#i am currently going through a fixation of kiss scene ideas and it is not okay pls send emergency services to throw me into a building

[baeshijima]

actor!au, where it's the kiss scene after a particularly emotional moment-slash-pre confession and you're expecting a chaste peck to stop your character mid-ramble (like the script says), only to find yourself at a loss by the hand curled around the back of your head, the other cradling your cheek, and his lips flush against yours.

it's feverish, desperate, and full of desire; everything the scripted kiss was not supposed to be, and most definitely not what you were prepared for. you couldn't even catch a glimpse of what the directors thought, for the hand against the back of your head prevents you from focusing on anything other than the man kissing you as though he means it — as though it wasn't all an act.

(after the episode aired, that one short scene went viral, comments about your unmatched chemistry both on-screen and behind-the-scenes now everywhere you look. interviews with the two of you reached millions within hours, all wanting a piece of the unmatched chemistry you both shared off-screen.)

(the masses spiralled even further after learning that scene was all ad-lib.)

(it came to no surprise to anyone that you both won the best couple award, instead fawning over your shared speech as that, too, went viral.)

[hufflautia]

Believe me darling, the stars were made for falling

Hello! I didn’t expect to post this “fanfic” because I didn’t write it specifically for fanfiction, if that makes sense. Today, (well it is technically tomorrow for you or perhaps you’re not viewing this on the day that I posted it. today is 12/11 (technically its 12/12 because its 1:39 AM rn lmao i did my makeup and it took longer than expected)) my creative writing teacher told us to write a short piece for a character that I created for the class. I wrote it and I thought about posting it because I liked the idea of it, and I felt as though the main character had slytherin vibes. I also really like the ending, and I wanted to share it with others. 

This is not a typical slytherpuff story. It has no magic involved. Slytherin and Hufflepuff are normal people like you and me, aka muggles (or maybe you’re not a muggle( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) who knows?). The story has nothing to do with Harry Potter. Thus, I am creating another section for my masterlist and it will be labeled “somefink special” because its not technically harry potter related. However, it will always have Hufflepuff and Slytherin in it, because I made sure to change the names from the original character. Stories like this is just a work of art that I would like to share with others, so I think of it as somefink special (and somefink is not an actual word, its supposed to be “something” but i just think the spelling is funny). I’m not sure if I will post more stuff like this, as in stuff that doesn’t relate to harry potter but still has my usual characters. Heck, perhaps I’ll write fanfics like this but for other character ships like Slytherin x Ravenclaw or the other ones. We shall see. 

Anyways, this “quick” author’s note is running a little long, so I will end it here. I hope you guys enjoy reading this! TOODELOO

FYI, this is not my “monthly” fanfic. In other words, this isn’t the only fanfic that I will be posting for december. I will still be posting The Queen and the Dragon soon (around Christmas). I am almost done with the college process, I need to revise some of my essays and I will finally submit it. After that, I will continue writing the long story. I am currently stuck at a difficult scene that will require a lot of thinking, hence the delay. OK BYE NOW, THIS IS THE FOR-REALSIES TOODELOO :D! 

***WARNINGS: Drug abuse, addiction, and suicidal thoughts 

Summary: Slytherin is hanging out with her favorite person in the entire world: Hufflepuff, her darling little sister. They lay beneath the stars, comfortable silence drifting upon them like a soft blanket that wraps around them, keeping them safe from outside forces that threaten their moment of contentment. This small pocket of tranquility is rare—and Slytherin knows this. She knows it all too well. As if on cue, it breaks into shattered pieces when she overhears their parents arguing. Again. Dread stealing her breath, a familiar urge rises once more, an urge that is more destructive than she realizes. She wishes the overwhelming feeling of anxiety would go away. And it could—with the help of a couple of pills. 

Slytherin smiled, a feeling of mirth warming her heart when she saw the smile plastered on her sister’s face as they laid on their backs against the porch floor, staring up at the stars. She took a hold of Hufflepuff’s hand, her touch slightly sweaty but cold at the same time. She didn’t mind and merely gave it a light squeeze. A cool night breeze blew past them, the wind’s touch like gentle kisses against their skin. 

This was nice. This was really nice. Slytherin hardly had any time for herself this week, because she was busy with exam after exam, stress piling on top of her before she could even take a breath of air. To her relief, the burdens finally lifted because it was Saturday, and she didn’t have to worry about school. She was with her sister, and that was all she needed. In fact, she was so comfortable and content that she didn’t even think about the drugs. A pestilent part of her, the part that was created the moment she swallowed the white pill down her throat, urged her to go inside. To walk nonchalantly towards the bathroom with a pace that was fast enough so that she would get to where she wanted to go quickly but slow enough to not attract any attention. To snatch her mom’s bottle of Xanax and hurry to her own room, making sure to lock the door before sitting on her bed. To pop the drug into her mouth and allow the artificial feeling of euphoria to overtake her.   

But that destructive part of her settled down, for she was with the person she loved most. Their surroundings dark enough to see the hazy glow of the stars above, they laid there, gazing upon the night sky. Aside from the soft rustling of the trees nearby and the occasional giggles that spilled from her sister’s mouth because that’s just how 10-year-olds were, it was quiet and peaceful. 

But like most things, it didn’t last for long. 

“You fucking asshole!” 

Through the walls, Slytherin could hear her mother’s muffled words, her tone hot and angry. Whenever her parents argued, they would spit curse words out like poison, the dreadful toxin targeted at each other with the intent to kill and destroy. 

She sighed. For once, just for once, why couldn’t things be normal? She desperately wished that the comfortable silence that drifted upon them could come back, and she would gladly welcome it with open arms. 

However, she felt Hufflepuff squeeze her hand, and she knew that the peace that she had known a few minutes ago would not return. Not for a while. Squeezing her hand was a nervous habit of Hufflepuff’s—a habit that Slytherin was well aware of. Even if she tried her very best to shield her darling sibling from the atrociousness of their home-life, it was essentially impossible. 

Her sister was young and so terribly innocent. If she could, she would take all the pain that Hufflepuff endured from living in a dysfunctional household and pour it into herself. That way, she wouldn’t have to suffer. 

But this wasn’t a fairy tale. Slytherin didn’t have magical powers to take their suffering away. She couldn’t give her sister the happy ending that she deserved. This was reality, and they would just have to endure this for a while. 

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered before opening the porch door and stepping into the dungeon that she called home. Dread seemed to choke her as she neared her parents’ room, inhaling sharply at the sound of shouts that seemed to boom from the walls. 

Gingerly turning the knob of their door, she peeked inside. Tears trickled down her mother’s face, her slightly red eyes ablaze with anger. “I can’t believe you would cheat on me again!” 

Her dad started to mutter something lowly but she cut him off. “Do you have any idea how much this affects me,” she said in disbelief. “How much this affects your children?” 

She suddenly caught sight of Slytherin, who immediately felt a sinking feeling in her chest when she was caught lurking. The feeling intensified when her mom walked towards her. 

Slytherin immediately withdrew and tried to close the door but her mom opened it enough to fixate the full force of her anger onto her daughter. “Why can’t you mind other people’s business,” she hissed before slamming the door shut, leaving her in complete darkness. 

There it was. The breaking point. Her face contorted into a grimace as she tried to will the tears away. Her sadness quickly morphed into annoyance. “I hate her,” she thought angrily as she walked to her room. “She’s gonna wish she didn’t say that when she finds me dead on the fucking floor.” Her chest heaved with sorrow and a torrent of emotions clashed within her. A million thoughts zoomed through her head. Fucking bitch, I fucking hate you. I hate everything. I wish I was never born into this family. I hate my parents, I hate my mom, I hate my dad. Why the fuck did he have to cheat? Were we not enough? 

She was frustrated and resentful, but most of all, she was broken inside. She needed to calm the raging storm of anxiety within her—and she knew exactly what to do. 

Hiding the bottle of Xanax in her pocket, she walked towards her room. Just as she was opening her door, she felt someone close their hand over her wrist. She looked back and saw Hufflepuff, who looked at her with furrowed brows. 

“Are you coming back,” she asked in a small voice. 

Slytherin swallowed with difficulty. If things had gone differently, she would have gone back to the porch with her sister and continued their night of stargazing. If her parents weren’t completely psychos whose hate for each other shook the household, she wouldn’t be addicted to the drugs that controlled her life. 

“I have homework to do,” she responded. “Ask Gryffindor to go outside with you, okay?” 

Her sister nodded and started her way to their other sister who decided not to join them on the porch because she had cooler 13-year old things to do. 

Slytherin watched her retreating figure before closing the door and twisting the lock in a flash. She exhaled slowly as she took a seat on the edge of her bed. 

“Finally,” she breathed out in a whisper as she uncapped the bottle, gently shaking it so that a couple of tablets spilled out onto her hand. She had never taken so much, and she knew that as she poked the contents with a finger. But she needed this. Her family—more specifically, her parents—were fucked up, and there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t fix her father’s constant infidelity. She couldn’t control her mother’s temper. Hell, she couldn’t even take hold of her own life, for the white rectangular capsules held the reins, the power. And she would gladly let it take control. Just for a little while longer. 

Slytherin tossed the pills into her mouth and took a sip of water to ease them down her throat. She fell back onto her bed with her arms spread out on either side of her, forming a crooked ‘T’ shape. As she stared up at the ceiling, a blissful smile slid onto her face. 

She could see the stars again.

Comments and reblogs are a writer’s gold! 

MASTERLIST ; sometimes links don’t appear on posts. if you can’t see the link linked to “MASTERLIST”, the masterlist itself is pinned to the top of my blog. check it out if you haven’t already :D

Author’s note: HELLO AGAIN! I hope you enjoyed reading that. The story is dark and sad, so I will include some wholesome pictures to rid you of the lingering sadness that you might be feeling right now. 

you can probably tell that i’m a dog person lmao :’) I hope you are feeling better! I am not sure if I will turn this into a series; there is a chance I will because I will have to continue writing stories in english class for this character. i actually have another story for the character (her name is Faye) and idk if I should post it. Let me know if you want me to release it! 

Did anyone else feel slytherin vibes from... well, slytherin? Technically it’s Faye, but I changed the name for the purpose of posting. In my opinion, the slytherin in her is presented in the fact that she cares a lot about her sister, aka Hufflepuff, and slytherins typically care a lot about those close to them. it was also shown in the sense that she isolates herself, but then again, anyone can isolate themself, regardless of their hogwarts house. maybe im just overthinking this. After all, if I had changed the name from Faye to Hufflepuff, that could still work as well. 

In fact, I might even change the names sometimes, depending on what is happening in that moment. Faye is pansexual, and I was talking to my friend about the story, and she said maybe she’ll get a gf, so maybe ill keep Faye’s name as Slytherin and have Hufflepuff (DIFFERENT HUFFLEPUFF FROM THE LITTLE SISTER OF COURSE) be the girlfriend?? idk, we’ll see. 

Anyways, let me know what you thought of this fanfic. Should I do more like this, as in post my future works that arent actually related to harry potter but is set in the real world? 

OH GOSH BEFORE I FORGET, THANK YOU FOR 700!! I guess this will be my thank you present, because I like to write fanfics as a present whenever I hit a follower mark. I intended The Queen and The Dragon to be the thank-you present for 600, but we are well past that, and the fanfic is long overdue. I had planned to change the fanfic to “thank you for 700” but i plan on posting it near christmas, so i will consider it as a “MERRY CHRISTMAS, HERES A FANFIC:D”. 

As always, I appreciate you very very much. Thank you for reading this and being caring enough to do so. I appreciate that very very very much, and I am sending you some gucci vibes! It is currently 2:34 am and i should get some sleep. goodnight! love you all! BYE

TAGS: 

@slytherpuff-shenanigans @lokijiro @xxkitsurikaxx @sara-is-boredd @skylee-skz   @determinedpines @draco22malfoy @pancakes-and-sugar  @casteel08 @indigosimon1998 @tell-that-to-my-feather @the-ugly-duck0 @prettyblueskylark  @okiguessimawitchnow @daisyinmyheart @peachyblue @korra4321 @shoyoockbby  @ravenflowersposts @walkinganomaly @parkerthemarker02 @hummingbird-hufflepuff @bumbblebeeeeee @luciferswife16 @iknow-im-cute @maisen98 @shadowsinger11 @tuonglam03 @fanfic-reblogger @mygc0re @rellasworld @sha3thehunter @croctusjuice @jadefox05 @d0uxs @charleii @kaylenthegreat @nekuneku13 @hufflepufflepukwudgie3897 @insertlongnamehere @trashpannda @ihate-myname @nowheredreamer @history-geek101 @strawberrypanda99 @nikkijovanic @hannanshi @sirenofthe7seas  @johannamariemst @badass-like-damon @mybreadstickbabe @willow-salix @remmyswritings @x-whatsupdoc-x @dracosvftie @hitchhiker-of-the-galaxy @akerlizzie @thatfann @justanxiousme @another-witch @bucinjisung @elegantcroissantplaidpony @treefroggo @narritydream @hufflpuffles @adreameratdawn @leftpeanutturtleegg @turbulentbluebird5 @geekgirl69 @praiseourlordduck @quakemebacktothe50s @nomad-of-the-realms @stardustzainy  @theblackwolf21 @crakencc​ @introvertedrae @cryinbisexual @bojelina @cocoqueenstheword @manicpixiedreamtarot @velvetstrawberry @jxmpsuitx @simpering-simpleton @urfaveslytherin @asterinatlas @simpforkpop @pufflehuff929 @morallyambiguoussimp @applekenm @chunwest @oncergleekpotterhead @no1-importan @qiaopao  @dulduldoldul @schlongbottom @vickeyunicorn @peanut-in-the-goal @hufflepuffgirly @flvrqnce @nothingtoseehere812 @maxwellsgang @1d-killed-me @betacaroteno-lanudo @dragon-slayer-fairy1 @thatonebislytherin @dragonsandbread @justanotherperson @sophiexteresa @hmilkwhoney @writertwiddle @questionsbecameourocean @anomiatartle @coldsweetharmony @dont-hyuck @fixstationed @kindawannadietbh @trippy-morgan @xo-angel-ox @fangirlgeekandfreak @evolnura @mossy-axolotl @verylovelystars @boilyourteeth @megand2017 @malfoys-demigod @booksntings @joshirlangford @staymoarmyzen @poojxshxh @hedgepuffgirl @alverniaphi @verifiefangirl-mainblog @purpleskymalfoy @roxy3457 @rayanicaraynbow @jess-harrywars @starrysonic @tonksichu @lauxtbs @tumlbr-trasher @chelseasosa @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @swagangelhorsepickle @princessstoopid @pymmoon @emilyaneliperry @pond-waterr @pandapillow @saraleo95 @astrartss @trentalexanders @theoriginaljohnwatsonsblog @nevilletheplantboi @just--another--hufflepuff @yoongifiess @ajdqueen @annie-mcl @coloring-bud @majorfangirl37 @eatacrackerandstop @weasleytwinswheezes @imscaredofhorses @dontmindmeimjustabox @glitterykidlightmug @multi-fandom-nutjob @littleemotionalpanda @thewitcheswords  @blueberry-9-pancakes @worldsbestdilfbecky @qixnsriess @inexperiencedpotathoe @notsowiseravenclaw @captiniminnie @ruinyourface @da-fox-rangerrr @inkedintothepaper  @happy-puff @grandcyclecreation @dawinehouse @catiwisspuff @aasa2102  @mae-25 @sydthekidd98 @kokichismango @xxavaloraxx @iamahufflepuff @adoregin @sunnniiee @lewispoolerpayton @dumbbitch85 @bumblebirbs @diggorycullen @protectorofsk8topia @silverhetdanes @zuko-28  @beardedhumanoid @arianatorpotterhead @shipping-book-keeper @marvelenthusiast10 @i-cannot-do-aesthetics @a-huffleing-lesbean @kaslec @hufflepuffwritess @mouthfacereborn @kodeinekissss @ihavenocontrolofmylifeeither @pinqgchuu @im-a-solanum-lycopersicum @clementines-x @stressy-depressy @sweetinvisiblewriter @absentmindeduniverse @asnowpuff @theofficialgaybestfriend @incorrect-spooktubers @violayaxley @sunshinyyb @colettedelaurel @theoriginalsherlockholmesblog @i-have-a-bad-feeling @jpow345 @haechanstwin @gay-disaster826 @bloodyxheaven @autumnpleaves @froggy-failure @toomanybandstocare @pink1babez @untitled-2424 @sleepdeprivedgurl  @chaseanders  @wolfpack-arts-industries99 @nugnugchick @queenofwordsandnerds @ganjeolhiddaeng @wordy-escapades @writtenfoxscreams @w0odr0ses @coolpetsmcubandit  @crypticcandi @widowsgranger @fantasyprincess101 @wiiltedflowers @aestheticworldd @miniaturefunnytraveldonkey @bucketofdeadroses @uwuplsh @softedits-exe @cel3stialone @sofiapeachyy  @wanderaven92 @eunnieah @marsupialsgotbloodyears @eurydicedior @neonuzumaki @uhhhem​

[bringingglory]

thank you so much for the tags @hanamuri @fullmetalscullyy @megthemighty @nightofnyx8 @tsaritsa !

How many works do you have on AO3? 11! some are botw, one is tdiapt, some are fma, and some are haikyuu! i mostly just write for whatever im interested in at the moment/whichever fandom inspiration strikes for

What's your total AO3 word count? 101,939

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Keep Your Friends Closer But Your Enemies Closer - T: ahhhh my miraculous ladybug fic! ive literally been working on her for FOREVER and i swear to god im going to finish it, i literally know how i want to end it and i know all the events leading up to it. hell, i even have a vague idea of what i want to happen in the middle, i just need to know what order the middle stuff happens in and also i just have to write it. It's an AU where Ladybug and Chat Noir are actually enemies but then Chat Noir accidentally befriends Marinette and then drama etc etc etc.

rain - G: first zelink fic babey! set Pre-Calamity and basically link and zelda get stuck in a cave because of the rain and there's just a lot of quiet pining, etc etc.

Your Friendly Neighborhood Oikawa - T: HAHAHA this was a crack fic inspired by my roommate but then i forgot it was supposed to be a crack fic while writing it and there are accidentally real emotions alkjdfalksdf but anyway it was very fun to write lmao. it was based off this meme and basically it's an AU where Oikawa is Spider-Man and Iwaizumi doesn't know but they still like hang out and stuff. It's a lot of fun, or at least I think it is, haha.

stolen moments - T: first royai fic!!! just a series of "stolen moments" (mic drop) where roy and riza like cant be together but yknow, they try. lots of pining. etc

a secret weapon of sorts - T: 5+1 edwin fic inspired by the Simple People OVA where instead of ed giving winry earrings to get out of trouble, he gives her kisses.

