#it's okay it's okay i can be chill about this. someday my prince (or princess) will come /j

[practically-an-x-man]

not me catching feelings for one of my castmates...

[ichigo-daifuku]

See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil [3]

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! Pairing: Diavolo/F!Reader Genre: Soulmate AU, Fake Relationship (?), Misunderstandings, Fluff, Angst, Smut

Synopsis: During a confrontation between Diavolo and a certain witch who harbors unrequited feelings for him, he declares his intention to ask you to stand beside him in reigning over the Devildom someday. You conclude only one logical explanation for the insanity he uttered: this is his way of discouraging the witch from being so persistent. Although clueless, you play along and become ‘lovers’ with him.

Inevitably, your existing attraction for Diavolo grows, but the distinction between truth and lies, the crisscrossed lines of the right and the wrong, and the question of what’s real and what isn’t, begin to plague your mind and stir up trouble for your relationship with him with each passing day.

Entangled within the woven threads of soulmates and a royal prophecy, this is the story of the Demon Prince and his future Queen: you.

1 | 2 | 3 Chapter 3: Speak No Evil Word Count: 5.6k

“Welcome, my lady.”

The staff at the Demon Lord’s Castle greeted you with dutiful bows. If they were surprised at the punctuality of your arrival, they showed no signs of it and ushered you inside. As per your previous visits, they were all cordial. Most of them even looked excited, and you felt a pang of guilt for deceiving them all this time.

Originally, the demon brothers had planned for your grand arrival with all seven of them escorting you to the ballroom. Due to your change of plans, however, you made excuses and admitted you had matters to discuss with Diavolo before the celebratory ball, intentionally leaving out any specifics. You persuaded them by divulging your plan of handing Diavolo the baked goods you prepared as a gift. In the end, the demon brothers reluctantly relented. You patted yourself on the back for remaining firm despite your gratitude for the Seven Rulers of Hell. It was a difficult feat to accomplish.

The day after your conversation with Solomon, you headed to town and purchased an outfit for the celebratory ball on your own rather than using those hanging on the racks of the prophesied Queen’s closet at the Demon Lord’s Castle. It was the first step in your departure from your role as the faux Queen. While browsing at one of your favorite boutiques, you found a red embroidered evening gown that completely covered your back and was zipped from the side. It was simpler than any of the formalwear in the Queen’s closet, but it wasn’t as if you would be at the party to impress anyone nor enjoy yourself.

It would be the last time you would pretend to be Diavolo’s other half. After this event, everything would be over.

A bittersweet feeling flooded your chest, but when you looked back at the moments you shared with Diavolo, you were unable to deny the truth to yourself: you’d do it all again if you could.

Your high heels click-clacked on the polished floor as you approached Diavolo’s study. Before anything else, you peeked inside and only entered the room once you found it empty. You shut the door and went over to his desk. The kisses you shared with him the other day were still fresh in your mind. In a span of a few days, your circumstances with him had completely changed. It was strange to stand in the same place with that realization gnawing at your gut.

Gingerly, you set the pastry box on Diavolo’s table, pulled a sticky note from his tall stack, and wrote a short thank you note for him. A small sense of finality washed over you as you signed your name and placed it on the box. It was cowardly of you to give him your gift like this, but once you’d told him you’d end this charade with him, he might decline it. You were already hurting, and as much as possible, you wanted to lessen the impact of his rejection.

After leaving his study and roaming around the castle, Diavolo remained nowhere in sight. You took a wild guess and went to the gazebo, a tinge of dread in your steps when you found out you were right. As tall and regal as he was during the first time you saw him, he stood and gazed at the lake, its tranquility one with its beholder.

“Diavolo,” you called.

“Hello there.” He turned his head to look at you, his lips breaking into a smile. “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you replied and moved forward, taking in the sight of him in formalwear. “You look great, as always.”

“You flatter me.”

“It’s the truth.” Once you reached the gazebo, you stayed at the threshold, ready to leave once you had said what you needed to tell him. “By the way, I left something for you in your study.”

“A gift?”

“That’s right. Some pastries. I baked them myself.”

“Let’s eat them together later. We can have our own after-party.”

“No, I made them for you. And we’ll get full at the banquet, won’t we?”

“There’s always room for dessert.” He laughed at his own quip and gestured over the lake. “Why don’t you stand beside me? The view is quite splendid.”

“It’s fine. I can admire it from afar.” Unwavering, you remained rooted at your spot. The lake was majestic, but it wasn’t what you were here for tonight. You hid your shaky hands behind your back and fiddled with your fingers, taking a deep breath as you returned your complete attention to Diavolo. “I have something to tell you. It’s important.”

“You can tell me anything, my princess.”

“I’m sorry, Diavolo,” you said, “but let’s end this.”

A long pause passed before he clarified with uncertainty, “The party?”

“Not that. I meant this—whatever’s between us—let’s end it.”

“What? Why? Have I done something to displease you?” Diavolo interrogated, his entire demeanor shifting into a panicked one. He stepped closer to you, but you retreated and exited the gazebo entirely. It dawned on him: his pursuit would cause you to fall further back. A grim expression on his face, he came to a halt and demanded, “Tell me.”

“No, Diavolo. Far from it,” you confessed with a sad smile. “You’re the Prince of the Devildom, and you’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.”

“If so, then what’s the problem?”

“I’m in love with you.”

“And?”

And? That’s all he has to say? you thought bitterly, hurt your confession warranted such a lackluster reaction. “I can’t keep doing this when there’s someone else meant to be by your side.”

Diavolo stiffened. “Someone… else…?”

“Yes. I can’t pretend to be the Queen in the prophecy anymore. I love you. A lot. And it’s hurting me, so please, let’s end this.”

Instead of replying, Diavolo kept quiet.

Unable to take his silence any longer, you averted your gaze and proceeded to wrap up the conversation. “I’ve said what I wanted to say. I’ll attend the party. You’re free to clarify this tonight or I can pretend to be your Queen one last time, whichever works for you. But please make sure to clear up the misunderstanding in the future.”

“You’re under the impression,” he paused and let out a laugh in an icy tone you’d never heard from him before, “that we’re pretending to be together?”

Chills ran down your spine. The question he uttered made you more nervous than you ever were tonight. Diavolo’s deep voice dripped with realization, incredulity, but most of all, rage.

You were in trouble.

“You’re right. There’s been a misunderstanding.” He let out a menacing laugh and strode in your direction. Instinctively, you attempted to put space between the two of you, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you close to him, wrapping both of his arms around your waist so quickly you didn’t have the chance to step away and flee. “All the times you said you were happy, whenever you told me you were looking forward to seeing me, when you agreed we looked like a great couple, you weren’t lying.”

“I wasn’t,” you acknowledged, your tense body gradually going lax at his touch. The familiar scent of his cologne made your mind hazy as you breathed in. “I’ve been in love with you for a while now. I might have pretended to be your lover, but I’ve been true to you. That’s why we have to end this.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” Diavolo bent his head and whispered in your ear, “I never lie, did you know?”

You didn’t.

His words prompted your head to swirl with scenes of your interactions, one of them standing out among the rest.

“So, that day… when Maddi confronted us about the prophecy,” you paused, your eyes wide as you tilted your head to meet his gaze, “y-you meant every word you said?”

“Yes, you’re the one for me. The only one,” he declared, embracing you tighter. “Shall I prove it to you?”

Once the question left his lips, Diavolo’s eyes glowed, and the next thing you knew, the sights around you shifted from the gazebo to the Queen’s closet. He refused to let you go, and you were faintly aware you were in the corner of the room as your hips nudged the wooden edge of the grand vanity table. Fortunately, the surface was vacant since all the cosmetics remained in the drawers, or else they would have already toppled on the floor.

Diavolo asked, “Do you know what’s on your back?”

“How did you—”

“I saw. When we had breakfast together, during that day when you agreed to pretendto be my lover.” His fingers brushed the nape of your neck and slid down to your spine, his large palm resting over your back. “Do you know what’s written here?”

“My soulmark.”

“It’s more special than that.”

“How come?”

“Have you seen it?”

You shook your head. “I’ve never dared to. I don’t like it... and I’m… scared of it.”

“Do you like me?”

“I love you.”

“Are you scared of me?”

“No.”

“If that’s the case, there’s no need for you to dislike or be scared of your mark.”

As he had revealed to you moments ago, Diavolo never lied. You trusted him. If he was certain he was your soulmate, you had nothing to fear. “Okay, but I have to remove my dress, so if you will, the door is that way.”

Diavolo released you with a quiet laugh. A familiar mischievous smile played on his lips, he shook his head. Determinedly, he reasoned, “I can’t afford any more misunderstandings with you.”

Instead of leaving, he moved and settled down a few steps within your reach. He gave you free rein over the space in front of the mirror and crossed his arms, waiting.

Conceding, you sighed and shook your head in exasperation. There was no way you could convince him to leave. You raised your fingers to pull the zipper from your side, but the eyes trained on you were too intense, you almost turned—if not for the fact you’d still see him admiring your actions from the mirror which, strangely, felt more intimate. Averting your gaze, you stripped out of your evening gown. You thought of making your way to the chaise and laying down your outfit on it, but your hands felt too shaky, and your feet felt too cold. The crimson cloth slipped away from your fingers and pooled on the floor.

Donned only in your lingerie, you were exposed, and your back was ready for your revelation. Fear threatened you to put an end to this mess through flight, but your trust and affection for the man standing in front of you led you to fight this fear and face it head-on.

And then, on your own volition, you finally looked at what was imprinted on your back: the soulmark you once resented but now gave you hope and promise.

Once you saw it, you felt grateful for your unknowingly wise decision of hiding it from everyone who asked about it in the human world.

“No way…” you murmured, unable to tear your gaze from your back’s reflection.

Three numbers were written vertically over your spine:

6 6 6

Diavolo approached you, his arm moving past your waist and resting on the table. He tilted his head to the side, and like you, openly gazed at your soulmark’s reflection in the mirror. His fingertip traced over the numbers, one after another, earning a soft gasp from you. “You know what this means, yes?”

You did.

The Devil’s Number.

Devil.

Diavolo.

Speechless, you turned your face and stared at him, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“Do you honestly believe I could be this good at pretending to be in love with you?” Diavolo questioned and gave you a kiss on your forehead. “You think too highly of me.”

“Do you really… love me?” you whispered.

“Listen well, my princess,” Diavolo embraced you and stroked your hair. “I love you.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks, dampening his suit, but neither of you cared. “The prophecy…”

“It’s about you.”

“So, all this time…”

He sighed and grimaced. “Yes.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

“I am,” he said, releasing you to wipe your tears with his thumbs. “Don’t think I’m letting you get away with it.”

Diavolo cradled your cheeks and bent his head to kiss you. After you decided to break things off with him, you had accepted you’d never be as close to him as you were before, but here you were. Eyes closed, you basked in his affection, which you now know was true and meant only for you. Despite the anger he admitted to, the sensation of his lips on yours was warm and forgiving. When you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulled him closer, and deepened your kisses, the soft sigh that escaped his lips was all you needed to know he was relieved. It put him at ease that you loved him and weren’t going to leave him. It was a sentiment that mirrored yours.

Breathless, he leaned back and met your heated gaze. The crackling tension between the two of you grew from powerful to electrifying, a telltale sign of a singular ending to this encounter. It was a resolution you never dared to consider when you entered this castle tonight, but it was one you had no complaints about. He needed this—needed you—and you’d be damned if you were going to let this end like it did last time.

“Will you indulge me?” His fingers grazed your mark once more as he took the clasp of your bra between them and unhooked it in one go. “Rather, would you indulge in me, my princess?”

“Here? Now? The celebratory ball is going to start soon,” you teased, tugging his bow tie with your index finger and unfastening it.

“Our unfinished business is more important,” Diavolo reminded you, his suit jacket falling on top of your dress. You unbuttoned his shirt and brushed your lips on his collarbone, the tip of your tongue teasing his exposed skin. He sighed and continued, “You have no idea what you do to me. I’ve wanted you for so long, but it seems my feelings didn’t come across properly. I’ll make it so you’ll never have any doubts about us ever again.”

Diavolo guided you to sit on the dresser and began kissing your neck, freshening the faded lovebites he had made and adding more as he caressed your breasts with his palms and dragged his thumbs over your hardening buds. His ministrations were languid and tender, but every contact with his mouth and fingers left you squirming, eager for him to quicken his pace and pay attention to where you needed him the most.

“When you first arrived here, I just knew… I have to have you all to myself,” he confessed.

As his lips reached your abdomen, Diavolo went down on one knee. To you, he looked like a knight receiving an accolade from his monarch; as if the vanity table was your throne, and he was promising himself to you. Perhaps, it would be more appropriate to liken him to the prince who had finally found his elusive Cinderella. But perhaps not—as unlike that prince, he was removing your high heels and setting them aside. Desire and reverence filled his eyes as he tilted his head and stared at your bare form, your chest rising and falling in anticipation. 

“Now, everyone’s going to know you're mine,” he vowed, hooking your panties at the side and sliding them down your legs, “including you.”

Your mouth parted in a soundless groan as Diavolo kissed the inside of your knees.

“What do you say, my princess?”

Anticipation pooled at the pit of your stomach. A slow, coquettish smile made its way on your lips. Above all else, you wanted him to know you were eager for this as much as he was—that you desired him as much as he desired you. You raised your legs and beckoned him closer by spreading them and letting your calves and feet rest over his wide shoulders. “Show me.”

He smirked, pleased with your answer. Wordlessly, he kissed and nipped at the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. Tilting his head lower, his warm breath ghosted over the apex of your legs, his lips hovering over your sex. The first swipe of his tongue was gentle. He let you familiarize yourself with the sensation before he licked you where it was the most pleasurable. When he did, the sharp inhale you took didn’t escape his notice. He knew what he was doing, flicking his tongue and sucking at that little bundle of nerves with the right amount of pressure, in the way you never knew you wanted it. His index and middle finger over the sides of your entrance, his tongue plunged inside you. It triggered a sudden movement of your hips, but he held you in place and steadied you with his other hand, his ministrations never faltering, coaxing a diminutive moan out of your lips.

“You hear that?” he murmured, pertaining to the sound the shallow thrust of his middle finger made. Those three words sent a pleasurable wave from his lips to your groin, making you curl your toes and your back arch against the mirror. “We’ve only just begun, and you’re already so wet for me.”

“Stop teasing me so much,” you whined. You reached out to brush his hair and thread your fingers between its strands, but at the quickening pace of his hand, you ended up tugging at his locks instead.

“It’s because you’re holding back,” Diavolo pointed out with a soft chuckle. He peered at your face and waited for your reaction as he added a second—and soon, a third—finger into the mix. “Let me hear you. I know you can be louder than that.”

Even if you wanted to subdue the gratified noises threatening to fill the room, you were helpless against his earnest pursuit of your peak. He pumped his fingers in and out of you over and over, making you cry out as you reveled in the sensation of your release. At a rhythmless pace, your hips shifted against his face once more, only this time he let you ride out and enjoy the most out of your climax.

Diavolo might be all refined, dignified, and gentlemanly, but now that you had brought out the lascivious side of him—the raw and sinful part of him he kept in the dark to many—he was relentless. He straightened his body and licked his damp lips, savoring your taste. It was a look that told you that there was more to come—that he had more to give.

Eyes bleary, you were faintly aware of it as Diavolo stood. You did likewise, albeit unsteadily, and allowed him to turn your body around. With a light press of his palm over your back, he inclined you downward. Your fingers grasped the edge of the table, and the vision of your flushed state connected with your eyes in the glass. Above your likeness, Diavolo’s reflection smirked at you. Then and there, your earlier thoughts about him admiring you from the mirror were proven correct: everything about this was intimate, enthralling, and insanely sensual.

Diavolo pressed his lips on the numbers on your spine, and your legs wobbled as you shivered. He held you by the waist, his torso perfectly fitting over your back as his other hand worked on his trousers and guided himself near your fluttering entrance, the tip touching you but not entering. His lips tickled your ear, and he dragged them across the lobe and tugged at it. With a soft but demanding voice, he urged you, “Say it.”

Still in a daze from your climax but covetous of another, you were ready to do whatever he wanted you to do. “Say what?”

“Say you’re mine.” He nudged his length between your sensitive folds. He felt so good, and you knew he was going to feel even better once he was inside you.

