with Trein through thick and thin.

afueftiftevoaofeqeywpy POOR LUCIUS THOUGH, LOOK AT HOW PANICKED HE IS WHEN THEY'RE FLYING HIGH 😭😭😭 Definitely peak content.

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 018 ]

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

cw. angst, infidelity, defamation, forced incest (please read the chapter first before you come at me 😭), reader uses a gun, alcohol consumption, emotional manipulation, toxic characters and toxic relationships, iris pov (just for a short part), mentions of murder, car accidents

notes. YOOO can you guys believe we are so close to the ending!! thank you guys so much for being so sweet and supportive to dtd! even though ik most of the readers are away and busy with school now (as am i) i still hope you guys enjoy this update hehe. the next chapter drop should be around the regular dtd tuesdays <3

wc. 13k

series masterlist 

[ EIGHTEEN ] no matter how easy things could be if I did, and no matter how guilty I still feel saying it. I wish I hated you.

In hindsight, the day began like any other day in the glorious kingdom of Inarizaki.

The early morning sun cast its golden glow over the streets that bustled with people, the shops opening with smiles and greetings to the familiar faces of loyal customers. The air was filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread and brewed tea, the distant chime of church bells signalling the start of a new day.

But beneath this serene facade, a storm was threatening to blow – one that would shake the very foundations of the already fragile throne. Iris knew this, too – she could feel it, could extend her hand and have her fingertips brush against her inevitable end.

As the first rays of light filtered through the windows of homes and cafes, Iris watched as the kingdom’s most widely read newspapers hit the stands. The headline had been bold and dramatic, splashed across the front page in large, black letters enough to garner heads turning its way. Who Is The Real Iris Amari? it read, accompanied by a series of photographs that left little to the imagination.

The citizens of Inarizaki began their mind-numbing routine, unaware of the bombshell waiting for them in the morning news. It started slowly, with a few early risers picking up the newspaper and gasping in shock. Unsurprisingly, the scandal spread like wildfire.

The younger ones scrolled through their phones, stopping in their tracks as the news popped up on their screens. The article quickly went viral, shared across social media platforms in the speed of light. It seemed that everyone had something to say about the explosive revelation – Iris’ official portrait decorated on it all.

In a cafe Iris had once loved visiting when she was still a teenager, where morning coffee was usually a time spent with light-hearted chatter and gossip during a faraway era when she still had friends, the atmosphere grew tense and charged. She could’ve been one of them, she thinks, a group of young people huddled together, their voices hushed but urgent. “Did you see the news about Princess Iris?” a woman whispered to her companion, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Her mother involved in a murder? I can’t believe it?”

“Now that they mention it,” mumbled the man next to her, stroking his chin in thought. “It was rather odd that she got married to the Second Prince out of nowhere.”

All across the Kingdom, people gathered in small clusters – their faces a mix of shock, outrage, and disbelief. The photographs shown in the article were damning, capturing moments that painted a grim picture of Princess Iris’ past. One image showed her mother, Kate Amari, in a heated argument with the Late King. Another depicted Iris herself at a lavish party, her expression one of defiance and rebellion.

She’d remembered that party, could recall how the events went crystal clear. She’d been so young, barely nineteen and out of high school, when the impending doom of her fate grew ever near. A few years from now, she would’ve been forced into a marriage with a Prince whose affections she could never win. And what better way to accept her fate than make her mother outraged? So she’d partied, drunk herself to nearly the point of no return, and stumbled back home crying because she’d known. Her fate had been decided from her the moment the Late King slipped from her mother’s grasp, and into the arms of another woman.

She could have never escaped it.

She was nothing but a painful reminder of what her mother could’ve had. I could’ve been his concubine, her mother would cry herself to sleep, screaming those words over and over. Glass would shatter on the walls as she threw another empty bottle of wine over Iris’ head. He said he loved me! He said he would take us home and we would be together as a family!

Such dreams were shattered in the blink of an eye. No matter how much she wailed, and ran after the Late King, it never changed the fact that her mother was the daughter of a lowborn servant, and the Late King had always been majestic from the day he was born.

We were in love, she would tell Iris, brushing her hands through her dark locks – the same shade as the King’s. He’d always loved me, you see. Before the Crown forced him to marry her, you know? The Queen? The one who never smiles? He doesn’t love her, my dear, but he has us. You and me, his precious girls.

Iris thought his mother was delusional. She knew all about it, of course. She’d read her mother’s journals, the love letters the King had penned. She hadn’t been lying that he loved her, once.

The King, merely a Crown Prince at the time, aged sixteen when he first crossed the borders and paid an official visit to the humbler towns of Itachiyama where he met her mother. They’d been young, and foolishly in love. And her mother, illiterate and innocent, had captured the Prince’s heart. He thought her an ideal woman; unstained by ideals, untainted by the law. She knew only how to love him, and for once in his life, he’d felt more of a boy than he was a Prince. He’d made promises he couldn’t keep, promises of running away to the ends of the earth where they could be together.

Like a fool, Iris’ mother held onto his promise. She kept her loyalty even after he’d married the current Queen. She kept chasing after him even after the First Prince – a bastard child – was born. She’d loved him, through and through, until he returned to Itachiyama and made her believe he’d returned for her, only to stumble in the same sheets as Kiyoomi’s mother.

Her mother hadn’t been the same ever since.

She grew obsessed with revenge, throwing herself into a path where redemption couldn’t exist. She’d studied, made a name of herself, and flew to Inarizaki the moment the King had drunkenly put a child into her belly. Not that the King could remember – hence why he never accepted Iris as his own.

But she’d find herself amongst her true family. That was Kate Amari’s promise before the Queen betrayed her, and put her behind bars.

On the busy streets of the capital, pedestrians paused to check their phones, their reactions intense. Some stared in disbelief, while others shook their heads in disgust. A few young people, who had grown up admiring Princess Iris, felt a deep sense of betrayal. “I always thought she was different,” a teenager muttered to his friend. “But this... this is something else.”

The Palace was thrown into chaos as the news spread.

Inside the grand halls, staff members whispered amongst themselves, casting anxious glances towards the royal chambers. Courtiers and advisors rushed to convene emergency meetings, their faces pale and drawn. The Queen, upon hearing the news, simply sat down and pressed her lips into a thin line.

In the markets and town squares, debates broke out as people tried to make sense of the allegations. Some defended Princess Iris, arguing that the writer was anonymous, and the photographs could be doctored. “You can’t believe everything you read,” a shopkeeper insisted, waving his hand dismissively. “This could be a plot to discredit the royal family.”

The others were not so easily convinced. “Look at the evidence,” a customer countered, pointing to the newspaper. “The photographs, the timeline – it all fits. How can you ignore that?”

The debate raged on, with emotions running high on both sides. Some citizens called for Princess Iris to be stripped of her title and brought to justice, while others urged caution and a thorough investigation before jumping to conclusions. It was evident that the Kingdom stood on the brink of a social and political upheaval.

Even as the palace attempted to manage the fallout, the scandal showed no signs of abating.

News channels broadcasted special reports, experts weight in with their opinions, and social media buzzed with speculation and outrage. The Kingdom of Inarizaki had never seen such a scandal, and it seemed that everyone had been swept up in the maelstrom.

In the midst of the chaos, Princess Iris remained secluded within the palace walls, shielded from the public eye as she held a hand to her belly. But the damage was done. The question on everyone’s mind was how the royal family would recover from such a devastating blow – a question not even Iris had the answer to.

She knew one thing, and one thing, only.

She was a Princess, and she’d do anything to keep her place within the Palace walls.

Iris stood by the window of her – your – lavishly decorated room, staring out at the gardens she had once found solace in. The vibrant flowers, the meticulously trimmed hedges, the majestic fountains – all of it seemed like a distant memory now, a world that no longer belonged to her. Instead, a hollow numbness settled deep within her chest, a void where her hopes and dreams once resided.

When Iris first laid eyes on you on the day Rintaro picked you out in a crowded room, she’d thought you were harmless. Dull. Plain. You spoke only what needed to be said, and made no unnecessary movements. Stiff, and boring. She would’ve never thought, or seen it coming, that her damnation would come from the hands of a poor, lovesick girl who’d been lied to.

The heavy footsteps of the guards echoed in the corridor outside, growing louder with each passing second. She knew they were coming for her, to escort her out of the Palace for the last time.

The ornate mirror on the wall showed a reflection Iris could barely recognized – the same as her mother’s eyes had now lost their spark, a face that aged overnight from the weight of the scandal.

The door opened with a creak, and the guards stepped in. She felt their presence more than she saw it, their stern faces and impassive conveying the gravity of her situation. They waited silently, giving her a moment to gather herself, but there was nothing left to gather. Her spirit felt fragmented, her resolve shattered. Now, all she felt was anger hidden underneath a layer of numbness. Don’t look at me like that, she wanted to sneer, I am your Princess. I am the King’s only daughter!

She turned from the window, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she were in a dream. Her heart was a heavy stone in her chest, each beat a reminder of the life she was leaving behind.

The corridor stretched out before her, each step echoing with a finality that was almost suffocating. The opulence of the palace, the tapestries, and gilded frames, all seemed to mock her now. She had once walked these halls with confidence and grace, but now, every step felt like a march towards her end. It was all hers – all could’ve been hers – if you never stepped in and took it all away from her.

As she descended the staircase, the memories of simpler times haunted her. The laughter, the never-ending banquets and stock of wine, the promises of a future that had been her birthright – they all seemed like a cruel illusion now. She could feel the eyes of the palace staff on her, their pity and curiosity cutting through the numbness like a knife. Still, she kept her head high, determined to maintain her dignity in these final moments.

The guards flanked her as she reached the main entrance. The heavy doors were already open, revealing the world beyond the palace walls. The bright sunlight was almost blinding. She paused at the threshold, taking one last look at the place that had been her home, her prison, and her battleground.

With a deep breath, she stepped out into the light. The doors closed behind her with a final, echoing thud, sealing her fate. The guards guided her towards the waiting vehicle, their hands gentle yet firm on her arms. She climbed inside, her movements robotic, her mind still struggling to process the enormity of what was happening.

As the carriage began to move, the palace slowly disappeared from view, replaced by the bustling streets of the city. She saw the faces of the citizens, some curious, some indifferent, and a few sympathetic. But none of it mattered anymore. Her life as Princess Iris was over, and what lay ahead was a life she never deserved.

The numbness returned, a merciful shield against the overwhelming reality. She leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes, letting the gentle sway of the carriage lull her into a state of detached calm. The future was uncertain, but for now, all she could do was endure.

+

Summoned by the royal advisors and members of the council, Iris made her way to the council chamber. As she approached the large, intricately carved doors, two guards pushed them open, revealing a room filled with stern faces and accusatory eyes.

The room was a stark contrast to the rest of the palace. It was dimly lit, with long shadows cast by the flickering candlelight. The heavy wooden table at the center was surrounded by the kingdom’s most powerful and influential figures, all of whom had been convened to address the scandal that had erupted overnight.

“Princess Iris,” one of the senior advisors began, his voice cold and devoid of empathy. "Do you understand the gravity of the situation? The article has not only tarnished your reputation but has also brought disgrace upon the entire royal family."

Iris stood before them, trying to maintain her composure. Her eyes met those of the advisors, seeking any hint of understanding or compassion, but finding none. She nodded, unable to trust her voice to remain steady. She’d already figured this would happen.

“We have no choice,” another advisor interjected. “The people demand accountability, and the council has decided that you must be stripped of your title. This is a necessary step to restore faith in the monarchy.”

The words hit her like a physical blow. Stripped of her title. The enormity of the situation began to sink in, and she felt a wave of humiliation wash over her.

“You can’t,” she croaked out, her throat growing dry. “I-I am married to the Second Prince, and my title is secured. You cannot separate us as divorce is illegal, and if you do so... that would be saying the Prince loses his title, too.”

The advisors shared a look with one another, processing the gravity of her words. “While what you say is indeed true, this is one of those occasions where we must make... necessary adjustments,” the senior advisor said, his glasses pushed up to his nose. “We have already taken measures to fact-check the article and–”

“And?”