Do you reply to comments, why or why not? Yes! I try really hard to!!! Sometimes I get overwhelmed and I don't respond to comments for a while, but I absolutely do my best to when I remember because I feel like it's my way of saying "thank you" for them reading my fics in the first place, haha.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Uhhhhh, sleepless I guess? But it's more open-ended/not explicitly positive more than anything, though even then I feel like I've got a hint of hope in there. alkjdfhalsdk idk man I just, I can't write *pure* angst, there's gotta be some light, and thus I could never end anything angstily

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? LMAO most of my fics??? I guess??? bc despite being an anxious piece of shit, I am an optimist by heart

Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest one you've ever written? When I was younger! Idk, I guess the Rise of the Brave Frozen Tangled Dragons fandom??? if anyone remembers what that is lmao

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Not exactly? Maybe some weird comments on KYFCBYEC but even then, it wasn't that often.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? No no no no no no no no. I am telling you, I physically cannot write smut. I don't think I actually have the capacity. Absolute fucking kudos to every single smut writer out there bc it truly is an art form capturing that intimacy and emotion and etc, but I literally get flustered from writing mildly detailed kiss scenes. If I ever wrote smut, I would burst into flames on the spot.

Actually lies, I technically wrote smut once, but it was at the request of my roommates and they wanted me to write a crack smut fic of Y/N x our uni's mascot and I wrote that thing in like 3 hours with so many silly memes to keep myself sane (not like other girls, tongues battled for dominance, etc), did not edit it, and because it was so, like, not serious, I was actually able to get through it. But even then, when I wrote "thrusting" I literally had to put my laptop down for 20 minutes.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Nope!

Have you ever had a fic translated? Not yet! Someone commented on Your Friendly Neighborhood Oikawa and asked if they could translate it and I said yes! They haven't gotten around to it yet, but I would love to see it if they do!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not yet!

What’s your all-time favourite ship? Bro it changes day to day. You can't ask me this lmao. The current ship I'm most fixated on is Iwaoi, but I wouldn't say they're my all-time favorite.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I'm not answering this energy. On god, I'm going to finish things. I want to.

What are your writing strengths? uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh very good question lmao. I don't really like thinking about "strengths" in my writing bc who am I to say? akjdslakfjdf idk, instead, I'm just gonna say some things I like/try to do in my writing, which are: conversational prose/having a lot of voice in the narration, I try to add humor wherever I can, and recently I've gotten better and metaphors and describing things bc I picked up writing poetry a year ago!

What are your writing weaknesses? hmmm, a thing I dislike about my writing/the writing process is that I'm slow to publish things and slow to finish things because I'm such a messy first drafter and I also take forever to edit. I would like to uhhhhh get things out faster. Also I tend to repeat myself a lot bc I forget the details of things I write sometimes lmao.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Hmmm, I dunno, I guess I don't have any strong thoughts? The only other language I know is Mandarin but even then, I suck ass at that, so I'll prolly never write dialogue in another language simply bc I like to try to portray things semi-realistically and I don't think I have a good enough grasp on any other language the same way I do in English to produce authentic enough dialogue.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Fablehaven I guess? But Idk I was in fourth grade an didn't even know what fandom was yet. Rise of the Guardians, maybe?

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

AHHHH idk??? maybe hold your hand out in the dark because i really experimented with my writing on that one and im sort of proud of the result, just like the fact that i wanted to try something new and it turned out alright. that or Sunset Wheeling which is an iwaoi fic where they just skate, and like it's prolly one of the most self-indulgent things i've ever written because it's silly and they just. skate. but aljdfalsjd idk i loved it and i churned it out in 6 days and it was a lot of fun lol

ahhh a bunch of people have been tagged already, so sorry if im tagging you again, but for now im just gonna tag @niconiconina @notkorras @thatisadamnfinecupofcoffee @firewoodfigs and anyone else who wants do it!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

tapestry 👑 I

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

Note: So this is my 100% self-indulgent medieval au. It features a lecherous King Steve, a jealous and stern queen, and other courtly drama. I���m not really sure what I’m doing but here we go! I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

The king was having an affair.

It wasn’t a shocking revelation. Nor an unusual one. The queen would pretend she didn’t know and her husband would act too as if she didn’t. As if she did not overhear the wagging tongues all around her. As if she did not notice the knowing smirks.

So long as King Steven maintained outward propriety towards Queen Eleanor, she would abide his adultery. A woman in her station was not ill-prepared for its reality. Princesses were trained for the falsity of their arranged marriages. And as any woman at court, she was a skilled actor. 

Besides, she was reassured by the crown on her brow. She need not be bothered with immoral ladies of the court. Why, when the flame dwindled and the king’s eyes moved along to the next, they were left without their virtue and often wed to second, even third sons. And the queen remained on her throne.

Eleanor was not spiteful. She bore it all with a graceful smile. She did not exile the king’s latest paramour. There was more pride, more dignity, in maintaining one’s decorum. Even as they whispered about her, the queen welcomed the very woman into her sewing circle. 

She smiled as she sat around the tapestry with those who gossiped behind her back. You admired her strength. Envied her because you knew yourself incomparable to her. You’d not be able to stomach such a circumstance. As it was, your position as an unmarried lady left you insecure and uncertain. A second daughter, the convent loomed closer with each unwed year.

And you weren’t meant for court. Not like your sister, Alice. Buoyant and cheerful, she easily secured a betrothal within a year of her debut. She was confined now for her first pregnancy, her husband a duke. Your father was proud of her and thus, even more disappointed in you.

Were it not for the queen’s favour, you would no longer remain at court. Your father would have sent you off to live as a nun. That could still happen. Time was pressing, marriage more so. Like Eleanor, you mused, your worries were greater than some courtly affair. In a week, or a month, the rumours would change but life would be little different.

You sat not far from the queen, a lady between the two of you, another at your other shoulder separated you from Rose, the king’s current mistress. You kept your head down as you worked at the tapestry, weaving the golden thread along the border. You were quiet. A tension radiated from both women.

Rose trilled every now and again; boisterous and boastful as she sent pointed looks at the queen. Eleanor barely noticed, or pretended she didn’t, as she humoured the ladies to her left and right. Lady Diana was Eleanor’s closest friend, a constant companion since her arrival as a foreign princess. Lady Mabel was another favourite, the last of the trio known for her stylish and often imported attire. You were just another set of slippers at court; easily forgotten for those around you. At least you thought you were.

The queen’s voice called your name and you raised your head as if shaken from a trance. Eleanor beamed at you, Diana and Mabel watched as well. You smiled nervously, your mouth dry and your wits strewn around you.

“Your Highness,” You gripped the edge of the tapestry.

“I hope I haven’t disturbed you, my lady, but I was just telling my ladies of the rosettes you sew so well.” She chimed. “I thought, however, it would be more effective if you were to show them.”

“My rosettes?” You wondered.

“Well, I had the fanciful idea that we might include some in the field,” She waved to the centre of the tapestry, “Little one’s you see. It would add character to the scene, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I think so.” You answered. “Do you have cloth, your highness?”

“A little. It would be entirely experimental but it would give us a task for our next circle,” Eleanour reach down to the sewing box by her skirts and pulled out a small plume of red silk. “Would you show the ladies, then?”

“Certainly,” You replied, “Where should I place it?”

“Just there, along the grass,” She pointed to the green embroidery meant to reflect the resplendent fields of the countryside. “Ladies,” The queen stood all at once and her edge sagged before her. “Gather round. You should all learn how to make a beautiful rosette.”

The women rose with a rush of skirt as the tapestry was folded so that you could reach its middle. Diana and Mabel held it aloft as the other ladies circled you. The queen stood over your shoulder as you fumbled with the silk and thread. You had altered a few bodices for the queen, your skill with the needle your only. You suspected it was also the only reason for her amity.

You placed your needle between your lips and held it there as you began to twist the fabric. Your hands shook but your work was adequate. The whispers around you stirred your nerves. A familiar voice, one which had rarely quieted throughout the sessions, cut through.

“Like I don’t know how to make a rosette,” Rose scoffed. “What are we children?”

“Observe,” The queen spoke up. “How she twists it so. We want our flowers to be perfect.” She chided. “We cannot waste anymore hours resewing frayed edges.”

Rose huffed. The ladies none-so-subtly glanced between queen and mistress. The week before, Rose spent much of the circle tittering with her lady friends and the next day, the Queen had revealed her portion of the tapestry to have been unlaced and the circle set to correcting her errors. A tame but pointed remonstrance.

You positioned the silk against the tapestry and began to wind it round and round. It soon resembled a flower and you held it firm with one hand as you reached for your needle. Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door and it opened without pause. 

The ladies turned to look at the disturbance. The king entered with several of his men. It was not unusual for him to do so. He visited his queen if only to appease her. Public shows of attention assuaged the public and circumvented courtly gossip. You held the tapestry tightly as your needle hovered above the unfinished rosette.

“My queen,” Steven boomed. “Our hunt was short today.”

“My king,” Eleanor returned. “We were just in the middle of a lesson.”

“A lesson?” He tilted his head. “I had it in my mind that you ladies were well versed in the needle.”

“We are, but we would add to our repertoire.” She chided as he neared. 

He took her hand courteously and kissed it. Rose bristled from the other side of the crescent of women. The king glanced at his mistress as he stood straight, a small curve of his lips as he looked around the chamber. Eleanor was not unaware of his wandering eye.

“Would you allow us to finish with our activity, my king?” Eleanor’s long nose flared. 

“Would it trouble you to allow my men to observe? Perhaps we could learn to darn our own stockings?”

“Whatever you wish, dear husband,” She said. “My lady,” She turned to you as the men shared bemused looks. “If you would continue.”

“Your highness.” You bowed your head. “If I may offer advice at the same time?”

“Yes, yes, certainly. You are the instructor, my lady.” Eleanor was close, almost at your shoulder.

“When I begin my rosette, I keep the twist looser around the outside and wind tighter as I near the middle,” As you spoke, you sensed movement. The king stood at your other shoulder. He was close. “So we curl it like this,” You made your rosette, “Then we sew it in place like so.”

You steadied your hand as you poked the needle in and out. When you finished, you snapped the thread with your finger and replaced your needle between your lips as you spoke around it. “Then, along the looser edges you can pull them just a little,” You pressed the fabric with your thumb, “So that they are more petal-like.”

Content with your work, you removed the needle from your mouth and bowed your head. The queen pulled the tapestry close and marveled at the rosette. “You see, husband,” She held it across to the king as you were trapped between them. “Isn’t her work most delicate?”

“It is,” He mused as he touched the rosette. “She has a good hand. Were she a man, I am certain she’d wield a sword just as deftly? Wouldn’t you, lady…”

Eleanor supplied your name as you avoided his gaze. The king had never looked at you before, that much you knew. Not since your introduction at court and that was entirely forgettable. He repeated your name and waited for your answer.

“With the same hours spent with a blade as a needle, I am certain I would,” You returned meekly. “Your highness.”

He laughed and pulled his hand away from the tapestry. “Unfortunately, I do not think my men would be so able to pick up a needle? Isn’t that so, my lords?”

The men chuckled in turn and the ladies mimicked them. You couldn’t muster a fake trill of your own and so you looked around the chamber at the pandering nobility. Rose’s pale blue eyes narrowed at you as you met them then returned to her usual fixation on the king. 

He was still beside you. You glanced up at Eleanor as Mabel leaned close to look at the rosette then you turned to the king. Shy and unsure. You were surprised to find him watching you. You smiled and bowed your head again. He returned the smile, starring a moment longer, before he turned away.

“Alas, my queen, we did not come for a sewing lesson,” Steven announced. “We would only remind you of the evening’s occasion.”

“Do not fret, husband, my ladies would be remiss to forget a banquet. Our dancing shoes are not well worn enough.” Eleanor preened. “We should only hope your lords have practiced.”

“Most emphatically,” Steven assured as he stepped away. His shoulder brushed against your sleeve as he did. “We are most eager to show you and your ladies.”

👑

Rose glowed in a pink gown cut with ivory silk. The colour was as delicate as her namesake. The cut of the bodice drew every eye in the room though it was only meant to attract one. Men and women alike admired her beauty; out of attraction or jealousy. You were guilty of the latter as your own dress seemed plain next to hers. 

You played with your skirt nervously as you stood along the wall. The evening’s meal had been rowdy. Dramatic, even. You sat quietly among the rabble, as you were want to do, as your father so despised. Why if you weren’t so forgettable, you’d have a husband by now. You watched the subtle cues, the obvious looks, the secretive lips.

Queen Eleanor wavered once. Her green eyes narrowed as they followed her husband’s across the large hall. Rose pretended not to notice as the king looked to her, but everyone noticed. Eleanor’s lips drew into a straight line but she quickly recovered her repose. Her sweet smile a mask over her discontent. The king was unbothered by, if not ignorant to, her ire.

You sat with the other ladies. Rose was not far from you. She sat with Joan who was always eager to encourage her. Mary and Beatrice were often near as well. They chattered over their plates and giggled as Rose sent lurid grins across to the king. The lords and ladies stirred in anticipation along the tables.

When the dinner ended, the trestles were cleared and pushed aside to clear the floor. The lords and ladies paired up and you kept to the edge of the room. You were a clumsy dancer and easily overlooked. You’d rather watch than make a fool of yourself.

As was custom, the king and queen danced together for several songs. Rose was partnered with the king’s childhood friend, Lord James Barnes, a placeholder until the first switch. The queen next took the hand of the visiting ambassador, Corwin, and the king was entirely obvious in his next choice as he spun his covert lover around the room.

You watched the rush of silk and satin; the tailored seams and polished boots. You looked down at your own attire. The dark shade of blue did nothing for your complexion and the cut was modest; maybe too modest. Perhaps you were better off in the convent. 

You reached up to adjust your hood as you looked across the room. Rose’s laugh trilled along the rafters as the king turned her again and the queen didn’t flinch as she continued her step with the ambassador. If your father was here, he’d drag you out and find you a suitor himself. But he was away with your sister, awaiting the birth of a grandchild, and you were left to your solitary.

You tapped your toe to the stringy tune. You pressed your hands together before your skirts and watched the streaks of colours around the hall. The dancers paused only to drink and with each gulp, their steps grew heavier. And soon, the crowd would thin, little by little, as the guests slipped away to their secret rendezvous.

As you watched a shadow flicker along the wall, you were startled by another broader shadow looming over you. Your eyes flicked to the figure and you stuttered in surprise and embarrassment. You bent your knee and your head as you greeted the king.

“Y-your highness,” You weren’t certain he could hear you above the din.

“My lady,” He greeted. “I espied you along the wall and am beholden to ask why you do not dance?”

“Dance? I fear, your highness, I am not one for it. My feet or untrained and unwieldy.” You looked up at him than lowered your lashes shyly. Was it proper to look directly at a king?

“That is no reason to forego such merriment.” He scolded. “Perhaps it is truly that you lack a partner?”

“And I should not blame them for shying away from my ungainly feet, your highness. I’ve stomped them all away, you see?”

“Not all, I should think.” He turned his palm out to you. “Would I be remiss to request a pavan, my lady? I’ve faced worse than a clumsy partner.”

You looked up at him, stunned. He was amused by the slight part of your lips. Your eyes skittered from him and searched the room. Eleanor partnered Lord Barnes and her eyes were curious as she noticed her husband before you. Rose had yet to find another partner though she seemed little interested in the entertainment as she glared at the king’s back.

“I don’t...I mean, your highness…”

“I could declare it treason for you to refuse, my lady,” Your eyes rounded and he grinned. “I jape.” He softened his voice. “But I should like you to accept…” He leaned in. “A king can face any foe by his own wounded pride.”

You swallowed and wiped the shock from your face. You likely looked ridiculous already. You nodded before you found your voice again. “Yes, your highness, I would be pleased to accept your offer.”

He sighed as if he was relieved. You struggled to keep a smile on your lips. There was something about him, about the way he spoke, the way he acted. He was acting. He was calculating and moving the pawns across the board, but for what end You couldn’t guess.

You took his hand and he bowed to you. You curtsied and he led you away from the wall. If your father could see this, he might just have choked. Not that it was anything more than a dance. A ploy by the king to play the whims of his latest amour, you were certain.

When you were in the middle of the hall, overly aware of the eyes watching you, he turned to you. Courtly, graceful, confident. You were a mouse next to him as you mirrored him in your stance.

As he began to lead you, you peered around the room. They really were watching. Rose had her ladies almost fanning her in her distress but the queen had resumed her attention on Lord Barnes.

You stumbled as your slipper came down on the king's boot and you looked back to him. He was watching you too. You apologized for your misstep and made another. He chuckled.

"Are you new at court, lady?" He asked.

"No, no," You were almost amused and certainly humbled by the question. How insignificant you were. "I've served your queen for two years, perhaps more."

His brow twitched but he held his composure. "My apologies. It is a large and hectic court."

"Apologies are not owed, your highness. You've your men and the queen her ladies. That is the order of court."

"Ah," He considered your words. "Your father, perhaps a brother, presides among my men?"

"My father. I haven't any brothers." You supplied and caught yourself before you could stomp him again. "Willis, Earl of Malford."

"Malford?" He thought for a moment. "Oh, I do recall he is absent for his daughter's confinement…" His eyes strayed below yours and you felt an odd heat spread over you. "You do not look of the condition, my lady."

"My sister," You said gaily.

He laughed at his own joke as he continued to dance around you. It was like a game, a chase you realised, and you dared to think you might be within his aim. The thought terrified you.

"And you? Have you come to court for betrothal?"

"You did not know my name before the queen mentioned it, so how should you know I am not already wed?"

"A dutiful wife never mentions their father before their husband." He intoned. "And you strike me as a most dutiful lady."

"Your highness," You accepted. 

You held your tongue, the want to recant his accusation but it was true. You stayed within the lines, measured yourself so precisely to fit. It kept you safe. It kept your father's temper. A scandal would be far worse than your current obscurity.

"You don't belong at court, my lady," He said. "You are too modest, too clever. It is all too confining for you."

"Is it?" You asked breathily.

"I see it. You try to withhold it as you do your words, but I see it." He slowed as the music began to slow. "I see it and it intrigues me very much."

The tune began to change and the king stilled you. Your skirts spun around your legs as he held your hand aloft. He bent to kiss it. You watched him in dismay. He rose and smiled most gallantly.

"Forgive me but I must return to my queen," He announced. "She is most needful of my affections."