“I’m yours,” you vowed, shifting your lower half to sheathe him. “I’m yours—only yours! Now, please Diavolo!”

He was delivering what he had promised earlier, showing you how you were his. At the same time, you wanted him to show you he was yours, too. Yearning to be connected to him in some way, you turned your head to meet his lips with your own. Instead of replying with words, he slipped his tongue past your mouth and kissed you deeper. He gripped your hips and eased himself inside your core.

Startled, you pulled your lips away and faced forward with a soft gasp. Although you had an idea of his size and girth from your foreplay, he still felt more than you expected. He was only halfway in, and yet, you were already biting your lower lip to suppress a pleasured scream from coming out of you.

His pace was tantalizingly unhurried. Again and again, he drew back and thrust inside you—only to stop midway. 

It was frustrating. You were capable of taking all of him, and you knew it.

“Harder,” you pleaded, “Do it harder… Please!”

With a kiss on your shoulder, he chuckled and replied, “As you wish, my princess.”

He gave you what you asked for and eased himself fully inside you. Once you accommodated his length, your eyes fluttered closed reflexively. Yes, this was it. This was exactly what you needed. Your breath hitched as he slowly drew back until his tip remained in your entrance, and in a second, he plunged inside you again. “Y-Yes, just like… like that.”

Diavolo groaned, increasing his pace. His fingers dug at your hips, and the erotic sound of skin slapping filled your ears. He leaned back and let out a low hum of appreciation as you took every inch of him perfectly. His voice strained and lacking its usual composure, he remarked, “Feels even better than I imagined.”

Well, damn.

The image of him touching himself to the thought of you was enough to make you shudder with arousal, but the pleasure of having him, in reality, was beyond any vision your mind could conjure up. You clenched around him, coaxing a grunt and a loud moan from his parted lips. He gritted his teeth and tightly shut his eyes, the rhythm he had set gradually turning rougher.

“Fuck!” you moaned, “Diavolo, I… I-I’m gonna—”

He sensed it. His pace refused to falter, and you reached your climax within seconds. You witnessed how much of a mess you turned to in the mirror, but you couldn’t care less. It was Diavolo who made you this way, after all. Your arms and legs gave out as you shuddered, but he readily caught you before you could fall to the ground. 

Diavolo unsheathed himself from you and returned you to your seated position. He kissed your hair and shifted his lips near your ear. “More?”

“Y-Yes.”

Gently, he held one of your legs up and propped your ankle on his shoulder. His other hand clamped over your bent knee. He entered your slick heat, and this time, you were able to accommodate him at once.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praised, his golden eyes following the movement as he thrust in and out of you. “Good girl.”

For the third time tonight, he drove you over the edge, but your earlier climax caused your current race to the peak to be agonizing. You feel it dangling over you, but at the same time, it was out of your reach. Distressed, you exclaimed, “I can’t!”

“You can,” he countered, giving it to you harder, “and you will.”

The fervor in his promise remained inexorable, and the tremor in his voice hinted at his impending climax.

You grabbed his wrist and shifted your leg downward, determined. He realized what you were trying to do as you held your arms up and wrapped your legs around his hips. Chuckling, he lifted you up with ease and held you in his arms firmly. You threaded your fingers through his hair and kissed him. He gripped your thighs and slid you up and down his length, returning to the rough momentum you had moments ago in sought of the heat the both of you had built up.

Little by little, his pace turned uneven. His breathing was labored and warm against your skin. 

“I want to see you come,” you told him. The familiar coil in your abdomen unfurling, your voice grew louder as you cried out, “Fill me up, Diavolo. You’re mine.”

As soon as you said those words, euphoria washed over every fiber of your being. This was the highest you’d ever felt, and you were certain no feeling could compare to this. No other being could compare to him. Diavolo was the only one for you.

In a split second, his jaw slackened and his eyes closed, groaning unabashedly and calling out your name. He continued thrusting inside you, never sliding out he chased his own peak. Trembling, he throbbed and filled you up as you asked, the warm and wet liquid dribbling down the inside of your thighs with his final thrust.

Panting, the two of you remained still as you came down from your respective highs.

It was you who broke the silence a few moments later. “I love you.”

He smiled and stroked your hair. “I love you too, my princess.”

The tender moment was shattered by the sudden increase of temperature on your back. Pain derived from your soulmark and spread over to your shoulders and hips. It rapidly grew hotter until it was sweltering. Your whole body felt as if it was on fire. You couldn’t take it any longer.

“Diavolo!” you cried, “My back—it’s burning!”

The touch of his bare skin was comforting, and somehow, his presence alleviated the agony. However, the invisible fire grew more intense. You could do nothing but let out a scream on his shoulder and cling to him.

Diavolo hooked one of his arms under your knees and carried you to the connecting bathroom. He placed you in the bathtub and made sure your head rested on the area gently. As the cold water rose and filled the tub, he caressed your forearm and held your hand reassuringly.

Your throat felt parched, you couldn’t say anything although you longed to. 

He cupped your cheek and wiped the tears you were unaware you were shedding. “Shhh… It’ll be alright. I’m here. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll stay with you and...”

Before you could hear the rest of Diavolo’s words of comfort, everything had gone black.

Vivid visions of the past filled your dreams one after another. You had long heard of people having their life flash before their eyes before they pass away. Was this it? Were you dying? You hoped not. The images blurred and turned ambiguous as the heat you felt subsided.

And then, you returned to the waking world. Alive.

The cool wind from the open terrace doors nipped at your skin. Except for your exposed back, the rest of your body was warm, enveloped by the calming embrace of the man laying underneath you.

You slowly opened your eyes and blinked.

Diavolo turned his head to look at you. “You’re awake.”

Your fingers reached the fabric of the sleeveless nightdress you were wearing. Vaguely, you recognize it as one of the items in the closet next door. It was your first time wearing it.

“I dressed you. I hope you don’t mind,” Diavolo said.

“It’s fine.” You had shared more intimate moments to be embarrassed about something like that; it almost felt trivial. “Thank you for staying and taking care of me.”

“Of course.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost midnight. How are you feeling?”

Abruptly, you sat bolt upright. “Wait, what? And the celebratory ball?”

“It’s still ongoing, but you have nothing to worry about. More importantly, does your back still hurt?”

“No,” you replied after a brief pause, surprised at your own observation. You stretched your shoulders and bent your arm to reach over the small of your back to check. “It’s as if nothing happened.”

“Something did, actually. Something very important,” Diavolo informed you, his tone full of seriousness. “Your mark changed.”

“What do you mean it changed?”

It was the first time you heard of a soulmark morphing into another shape or form. Appearances of soulmarks were rare enough. As you mulled it over, however, you were quick to overcome the disbelief. When all was said and done, you and Diavolo were far from a regular pair of lovers. 

Diavolo sat up and took your hand in his. “Come, look.”

The spark of excitement and delight in his demeanor piqued your curiosity. His eagerness, though contagious, was patient. He led you to the bathroom at the pace you were most comfortable with. Given the events that transpired earlier, the last thing he wanted was to insist you advance quicker and push yourself too hard.

A giant mirror rested over the sink. Unlike before, you had no qualms nor nervous sentiments about looking over your back. The nightdress made it easy for you to see what Diavolo was talking about.

“This is…”

“My sigil.”

You face Diavolo with a quiet smile.

“Do you still have doubts about me? About us?” he asked.

“No… I’m sorry.” You take his hand in yours once more. “For the record, I don’t think I ever will again.”

“Good to know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me right away? You said you suspected it from the first day we met. I think there’s a possibility Barbatos knew of it as well.”

“Yes, it was the first time I felt so drawn to someone, but while I had my suspicions, I was only able to confirm them during that day, at the House of Lamentation,” he revealed, squeezing your hand. “As for Barbatos, I asked him not to look into anything relating to the prophecy and you, or at least, not to inform me if he sees anything—except if you would be in danger. I wanted things between us to progress naturally. Was that overly selfish of me?”

“Not at all. I’m glad we were able to get through this together, just the two of us,” you replied, endeared by his intention of pursuing a relationship with you in the most normal and genuine way he could. “I didn’t act upon it because I never thought it would be possible, but I… felt drawn to you from the first day, too.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you admitted and glanced at the door. “Is it too late for us to attend the party? I bet everyone is worried.”

“Are you feeling fine enough?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He nodded, his expression shifting into an amused one. “I think our previous outfits are wrinkled, though.”

You laughed. “I think so, too.”

“Why don’t you choose another one from your closet? You know, I was wondering why you’re always so hesitant to accept gifts from me.”

“Sorry about that,” you replied with sincerity. “This time, I accept the offer wholeheartedly. Thank you for everything. I mean it.”

“You’re welcome, my princess.”

As a final touch, you swiped a layer of red lipstick over your lips and closed the container with a snap. You leaned back and observed your reflection in the mirror. Even though your choice of lip color was bold, you opted for light makeup and went with the natural flushing of your cheeks. You couldn’t help the blood heating up your face at the reminder of your earlier escapades with Diavolo. Undoubtedly, you would never be able to look at this vanity table in the same way ever again. 

Gold jewelry adorned your ears and wrists. The intricate lace pattern of the sleeves and neckline of the black evening gown you were wearing was exquisite to your touch. The full expanse of your back was bare, laid in the open for all to see. While you were unused to such clothing, the impending revelation of your fate for all of the three worlds to witness felt right. All in all, it was a quick ensemble you arranged, but it was elegant. You were more satisfied than you were earlier when you first dressed up for the celebratory ball—in more ways than one.

“All done?” Diavolo asked, standing up from the chaise and putting his D.D.D. inside his pocket. He was in his demon form, as everyone else would be except for your friends from Purgatory Hall, for your ceremonial dance at the end of the celebration. It would be the only event you would be able to attend at this point, but it was the most important one, marking the end of Diavolo’s search and the beginning of your new role.

“Yes.”

He stepped forward and offered you his arm. “Shall we, my princess?”

Wordlessly, you smiled and slipped your hand in his arm as affirmation. This time, you had no guilt nor doubt. Your relationship with him was as real as it could get. You were the prophesied Queen of the Devildom. Soon, he would be your King.

Diavolo was your fate and your choice. And you were his.

Bound by destiny are the Prince and the Princess.

Over her skin, his symbol shall appear and remain.

And with the whole Devildom as their witness,

King and Queen, they shall be; eternal, they will reign.

Notes: And that’s a wrap!

This fic began with the idea of a character having ‘666’ as a soulmark. It was the first time I posted a work that was still in progress, and I’m really grateful for all the kind comments and feedback I received along the way. Thank you to everyone who supported this story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 💖

See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil

Obey Me! Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[cno-inbminor]

adsentio

a/n: for some reason, i got the idea of prince!akaashi stuck in my head. mildly inspired by the swan princess. 

wc: ~2.1k 

genre: arranged marriage!au, royalty!au, emerging feelings. fluff mainly? idek, it’s word vomit

royalty!au: adsentio (pt. 1) | bonus letters (pt. 1.5) | the masque (pt. 2)

-

Prince Akaashi likes to believe he’s a smart cookie, even if he’s only seven. Then again, his parents aren’t exactly the most subtle people on the planet, and he believes it’s quite obvious as to what they’re planning. In fact, not only is he aware, but the whole castle is as well. Hell, even 90% of the citizens in the kingdom are fully aware of what’s to be expected. He strongly dislikes it, and he wishes it didn’t loom over him every summer.

Ever since the summer of the year he turned five, Princess (y/n) of the West Kingdom would show up for two months to make his life miserable. To be fair, it wasn’t exactly your fault, as you were very much forced into this arrangement as he was, but it was easier to blame you. He’d rather just play fight with Bokuto all summer rather than try to include a girl. It’s not because you’re capable of kicking his butt.

That is absolutely not the case here.

His mother, the queen, is scrambling to get all the preparations done in time for (y/n)’s arrival. Akaashi almost rolls his eyes when he spots her rearranging a bouquet of roses in the dining hall. Unfortunately, she spots him from the corner of her eye and beckons him over with a frantic hand. Never one to deny a parent, he quickly jogs over to her.

“Oh darling, would you be a doll and check in on your father? He needs to be dressed properly for the West Kingdom’s arrival. Tell him to wear that cyan blue shirt of his, it’s much more flattering.”

“Do we need to be so overboard like this again? They’ve already been here twice, it’s not like they don’t know us.”

“For reasons you don’t know, they’re extra special to us. Aren’t you excited to see (y/n) again? You two got along so well last summer!”

Akaashi wrinkles his nose in distaste. “It feels like I just saw her yesterday. Bokuto and I just wanna play by ourselves.”

“Nonsense, dear. Now go check on your father, please,” His mother implores before scurrying off to another bouquet of flowers.

It’s so obvious, he thinks to himself as he jogs towards his parents’ chambers. Did they really need this alliance with the West Kingdom? Would they be that much more powerful together? “In due time, you’ll understand,” his parents always said. Akaashi was starting to become tired of hearing those words.

Why is it so hard to just tell him now as to why they want him to marry Princess (y/n)?

-

“You know why I’m here, right?” (Y/n) asks him one evening. They’re sixteen now – Akaashi counts that this is your twelfth time at the castle. You call the castle your second home, as he once heard you tell your assigned handmaiden, the same lady who attends to you every summer. Somehow, the statement strikes a chord within him – his initial childish annoyance at your presence had long disappeared and been replaced with something akin to defeat. There was very little chance that they could run from this, but in the late nights, Akaashi found himself believing that if there were someone to be betrothed to, (y/n) wasn’t so bad.

“What do you mean?” He replies, slowly turning a page in his book. You both found that one way to quickly pass the time was to raid the royal library. At first, it was custom to read your respective books at opposite ends of the castle. Yet as time passed, you found yourselves meeting closer and closer towards the middle. If desired, the servants could find you two either together in the library, in an empty ballroom by the massive windows, or on the balcony in the summer sun. Most times, Bokuto, Akaashi’s most loyal friend, was with you as well. Reading wasn’t necessarily one of his top hobbies, but he’d rather be with friends than alone wondering around the castle.

This time, the two of you have taken refuge by a fireplace, a terrible thunderstorm casting a chill over the building. Bokuto is conveniently off doing his own thing.

“The reason why I’m here every summer.”

Akaashi casts his best exasperated look towards you, but it goes unnoticed as you refuse to look away from your book. “I’ve known since I was six.”

You sigh and gently shut your novel closed, one finger stuck between the pages to keep your place. With the grace of an angel (Akaashi thinks), you pick yourself up from the lounge chair and drift over to the couch he’s sitting on. Because he’s sitting upright towards the end closest to the fire, there’s more than enough space for you to sit and stretch your legs across the cushions. In fact, you do just that, settling for leaning your back against Akaashi’s strong side profile, his arm supporting most of your weight. Without meaning to, Akaashi finds himself adjusting his sitting position for your comfort. He feels your body tremble slightly and a small wave of concern washes over him.

“Should I ask one of the servants to bring a blanket for you?”

“That won’t be necessary. But thank you for your concern, your highness.”

“You don’t have to address me as so.”

“My apologies, it’s a force of habit.”

“Hmm.”

Akaashi has long given up on reading the words before him. Your question repeats in his head like a broken record.

“Doesn’t it frustrate you?” You whisper, interrupting his thoughts. “Doesn’t it anger you that since my birth, you’ve been forced into a game that you have no choice but to play?”

Akaashi hesitates. This topic has never been broached before, and he’s not sure how to address it.

“I’ll admit it was more frustrating in the beginning. Nobody enjoys being told what to do, especially when you’re little. But I learned to just accept it. In fact, to call it a game would assume that there is a losing side. From what I’ve studied, both of our kingdoms would benefit from this merger. What’s the loss?”

“Our freedom and choice,” you bite out, yet refusing to look at him. You’ve also given up on reading, yet you don’t want to arouse suspicion that this conversation is happening. If a servant were to hear, rumors would fly around the castle like a plague. “I think it’s only human that I want to experience love the way ordinary people do. We don’t even get a say.”

“What about both of our parents? They were arranged yet they love each other.”

“Simple, they got lucky.”

“Then would you rather run away and find another man to fall in love with?”

“More than that, I just want to experience life beyond the castle walls. My position is different from yours.”

“How so?”

You purse your lips, pausing. “Your Highness, what do you think would happen to you if I were to disappear, or god forbid, die?”

Akaashi’s eyes widen in bewilderment. “Why would you ask that?”