The senior advisor glares at her for interrupting. The entire change in attitude was impalpable; now that she’d been scandalized, everyone suddenly lost respect for her. “–And we found that everything written in it was true, just as the photographs are real. We also found records confirming that your mother, Kate Amari, was imprisoned years ago for murder. The King’s murder.”

A bitter, sardonic laugh bubbled from her throat. “I do not deny that, but did anyone ever investigate why she killed him?” A round of gasps echoed through the room at the revelation. “I am willing to bet on my whole life that none of you know how important I am in the royal family, that if it weren’t for me, all of you would be losing your positions and jobs as we speak! It was I who kept all the secrets, the one and only reason you are all able to live your pathetic, worthless lives because none of you know anything! You don’t even know that the Queen you worship reverently is–”

The grand doors of the courtroom creaked open, and the air seemed to grow heavier with each passing second. All eyes turned towards the entrance as the Queen, clad in a dark, regal gown that seemed to absorb the light, stepped into the room. Her presence commanded an immediate, oppressive silence, freezing everyone in their places.

Her gaze, cold and calculating, swept across the assembly, landing on each individual with the weight of her authority. The air was thick with tension as courtiers and officials alike dared not to breathe too loudly, lest they draw her scrutiny. Iris felt her heart seize in her chest, her earlier numbness replaced by a paralyzing fear. The Queen’s entrance had turned the room into a tableau of silent dread, each person awaiting the inevitable judgment that her arrival heralded.

“That is enough,” her cold, heartless voice sweeps across the room. “The final decision has been made. You are no longer allowed to speak another word unless I, the Queen, permits it.”

“Traitor,” Iris sneered, baring her teeth and lunging at the Queen when the guards held her back. “You’re a traitor! This isn’t what we agreed upon!”

The Queen, unfazed, sighs. “Take her away from here.”

Before Iris could protest further, a pair of strong arms escorted her to the grand hall for the public ceremony. The grand hall, usually a place of celebration and state affairs, was now filled with a somber and judgmental crowd. Nobles, courtiers, and even some members of the public had gathered to witness the spectacle. The air was thick with anticipation and whispers.

The whispers grew louder with each step she took. She walked with her head held high, determined not to let them see her crumble.

The queen, stood at the front of the room. She held a scepter in her hand, a symbol of the authority that was about to be wielded against Iris. The ceremony was swift, almost mechanical in its execution.

“Princess Iris,” the queen began, her voice echoing through the hall. “You have brought dishonor to this family and to this kingdom. By the power vested in me, I hereby strip you of your title and all the privileges that come with it.”

With those words, the queen raised the scepter and tapped it on Iris’s shoulder. The symbolic gesture felt like a final, crushing blow. The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, a mix of shock, satisfaction, and pity. Meanwhile, Iris stood, her eyes drawn to the ground as she fought back against the tears that threatened to fall.

She couldn’t believe it. The Queen had broken their agreement, turned back on her word like she did with her Mother. She’d promised her mother to place her within the royal family, then banished her overseas without another word. Now, she betrayed Iris too – arranging her marriage with Kiyoomi, her brother, and took it away from her.

The queen continued, her voice unwavering. “You are no longer Princess Iris of Inarizaki. You are hereby banished from the royal palace, and your marriage to Prince Kiyoomi is annulled.”

The crowd gasped, the severity of the punishment sinking in. Iris raised her head, unable to stop the tear slipping down her cheek. Quickly, she wiped it away. She had to remain strong, if only for the sake of her dignity, because what could she say now? That she was pregnant, and Kiyoomi had to continue with the announcement of ‘the happy news’? She couldn’t – she was stuck in a dead-end corner, and judging by the slight smile playing on the Queen’s lips, she’d already calculated this potential move.

She’d known Iris would never bring up the baby to save herself. Iris would never subject herself to an unwanted pregnancy, keeping up this pretend of sickening act of husband and wife with her brother any longer. If she did, the Crown would pressure her to have another child – one with Kiyoomi this time around, assuming that Rintaro would be disposed of soon enough.

Iris couldn’t go that far.

The Queen, as always, got what she wanted and won.

As the ceremony concluded, Iris turned and walked out of the grand hall. The heavy doors closed behind her with a resounding thud.

Her mind raced with thoughts of what to do next. Where would she go now? Her mother was gone, and she had no allies, made no friends. Maiko could’ve been someone to run to, but even the foolish kid had been too enamoured with you to ever have any loyalty for her. But she refused to let it end like this. She had to clear her mother’s name, to reveal the truth about the queen’s crimes.

She wasn’t going to let it end like this.

With her title stripped and her future uncertain, Iris vowed to fight back. She would uncover the secrets buried deep within the palace walls, expose the queen’s treachery, and reclaim her honor. As she walked away from the palace, the whispers of the crowd still echoing in her ears, Iris walked onwards with newfound resolve. She might have lost her title, but she had not lost her spirit. The battle for her mother’s honor and her own redemption had only just begun.

She would take back what was hers.

The palace was sent into a whirlwind of chaos after Iris’ deposition.

You and Kiyoomi stood in the hallway of Belleview Manor, observing the frenzy. Servants moved like automatons, their faces set in grim determination as they hauled the remnants of Iris’ belongings out of her quarters, tossing her clothes and personal items into hastily arranged piles.

You watched as delicate dresses were carelessly bundled, precious trinkets thrown aside, and keepsakes unceremoniously discarded. Your eyes fell upon a particularly cherished item – a framed photo of a younger Iris and what appeared to be her mother. Their faces were lit into smiles, Iris’ smaller hands held tightly within her mother’s. It struck a chord of guilt within you, and you stepped forward, halting a servant who was about to toss it aside.

“Leave it,” you mouth silently, taking the photograph from the bewildered servant’s hands. Clutching the frame, you held it tightly to your chest, looking up at Kiyoomi with wide eyes.

It’d been less than a week since the news spread of Iris’ abrupt leave. The Queen had stripped her off her title, and the entire Kingdom had been harsh in their glee over it. It was ruthless, needless to say, how easily they turned on Iris – who was once their Princess – the moment the article had been released. She went from being adored to being shunned to the point that even Itachiyama had closed its doors on her.

But wasn’t that what you wanted?

You’d been so desperate to keep Kiyoomi away from her grasp. Now, you’d succeeded. Iris had left, your room was now yours again, and any traces of the brunette finally disappeared.

And yet... why did none of it feel good? You weren’t proud, weren’t happy.

Outside, the commotion was no less intense. The air was thick with whispers and hurried conversations, the scent of scandal permeating every corner of the palace grounds. Meanwhile, Kiyoomi watched it all unfurl with a cold dispassion, as if he was merely an observer.

Your heart ached with a pang of pity as you glanced at him, but there was no time to dwell on it. In the span of forty eight hours, he’d lost his wife, and was pushed to being another pawn again. That part you hadn’t thought through – Kiyoomi may have been freed from Iris, but who was to stop the Queen from marrying him off to another woman? The political crisis between Itachiyama and Inarizaki was temporarily resolved the last time he’d went there, when you went there, but that had been months. And now, with the recent issue of Itachiyama being shamed for having such ‘lowborn people’ like Iris, none of it was getting better.

A small voice in your head urged you to find Iris, to offer some semblance of comfort or understanding. Gripping the photograph tighter, you make your way to your car, wondering where Iris might have gone after experiencing such a public humiliation.

Just as you were about to open the car door, a firm hand grabbed your arm. You turned to see Kiyoomi right behind you, his face etched with a mixture of confusion and concern. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I have to find Iris.”

“No,” his grip tightens with urgency, already slamming the car door shut behind you. “You shouldn’t go anywhere. It’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous? What’s going on?”

“She’s not going to let this end,” he murmurs silently, pulling you into his chest as he looks around warily. He didn’t need to elaborate; the gravity of the moment was clear. The scandal, the disgrace, it was spreading like wildfire. There was no telling where it would end or what further damage might be done.

“Kiyoomi... Did I do the right thing?” you ask him, brow furrowing as your palms grew sweaty. “I-I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I know it would’ve gotten your marriage annulled with her, but... I don’t know what they’re going to do her, Omi. Will she be alright out there?”

Kiyoomi’s lips press into a thin line. “She will be, but I can’t guarantee things will stay the same,” he pauses, as if hesitating, then reaches to comb his hair back. “Listen. Iris is not going to take any of this lightly. There’s no telling what she will do next, but I can guarantee that none of us are safe here.”

You bite your lip, pondering it before you decided, “I still need to go.”

“Where will you go?” Kiyoomi lets go of your hand, not wanting to stop you, but not entirely willing to let you leave either. Instead, his shoulders sagged, his eyes pleading. “Just... Stay here with me. Or at least let me accompany you.”

You shook your head. You’d just freed Kiyoomi from the ties that bound him; if you dragged him with you again, then this would never end. This was something you had to solve for yourself, but if Iris couldn’t be found , then you had to start with him. “I need to find Rintaro. He still has a child with her, Omi. We don’t know how he’s handling the situation right now.”

Kiyoomi’s lips pressed into a thin line. Sighing through his nose, he seemed to have an internal debate before he closes his eyes. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s...” you insisted, “I think you should stay behind.”

Silence stretches between you both. For a moment, it looks like Kiyoomi wanted to say more, but chose not to. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt you – the way he closed off on himself, his walls put up so high you could barely look past it. But what could you do? And Kiyoomi, too, must’ve known this was a losing game. Forcing a smile on his face, he nods.

“Call me if you need anything.”

You smile at him gratefully, photograph still clutched to your chest before opening the car door. Then, you sped out of the driveway and called Rintaro, unsurprised that it went straight to voicemail. You tried asking the twins, even Kita, anyone who might’ve known where your husband was. But alas, none of them had the slightest clue. The last they saw of him was just before Iris was taken away by the guards, hovering behind her with an impassive look on his face.

He’d shortly disappeared after that. None of your texts and calls came through.

Jaw clenched, you turned on the location tracker you’d placed on his phone that time before you left for Itachiyama, mindlessly turning on the radio in case there’d been any reported sightings. You tuned in, letting the music fill the space in the air.

You gripped the steering wheel, your knuckles stiff with tension. You’d been driving for what seemed like hours now, eyes scanning the roads and alleys, searching for any sign of Rintaro. Fatigue weighed heavily on you now that the sun had long set, your eyelids drooping and your body aching from being sat for so long. Still, the tracker on your phone remained stubbornly blank, offering no direction to head in.

Just as you decided to turn back, the car radio crackled to life. The unmistakable voice of Iris filled the vehicle. You immediately went still, your heart pounding in your chest. You quickly pulled over to the side of the road, your breath catching as you listened intently.

Greetings, citizens of Inarizaki. It is I, Iris Amari, your former Princess and representative of Itachiyama. As you all know, I have recently been stripped of my titles now that the history behind my mother’s sudden disappearance has been uncovered.

A short pause.

I confess that I am guilty of manipulating the Crown Prince out of my boredom. The truth is, I was in a loveless marriage with the Second Prince, and I was lonely in the Palace when my husband would leave me to entertain myself for weeks, sometimes months on end. A lonely woman could only endure so much, and the Crown Prince was always there – warm, welcoming, and as lovely as he’d been when we met during our school years. I couldn’t help but seek out his company, even when he’d already married the Yuzuru heiress. After all, I knew my marriage with the Second Prince was hopeless. He would never speak to me, much less look my way – an arrangement I was satisfied with as long as it meant I could remain being a Princess.

You leant back in your seat, gnawing at your lip as you hung on to every word she said.

Now, to answer the question everyone has been dying to know: how did a no-name foreigner like me marry into the Royal Family? The truth is simple. I am the King’s only daughter, and Her Majesty the Queen manipulated my desperate, lovesick, and heartbroken mother to do her bidding. They’d both been victims of the King, their hearts toyed with until they were fueled with anger.