"Your highness." You curtsied and he bowed again.

The whole room watched as Steven left you in the midst of the floor. As he strode to his queen and swept her away from her partner. Courteous, formal, graceful. A loyal king. 

And then the guests looked to Rose. Her face as colourful as her name would suggest. Her glare followed the queen and then, slowly, found you. She frowned and hissed under her breath to her companions.

Your thoughts echoed the confused whispers that rose around you. You turned and wove between the dancing bodies until you reached the wall. You looked around as you leaned against the wall. For a moment, your eyes met the king's, and you quickly averted them.

Surely, he wasn't truly looking at you. He couldn't be. You were but a part of his ruse. His paramour was growing too pompous and he sought to remand her. You were another piece on the board.

[et-lesailes]

before and after // part one

PART TWO

pairing: steve rogers x agent!reader

word count: 2940

summary: you are an agent and part of project rebirth, and have taken an interest in the man picked for the project-- steve rogers himself. you can’t help but be drawn to him both before and after he takes the serum that makes him become the honored captain america, but it is only after that you finally get to show just how drawn to him you really are.

themes: virgin!steve, seductress!reader lmao. smut to come in the next part ~

taglist: @viarogers , @evanstush , @chibi-crazy , @chalamet-evans , @world-of-losers , @songforhema, @sebabestianstan101 , @tanyam93 , @bval-1, @wonderwinchester , @little-miss-exo, @poerebel , @pining-and-tired , @gogomez-509 , @patzammit, @a-distantdreamer, @malthestorytellerblog, @rainbowkisses31, @jbug491writinghelp, @quaiderade, @melannie77, @gigistorm, @lille-kattunge

note: so like this was only supposed to be one part but i got way too fuckin rambley so here we are. tbh i don’t even know if this is interesting or well written at all but it’s an idea i randomly had muse for and when i get these strong bursts of muse i feel like i don’t write as well for some reason?? i’m not sure?? so let me know what you think :)

JULY 15TH, 1943

A devious twinkle lights up your eyes as you look upon the group of new men just recently enlisted, remaining hidden from their view for now behind a truck while they are spread out across the grass doing push-ups as Colonel Phillips yells at them to pick up the pace. You are intrigued by one figure in particular, and that is the small, scrawny body of Steven Grant Rogers, a young and sickly man recruited by Dr. Erskine. You are aware of the super soldier experiment the doctor has in mind, and while the Colonel seems to be disgusted and in disbelief over the addition of the frail member, you have other thoughts. 

You watch as he struggles to even lift himself up on the ground, sweaty blond hair a mess around his thin face. Still, he persists. He refuses to give up it seems, and you feel as though you already understand why Erskine wanted him. 

“What a pathetic little guy,” the male beside you comments, your hand currently holding his arm, as usual. Sergeant Joseph Brooks is a rather cocky, loudmouthed, and brazen soldier, strong and skilled at what he does yet known to have aggressive tendencies. He is also your boyfriend despite all of this, and in your own odd way, you love him. You suppose you’re a little… crazy, when it comes to relationships. You like to feel thrilled and excited, you find amusement in even the most toxic of men, and several friends have expressed concern in the past. Why do you feel such an adrenaline rush from arguing at the top of your voice, throwing things around the room only to be manhandled into an angry , heated, but amazing fuck afterwards? Well, perhaps the last part answers that question itself. 

“He’s adorable,” you coo softly, and your boyfriend blinks before laughing. “Mm. That’s an even worse thing to say about a man, darling. You’re cold. Not that he really passes as a man....” You arch an eyebrow as you look up at him, tilting your head curiously. “What constitutes a man then, Joe?” He smirks and turns to face you more properly, gripping your hips and jerking you powerfully to his body. “Someone with muscle. Someone who can fight to protect their girl, then can take her as his own right after.” His voice is a low growl sending shivers down your spine, and you can’t help yourself as you grab the collar of his uniform, pulling him down for a rough and ardent kiss. 

“Grenade!” You hear the sharp voice of Colonel Phillips cutting through the field, and your kiss is broken. Joe seems rather alarmed and alert, but you nonchalantly turn your head towards the commotion, watching as the men scatter away. Only one remains, and he throws his flimsy body at the weapon, curled up on top of it as he closes his eyes tight. “Get away!” he yells at the top of his lungs, moving his arm in a swift motion. “Get back!” You cannot help but stare, awe alighting your impressed gaze as you watch the courageous and sacrificial act despite knowing very well that the weapon is not real. You then look towards the Colonel and Dr. Erskine who are watching as well, noting that even the Colonel himself looks affected for once. 

“And how exactly can a man fight a grenade?” you slowly whisper into your boyfriend’s ear before pulling back from him, approaching the scene of “attack”. “It’s a fake, darling,” you call out in a light and silky voice, and you can already feel all eyes on you. Being a woman in an army camp full of testosterone, this is a basic reaction as it is, but even you can say with confidence that you are attractive, and you take great pride in it. “Colonel Phillips here just loves to play tricks, don’t you?” You look towards the old man innocently, even batting your eyelashes, and he scoffs fondly. He does not take bullshit, that’s for sure, but he’s come to see you as a daughter figure. “Maybe you can motivate these slackers to do better.” He remarks, and you giggle lightly. “Line up, boys,” you demand with a simple call, and as expected, they all flock to you. Standing in a line, gazing at you in awe, Steve Rogers right in the center. Standing in between the big and burly men, he looks even smaller than he already did before, if that is even possible. Your eyes are fixated on his blue ones, watching him stare back with a slightly flustered expression, though remaining standing straight and dignified. 

“What’s a pretty little lady like you doing at a place like this?” one of the men calls, and you turn your head to look at him as a few snicker around him. “First of all, you can refer to me as Agent Y/L/N.” Your voice is suddenly sharp and commanding, and he seems to be surprised. “I supervise all operations within this division.” You step closer to him and tilt your head, letting your eyes practically pierce through his as you whisper, “And I look pretty doing it.” He barely gulps and you wonder if this man is all talk and no game-- he seems overwhelmed to simply be standing in a five foot radius of a woman. Smirking, you step back to look at them all, eyebrow raised. “I’m looking forward to working with you men, so you better train hard and try not to get booted. If you can’t handle it, then don’t waste our time, just leave.” You start walking up the line before pausing at Steve, now able to inspect him closer. “And do not,” you say, directed towards everyone as you look to each side of the line before keeping your eyes on him, “think that this unit is all about who has the bigger…” you pause as you trail off, eyes purposefully moving down towards Steve’s crotch before looking to everyone again continuing nonchalantly, “muscles.” You smirk as you see the red on Steve’s cheeks, then glance back at Dr. Erskine as you continue talking to them. “Being a good soldier is important, yes, but so is being a good man.” He flashes a small smile at you, nodding his head in approval. Still, your devious brain has you look at Steve again, enjoying making him sweat a little. You lean in, letting your lips barely brush against his ear as you whisper, “The way you handled that grenade was impressive, Rogers.” You allow him to know that you’re well aware of his name, figuring it might be a bit of a confidence boost for the guy. “I look forward to see how you handle the rest of this training… and me.” You pull back and his pacific eyes are wide, but he is still obediently staring straight ahead. “Yes, Agent Y/L/N,” he speaks as steadily as he can, and as you subtly let your eyes drift down, you smirk as you see the tent in his pants. 

“Well,” you abruptly announce, standing back again nonchalantly. “Continue on, men, and please try not to make Colonel Phillips get a sore throat over having to raise his voice so much.” You look towards the man with a playful smirk before turning around, swinging your hips as you make your way back to your boyfriend. You know all eyes are still on you, and you love it. He keeps a territorial hold around you, looking at all of them with a smug grin clearly to show off that he’s the one who has the pleasure of calling you his, and that no one else will take that from him. The jealous looks in return are amusing, but you only care about Steve’s as you look at him over your shoulder while Joe takes you away, giving him a coy wink. 

Colonel Phillips sighs as he looks at his men all watching you leave, some practically drooling. “That’s it. Five minute break, go get your damn heads out of the gutter. If you’re not back here at 16:00 sharp, don’t bother to come back at all.” 

_______

“Did you guys see that? She winked at me! Man, how lucky am I?”

Steve frowns slightly as he listens to Hodges brag, barely wrinkling his nose. He’s a bit confused. He’s almost positive you were winking at him, but that makes absolutely no sense. A girl has barely even looked at him with both eyes open, why would he of all people get the flirtatious gesture of one?  

Especially from someone like you. Not only do you have a boyfriend, but you’re the most beautiful and intriguing woman he’s ever seen. He never thought he would be interested in someone who seemed so mischievous, so bold. Like the other recruits, he’s known of you for a while now, even if you hadn’t formally introduced yourself until that day. The men had seen your face around, and they had instantly fallen in love with it. Steve is no exception. He’s felt drawn to you from the beginning, and he absolutely hates that his mind goes to quite vulgar places when he thinks of you, because he never wanted to be that type of man. For God’s sake, he’s never even kissed anyone before. He sighs as he looks away, running his fingers through his hair.

“What’s wrong, Rogers?” another recruit remarks, grinning. “Are you jealous? Aw, you couldn’t have thought you had a chance with her anyways, right?” Hodges joins in as he laughs in amusement, arching an eyebrow. “Have you even been with a woman before? Wouldn't they just ... break you? Especially a woman like that, oh I bet she’s a naughty little thing in the bedroom. Steve, buddy, you’d barely last.”

“The things I’d do to her,” another one speaks up with a playfully desperate groan before Steve can even reply. “That pretty little body is practically begging for attention, and I’d love to give it to her. God, I’d give anything just to at least see her naked, did you see her wiggle that ass for us when she left? I just want to fuck it off.” Steve frowns deeper, the vulgar talk bothering him even though he’s thought about such an action several times, even within the mere few minutes of having met you for the first time. He can’t help but remember the way you talked to him about handling you…..

He reddens. He’s hard again. ‘What is wrong with me?’ he thinks, trying to casually turn away from the others; they are thankfully still in the middle of talking about how much they’d like to fuck you to notice. He sighs deeply, taking a swig of water before leaving the tent, trying to think of anything else. He needs his focus for the next few hours, and the thought of your naked body intertwined with his is, for obvious reasons, only serving as a distraction. 

_______

AUGUST 3RD, 1943

“I got beat up in that alley.” Steve says to you, his eyes focused out the window of the car. “And that parking lot. And behind that diner.” You listen to him in slight amusement, but mostly intrigue. 

It’s been a few days now that you’ve gotten to know him, having witnessed his training and having had a couple of discussions about Project Rebirth. It is now finally the big day, and you have to admit you’re a little nervous. Steve, on the other hand, seems rather unfazed, as if he’s in any regular car ride going to any regular appointment. 

“Seems like you have a lot of fond memories here,” you joke, looking to him with a slightly raised brow. Humming, you also glance out the window. “Ever have any dates in that diner?” He blinks and scoffs, looking to you somewhat in disbelief. “Of course not. In fact, this is the longest conversation I’ve ever even had with a woman, let alone go on a date with one.” You chuckle softly, though for some reason, you like this. It is sometimes frustrating to you how obsessed men are with dating and sex, how they start so early. “What’s stopping you?” you ask, and he looks to you as if it’s obvious. “Uh, the fact that I don’t have any girls to go on a date with?” He looks down, adding with a bitter chuckle, “Women aren’t exactly lining up to dance with the guy they might step on.”

The car pulls up to the antique store and you hum thoughtfully. “I’d go on a date with you.” You tell him, suddenly looking at him seriously. Lightly placing a hand on his thigh, you add in a soft murmur, “And I’d definitely dance with you.”

He’s left in shock as you get out of the car, sitting there for a few seconds before realizing he needs to get out too, quickly trying to compose himself as he hastily opens the car door. 

_______

DECEMBER 7TH, 1943

You smile happily as you take a sip of your drink at your table in the bar, overhearing some soldiers nearby go on about Steve’s courageous battle with HYDRA. It’s been over four months now that Project Rebirth succeeded, and Steve, now known as Captain America to the general public, has been doing great. He is a true super soldier, and the same dedicated, selfless gentleman you had met months ago. 

“The hell are you smiling about?” a naturally rough voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and you look up to Joe coming back to the table barely biting your lip. “Nothing, darling.” You glance towards the beer in his hand. “Is another drink a good idea? You’ve already had a lot…” You know how the man gets when he’s drunk, and to be quite honest, you fear it. “I can handle it.” He says with a scoff, sliding into the seat across from you. “And once I’m done,” he mutters, reaching under the table to take a firm hold of your thigh, “I’m going to be craving something else, so you better make sure that sweet little body is ready for me.” 

In the past, this would elicit a little giggle and “yes sir” from your naughty little lips, but now, you find yourself losing interest each day. It’s not uncommon for you to feel bored with a boyfriend, but you’re also beginning to realize you’re a bit tired of the type of men you’ve been seeing. You’re about to respond to him when you suddenly notice a familiar strong and handsome figure entering the bar. You stare as you admire Steve in his army uniform, marveling at the way it frames his broad shoulders and gives him such an air of authority. “I’ll be right back,” you excuse yourself, not even caring how obvious you were being. Scooting out of the seat and quickly checking yourself, making sure the red dress you wore was still clinging onto your body just right, you made your way over to the man who was approaching the bar. “Hi there, Steve,” you purr, corner of your lips tugging upwards. “Here to celebrate after bringing down the latest HYDRA factory, I imagine?” He turns to look at you and immediately flashes you a charming smile, seeming genuinely happy to see you. “Of course. Even if I wasn’t in the mood, the boys expect rounds on me,” he jokes, and you notice the way his pacific hues “subtly” take in your appearance. “And why wouldn’t you be in the mood? You do so much for this country, Captain, you deserve to celebrate sometimes too...” you murmur with a natural seductive hint to your voice, unable to help yourself. How could you not? You had already thought he was damn adorable back in his pre-serum days, and now… now he is practically a work of art. You can tell that something in his eyes changed upon being called Captain, and while he should technically be used to it, it is clear you had meant it in a different connotation. 

You aren’t sure how experienced he may be now. The two of you have not been able to talk as much as before due to his constant missions, and even if you had been able to, you probably would not exactly be chatting about a body count. You know he has girls lined up, and for obvious reasons-- but if he’s ever actually slept with them, you are unsure of. You doubt it. He still seems like the same Steve underneath all the muscle, though you do remember having seen him making out with some blonde private working for Howard Stark. Maybe he’s not as innocent as he looks…

“Celebrate, hm?” he says, and his deep voice brings you back to reality-- a very welcoming one, at that. “Well, you know, since the serum I can’t get drunk. So to be honest, being at the bar isn’t much of a... proper celebration.” He admits with a low chuckle, and you barely grin deviously. “Oh, yeah? Are you saying you’re looking for a proper celebration…?” you ask innocently, and he barely bites on his lip. You look back towards Joe, and thankfully, he’s occupied talking with some other sergeant friends. Returning your gaze to Steve, you hum softly. “How about this, Captain,” you murmur as you stand even closer to him, “if you really want to celebrate, meet me in the bathroom in five minutes.” You run your fingers over his arm slowly, looking up into his eyes and barely smirking upon seeing the simultaneous desperation, excitement, and conflict in his features. “And if you don’t… well, I know how to take a hint, darling, so you don’t have to worry.” You give him a wink before turning around, practically strutting off to the bathroom as you make sure to wiggle your butt and give him a good show.

[wongxiexie]

False pretenses

Pairing: Kim Jongdae (Chen) x Reader ft. Kim Minseok Genre: Angst, Historical!AU Word Count: 8.372 words Warnings: Death, Violence Note: The photo’s from Chen’s website. I deleted the chapters I uploaded here and decided to stick everything into a finished one shot instead. HAHA Idk why but this fic has caused me great stress because of how unorganized I was and how loose I think everything is hahaha. Tried my best to fix it tho, hope you enjoy! 🌸🌸

A rough hand holds your chin and tilts your face to the side, exposing the blooming dark bruise on your left cheek and causing it to sting.

“Your insolence will be your downfall,” Minseok says as he clicks his tongue, blatantly expressing his disapproval towards your misdemeanor.

“Your Majesty,” you stare at him as you remove his hand lightly, “if you may.”

He releases your face but his sharp eyes stay rooted to yours. “See? Insolent.”

The warm golden light from outside shines through the open window and Minseok turns to soak in it, his face blank as he loops his arms behind him.

To an outsider, the scene might look like a peaceful one but that can’t be further from the truth. The tension is palpable as everyone inside the quarters await for his next words and after what felt like hours, Minseok waves his right arm to dismiss all the servants present.

Soft steps quickly pad towards the doorway as the sock-clad hand-maids rush to flee the room.

“If I may ask,” you start as you move to stand beside him. “Did something unfortunate happen before I moved here?”

You relish the soft touch of the wind on your face and continue, “I have only been here for a few months, but I have noticed how terrified and on edge the people seem to be.”

Glancing at him, you think you see a slight crease form between his brows, but it’s gone before you can dwell on it.

In response, he angles his face to you and lets a smirk fall on his lips. “I think you are missing the point here...”

“You have only been here for a few months, but your impudence is unlike any other I have witnessed before.” He shifts slightly towards you and raises a brow, “it is rather unbecoming, Princess.”

Heat crawls up your neck upon embarrassment from his words and you look down to break eye contact. Subconsciously, your hand goes up to touch the bruise on your face.

It wasn’t an easy task for you to get your bearings in Silla. Having grown from an entirely different kingdom, there were customs and practices you’ve grown habitual to that were not, in any way, acceptable in your new home.

With the recent happenings in Baekje the year prior because of the invasion, you were forced to go to Silla to negotiate and appeal for the monarchy to protect your people. So many were killed when your kingdom was attacked, but you know you had to protect those that were left. That meant setting aside any of your dreams, wants and needs.

For a princess like you, you know your personal desires do not matter. Nothing matters except for the safety of the remaining people of your kingdom. It was your ultimate duty to protect your people, after all, first and foremost.

That meant hours of working to know the practices and culture of your new home, and appealing to the royal family.

Back in your hometown, you were allowed to mingle with the commoners. In fact, those of royal descent were encouraged to do so to be able to foster strong and genuine unity among the residents under your jurisdiction.

That way, it was easier to implement laws and prevent crimes. In your opinion, it was also delightful to live in harmonious relationship with the people, not just for yourself, but for political reasons as well.

With that system in place in Baekje, there were never any successful attempts at overthrowing the royal family because the people were with the heads of the kingdom.

Which was why you were caught off-guard when the King himself rose from his throne and struck your face when you softly suggested asking the residents of Silla about their living conditions under the current monarchy.