“You just need to answer my question.”

“Well,” he ponders. “I…believe I’d be somewhat sad. We would mourn the loss, surely.”

For the first time this summer, he hears a genuine chuckle from you. “I’m honored by your sentiment, your highness. I’m asking more of what you think would politically happen to you.”

Akaashi’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I guess…politically I’d be okay. Mother would be devastated, but I guess they’d find me another match. The merger with your kingdom would’ve been our strongest move, but it could still happen since we’re already on such good speaking terms. Supposedly there are other princesses waiting for a chance, and a merger could result from that as well.”

“What a humble braggart you are, your highness,” you tease.

“That’s not what I meant—”

“I know. But in all seriousness,” you switch to a more solemn tone. “The point is, you’d be okay. As you so nicely put it, you have women lining up to be with you.”

“Aren’t men lining up to be with you as well?”

“It’s not the same, Your Highness. As a princess, I’m brought up to constantly prove my worth to others. More importantly, I’m raised to prove my worth as a wife and a queen. We’re left to care for the children we must bear, we must keep our noses a reasonable distance away from kingdom business. If this engagement were to break, many outsiders would automatically assume that I was deemed unworthy of you, that I must’ve wrapped myself in some horrible scandal.”

Akaashi hums and stares into the fire. “I suppose that it’s rather unfortunate. I wish I had realized that sooner.”

“Your self-awareness speaks volumes. I usually wouldn’t admit this to you, but I know you’ll be a great king when it’s your time. Your people already love you, and they will only continue to love you more.”

“That’s very kind of you, Princess.”

“I only speak honestly. There’s no need to sugarcoat my words around you.”

Somehow, Akaashi finds that very comforting. Perhaps as someone in his position, he would consider honesty and wisdom to be valuable. Just because he’s destined to be king someday, doesn’t mean he would always make the right decisions. He would appreciate having you by his side in his decision-making.

“If this happens,” Akaashi finds himself speaking, also not one for beating around the bush. “I can promise now that I’ll try to change that. Even if we end up never loving each other, I’ll do my best to ensure that you never feel confined to such a role. As my w-wife,” he stumbles over the word. “I would want your input. You have a good head on you, and I’m sure you have valuable wisdom that I will need in due time.”

“Somehow, that’s the most romantic thing a man has ever said to me,” you say. He can hear the smile in your voice, his own small one forming on his face. When you move off the couch, his body immediately misses the warmth of your body pressed against his. After you’re done dusting yourself off, you begin to curtsy. He knows that this means you’re retiring for the night, but he’d rather you not leave right now.

“Wait,” he calls out, reaching for the hand not holding your book. You stay silent as Akaashi delicately holds your hand, then breaking out into a slight blush when he lays a soft kiss on the back of your hand, eyes never breaking contact with yours. He’s never been more princely to you than this moment – though his mother had made him do this on every first day you arrive at the castle, it never held so much meaning. This was of his own doing, his own volition, and that spoke volumes to you. He was trying to make this work in his own special way.

You don’t miss the way his thumb ghosts over your knuckles before releasing your hand, although the movement seems hesitant and troubled. “Good night, Princess,” he bids quietly, eyes looking back at the ignored book in his lap. Your heart beats with adrenaline, the chemical fueling you to step closer to him and bend down to place a kiss on his cheek. Akaashi does his best to not look surprised, but he knows that he has failed when he hears the sound of your gentle laugh.

“Good night, Keiji.”

The prince concludes right then and there that he has never heard anything more beautiful.

-

When you return to your chambers the next night, it’s hard to miss the most beautiful glass vase you’ve seen that’s sitting on your dresser. Inside stands a half-bloomed peony, a flower you recognize from the castle gardens. The petals have a tender shade of a light blush pink – if the flower-arranging lessons taught you anything, they stood for romance, compassion, and bashfulness. A neatly folded cardstock with your name stands demurely by the vase. The handwriting is strikingly familiar, and you can’t help but smile at the words neatly written inside.

To my future queen.

As you bring the flower to your nose and inhale the sweet scent, you begin to think that perhaps, you and Akaashi might just be lucky enough for love.

 -

feel free to send requests for this au! 

[thorinthehottotty]

As it Pleases - Fíli

A/N: decided to force myself to finish one of my drafts and this was the one. Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I severely underestimated how much work was needed to move in and I've been feeling really blah about my writing. As always, I love feed back.

Summary: You and your new husband have retired to your room for the night. The only problem. You've just met today and it was all an arranged marriage.

Warnings: implied smut, bits o fluff, naked dwarves... lil bit of smut.

You gulp, staring hard at the marital bed. This was it. You had married a dwarrow prince and now you would... Share in the bed.

Biting your lip, you glared at the sheets and candles. The room was chilly as you curse your fate. You hadn't met the dwarf before the ceremony, but you'd heard many tales of dwarrow. Your hand maiden had whispered horror stories of what dwarves were like. Brutes. Savages. They had no manner, which wasn't the worst.

The door to the bathing chamber opens and your new husband shuffles out it a sleep shirt and trousers, cheeks flushing. This was not what you had expected from a dwarf prince.

You knew your duties. You would fulfill them... Just not tonight. He seemed kind enough. Perhaps he would allow you to wait to consummate.

"I ran a fresh bath for you if you would so desire."

"Ah... Thank you." Your cheeks flush and you hesitantly move toward the doorway, only to pause and look back at him. That was strangely sweet of him. "What... What do you require of me... Tonight?"

His cheeks deepen in color and he turns away. It was rather cute to see him in such a way. "Technically we were supposed to bathe together. Wash each other's hair. Braid it. I did not think you'd prefer that."

"Is that all?" You murmur. His gentle nature toward you was surprising. He was sweet. He nods. "Do you... Think perhaps we should? For sake of tradition?" You offer uncomfortably. Your sense of duty came first.

Your husband looks to you, shocked. "You do not have to."

"We're married," you murmur. "I just... If we could wait to... to consummate." Your husband sighs in relief and nods.

"If you are comfortable with it, then yes. I would feel better about it than lying to my kin." You swallow, give a curt nod, and slip into the wash room. It's enormous. Steam billowed off the water from the heat. Dipping a hand in you found it wasn't too hot but nearly. Perfect.

Your husband had yet to join you as you stripped. He entered slowly when you were slipping into the water. You watched him approach slowly with your own red cheeks. He stepped up, peeling his tunic up and over his head, exposing tattoos, muscles, chest hair and an adorable little belly. He was definitely attractive.

You avert your eyes as he reaches for his own trousers and the water sloshes as he sinks across from you.

You peak and he's watching you carefully. You draw yourself up and lean toward him. His eyes drop to the breast that have popped above the water and pebbled from the chill of the air. He gulps as you lean toward him.

"I thought you said you wanted to wait."

"Can I kiss you?" You ask quietly, shocking him. "Can I kiss my new husband?"

His face softens at you. For the first time all night, he didn't look nervous. Instead, he looked like he was awed. His hands lift as he sinks back against the edge of the stone tub. "Whenever you desire," he promises softly.

Although neither of you had met prior to your wedding, it seemed to be mutually agreed on that you both would try to fulfill this marriage. Not just the physical requirements, but the emotions as well.

You wanted to be kind to your husband, who in return was respectful of all of your wishes. He was gentle, something dwarves were not known for. To be honest, he was giving you butterflies of excitement. Your sense of duty wasn't always a pleasure, but his gentle nature was better than anything you could hope for.

As your lips tentatively brush together, you feel your heart race in your chest and the tickle of his facial hair on your lips. Your hands reach for his chest, to glide over his shoulders and stroke at the damp curls against his pecs. And a secondary kiss is hesitantly drawn from his lips.

You shiver as his thumbs caress your smooth jaw. His tongue prods gently, a sensation that you've never experienced. It makes you jump back a bit and raise a hand to your lips. He frowns gently, looking like he's worried he's offended you. "Did you not like that?"

You take a moment. "I'm not sure. It surprised me." Fíli nods, patiently. He lets you reach for him. You index finger tracing his lower lip that he graciously parts for you. A silly smile graces your face as his tongue playfully slips out and laps at your finger. You giggle a bit.

Its hot and wet. Arousing even. Maybe... Maybe consummating wouldn't be so bad.

Fíli's eyes glitter up at you, shining eagerly from pleasing you. The first smile he had seen from you, and it was pretty. Even if it was just something like that, that had caused your smile. He leans up to meet your lips when you move toward him again. The tension in the room had changed. From nervous to sexually charged.

He tried his tongue in your mouth again, delighted when you pushed your own back against his. You had a delicate balance of hesitant and curious.

His soft lips were gentle, possibly a bit hungry. He stiffened when you shifted your leg over his, ready to climb into his lap. You jerk back a bit, shyly peaking at him. His eyes dart to your chest again and he looks pained. His hands retract, draping over the sides of the tub.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." He glances up at you for a moment, then his eyes reglue to your chest.

"I just... Don't want to upset you. You said no consummation, and that's fine. But you are... Beautiful." He breathes and you feel butterflies floating about in your belly. When his fingers twitch you smile shyly, feeling how warm your face is.

"Would you like to touch them?" You ask, feeling a bit exposed. He blinks up at you in shock, his cheeks painting with color again.

"Yes, please," he whispers.

You sit upright on your knees, letting your own hands sink below the water and into your lap. He watches in awe, eyes appreciative of your form. One of his hands raises to cup your breast, his thumb teasing the hardened nipple. The sensation makes you shiver.

Then his other hand rises and he gives a soft squeeze to both of them. You let your head tilt back, basking in the sweet attention he was giving them. You give a soft sigh when his mouth descends onto one of them. He peeks up, making sure that you're okay with this. You glance down to see him lolling his tongue up it. It was erotic, sending heat straight to your core. As you move into his lap, he gives a soft grunt, pausing in his attention.

Oh. That's why he didn't want you in his lap. He was painfully hard against your thigh. And... Large. The thought made you blush. That would hurt, no doubt. No matter how gentle. He gazes up at your nervous expression, hands frozen on your breasts.

"We can stop here," he assures. His hands move, one wrapping around your waist, the other raising to your hair.

"Have you... been with anyone before?" You ask. Fíli's blue eyes glitter at you as he shakes his head.

"No. I've kissed dams before. But... Dwarves only stay with their Ones."

"Ones?" You repeat,sinking down a bit in the water, against him. He winces as your thigh rubs his erection.

"Yes, our destined Ones." You nod at him.

"What about you?" You ask tentatively. "Don't you want to look for a dam?" Fíli begins to pluck pins from your hair, dropping them to the edge of the tub.

"You seem just as good as any dam. That I promise." He gives a quiet groan, dragging you closer to him. Your chest presses to his as your hair falls around your shoulders and your chest swells. You feel a tenderness rise at his heavy words, in his eyes you see his sincerity. "Are you upset about not being with a man?"

"I was nervous," you admit, not meeting his eyes. "Well... scared actually." You spare a glance into his eyes. "Arranged marriages are often loveless, I'd do everything out of duty. Serve my husband how he pleases and smile while doing it. My duty is to you now. I was fed horror stories about how I would be treated." Fíli blinked in surprise, instead of drawing back, he simply cups your cheeks in his hands.

The feeling makes close your eyes and smile a tiny bit. His palms were so warm. "You don't fear me then?"

"No," you promise and look to see a relieved expression.

"Do you think you will love me someday?" He asks, eyes glittering hopefully. He looked significantly younger.

"I think you'll make it easy to." He beams as you lean down the last inch to gently rub your nose on his. One of his big arms wraps around you and you are dipped back into the water to soak your hair.

The water was still almost too warm but the air feels cold as he draws you back up. "Dwarves can only love once," he says as he reaches up into your hair. His fingers rub soothingly on your aching scalp. "Don't fall in love with anyone but me, I won't be able to take it."

You gaze over him, disbelief filling you. Were you truly lucky? Or were dwarves masters of deception?

"You are my husband. I am yours now. Only yours. My heart. My body. My soul." He shakes his head.

"I do not own you. You are no slave. You are a lady to do as she pleases." A cheeky grin passes his face and you find him boyish and cute. The longer you study his face the more handsome he becomes. Those soft, pursed lips felt as tender as they looked. His big blue eyes dazzled you with their sweetness. His long nose was becoming cuter and cuter as the moments went on. And he was well groomed.

Lucky your were, indeed.

"Even if she pleases to kiss me." You felt your own grin rise and you eagerly meet his lips. At this rate you'd never wash up.

"She does." Your new husband hitches his arm across your rear and hoists you effortlessly back into the water crawling on top of you.

"Does it please my princess if I wash her hair?" You smile up at him.

"It does."

Taglist:

@tomisbaeholland @queenofmankind @dumbassunderthemountain @fizzyxcustard @saviorsong @daisy-picking-lady

(And omg its been so long I have to go look at my taglist)

[konglindorm]

The Missing Half

So if you’ve been around for a while, you’ve probably heard me talking about Prince Lindworm, and not just recently, as I prepare to release my book. I’ve been obsessed with this story for a long time, I’ve written several blog posts and essays about it, and it’s even the source of my username on many websites—konglindorm.

But today, I’m going to talk about something new: the second half of the story.

I honestly didn’t know until very recently that this story did not end with the lindworm being transformed and everyone living happily ever after. I’ve been working for a long time on my own translation of the story, from a 100+ year old Danish book, and last month I finally reached the end of it.

And then saw that there were three more pages.

Now, I’m preparing to publish my first novel, and I don’t have the time or the energy to translate another three pages. But I did a quick read-through, enough to get the basic idea, and I did some more research. Then I ran it through Google translate, which produced something that’s…pretty rough, but it’s useful to having something in English to glance back at as I work on this post.

So it’s not relevant to my retelling at all, and it’s actually a really common fairy tale type that I’ve encountered many times before, but I’m really excited about this. Quick recap, before we start: Barren queen wants baby. Queen is instructed to eat one flower if she wants a son, another if she wants a daughter, but not, under any circumstances, both. Queen eats both. Queen gives birth to lindworm. Lindworm eventually demands bride. Eats her. Demands second bride. Eats her. Demands third bride, third bride does some really weird stuff that somehow turns him into a human. Great rejoicing, etc., etc.

Now on to part two. I’m gonna be honest; some really weird stuff happens here. Which shouldn’t be surprising, coming from the same fairy tale that brought us “To turn a snake into a man, make him molt ten times, dip some whips in lye, whip him a bunch, and dunk him in a tub of milk.” My understanding of the story is hindered somewhat by lack of a complete and accurate English translation, but it looks like at some point our girl helps break the spells on two other enchanted princes by feeding them her breast milk? It’s, um. It’s something, and something I’ll need to fully translate eventually to understand better. I think I’m missing a fair amount of context and nuance.

(Between the two halves, I ‘m thinking I need to do a lot of research on the healing properties of milk in folklore. Is that a thing? Does it come up elsewhere? This story is Danish; anyone from Denmark know if there’s some cultural element to this or something?)

But for now we’re going to focus on the main thing, the basic plot of the second half.

Our girl gets pregnant. Lindworm and his dad go off to war, leaving pregnant girl with Lindworm’s mother the queen. Now, normally, that would cause some trouble in the fairy tale world, because usually, old queens are not fond of their daughters-in-law, and often try to frame them for horrible crimes.

But not our queen. She gave birth to a monster. Her only heir was a dragon, and he was eating people. Then our girl came along and turned him into an upstanding member of human society. This queen loves her daughter-in-law. So we need a different bad guy.

Our girl gives birth to twins. She sends a letter to the lindworm, letting him know. Normally, in this story type, the queen swaps it out with a letter saying she gave birth to something else, but not our queen, so that role is filled by the Red Knight. No information on who this dude is, what he has against our characters, or why it’s his job to run letters back and forth between the palace and the war zone.

He gets rid of the letter saying our girl had twins, replaces it with a letter saying she had puppies. Lindworm gets the letter, thinks, “well, that’s super weird, but who am I to judge, my mom didn’t give birth to a human either.” Sends back a letter saying, “Okay, we’ll sort that all out when I get home.”

Red Knight was apparently hoping for a less go-with-the-flow type answer, because he replaces that letter with one telling the queen to set our girl and her babies on fire.

The queen gets the letter, and I guess she’s probably thinking that maybe the transformation didn’t quite work after all, maybe her son still has some monster in him, because what the heck, dude? I’m not burning my grandbabies.