Your grip on the steering wheel loosened. Glancing at Iris’ photograph on the passenger seat, you stared hard at her features – green eyes, loose and dark wavy hair, almost with the same pattern of Kiyoomi’s curls. Looking at her now, Iris had always looked so... familiar. And that thought – or realization – alone, had your mouth drying.

But if they were both the King’s children, and they were married... A gasp fell from your lips.

Was that why Kiyoomi refused to touch her? Why he’d looked at her, repulsed and paling like she was vermin? It hadn’t been because she was, but rather because she was his sister.

The Queen, having had enough of her husband’s affairs and mistreatments, ordered my mother to murder him under the promise she would welcome me into the Palace. My mother did as she was told, concerned only with securing her daughter’s future, but the Queen betrayed us. Shortly after the King died, the Queen banished my mother from Inarizaki and put her behind bars to ensure her silence.

As a last resort to somewhat keep her end of the deal, she then enrolled me in Inarizaki Private Royal Academy to learn about how to run the country as a future Princess. Years later, after I graduated, she arranged my marriage with Prince Kiyoomi, my half-brother.

Now this all begs the question regarding the recent cheating scandal of the Crown Prince: if I’d known all this time that I was the King’s daughter, did I not seduce my own blood and flesh?

You may think so, but the Queen keeps a plethora of lies to keep this Kingdom running – one of her secrets being that she never had a child with the Late King, and Crown Prince Rintaro is nothing but a fraud. He is not of royal flesh and blood. He is nothing but a boy picked up on the streets to become the Queen’s puppet.

When the announcement ended, the music previously playing stuttered before continuing to where it left off. You sat there, stunned in silence with your mind reacing.

The sound of your heartbeat filled your ears, loud enough that it pulsed with the vehicle’s hum. Suddenly, your phone flashed with a notification – the tracker had located Rintaro. Adrenaline surged through you, and you slammed your foot on the gas, the car lurching forward as you sped off.

Now that Rintaro’s secret was out, you needed to find him first before the police did.

You drove through the dimly lit streets, your surroundings growing increasingly desolate. The familiar cityscape gave way to the outskirts, a labyrinth of abandoned warehouses and crumbling buildings. Shadows loomed large, casting eerie shapes that seemed to dance in the periphery of your vision. Your anxiety grew with each passing mile, the unease settling like a heavy weight in your chest.

Gripping the steering wheel tighter, you forced yourself to take a deep breath.

The once smooth road turned rough and pitted, each bump jarring your already frazzled nerves. The neon glow of the city was long behind you, now replaced by the flickering, sporadic streetlights that only deepened the shadows.

After what felt like forever, you’d finally reached your destination – a decrepit building that looked to have been abandoned for years. The windows were boarded up, and graffiti marred its exterior. Despite its appearance, the low thump of music resonated through the walls, a steady, booming pulse that hinted at life within. You parked your car and stepped out, your eyes darting around the unfamiliar surroundings.

The building loomed over you, dark and foreboding. You balled your fists at your sides, trying to steady your frantically racing heart.

As you approached the entrance, you were greeted by a hulking figure. “You got a pass?”

You blinked your eyes up at the bouncer, standing guard. He was imposing, his large, hulking arms crossed over his chest. “Uh,” you licked your dry lips, vaguely realizing a little too late that you’re inappropriately dressed for this event – pearl necklace, diamond earrings, and a silk below-the-knee champagne coloured dress. “N-No, I don’t.”

“Then I’m sorry, Miss, you can’t enter. This is an invite-only party.”

You’re already fiddling with your purse. “How much?” you raised your brows, daring the bouncer to continue smirking when he noticed the seriousness on your face. “Name me your price.” He was quick to mention the numbers, and without sparing him another glance, you shoved a wad of cash – with extra – to his tattooed hands.

The bouncer’s smirk grew wider, satisfied as he pockets the bills. “Welcome to Ecstasy. Enjoy your stay. If you don’t have a mask yet, someone at the counter will give you one. At the right price.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed past him and through the doors. The music grew louder as you neared, its relentless beat matching the pounding of your heart. You squared your shoulders, prepared to face whatever lay behind the doors of this unsettling, hidden nightclub. What the hell was Rintaro doing here?

The deeper you entered the club, the louder the music got. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and something else you couldn’t quite place. The interior was a chaotic blend of darkness and vibrant neon lights, flashing in sync with the pounding bass of the music – loud enough to give you a headache. The colors danced erratically, casting shifting shadows across the grinding bodies across the room.

Everywhere you looked, people were hidden behind masks, their identities obscured in a surreal modern-era masquerade.

The masks ranged from simple to elaborate, animal-themed, Venetian, some grotesque. Yours was a simple bunny-mask, its ears protruding at the sides and the nose wide enough to cover a fraction of your eyes. You understood now why Rintaro chose to be here – the anonymity gave the revelers a sense of freedom, their movements uninhibited and wild. Everyone danced with abandon, bodies pressed close together as they moved as one with the beat. In the corners, couples were locked in passionate embraces, their hands trailing in places it shouldn’t be – completely oblivious to the world around them.

Discomfort washed over you as you navigated through the crowd.

The noise was overwhelming, a constant assault on your senses. Your formal attire, elegant and out of place, drew curious and sometimes hungry stares from the masked partygoers. Your feeble attempt in donning the bunny mask did little to hide your unease.

You pushed through the crowd, determined to find Rintaro.

Men in masks turned to watch you, their gazes lingering too long for comfort. You quickened your pace, ignoring the murmurs and the eyes that followed your every move. The flashing lights made it hard to see clearly, but you couldn’t back out now. You’d already reached this far. There was no way you were going to leave this hellish place without your husband in tow.

Finally, you spotted a tuft of dark, unruly hair.

Rintaro sat slumped at the bar, nursing a drink as his head bobbed in time to the rhythm of the music. He looked weary and lost, a stark contrast to the frenzy around him. Relief washed over you as you made your way beside him, the chaotic energy of the club seemingly fading in the background. You reached out to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder in hopes to draw him out of his stupor and back to you.

When he finally turned to you, you were met with his familiar hazel eyes – ones that bordered more on green than brown. He looked exhausted; dark circles visible even behind his wolf-shaped mask, the whiskers nearly comical as it draped on the sides. You grinned at him, relieved to have found him safe and sound. Throwing your arms around him – or more like attempted to – you found yourself gently shoved back, your lower back connecting with the stool behind you.

“Don’t touch me,” he sneers, his words slurred. “My wife won’t like it if she sees you.”

You frowned at him, rubbing at the sore spot at your back. “Don’t be stupid. We need to go home. Now.”

Rintaro throws his head back in laughter, gesturing to the bartender for another refill. Once his glass was full again, he took slow, deliberate sips – his face impassive and his eyes cold. “The night is too young. Why would I want to leave?” he murmurs more to himself than you, his gaze narrowing at your hunched figure beside him. He stares, hard, making you squirm beneath the mask. But Rintaro simply sniffs, pointing his drink in your direction. “You look awfully familiar.”

“That’s because I’m your wife. Now let’s go.”

“My wife, huh? Now I know you’re lying,” he shakes his head to himself, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he downs his drink in one go. “My wife would never look for me, and she’d never come to a place like this. She’s a little too good for everybody. A little too great for the likes of us. Even for someone like me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re not going to believe this, but I recently just found out that I’m–” he closes the distance between you, close enough that his cologne and the stench of alcohol overwhelms you. Then, he cups his palm around his mouth as if to say a secret, his mouth dangerously close to your ear as his voice drops. “–Adopted. Or kidnapped, if we’re going to be precise. Fucked up, right? But you want to know what’s even more fucked up? It’s that I genuinely thought I was this great, praise-worthy Prince who deserved no one better but my wife. And I–” his chuckles grew louder, the humour in them absent, “–I ruined it. Ruined her life. Because she doesn’t even know that she married some stupid, lowborn gardener’s son.”

You frowned at his words. Crossing your arms against your chest, you spun on your stool and faced him directly, snatching the glass from his hand before he could ask for another refill. This time around, Rintaro doesn’t protest. Just slumps further against the bar’s counter.

“Don’t talk like that. I’m sure she doesn’t think of you any differently.”

“She already does. She can barely stand to be in the same room as me,” he sighs, his head buried in his arms before him. Sleepily, and drunk out of his mind, he gazes up at you under his lashes – the sadness deep and prominent within his eyes. “She could’ve married someone else if I never came into her world, you know? She could’ve married a Lord, or-or a Duke. Hell, she could have been a Princess from another Kingdom. She deserved all that and more. Instead she’s stuck with me and I–” his breaths stuttered, “–I’m no one.”

That was it. You’d had enough of his pity party. Did he really come all the way here just to feel bad about himself? Sliding the glass towards the bartender’s way, you grabbed Rintaro by the arm, heaving at his nearly dead weight. “Rin. Please. Let’s go home.”

“I have no home,” he whines, and it’s only now you notice the tears glistening in his eyes. “I don’t have a wife, I lost my girlfriend who’s pregnant with my child, and I – where would I go? There’s no place for me here.”

“You could go with me.”

“You’re not my wife. I don’t want to go anywhere without her.”

“Rintaro, I am your wife,” you repeat, shoving your left hand right in front of his face. He’s immediately entranced by the sight, and leans into the curve of your palm. “We wear the same rings, see? It’s me.”

The sigh he lets out is dreamy. “Yeah, I’m not sober enough for this. Now I’m seeing her too.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, you lead him back to the bar, and help him sit down without falling on his bottom. “Okay, how about this? I get you a few more drinks, and then I’ll take you back to your wife, alright? I heard the Princess was looking for you.”

Rintaro’s sniffles grow louder as he avoids your gaze. “Why would she? She’s happier now that she’s with Kiyoomi. He’s the better man, anyway, better than me in all aspects.”

The memory of Kiyoomi’s lips flashed through your mind. Faintly, you wondered if this was considered hurting Kiyoomi’s feelings – running after your husband, and tending to him when he was not in his right mind. Just the thought of Kiyoomi patiently waiting for you back at Belleview Manor broke your heart. Or maybe he paced back and forth, anxiously opening his phone every minute to check if you’d updated again – you hadn’t.

But you would return, that you knew. The past few days with him – no, everything had made your decision clear. Regardless of whatever happened next… if Rintaro would be taken away by the police, or if the Queen disposed of him first, you’d already made your mind.

You were going to choose Kiyoomi.

But tonight… tonight, Rintaro needed you. Cupping his face in your hands, you levelled his gaze with yours, putting on your warmest smile – just like how you always did whenever Rintaro ran to you, worried and burdened with his day’s work. Even if he couldn’t truly recognize you, at least your touch would – hopefully – be familiar enough. “She’s worried for you, and she sent me here to take you home. She said she wants to talk.”

“She still wants to talk to me?”

Your heart ached. You’d never heard Rintaro sound this… helpless before, and at the same time hopeful. “Of course, Rin. Always.”

“Fine,” he relents, “but you’re paying for my drinks.”

You discreetly signal to the bartender, sliding over a generous amount of cash to cover all the drinks he’d ‘ordered.’ Thankfully, he understands your silent plea, nodding and begins to serve him water instead. Rintaro, too lost in his own world, didn’t seem to notice the change as he continued to down glass after glass.

Once he had reached his limit, you gently took his arm, guiding him away from the bar and through the club. To say the journey back to your car was arduous was an understatement. Rintaro kept leaning heavily on you, his weight almost too much for you to bear. His stumbling steps made your own balance precarious, especially in your delicate kitten heels. You gritted your teeth, determined to keep you both upright as you navigated the crowded, uneven terrain outside the club.

The rocky pavement outside made the task a lot more challenging than it should be. Each step was a battle, your husband’s larger frame swaying with each faltering step. You glanced around, spotting one of his cars parked far away, but you ignored it and focused on bringing him to yours instead. You’d just have to take care of the traces he left later.

With great effort – and a lot of sweat – you finally managed to get him to your car. You opened the back door, easing him inside. Rintaro whined and resisted, but you persisted, swatting his hands away to get him settled.