The King and his magistrates were all in shock of your apparently preposterous proposal that there came a chorus of audible gasps around the hall as soon as you uttered those words.

Next thing you know, you were down on the ground, with your left cheek throbbing in pain.

You didn’t know how to react to what happened. You couldn’t understand the murmurs around you, and just barely registered your lady in waiting assisting you by the arm and leading you towards the Prince’s chambers.

You’ve only somewhat processed what happened when you arrived in Minseok’s room and he grabbed your chin.

“I sincerely apologize for what I propositioned in the congregation earlier,” you say, looking abashed, “I honestly had no idea that it was frowned upon here in Silla.”

“Well, I am sure by now you understand that we royals do not wish to stain our hands in dealing with commoners,” the Prince comments in obvious fashion.

Your head snap towards his direction, the disbelief apparent on your face as you never knew Silla to be as disconnected to their people as they are showing right now.

“But, Your Highness, they are your people!” comes your abrupt and almost offended response.

The next second, all you can see is Minseok’s palm near your face. 

You are too stunned about the sudden movement that you only start breathing again after realizing he didn’t hit you.

“You see, Princess,” Minseok says your title so condescendingly that it makes goosebumps erupt on your skin. The hand that once posed to hit you move to caress your cheek in a false comforting manner instead.

“May I remind you that even if you were of high stature in Baekje, you are nobody here if not for my family’s deal with your remaining kin.”

He grabs your shoulders and briskly turns you to look outside, “You see those people?” he says as he guides you to look at passing citizens. “They know nothing about you except for the fact that you failed to protect your kingdom.”

A shiver runs down your spine at Minseok’s proximity and you can feel his breath on your neck with how he is standing behind you. But more than anything, the harsh reminder of the reality of your failure causes pain to bloom in your chest.

Steeling yourself to not let the Prince see your watery eyes, you try to excuse yourself from his presence.

You open your mouth but fail to produce any sound as images of your people being killed flash through your mind. Tears start to form on your eyes, but you bite your lower lip to prevent any sobs from escaping.

Minseok immediately picks up on the shudder in your breath and turns you gently to face him.

“Do not worry, my future Queen,” he says mockingly as he wipes the few stray tears on your cheeks.

He kisses your forehead and looks at you, “I will make sure you will be happy here.”

You swear you have never seen eyes more blank than Minseok has when he smiles at you.

...

Outside, hiding in the shadows, stands a young man with gentle features bearing witness to the exchange. He balls his hands into fists and descends down the alley away from the palace.

——

The day was a serene one, what with the wind gently rustling the leaves in the landscape that surround you. A vibrant blue hovers over you, littered with enough scattered clouds that allow just the right amount of sunlight to grace your skin.

‘What a pleasant day,’ you note… if not for the boisterous laughter coming from the men standing in the archery range.

If there is one thing you are thankful for the etiquette classes you’ve attended since you can remember, it would be the skill you acquired in schooling your features into a neutral look to prevent unsightly expressions from overtaking your face.

You want to frown so bad at the things happening around you.

Sitting as still as a rock, you keep your blank face pointed straight towards the loud men supposed to be of some of the highest blood lines.

Inside, you’re wondering how those men were treated growing up.

Tinkling giggles snap you out of your momentary stupor and you realize you have just unknowingly spaced out. You turn towards the noblewomen watching and follow their gazes fixated on the practicing men.

Years of strict etiquette classes couldn’t have prevented the frown that immediately settles on your face upon seeing the ruckus on the field.

A servant is down on the floor clutching his stomach. The noblemen are obviously ganging up on the smaller man and you grimace when you see the tallest one, Lord Chanyeol from House Park, land a rather strong kick towards the man’s side.

You whip your head to look at the Prince beside you, awaiting any orders you’re sure he would bark out to stop the servant from getting beaten up, but the air is almost knocked out from your lungs when you see him sitting at ease, an amused smirk dancing on his lips.

Indignation rises from within you and you walk determinedly towards the men.

When you are within earshot, you stop and clear your throat. Keeping your chin up, you look at the three as they stop their assault.

“My lords,” you say with a surprisingly stable voice.

The youngest was the first to turn to you. Lord Sehun from House Oh. How can you forget when his family is easily one of the most powerful and most ruthless in Silla?

He stands up straight and stares you down, his height serving as an intimidation on its own as he lets an inscrutable expression fall on his face. After a few seconds of looking at you, he bows and offers his hand. Placing yours on his, you have to suppress the shiver that goes down your spine the moment his warm lips touch the back of your hand.

As if possible, he towers even more over you as he straightens back up.

“Princess [Y/N],” you look at the voice that addressed you and you try to smile at him -- Lord Jongin, one of the Prince’s closest cousins. You have met him once when you just arrived in Silla. He seemed kind back then, which made you realize first impressions really were often incorrect since you can never erase from your mind the image of him beheading one of his poor servants who tried to steal bread for his famished daughter.

He greets you as Sehun did, and Chanyeol follows after.

The three stand tall in front of you, shoulders squared and backs straight in what is supposed to be a posture of giving proper respect to those of royal blood, but it only serves to remind you of how low they actually think of you behind the formalities they impose when you face them.

The action rather intimidates you, but you have to steel your nerves for the servant on the ground who is already coughing up blood.

“I was watching you,” you clear your throat, “and I couldn’t help but be curious.”

“Pray tell, may you, what did the lowly servant do to warrant the punishment you have just given him?” you almost blanch at the horrible thing that left your mouth, but you know you have to appeal to their good side.

A glimmer of approval seems to appear in the eyes of Chanyeol and Sehun, but Jongin outright smirks at your agreeable countenance.

Chanyeol toes the head of the servant and angles it towards you. “This dimwitted lowlife thought he could waste our time with his slow services.”

“And as if that is not foolish enough, he even stepped on my foot,” Sehun spat.

Your hands involuntarily ball into fists at their shallow reasons and you almost hit Chanyeol’s face if only it doesn’t spell death for you if you actually pushed through. Good thing your hands are hidden under the sleeves of your hanbok.

“I see,” you glance at the beaten man on the floor. “Let’s not waste our energy on a servant. Please continue on with your training, we’ll see to it that he gets what he deserves.”

You wave two of your personal guards over and instruct them to take the servant away. As discreetly as you can, you whisper to the one closest to you to take care of the beaten man.

When the servant is dragged away, you turn towards the noblemen and bid them luck and safety with their archery.

Going back to your place beside Minseok, you lock eyes with him and you almost stop. He is looking at you as if he knows exactly what you did, a cold and calculating glimmer present in his eyes.

“Fraternizing with the royalty, aren’t you?” he follows you with his gaze until you settle on your seat. “Make sure you do not get caught when you do something foolish.”

You breathe deeply to calm your racing heart, but it almost immediately picks up speed with what he says next. “You would not want your people to suffer because of your idiocy, would you?”

He fixes you with another piercing stare and all you can do is look at him and nod.

In a rare burst of confidence, you place your right hand above his left, “I would not do anything against your will, or the will of Silla, my Prince.”

His expression remains unreadable as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“I have grown quite fond of you, Princess,” Minseok is already looking straight ahead as he speaks. It would be an understatement to say you are surprised by his words, but you know better than to relax around him. You almost want to, but he continues speaking.

“…and I would not want you to find out what happens to those who go behind my back.”

——

That night, you sneak out of your room, disguised as a commoner and wearing your lady-in-waiting’s clothes. You perfectly know you cannot trust anyone in Silla, but if you are to name exceptions, they would be your two personal guards and your personal servant.

Yerim is a young woman assigned to you when you arrived at the palace. She just recently became an adult but already has the sense of responsibility and discipline as that of the older servants. She helps you dress in her clothes and walks with you to the stables where you were informed you could find the man from earlier that day.

A gasp fights its way out of your mouth when you see the state he is in.

Seated on the ground with a mere thin stack of hay acting as a cushion for him, you can see his face bloodied and bruised badly to the point where he seems like he just got out of a fight.

You kneel in front of him and grasp his face gently. Slowly bringing your right hand to his face, it feels like cold water was doused over you when he flinches from your touch.

He thought you were going to hit him…

A grim realization washes over you. You claim to abhor the apathy of the royal family, but in the end, are you any different than them? It has almost been a year since you arrived, but have you done anything for the people there?

All you are thinking about is Baekje, and you feel shame over the harsh reality that you have been turning a blind eye to the struggles of the people of Silla.

You place your hand gently on his cheek, bringing him to face you. It is dark inside the stables with only a few torches lit, but you can see with the faint light that his eyes still hold traces of tears.

“I am so sorry for what they did to you,” you say in a quiet, ashamed voice.

The man raises his eyes to meet yours, albeit shyly and a little scared.

“There is nothing for you to apologize about, My Lady,” he speaks in an equally hushed tone.

You bring your gaze down, not being able to look at him anymore because of how you failed to protect someone yet again, but still, you try to face him.

“May I know your name?”

Mild shock paints his features at your request, but he answers nonetheless. “Chen, Your Majesty. My name is Chen.”

You will yourself to smile, conveying at least a bit of comfort for his pain-riddled body as you bring out the small bag of coins you took with you to give to him.

“Please use this to buy supplies so you can have your bruises and wounds properly treated.” He seems to want to give it back but you enclose his hand with both of yours and push it gently towards him.

“I am sorry if this is all the help I can give for now,” you apologize earnestly. “But I swear I will take care of the people of Silla. I will help all those who need help.”

You gaze at him but this time, he diverts his eyes from you and stays quiet, not at all saying anything back. With his quietness, you guess you have overstayed your welcome so you stand up to leave.

As you are about to exit the stables, you hear him speak faintly. “Thank you,” he says so quietly, you almost don’t hear him.

You turn around and let out a tender smile. “You’re always welcome,” you say truthfully.

——

The coldness of the night makes its presence known, sending goosebumps to erupt on your arms and legs even with the thick clothing wrapped around your body.

Black paints the night sky and is littered with a few stars here and there, twinkling as if the light they have can’t be contained just within their vessels. As if there was so much light in them that they have to share it with the world.

That thought puts a small smile on your face. 

Glancing upwards, you gaze at the stars in the sky and you thank whatever gods are alive that at least someone or something, from somewhere in the world still want to share their light with you.

The smile falls fast from your lips, however, and your eyes divert from above towards the lands in full view from your place atop one of the upper floors of the castle.

Standing on the balcony connected to your chambers, you admire the few people going about and preparing for the night. There isn’t much to see, honestly, since the citizens of the capital tend to keep to themselves, as you have noticed.

Most of the nobles do not like you anyway, so you guess there aren’t any problems not seeing them more often. Well, the people don’t like you, noble or not.

Longing and frustration can only begin to describe what you have been feeling as of late.

Your heart yearns to be back in Baekje where your friends and family are, where your people are. You perfectly understand why you have to be in Silla and of course, you aren’t going to just up and leave to run back to those who care about you. 

But you just can’t fight the loneliness you always feel.

In all your time in your new home, you have seen nothing but cruelty and felt nothing but negative emotions. You always have to be strong in front of the others so the wolves they call nobles won’t tear you to pieces.

It feels like everyone is just waiting for you to snap and give up, to be the downfall of your own kingdom. You feel like they’re predators just waiting for you, the weak little prey, to make the mistake of getting out of your protective shell and into their domain.

The pressure is always so intense and ever-present, especially when you’re with the Crown Prince. You will be wed to him, tied to him for the rest of your life, all for the protection that Silla can provide for your people. You need to marry him and your feelings do not at all matter, especially in the grand scheme of things.

You know that… but sometimes he can be so, so cruel. 

Members of Minseok’s royal guard discovered spies disguised as servants and they didn’t hesitate to make them known to the public. They chained them to poles on the capital grounds and burned them to death.

You sat beside the Crown Prince throughout the whole ordeal and while you couldn’t even get yourself to spare a glance at the suspects out of sheer horror of what’s happening, you found that the situation wasn’t the same with him. The smile that he wore was so cold, so unaffected and so self-assured. 

He was amused by the spectacle in front of him.

Later that day, you accompanied the prince to honor Lord Chanyeol and Lord Sehun, the highest-ranking elite nobles from the royal guard. They discovered the spies and proposed the punishment they thought fit for those who committed treason.

You weren’t keen on seeing them again after you’ve just witnessed them terrorize an innocent servant a couple of weeks back, but there you were beside Minseok, fake-smiling and bestowing honor to them for successfully protecting the kingdom from perpetrators.

The enthusiasm was proper, and you agreed. After all, the kingdom was saved from what could have possibly been a catastrophic event. However, you didn’t concur with the way they treated the men. They were the enemy, but that did not mean that they should die a horrible death. However, it seemed like the people of the kingdom were all too happy to assert their dominance over their enemies.

Especially the Prince. 

The same one you were supposed to entrust your life to.

A choked sob makes its way up your throat and you don’t even try to fight it.

Nobody will hear you because you are alone anyway, always have been since you moved to Silla. Usually, your lady-in-waiting is there with you, but you sent her free for the night. Even though it is her duty to attend to you, deep inside you feel that she wouldn’t want to if she was given the option.

You heave a deep sigh and walk towards the hallway, wanting to get out and take a walk. Sliding the door open as you wipe your tears, you are surprised to find an equally startled man standing outside your chambers, eyes wide and mouth a bit open.

He quickly falls to his knees and pushes his head to the ground in a low bow. In your shock, you bend down and grasp his arms to pull him up from his kneeling position.

“Chen?” you call his name when you get a good look at his face, recognizing the servant you helped a few weeks ago.

“Princess…” he says in a quiet, unsure voice. He looks visibly flustered because of the proximity so you quickly let go of your hold on him.

Clearing your throat, you begin to ask him. “What are you doing here?”

He hesitates for a moment and averts his eyes from you before meeting your stare again with his own meek one. “I was passing through the corridors for my final duties of the night…”

“I heard somebody crying and looked for the source. I wanted to see if I could be of some help.”

Your heart skips a beat and a tear runs down your cheek.

Is this how deprived you are of kindness? That one act like that almost sends you bawling with relief in the discovery that there is, in fact, at least one kind person in Silla?

All rational thoughts escape your mind and you hold his cheeks with your palms. In an instant, your lips are on his, your eyes closed while his are wide open.

Just as fast as you held him, you immediately release him upon the realization of what you’ve done.

Air escapes your lungs when you fall on the floor in your haste to back away from him and your shocked and pained expression is enough to spur Chen to set aside his own surprise in favor of helping you stand from the floor instead.

Reason seems to have found its way back to your head and you frantically look at both ends of the corridor to see if anyone saw what just transpired.

Suddenly, Chen bows straight in front of you as he almost shouts out an apology.

“Forgive me, my Lady!” you’re stunned by him, his voice shaking and he looks as frightened as a hare corned by wolves.

“What… why…” guilt starts to eat at you from the inside. “Don’t… why are you the one apologizing?” You ask him in a shaky voice.

He stands up from his bow and is surprised to see you looking at him like he just did something wrong.

“Why are you apologizing when clearly I’m the one who just– just attacked you like that out of nowhere?” It is clear that you are getting frantic, guilt and anger brewing an unpleasant mix from within you.

“Had anyone witnessed what I did, you would be sentenced to death, no questions asked!”

Chen’s panic is rising with every word that comes out of your mouth and he whips his head around to see if anyone is passing by.

“Or maybe…” you look at your shaking hands, your breath shallow. The next words that come out of your mouth are said so quietly, it almost looks like the words are for you, and only you.

“Maybe you should tell the Prince that I forced you so he could gladly sentence me to death… after all I deserve such punishment for putting your life on the line--”

The arms that immediately engulf you are warm and you belatedly realize that Chen is already holding you close to his chest. You can’t fight it anymore, the pent up emotions all come rushing out like water from a broken dam.

The anger, the loneliness, the frustration, the sadness.

Everything just breaks free from you the moment you start crying.

It doesn’t even occur to you that you’re already sobbing until you hear Chen whisper words of comfort in your ears, telling you that it’s difficult but it’s all going to be okay and that he understands... That he understands very well.

When your crying has subsided, Chen leads you inside your room again and guides you to lie down. Grabbing the quilt, he drapes it over you until up to your chest, wishing you a peaceful sleep for the night.

He stands up, prepared to leave your chambers, but you grab his hand to stop him.

“Please,” you whimper. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

He looks at your face for a few seconds, causing you to almost take back what you said. You are about to apologize when Chen lifts the quilt and lays beside you.

There’s a significant space between the two of you but you’re just glad he’s there to be with you.  Even with the distance between your bodies, it’s the first time in a long time that you feel you’re not alone and just that is enough reason for you to be deeply grateful.

“Thank you,” you say with a low voice. Laying there side by side, sleep almost claims you fast with how much you’ve cried that night alone. You’re so tired of crying, so tired of feeling helpless and even more of being powerless to stop it.

With your eyes closed and your consciousness already dripping by the edge, rest is being yearned by your body and you almost succumb to the lull of darkness but not before you feel him hold your hand.

Just before you fall asleep, you hear Chen whisper.

“I understand.”

——

At first you thought the days that would follow the incident would be miserable, but now sitting beside Chen, hands intertwined and with only the moon and the stars as your witnesses, you couldn’t be happier.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think what you’re doing is dangerous, and you know it is, but the experience of comfort and companionship veils you from the real risks at hand.

The feeling of Chen rubbing soothing circles on your hand brings you out of the momentary daze you are in. Turning towards him, you meet his stare, loving how his gentle features bring you ease no matter the circumstances.

In your calmness, you fail to notice the slight crease between his eyebrows.

——

Darkness covers the skies, preventing any semblance of light from shining through as if the heavy clouds in your heart aren’t enough on its own.

Struggling to keep your panic inside, you breathe slowly as you try your best to ignore the way the Crown Prince’s hand on yours seems to burn your skin. Your hand shakes a little and it does not go unnoticed by him judging by how he spares a quick side glance your way.

The gathering seems to go on longer, each passing moment increasing the dread you are feeling. You do not pay attention to the people speaking, choosing to ignore for as long as you can the reality they are bringing to life with their words.

Despite the widespread dislike for you, the important people in the hall cannot contain their eagerness for the wedding, excited for once about the prospect of formally accepting you into the kingdom because it would mean Silla’s official subjugation of Baekje.

After some time, the nobles and the royals file out of the throne room, leaving only you and Minseok alone.

He turns towards you and takes you in his cold embrace, pulling your body impossibly snug against his.

“I cannot wait for tomorrow,” he says lowly in your ear. “The ceremony, and especially for what happens after… how I can finally claim you as mine.”