So she doesn’t know when the lindworm is coming home, and she’s afraid of what he’ll do to his family when he does; she sets our girl up with some supplies and sends her and the babies out into the world where they’ll be safe.

(This is when she turns a couple birds into princes by nursing them, and apparently hangs out with them in their palace for quite some time. Not clear on the nature of their relationships, a little concerned, will update you guys someday when I’ve sorted it all out; if anyone’s read this entire story in Danish and fully understands it, or if you’ve encountered a complete English translation, please do let me know!)

Lindworm comes home, looking for his wife. Queen is pissed at her son. Son isn’t sure what she’s so upset about; he thought he was pretty chill about the whole gave-birth-to-puppies thing. Queen isn’t sure what puppies have to do with anything, but setting your family on fire is in no way chill. They argue for a while, eventually get to the bottom of things, Red Knight is in big, big trouble. Lindworm goes looking for his wife and kids. Eventually finds them hanging out with these two other princes.

This is where Google translate really breaks down on me, and things just make less and less sense, and I can’t go down to the source material with my Danish-English dictionary and sort it out right now; I’m on a bit of a tight schedule. But it’s looking like the Lindworm and the two other princes sort of fight over our girl, all three of them drink her milk (it seems like it’s been long enough that she shouldn’t be producing milk anymore; it also seems like these two dudes are drinking her milk regularly? I am so concerned about so many things.)

Somehow the conflict is resolved, the other two princes marry other princesses, and our girl and the twins go home with the lindworm.

Now, there’s a lot to unpack here, obviously, and a lot of it is going to have to wait until another time. It is nice to know that King Lindorm is consistently just absolutely bizarre through both halves.

But what I really, really like about the second half is that some new dude is our bad guy, and the queen is fully and firmly on our heroine’s side.

Before I made any effort at even the crappiest translation of the second half, I did some research on what it was about. And I was so concerned about it as soon as I found out what story type it was, because some sort of mother figure is almost always the bad guy. (Shout out to the Grimms for not doing that in “The Girl Without Hands,” too.) And it just seemed really awful that the queen would turn around and try to sabotage our girl after she fixed the lindworm. So I was really relieved to find the Red Knight in my first quick skim-through.

I’m just really impressed with Grundtvig, Adjunct Levisen, and Maren Mathisdatter for deviating from the norm here.

(Another notable deviation, aside from “The Girl Without Hands,” listed above, is the French fairy tale “Bearskin,” by Marie-Madeleine de Lubert; I doubt it’s a coincidence that women were definitely involved in the telling/recording of 2 of these 3 stories where people are not out to get their daughters-in-law.)

Also, like. Can we just take a moment to appreciate the incredible stupidity of the Red Knight? The lindworm was born as a giant snake monster, and for some reason Red thinks he’ll be shocked and horrified that his children were born as puppies? The lindworm is pretty much the only person in the world who has no right to be upset by that. He, of all people, should know that these things just happen sometimes, and they’re totally fixable, though not, perhaps, without bloodshed.

(Also, also. As I said above, I don’t know who the Red Knight is or what he has against our characters. It’s possible that the text does tell us and it just didn’t come across in my incredibly quick and crappy translation. But my theory is that he’s somehow connected to one of our two dead and eaten princesses. In which case he’s entitled to be upset, even if he’s handling it poorly.)

Preorder my book here!

[gingerwritess]

OKEY BUT whats up with eliott and morgannnn

oooh i love these two so goddamn much

good lord

one pure blue prince and one snarky potts-stark we must prOTECC

for anyone just tuning in, Elliot is you and Loki’s son, a pure lil bean, and this is Morgan Stark who he’s grown up with and stuff is happening and yeah check my masterlist for more background :)

also i recently realised that people who use screen reading have to sit through paragraph breaks of asterisks and that must be SO ANNOYING so i will no longer use that, i’ll just use a few hyphens to hopefully get the break over with quick and easy!

――――

“What’re you gonna do, Stark? Gonna call daddy to come save you?”

Holding her snow gloves just out of her reach, Mike Burts leers down at Morgan.

Why is it that the bullies are always so big??

“Maybe I will,” Morgan spits back at him, giving one last jump to try and grab her gloves. “He’d kick your ass and make you thank him for it, dickhead, give me my gloves back!”

“Don’t think so,” he sneers, tossing the gloves to one of his stubby little cohorts behind him. “Aw, well, if daddy won’t come help, you can always call your little blue freak!”

Morgan casts a quick glance around—good. Elliot’s nowhere to be seen, at least for now.

“Don’t talk about him like that,” she warns, a hand slyly slipping into her pocket.

“Like what? Like he’s a freaky, frozen mutant?”

“Seriously, Burts. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” he says sarcastically. “Don’t want to piss off the little popsicle’s girlfriend, do we.”

A thin layer of metal encases her hand. “Last chance.”

“I’m not scared of your little monster pet,” Burts hisses in her face. “What’s he gonna do, call Jack Frost on me? Oh no, I better keep a heater close by—”

In one quick, barely noticeable movement, Morgan aims her hand towards the ground at his feet, firing a blast of something roaring up to his face.

Harmless, she and her parents are aware, but Burts and his goons don’t need to know that.

He squeaks in fright. “What the—”

“Get the hell out of here,” Morgan orders. Her hand, wrapped in red and gold metal, is smoking. “Leave me alone, and if I hear you say one more thing about Elliot, I swear to god I’ll break your toes one by one and feed them to you—”

“Morgan!”

“Run,” she hisses, a smug grin on her face as he pales. “Run away and don’t look back.”

“What’s going on?” Elliot runs to her side, slightly out of breath. “Is—is he bothering you?”

Morgan gives him a quick smile—that’s sweet of him—but she doesn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice.

“Nah, I got them taken care of.” She jabs a thumb over her shoulder at the guys huddled a safe distance from her now. “They’re all bark, no bite.”

“That’s good,” Elliot says, thanking the norns above and whoever else is listening that he didn’t have to get pummelled by anyone today. “Are you, erm, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Nothing hurt but my pride.” She flashes him another smile.

“You’re lookin’ pretty smug, though.”

“Okay…so maybe my pride isn’t very hurt…”

Elliot laughs, not in the slightest bit surprised. “Mmhm, that’s what I thought. That’s good, though, I’m sure they deserved it.”

Blowing an unruly curl of dark hair off his forehead, he leans over and takes her books out of her arms to carry them for her, a soft smile turning at his lips.

Morgan nods, warmth spreading through her chest like a wildfire.

Your little blue freak.

“They deserve worse, but yeah.”

“No gloves?” Elliot asks as they walk towards the doorway, backpacks slung over shoulders and jackets zipped tight.

“No,” she sighs, wrapping her chunky scarf snug around her neck. “Burts took them. Don’t bother,” she adds when Elliot’s eyes narrow, “let them have them. They’re…big, Elliot. Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t want them to get away with that,” he replies, glancing at the group of laughing boys behind her. “At least tell your parents. They can do something about them, right?”

“Sure.” She smiles, tugging her beanie over her ears. “What about you? No scarf, no hat? Your ears are gonna freeze off.”

“Today’s a warm day,” Elliot answers with a small smile.

Morgan glances out the window—the snow has to be past their knees by now, icicles hanging from every rooftop, plus a wind chill to freeze the skin right off your limbs?

A warm day. Right.

“Whatever you say, frosty. Dad said he’s already heating up the milk for our hot chocolate, let’s hit the road.”

Elliot likes the snow. This ice, this coldness. He feels at home, unthreatened—and he gets to walk Morgan home.

Purely for safety purposes, Tony had made perfectly clear, only to ensure that his baby doesn’t get caught up in a snow storm or slip and break herself on some ice.

“I’m fine,” she’d laughed at the proposition, but only once.

There wasn’t much opposition to the little arrangement from either party.

“Shit.”

Easily floating over the icy sidewalks, Elliot gives a quiet laugh—as always, when she cusses. “Language.”

“It’s cold,” she groans, shoving her bare hands deeper in her pockets. “Those shit—stupid-heads who took my gloves are gonna pay for this.”

“Please let me watch.”

“No, don’t encourage me!” She laughs and shoves him in the shoulder with hers—not that it’d knock him off balance. Elliot manages to make walking on ice and through snow look like a literal walk in the park. “C’mon, you’re supposed to talk me out of fights. Be a good escort.”

“Fine,” he chides, plucking off his right glove and handing it to her with an exaggerated, swooping bow. “Don’t fight anyone, take my glove instead. I have two, we can share.”

“You have two for your two hands, idiot,” she laughs, cheeks pink against the wind. “But thank you. I accept your most gracious offer, your majesty.”

“Good. Put it on, you’re gonna get frostbite and I don’t know how to treat that yet.”

She does, blowing a lock of hair out of her face and she wiggles it onto her half-frozen fingers, giving her hand a couple squeezes to warm up her knuckles.

“Much better. Thanks, Elliot.” She glances up at him, a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

Elliot can feel a smile on his own lips as he nods—and quickly looks away, cause her nose is pink and her eyes glowing under the thick wool beanie, and she’s warm.

“What about this hand?”

Ice crunching under their boots, she holds up her other hand, the one left ungloved, and wiggles her fingers in front of him.

“This hand’s gonna get frostbite,” she hums, dropping it back between the two of them. “And then my dad’s gonna kick you out of the city.”

Elliot laughs—even though he doesn’t doubt that she’s not joking. “Here.” He takes off his other glove. “You can have both of mine, I really don’t need them—”

“No, absolutely not!” She pushes the glove back into his hands. “Put that back on, you need at least one. I don’t want your dad hating me either.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure? I really don’t mind.”

“I’m positive. Put your glove back on.”

He does, sceptically, but he does. The threat of frostbite isn’t exactly a joke…

They walk another block in a comfortable silence, listening to the snow crunch and the wind whistle, each with their one bare hand hiding deep in their pockets.

Morgan shivers again.

Elliot glances down—she’s taken her hand out of her pocket, clenching her fingers into a fist and shaking it, trying to keep the blood moving.

Her hand is just there against her thigh, cold, trembling, empty.

His fingers twitch slightly—then he catches himself.

That…would be weird. That would be wrong. Not to mention how Tony would wring his neck for even thinking of doing—doing that, ruining every chance of ever seeing each other again for good.

The streetlight ahead of them seems to be broken again, red lights flashing every few seconds.

That’s definitely a sign, Elliot decides.

They step off the curb to cross the street.

A car honks and Morgan, one foot shooting out from under her, grabs hold of his bicep, hard.

“Ice!” She shrieks, holding onto him for dear life as her feet scramble for traction. “Sorry, sorry!”

Nearly dropping her books, his hand lands on her waist, firmly settling her back on balance.

“I’ve got you,” Elliot laughs, trying to grab her and keep her upright. “I’ve got you.”

What a spectacle they must have been, the two of them slipping and scrambling in the middle of the icy crosswalk, half-laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, half-frantically trying to get out of the road—

“All good?”

She giggles, breath leaving her lips in a little puff of frozen air. “Yep. Sorry, I’m not a snow princess like someone I know.”

He just laughs again—that seems to be all he’s capable of, in her presence. Laughing awkwardly, nervously, giggling like an idiot when he shouldn’t be.

And…his hand is still on her waist.

Move. Move them.

“We’ve gotta move,” she laughs, snapping her fingers in his face. “You can let go of me now, I can stand by myself…”

“Right.” He clears his throat with another awkward little chuckle, hands snapping away from Morgan’s waist. “S-sorry.”

Ungloved hands back in their pockets, the walk resumes—this time, a surge of warmth keeping Elliot’s skin from freezing blue. A warmth he finds specifically trained in his arm, the little spot where she’d grabbed onto him to keep from falling.

Morgan just walks beside him, the tiniest smile turning at her lips, her nose rosy against the chilled wind.

He should say something, right?

“So, um…”

She looks over at him and he stutters.

“S-snow?”

Snow??

That’s the best he could come up with?

A laugh falls from her lips and Elliot silently curses his father for apparently not passing along the whole ‘silvertongue’ trait.

“Lots of it,” she agrees, glancing around the snow-covered city. “Does it snow in Asgard?”

He clears his throat and nods. “When w-we want it to.”

“That’s so cool.” A dreamy glaze passes over her features - Elliot finds himself staring. “You’ve gotta take me there someday. Y’know, when you’re the king-in-training or whatever.”

“No way,” he laughs, grateful for a familiar topic. “I’m not even ready to start thinking about that.”

“Sure. Whatever you say,” she grins. There’s a skip in her step, now.

“I can bring you along sometime soon,” he calls after her when she skips a few steps in front of him. “Once we’re all settled, you can come stay at the palace with us.”

Morgan comes to a stop and waits for him to catch up, a beaming smile on her lips. “I can’t wait.”

Side by side once more, she nudges him with her shoulder.

And nervous awkwardness swallows the two of them whole again.

That damn hand of hers is out of her pocket.

They’re close, really close to each other, to the point where he can feel her warmth radiating - and they’re almost home. If anything’s going to happen, it’s now or never.

She clenches her hand into a cold, trembling fist by her thigh, letting go after a moment.

Warm? No, she’s burning. 

His knuckles brush against hers, just once, cautious and quick, and she hurriedly snaps her head to look away from him - her cheeks beet-red, she tries to bite back her giddy grin.

Don’t say anything, she screams to herself. He’ll do it, he’ll do it—

Elliot pretends to slip a tiny bit. There. Now it could’ve been an accident.

Won’t she say something?

She’s still beaming, the tiny skin-to-skin touch apparently going unnoticed, and Elliot can’t help but give it another try.

This time, with a bit more intent.

She makes sure her hand is open, swinging invitingly between the two of them as they walk, and she almost jumps with a start when his fingertips brush her palm.

Elliot searches her face out of the corner of his eye, waiting for the disgust, looking for any signs that he went too far, that this makes things weird.

And he finds nothing.

Pinky fingers wind around each other, and Elliot holds his breath.

Her grin is clearly visible, peeking out from behind her scarf, her cheeks flushed and pink from what might be the cold but maybe, just maybe, the fact that her little finger is wrapped around his, interlocked and silently assuring him that he’s not crazy, that he didn’t just dream this all up.

They cross another street, only a few more blocks from home, and this time Morgan moves.

She lets go of his pinky finger and lets her hand fall into his, fingertips brushing his palm as he curls his fingers between hers, slowly intertwining until Elliot can’t breathe - palms press together and she give his hand a tight squeeze.

“Can’t let me get frostbite, right?”

Elliot swallows thickly. “Right,” he whispers. “Is—is this okay?”

Morgan turns to him with a nervous giggle, eyes twinkling and cheeks burning. “As long as my parents don’t see, this is perfect.”

The very air around them seems to change, heavy and excited with the possibility of such a dense secret.

“Perfect,” he repeats in a whisper. “I-I won’t tell.”

Clutching at each other’s hands, holding onto each other tight enough to keep all the warmth between them, Elliot can’t stop from grinning.

“Hey, Morgan?”

She’s glowing. “Yeah?”

“You’re, um, really warm.”

Another laugh from her warms his heart. “Is that a good thing, frosty?”

Elliot gives another giddy giggle, glad that those guys had taken her gloves, glad that he gets to walk home with her, glad that she hadn’t pulled away when their hands first met.

“Perfect.”

――――

feel free to send me ideas!!

if you enjoyed…what if i linked my venmo…haha no i jest…no obligations….just in case….u don’t have to ha ha…….unless… ??

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

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[gotmilk5101520]

Miraculous Ladybug Rewatch Episode 43 Zombizou

The Walking Dead In Paris.

“What are you two fighting about?” “He said my hair looks like a tomato” “He said my hair looks like a lemon” “Dear god”

“It’s not her fault okay? Chloe just doesn’t like birthdays”

“She never remembers them. Just like her mom” That explains The Bubbler.

“We’re going to be late for Miss Mendeleiev’s physics class” “Sabrina, no one listens to her anymore. All she does is rant for 45 minutes about FAIRY GOD KWAMIS!”

I want to know what happened.

And this.

“At least half the city has gotten akumatized because of her” I’m surprised they brought this up.

This moment right here had caused the fandom to have a mini heart attack.

“What could be worse, then being punished for someone else’s wrongdoings?” I don’t know punishing your son for losing your book.

“The emotions have weakened. She’s the only girl in Adrien’s class that i haven’t akumatized yet! Why can’t i akumatized her? She’s not Ladybug! I will one day akumatize you!”