You managed to manoeuvre him into the backseat, checking twice to ensure he was comfortable enough before closing the door. Before you could, Rintaro suddenly reached out to you, his fingers tugging at your sleeves. “Wait,” he pleads, his eyes huge and vulnerable.

“What?”

“Need to... need to look good,” he rambled on, stretching his long legs at the backseat and tugging at his own shirt. The material is already wrinkled beyond belief, the top buttons undone. He keeps fidgeting with it, grabbing your hands to help him fix it. Stunned, your hands hover awkwardly over his chest – unsure if buttoning it up for him would be enough to satisfy him. “Do I look good? Don’t wanna – don’t wanna look drunk. She’ll get mad. Don’t want my wife seeing me like this.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words. Sighing, you reached over and closed the top buttons, patting his chest down as if to say ‘there you go.’ “You look fine. Stop grumbling.”

Convinced enough, Rintaro stops fidgeting. You were about to close the car door once more when he suddenly pulled you next to him. You squealed, barely catching your balance as you fell beside him. In one, swift movement, Rintaro had laid down and rested his head on your lap, his long legs awkwardly curled beneath him. There, he sighs, his large hands fisting your dress as you sit still – unable to move.

 “Just a few more hours, please? I want to sleep.”

You agree, finding it difficult to say no when Rintaro was so… clingy like this. It wasn’t like you could return to the Palace, anyway. Rintaro would most likely be a target of the Police, and the entire government now that everyone knows he was a fraud. He didn’t need to go back to that. You’d rather keep him here – in your lap, safe and sleepy and warm. Unable to help it, you run your hands through his hair, carding your fingers through the strands and raking your nails against his scalp. It causes him to purr like a cat, the sound entertaining before he buries himself closer to your stomach.

 “...Nice.”

“What?”

“Said you smell nice. Smell like my wife.”

The morning sunlight filtered through the car windows, its warmth gently jostling you awake. You blinked blearily, momentarily disoriented as you realized you’d fallen asleep. As you tried to move, you noticed the weight on your lap.

Rintaro was asleep there, his face relaxed and peaceful. The harsh lines of stress and pain that usually marked his features were smoothed away as he slumbers, making him appear younger, almost innocent.

You stared at him for a little longer, captivated by the rare serenity in his expression. Your fingers began to move on their own accord, gently caressing his cheek. His skin was warm under your touch, and you marvelled at how different he looked now. In sleep, he seemed free from the burdens that weighed so heavily on him during his waking hours. But now? Your heart softened as you traced the line of his jaw, wishing you could freeze this moment in time – preserve this fleeting glimpse of the man you had once fallen madly in love with.

You hesitated in waking him up, choosing instead to let him rest a little longer.

Carefully, you reached for your purse, digging through it to find your phone. The screen lit up with several missed calls and a flurry of texts from your parents, their messages frantic and pleading for you to answer and tell them where you were. Amongst the many notifications, messages from Kiyoomi caught your eye. His last message read, “please… please tell me you’re safe.”

Your heart ached at his worry, but another message drew your attention. It was from Kuroo, his message short yet ominous: “Princess, I didn’t write this, but I think you should take a look.”

With shaky hands, you clicked on the link. As the article loaded, your anxiety surged – a cold dread settling in the pit of your stomach. You glanced down at Rintaro, still peacefully asleep, oblivious to the turmoil that awaited you both.

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐄𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐤𝐢: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐲, 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐚’𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝

In a dramatic turn of events that has left the kingdom of Inarizaki reeling, the Queen has been seized by government officials following the revelation of her involvement in heinous crimes. The charges against Her Majesty are severe and include conspiracy to commit murder, kidnapping, and fraud. This unprecedented upheaval marks a dark chapter in Inarizaki's royal history. The Queen stands accused of orchestrating the murder of her own husband, the late King, in a desperate bid to retain power. This shocking revelation came to light after a thorough investigation uncovered irrefutable evidence of her culpability. Additionally, it has been revealed that the Queen kidnapped an innocent baby, presenting him as the Crown Prince to solidify her control over the throne. This child, now known as Suna Rintaro, has been living under the false pretense of royal blood. The official charges against the Queen include: Conspiracy to Commit Murder, Kidnapping, Fraud, and High Treason. Government officials have acted swiftly, seizing Her Majesty and beginning the legal proceedings that will determine her fate. The palace is in turmoil as the full extent of her crimes comes to light. As the kingdom grapples with the Queen's treachery, another scandal has emerged, further destabilizing the royal family. Hours after former Princess Iris publicly revealed her true lineage, incriminating photos of Princess Suna, wife of Suna Rintaro, have surfaced. These photos, taken within the privacy of Belleview Manor, show Prince Kiyoomi and the Crown Prince's wife in a compromising and passionate embrace, confirming longstanding rumors of a cross-marriage affair. The scandal does not end there. Additional evidence has surfaced showing Princess Suna meeting with Kuroo Tetsuro, the notorious journalist responsible for exposing Iris and Rintaro’s affair. In these meetings, Princess Suna is seen paying Kuroo substantial sums of money, effectively funding his comfortable life abroad. It is now evident that Princess Suna orchestrated the recent articles that have shaken the kingdom, making her a clear threat and an enemy of the Crown. The public and government officials are now united in their stance: Princess Suna and Suna Rintaro must be stripped of their titles and exiled from Inarizaki. Their actions have sown discord and threatened the stability of the kingdom, and such betrayal cannot be tolerated. As Inarizaki faces this turbulent time, the hope for a restored and honest royal lineage is strong. The kingdom looks to the future, determined to heal and rebuild in the wake of these revelations. This story is still developing, and we will continue to provide updates as more information becomes available.

Panic surged through you as the article’s revelation settled in.

Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps, each one more frantic than the last. You felt your chest tighten,, your heart pounding so hard as if it would burst. Desperation clawed at you, and you knew you had to get out of the car.

As gently as you could, you pushed Rintaro’s head off your lap, careful not to disrupt his sleep. He stirred slightly, but otherwise remained unconscious. You opened the door and stumbled out onto the pavement, your legs barely supporting you as you fell to your knees. The cold, hard ground bit into your skin, but the sensation was distant – the pain faint compared to the panic that was now beginning to consume you.

Your breaths were coming in ragged, uneven bursts now, your vision blurring with tears.

You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady yourself as the world spun around you. You knew, without a doubt, that your own Kingdom had already turned against you.

With trembling fingers, you fumbled for your phone. You needed to hear his voice – the one person who could ground you, who could make you feel safe in the midst of all this mess. You found his contact and dialled, holding the phone to your ear with a grip so tight your knuckles turned white. Finally, the call connected, and you breathed out, letting the faint sound of Kiyoomi fumbling in the background like a lifeline.

“Kiyoomi?”

“Thank God you picked up. You weren’t answering any of my calls.”

You closed your eyes, focusing on each word, each comforting tone as you anchored yourself in the present. The world around you began to slow, your breathing gradually evening out. You took a deep, shaky breath, drawing strength from Kiyoomi’s presence, even if it was just through the phone.

“I-I don’t know what to do, Kiyoomi. What’s going on?”

Kiyoomi sighed from the other line. “It’s just as the news said. The Queen is being held by the government to answer for her crimes and you... you’re no longer allowed to return to the Palace. You’ve been deposed.”

“But that’s – that can’t happen. There should be a procedure, a legal procedure before they can strip me off my title!”

“I know, but with everything going on in the country right now, the officials have all decided to skip the formalities and proceed with making any unjust royal family member out of the Palace as soon as possible. You included,” more shuffling rings through the phone, and you hear a car door slamming shut. “But don’t worry, I’m heading out of the Palace right now. Tell me where you are. I’ll come find you.”

Nodding even if Kiyoomi couldn’t see it, you move to send him your location when your phone was suddenly ripped out from your hand. You watched, mouth agape, as Rintaro throws it to the ground and crushes it with the weight of his foot. You scrambled to stand up, fire raging in your veins as you looked at him – Rintaro was now awake, his hair still messed up from sleep, but his eyes were big and bright, like he’d been riding on a high.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I should be asking you that,” Rintaro glared at you, all the previous softness disappearing from his face. “Are you out of your mind? The news said we’re exiled. And you’re just giving our location to Kiyoomi like that?”

“That’s Kiyoomi! I trust him!”

“He’s a Prince, a member of the Royal Family – the same family you’re no longer a part of. I don’t care if you think you can trust him, there’s nothing he can do for you.”

“Oh, but you can do something about it?”

Rin flinched like he’d been slapped. Still, he kept his composure, his hands planted on his hips as he sighed and looked around you. You were nearly in the middle of nowhere – in the outskirts of the city, far from the inquisitive gaze of the Palace. It was almost hard to believe how so much had happened in such a short span of time, but Kiyoomi was right. Iris wouldn’t let it end there. If she was going to fall, she was going to take everyone down with her.

“I can’t help you, but you heard what they said. I’m exiled – I’m leaving this damned country.”

Your husband slammed the car door shut, and began to walk towards his car. “Rin,” you called out to him, taking two steps at a time to match his pace. “Rin, would you please just stop? Let’s talk!”

“There’s nothing to talk about!”

You stopped in your tracks, surprised when he’d turned your away. Rintaro’s face was flushed red, the vein on his neck prominent. “Why are you so angry? Oh, is it because your plans have been ruined and you can’t become King anymore, is that it? Because Iris is gone now, and you can’t have her?”

“Seriously? After all this time, you still can’t get over that?”

The laugh you let out is incredulous. “How can I? You kicked me out of our room a few days ago because you said you wanted to take care of her!”

Rintaro’s face hardens. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Well, thank you so much for telling me, because that totally changes everything,” you throw your hands up in the air, stomping to where he stood just to sneer at his face. “You really expect me to believe you stopped caring about her? The moment your girlfriend was kicked out of the Palace, what did you do? Oh, right. You went to some dingy, ‘exclusive’ anonymous nightclub and got drunk out of your mind. I think its crystal clear you needed a distraction from the pain of losing her.”

Rintaro scoffed, baring his teeth as he takes on your challenge and comes closer, your noses brushing. “What pain? I couldn’t care less that she’s gone. She never loved me anyway.”

“Then why drink yourself half to death last night? You could’ve been in real danger if I didn’t come looking for you.”

“You shouldn’t have, then.”

“A thank you would suffice.”

Rintaro’s face hardens. He takes more steps, forcing you to walk backwards until you were back to where you started – your back hitting the edge of your car. He looms over you, his eyes shining with something you couldn’t decipher. “Why did you look for me, huh? My mistress is gone. She’s out of your hair, and you could’ve had everything you wanted. Why else bother looking for me when all I did was hurt you?”

He practically forces the confession out of you. “Because I was worried about you!”

In an instant, Rintaro’s heat disappears. He flings himself backward like you’d burned him, frowning as he stares you incredulously. Then, he lets out a laugh that sounded more like a pained choke. “You are many things, but I never thought you could be a liar.”

“Liar? What are you talking about?”

He meets your gaze, his eyes cold and daring. “You don’t care about me.”

“Yes, I do!”

“No, you don’t! You know the truth, Y/N. I’m not a Prince – never have been, and never will be. You couldn’t possibly care for a fraud. You know it, too. I’m a nobody, and you were always better than me.”

Rintaro’s words hung in the air, each one landing with a weight that nearly suffocated you. Was that how he thought of you the whole time? That you’d... hated him? Thought of him differently because he wasn’t the King’s son? The very notion left you appalled. The ground beneath you felt like it shifted, your heart clenching painfully at the broken expression he wore. Shame, guilt – it all swam in the dark pools of his eyes, mingling with sorrow as you stared at him.

How could he think that, after everything?

His voice carried defeat, almost as if he wanted you to hate him, as if he believed it would make things easier.

The realization itself twisted something deep inside you. You didn’t hate him – not even close. Maybe you hated what he did, the lies that he’d kept and the facade he’d put on, pretending that he’d loved you when he didn’t. But him not being the King’s son? What did that change? Stood before you was still Rintaro, not Suna, the man you’d adored and cursed from the moon and the back. The thought that he’d been carrying this belief, suffering under it, cut you more deeply than any betrayal. Somehow, this hurt more than finding out he had another.