The Prince shifts his hold to your waist and moves so he can look directly into your eyes. “Tomorrow, I can have your all at last. Mind…” he leans closer as his hands travel higher.

“Body.” A kiss on the edge of your lips.

“Soul.”

He finishes as he plants a full kiss on your lips.

You tense upon the contact but Minseok doesn’t seem to care. He slowly pulls away and you almost recoil when you see nothing but amusement and anticipation dancing in his eyes. Licking his bottom lip, he lets you go and orders your lady in waiting to take you back to your private quarters.

With a bowed head, Yerim rushes to you and you all but run from the hall once Minseok dismisses you.

You can’t think straight so you let your feet take you to wherever, the young servant right on your heels worriedly urging you to go back to where the Prince ordered you to.

“Your Highness, we should go back,” Yerim says pleadingly but almost admonishingly, no doubt scared of the consequences, but you don’t listen to her. Turning towards another corridor, you’re surprised to find yourself face to face with Chen, his brows furrowed in concern upon seeing you in tears-- tears you don’t even notice.

“[Y/N],” he rushes towards you and he wipes the tears on your cheeks with his thumbs. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

A gasp sounds from behind you and when you turn around, you meet Yerim’s shocked face. She just saw Chen holding you with familiarity and speaking your name as if he is of same standing.

His eyes widen as he registers the presence of another person, not at all prepared for such an encounter.

Your servant hurries away and Chen turns to run after her, but you stop him with a hand on his arm. He looks at you and decides that your well-being is more important at the moment.

Taking your hand in his, he guides you along the corridors to your room, preferring to console you in private and away from prying eyes.

The moment the doors slide close, you loop your arms around his torso and sob on his chest.

It was unfair.

Why is the world just so unfair?

The past few weeks you spent with Chen have been the best you’ve had since you moved to the new kingdom. You were so caught up in the safety net that is him that you almost forgot the reason why you were in Silla in the first place. So good were you in pushing your worries to the back of your mind that you did start to forget your true purpose.

With only a day away from your marriage to the Crown Prince, all your worries rush back to your mind, overwhelming you and drowning you in their torrential waves.

Along with the reality that you will be tied to Minseok starting the next day, you cry harder upon the realization that you will have to stop meeting with Chen after the ceremony. Not only will it be dangerous not just for him, but for you as well, but it will also be unfair for Chen.

He is nothing but a kind soul and you know you can never be unfair to him.

You will not do that, no, and he doesn’t deserve to be treated like that. With all the courage you can muster, you detach yourself from his hold, still tearful and sniffling.

“Chen…” you look into his eyes, certain that it might be the last time you can openly do so.

He calls your name in a quiet voice and you can do nothing but let your body do what it yearns to do.

Your lips are on his before you can register it and your hands raise to caress his soft cheeks. He holds your jaw with one hand while the other finds purchase on your waist. All you can do is feel Chen and relish the time you can spend with him like this.

It doesn’t matter if you want him. Your choices never matter after all, but this time, you really feel the hurt from not having your emotions be put into consideration.

Even if you don’t want to, you know you will have to stop seeking comfort from the one and only person you consider your home away from your real home. You will have to part, and never will you be able to hold him like this again.

For reasons you cannot fully accept, you resign yourself to your fate and let yourself cry harder.

Chen feels your body shake from your sobs and he tries his best to convey comfort through the arms that hold you tight. You both know there’s no going around the destiny that awaits you so he simply guides you to lie down on your bed, engulfs you in his warm embrace and lets you cry your heart out. 

——

You wake up with a start, disoriented and with eyes still heavy from crying as well as your abrupt awakening.

However, sleep is instantly wiped from you when you see Chen hovering over you, a knife in his hand, poised and ready to be brought down on you.

The moment you lock eyes with him, his own widen and his hand starts to shake.

An interruption from your door startles the both of you and you turn to see the Crown Prince himself entering the room, a cold and almost blank look on his face but a small satisfied smirk on his lips.

Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, your personal guards, immediately enter the room and tackle Chen, holding him flat on the ground. His struggling does nothing to deter the two men holding him down, taking the knife from him and throwing it somewhere unreachable.

Before you can fully register what’s happening, Minseok speaks.

“This went on even better than I expected,” he says as he looks at Chen. “Back then, I knew I recognized you from somewhere and I wasn’t wrong.”

Glancing around the room, you still don’t know what is happening and it causes the frustration to seep from you. The Prince diverts his attention to you and your heart stops at the sight of his disapproving but all too amused stare.

“I thought I had warned you well not to let me find out about your foolishness, Princess,” he sees the confusion on your face and lets his smirk widen. As if on cue, Yerim emerges from behind him, wearing an expression you can only describe as a look of satisfaction.

You don’t understand! 

You thought Yerim was on your side-- that she would at least be willing to give you a chance to explain what she saw earlier but it seems you’re wrong and now it’s too late.

“--what… --I do not..,” you try to speak but find that you can’t form your thoughts into sentences. You move your gaze back and forth from Minseok to Chen, fear gripping your heart from what grim consequences are sure to await you and him upon being discovered by Minseok, but the Prince seems to know more than he lets on.

“Oh,” he chuckles as he raises a brow. “The Princess is worried about you, Kim Jongdae. Do you mean to tell me she does not know of your true identity?”

You frown at the unfamiliar name and snap your head towards Chen, seeing a semblance of guilt fall on his face. He averts his gaze from you and looks at Minseok instead, his lips curl into a snarl, daring the Prince to continue speaking.

Minseok isn’t deterred one bit. He bellows out a loud, harsh laugh and sweeps his hands in a grand gesture. “Imagine, you try to kill the next Queen of this kingdom and she does not even know who you are and what you were planning to do to her all along.”

Not caring about formalities, you grasp for clarity. “Chen!” you shout desperately. “What is he saying!”

The Prince walks towards you and pulls you up with a tight grip on your arm, making you cry out in pain. He brings you closer to him, holding your back flat against his chest with an arm around your waist while his other hand goes to hold your chin to force you to look at Chen… --at Jongdae.

“You see, Princess, Jongdae wanted to kill you,” he says, mirth obvious in his voice. “But you know I will not let that happen.”

“But do not tell me there is no recognition in you at all when you look at his face?” he mocks. “No recollection of any Kim Jongdae? Perhaps from your younger years?”

“Or maybe you do not know him… but you know of someone, a rather beautiful woman if I may say so, who for some reason is related to this scum who tried to end your life?”

You flinch at the reminder, not at all ready to wrap your head around the truth of Jongdae’s attempt on your life, but as you blink and stare at the man before you…

A sharp inhale is all you can muster at the moment. “That’s… that’s why you looked familiar… because I have seen you before,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “--you’re Taeyeon’s younger brother…”

Jongdae lunges forward at the mention of his sister’s name. “You do no’t get to talk about her as if you ever cared about her!” he shouts, voice riddled with pure unadulterated anger and pain. He almost successfully breaks free from the guards’ hold on him but they pull him back, hitting his body and forcing him to kneel in front of you and the Prince.

Minseok releases his hold on you and pushes you forward, causing you to fall on directly in front of Jongdae. “Go on, tell her the truth, you mongrel.”

“Chen… Jongdae,” gulping, you lift your head to look at him. “Please look at me.” You raise your hand to his cheek, willing him to tell you the truth but he avoids your touch altogether. He looks off to the side, choosing to fume silently in anger.

“Oh, you do not wish to speak?” the Prince says with a chuckle. “Let me do the honor then.”

He walks closer to Jongdae and lands a firm kick on his stomach, causing him to double over in pain.

“No! Stop!” you scramble to stop the Prince but he hits your face with the back of his hand, causing you to fall back curled on a heap on the floor.

“You do not know the truth yet, so stop trying to protect him, you fool,” Minseok says in a growl. “He wanted to end your life so he can prevent me from getting what I wanted - which is to rule over your kingdom. With you gone, Baekje can easily back off from their plea,” he clicks his tongue.

“No problem there but I would rather save the resources we will need to mobilize if we try to take your kingdom by force,” he looks at you then, reading the confusion clear on your face. “But why does he abhor me, you ask? Well, because I killed the pathetic little spy he calls his precious sister.”

Jongdae struggles again, wanting nothing more than to strangle the Prince with his bare hands, but the guards hold him down. 

“So you did not care about me the whole time…?” you try to say, your breath seemingly getting more shallow the longer you stay in the room.

Minseok picks up the discarded knife and presses the pointed tip on Jongdae’s neck. “Tell her, servant,” he urges, drawing a little amount of blood from Jongdae. “Tell her you do not care, even now. Tell her that the only intent you had when you showed her kindness was to create a ploy to take something important from me - to take revenge on me the only way you know how because you know you will never get the opportunity to kill me.”

“Well, you failed. Miserably. Just like your incompetent sibling.”

You sit helpless on the floor, eyes locked with Jongdae’s and you almost cry from the emotions that flit on his beautiful face.

Anger. Resentment. Betrayal. 

But among them, you also see something else.

Worry. Guilt. 

Regret.

Remorse.

... Love.

Memories from years back flood your mind and you remember personally selecting Taeyeon to be part of the emissaries to be sent to Silla for a special mission.

She was one of your personal guards, one of the best in the whole army, and you proudly endorsed her for it, not knowing that the task entailed spying on Silla.

After some time, you got word of her unexpected and unfortunate death, but you didn’t know it was because of the mission.

The first tear drop falls from your eyes… followed by another, and another. And you find your vision blurring from the onslaught of tears.

Jongdae’s breathing is also picking up, unfiltered negative feelings about his sister’s demise taking over his entire person. He doesn’t even attempt to stop it and just lets them cascade down his cheeks.

“Please don’t-- just…-- don’t pretend to care about her when you were the one who sent her to her death,” he chokes out, voice thick with sorrow.

You shake your head vehemently, “You don’t understand-- Jongdae, I did not know,” you sob. “I did not… if I knew then I would not have-- no…” you cover your face with your hands, desperate to get rid of the guilt and the blame for something you did not know. “She was my friend.”

“This brings me such great amusement,” Minseok laughs in glee. “Now that we have those misunderstandings out of the way, I want you fools to reflect on what happened so you can both feel more miserable. I should end your lives for treason and infidelity, no?”

He draws his own sword and points it at you. “Should I kill you first, Princess?”

Jongdae surprises everyone in the room with how he breaks free from the guards and tackles Minseok to the ground. He lands a solid blow to the Prince’s jaw before the panicked men drag him away, beating him up to make him stop.

“Do not lay your hands on her!” he growls out while struggling. “I will kill you if you so much as touch her!”

You stay still in shock and you feel yourself tense even more when Minseok lets out a full-blown laugh. “You dare threaten to kill me if I endanger her life when moments ago, she would have died by your own hands had I not interrupted?”

Jongdae lets shame wash over his face, draining the fight from him and preventing him from so much as glancing at you.

The Prince stands up from his place on the floor, laughing and clutching his stomach for reasons incomprehensible to you and Jongdae. “Will you look at that?” he says in between bouts of laughter.

Shaking his head, he straightens his posture and picks up his discarded sword. To your shock, he sheathes it back and looks at you. “So he does feel even a little for you even though you are foremost the reason why his beloved sibling is dead.”

“I will not kill you. Instead, I will make your lives miserable.” With the smirk still on his face, he walks towards the door, stopping just before he fully exits.

“And I will see to it that you see each other suffer throughout that misery, left wondering each passing day how much hurt you caused one another.”

——

Baekje was always pleasant.

Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was your home - a true home. It was one where you had a personal servant whom you treated like a sibling, and who treated you the same way.

You guess Yerim’s loyalty was never yours to claim in the first place.

Back where you came from, you grew up with with your people including the royal guards, the maids, the citizens. You knew just about everyone, but more so your personal guards Junmyeon and Yixing. You know they’d protect you and anyone you loved from any harm that came your way, and not even because of their sworn duty, but more from how they sincerely care about your wellbeing.

You guess it was foolish of you to mistake Kyungsoo and Baekhyun’s kindness to mean they will come to your aid no matter the circumstance. After all, who are you compared the the Prince -- the future King of their own kingdom.

As wishful as it is, you used to think you will be wed to the love of your life - someone you haven’t met back then yet, but who your father and mother assured you that you will get to marry. It was peaceful back then, so peaceful that the royal heads of the kingdom did not see the need to send you to marry a man you did not even know.

You guess you should not question the Prince’s intentions, for after all, isn’t it him who is granting you a wish when he agreed to marry you? Isn’t it him who will provide the safety you so prayed for your kingdom? Does his cruelty really matter? Should you not be thankful?

As much you loved your own kingdom, you had to leave it, for it was that exact love that pushed you to get the help your people needed. It was not an easy task, not in any way, but you thank the gods for blessing you with a person who serves as a beacon of light in a place filled with nothing but darkness. A person who serves as your warmth where there only was coldness. A home away from home, and a home you are eternally grateful for.

You guess you should have questioned it, but when you think deeply about what happened, you believe in the depths of your heart that you got to meet the real Chen -- the real Kim Jongdae. That despite him having a plan against you, you know he understands your plight. You know he did things out of love for his sister. You know that despite claiming to have just pretended to gain your trust, in the end, Kim Jongdae started caring for you… started loving you.

You saw it in the way he wasn’t able to bring the knife down.

You saw it in the way he protected you even in the face of a ruthless prince who can easily end both of your lives.

You saw it in the way he cared for you -- still cares for you.

And now, you see it in the way he looks into your eyes.

As you enter the hall to meet the Crown Prince, you steel yourself and your heart, finally accepting with grim resignation the fate that you tried so hard to evade.

Never will you trust anyone in the kingdom ever again.

Never will you put your faith on any of the people.

Never will you disobey the Prince lest you compromise the safety of your people.

And perhaps most important of all…

Never will you put Kim Jongdae’s life in danger ever again.

How will you be able to suppress your conflicting feelings for him when the Prince had so mercilessly ordered Jongdae to personally attend to you for the rest of your life?

To be forced to spend every waking moment with you when you had both been crushed by the unfortunate circumstances you’ve been tangled in?

What you had was truth founded on lies. You had come to love him and you know he had come to love you too, only to meet a destiny more painful than rejection. And as you engrave into your heart all of these promises you made, you wonder, how will your broken and crushed heart be able to handle Jongdae being by your side in the coming days?

Maybe-- maybe in another life, you can meet each other again.

And maybe in another life you can love without the pain, the anger and the sorrow that fill your current ill-fated lives.

[randomimaginesideas]

Chameleon effect (Diego x reader)

Request; May I request a Diego imagine with prompts 6 and 20, please? Thanks

- 6. “You know, you really are a total asshole.”

- 20. “Get the fuck away from him/her!”

Summary; You’re one of the 42 children with who were born on October 1st. Your ability making you an excellent thief. You run in with Diego on numerous occasions. You joke and “fight”, but there are still some feelings left unanswered.

A/N; My first Diego x reader (I am not too proud of this one.)

Trigger warnings; Blood, knives, mention of nudity, Swearing

The alarm was blasting through the museum. The police already had arrived at the scene, storming through the hallways looking for the thief. Diego was hiding behind a wall, as the police stormed passed. He looked around the corner and when he was sure there was no police in sight he closed the door towards the animal exhibition.

It was the room next to the jewel display where the alarm had gone off. He knew you would be here, you never escaped from the scene until the police had left. He knew that much. ‘You can come out now (Y/N).’ He called in the room, walking around trying to see if anything moved, his knives ready in his hands.

‘You already have enough jewellery, is another bracelet really necessary?’ Diego continued to talk, observing the room. ‘You know, if you had wanted a bracelet you could have just asked. I’m sure the police would love to put a bracelet on your wrist.’ Diego said when he suddenly felt something pressed against his temple.

‘Thank you, but I’m more of a diamond kind of girl.’ He heard your voice say. Diego’s eyes went to the corners of his eye where he saw a gun float against his temple. ‘What? Don’t I get to see that pretty little face of yours?’ Diego challenged with a grin. He saw a shimmer in the corner of his eyes. Your body becoming visible. You walked in front of Diego, his eyes fixating on your face, not daring to let his eyes drift downwards.

‘I must say, what is the point of invisibility when you can’t even turn your clothes invisible.’ Diego joked and you rolled your eyes, still keeping your gun pointed at his head. ‘I’ve already told you, Diego, I can camouflage, my body adapts to my background, not my clothing.’ You said annoyed. Your eyes went to the jacket he was wearing. ‘A gentleman would offer me his jacket.’ You noted and Diego laughed, while he carefully took off his jacket. ‘Good thing I’m not a gentleman then.’ He said and carefully handed you the jacket.

You lowered the gun and put on the leather black jacket. ‘How did you know it was me? It could have been just a regular thief.’ You said with a slight smile. ‘You’ve already stolen some earrings and a necklace, I figured you would need a bracelet to match.’ Diego said and you let out a loud laugh. Diego hated to admit it, but he loved the sound of that.

“You’re not as stupid as you look, Diego.” You said and took a step closer, pointing the gun at him again.  ‘See you next time Diego.’ You said, placing a kiss on his scar and wanting to walk away.

Then Diego took his chance and kicked your legs from underneath you. You felt to the ground, Diego jumping on you, grabbing your hands and taking some handcuffs from his belt. You trashed around, trying to break free but it had no use. When you were cuffed, and Diego was sure you couldn't escape anymore he pulled you up from the floor.

‘You know, you really are a total asshole.’ You muttered under your breath, which made Diego let out a laugh. ‘But you knew that already don’t you?’ He said jokingly and walked to the front of the museum. The lights of the police car casting you in a blue and red glow. ‘Gentleman, if you would turn your attention this way.’ Diego called loudly.

The policeman who had been busy arguing with each other turned their attention to Diego.’Dammit Diego!’ A woman shouted from the crowd. Detective Patch walked to the front and towards Diego, while Diego walked to towards her. ‘Eudora, you can sleep easily tonight knowing that I caught the culprit for you.’ He said with a wink which made you roll your eyes.

‘How many times have I told you not to intervene?’ Eudora hissed at him which she grabbed your arm to take you off his hands. ‘Easy, easy. I have delicate skin.’ You said to her trying to pull free. Eudora ignored you. ‘Diego, go home. I don’t want to see you here anymore.’ Eudora said one more time to Diego and she walked off with you.

‘Be careful with her, and her little tricks!’ Diego called after her. ‘Otherwise, she will escape.’ Diego said, letting Eudora stop in her tracks. ‘That will not happen.’

***

It happened. You had escaped. When a new police guard had shown up you had taken off your clothes, and camouflaged yourself. When the police man was doing his rounds, and saw that your cell was empty he had opened the cell and stormed in, trying to see for any escape routes. Leaving the cell door open you had quickly walked out, leaving that old rotten cell behind you.