“Cmon there are much worse people in Paris right now than Chloe Bourgeois. Like Lila Rossi, who disappeared for some reason” “Yeah that’s true. Lila is worse then Chloe” “Lila’s still on the Eiffel Tower is she?” “What? No” “Marinette” “Okay yes she is”

This one scene showed so much. The akumatized object doesn’t have to be held by someone, but if they were last person that touched it, and it’s also the first time we see someone trying to rejecting Hawkmoth’s control.

Black lipstick. First we had Dark Cupid shooting his arrows and anyone he hits will hate and they have black lipstick for some reason. Now we have Zombizou, also with black lipstick but this time everyone becomes love kissing zombies. There’s something this series is trying to tell us about love and hate with black lipstick.

“From now on, everyone is going to hug, and kiss, and feel the love” “Eww” If you listen closely you can hear Chloe saying Eww and honestly? Chloe being a mood part 7

Some-

-BODY ONCE TOLD ME!

Fatality!

“Uhh Adrien? He’s still hasn’t come out of his locker”

“Adrien?”

“Besides i hate to be locked up”

“Kissy-Boo”

Ladybug slammed the door on Adrien.

“Hey guys. I’m all for our French greetings, but let’s hold off on the kisses for now” Chat Noir would happily French kiss everyone here.

“Chloe! Always Chloe! You only think about yourself” Alix is ready yeet Chloe off the roof.

“Play the hero as much as you like Kim. But you won’t be getting a kiss out of me”

“Please i already have a girlfriend” “Good- Wait what?” “Her name is Ondine and she’s so great. Heck she would never become a kissing zomb-” “Kissy-Boo“ “Never mind that’s her”

More memes.

Seriously how strong are these kids? They all have an eight pack.

He’ll be fine. I hope.

“Should’ve just yeet Chloe off the roof. Wait” “What’s wrong Alix?” “Where’s Nathanial?” “Who’s Nathanial?” “The artist, the guy that the fandom ships you with mostly for some reason till Marc shows up in a couple of episodes from now” “Oh yeah him. Wait i recall he was right behind us”

“Well looks like he’s going to be the new star of The Walking Dead”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just a close call that’s all”

*Screams in Julerose*

Yes, they kissed. On the lips. And you can’t tell me otherwise.

“Nino?”

“Nino!”

“This isn’t the first time we’ve been in trouble together”

“Kiss-Soo!”

*Cries in Djwifi*

“Don’t worry kitty, you’ll get your kisses” Still hasn’t happened.

Great job Chloe!

“Take of Chloe. Besides, you’ll save all of us like you always do. Right?”

“I totally trust you Ladybug!”

“Just go and save us all”

“I’ll just stay here and chill, milady. If we’re gonna end up kissing, then i rather do it after you save us okay?”

“You’re the only one who can fix this for us. No arguing now”

“Save us all Ladybug” These moments really put a lot of pressure on poor Marinette. Then again the steaks were high this episode.

If she knew who he was.

Wholesome Ivan x Mylene is wholesome.

“Ladybug, Chat Noir. If Zombizou is right, if love does always conquer. Then someday my most cherished will come true for sure” Hawky Mothy missing his waifu.

“No. I did. I forgot your birthday. Once again”

“And when i saw everyone had prepared a gift for you, i totally lost it”

“Because i, too, would’ve like to offer something. I’m sorry Miss Bustier”

“Thank you Chloe. Those words are the best possible gift you could ever give me”

#MissBustierisChloe’srealmom.

“Hey kitty, why do i feel like we’re forgetting something?” “Nah i’m sure you’re just imagining Milady” “Yeah you’re right” “Hmm? Was someone here? God i’ve been on here since the events of Volpina, and no one has come for me”

“Today class, we’re going to talk about on what the hell to Nathanial” “That’s a good question” “Yeah. What happened to you Nath?” “Well i was still in my locker and you guys failed to let me know and when i came out, everyone was gone. As i was making my escape, i ran into Marc a bit sooner and we worked together to escape the school. As we try to survive the Zombizou Apocalypse, we met with Luka and Kagami, who were also trying to survive, and then we met Prince Ali, who told us that he’s been trapped in Rose’s basement since Princess Fragrance but he got free cause Julerose became canon. And then-” “Okay there’s not enough room and the rewatch is ending, so another time Nathanial we’ll hear your The Walking Dead in Paris story” “Aww man”

Zombizou was really not like other mind control akumas. And that’s why i fear her return.

Is that a spider? GET IT AWAY! GET IT AWAY!

[fresh-outta-jams]

Of Spells and Spinning Wheels - Part 1

Sleeping Beauty!Jin x Reader Author: Mo Summary: You and Jin are childhood friends, betrothed to be married, happily on the path to your happily ever after...until on his sixteenth birthday, Jin is cursed... Note: I SWEAR THIS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE A SERIES. I’m so sorry lmao. Let me know if u wanna be tagged. Warnings: None? Word Count: 3.7k

1, 2, 3, 4, Epilogue

Once upon a time, in a quaint little kingdom, there was a handsome prince. Every maiden for miles was enamored by the pucker of his plush lips, his tousled blond locks, his sweet singing voice. It was said looking at his perfect features made the angels cry.

And yet, despite all of the women striving to earn the prince’s affection, he had eyes for only one: you.

You were the princess of a neighboring kingdom, the daughter of Jin’s father’s best friend, and so naturally, you had been introduced at a young age. More specifically, you had been introduced the week you had been born. Jin was only a toddler when he had attended your Christening.

Meetings were scheduled often for the two of you, at least a few times every month. You enjoyed spending time with the prince. At first, you had been timid, sure, but you’d found the prince to be your refuge. He was the one person you felt you could be natural with, and you learned after spending many years with him that the prince was as silly as he was handsome. And you loved him for it.

“(Y/N), it’s snowing.” He whispered, walking into your chambers unannounced. You jumped in your seat at the window, nearly dropping the book in your hands.

“What did I tell you about scaring me like that?” You held a hand over your heart, laughing, before saying pointedly, “Prince Seokjin.”

He gasped, stepping further into the room. “What did you call me? You know I loathe it when you call me that.”

“Yes, but it annoys you. And I adore annoying you.”

Jin’s handsome features tugged into a wry smile and he walked through your room to where you sat, hovering above you for a moment before leaning forward to kiss your forehead gently. “And I adore YOU, princess.”

“Our parents are quite fortunate we’re fond of each other. Can you imagine what they’d do if we were sworn enemies and betrothed to be married?”

“Now, that WOULD be a problem, wouldn’t it?” Jin hummed, pretending to mull over it in his mind. “I can only imagine how awkward that would be.” He took your hands and gently pulled you to your feet, swiftly stealing your spot after.

“Hey!” You protested, crossing your arms.

Jin grinned mischievously, gripping your hips and tugging you down onto his lap. He peppered kisses across your cheeks, causing you to giggle and attempt to break from his grasp. “Oh no, you’re not getting away that easy.”

“Jin! I have things to do!” You struggled against him, laughing all the while.

“Like what, reading in your window? You didn’t look terribly busy when I came in, your highness.”

“I have to pick out a dress for YOUR birthday party, thank you very much.”

“Well, in that case, let me see.”

“You’d have to let me up first, though.”

“Oh. Nevermind then.”

“Jinnnnn~” You whined, laughing as you continued to try to fight him. Finally, he succumbed and let you go so you could fetch your gown from the wardrobe. You pulled out the two options you’d narrowed your vast array of clothes to for him to pick from. The first gown was pink and glittering gold, the colors of Jin’s kingdom. The second was blue with streams of silver, the colors of YOUR kingdom.

“A bold choice, don’t you think?” Jin let his lips curl into the slightest grin as he walked over to where you were standing, one arm snaking around your waist as he reached out to touch the fabric of the pink gown’s skirt. He leaned into your ear and murmured, “Wearing my colors…”

“That’s why I picked it.” You grinned and turned your head to peck his cheek. “So...do you think I should play it safe, or…?”

“I think you should wear whichever dress you’d like. But...I would love to see just how ravishing you look in my colors, princess.”

You turned to face Jin, tugging him down to your level and pressing your lips against his. “Then I think the decision is made.”

***

The evening of Jin’s birthday ball, you put on your glittering pink gown, pulled your hair into an intricate updo, and made your way down to the ballroom, where the party had already started.

You scanned the crowd in search of Jin, and spotted him standing over by the cake, talking to three of the other princes from neighboring kingdoms, Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin. You’d grown up alongside them, practically, as you were left to play together when your parents held diplomatic meetings concerning politics and trade agreements.

Taehyung’s features lit up immediately when he set eyes on you and he waved, motioning you over to join the rest of them. The middle one of the younger princes was wearing purple and white, the colors of his kingdom’s flag, while Jimin and Jungkook were wearing scarlet, as they were brothers from the same kingdom.

The princes watched you in awe and surprise as they took in the gown you were wearing. Usually, you wore blue. They had almost never seen you in anything but blue, and yet here you were, draped in Jin’s colors, a statement if there ever was one.

“Princess.” Jin bowed politely, a knowing smile adorning his handsome features. “A pleasure, as always.”

“Ah, Prince Seokjin, how nice to see you. Happy birthday.” You curtsied. As much as you hated not being able to be as affectionate with him in public, it was fun to watch him squirm.

“So...you two are…” Jimin pointed from you to Jin and back, the wheels turning behind his warm brown eyes. “Everything makes sense now.”

“I don’t get it.” Jungkook looked to his hyungs for an explanation. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ll tell you when you’re older.” You teased, pinching the youngest’s cheek.

“That’s no fair!” Jungkook whined, sick of the same explanation he’d always been given, seeing as all of his closest friends were older than him.

Before he could further protest, though, a graceful ring resounded through the ballroom, causing the chatter to cease. The king was standing now, looking on his son with love in his eyes.

“Oh, Seokjin, my oldest and only son. I am so proud of the young man you’ve become. And this day marks the beginning of something new, a new chapter in your life, a new page in your story, a new dawn on the horizon.”

You looked up at Jin as his father spoke. He stood there, his broad shoulders stiff as every eye in the castle settled on him. You admired him quietly for a moment. There he was, your prince in shining armor, the man you were betrothed to, your best friend in the world. You knew that someday, he’d make a great king, and you were honored to be his queen.

For a brief moment, his eyes found yours and he took a breath. Jin was never sure why, but you’d always had that effect on him. Anytime something was wrong, when he looked at you, everything seemed alright again, even if it was only for a little while. He thanked you silently, mouthing the words so subtly that you were the only one that would have noticed.

“...And now, the blessings.”

The king motioned to the grand skylight above the ballroom and in they came, fluttering down to the floor with grace. You’d met them on several occasions, Jin’s fairy godfathers. They hated to be called that, as they were about the same age as the prince himself. Namjoon, the one who usually wore green, was adamant about using the title of ‘Protectors’ instead, but you and the rest of your royal friends liked to tease them every chance you got.

Once they had landed, the three walked toward Jin, swirls of power manifesting around each of them. Namjoon was the first to produce his wand, long and white. He held it gracefully. He must have been practicing. You’d seen him fumble and drop it more than once.

“Prince Seokjin, I grant you the gift of voice. May your subjects listen attentively and heed your wisdom.” Namjoon waved his wand and a cascade of green shimmers fell over Jin.

Next was Hoseok, dressed all in red. He cleared his throat. “My gift to you, Prince Seokjin, is the gift of strength, that you might bear the weight of the kingdom on your shoulders someday.” After he uttered his blessing, Hoseok showered Jin in magic next, leaving only Yoongi, the shortest of the three, to speak to the prince next.

Yoongi raised his wand and opened his mouth to cast his spell, but as soon as he did, bright green flames of hellfire erupted from the center of the room and the candles all went out.

Immediately, at the first sign of trouble, Jin pulled you behind his broad shoulders. You couldn’t see out from behind him, and something told you you didn’t want to.

“Well, well, well,” an icy voice chilled the room. You’d heard that voice only once, when you were a small child. It was the voice of Jin’s aunt, the queen’s sister, who had been banished from the kingdom many years earlier for the attempted murder of the queen herself. Callista, as she’d taken to calling herself, was in love with the king, so she figured by eliminating the queen, she could take him for her own. It was young Jin who had uncovered the plot.

The fact that she had shown up to Jin’s twenty-first birthday party couldn’t be a coincidence.

“What a lovely party. I was quite distressed to not receive an invitation…” Callista pouted and then looked to the king, her mock disappointment melting into a sly grin.

“You’re not wanted here, witch!” The king boomed, raising his scepter and standing from his throne. “Leave this place before I do much worse than banish you.”

“Not wanted here...well, I suppose I’ll just have to bestow my gift upon the prince before I make my exit.” The King moved to stop her, as did the Queen, but they soon found their feet stuck to the floor, as did Jin.

“Jin…” Your voice came out shaky and frail from your hiding spot behind him.

“Don’t move, princess. It’ll be okay. I love you.” He reached back and took your hand, giving it a squeeze. He wished he could turn around and look at you one last time, but he couldn’t give your position away. If anything happened to you because of him, he’d never forgive himself.

“I love you too…” You whispered.

Callista beckoned him forward with her crooked finger and his feet slid against the floor as his body was dragged towards her. You could only watch as he was forced away from you and towards his wicked aunt, who looked all too happy to see him.

“What a handsome little prince you’ve turned out to be, Seokjin.” She cooed, pinching his face harshly. He flinched. “Hmm...what can you give the prince who has everything?”

Callista went quiet for a few moments before looking over her nephew, thinking of what she could possibly inflict on him. Suddenly, it clicked, and her eyes glowed green. “Ah, yes, of course. A busy prince like yourself must need a break from his duties.” She lit a spell in her hand and held it up in front of her, murmuring the terms of her curse. “On the eve of your twenty-fifth birthday, you shall prick your finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and fall into a sleep-like death for all of eternity.”

There was a puff of smoke and she vanished, the inhabitants of the ballroom finally coming free from her hold. You looked to Jin, unsure of what to do. He was crying, wide shoulders shaking with every ragged breath. You wanted to run into his arms and hold him and wipe his tears away, but you weren’t allowed to do those things unless it was behind closed doors, especially not at a function like this, in front of all the world’s royalty and their guests.

It was Yoongi who finally broke the silence, looking to the king, and then to Jin. He and Namjoon spoke briefly and then the fairy dressed in blue raised his wand. “Y-your majesty, I haven’t given my gift yet.” Yoongi swallowed thickly, determined not to mess this up. He only had one chance to rectify what Callista had done.

Both Jin and the king were silent, but Jin nodded, wiping away his tears and preparing himself for yet another spell to weave itself into his being.

“My gift to you, Prince Seokjin, is to lessen the curse of Callista. You will indeed fall into a sleep like death, but it will be undone by the magic of true love.” Yoongi waved his wand, sealing the magic into the prince. True love. Yes, true love would save the day.

“Guests of the kingdom, thank you for coming, but due to the circumstances, we will be ending the party early. That is all.” The king announced, causing the partygoers to scatter.

You looked to Jin, catching his eyes for a moment before mouthing ‘my chambers’ and walking off with the others. You would figure things out together. What other choice did you have?

***

It was a few hours later that there was finally a knock on your door. You walked to it, opening it slowly, only for Jin to collapse into your arms, holding you tightly, like you were his boat in a surging sea. He sobbed into your shoulder, tears soaking the silk of your evening gown in instants.

You rubbed soothing circles in his back, your other hand combing through his hair. “What’s going on? What are we going to do?”

“My f-father is sending me away. He’s afraid Callista will come back.” Jin cried. “I’m going to live in the woods with Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi until the curse is passed.”

“That’s...it’ll be fine, Jin, I promise. If Namjoon supports the idea, it’s probably for the best.”

“I-I know it is, but I’ll n-never get to see you again.”

“Jinnie, Yoongi fixed it, remember? It’ll be okay.”

“But what if it didn’t work? What if his spell didn’t do anything to fight the curse and I’m just…(Y/N), I’m so scared.”

“I know you are. But we have to have hope, alright? Look at me.” Jin pulled out of your shoulder to look into your eyes. You reached up and wiped the tears off of his cheeks before pulling him in for a long kiss. “I love you. I love you so much, Jin. We’re going to be okay.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Then I won’t rest until you are.”