The fact that this whole time, Rintaro truly believed you looked down on him for not being a Prince. How could he have been so wrong?

The breath was knocked out of you, your shoulders deflating as every muscle in your body softened. “You may not be a Prince, but you’re still my husband. I still care.”

You watched the change in his expression as the words left your lips.

His eyes widened in shock, the disbelief evident against the relief that slowly unfurled across his face. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest, his breath catching in his throat. But beneath that relief, confusion lingered, the doubts overshadowing your confession. It was as if he was trying to convince himself that you were wrong, that you should hate him, that your kindness was a mistake.

You could see it all – how Rintaro desperately wanted to believe you, yet he still clung to the pain of his insecurities like it was all he knew.

“If you care so much,” his voice broke as he spoke, “Then why did you kiss Kiyoomi?”

His question struck you like a blow to the chest. The words echoed in your mind, rendering you frozen in place. How could you answer that? How could you justify what you’d done? You could say you didn’t mean it, that you’d regretted it, but that would be a lie. You’d wanted to kiss Kiyoomi. It was a long overdue kiss, and until now, you still wanted to run back into his arms and have him tell you everything would be okay.

And that must show in your face – your blatant infatuation with the Second Prince. Rintaro’s face was a mixture of hurt and confusion as his gaze landed on your lips, probably picturing the way you’d kissed someone else. It made you feel small, like a child caught with their hand deep in a cookie jar. Your mind race, searching for an explanation, a way to make him understand, but all you could feel was the crushing sense of betrayal you’d inflicted on him – on both of you.

The truth was too messy, one that you couldn’t explain yourself. You cared for Rintaro, would do anything to protect him and save him from the mess he’d been tangled in. But you also loved Kiyoomi, loved tangling your hands in his curls, and laying your head on his chest to hear his heartbeat. You would fight a far for your husband, but when that war was over?

You would run straight home to Kiyoomi.

Still, you wanted to reach out. To say something, anything, that would take away the pain in his eyes, but the words were lodged deep in your throat. All you could do was stare at him, realizing too late you had hurt him in a way that might never fully feal.

“So you love him,” he concluded, and when you didn’t refuse, Rintaro nodded to himself – letting the words sink in. One of his hands were planted on his hips, the other fisted on his lip with his brows furrowed. “Was it... was it after I kicked you off to Belleview Manor? Or has it... have you liked him for longer than that?”

Since Itachiyama, you wanted to say, almost apologetically, since the day you kept choosing her over me.

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, a distant rumble interrupted the silence, growing louder and more distinct with each passing second. You barely had time to process it before Rintaro moved, his hand suddenly gripping your arm with a firm urgency.

Rintaro pulled you down, hiding you both behind the car. You followed his lead, heart pounding in your chest as you pressed your face against his back, the creases of his shirt bundled in your palms. Crouched low, the cold pavement pressing against your knees, you watched as he cautiously peeked over the car’s hood, his eyes narrowing in concentration. The sound of engines grew louder, more ominous – like the sound of your end nearing. You dared to peek from above Rintaro’s shoulder until you could make out the distinct patterns of royal emblems on some of the vehicles, followed closely by the flashing lights of police cars.

Fear gripped at you. You could feel your heart pulsing all the way up to your tongue, your breaths coming faster as you glanced at your husband. Rintaro’s expression mirrored your panic, eyes wide and intense.

The vehicles were closing in, fast and steady, like predators hunting their prey. You both knew that your time was running out, that you were no longer Prince and Princess. Exiled. Dethroned. Hunted like the lowly criminals you both were.

Rintaro wasted no time. He yanked you up as gently as he could by your wrist, guiding you into the passenger’s seat before he slammed the door close, and hopped onto the driver’s side. His movements are frantic as he started up the car, letting the engine hum fill the vehicle. “Wear your seatbelt.”

“But Rin, you were just drunk last night–”

The engine roared to life as Rintaro slammed his foot onto the gas pedal. “I’m fine now, and I drive faster than you. You know that. Wear your seatbelt.”

The car lurched forward, tires screeching against the pavement. You felt your body press back into the seat as your heart pounded in time with the racing vehicle. The world outside blurred into a streak of colours as you shot down the road, the cool morning air rushing in through the partially open windows.

You could hear the shriek of sirens behind you, the vehicles in pursuit closing in fast.

Adrenaline surged through your veins, sharp and intoxicating, as your mind raced to keep up with the unfolding chaos. This was real. This was happening. You were no longer just royals entangled in a web of lies and deceit – you were fugitives now, running from a government that once hailed you as symbols of hope and power.

Rintaro’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he weaved through the narrow streets with a precision born of desperation. Each sharp turn sent her stomach lurching, the tires skidding dangerously close to the edges of the road. You cried out his name, and Rintaro hissed as he swerved back to safety. You could see the cityscape flashing by in jagged, disorienting bursts – the familiar landmarks rendered alien the further you flew away.

The vehicles behind you were relentless, engines howling as they sped after you with unyielding force. The sirens were deafening, mocking.

You glanced over at Rintaro, seeing the intense focus etched into his features, the slight tremor in his jaw as he pushed the car harder, faster, willing it to escape the grip of your pursuers.

The realization hit you like a physical blow – you were criminals now. Your life of luxury, of duty, and privilege, it was all over. Everything you had known, everything you had believed in, was crumbling away behind you, left in the dust of your panicked escape. There was no going back now, no return to the life you once had. You would have to leave everything behind – the Palace, the titles, your parents, Kiyoomi.

The car swerved violently as Rintaro took a sharp corner, the tires screeching as you fought for traction. The chase had spilled deeper into the outskirts of the city, where the streets were narrower, the buildings older and more decrepit. The vibrant pulse of the city was fading, giving way to a desolate stretch of road that seemed to go on forever, before it disappeared into the horizon like a thin thread of hope.

Beside you, Rintaro’s face was set in grim desperation, his eyes locked on the road ahead as the car surged forward, fuelled by the desperate need to escape. You could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken understanding between you that this was your only chance.

And with that, you accepted your fate.

This was the path you had chosen – no, the path that been forced upon you. The chase continued, the world outside becoming a blur of speed and danger. You braced yourself for whatever lay ahead, knowing that nothing would ever be the same again.

“They’re getting close,” Rintaro said through gritted teeth. One glance at the rear view mirror confirmed your worst fears; they were closing in on you, and that meant the end was nearing. You knew without a doubt that as soon as the government laid their hands on you, everything was over. Rintaro would be exiled, or worse, executed for infiltrating the sacred walls of the Palace – even if it hadn’t been his fault. And you would lose everything, everyone, that you ever cared about. You couldn’t let that happen. “Fuck! I need something to get them off my tail!”

You moved without thinking.

Reaching for the gun secretly stashed in the glove compartment, you quickly rolled the windows down, the upper half of your body carefully sliding out as you unlatched the seatbelt. “Hey!” Rintaro shouted, “What are you doing? Get back! It’s not safe!”

“I’m still the General’s daughter. They won’t shoot,” eyes narrowed, you aimed at the nearest police car who’d been hot on your heels. There was only a few inches left before they could bump into you. “But I will.”

There was no time for hesitation, no room for doubt.

The rush of the wind whipped through the car, pulling at your skin and stinging your eyes. Your finger hovered over the trigger, the world narrowing down to the police car’s tire, spinning so fast it seemed almost like a blur.

You fired.

The crack of the gunshot echoed in your years, the sound so loud it was deafening. You watched as the bullet hit its mark, the tire exploding in a burst of rubber and metal. The police car veered wildly, the driver losing control as the vehicle swerved violently across the road. Then, with a sickening lurch, it tumbled over, metal screeching against asphalt as it rolled, flipping end over end before it crashed into the guardrail. The screech of tires and the crash of metal filled the air as the cars behind it desperately slammed on their brakes, unable to avoid the wreckage. One by one, they collided, a chaotic pileup of twisted metal and broken glass until the entire road was blocked.

You slid back into your seat, your breathing ragged, your chest painfully tight.

Your hands were still shaking, the gun trembling in your grasp. Cold sweat dotted your skin, the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you stared at wreckage left behind you. The pursuing cars had been held back, unable to continue the chase.

The road was clear.

Rintaro pressed down harder on the gas, sending the car forward with renewed speed. The roar of the engine filled the car, its sound fierce and almost primal. You could feel the velocity pulling you back into your seat, your body slamming onto the leather.

As the wreckage disappeared from view, the chaotic noise behind you fading into the distance, you let out a shaky breath. You glanced down at the gun in your hands, the metal still cool against your skin despite the heat of the moment. It had been necessary, but the reality of what you had done settling heavily. You exhaled, trying to calm the trembling in your hands.

Rintaro eyed you from his seat, his jaw clenched before he glanced back at the road. “Do you know what you just did?” You nodded, tears now brimming at your lash line. “You’ve just officially declared that we’re at war with the country. They’re never going to let us go.”

“I know,” you were crying now – the tears unstoppable as you pressed your palms against your eyes. “I know.”

Rintaro was quiet for a moment. So quiet you wondered if he was still there, and he was. The tension never left his face, and he never once slowed down in his speed. But he was calmer, in some ways, his face set into a determined frown. “We can’t go back. We can’t say goodbye to anyone anymore.”

You couldn’t say goodbye to Kiyoomi.

“Where are we going, Rin?”

“Far,” was all he says, and the road that stretched before you suddenly seemed endless. “Far, far away from here where they can’t hurt you.”

“You mean us.”

“Of course,” he stole a quick glance at you, surprising you when you saw how his face had softened. Almost as if he’d already accepted that the life he’d lived was never his, and he had nothing but the future ahead of himself. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise. But if you... if you tell me to turn back, I will. I’ll find a way to get you back to Kiyoomi–”

“No,” you interjected, and Rintaro’s eyes widened. “I... I’m staying with you.”

Rintaro’s eyes scanned your face, looking for the answers. “Are you absolutely certain? You don’t have to, you know. This country can still forgive you, they can love you still–”

“I’m staying with you.”

“Okay,” he nodded, his face unreadable under the faint morning light. “Okay. It’s you and me.”

The decision to leave wasn’t easy.

It clawed at you, gnawed at the very fabric of your being, but you knew – deep down, in the place where love was both cruel and kind – that you couldn’t stay. You wanted to fight, to clear your name and prove to the world that you were innocent, to stand in front of the kingdom with your head held high. You wanted to see your parents again, feel their arms around you, hear their voices assure you that everything would be okay.

But even as these thoughts plagued your mind, they were outweighed by something stronger, something inescapable.

You thought of him – Kiyoomi, the Prince you ended up falling for. The one who’d stolen your heart, not with grand gestures, but with quiet moments, gentle touches, and promises whispered in the dark. You still remembered the warmth of being in his arms, the way he looked at you with eyes that saw through your soul, the comfort you found in his presence, and the future you’d dared imagined together. You had given him his heart when it felt all was too late, and he had given you his the moment you laid your eyes on his. Each one of you were willing to sacrifice so much for the other – it just never occurred to you that you would sacrifice Kiyoomi now.

And it hurt.

It hurt more than you could have ever imagined. The thought of leaving Kiyoomi behind, of crushing the trust he’d given you, of severing the bond you had formed – was a pain so deep it nearly made you want to ask Rintaro to turn back. At least let me say goodbye. Let me look at him one last time. You wanted to stay with him, to choose him, to finally build the life with Kiyoomi that he’d promised, but you couldn’t. He didn’t even have the littlest idea that that had been your last conversation, the last time you’d hear each other’s voices.

Because there was another man – Rintaro, your husband. The one who, despite everything, still held a huge fraction of your heart.

He was the one who needed you now, and he didn’t have anyone else. You’d seen the despair in his eyes, the loneliness that consumed him, the way his eyes didn’t quite match what he said as it held the silent please for you to not abandon him, to not cast him aside like everyone had. You knew him well enough to understand that if you left, he would disappear – not just from the world, but from life itself.