Diego was sitting in the Griddy’s doughnuts shop by the window when he saw a motor, an Harvey, drive by. The motor stopped right in front of his window, and Diego looked open mouthed when he saw the girl under the helmet. Your (H/C) hair falling from under the helmet. You shook your head, making your hair fall in place. It was like a movie scene where the hot girl arrives on the scene and Diego fell under your spell.

You sat down your helmet and looked at Diego. You looked at him, and gave him a “come here” sign with your finger. Diego didn’t know how quick he had to go outside. You smiled at his reaction. ‘So, we have I think two weeks before I decide I need new jewelry.’ You joked and grabbed your helmet again. You looked at him. ‘You coming?’ You said, putting your helmet back on.

***

It had been a couple weeks since you had freed yourself from jail. The police were still looking for you, and Diego had told them you had no idea where you were. And currently, he didn’t know either. That was until he had gotten a text that said to meet you at the war house near the docks in the city. When he had arrived there you were literally running for your life. ‘(Y/N), what happened?’ Diego hissed towards you. You showed him a quick grin, while pulling him behind some storage boxes. ‘I may, or may not pissed off some people while trying to steal some stuff.’ You said looking around the boxes to show that you were followed. ‘Have you parked your car outside?’ You asked him and Diego nodded.

‘Good, let’s go.’ You said ready to move, but not before you quickly turned to Diego pressing a kiss on his lips. Diego closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of your lips on his, and before you knew it you were gone, sneaking past the boxes to the front of the storage. Diego quickly moved behind her. Then he heard gunshots, and a scream. Your scream.

Diego turned around, and saw three big guys standing there with machine guns. Diego grabbed two knives and threw them at one of the attackers. Hearing a grunt, and a body fall to the floor, Diego knew he hit the target. One of the remaining guys starting shooting towards Diego, who ducked behind one of the boxes.

Diego pulled another knives from his boot and threw it towards the other man, his body hitting the ground. Diego turned towards you, and saw that you had kicked the gun out of the man’s hand but was not wrestling with him on the ground. Diego saw how the man pulled out a knife from his belt, ready to strike you with it. “Get the fuck away from her!” He called throwing his own knife in the back of the attacker, letting the man fall over you.

Diego ran towards you, and pushed the man off you. He lend you a hand, which you grabbed and he pulled you from the ground, again. When you stood again Diego grabbed you by the hips and pulled you against him. ‘You’re crazy.’ He said towards you and you gave a grin. ‘And you’re still an asshole.’ You said and you pressed your lips against him.

[jungdrizzydraco]

Short-Story Slam 2019 Day 13 (Tonight, We Dance!)

WARNING: DEATH, GORE, AND WITCH-STUFF ENSUE

Clarisse looked over herself in the mirror for the sixth time, trying to drown out the loud music and shrieks and howls of laughter from the other girls outside her cherrywood door. The other girls in the dormitories always got rowdy on a full-moon, and Clarisse looked down on them for it; what kind of basic-witch over the age of 16 can’t control themselves during a full moon? Clarisse splayed her hands over her lavender dress, a simple slip, and admired the ritual prayer beads that hung around her neck. The old beads looked more like fossils, perhaps the first pearls man has ever discovered, but the energy they could hold and manipulate was nothing to fart at. Before she could finish insuring her presentability, a hard knock pelted her room door. Her green eyes flickered angrily at the sound, and with a flick of her neck & head the door flung open violently. A dark-skinned girl with finger waves and matching ritual beads, stood in the doorway, unimpressed with Clarisse’s rather apparent anger.

“Claire-bear, hurry your sweet ginger ass up! The dance is starting, and your Virgo ass is in here, looking over yourself for-”

“The sixth time, no thanks to any of you merciless bitches out there.” Clarisse said, stomping her feet into an unassuming pair of combat boots.

“It’s what I’ve always wanted: To be a merciless power-bitch.” Donna replied grinning proudly.

“Besides, it’s not our fault your OCD ass needs to look over yourself six times: one for every limb, and an extra two for your head and forehead.”

“My forehead is attached to the rest of my cranium, smart-ass.” Clarisse said, near-instantly regretting her comment.

“Yeah, but your forehead is so big, I’m sure it runs on it’s own time so-” a snickering Donna was interrupted by a hastily thrown hairbrush, which froze in mid-air right before hitting Donna in her expensive nose. A wrinkle of annoyance crossed her face.

“Bring your pasty ass, we’re not gonna wait for you all night!” Donna huffed from the doorway threshold.

“What? Literally no one is ready, everyone is out there yelling like fucking illiterate sociopaths-”

“Girl, no one is in the dorms at the moment.” Donna said rolling her eyes.

“Now how is that possible, there’s music playing as we speak?” Clarisse said, marching out to the hallway. Then, silence…you could hear a pin drop.

“Who. The fuck. Hexed my fucking room?” Clarisse growled to herself.

Yeah, everyone left a half an hour ago. Maybe if you bothered to actually be nice to folks, instead of looking down that pointy-nose of yours-”

“Careful Donna, years of pent-up frustration is very quickly coming to a head, and I can’t guarantee I won’t set you on fire if you say another wrong thing to me.” Clarisse said, storming back into her noisey room. She bit down on her thumb hard, causing a cut that could bleed, and smeared the blood on the faux-marbled floor. She muttered a command in a language lost to normal civilian ears, and the room was swiftly enveloped in a vacuum of silence.

“Good for you. But I know you’d better drop that shit attitude of yours, a bitch doesn’t wanna get eaten by some 3-headed dog demon that pops up because you can’t take a joke. Now bring that ass, let’s go hunting.” Donna said, before twisting away and making her way down the corridor.

The duo traversed the nearby woodlands expertly, they’ve been through these woods a thousand times before they had even kissed their first boy, it was a witch's responsibility to connect more with nature than people (especially men). They came upon the rest of the coven, young ladies shimmering in the bright flame of a bonfire, dancing around in a frenzied circle. With a closer look, one could see that there were three people tied up, sitting on the ground (and quite possibly shitting themselves).

“Goddammit! They already caught the sacrifices, fucking with you!” Donna said, scoffing at her demi-friend’s tardiness.

“So you like getting all sweaty and shit? It’s better for us anyway, and your edges won’t have to suffer, we all know they need as much support as they can get.” Clarisse snickered under her breath.

“Watch it, Clair, I might charm yours to strangle you in your sleep.” Donna said, dusting off her distressed skinny jeans. The girls joined their coven mates in the circle, and began the ceremonial dance; a series of frenzied yet purposeful movements, meant to maximize energy output and reception. It may look like ecstatic flailing to some, but it was a science to the girls, and it took years to master and perform properly. One of the dance’s most important components was a clear mind, which Clarisse definitely did not have, she was still upset with whomever messed with her room. Clarisse never suffered fools well, especially when she was made the fool. Her curly mane practically twisted with vengeful thoughts, but she soon found out they weren’t her own: an ominous feeling bunched her stomach up into knots of squirming millipedes, and her eyes seared with heat and bold blotches of colors, some of which could never be found in any light source of this world. Something blunt and hard smacked Clarisse in the mouth, and the warmth and iron of fresh blood soon filled her bottom lip. She looked up to see who had the big idea of punching her mid-dance, only to find that the circle had come to a complete halt. The expressions on all of the girls had faded, now left only with dead fish-eyes staring into the abyss of what used to be the base of a sizable bonfire. Clarisse found herself fixated on the pit as well. She wondered if the pit beguiled Donna as well. And she could swear she saw something staring back. The boys were traumatized, both by all the events of the evening that led to this moment as well as the current moment in question. One took this as an opportunity to try and make a break for it: he squirmed desperately against his bindings, and eventually freed himself of one hand. Of course the bindings weren’t too tight, the witches liked to give occasional chase to the really brave and smart boys, and untying themselves was a good indicator of that. The blue-eyed boy frantically began pulling at the ropes at his ankles, the other boys mumbling loudly for help, but there muffled pleas fell on deaf ears. Clarisse felt her stomach un-knot, and her vision returned to normal, simultaneously, a long tree branch erupted from the base of the pit and ran straight through the would-be escapee. Clarisse lurched backwards in shock which gave way to disgust and pure horror as she took notice of the “branch”: it was no branch at all actually, but instead a long, malevolent forearm, aged raw by wickedness and hatred. The boys panicked again, one fainted the other soiled himself. A very tall and slender figure slowly arose from the pit, the bile of the underworld tumbling off of it like soil off a groundhog, and the figure stood nearly nine-feet tall. The smell of rotting flesh and sorrow and mold filled the air, the boys sat at the beings feet, frozen or unconscious from fear.

“You summoned me, sistren?” The tall figure spoke in Clarisse's mind. The intrusive voice scratched like nails from a black cat onto a chalkboard, but there was a familiarity to it. It was like a much louder version of thoughts she’d had only a few minutes ago.

“W-what?” She whispered meekly.

“Your thoughts called unto me…ever so loudly…even the fog of Death could not block you-”

“I didn’t…I never…I don’t even know what you are…” Clarisse said, tears streaming down her face.

“Hekate’s dance…is not to be taken with a child’s grasp…of knowledge…you danced with forces far greater than your own. Beloved…I am your vengeance. I am Madame Nemesis…and you were a fool to bring…a darkened mind into…Lady Hekate’s purity circle…now your coven will pay your burden with you.” Nemesis said, raising her absurdly long arms into the air, and like a satanic choir conductor, all the witches screamed at the highest pitch they could muster…and that’s when the heads began to explode. First the two boys, then every witch in a counter clockwise formation, skipping Clarisse including Donna. Then, in the reverse order, every cadaver caught fire, lightning up like tiki torches. The scene horrified Clarisse, who couldn’t even move her mouth to scream or her tear ducts to produce anymore tears, let alone run away. The tall, wicked woman that stood before her, took something of a kneel and outstretched her hand towards Clarisse.

“Take responsibility…beloved…it is you who brought this upon your coven…come quietly…suffer no more.” Nemesis whispered in the darkest corners of her mind. Clarisse only found the strength to sob again, before the knots came back and the heat blotches skewed her vision. A yell of great pain and agony jumped out of her throat, as she joined her sisters in death.

[diigbydog]

you answered my riddle

Riddler (x Female!reader?) oneshot 

word count: 1842

A/N: hi guys! this is my first time writing ed, and first in a long time writing a fic, so i am looking forward to what you all think! i hope you all enjoy! it dosnt get very romantic but there is scenes of tension and implied interest! i may do a follow up if people want one!

It had been a normal day at the club. It was around 9pm on a friday night and the club was packed with patrons, tables were full and the dancefloor was lively. I had worked there for around 3 months now and every day was the same, different people but same routine. My colleagues are nice, and we tend to joke about particularly extravagant customers. The customers usually behaved themselves, even the criminal ones. A local band was playing on stage, they were better than most acts we've had in the past, But unfortunately they were interupted by 3 loud gunshots coming from backstage.

Suddenly, four armed men wearing masks charged onto stage pushing the performers onto the dancefloor  "Alright, everyone stay where you are! dont move!" one of them demanded as he pointed his gun to the ceiling and let off a few more warning shots. Their guns turned to the crowd of terrified gothamites. A chuckle could be heard, followed by "good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Im afraid tonights entertainment has been altered slightly!" I focused on the figure walking onto stage, it was a tall man in a stunning green suit and black bowler hat, the riddler, without a doubt. "- you're all going to be my entertainment now!" He chuckled into the microphone. I hadnt moved from the spot i was in when the first gunshot was fired. I couldnt seem to move yet my eyes were fixated on him. He continued to spew his selfcentered nonsense, carelessly waving around the pistol in his hand "now i dont want to hurt any of you lovely people, but im affraid unless the bar staff give me all of the cash out of the register, oh and answer my riddle, well you will all have to die, and we dont want that now, do we?"

I felt my heart beat faster as he jumped off the stage and started to carve a path through the crowd, directly towards me, one of his masked goons following close behind, empty  cloth bag in hand. As he got closer i slowly raised the empty tray, that i was holding, to my chest, clutching it with both hands. A smirk spread accross his face as he pointed the gun at me and purred "c'mon now dear. Dont keep me waiting." 

Nodding, i backed up towards the bar, placing the tray down next to the register. Riddler hopped up and sat on the countertop, speaking once again into the microphone as i opened the cash register and stepped aside to let the goon do his work. "Now whilst this lovely young lady is getting my money. Lets see if any of you can answer my riddle! Three tries to get it right! and if you dont?" Another gunshot into the ceiling. 

By this time it was just plain irritating, so i plucked up some courage and interupted before he sould announce his riddle "Y'know riddler if you wanna leave here alive you might want to stop shooting the bloody ceiling, it'll fall down before you've finished running your mouth" i instantly regreted speaking as his head spun violently to stare at me, a look of suprise on his face. I could see his teeth grinding, as if he wanted to say something horrible, but he just smiled sarcastically and muttered "thanks for the heads up, darling," 

  "now where was i, ah yes! my riddle!" he said, slowly turned his head back to the crowd "A most delicious thing, it can be given but cannot be kept. Some awake from it after they've slept. It is the moistest and softest butterfly wing, But when it is the last even it can sting." 

He looked at the faces of the crowd. Confused, fearful, and contemplating their careful answers, whispering between eachother. I watched as the masked man took out the last of the cash from the register. The riddle wouldnt stop repeating in my head. As I looked to the crowd to see if anyone had an answer, a man stood up and raised his hand. "You sir! What may your answer be! Remember, you all only get three tries!"

"Cake? The answer is cake." The man stuttered "its delicous and soft. But can be bitter if its a leaving present!" 

The riddlers face turned from an amused smirk to pure anger "NO!" He widely strode over to the man who had now fallen to his knees in fear "CAKE?! WHO WAKES UP DUE TO CAKE?!" I look away as he strikes the man over the head with the base of his gun, knocking him out.

Riddler brushed himself off, sighing in frustration, slowly striding back to the counter, making eyecontact with me. I felt deep down that i knew the answer, and i couldnt let these people die, i could wait until someone else goes to answer, but then if i was wrong i would have to watch him shoot up the building, atleast if i got this wrong he would knock me unconcious. so i timidly raised my hand. 

"so, you think you know the answer, 'ey?" He grinned as he leant over the counter, resting his hands under his chin. 

"Yes. I think i do." "Well then, please, " he continues to repeat his riddle once more, making sure to emphasise each word of importance. "what. am. i?" "a kiss. Thats my answer, a kiss" 

a long pause ensued as he turned round, straightening himself up and adjusting his hat. i felt as if i couldn't breath, i had no idea what would happen if i was wrong. then he spoke up.

"well, you are all safe, congratulations!" i let out a relieved sigh, i could breath again. Police sirens could start to be heard in the distance, riddler and his men start to head back to the stage "aaaand that is our call to go boys! I bid you all farewell! sorry for the inconvenience" And with that, riddler and his goons dissapeared backstage.

-1 week later-

Everything was back in order. The ceiling had been fixed and our doors were open once again. The only thing that was different was that the manager provided all employees with switchblades, for self defence of course. 

Today it was my job to clean out the storage room(aka the basement). we store everything down there, from non perishable food to extra seating, and it was my turn to organise it. "Now where to start" i muttered to myself, deciding after some contemplating to start with the largest items and making my way to the smaller ones. 

Around 2 hours into my mission, i heard the door to the basement creak open, i thought nothing of it as it was probably one of my co-workers looking for a new chair, it wasnt uncommon for a customer to request an extra one. But as the footsteps got closer i realised i didnt recognise the click of heels on the stone floor (no one i work with wears heels, were on our feet all day, why would we suffer through heels!) Fearing the worst i grabbed my blade out of my back pocket and turned round, pointing it at the unknown figure.

As i focused, i realised that edward nygma, the riddler, had returned once again. Although this time, instead of his dazzling green suit, he was sporting some matte black heeled dress shoes, fitting black trousers, a shirt with rolled up sleves and a form fitting waistcoat. Not to mention the extravigant black tie, deccorated with green question marks.

"Riddler" i shakily said, standing my ground as he walked towards me, stopping just infront of the blade i was holding . 

"Hello again-" he glanced down, his hands reaching up to gently prise the blade out of my hand, admitely i was not fighting back, i was far too intimidated to fight back. "Thats enough of that. Im not here to harm you, y'know" he said, in a somewhat comforting tone. I took one step back, distancing myself as he was admiring the blade "atleast your boss isnt cheap, this is a nicely made knife" he looked up at me "now, if i give you this back, you promise to calm down?" He softly asked, gently holding the now closed switchblade out to me. 

I hesitated, but nodded and accepted his offer, letting out a small sigh as i put the blade back into my pocket.  Riddler calmly sat down on a nearby chair, crossing his legs, making himself comfortable "Now, isnt that better" he smiled. I stay silent. "you can talk yknow, im not going to bite!" "I just still dont quite understand why you are here..." i paused, not knowing how to reffer to him "Please, call me edward" "right, edward, why come back alone?" "well, to see you of couse!" "but....why? that dosnt explain anything" "you answered my riddle, plus, ive been fascinated with you since you started working here." me? yes i have seen edward in our club with oswald cobblepot in the past, and i have served him but fascinated? "well...im flattered, i really am, but fascinated? how?"

"well ive never seen you loose your temper, even with oswald and his demands, its quite impressive" he explained, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees "i wandered if you would tell me more about yourself?" i smiled and blushed, slowly starting to get back to my work, talking as i go "im afraid there isnt much to tell, im not that interesting, deffinately not compared to you and your company" 

Ed pulled himself out of his chair to stand close besides me, handing me a fork to add to my pile "oh quite the contrary, anyone with saint's patience like you must have something interesting to tell" looking up into his eyes i saw the determination he had to make me talk, i knew we couldnt talk here, there was too much risk, considering the camera that was placed in the far corner of the room, currently not capturing eds presence. i turned my body to face him as i took the fork out of his hand, thumb slightly brushing his fingertips.

"well,ed, if you really want to know more, i think we should meet some other time, im sure you wouldnt want anyone knowing you were here, would we?" i said, gesturing over to the camera. 

His face dropped as he realised the risk "i suppose you are right, give me a time and place and i'll be there." 

"wow, you are determinded, aren't you? fine, meet me near the lake in the park, tomorrow at 7:30, deal?" i cannot belive i just suggested that. "we have a deal. i shall see you then" i cannot belive he just agreed to that. and with that, he skipped up the stairs, 2 steps at a time, stopping at the top to turn round, smirking at me once more before shutting the door behind him. 