***

That night, before the stars had even fully come out from their hiding places, Jin’s things were packed and the carriage left the castle. You didn’t even get to say goodbye. It nearly broke your heart. You weren’t sure where his protectors were taking him, and you weren’t even sure if you could visit him, wherever he was. You doubted it would be safe. Surely, a princess traveling through the woods would draw attention.

Without Jin’s regular visits to your castle, your life grew boring and gray. You still saw Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung, sure, but the man you loved was off somewhere out of your sight and it was killing you, twisting and burning you from the inside out.

It took a few months, but finally, you received some news from Jin in the form of a very short note.

“My love,

I miss you terribly. I want this separation to end. I wish I could visit you. I want nothing more than to kiss you and hold you in my arms.

Yours,

Jin”

His message made your heart melt. Though it was short and sweet, it made the hole in your soul feel a little bit smaller, if only for a little while.

Word from Jin was infrequent. You’d been using a raven to send back some messages of your own, but with the kingdoms surrounding Jin’s still reeling from the visit of Callista and her horrible curse, the ravens were almost always occupied sending messages of some kind. It was hard to track one down before someone sent if off again.

Eventually, you grew tired of your castle, a few weeks before Jin’s next birthday. You could hardly believe that much time had passed since you’d last seen him. Each day had dragged into the next, blurring into a mind-numbing sludge of moments where each was duller than the last. You tried not to overhear your parents when they met with the other royals, but sometimes you couldn’t help yourself. It wasn’t like they were telling you anything anyway. After listening to a few of their meetings, however, you began to wish you hadn’t. They were making a plan for your future, should Jin’s curse remain permanent. This meant a new betrothal, but instead to someone who wasn’t the love of your life.

It wasn’t something you wanted to deal with, so instead, you snuck down to the kitchen, asking the chef to whip up something special before taking it down to the stables. You tried to leave quietly, but ended up waking the stable boy, a young curly-haired boy named Sanha, and after promising to bring him sweets, he agreed to keep your little trip secret.

Off you rode, galloping through the trees, your special parcel fastened tightly against the saddle. You weren’t quite sure where to go, but even after this long, there was still a trail of sparkles leftover from Jin’s protectors in their rush to get him to safety. You only hoped it would be enough to find him. It had been so long since you’d seen him that you were afraid you were beginning to forget his face, his voice, how his lips felt against yours.

The trees began to blur together after a while, your thighs aching from hugging the saddle and the motion of riding through the woods. Soon, it would all be worth it, you knew, but in the moment, it wasn’t so pleasant.

Finally, after hours of riding, you found the end of the blue sparkles, a quaint little cottage tucked into the woods. After hopping down onto solid ground again, you led your steed into the little stable and let him drink from the trough, petting through his mane carefully.

“Can I help you?” You knew that voice. Immediately, you wondered why the love of your life didn’t recognize you, but realized you had a hood covering your head and you were wearing a peasant’s gown in order to draw less attention.

“I have a parcel here.” You played along, unfastening the package from your horse’s saddle. “A birthday present for someone very special.”

You turned around to face Jin finally, after nearly a year of separation, and watched as his features melted from confusion to realization, and finally, tears sparkled in his brilliant brown eyes.

“J-jagiya…” Jin ran forward and took you in his arms, crushing you to his strong chest. He pressed a dozen kisses to your forehead and cheeks. His blond hair was dyed brown, and his pink regal attire had been traded for bland brown peasant garments instead. Had you not known who he was, you would have never guessed this peasant boy was the heir to an entire kingdom. “How did you find me?”

“I followed the-”

“Princess?” Yoongi opened the door, investigating the sound of hooves and immediately fearing the worst. This, however, was not the news he was expecting at all. This was so much better. It meant his plan had worked.

“Tell them to come inside.” Namjoon called from within the little cottage. Yoongi nodded and held the door open for the two of you. You shrugged off your cloak and Jin hung it from a hook by the door. Then, you set the parcel on the table so Jin could open it.

Namjoon was in the kitchen with Hoseok, aprons tied around their waists and flour caked in their hair. Why Yoongi wasn’t in the kitchen instead, you weren’t sure, but if there was anything you knew about Namjoon and Hoseok, it was that chaos usually followed them.

“Can I open it?”

“Well, it is for you.” You pushed it closer to the prince and he smiled softly as he tugged at the twine tying the package together. Inside, were the raspberry pastries Jin was so fond of. He gasped softly and pulled you into his arms.

“Thank you so much.”

“I wanted to bring you a cheesecake, but I was afraid it wouldn’t make the trip in one piece.”

“This is perfect, jagi.” He silenced your explanation with a kiss on your forehead. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

You and Jin each had a few pastries before he tucked them away in the cupboard and led you up the stairs to his bedroom. It was nothing like his home in the castle. None of the wood tones matched and there was a tear in his curtains. His bed was pushed close to the window, a few stray books on his shelf. There wasn’t even a mirror in the small space. You had no idea how he’d gone this long without looking at his reflection.

“Do you...like it here?” You asked him as he laid down in his bed, patting the space next to him. You clambered in beside him.

“I’ve always gotten along with Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon, and the cottage is nice enough, but...It will always feel empty without you here.” Jin confessed, brushing the hair out of your face. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I don’t want to leave.” You reassured him, placing a hand on his broad chest. Your eyes wandered from his handsome face to the window behind him. “But...I know I have to, in a few days’ time at least.”

“Well then,” Jin exhaled a sigh and wrapped you up in his long arms, his crooked fingers carefully untangling the long strands of your hair, “I guess we’ll just have to make the most of the time we have…”

Tagged:  @iie-wakarimasen ,  @demonic-meatball , @backtonormalthings

[pumpkinmutual]

Prince Charming [Prince!Wooyoung][1 of 2]

in which ellie actually has no idea how to write royals but let’s geddit

--

“We’re going to get in trouble for this.”

“No we won’t,” insists the young man in front of you before he turns, giving you as threatening of a look as he can when he’s shrouded in darkness save for the torch in his hand, puffing his chest out for dramatic effect. “As long as you keep quiet!”

You glare. “I just don’t want to get yelled at for one of your silly ideas, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung gives you another look, eyes almost comically wide, trying to give off an air of innocence. “When have I gotten you into trouble?”

“Just yesterday, I got in trouble for abandoning my lesson because you swore you’d seen a cat loose in the gardens. And the day before that—"

“Okay okay,” Wooyoung relents, bringing his hands up, “so I’ve made a couple of mistakes. This time will be different, I promise!”

You frown. “I doubt that.”

Wooyoung puts a hand over his heart. “You wound me, you know that? Your lack of faith in me, after all these years of friendship—”

“Wooyoung, be real. I’d hardly call us friends.”

At your remark, something like genuine hurt glimmers in Wooyoung’s eyes for a moment before it disappears and he reaches forward to grab your hand, other readjusting his grip on the heavy torch so that he doesn’t drop it. “Too bad,” he says, “you’re stuck with me.”

 ---

“You did what?”

“Seonghwa, you’re yelling,” you say, ignoring your friend’s incredulous look. “I don’t see what the big deal is, for once we didn’t actually get caught.”

“But you snuck out to the catacombs with Wooyoung of all people—”

“That’s Prince Wooyoung to you,” cuts in a familiar, lazy drawl and you look up to find the boy leaning in the doorway of the study, giving Seonghwa an amused look. “I brought her back in one piece, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Seonghwa says, “but that doesn’t mean either of you should have been out there! If her mother catches wind that she was out there – that I let her out of my sight – that you were out there too, I –”

“Seonghwa,” you say, standing from your chair to brace your hands against your friend’s shoulders to keep him from hyperventilating, “calm down. My mother is off on business and father is so occupied with military reinforcements that I highly doubt they’re on edge for your report on how my studies in our neighboring kingdom are going.”

“But you’re the Crown Princess,” Seonghwa says in a pained tone, “you can’t just go galivanting around wherever you please all the time. The point of this trip was so you would learn how to conduct yourself as a foreign dignitary, not get caught up in Prince Wooyoung’s antics.”

“Well,” Wooyoung says almost thoughtfully, “we’ve been friends since we were children.”

“That doesn’t make it right.” Seonghwa’s expression softens as he looks at you. “I’m not trying to sound stuffy I promise, I just don’t want this to end badly.”

“I know you don’t,” you say, moving to embrace your tutor gently. He returns the embrace, and you pull back with a soft, affectionate smile. “We won’t get into anymore trouble. No more sneaking out, no nighttime adventures. Right, Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung blinks from where he’s been standing this entire time, then he smiles brightly. “Right.”

 --

“You know,” you remark, “I really do feel bad for lying to Seonghwa.”

“He’s going to get gray hair before he’s in his thirties,” Wooyoung answers, “he needs to relax. Besides, as if I’d let anything happen to you while I’m around.”

Though his tone doesn’t waver, your attention drops to his hand that’s wrapped around your own and you wonder if you imagine it tightening just a little. The warmth of his fingers is reassuring, and you tell yourself that the sudden excited lurch of your heart has less to do with that and more with the fact that you’re back in the catacombs.

“What are we even looking for?” you ask, watching the torch throw your shadows against the wall, shivering at the edges and sending a chill down your spine. Wooyoung hums thoughtfully.

“Something interesting,” he answers at last. “I’ve never been this far down in the catacombs. My father says that all our predecessors were buried here. Kings, Kings, and more Kings.” His tone shifts, something bitter cutting the humor out of his words. “Nice to know I’ll be buried here someday.”

“Not for a long time,” you chip in, “and by then things will have changed. After all, you’ll be King.”

“As if they’d let me change things just because I don’t like them.” Wooyoung lets go of your hand and you quickly stifle the sudden flare of disappointment. “My father has started adding to my lessons and bringing me along with him on more trips. I think he’s preparing me.”

You’re silent for a long moment. Though Wooyoung’s father was by no means an idle King, near everyone knew of the man’s rather frequent turns in poor health and whispers had begun of how limited his reign truly was.

Though you know the lessons that Wooyoung is going through, you can’t imagine the weight of preparing to become King and dealing with the impending loss of his father. Though Wooyoung is not one to show much emotion beyond his usual cheer and charm (so he calls it), you know that it’s starting to get to him.

The silence that falls is more than a little tense as you scramble to find the right words to say, stepping closer to Wooyoung and reaching out a hesitant hand to take his into yours. “For what it’s worth,” you say, “I think you’re going to be a wonderful King.”

Wooyoung looks up, and it seems strange not to see a smile on his face. He looks older in that moment, aware of the weight upon his shoulders. He looks nothing like the little prince you’d meet so long ago, boxy smile and bright laughter that you’ve never been able to forget.

“Do you really think so? I mean you—”

“This isn’t about me,” you cut in, “this is about you. You’re you, Wooyoung. And that’s how I know you’re going to be a wonderful King, just like your father is.”

Wooyoung watches you silently for another long moment before he shifts and you’re suddenly being held to him in a tight hug that leaves you stunned for a long moment, attention on the mass that your joined shadows have become on the wall. “Thank-you,” Wooyoung murmurs, voice low and soft in your ear. “That means a lot, coming from someone like you.”

The wording makes you blink, confused as you pull away. “Someone like me?”

Wooyoung hesitates. “I just mean, you’ve always acted like a Princess, even when I’m dragging you around into my stupid ideas and of course your word means a lot, after all I—” he cuts himself off abruptly, as if he’s realized what he’s saying.

“Wooyoung?”

“You’re my friend,” he says after a pause, though his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “We should probably get back before Seonghwa notices that you’ve snuck out again. Come on.”

You frown. “But what about—”

Wooyoung reaches to take your hand and this time, you don’t imagine the way that he squeezes, or the impulse that flares to lace your fingers with his. “Come on,” he prompts again, “let’s go home.”

He tugs you along gently and for a minute, you forget that you’re wading through muck, surrounded by the age softened bones of the long dead in Wooyoung’s family. You forget that you’re miles and miles away from your actual home, staring at the back of Wooyoung’s head. Something soft has taken root somewhere deep in your chest, curling tentative tendrils of warmth that makes you smile.

“Yeah,” you murmur, and squeeze his hand back. “Home.”

[imagiluminary]

A Goodnight Call (JuriSana Short Story)

[Inside the private plane]

Sana's POV

As soon as I wanted to close my eyes and sleep, my phone buzzing, I got a call. From her.

Sana: Oh, hello

Jurina: Oh hi, did I wake you up?

Sana: No, I'm just about to sleep

Jurina: Oh, sorry to disturb you

Sana: It's okay, all other members are already sleep, so, I'm awake here alone.

Jurina: Well, you got me.

Sana: You know what? I've missed you already. Even though we were literally in the same room yesterday.

Jurina: yeah, hectic schedule, it's obviously our daily routine haha.

Sana: aww, you're so cute.

Jurina: no I'm not, believe me

Sana: We never have a proper date

Jurina: Yet, we don't yet have a proper date.

Sana: I wish I could visit you someday.

Jurina: hmm...

Jurina: How about, we will have a date right after the kohaku ended?

Sana: Wait, what do you mean?

Jurina: You, me, dinner after Kohaku event.

Sana: How can you pull that stunt to my leader Jihyo?

Jurina: I can handle that

Sana: And by handle you mean get grabby-grabby towards her? I'll cut your hands first if you ever do that.

Jurina: Wow, chill, besides, if you cut my hands, you won't ever experience these fingers.

Sana: STOP BEING PERVY JURINA!

Oops...

Sana: I just raised my voice, luckily no one wakes up.

Jurina: okay then, rest well baby, see you tomorrow morning

Sana: But I still miss you

Jurina: And you have to preserve your energy for tomorrow. Get some sleep babe, you'll need it.

Sana: okay baby, you too, you sleep well and have a good night.

Jurina: good night princess Minatozaki Sana

Sana: Prince Matsui Jurina

[mako-lies]

Finished my first (of hopefully two) fic for @ffxv-ladiesweek. This is for day three, focus on Luna :D You can read it here or on AO3.

A Welcome Interruption (ffxv, luna/sania, g)

Lunafreya stumbles upon Sania Yeager on her way to the Disk. She never thought she'd have opportunity to meet the brilliant scientist.

The threat of daemons emerges as the stars do. Luna sights the blue smoke just in time, and thanks the knowledge of the havens she carries in her blood. Since the Fall of Insomnia, she’s had precious little time to rest.

(More weight to carry. She fears she may buckle under it before her destiny is completed. Still, she wears the hair pin proudly. Nyx’s words still ring within her. And of dear King Regis, she has but the kind memory of his smile and the Ring she must bear to Noctis.)

A chill wind tears through the gauze of her dress. Intended for diplomacy, it would not have been her first choice for travel attire. Gentiana’s voice is gentle as ever Seek the haven. Though it be blessed by Oracle blood, it will grant you, too, temporary succor.

Fire-smoke trails lazily to the sky. Perhaps hunters make camp here. She hauls herself onto the flat, runed rock. A small table has been erected beside a tent. Nearby—surprisingly near—frogs croak and croak. Luna thinks perhaps they are at the haven, though why they would be…

A distracted woman with a red hat and pigtails like twin clouds busies herself at the table. She murmurs, “Has to be yellow next, no doubt about that.”

Luna hates to impose, but she has seen nothing so inviting as that fire in a long, long time. “I apologize for disturbing you, but might I warm myself by your fire?”

The woman gazes at her with furrowed brow. Intent. A stunning focus that seems as though it can fill Luna to bursting. If she is surprised, her countenance doesn’t show it. She is beautiful, with warm brown skin and warmer eyes that are so vibrant they nearly make Luna weak to her knees. (Or, Gentiana laughs as she reminds her perhaps it is but simple want of rest and sustenance.)

“Well, it’s no imposition if you don’t interrupt my work. Still, not every day the Oracle comes to Duscae.”

Luna sits on her knees far enough enough from the flames that they cannot lick her hem. “Thank you. Might I have your name. As it seems you already know mine.” Perhaps Luna is interrupting, but the heat seeps into her, and it’s lovely enough that even the bitter taste of smoke cannot remind her of—

“Sania.” There’s a long pause, and then Sania sighs. “Science normally waits for no one,” she says, almost accusingly, but before Luna can apologize, she continues, “But it’ll make an exception. Just for tonight—and don’t you go spreading it around, or every stray prince and princess will think it’s okay to waste my time!”