Rintaro would slip away, fade into the shadows, and you would never find him again. You couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t lose him like that.

So you chose him.

You chose to run away with him, to leave behind everything you’d known, everyone you’d loved. It was a choice born out of duty, of loyalty, and of the twisted love that still tied you to him. It was the right choice, not that it made it any easier. The ache in your heart would remain and scar you forever, haunted by the knowledge you would never see Kiyoomi again, never hold him, never tell him how much he’d meant to you.

It was a loss you would carry with you for the rest of your life.

But you couldn’t do it any other way, couldn’t have gone a different path and not think of Rintaro still. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you’d left him alone, if you let him slip away into the darkness that beckoned him. Even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness, even if it meant leaving behind the one person who’d taught you to love again. You had to choose Rintaro, even if it came with the price of letting everything else go.

So you did.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and made the choice you knew would tear you apart. You ran away. And as the world blurred around you, as you fled into the unknown, hand-in-hand with your husband, you couldn’t stop thinking of the Prince you’d left behind – the man who would always hold your heart in his hands, even if you could never return to him.

“You and me, Rin.”

[romanteacism]

A Butterfly and A Dragon’s Flight Chapter Three

Chapter Summary: New members and revelations come to the court, making the prince quite curious. Word Count: 5, 212 Warnings: Jealous Aemond, Bullying, Confusion

It had officially been half a moon since the Tyrells had arrived in the capitol, and all four of them had established a new routine as they resided in the walls of the Red Keep. Elinora had finally returned to spending most of her time in the gardens, often spending the morning with Princess Helaena until she was whisked off to her royal duties, leaving the girl alone. It did not bother her; she was used to being alone with only her butterflies as her companions. Elinora also had not encountered Prince Aemond after their tense conversation in the library, and she was relieved for it. She was starting to fear him if she were being honest. She was not certain how someone could be so cold and callous as he was, which is why his absence made her feel somewhat at ease. 

Aemond, on the other hand, had avoided the gardens as best he could. He finally regained his sensibilities as he realized how ridiculous and foolish he had been for following the girl, who he now remembered was an intruder. His sympathies toward her dissolving. He was being irrational as he avenged Lady Elinora against those court women, only making her more comfortable as he had scared away those who threatened her. If anything, he should have let the ladies continue on with their torment, and he would have been absolved of Lady Elinora altogether, no longer having to worry about the possible threat she posed. Though as he thought of letting her be attacked in the den of vipers, he felt a hint of guilt at his thinking.

Aemond went on his way to his usual routine, going to the tiltyard at first light. However, as he walked the halls of his home, he had the urge to venture into the gardens. Aemond pursed his lips at his urges, his jaw ticking as he willed himself to forgo his ridiculous wants. As the prince stepped foot in the tiltyard, he frowned as he saw who was present. “Brother?” He questioned as he saw the short silver locks of his younger brother, Daeron. “Aemond!” The youngest prince exclaimed, going on to greet his brother with a hug. Aemond accepted it stiffly, as he was never accustomed to being touched. 

“What are you doing here?” Aemond asked, seeing that his uncle, Ser Gwayne, accompanied his brother. “It’s Mother’s Name Day by the week’s end; I thought we should come and surprise her.” The youngest prince smiled and finally let go of his brother, who only stood solidly before him, Prince Aemond turning to his side to give his uncle a knowing nod. “Good to see you, Aemond… I see you still take your training seriously— you make a great knight.” Ser Gwayne commented, and the prince hummed. “I have no wish to be a knight.” He answered, and Ser Gwayned and smirked. 

“Come, I shall escort you to Mother’s chambers,” Aemond stated, turning around as he ventured to return to the royal wing. “I shall join you momentarily; I’d best visit the hand first,” The two princes gave the nod and went on to the direction of their mother’s chambers. Walking along in silence as there was a tension that came when they had not seen each other for so long, or perhaps it was a silent tension that followed Aemond wherever he went. 

Daeron parted his lips to try and speak pleasantries with his brother, but the sight of light green skirts caught his attention. “Elinora?” He called through the hall, making Aemond halt and the lady turn in question towards the familiar voice that called her name. “Daeron!” She said in surprise, and the youngest prince hastily made his way to her, forgetting all customs as he practically ran, picked up, and twirled the girl he had known since childhood. 

Elinora laughed in glee as she was spun off the ground, but as she caught the distant sight of Prince Aemond, she made the mirth in her die quickly and motioned for Daeron to place her back to the ground, clearing her throat as she was caught being entirely informal. 

“I—I thought you weren’t coming to the capitol,” Elinora said, a bit nervous as Prince Aemond stomped his way toward where she and Prince Daeron stood. “Well, we have been set to come for my mother’s name day, we just did not want our surprise to be known.” Prince Daeron exclaimed, and Aemond observed as the lady’s eyes widened. “We? Is Ser Gwayne here?” Elinora asked, looking around the hall, making Aemond curious as he saw and heard the excitement in her eyes and tone. “Well, of course. He is somewhere around the keep; I’m certain he’ll find his way to you,” Prince Daeron smirked knowingly, and a pretty blush was quick to creep up the girl’s cheeks, making Aemond’s curiosity severe. 

Elinora nodded and averted her gaze away from the princes, turning towards the gardens to hide the burning on her cheeks. She must admit, she had fancied Ser Gwayne since she was a young girl. The knight was always so gallant and kind and generous. He always brought the girl sweets whenever he was near Highgarden and entertained her during boring galas. But Elinora was well aware that her attraction towards the knight was and will always be one way, forever upholding his honor, which is ironically what Elinora found the most attractive quality of his— that and his face. 

“Well, I must be going— good morrow, my princes.” Elinora curtsied and tried to return to her way, but Daeron was quick to take hold of the girl’s hand, preventing her, Aemond raising a quizzical brow at his younger brother’s actions. “Nonsense, walk with us, I have not seen you in so long.” Daeron smiled and pulled lightly on the girl’s hand. “It’s only been a fortnight, Daeron,” Prince Aemond finally spoke, and Elinora could only give a sheepish smile in the direction of Prince Daeron. 

“Come now, tell me all your happenings here in court,” Prince Daeron urged and removed his hold from the girl’s hand and instead intertwined their arms as he often does as they stroll along the gardens in Lady Elinora’s home. Aemond walked a few steps behind them, irritation quick to bloom in him as he realized how truly familiar they were. It seemed worse than he thought, not only had Elinora nestled herself to Helaena’s side, but it would seem she had long been connected with Daeron. 

Aemond’s jaw ticked as he heard quiet laughs leaving the girl’s lips. Not once had she moved away from Daeron’s hold— only threading to him closer as his brother lowly whispered something to her, making Elinora’s blush deepen and make her laugh further. 

When they were nearing the royal apartments of the queen, Elinora’s laughs died, but her smile still remained but was only pointed at Prince Daeron, seemingly forgetting the presence of Prince Aemond. “I better go, brother was waiting for me in the gardens.” She informed, and Daeron’s brows raised. “You should have said! Edward is always one for punctuality; I’m certain you would not want another of your brother’s scolding,” The prince remarked, but Elinora smiled and shook her head. “I’m certain he’ll forgive me if he comes to know that you are here,” She smiled, and Aemond wanted to roll his eye. 

“Very well then, perhaps it’d be best if you wait for me then… what is a few more minutes more of tardiness if I am to save you already,” Daeron suggested, and Elinora tried to find a reason to delicately disagree with the prince’s suggestion, but she could not find the words so she could only force a smile and give a small nod. That was a bit of a dilemma for her, she was too shy and timid to disagree with almost everyone, unless in the very rare occurrence where she felt extremely strongly about the subject, like the instances she had with Prince Aemond. But besides that, she would only give a forced smile and agree to things she would rather not do. 

Elinora went to the side as Prince Daeron entered the queen’s chambers, and Elinora waited for Prince Aemond to follow suit, but he only stood outside with her. Elinora blew on her cheeks, not certain if she should speak to the prince that unnerved her. “You are quite… close with my brother,” The prince remarked, his feet once again carrying him closer to the girl. Elinora’s hands were placed on her back and from there, she nervously twiddled with her hair as the prince’s attention was on her once again. 

“Well, I’ve known Dae— Prince Daeron for years… often seeing him every weekend as he flew his dragon near Highgarden,” Elinora explained, and Aemond raised a brow at how truly familiar they were with one another, the lady who was a stickler in holding formalities, letting go as she addressed the younger prince without his royal title. Aemond hummed as he threaded closer to the girl who did not meet his gaze. “So you two are friends,” The prince stated, and Elinora nodded,  “Just… friends? Nothing more?” A confused frown quickly overcame Elinora’s face as the prince uttered the words. 

“Pardon, my prince?” She asked, and Aemond breathed in deeply, the scent of lilac and bergamot finally enveloping his senses. “We’ve heard reports that my brother was calling upon a lady… however, we never came to know her identity or who she was… is it you, my lady?” Aemond asked boldly, making Elinora’s eyes widen. Aemond smirked at the shock on her face. There were no such reports. He only thought of the lie at that moment because he was curious about his brother and Elinora’s closeness. 

“I… I have not heard of anything of the sort, my prince— and if Prince Daeron is courting a lady, I assure you it is not me.” Elinora replied, still shocked by how suddenly and shameless the prince asked her the question. Aemond smirked, thinking of another question to fluster the girl. It was so easy to do it! It was easy for him to put her in shock or surprise, to have a blush creep up her cheeks and have her jade eyes widen. 

“And why is that?” He questioned, still inching closer to her, who was nearing the stone wall. “Pardon?” She asked again, and Aemond’s smirk widened. “Why is my brother not courting you?” Elinora blinked a few times to comprehend the prince’s words, Elinora could sense he was enjoying making her feel unnerved, the smirk on his thin, pink lips only widening with each moment passed. She licked her lips, “Prince Daeron is not courting me because I am already betrothed.” Her answer made the smirk on Aemond’s lips slip away quickly. Aemond was rendered frozen, him now being the one who tried to comprehend the words uttered. 

Elinora stared at him, surprised as he looked quite perplexed. He did not move nor speak, and Elinora was quick to grow concerned and slightly offended. Was she truly that disagreeable in the eye of Prince Aemond that her revealing that she was betrothed had rendered him shocked? Elinora wanted to pout at the thought. She was ready to call for his attention, but the sound of a door opening and Prince Daeron calling her name made her disregard the thought, only curtsying quickly before Prince Aemond and stepping to the side to finally let Prince Daeron accompany her to the gardens. 

“You’re late, sister.” Edward sighed heavily as he heard the familiar footsteps of his sister, his eyes upon the book he read as he waited for Elinora. “Apologies, Edward. I stumbled upon Elinora and urged her to wait for me,” Prince Daeron was the one to reply, and Elinora smiled at the surprise on her brother’s face as Prince Daeron assisted her to her seat. “Dae— Prince Daeron! We did not know you were to come,” The prince greeted and stood, a quick pat on the back between the two was exchanged. “I thought it’d be a nice surprise.” Prince Daeron answered and sat across Lady Elinora, his violet eyes going around the gardens, questioning where his older brother had gone. “Had you come alone?” Lord Edward questioned, and before the prince could reply, a voice that was all too familiar spoke. “Of course not,” Ser Gwayned answered, his eyes catching the large smile that overcame the lips of Lady Elinora. 

Aemond observed from above the gardens as the four of them interacted, watching as Lady Elinora looked completely smitten by his mother’s brother. Was there truth in anything she had said? Was she truly betrothed? And if she was, to whom was she betrothed to? And why would she look so besotted by his uncle? The prince sneered and walked off, now remembering why he had avoided the girl the past days. There was always a weird pattern in his chest when she was near; it was as if he was out of breath and his skin crawled. And worst of all, he could not control his tongue. Aemond was always known for his cold, eerie silence, but whenever the girl was around, he could not pacify himself and stay silent. He always thought of something to say to her. That was quite a troublesome development for the prince. 