Until then, Mr.nygma.

[lovedevorak]

Maere + Julian - bath scene

Yep, I wrote the entire bath scene with Maere and Julian, under the cut because it turned out kinda long. I hope it isn’t too boring - a lot of it, especially dialogue, is from the game but I also improvised quite a bit, too. You can really insert any female Apprentice in here, if you can ignore the use of the name Maere! Enjoy~

The splendor of Nadia’s bathroom amazes Maere from the moment she and Julian enter it. Exquisite, tall arches curve over doors and windows, elegant designs hand carved into the marble that catch the candlelight and that of the moon, hovering outside the large open balcony overlooking the city. Sheer drapes flutter delicately in the night breeze, as if waving a gentle hello to the glittering stars above. It’s fairly quiet, muffled cheers and laughs floating up through the window from the Masquerade below, but distant enough to fade out of mind. 

Maere steps onto the tiled floor edging the bath itself, sleek and shiny. She looks down and sees her own reflection peering up at her, wide eyed. Julian’s knuckles brush her arm as he takes in the beauty of the room, turning his head this way and that in awe. 

“I could get used to this,” he comments, fixing his excited gaze on Maere. “Come on, I’m ready to relax for a bit.”

Maere smiles, reaching behind her head to untie her mask and place it on a bench near her. She stretches her arms up to take Julian’s mask off as well, setting it next to hers. Julian sighs and nuzzles into her hand, eyes slipping closed for a moment in contentment. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, lips brushing against her palm as he speaks. Long arms come to grasp Maere’s shoulders, anchoring her to him as he leans forward and presses their bodies together. Maere strokes her hands up his sides, keeping him close. 

Suddenly Julian pushes away, cheeks pink, and takes his hands back, eyes darting around awkwardly. “It’s, uh, it’s hot in here, isn’t it?” It is, Maere thinks. There’s plenty of steam rising from the bath, making the air heavy and damp. She already feels her gown starting to cling to her body. 

She lets out a soft laugh, reaching up to loosen Julian’s collar. Her fingers tug at the red cravat around his neck and he focuses his attention back on her. His own hands come up to cover hers, holding them to his chest. A tender look falls over his face, so intense and sincere that Maere almost finds it hard to hold his gaze. 

Julian speaks softly. “If you told me before that I could be here with you…” He shakes his head slightly, hands leaving Maere’s to brush over the material on her shoulders. Maere’s breath catches in her throat. She isn’t nervous, really; she enjoys his touch far too much for that. But the emotion on his face, in the way his fingers push her gown down her arms reverently? That is something she isn’t used to. To be so loved and adored… She nearly trembles at the ferocious swell of affection that blooms in her chest toward him.

Unclasping her gown from the back, Maere helps Julian slide the silky fabric off her body entirely. It pools on the floor around her ankles, a shimmery pink puddle. She wastes no time in unbuttoning Julian’s own costume, slipping the feathery coat down his arms and tugging the cravat loose. He lets her do all the work, gray eyes lidded and heavy as they take in the sight of her. His desire is plainly evident on his face, and his breath catches in his chest as her fingertips lightly trace a path down from his collarbone to his hipbone, to make quick work of his trousers and boots. 

With one hand Julian catches Maere’s arm, stopping her from touching him. With the other he reaches behind her, stretching to grab two sheer silk robes from the wall. Maere smiles her thanks and slips the light fabric around her shoulders, tying it at the waist. 

“Ahh, now this is the life, isn’t it?” Julian sighs. He looks divine, the robe draped casually over his shoulders and leaving the wide expanse of his chest and neck bare. Maere resists the urge to reach out and kiss him, to trail her fingers down his abdomen and feel his soft skin, speckled with dark hair from chest to hips. “You can’t get luxury like this on a pirate ship.” He turns his back to her, stretching his long limbs delightfully - Maere gathers her self control and simply watches - and beginning to poke around the colorful glass bottles and jars, set on a copper tray on the edge of the bath. He plucks one up and pops the cork off, sniffing its contents curiously. 

With an excited grin, Julian glances up at Maere. “This… I’d know this salty tang anywhere,” he says. “Premium bath salts, fresh from Nevivon! Ah, what a nostalgic smell.” He studies the jar fondly for a moment, then turns it over above the water and shakes out a generous amount. After a quick investigation of the other jars, Julian seems satisfied with his bath concoction and slides over the edge into the water. Blue steam rolls up his shoulders, shrouding him in a lovely glow and the sweet scent of the sea. With a coy smirk over his shoulder, he beckons her. “Come on in, Maere, the water’s fine,” he purrs. 

Maere nearly trips over herself in her haste to join Julian in the bath. He scoots over, making room for her to sit next to him as she lowers herself into the warm water. It’s immediately relaxing and she can’t hold in a groan as she stretches her legs out, letting them bob and float in front of her. 

“Can’t remember the last time I had a bath this nice,” he says. Tentatively he reaches out, brushing his fingertips on my shoulder. “And it’s been even longer since I had one with such good company.”

Maere pulls his outstretched hand to her lips, pressing a soft smiling kiss to the palm. She peers into his eyes, which are wide and fixated on her. 

“I-“ He cuts himself off, flexing his fingers against her cheek. “Is the water okay? Do you need anything?”

Maere recognizes the look on Julian’s face. He wants to please her, wants to do anything he can to make sure she’s happy and taken care of. An endearing trait, sure, but right now she has other ideas. 

“Let me take care of you,” she whispers against his skin, kissing each of his fingertips individually and then moving further up. 

Julian seems too stunned to speak. “I, uh… What?” he stammers. He can’t tear his eyes away from the lips currently brushing against the pulse point at his wrist, can’t hide how his hands are suddenly trembling. A lovely pink blush creeps all the way from his shoulders to his cheekbones. “I-I’m fine, really, I-“

With one finger against his mouth, Maere silences him. “You deserve to be cared for, too,” she murmurs, releasing his arm to focus her full attention on looking into his eyes. They dilate, flicking over her face anxiously. Maere slides closer, so her side is pressed fully against his and she has to crane her neck back to see him. 

Julian swallows thickly. “Well, alright, but-“ 

He is cut off with a kiss, slow and sensual and soft. At first he tries to say something else, Maere can feel him tense and pull back slightly, but just as well he relaxes and leans into her. His long arms curve around her back, pulling her torso flush to his. After a moment Maere breaks contact, turning her head to sort through the bottles behind her. She finds one, a sandalwood scented perfume, and grabs it. 

“Come here,” she says, gesturing to the space between her legs in the water, “I’ll wash your hair.” Julian surges forward eagerly, splashing water over the edge of the bath and up the front of Maere’s robe. She laughs at him as he settles his back against her thighs, armpits hooking over them to keep himself supported. With a gentle push Maere guides him lower into the water, until his head is resting against her navel, and laces her fingers through his curly hair. The moan he lets out as she strokes his scalp is positively sinful and reverberates through her core, but she stays quiet, working on lathering the shampoo beneath her hands. 

“is this okay?” he asks suddenly. “Should I move? Am I resting on you too hard?”

Maere shakes her head, even though he can’t see it. “You’re doing amazing, Julian,” she assures. “I mean it.”

He’s taken aback. “Am I?” His shoulders relax a bit more into the water, finally letting go of all the tension he’d been holding. “I, uh, okay then.”

Maere works for a while, gentle fingers lathering and smoothing and massaging until Julian is a puddle against her, and then she rinses him clean. He still feels unsure, his aura more reserved and self-conscious than usual, but at least he’s allowing himself to be doted on for a while. It’s obviously not something he’s used to, though he enjoys it. Praise, she supposes, isn’t a luxury he was ever afforded while growing up, and even now. Once Julian’s hair is rinsed of shampoo, Maere’s hands travel down his neck, firm touches soothing muscles she’s sure have been tight for a long, long time. He groans again, head lolling forward to allow her better access.

“You’ve been working so hard, Julian. You should relax, too.”

His shoulders rise with a sharp intake of breath. “It never feels like enough,” he mutters, fingers finding Maere’s ankles in the water and gripping them. She pulls her hands away from his body, reaching out for one of the red flowers drifting by on the surface and tucking it behind his ear. Leaning forward, she presses a kiss to the side of his neck, where her fingers just were. She feels his body tense, feels his pulse hammering beneath her lips. 

“It’s enough,” she whispers, trying to convey every ounce of assurance and affection she feels through her voice. 

Julian’s hands clench around her ankles. “Maere…” He turns around to face her, suddenly knelt between her thighs, wet skin illuminated in the moonlight and steam swirling around his eager face, and Maere’s heart skips a beat. He is so beautiful, so vulnerable, she thinks, as she reaches out to trace a droplet of water down his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. Planting his hands on either side of her, he rises out of the water high enough to kiss her, once, then twice, then again and again, until he is pressed against her stomach and his hands are knotted in her hair and their breaths come in pants, two beings together as one. He’s speaking a different language to her now, one with no words, but rather comprised of touch and emotion, and she understands exactly what he’s saying. When they pull apart, it’s with a reluctant sigh. Julian rests his forehead against Maere’s, giving her one last kiss on the tip of her nose. 

[rose-of-fair]

A Family Trip

(For the lovely @aoi-hina here is some wholesome family fluff content ❤)

       The smell of freshly baked pumpkin bread caught the attention of little Luna who was squirming in the arms of her father, Julian. Jenna smiled, amused at the scene and pinched her daughter's cheek fondly. Jenna and Julian had decided that they would bring Luna through the marketplace of Vesuvia and along the way pay a visit to Portia’s home. It was a rare opportunity for Luna to explore Vesuvia like this, and it was clear she was enjoying it. Her grey eyes sparkled with wonder as she continued to point at random things she saw while Julian did his best to explain it to her, Currently, Luna was fixated on the smell of pumpkin bread. Jenna’s stomach grumbled. She couldn’t deny that she too was craving for the delicious smelling bread. It had been far too long since she last had a fresh slice from the breadmaker.

   “Let’s get some pumpkin bread. We can bring extras, for Portia,” said Jenna. Luna stopped squirming and beamed. “Yay!” Luna raised her tiny arms above her head, making the passersby looked over at her and smiled. She was still at the phase she didn’t quite have an indoor voice yet. Julian adjusted his hold on Luna and agreed.

  “Sounds like a great idea! I haven’t had pumpkin bread in so long. I know Portia will be dying to try some.” The family crossed the busy walkway into the bakery. In unison Jenna, Luna closed their eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of freshly baked goods. The mix of scents was captivating, making Luna’s stomach growl. Jenna and Julian laughed together and ordered a large loaf of pumpkin bread. The young apprentice wrote down the order went to the back room to the kitchen. Seconds later an older breadmaker came up to them. Jenna immediately recognized the man.

“It’s good to see you, Jenna. Glad you are here to have my pumpkin bread again,” said the Breadmaker. He wiped his flour-covered hands against his apron and grinned. His short slicked brown hair had a few more grey hairs but he stilled looked the same when Jenna and Asra would visit almost every single day a few years ago. Julian coughed, breaking the reunion between the two of them.

 “Did you forget about me old good breadmaker?” said Julian jokingly. The Breadmaker laughed and crossed his path his bad a little too hard, making Julian stumble forward with Luna still in his arms.

   “How could I forget my arch rival at the Rowdy Raven? Ever going to come back and reclaim your title?” said the Breadmaker. The two of them had a brief history of engaging in drinking games at the Rowdy Raven. It was a constant tug of war battle between the two of them. Julian lifted Luna up so she could get a better look at the place, “As you can see, I have been busy with this little rascal.” Luna shyly waved and wrapped her arms protectively around Julian’s neck. The Breadmaker crouched to Luna’s eye level and smiled brightly at her.

 “Why you look at that! She really looks like the two of you. What a pretty girl.”

“Her name is Luna.” Jenna spoke proudly. Her daughter was her world. Showing off this bundle of joy to the world make her beyond happy. “Luna? Very unique and pretty name.” Luna smiled at the Breadmaker and he laughed. As the three chatted away, reminiscing the past, one of the bakers brought a tray carrying the giant loaf, hot and fresh to the table.

  “Would you like to bring it home?” said the young baker. “Yes, please.” said Jenna. She had to hold back from taking a small piece before the young man wrapped it up securely and gave it to her. “Enjoy! Come again soon. This old guy misses you.” Jenna was stunned. The older man spoke of us often? Her heart felt warm and light knowing that he cared so much about their wellbeing. “I will definitely come back again very soon. I promise.”

  “Excellent! I will keep you to that,” spoke the senior Breadmaker as he shook Julian’s hand. The family waved him goodbye and parted ways. Promising each other that they would come again with Luna to try all the delicious goods. Luna who hadn’t said much leaned her head against Julian’s shoulder and pouted.

“I want some bread.” Luna looked at her dad with that puppy dog eye expression that always made Julian cave in. Noticing this Julian looked She he wouldn’t be swayed by his daughter.

“We will have some when we get to my sisters home. It won’t take long to get there, I promise.” Jenna noticed Luna’s sad expression. If they continued their way like this, Luna would surely have a fit later. A thought came to her.

“How about we play a game?”

“A game?” Julian and Luna spoke in unison. It was moments like this that Jenna was reminded how alike these two were to each other, even if they didn’t have the awareness of it at times. Jenna adjusted her glasses and moved the bag of bread from one arm to the other.

"Let’s play I spy,” said Jenna.

“I wanna play!” Luna yelled and tightened her grip on Julian’s neck. He tried pulling her arm away from his neck so he could breathe.

“I spy with my little eye, something that is green,” said Julian. Luna, looked around curiously, “The grass?” She said, pointing at the lunch green grass that travelled up the stone path.

"No. Try again, dear,”

“That leaf on your coat!” Luna reached for a fallen leaf and removed it from his coat. Julian laughed and examined the leaf. It wasn’t quite what he was looking at but seeing his daughter happy was all worth it.

“You are correct, Luna! Good eye!” He ruffled Luna’s auburn hair and kissed her cheek. Jenna watched them and smiled. Those two are definitely alike in more ways than one.

“Mommy, one more!”

“Alright, alright. How about I guess this time.” Jenna looped one arm through Julian’s. The two of them watched Luna looked around the oncoming trees and greenery and suddenly her eye caught onto something.

“Eye spy with my little eye, something that is blue.”

“My dress?” said Jenna.

“Nope!”

“That bluebird.” Julian pointed at the blue jay that perched itself on the tree. “No.” said Luna. Jenna and Julian tried to guessing what she was seeing but couldn’t spot anything that was blue. They crossed a thick forest that led directly to Portia’s home. Countless Nadia gave them private entry so they could visit her whenever they desired.

Luna had her eyes locked onto something but Jenna nor Julian could have guessed what she was looking at. “I give up. What is it?” said Jenna. “Kitty!” squealed Luna who was squirming in her father's arms again. Julian panicked and held her securely. “A cat?” Julian looked ahead and through the bushes could see a small shadowy figure through the leaves. The animal meowed and peered its blue eyes at them. Julian laughed.

"Jenna, it’s a cat with blue eyes,” Julian beamed down at Luna, “excellent eye you got their.” They got closer to the cat who then jumped out from the bushes and began to press themselves against Julian’s leg.

“Pepi! It’s good to see you. Were you waiting for us?” Cooed Jenna. She crouched down and scratched Pepi’s ears affectionately. Pepi butted her head against Jenna’s palm and purred. Luna reached out her tiny arm and rubbed Pepi’s back, the cat immediately falling onto the ground and rolling her back against the grass, stomach exposed for more pampering. Jenna was about to reach over to Pepi before the cat jumped up suddenly at a familiar voice. The family turned their heads in the direction of the voice to see Portia wading through the bushes. Her face flushed red likely from moving around so much. Portia raised a hand as she gathered herself, steadying her racing heart before speaking.

 “You are in big trouble, Pepi! I was looking all over for you,” Portia crossed her arms, “Now look at you, rolling on the floor for some attention from my brother and sister-in-law.” Pepi meowed and trotted over to Portia, rubbing their head against her legs. She sighed and picked up Pepi in her arms.

 “It's good to see you all safe and sound. Sorry, you had to come see me looking this like.” Portia gestured to her frizzy auburn hair. Jenna waved her hand dismissively, “You look beautiful as always, Portia.”

“Oh, you flatterer. Come on let's go to my home.” Portia laughed and led the way. Julian and Jenna followed in tow. As they took a sharp right through a narrow but cleared path, they say Portia's home. It was small but full of life and vegetation. It felt like a zoo, a chaotic one at that. Portia opened the heavy wooden door to her home and had her guests walk in first.

 “Welcome home! Make yourself comfortable.” Portia opened her arms wide and embraced Julian and Luna. “Look at Luna! She is growing so fast.” Portia pinched her cheek gently and kissed her forehead. Portia adored Luna with all her heart. She was elated to be asked to be Luna's godmother and would continue to be the coolest aunt and godmother Luna ever had.

“It's good to see you too, sister.” Julian let Luna down onto the nearby couch, the girl immediately tipping over on her side and kicking her tiny legs.

 “I brought you something, Portia.” Jenna held up the bag as Portia inspected the bag before smelling it. “Oh! It's pumpkin bread. You shouldn't have.” Portia took the bag and leaned closer to Jenna, “Really you shouldn't have. I might eat this whole thing in one sitting. But I won't. I promise.” Jenna laughed. “Let's cut it up and give some to Luna. She is pretty hungry.” Portia looked over at Luna, “Her and I are starving. Let's get this party started.”

It was decided that Jenna and Portia would cut the bread while Julian took care of Luna, who was st the moment spinning her in the air and laughing. The two girls smiled fondly at the scene. Portia began to expertly cut the bread with her handy bread knife.

“Julian is so much happier now that he has you and Luna. Thank you for making him happy. He deserves it.” Jenna shook her head, “I should be thanking him. He has made me the happiest I have ever been. He is a terrific father.” She grabbed the slices and placed them on a large ceramic plate. I am so lucky to have Julian in my life. Luna had made us even closer thanks to her. Jenna thought fondly. Portia cut the last slice of bread and placed it on the plate.

“Let's eat!” Portia spoke enthusiastically, walking ahead making funny faces at Luna who giggled hysterically. Jenna placed the slices of pumpkin bread on the dark mahogany table. Luna tummy grumbled.

“You hungry, little one?” said Portia.

 “Mhmm!” replied Luna.

 “Okay, I will feed you.” Portia rushed to the kitchen and returned with a small knife and began to cut smaller pieces for Luna. Jenna and Julian sat side by side, their hands intertwined as they talked away and ate the fresh pumpkin bread. They watched Portia feed Luna. She was not only attuned with animals but children as well. Portia always had a way with Luna and neither Jenna nor Julian could understand.