There is some poorly veiled message there, but Luna is too stalled to parse it. Sania Yeager? Could this be the Dr. Yeager? The woman whose reports and studies made science magical all those days spent with her tutor? The woman who had connected her mother’s observations on the Starscourge and historical references to the Scourge with changes in the ecosystem? “Sania… Yeager? Are you actually Sania Yeager?”

“That’s me,” she says as she heats water on the camp stove. “But I’m afraid I’m not giving lessons at the moment.”

Luna laughs somewhat wistfully. Wouldn’t it be incredible to have the time? To learn and practice science as she’d dreamed all those years ago. The ability to connect the magick in her blood with empirical data? It cannot be, but still, she has lived a dream today—and beneath the exhaustion, giddiness makes itself known. It it muted, perhaps, by all that she must carry (the memories she holds), but still, joy is a wonderful thing. “I understand. I’m… merely a fan.”

Her words drift like blue haven smoke as Sania hands her a mug of chamomile tea. The simple act of kindness makes Luna’s eyes water. She cannot trust her voice not to shatter, so she nods her thanks. Insufficient. Sania grins at her. “Go on now. You drink that, and the soup’ll be heated by then. Isn’t much, but it’ll warm you right up.”

Sometime later, Luna blinks to realize that she has finished both tea and soup, and at some point, Sania had sat beside her and begun reading over thick packets of paper. “Thank you,” says Luna, feeling bleary. “You are very kind.”

“Back with me, then? Good. Why don’t you go sleep in the tent, hmm? Seems you have a long way left to go.” Sania pats her shoulder without looking up from her work.

It’s so soft. Gentle. Luna barely keeps herself from leaning into the touch. “I’m enjoying the company. I always dreamed I’d get a chance to meet you. I’m fascinated by science.”

“Well, I can’t fault you for that,” Sania hums in thought. “Nothing for it then. But how about you borrow some clothes? Yours are bit worse for wear, there.”

Luna can only accept. She is used to relying on the kindness of strangers, traveling between villages as she does. Did? Mere moments later, she is clad in soft, worn jeans and an oversized sweatshirt that reads “scientists do it with reproducible results.”

She stands behind where Sania is reading. “Thank you, for tolerating my interruption. Might I trouble you for one last thing?”

“You mean, apart from me getting you to the Disk in the morning?” How did she—? “Don’t look so surprised. There’s only a handful of things in Duscae that would bring the Oracle. And one’s still at that Chocobo Post.”

Luna flushes. “Thank you,” she says, again.

“Now, what else did you want?” Sania gazes up at her with that soft, intent look again, and Luna—well, she’s only human.

She settles beside Sania and carefully rests her head on her shoulder, tense as she waits for rebuff. Instead, Sania puffs a laugh. “Oh, is that all? Well. It has been awhile for me, too. Married to my work, they say. Let’s get you settled, then. So I can keep at it. You know how it is.”

Sania rearranges Luna with gentle hands, until Luna is curled on the ground, and her head rests in Sania’s lap. One hand holds her research, the other combs through Luna’s now freed hair. Luna clutches her hair pin to herself as her eyes drag closed. “I always wanted to be a scientist,” she admits.

“Well, you’re in luck. Anybody can be a scientist if they do science. Sleep now, and someday, I’ll show you.”

And wouldn’t that just be incredible? More than anything, she wants to stay like this and get to know this brilliant, kind woman. But she drifts off knowing that, for now, morning must surely come and her destiny with it.

[browniefox]

Chills Running Down Your Spine

Pro No Evens of @trulymightypotato‘s Royal Expectations.

Gar, Snow, and cold.

Also known as four times Gar felt the cold and Snow didn’t, and one time that was swapped.

admittedly this was written pretty quickly but I still like it

+1

--o o- o-o

“Snow!”

Gar pressed his face up against the glass, breath fogging up the window as he stared at the fluffy of white just outside.

“The first one of the season.” His sister commented, also watching frozen water falling to the ground.

“Can we go out?” His sister couldn’t help but to smile fondly. Her brother was a teenager, but for a rare moment she could almost image he was a little kid again, not being trained for war. Not having too many responsibilities on his shoulders.

“Yeah, why not. Don’t forget to put on a cloak!” She called after him as he rushed off, but it was too late, Gar was already rushing out the closest door. Perhaps she should rush after him. It wouldn’t do for the prince to get a cold. But she had to let him have this. It would only be a matter of time before the harsh hands of death ripped the last of his childishness from him. So she had to let him have it, this moment.

Anyway, Gar ran back in on his own,.

“It’s too cold!” Gar shivered a bit, arms wrapped tightly around himself.

“That’s how you get snow.” His sister chuckled.

“I know.” Gar stared at the door, as if trying to decide whether or not to go right back out. “I just… you only get your first snow of the year once. I didn’t want to see it go by.”

He knew. She could hear it in those words. He knew that it wouldn’t be long until he’d have to leave everything behind, and he was trying to enjoy it.

“Let’s at least get something a bit warmer. The snow isn’t going anywhere.” The princess smiled at him. “It’s been ages since I last obliterated you in a snowball fight.”

“Hey! Now you’re not the only one who knows war tactics!” Gar shot back as they both went to grab their cloaks.

ooo -o --- o--

“Snow, you have to take off your cloak.”

Bluescale’s foot tapped the white-covered stones as she waited for the protector to leave the shadows. He had the thick fabric wrapped tightly around him as he left the relative warmth near the building and went farther out into the flurry of snow.

“I’m sure I can feel if I’m doing it from inside of my cloak.” Snow shot back, but his hands were already peeking out of the sleeves and fidgeting with the clasp.

“We already know you can do it against small bits of cold, this is the real trick!” Bluescale toed off her boot and very deliberately stuck her foot into a patch of snow.

“Okay okay.” The dragon watched as the magic cords in Snow seemed to brighten, coursing through him as he literally worked his magic. They’d been playing around with this for a while. Snow’s magic was so similar to Bluescale’s they just had to give it a try, see how similar they really were and what they could both do. Snow carried the cloak in his arms, face scrunched up in concentration. Bluescale waited a moment for a reaction.

“It’s… not too cold?” Snow offered. “Just a bit chilly.”

“I knew you could do it!” Bluescale wrapped him in a proud hug. “You’re growing up so fast!”

“Hey, I’m going to be bound soon! I’m not a kid!” And just like that Snow’s concentration broke, the cold hitting him like a hammer, and he immediately started shivering.

“Guess we’ll  have to work on it more.” Bluescale commented as Snow quickly put his cloak back on, snuggling up into it.

“Definitely. But hey, we’ve got it to work.” Snow gave her a smile.

“Just wait, before you’re out of here you’re going to be a pro at ice magic.” Bluescale promised as they walked inside.

+2

“Hey, this is no fair.”

“You’re just saying that because you keep losing.”

Which, well, that was true. But Gar wasn’t about to tell that to Snow. Snow swiftly put his sword back in its sheath as he put out a hand to help Gar up. Gar’s pride didn’t let him take it as he got to his feet on his own, internally at the amount of strength he needed. Technically, even losing was good practice still. He’d never practiced fighting in winter armor enough, and the weather definitely called for it. The winds blew chilling air, and the normal armor left him absolutely frozen.

Which was where Snow was cheating. Cheating by still wearing the lighter-weight, non-furred armor meant for warmer months. He wasn’t even shivering. Just standing straight, waiting for what Gar would do next. They may be bonded, but for whatever the reason the ice between them was still having a bit of a hard time breaking.

“I think we should take a break.” Gar sighed, feeling like by saying that he was losing even more.

“Okay.” Snow nodded, waiting for Gar to take the first step back in. Gar reluctantly headed back in, a bit too aware of the protector following close behind him. Yeah, having a personal guard was still taking a lot of getting used to. They both removed their armor, Gar taking much longer than Snow as he slowly worked through all of the layers. And with winter coming, it was only going to get worse. He could only hope that he wouldn’t be called out to where the real fighting was going on until it was at least Spring.

They reached for the door handle into the main halls of the castle at the same time, hands brushing, and Gar quickly jerked his hand back. He had just touched such a freezing object, one that had obviously been chilled by the winds for hours. The object was, of course, Snow’s hands. Snow, who wasn’t even wearing gloves in an effort to warm them up. In fact he still didn’t look affected in the slightest.

“Alright, fine, I give, I’ll bite.” Gar set his hand on the door, stopping Snow from leaving. Snow on his part just looked a bit confused. “How can you stand it?”

Snow raised an eyebrow, and he opened his mouth before closing it again. Gar had the distinct impression a snarky remark had almost left that mouth. And Gar knew the guy could be more than the smooth monolithe of perfect guard he seemed to determined to pretend to be. “Stand what?”

“The cold! You must’ve been freezing out there! Is this all just a part of your act to prove you were raised to be a better fighter than me? Like I can’t possibly take care of myself or survive this freaking war without somebody constantly watching my back? I was raised during a war period too, I think I can at least make my way around the castle without being attacked and killed thanks.” Frick. Yep. That just spilled out. Gar felt his cheeks heat up as he looked away. Frick. He had to spend the rest of his life with this guy. He shouldn’t be causing problems. Snow gave what sounded like a small cough, then a louder cough, and then Gar realized the guy was laughing. He looked back at his protector to find an actual smile on his face.

“And here I thought you hated me.” Gar started to say something to defend himself, but Snow just swung the door open. “You do know protecting you is literally my job. Like, the magic would kill me if I didn’t. I’m going to go sneak some food from the kitchens.”

“O… kay.” Gar watched as Snow started to walk down the hall before turning around for a moment.

“And Gar? It’s just a bit of magic.”

+3

“Snow. You should rest.”

Gar sat close to the fire, enjoying the warmth it offered. Snow didn’t move from his spot by the treeline.

“Somebody has to watch out for demons.” Snow answered back.

“We are in an entire camp of soldier who would be willing to take your spot for a while.” Gar tried to reason, but Snow still didn’t move.

“Gar. Let me do this. I can take the night chill.”

Gar stared at Snow’s back, at the tension in the shoulders, and sighed. He left the comfort of the flames to stand by his protector’s side. Yep. He was crying. Those were definitely tears running down his face.

“Snow...”

“HE DIDN’T DESERVE TO DIE!” Several of the other soldier posted nearby, also watching the woods, looked over at the shout, but quickly looked away. They all knew what that crack in a voice meant. They’d all had their fair share of agonized screams into the woods.

“I know.” Gar looked back out at the darkness deep into the woods.

“He didn’t deserve it.” Gar had done his grieving, and it was still a gaping wound in his heart, but… Snow always tried so hard to act the part of a Protector, a Royal Protector. A leader that the others could look to. He bottled things up too much.

Sometimes Gar wondered what Snow’s life would’ve been like if he hadn’t been born. Snow wouldn’t be a protector. He wouldn’t have the terrible weight.

“It’s cold.” Gar stepped closer to Snow.

“Go back to the fire Gar.”

“No.” Gar stubbornly stood his ground. “Your hair’s a mess.”

“It’s been hard to manage it. You know, rumor has it there’s a war going on.” Snow self consciously lifted a hand to his head. To say it was getting shaggy was somewhat of an understatement. Something stopped being shaggy when you can pull it back into a ponytail. “You look exhausted.”

“Likewise.”

+4

ooo -o --- o--

Snow stared at his hands.

He couldn’t feel them. Like they had been numbed.

“Why are you hands always cold?”

The small hand of Amarllys found it’s way onto his.

“I’ll tell you someday Ryl.” Snow closed his hand around hers. He ignored the pang it brought, like he was betraying Gar somehow by being able to spend time with the daughter he’d never even seen.

“Don’t you want to warm them up?” She put her other hand over his and rubbed his hand.

“It doesn’t bother me.” I don’t feel it. I’m dead. I’m not supposed to be alive.

“Why not?”

“It’s a magic I learned when I was young.” No. That wasn’t true. Not anymore. But he needed her not to freak out. To stay on this horse with him. She was a child, she wasn’t meant to go through this for so long. Such a long travel. Then again, the same could be said for most of the Protectors whisked away at a young age.

Not that there would be too many of those for while.

“Snow?”

“Yes Ryl?”

“Can you tell me about my daddy again? What was his favorite color? Did he like horses? What did he smell like?”

She was so curious about Gar. A man he would someday have to break to her she would have to hope never to see.

And so the Protector told the Princess about the Prince as he brought her to be locked away in a place guarded by dragons.

-1

ooo -o --- o--

The body was too exhausted to do much with.

The Body.

Much better than trying to figure out whether to refer to it as His Body or Gar’s Body.

And the exhaustion drained on Snow. It was taking every part of him just to stay alive. He couldn’t be bothered to even attempt to keep the cold off of him. It seeped down through the skin and into the bone, colder than he’d felt in a long time. Over a thousand years.

Breathing hurt. And while Snow knew - KNEW - it was because of what The Body had been through before he had been into it, he couldn’t help but to wonder if it was also just because he wasn’t used to doing it. Out of practice on how to use lungs.

“You should be asleep.” he said the words into the room. Molly had thought she was being quiet, perhaps thought that Snow as asleep, but he had heard her enter, tiptoeing to the bedside chair.

“S-sorry. I… I can’t sleep.”

“When this body is better, we’ll be leaving for the Guardians. And you’ll need to have enough energy to do it. Exhaustion will not help with that.”

“I know.”

“Is the necklace not helping?” The talking was already getting tiring.

“No, it is. That’s not why I couldn’t sleep.” Snow waited patiently. “I… Snow, I don’t know you.”

“Yes.” The guilt buried itself deeper. He wasn’t who she needed. He had failed to give her back that person.

“But you don’t deserve to be alone.”

Didn’t he? He had failed his royal so many times. He had taken things that weren’t his. A daughter, a body. A kind of fatherhood?

“I don’t matter.” He didn’t have the strength to stop the words from dropping from his mouth. He was a Protector. He was made to die, in a way.

Molly didn’t respond to that. Perhaps she knew she wasn’t one who could change his mind on that. Maybe she agreed. Or she was just too tired to argue this late into the night.

“Do you need anything?”

“... another blanket may be nice.”

--o o- o-o

It was his own face.

A stone statue with his curls and his eyes. A perfect replica.

Gar reached out as if to touch it, but his hand went right through the rock.

So he really was dead then.

Around his statue’s neck was his medallion, what he’d only had for such a short amount of time.

Gar had been in this building before. When he had first been in here, he had been so scared of having to go in a retrieve Snow’s medallion. To have that kind of life in his hands. What if he was never able to come back? Would Snow be stuck as a ghost? He’d never thought about the positions being somewhat reversed. Then again, why would a Royal think they’d be a Protector?

The halls had been so cold.

Gar couldn’t feel that unearthly chill anymore.

He couldn’t feel anything. It was almost like being in a dream, moving like he wasn’t really there. Everything around him seemed fake.

He hoped Molly would come and get him soon.

He couldn’t be trapped like this, just to his thoughts.

Thinking about all that he had done wrong in his life. How many people he’d killed and hurt. All of the terrible things he’d done.

How many people he had failed.

[stonestridernerd]

"Mama, are you a queen?", the little calf held a frog in her arms that was so utterly giant it would have been able to swallow a housecat in one piece. Unhappy the small girl pat the monsterfogs slimy head, a handling the frog just receipted with a stoic expression while the girl continued muttering: "Granny had told me that if a princess kisses a frog the frog will turn into a prince. But I have tried it and Mr. Rib-Bit is still a frog. So you are not a queen, Mama?"

The druidess widened her eyes at the sudden question, tilting her head towards her daughter. Seeing the large frog in her hands, Kennocha chuckled as she kneeled to the young taureness’ eye level. “Ah, I hear Granny Yainah has told you the tale of the Frog Prince, yes?”

“Uh huh.”The girl nodded slightly. 

Kennocha pursed her lips, humming in thought before asking. “Can you tell me the story again, deerie?” 

“Okay Mama, there is this pretty princess.” The little calf held the frog closer, gently petting his head as she began the tale. “And she sees Mr. Rib-Bit on the path, hoping along the path. He tells her that he is a beautiful prince, and that if she kisses him, he will turn into a prince! She did not believe him at first, but he promises to take her to his kingdom if she kisses him. So she does- and he turns into a big, beautiful prince and they live happily ever after!”

She pouted her bottom lip out, looking up to her mother to show her large, doe-like eyes. “But Mr. Rib-Bit did not turn back into a prince. So are you not a queen, Mama?” 