“To whom is she betrothed to?” The one-eyed prince was itching to ask his sister as he uncharacteristically joined her for tea the following morning. Two tots ran around the table they sat upon in the gardens, and the chirps of birds were accompanied by the cries of a babe. Helaena had been waiting for their younger brother, wanting to introduce Daeron to her children, though she was surprised as she was suddenly accompanied by Aemond. 

“Sister! Apologies for being tardy,” Daeron finally arrived, and his arm was Lady Elinora, her butterflies trailing the both of them. Aemond doubted further the statement of the girl that she was betrothed, especially as he once again saw firsthand the closeness she and his youngest brother had. Surely, her betrothed would frown upon such intimacy, even if it was only a social intimacy. He certainly would. 

“Good morrow, your Highnesses,” The lady greeted and curtsied before the prince and princess who were already sitting in the gardens. “Good morning, Lady Elinora. I’m glad you could join us,” Princess said softly, with a smile on her face even though the babe in her arms was wailing uncontrollably. 

“Well, this isn’t the welcome I expected from my nephew,” Prince Daeron remarked as he once again assisted Elinora to her seat. “I’m sorry brother… Maelor often has crying fits that we could only hope he could grow out of,” Helaena apologized, and Daeron shook his head. “No need for apologies, sister; I was only jesting.” As the words left the youngest prince’s lips, a butterfly strayed closer to the face of the crying babe— the insect’s fluttering and colorful wings effectively distracting Maelor. His cries died down as he stirred in his mother’s hold. His grubby little hands tried to reach for the butterfly that came with Lady Elinora. 

Elinora smiled fondly as she saw the once-saddened eyes of the babe turn excited as all of his attention was turned to the insect. Aemond, on the other hand, pursed his lips as his sister and brother were quick to commend the lady whose butterflies effectively ceased the cry fits of his nephew. 

As the day progressed, Aemond accompanied his brother in the tiltyard to train just as they often did in childhood. Daeron was speaking of his ventures in Oldtown, and Aemond could no longer restrain himself from asking the question that had been bugging him since yesterday. “So this Lord Redwyne… is he Lady Elinora’s betrothed?” Aemond slyly asked, forcefully making his tone cavalier and uncaring as Daeron shared the dances he partook in Highgarden with Lady Elinora always being present. 

Daeron frowned, “Oh gods no.” He said as his brother raised his brow. “Then who is?” The prince questioned. “I… I actually do not know— neither does she. Only her parents and brother know, but they refrain from revealing the name of the lord until she is of age. They only constantly remind her that she is to be bound to another, which is why she was never allowed to be courted by the lords.” The youngest prince informed, but it only served to confuse Aemond further. 

“I remember a distant cousin of ours was so taken and in love with Elinora that when he came to find that her hand was already promised to another, he vowed never to marry and instead joined the brown brothers. To this day, none has heard him speak again… only hearing distinct mutters of incoherent words as he prayed in the sept.” 

Aemond’s frown deepens. Throughout the past few days, he thought he had come to know all that was there in regard to Lady Elinora. He thought her to be quite simple, just a sheltered, naive lady of a noble house who was too weak with kindness. However, now, he is coming to realize that she is perhaps an enigma— a mystery that she herself cannot answer. 

“I’m glad you have taken well to court,” Aemond heard the voice of his uncle, and he quickly turned just to see Lady Elinora accompanied by Ser Gwayne. Elinora could only force a smile, not wanting to utter the truth of how the court had welcomed her. “And my nephews… have they proven to be genteel and honorable?” Elinora could only blink at the question. 

With the limited interactions he had with Prince Aegon, all she had gathered from it was she did not wish to be in the presence of the eldest prince, who made her skin crawl and her insides filled with uncertainty and dread. Prince Aemond, on the other hand, was… was… Elinora could not even find the words to describe the second-born prince. He was a mystery— a riddle that she could never figure out. 

The lady only smiled further at the knight, who seemed pleased enough to see the grin on the girl’s lips. He always had a soft spot for Lady Elinora, seeing her as less than a noble lady but more like his younger sister, whom he could never bond with as she was taken to court and he had to stay in Old Town. 

“Will you stay to watch me and my nephews train?” The knight softly asked, glancing towards the two silver princes, an eye already observing them. “I— I’m sorry, but I must go; I’m to spend time with my mother.” Elinora said with a sad smile, and Ser Gwayne gave a nod, “Well, let me escort you then; I can—“ Elinora quickly shook her head, “No, you’re already here; I can go by myself.” Elinora insisted, not wanting to inconvenience the knight who had been so kind to her ever since she was a child. “My, look how independent you have become,” Ser Gwayne teased, and Elinora laughed and shook her head. “Good day, Ser Gwayne,” Elinora curtsied before returning inside the castle walls. But before she could enter, she caught the lilac eye of a cold prince who looked upon her calculatedly. 

When Elinora sat with her mother in her chambers, she was made to do her embroidery, a hoop, and a needle in her hands. Her mother was sat across from her, Lady Tyrell’s back turned against the fire, a scripture book in her hands as she read the holy words for her daughter. “Shun all forms of sexual immorality. For every other transgression that a man shall commit is external to the body, but he who indulges in such immoral acts sins against his own flesh. Know that your body is sacred and that you have received it from the gods.” 

Elinora blushed at the particular scripture her mother decided to recite. It was quite scandalous! The girl thought as she awkwardly cleared her throat and readjusted her posture. “You must always bear this in mind, my darling…” Lady Tyrell warned, and Elinora nodded fervently. “Yes, mother, I know. I must guard my virtue for my husband— he shall be the first and only one to have it,” Elinora answered, this particular teaching instilled in her mind ever since she had her first blood. 

“Good,” Her mother smiled, satisfied by her daughter’s words and the embarrassed blush on her cheeks, which sedated her fears that a deviant might have corrupted her precious daughter’s innocent mind. “I must advise you to be wary, Elinora… the court is… is not the most suitable environment for a young lady. Men and their depravity lurks in each corner… I urge you to tell me or your father or brother if any dares to take advantage of your kindness and innocence.” Elinora’s brows furrowed slightly as to what her mother was implying, but Elinora still nodded, though she was not quite certain what Lady Tyrell meant. 

Her mother let out a breath of relief and turned the page of her scriptures, but before she could begin to read aloud another verse, Elinora spoke. “Mother… might ask— it’s just—“ Elinora stuttered, as her mother looked upon her expectantly. “Who is my betrothed? You and father and brother always say that my hand has been already promised, but I am still to know who he is… who am I to marry?” She asked delicately. 

“We have discussed this, my darling. You shall come to know and meet your betrothed when the time is right,” Lady Tyrell stated their mantra to avoid telling Elinora more about her betrothal. “But when is that?” She asked, pulling the needle through the cloth. “Patience, Elinora. We have always taught you that patience is a virtue… why do you forget? You shall come to know all of it in time, but for now, you must exercise patience.” Her mother warned, tone growing harsher and stricter with each word. “Yes, of course, mother, I apologize,” Elinora quickly said, lowering her head as she stepped beyond bounds. Lady Tyrell gave a nod and continued on to recite the scriptures. 

Aemond pursed his lips as it was nearing sundown, and he realized what he had done the whole day. Ever since his training with sword ended at noon, he had been going from maester to maester to question them about a particular betrothal. Each betrothal and union in the kingdom had to gain the blessing of the king or, in recent years, the small council. The maesters had a list of those betrothed, altering them when the couples had been married or if their betrothals had dissolved. 

“Why do I even care?” The prince questioned himself as he held a ladder to stabilize it as a maester tried to retrieve a scroll from a high shelf. “Which house was it again, my prince?” The maester asked, dust cascading down as he pulled up on the neglected scrolls. “Tyrell.” He stated, tapping his foot in impatience. He was past the point of no return now; he had spent half the day invested in the betrothal of a girl that he could not stand. 

“Ah, here we are,” The maester stated and slowly climbed down the ladder, testing further the prince’s patience. As the old man’s feet were firmly placed on the ground, he fidgeted with the scroll, and the prince had to stifle down his urge just to grab the declaration from the wrinkling hands of the man. 

“Lady Elinora of house Tyrell… daughter of Lord Benjamin and Lady Charlotte Tyrell, betrothed three moons after her birth in the ye—“ The prince’s jaw ticked, “To whom, grand maester?” The prince almost bit out. The maester was silent for a moment as he finished reading the scroll. “It does not state whom, my prince. The name has been shaded off.” Aemond frowned and snatched the scroll from his hands. “How is that possible? That is not allowed! It must state to whom she is betrothed; why would the king sign this declaration?” Aemond said in severe irritation. 

“Well, the king did not sign the declaration; it was your grandfather, the lord hand.” The maester informed and pointed towards the seal of his grandfather. “If you wish to know further about the lady Elinora, you must ask the hand, I’m afraid this is as far as I know, my prince.” The maester said, and Aemond stared into his milky eyes to see if he told the truth, he did. Aemond nodded and rolled the scroll once more before hiding it in his pocket. 

The prince walked the halls to return to his chambers and be absolved of his foolishness— to assess and have a talking with himself for his actions. Just as he reached the royal wing, he saw the reason for his ridiculousness. Ironic, wasn’t it? There he was, calling the girl ridiculous for showing love for a mere butterfly, but he just spent a great amount of effort to know who she was betrothed to— she, a girl he completely abhorred. The gull they have to put her, a mere lady, in the royal chambers!

“Good evening, Your Highness,” Elinora quickly curtsied as they passed, her gaze avoiding him as she tried to fasten her steps to return to her chambers quickly. Aemond, on the other hand, paused and thought of just asking her the answer to the question that had been pestering in his mind. But he could not just blatantly ask her the matter of her betrothal. It would make him look like he cared, which he didn’t.

“You lied.” He suddenly stated, his voice echoing through the empty halls. He heard the sound of footsteps seizing, and he watched as Lady Elinora stopped in her tracks and slowly turned to him. “I’m sorry, my prince?” Elinora questioned, “You should be. It is considered treason to lie to a prince,” Aemond said as he threaded closer to the girl. “What? I—I have not lied,” Elinora defended, a deep furrow in her brows as her fingers fiddled with her hair in nervousness. 

The prince scoffed. “There you go once more, another lie.” The prince stated, ticking his tongue in disapproval. “I do not know what you mean, my prince— but I assure you, I— I tell no lies,” Elinora said, trying to make her voice sound firm, but Aemond could still sense nervousness in it. “Good,” He thought. It was always easier to gather information from people who were filled with nerves.

“You said you were betrothed… but there is no truth to that, is there?” Elinora’s lips parted in shock and confusion. “Wh— but I am betrothed, I did not lie… why would I lie about such a matter?” She questioned with a slight tilt of her head, her hair cascading down her shoulders, which momentarily caught the prince’s attention. The way the dark auburn curls swayed with each and every little movement she made. 

“I do not know… perhaps you are embarrassed— desperate. Having to lie to a prince just to fulfill a fantasy in your little head,” Elinora was often confused, but only in the presence of Prince Aemond did she feel utterly clueless. She could never understand what he said, his actions, or his mood. He was unpredictable, and Elinora did not appreciate that. She never liked the unpredictable; it only made her nervous and antsy.

“I do not appreciate your accusations, my prince— what I say is the truth, but very well, believe what you wish,” Elinora said, growing a bit of courage as she was losing patience in trying to be cordial with Prince Aemond. Aemond raised a brow at the sudden change of attitude in the girl. 

“Hm, very well then, try to convince me that you say the truth.” Aemond crossed his arms across his chest as he peered down at Lady Elinora, her scent of lilacs and bergamot surrounding his senses once again. “How?” The prince hummed and shrugged, “Tell me your betrothed’s name, then I shall believe you.” Elinora bit at her cheeks as she looked at the prince’s eye, cruel amusement in his eye. 

“I do not know.” She muttered, and Aemond leaned further. “What? I did not quite hear that. Were you not taught that ladies should not mutter under their breath?” Aemond taunted. Elinora inhaled deeply, spite slowly shining in her eyes. “I do not know, my prince. I was never told his name.” Elinora admitted, now realizing how curious it was that the prince was quite interested in the matter of her betrothal. “I knew it, you lie.” Th prince said cruelly, tormenting the girl he fully knew told the truth but only pestered her further just because… we he didn’t know why, but he could not help himself. 