  “Here comes the carriage, Luna~” Portia held a piece of pumpkin bread in front of Luna. She opened her mouth and Portia popped the bread in her mouth. It took some time for Luna to chew but once she did, she smiled. “You like the taste of it?” said Portia. Luna silently nodded her head and grabbed a piece from Portia's before shoving it in her mouth. “Be careful! Luna. Take your time.” Portia fretted. She watched Luna for a couple more minutes before finally eating her portion of the pumpkin loaf.

Jenna, Portia, and Julian spoke for hours. None of them noticed until the sun was setting. Jenna and Julian stood up.

 “I think it's time we leave. It's getting dark,” said Jenna regretfully. She never liked leaving this place.

  “Stay the night. I insist.” Portia pleaded. It was hard to resist those eyes of her. Like a puppy asking for a treat, Jenna could see how Luna adopted this look from. Julian and Jenna looked at one another and nodded, as of they reach each other's mind.

“Ok, we shall stay for the night.” said Julian who reached down to kiss Jenna's cheek. Jenna lifted his hand and kissed the back of it. Portia not noticing the intimate moment raised her arms in joy and ran over to Luna.

“We are going to have our first sleepover, Luna. Isn't that exciting?” Luna looked at Portia with confusion but her grey eyes danced with curiosity and sleepiness. It's a good idea we agreed to this. Luna looks tired. Portia noticing this cardled Luna in her arms and sat on the couch. Julian stepped into the room as he loosened his collar. “Luna is a tough one to fall asleep. It takes time.” Portia raised an eyebrow at her brother. “Challenge accepted. If I can put Luna to be in under thirty minutes, you owe me a mini loaf of pumpkin bread.” Julian laughed. “A deal's a deal,” he said.

Julian and Jenna left the living room for the spare bedroom. The two got changed into some spare clothing and began to retire for the night. Julian began pacing in the room, looking at his pocket watch from time to time. He hated losing a bet by his sister. Amused, Jenna walked over and wrapped her arms around Julian's waist to stop his pacing. Julian wrapped his arms around her and brushed the knots from her long brown hair. Jenna was a wonderful distraction for Julian who always had his head swimming in thoughts. She brushed her thumb across his cheek, the gentle touch was enough to distract him for a brief moment.

  “Julian, rest easy. Luna is in good hands.”

“I know, but I don't want to lose the bet. Jenna raised her brow, “Really? Come on Julian, it's a simple bet. Let's get some rest.” Julian sighed and nodded. “Not before I check on them first. Then I will go to bed.” The two quietly opened the door and walked down the hallway into the living room. To no one's surprise Luna was quiet and fast asleep. What did surprise them was Portia sound asleep too. Julian and Jenna couldn't help but smile at the scene. Grabbing a blanket, Jenna draped the blanket over Portia and Luna. They didn't budge one bit. Julian came over to the couch and kissed his sister and daughters forehead, wishing them a silent goodnight.

  Julian didn't care about the bet. Not when his family looked so happy and peaceful. Nothing could bring him as much happiness than the love of his life and his precious Luna.

[striptae]

Scenario: Christmas with BTS

Genre fluff/smut

Warnings: smut

Im sorry this is late but my phone had some issues with tumblr. I hope you enjoy :)

Namjoon

You two had spent the day just walking around the city in the morning, getting a coffee at namjoons favorite coffee shop It was all great until Namjoon decided that he wanted to bake cookies. Since you were reading a novel and you really weren’t in the mood to bake you told Namjoon to just bake cookies by himself.

Later on you realised that was probably a bad idea as you had to save the poor boy from burning the whole kitchen down. Only 10 minutes after he was annoying you again with these cookies he wanted to bake. You looked up from the book, sighing “Is there any way to make you shut up about those shitty cookies?”. A smirk crept onto Namjoons face: “I do know one babe.” He took the book out of your hand placing it on the table behind him. “In fact I know something that’d taste even better than these cookies.” Gasping you stood up and hit his chest “You`re such a pervert!” Namjoon simply smirked and pulled you against his chest, clashing his lips onto yours. Only a moment later you were standing in just your bra and panties, your boyfriends lips attached to your neck, leaving purple marks all over it.  

Seokjin

After you finished grocery shopping in the morning you two started to bake cookies in the kitchen. The situation escalated when Jin decided to start a foodfight, pouring the whole bag of flour over your head while you were rolling out the cookie dough. You screamed and then fought back by throwing one of the eggs at him. The whole kitchen was a huge mess after and you doomed your boyfriend to clean it up while you were taking a shower to get the sticky flour-egg mixture out of your hair.

Now the floor in the living room was covered in wrapping paper and the room was dark except for the sparkling lights on the Christmas tree and the light of the TV screen. Your families had already left an hour ago and now you were cuddled up in a blanket, your head resting on Seokjins lap who brushed through your hair with his long fingers, his concentration on the movie playing. Your eyes were fixated on your boyfriends face, admiring his beautiful features. Suddenly you sat up straight looking into your boyfriends eyes wich held a confused expression. “I love you Jin.” His expression softened and he pulled you onto his lap, placing his forehead against yours. “I love you too” his lips moved over yours and you placed your hands on his cheeks while deepening the kiss even further. Jins hands moved under your hoodie soon, undoing your bra while you moved your hips on his slowly hardening dick, your boyfriend moaning softly into the dark and quiet room.

Yoongi

You woke up due to light kisses that were pressed onto your neck. You tried to push your boyfriend away but he just tightened his grip around your waist. “I can’t, I really need you right now.” His voice sounded embarassed and when you turned your head half confused, half annoyed your eyes first fell onto the blush on his cheeks and then scanned further down until you percieved rather big tent in Yoongis sweatpants. The laugh that escaped your lips was soon muffled by his lips and that way the day was already off to a good start. Christmas was a rather lazy day for both of you, the Christmas tree had been set up already and you spent most of the time in your bed sleeping and making out some more.

“Aish, Y/N wake up!” you grumbled and pulled the blanket over your head. Yoongi sighed and all of a sudden he stopped shaking you and ripped the blanket off your body. “WAKE UP, ITS CHRISTMAS AND WE HAVE TO BE AT YOUR PARENTS HOME IN LIKE 30 MINUTES!!”

Hoseok

Snow was falling outside the window when you woke up on Christmas morning. After breakfast you two went out to go buy a Christmastree and some colourful baubles. As soon as you arrived home you two started to decorate the tree, hanging up the baubles and attaching a light string. Later on, Hoseok and you went to a nice little restaurant where you were meeting up with some friends, chatting and having dinner.

You got home pretty late but still decided that you wanted to celebrate Christmas together. Currently you were sitting on the fluffy white carpet next to the Christmas tree, unwrapping the gift your boyfriend had given you. A smile creeped up his face as he saw your face lighten up and a scream left your mouth. You jumped up, running towards your sitting boyfriend, placing your hands on his soulders and kissing him passionately. Hoseok seemed a little overwhelmed at first but then he returned the kiss with the same force and put his arms around your waist to pull you onto his lap. You were able to feel his bulge through the red sweatpants he was wearing and soon you were lying on the couch, moaning your boyfriends name while he thrusted into you.

Jimin

Both of you were digging that one TV series so you just had to finish that one season the night before Christmas. You really were bored the next day so you made Jimin go shopping for clothes with you. At first the poor, tired boy really wasn’t motivated but soon the both of you were trying all kinds of clothes laughing at how dumb the other looked and taking tons of stupid pictures. Jimin sent all of them into the BTS groupchat making the other members vote for the ugliest sweater of the day. In the end it was Hoseok, Jin, Taehyung and Jungkook voting for your sweater so Jimin had to buy you those sweets he really hated.

As soon as you arrived back home you started to decorate the Christmas tree while Jimin was wrapping his gifts in the bedroom. After you finished decorating the tree you went over to the bedroom, knocking onto the door. When no one responded you opened the door, catching sight of the wrapped presents on the floor and your boyfriend lying on the bed, sleeping. You silently approached him and crawled on top of him. Jimins eyes shot open the moment you settled yourself onto his lap. You giggled as you felt the bulge in your boyfriends pants while he just groaned. Smirking you started to teasingly move your hips and a deep groan left his mouth as he swiftly turned the two of you around, burrying your small frame beneath his bigger one.

Taehyung

The night before Christmas you two had watched two movies and afterwards Taehyung had forced you to play games with him. Most of the time he was the winner but it was still funny so you kind of lost track of time a little bit, resulting in you two oversleeping on the morning of Christmas.

Later that day you two got into the car to take on the two hour ride over to your parents. Taehyung got something to eat for both of you on the way there and you two were both constantly singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio so you had quite a fun time. You two were the last ones to arrive at the Christmas party, all your relatives already there. While you were talking to your mother in the kitchen you saw a smiling taehyung playing with your little five year old cousin a reindeer headband on his head. It was probably the cutest scene ever and you just had to record it. Your little cousin was running away, laughing of joy while tae chased after him. You put your jacket on the hanger and Taehyung put his black shoes next to his gucci slippers. “Im so tired” you yawned and turned around to walk into the living room. Your boyfriend stopped you by putting his hands around your waist and starting to kiss your neck. “Taee”, you whined, “i really am tired.” He ignored you and started to suck on your neck. You eventually gave in and laid your head to the left to grant him better access. “I am serious, i really want to sleep” you moaned half heartedly. Your boyfriend stopped. “Well then why dont you let me do the whole work?” He then picked you up bridal style and carried you through the living room before dropping you onto the bed.

Jungkook

You two set up the Christmas tree a night before Christmas, eating pizza while doing so. Somehow Jungkook had convinced you to go play bowling with him and Yugyeom the next morning and you just lost terribly in the beginning. Jungkook nearly fell off his chair because he had been laughing too hard at your failure and you hit him probably a thousand times while Yugyeom just looked at you two shaking his head, smiling. But you got better the longer you played and even managed to do a strike in the end. By the time that the three of you left the mall it had started to snow and after you bid goodbye to Yugyeom your boyfriend and you had quite a snowball fight, resulting in the both of you being covered in snow.

As soon as you arrived home, you ran through the falling snow almost slipping a few times. You arrived at the door before your boyfriend, taking off your shoes and hanging up your jacket. You were just about to walk off, turning around at the sound of the door shutting close behind your boyfriends back “Jungkook we still need to-” you stopped as soon as you saw the dark look in his piercing eyes, swallowing. He didn`t even hesistate to take off his jacket, suddenly pressing his hungry lips onto yours, your theeth clashing together. His tongue entered your mouth roughly, your hands entangled in his hair while he pushed you backwards until your back met the wall.

- Seagull 1

Masterlist

[black-dianthus]

Alexandra Wallace Smith's Idea of Privacy

My sister is striking. All the ladies in our family are. My Aunt Magdalene was remarkably excellent as well. They have firecracker characters. Daddy, you know, you of all comprehend my rushed notes, the diaries that I have kept from youth proceeded to past, the diary, the dismissed novel, the retribution, the sonnets that I've written, lost, that time and vitality and sense of self overlooked. At that point there are the dark Croxley scratch pad. I am resolved to get that far from you, and from the remainder of the world for good.

Muirhead injured me. I consider every one of his ladies in the workplace space in Johannesburg before I got back home to my youth home in Port Elizabeth scared to death of falling pregnant. Having a kid with only one parent present. Turning into a solitary parent and bringing up a kid all alone with almost no cash. I barely brought in any cash or had a pay to help a kid. How they ensured him, chuckled at his jokes, how they set him up in place of worship, how they adored him, how they sat inverse him in extravagant Johannesburg cafés drinking their cabernet or merlot. Thinking ladies, lovely ladies, ladies with youth, naivety and sexual naiveté (in spite of the fact that the sexual motivation, the sexual drive was there) on their side. How he short of breath stitch up as though they're electric dolls. I warmed up the livers, mushrooms and bacon, the extras, mixed the eggs and tuned in to the morning news on the radio. The transport rolling in from Port Elizabeth to Johannesburg had flipped into the air off the roadway. There were no fatalities. The plums were delicious and sweet. I would spare them for lunch. I sat at the kitchen table, buttered my toast, drank my tepid espresso, folded my legs, scratched my knee absentmindedly and gazed out of the window. The morning meal's oil was adhered to the container. I could forget about it. What's more, the more mindful I happened to the sky, the earth, the inner, the more mindful I was the fate of who made the innovation, vision, dream, objective, and end of this line of sky, of blue, of this author, this tormented artist, this winged animal?

I felt his hand personally as though it was a fantasy and afterward nothing. I felt embarrassed.

The fantasy young lady subsequent to leaving Johannesburg transformed into a lady. She got back to the coast, to her dad's home, her mom's kitchen, her mom's shrewdness and the seats of her youth proceeded, to the specialty of a heart fixed. She got back to the coast where water could be found in wild places, where tides were liable to change, to where she spent radiant blue hours gazing up at the sky. She had her books. Her pointer would wait on the spine in her dad's terrific examination, his library, and his 'London experience'. The house was haggard. It was bad. The tiles were tumbling odd in the kitchen. The dividers required a lick of paint. The insides needed fix. The entire house should have been revamped. The fantasy young lady had returned. The fantasy young lady was additionally resolved to change. She likewise needed to be chivalrous, saintly and enchanted.

Expounding on pain is one of the most troublesome things I have ever needed to do. Nerves I could comprehend as I remained before them however what I truly needed to do was escape. Everyone consistently talks about the supernatural occurrence of life at a memorial service Loose Diamonds. At the point when demise visits there is no dread about examining what music to play when the final resting place is brought down, what songs will be played, what refrain will be perused out of the holy book, and who will make the potato serving of mixed greens.

Sea of dabs. Not intended to keep going long in this lifetime or the following. The individuals of South Africa are that way. My town is a stately town loaded up with chapel individuals. In Central you will locate the best young ladies on the planet. They will disconnect themselves from women's liberation, and the tigers that come around evening time, their adversaries in a limited time and spot. They are well-to-do. Medications have obliterated the very specialty of their spirit. Each gram of their spirits have died. Muirhead. Tissue have preceded you and after. The most splendid pieces of you divided off like work areas in an office space. Reveal to me all that you need me to be I would have said in my twenties. This doesn't need to be its finish however it is. It is. What's more, still I state let it not be so. So funny. So awful. I remain in this ice house. In this house from hellfire. Pale. The inceptions of purposeful misdirection, the enormous bloodlines of my creative mind, can be seen through the exemplification and course of events of my tissue.

Paper meager skating on ice is the thing that I've longed for as long as I can remember. Not to fizzle, not to separate, however to make craftsmanship in the scene of self-destructive sadness and disease. All verse and fitting retribution appears to ask of us is to have a decided desire forever. I despite everything need to acquaint myself with ceremonies that I found so soothing in adolescence. Norma Jean where are you, where do you get yourself now, who are you and what is that brilliant reflection gazing back at you? Is there much else enticing than franticness, than being blonde and being wanted by the world everywhere, to hush up about your way of thinking on life, your destitute desire to be an author and a writer? To win like you have prevailed Norma Jean is to giggle even with people, of presidents, of women's activists, to snicker notwithstanding the difficulty that they have confronted. Regardless of how short, how singular delight is one can't get away from its direness, its survival reference, that stain of affection regardless of how incredible and new it may be, the way reduced it may cause you to feel at long last, you will find that that experience was justified, despite all the trouble. I left the franticness and the warmth of the city behind me in my mid twenties. It will leave you flawlessly developed at this point.

The universe is better, cleaner, more fair and I am less spooky, less ghostlike, less straightforward, astounded by forswearing. I can't delete the valuable of life any longer and its delicacy. How squashed and frozen my soul used to be. Am I, was I actually truly cherished? The ladies around me throughout everyday life, in the working environment, in the circle of close family were reflective accomplices. I am extremely tired of expounding on want and that is the reality of the situation in light of the fact that here and there it is powerful similar to scrapbooking on anything on the inked interwoven planet that you live in. I've become a crude lady in green spaces, green banquets of them, and establishments of winter trees of them. I've become an innovation of a contemporary lady. The creation of the width of the string of the other lady in a land that time overlooked. What are the verses again to that melody? What are the lines that time overlooked in that diary on those cool, brutal blue, blue lines? I am worn out on taking care of the monsters aplenty however mustn't heavenly attendants consistently be safeguarded? Who or what basically characterizes a blessed messenger? A blessed messenger is the inconspicuous, the undetectable great and no one can design your mind like God can.

What's more, what is want truly? Smoke and nectar in the move of outrage, closeness, trickery and duplicity and the everlasting fixation of each one of those things. It is intended for the gamine, the ethereal, and the extraordinary, the mystical young lady. The juvenile. Kids are intended for ladies and what happens when you like expounding on death. For me I esteem remarks on death, on endlessness, on the heaven of paradise, the awareness thinking in unrealistic reasoning, the inquisitive animals that well of lava individuals are and the numerous essences of holy people. I've generally had confidence in holy messengers. The living continue living while the dead go to tidy. There's a bleak throbbing, a canvas on which to play on, the frightful hurt in my sibling's spirit is a similar hurt which I have in my own. There's an apparition country in my mind. The schools, the rooms, and the entirety of the white walled insides of my creative mind. Furthermore, on the off chance that I close my eyes I can envision the entirety of our shapes and the blue sharp light filled the pens of the glorious sky. The darling and the mother and the suffocating bloom that was me. Soil swimming-swimming in a watery spool genetic supply of garbage. The passing of a pet and a writer painting this slippery world with clear idea designs.

Does rot, blood and the dim each get desolate and the husband to be with the implicit enthusiasm he has for his lady of the hour? The lady of the hour in her married euphoria. In her incomprehensible high-obeyed shoes. So I was there in soul. In the event that fish kissed oxygen they would clearly kick the bucket. Their pomegranate gills snuffed out of presence. What are the grains of neediness? Where do they lay? Is it true that they are sequestered? Their spirits lie in South Africa, maybe even flourish there. Roots taking advantage of the life of the dirt, the way of life of the earth, taking advantage of the heaviness of water, or foulness (whichever it arrives from the outset in light of the current situation), saving the delicacy of phones as life floats, vague web-based media is the new attractive, taking advantage of profound destitution, the graveyards of neediness, of the bone-tired. What pleasantness! The obscure accompanies expectation. The expectation of the attention to amaze and according to society. Where does my spirit lie? It lay with you for some time I presume. Satisfied lady of the hour, uninvolved lady, excellence meeting the lovely center of a manly character, and the physical body of a strange wellspring of the knowledge of something contrary to sexuality.