“I tell no lie! I do not know, only because my family refuses to tell me his name! I was only told that I am betrothed, but never his name.” Elinora explained, voice growing louder as she was starting to fill with annoyance. She hated this! She hated being interrogated for an answer she did not know, and she loathed that she was being called a liar when all her life, she had only told a handful of lies and fibs! 

“And you believe them? You believe that you are betrothed just because they say you are, but they gave you any reason to believe such folly.” 

“Yes! They are my family… they care and love for me, why would they lie?” Elinora wanted to run back to her chambers, hating the way the prince was cruelly trying to plant doubts in her mind. “I do not know… perhaps the same reason why you lie.” The prince challenged, finding no remorse in his actions even when he saw the turmoil in her jade eyes. “But I have told you, I tell no lie! Even if my family lies as you accuse them of doing so, that does not mean I lie because I only repeat what they told!” Aemond only stared at the girl, searching his brain for a response to further continue their conversation, which the girl saw as an interrogation. 

There was a beat of silence, and Elinora sighed heavily to break it. “Why do you even care, my prince? So what if I am betrothed or not? What does it matter to you?” Elinora asked more softly, her irritation quickly calming down. She was never really one to hold grudges or ill feelings for too long. 

Aemond was taken aback by her question. “I—I don’t. I don’t care about you,” he said a bit too quickly, his tone defensive. Elinora nodded in understanding. “Then, it shouldn't matter if I tell a lie or not, now should it?” Elinora questioned, and Aemond was left speechless. Elinora waited for a moment for the prince to reply, but when he made none and only gaped at her, the girl curtsied before him. “Good night, Prince Aemond.” She uttered and turned to finally return inside her chambers.

Tag List: @sapphirevhagar @dahlias-and-marigolds @shygardengalaxy-blog @m-riaa

[jessamine-rose]

⋆𖥧˚𖤣*ꕤ Viparyas ꕤ*𖤣˚𖥧⋆

Read my Yandere! Capitano fics first (´∀｀*)

Herbarium ๑ Fairytale ๑ Other fics

A long time ago, I thought of a silly Yandere! Capitano x Damsel! Darling scenario, this time featuring the Aranara. Aaand now we have yet another epilogue to their twisted fairytale xD

Thank you so much to @jymwahuwu for inspiring me to finally write this fluffy idea and @diodellet for beta-reading this <3

Tw:: yandere, captivity, Stockholm Syndrome, mention of abuse from Darling’s backstory

Note:: Fem reader who is smaller and weaker than Capitano, spoilers for previous fics

♡ 0.8k words under the cut ♡

The first and last time ______ tried to “escape” from Capitano happened during their unofficial honeymoon in Sumeru.

In all of their nature tours, she has encountered the same…forest creatures? Whatever they are, they are small. Whimsical. Quick to disappear once they sense her gaze. What’s most mysterious is that Capitano and the Fatui are unable to see them.

She stops mentioning them after the third sighting. Clinics aren’t a popular tourist spot, and their leisure time is already cut short by the real purpose of the trip, namely Capitano’s diplomatic mission. If not for her guard’s betrayal, ______ wouldn’t even be here with him.

During his diplomatic negotiations, she stays in their hotel room, unable to interact with anyone except the Fatui agents stationed all over the building. Usually, she passes the time by reading her new books. But one day, towards the end of the mission, she goes to the balcony for fresh air…and sees the forest creatures foraging in the clearing behind the hotel.

Well, it makes sense. They did book a secluded hotel in Dharma Forest.

It seems that this group is more trusting of humans, seeing how they cheerfully called out to her and flew up to the balcony. As it turns out, their species is called the Aranara, and they can only be seen by children and certain adults. They seem friendly.

They invite her to their village, with the promise of flowers and stories. Their offer is tempting, considering the weeks she has spent in constant surveillance and confusion over the Aranara. They even help her leave the hotel undetected!

Vanarana is quite nice and so are her new companions. They sing to her, tell her their stories, and even help her pick flowers. ______ is silent for the most part, but she does express her appreciation with headpats and small smiles.

They are pleasant company, really. And that is why, amidst their lighthearted interactions, ______ can’t help but think: Had she been raised in Sumeru, could she have found solace in the Aranara? If that were the case, would she have settled for Capitano’s love?

A few hours later, she decides it is time to return to her husband. So she thanks the Aranara one last time and accepts the flower crown they made for her. As she leaves Vanarana, her newly-pressed Viparyas transform into regular Padisarah.

Unfortunately, she underestimated the consequences of her actions. In less than a minute, ______ is accosted by a frantic Fatuus and escorted back to the hotel.

As it turns out, while she was enjoying the Aranara’s company, the Fatui have been searching for her all over Sumeru. Their panic only worsened when Capitano finished his meeting and began looking for her.

It has been a long time since she has feared her husband’s wrath. Despite everything they’ve been through, how can she be sure that he won’t punish her this time?

This time, her guards are stationed inside her hotel room. Soon, all of them including ______ are alerted by a familiar set of footsteps. Capitano opens the door and dismisses the guards.

The tension is unbearable. There are no harsh words, no physical violence, but it is clear that he wants answers from his wife. And a part of her feels guilty for making him worry about her safety again, moreso when he asks if he has done anything to make her feel neglected in Sumeru.

So she tells him about the Aranara. She hands over her flower crown for inspection. She swears that she won’t do it again, that she wasn’t assisted by any Fatui traitors, that she only went to Vanarana out of curiosity and not for the purpose of leaving him.

They made a promise during their honeymoon, didn’t they? That if she ever runs away, he’d capture her immediately?

She doesn’t know how to feel when her husband’s touch becomes gentle. When he apologizes for scaring her. When he says that he believes her story.

Later that night, when ______ takes out her notebook, she flips to the page of Sumeru roses she’d preserved for him. The flowers need a few more days.

The next day, they continue their travels in Sumeru. ______ stops acknowledging the Aranara apart from subtle glances. The forest spirits can only question the increase in Fatui guards, the new locks on the balcony, her husband’s tight grip around her waist.

She is also forbidden from telling anyone about her experience with the Aranara, especially Il Dottore.

✿ BONUS ✿

Fatui:: WHERE ON EARTH IS LADY ______?!! WHAT KIND OF DANGER COULD SHE BE IN?!! OH MY GOD THE CAPTAIN IS GOING TO KILL US IF WE CAN’T FIND HER!! T0T

~Meanwhile~

Aranara:: We should cheer up Sad Nara with the Taste of Happiness!! >:0

Darling:: …Thank you for the dessert.

♡

First Laurestine, now this…….how many old brainrots are going to be written now that Capitano is in the Main Story?? This drabble turned out longer than expected, but it was fun to think about Damsel bonding with the Aranara + another soft moment with Capitano + the Fatui’s panic. I think Seelies would also take a liking to her and her husband (●´ω｀●)

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @brynn-lear @zhongrin @euniveve @naraven @harmonysanreads @stickyspeckledlight @ainescribe @tylerxrbtwhp @whispereons

[maddie-dog-story-blog]

Halloween Party

You walked up to the door of the house party wearing the sluttiest Halloween outfit you could find. Your chest, your midriff, your ass, your legs, all of the best parts of you were prominently on display.

It was your first Halloween as an adult, and you were ready to show off to all of your new college friends just how adult you were.

You were definitely going home with the most beautiful person at the party tonight.

You were certain that all eyes were going to be on you as soon as you stepped through the door.

You weren't wrong.

As soon as you stepped through the door, all eyes turned towards you and you could hear the whispers begin.

"Their Mommy let them out of the house like that?"

"I heard they doesn't even have a Daddy!"

"Gross! They're clearly not wearing a diapy in that skimpy costume. What if they potty on the floor?"

The living room you had stepped into was full of the 18 to 20-something-year-old co-eds you were expecting, but that was where your expectations ended.

Friends, people you knew from classes, from work, and from walking around campus were all dressed in the most childish costumes you had ever seen.

There were princesses in poofy dresses wearing clearly plastic jewelry, cats in large, baggy onesies with pink kitten ears and sewn on tails, pirates with baggy pants and shirts and drawn on scars, and superheroes in what could only be described as cheap one piece cotton pajamas with too small capes.

More concerning than the childish costumes were the seemingly unrelated accessories the party goers also had.

Many of the judgmental stares were coming from pairs of eyes planted above lips suckling giant pacifiers. Multiple adults were drinking something white out of sippy cups and baby bottles. One women, appropriately dressed in a frog costume, sat in what could only be described as a giant baby bouncer.

Worst of all though was that, to a person, each young adult in the room clearly had a comically large diaper taped around their waist.

From the room's smell, it was also immediately clear to you that those diapers were well used.

Blushing from both the immediate comments about your outfit and embarrassment at seeing people you know dressed and acting like giant toddlers, you moved to leave. Before you could take a step though, a hand gripped your arm.

"Oh, sweetie! You know you can't leave until your Mommy or Daddy comes and picks you up!"

You turn to see the blue eyes and blonde hair of Laura, your best friend and the party's host, staring at you. She was dressed in a cheap, green fairy costume with a tulle skirt that did little to hide the clearly soggy diaper swaying between her legs.

"My Mommy?" You asked, confused.

You moved to pull away from Laura's grip, not understanding what was going on. A pit of dread was forming in your stomach; concern with how normal everyone was treating the obviously ridiculous scene in front of you overtaking you. Something was wrong.

As hard as you pulled away from Laura, however, you couldn't break her grip.

"Yes, sweetie, your Mommy! We can't have you trying to waddle your way home dressed like," she gave you an appraising once over before continuing, "that, can we?"

The feeling of dread intensified as Laura spoke. You didn't have a 'Mommy' or 'Daddy' to pick you up. You had come there yourself. You should be able to leave on your own. But, for some reason, Laura's words felt ~right~.

You felt a warm, wet sensation from your crotch, quickly followed by the sound of liquid dripping on the floor as your fear enveloped you.

Laura tsked disapprovingly as she looked at the puddle growing on the floor between your legs.

"Your Mommy really let you out of the house without protection? And no diaper bag? Well, come on, I have an extra costume and diapers in my room."

Your ever present blush deepened as your fairy companion frog-marched you to her bedroom-turned-nursery while the various other adult toddlers at the party giggled and laughed at you behind your back.

Despite this all feeling wrong, the outfits, the diapers, the giant crib in Laura's room, and the fact that you wet yourself, you physically couldn't bring yourself to do anything else but stand there as your best friend stripped you of your urine soaked clothes.

You felt the overwhelming desire to comply when she laid a diaper on the ground and ordered you to lay down on it.

You didn't say a word as your best friend taped you into the first diaper you've worn since you were an actual infant, and you raised your arms like a good baby when she pulled the orange pumpkin onesie over your head and buttoned the snaps between your legs.

When the green pacifier was pressed between your lips, you instinctively began suckling as all thoughts of escape left your head.

The next few hours passed like a blur. You remember drinking milk, playing with dolls and trucks, eating cookies, and giggling with your friends. In many ways, it was the most fun you had ever had.

As the night drew to a close, the party began to thin out. No one seemed to care as a parade of new men and women, actual adults, your sub-conscious told you, came and began to remove the other party goers one by one.

Eventually, when it was just you and Laura playing patty-cake on the floor, a new women walked into the house and stared at you with a huge, loving smile.

You had never seen anyone more beautiful in your life.

"There's my silly, little pumpkin! Did you have a good time?"

You giggled as the woman who you were growing more certain was your Mommy, picked you up and tickled your belly playfully.

She gave your diaper a probing squeeze, causing you to realize for the first time it was soaked, before bouncing you onto her hip.

"Let's get your soggy little tushy home!" Mommy said as she carried you out the door.

You waived good-bye to Laura as the door closed, and you realized you accomplished your goal. You're going home with the most beautiful person at the party. Just not quite how you expected.