“Not of the frogs, no...” Kennocha shook her head, glancing down to avoid the pleading eyes. “But has Auntie Winoa ever told you the tale of the Deer Princess?”

The girl furrowed her brow as she rapidly shook her head. 

“Oh, that is one of my favorites!” The druidess sat down, crossing her legs as she grinned to the child. The girl leaped on the crossed legs, sitting comfortably in the druidess’ lap. She leaned her head back as she listened to her mother’s story. “Back when the Stonestriders were just arriving in this valley, one of our ancestors saw a great stag wandering the forest.”

“Well, the tribe was dealing with a harsh winter. Seeing the mighty stag, the hunter decided to go after its meat to feed the tribe.”

The young calf gasped, earning a loud “Ribbit!” from the frog. He slid out of her hand, hopping away. “Mr. Ribbit!” She was about to run about the escaping critter, when she felt a sturdy hand on her shoulder. The girl sighed, returning her focus back to the older taureness. “But why would he want to kill him, Mama? The stag was just watching over them! He did not do anything mean or anything!”

“I thought the same when I was your age,” The druidess smiled fondly. “but the hunter needed to feed his family. The stag would still wander the mountains afterwards, safe and sound in the Earthmother’s embrace.”

She tilted her head in confusion. “That does not make sense, Mama.”

“It will someday.” Kennocha bowed her head, continuing on with the story. “He told the others about his plan to chase the stag, which the tribe agreed to. However, they could not spare any more hunters to accompany him on his journey, as they still needed to protect the sick and injured on their long journey. So the hunter packed his supplies and spear as he prepared to go out for the hunt, promising to catch up to them with the stag in hand.”

“He left early the next morning, following the track of the stag from the evening before. The hunter spent the day chasing after the stag’s tracks, but because the nights are short and cold, he had to stop as Mu’sha chased An’she away. After setting up a cozy bed for himself, he was about to fall asleep when he heard something.

“At first, he thought it was the wind, but then it sounded again and again.” Pausing as she watched the girl, lean closer to her, Kennocha smiled softly as she whispered the next sentence. “It was the sound of hooves, but too light to be Shu’halo. It had to be...a deer.”

The calf widened her eyes, gaping her mouth as the story progressed. 

“He jumped from his bed, spear in hand as he looked for the hooves’ owner. Yet nothing was to be found in the chilling darkness. He was about to go back to bed, when all of a sudden, the deer jumped out!

“It was a doe, her white fur shining against the stars. It is said that she might have been a child of Apa’ro, but the hunter did not care. He watched the deer anxiously, before speaking up. ‘Good doe, I am looking for a mighty stag in these mountains. Have you seen one like this?’ He asked, describing the stag to the strange doe.

“The doe nodded. ‘Yes, that is my mate. I beg you not to kill him, for he is too young to die yet.’”

The young taureness folded her arms. “I told you, Mama! The hunter is being mean!”

The druidess smiled, shaking her head as she progressed through the tale. “The hunter was saddened to hear this, as he did not to cause any harm. However, his tribe needed the food. ‘Good doe, I know you mean well, but my tribe hungers while I hunt. I am sorry, but my people need your mate’s meat.’”

“‘No,’ The doe cried. ‘I can give your tribe a great gift, but only if you promise not to kill him.’“

“A gift?” The calf bounced her leg. “Was it food?”

The druidess chuckled, unable to keep the answer withheld anymore. “No, but a blessing to do this.” She swung the girl up, throwing her up into the air. As the calf rose higher, Kennocha shifted into the form of a dark doe. She tilted her head upwards as the girl landed on her back, grunting with the impact before lifting herself back up. 

The calf giggled, running her hand across her mother’s back. “You can turn into a deer?!”

Kennocha nodded. “Can I have a kiss, my fawn?”

Blinking in surprise, the small taureness eventually nodded. She leaned in for a kiss on her mother’s snout, giving her a sloppy peck on its top. As her lips landed, Kennocha shifted back into a taureness. 

“Ah, I am a tauren again!” 

The calf giggled harder. “You are a queen, Mama!”

The druidess smiled fondly at her daughter, enveloping her in a hug. “I suppose so, my fawn princess.”

( Thanks anon! Sorry this took longer, but I wanted to expand on this one! )

[lilbreck]

AGoT Chapter 5 - 8

If you want to follow along, I'm tagging my ASoIaF reading as tonya rereads asoiaf. As I said last time, feel free to comment, I'd love to talk about stuff. Point out some things I missed, whatever.

There are a lot of questionable parenting skills in this group of chapters. Robert's a bad king, Jon is angry but still loves his family, and the Starks are fucking northern fools, even Catelyn.

Chapter 4: Eddard

Age 35

Not even gonna lie, Ned's first description of how Robert used to look sounded a bit like he had a crush. No offense, but Ned has bad taste in men. How he looks now… If there's perfume coming off Robert, is it supposed to be Cersei's, does he wear perfume himself, or did he seriously visit some brothels on the way up north? I'd believe any of it. Also, as much as everyone loves Ned… he seriously says he loves Robert because, after fifteen years, the man is still obsessed with his sister?

We get a hint here that the cold (which I commented on in Bran's chapter) is potentially unusual. Though Ned says that late summer snows are common enough, I'm not sure how much to believe that.

You know, the more we see of Robert, the less I like him. I shudder to think what Lyanna would have gone through if she had married him. She may or may not still be alive, but she'd be married to a drunken, abusive (IIRC) ass who sleeps around on her. If Robert had been a better man, I wonder how differently all this would have turned out.

The first Lords of Winterfell had been men hard as the land they ruled. In the centuries before the Dragonlords came over the sea, they had sworn allegiance to no man, styling themselves the Kings in the North.

I just want a story where the ghosts of the first Lords of Winterfell reign down terror on those in the South. Maybe someone who writes ASoIaF/GoT fanfic could write that and link me.

So, I had heard conflicting reports of how the Starks were killed by Aerys. Apparently, Brandon died first (strangled, and just a few days before his wedding!) and I'm assuming his father burned after. We haven't touched on that in this chapter yet.

I'm assuming (and correct me if I'm wrong) that Ned not wanting to trust a child to Tywin has to do with the Targaryen children that died and Ned and Robert's split. It's the only reason I could think of that Ned would think speaking of it would open old wounds.

“They say it grows so cold up here in winter that a man’s laughter freezes in his throat and chokes him to death,” Ned said evenly. “Perhaps that is why the Starks have so little humor.”

The cold seems to give them subtle sass to spare, though. This chapter is full of damn good quotes. I'll leave it off on this one:

For a moment Eddard Stark was filled with a terrible sense of foreboding. This was his place, here in the north. He looked at the stone figures all around them, breathed deep in the chill silence of the crypt. He could feel the eyes of the dead. They were all listening, he knew. And winter was coming.

Chapter 5: Jon

Age 14

Okay, this Jon is a bit different from the serious and solemn young man that we saw in Bran's chapter. Of course, the circumstances are different, so that could be some of it. We do get a lot of description from Jon's POV. I'm going to copy his descriptions here, save Tommen (because he's pretty much a non-entity to Jon) and Tyrion because it says nothing about Jon's perception of the man, just how fascinated he is by his appearance.

< His father helped her up the steps to the dais and led her to her seat, but the queen never so much as looked at him. Even at fourteen, Jon could see through her smile. >

< The king was a great disappointment to Jon. His father had talked of him often: the peerless Robert Baratheon, demon of the Trident, the fiercest warrior of the realm, a giant among princes. Jon saw only a fat man, red-faced under his beard, sweating through his silks. He walked like a man half in his cups. >

< He had the Princess Myrcella on his arm. She was a wisp of a girl, not quite eight, her hair a cascade of golden curls under a jeweled net. Jon noticed the shy looks she gave Robb as they passed between the tables and the timid way she smiled at him. He decided she was insipid. Robb didn’t even have the sense to realize how stupid she was; he was grinning like a fool. >

< Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey’s pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell’s Great Hall. >

< Ser Jaime Lannister was twin to Queen Cersei; tall and golden, with flashing green eyes and a smile that cut like a knife. He wore crimson silk, high black boots, a black satin cloak. On the breast of his tunic, the lion of his House was embroidered in gold thread, roaring its defiance. They called him the Lion of Lannister to his face and whispered “Kingslayer” behind his back.

Jon found it hard to look away from him. This is what a king should look like, he thought to himself as the man passed. >

Looking at that, Jaime is the only one who Jon doesn't dismiss in one way or another. I wonder if it's a coincidence that Jaime is getting a kind of (kind of) redemptive arc. I'm not really sure about Tyrion, I'll have to get back to you when I read further.

Also, Jon may or may not have a crush on Jaime.

So, given that Theon ignores Jon, I'm thinking Jon's dislike is also returned. How long has Theon been there, and when did the dislike start? Was there one instance, or did they just take an instant dislike to each other. Is this answered later on? Guess I'll find out.

His eyes stung. Jon rubbed at them savagely, cursing the smoke. He swallowed another gulp of wine and watched his direwolf devour the chicken.

I have a feeling that isn't from the smoke. Fuck, poor Jon. Beyond that, Ghost is out here intimidating dogs three times his size.

Given how very angry and hurting Jon is concerning the fact that he's a bastard, it does say a lot about him that he remains so loyal to his family later on.

Chapter 6: Catelyn

You know, we get a very different view on how political marriages can go in this world. Robert and Cersei have a hellish marriage where she's very obviously not happy and he doesn't care a bit. Meanwhile, we've got Ned and Catelyn who really seem to have a good marriage with, apparently, a satisfying sex life on both their ends.

“Robert would never harm me or any of mine. We were closer than brothers. He loves me. If I refuse him, he will roar and curse and bluster, and in a week we will laugh about it together. I know the man!”

Okay, first off, it's very obvious that Ned has a (potentially willful) blindness to who his friend really is. I also wonder if he thought he was protecting his wife by not telling her about Jon's real parents? Because the Robert we're introduced to, the one Catelyn is obviously very aware of, would not spare his family because they didn't know if he found out Ned had commited the treason of hiding a Targaryen child. Especially if that child was Lyanna's, and he wouldn't care that Lynnna was Ned's sister.

I think this is going to call for a "fucking northern fool" tag. I have a feeling it will come in handy.

I would just like to point something out:

“And in mine,” she blazed, angry now. Why couldn’t he see? “He offers his own son in marriage to our daughter, what else would you call that? Sansa might someday be queen. Her sons could rule from the Wall to the mountains of Dorne. What is so wrong with that?”

“Gods, Catelyn, Sansa is only eleven,” Ned said. “And Joffrey … Joffrey is …”

She finished for him. “… crown prince, and heir to the Iron Throne. And I was only twelve when my father promised me to your brother Brandon.”

Everyone likes to rag on Sansa because she was excited to marry a prince and refused to see what Joffrey was. However, this conversation hints to me — speaking on assumptions from the perspective of a long marriage — that Ned had concerns about Joffrey (or reservations) that he had probably spoken to his wife about. She ignores all that in favor of how Sansa could be queen.

Not in a power grab, mind you, but in the way all mothers want their children to have the best possible chance in life. She would have filled her daughter with stories (as would have everyone around her). They would have told her what an honor it was and how lucky she was. She's eleven and sheltered, just as all the Stark children are, even the bastard boy, of course she's going to cling to it.

I'd also like to point out that Catelyn is so thrown by how scared she feels and how much she knows shit's about to go wrong that she straight up hops out of be naked to the shock of both her husband and the Maester (who has been trying to get out of that damn room of naked and half naked people). I need to find my small amusements where I can.

Just… I have to question what they thought would happen if they found out and were able to prove that Cersei and her family had killed Jon Arryn? Did they think that Sansa would be fine married off to a prince who would probably resent her father? Did they think they could back out of it? You know what, Catelyn is now roped into my "fucking northern fool" tag.

I mean, they didn't have much of a choice, but she didn't even see what dangers could come with all this. Not for a second do we see her think "Hmmm, a boy might not be happy to marry the daughter of the man who got his mother (probably) executed for the murder of The King's Hand, who was also a good friend of the king." For fuck's sake!

Chapter 7: Arya

Age 9

Okay, Arya's resentment of Sansa rings clearly through the first few paragraphs of this chapter. Also, she straight up mentally blames Sansa for attracting the septa's attention… when the septa didn't look away from the princess until Arya raised her voice. Hell, Sansa even tried to placate the septa by saying that they were talking about how happy they were to have the princess there.

Everything in this chapter speaks of her being both overdramatic and jealous of her sister. Down to thinking to herself that no one except Nyperia loves her. Now, I'm not saying that as a dig at Arya. She's 9. This is how she should be. I do have a problem with people who use her very obvious unreliable narrator POV to say that Sansa was somehow in the wrong here. I'm still waiting on this great scene that proves that Sansa is a bully to Arya.

I really do like Jon and Arya's relationship here.

Chapter 8: Bran

So, wait, when does Bran's direwolf get a name? It doesn't matter, that poor direwolf was trying to warn Bran not to climb. I'm assuming that Bran's in-depth knowledge of how to get in and out of Winterfell is going to come in handy. Like I said, it's been more than a while since I've read this.

You know, I'm sitting here laughing about the lengths they're all going to try and get him to stop climbing and he's all "whatevs" about it. But then I remember what's about to happen and I'm sad again. I don't want to read this.

Yeah, shit's only going to go wrong from here.

[roselinewynters]

g’day, folks! its me, vina, and this time i’ve actually got some neat-o things to say about my character !! so, click beneath the cut for bullet points & fun facts about roseline wynters. i’ll hopefully have a plot page up soon bc im working on it right now, but if u like what u read and would like to rp / plot, pls hit me up !! 

a lil bit of history;

so. let me begin w the easiest of things- meet roseline “rose” wynters, the twenty one year old daughter of elsa i’ve played sporadically since,, the end of march, 2014. so. she’s definitely not new !! 

but she has been given a new lease of life & as such, i’m erasing.. a lot of what i did prev. with her. she’s still been in and out of wda and some things are staying the same, but pivotal parts of old!rose like.. everything w calla fiore and carter forrester, some plots i did, etc, they’re all erased completely.

rose is,, difficult

that’s the only way i can think to describe her

she’s very loud and outspoken and she has always sorta been the thorn in her mama’s side

and here’s a huge change- she wasn’t the only one, anymore !! rose used to be an only child, but now she has a (much) older brother named christian- he’s mayhaps going to make an appearance eventually, and as such i dont’t wanna go into too much detail about him. but.. rose is still crown princess of arendelle, when.. having an older brother should mean he’s crown prince. there is a story there. he, too, has been a problem child. someday u will all understand

anywaY

back to rose

she’s got ice powers like her mama but.. she’s vastly more in control of them. she just doesn’t rly.. use them. ever. well. she does, but in public, it’s rare- they mightn’t scare her, but she’s met other ppl who are scared, so she keeps herself chill.

in spite of this. she has a rly quick temper.. like.. she goes from 0 to 100 in an instant and it’s not good, bc the one time she does begin to lose control is when she’s angry

many a snowstorm has been created by rose wynters losing her goddamn chill

she has a tiger, which is like. one of the most important things u need to know about her. his name is kumal & he’s actually just remaining canon from past rose (bc she adopted him yrs ago when we had a wda petshop thing up and running but the story now is a little different). he’s enchanted- for now- to stay roughly abt.. six, maybe seven months old, appearance wise. so he’s p big but not massive, but still.. he’s a tiger. she walks around w a tiger at her heels. that’s rose.

back to her actual history

she acted out first and then she decided the only way she could get attention was by running away and she’s been doing that ever since

at this point, elsa’s like.. all ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ about it on the outside, but internally screaming always bc her daughter is the absolute worst

she shirks all her responsibilities- like. she literally does not care abt this princess gig- and instead she goes all around the world, meeting new ppl, seeing new places, and she comes back eventually but she always goes again

and its not even abt attention anymore- rose is sort of. missing something, i guess. and she’s sort of searching for that missing something in her own way, but im not quite sure if she’ll ever find it. in fact. im positive she won’t

fun facts;

she’s very smart but.. not in a way which has kept her grades up. she knows the world, she knows different cultures and whatnot, she has all this knowledge she’s picked up on adventures across the lands- but then she comes back here and its all very ordinary to her

she’s an artist, of sorts, who likes to take pictures and sketch different people and places and things she sees, but she’s nothing special- very amateur 

but she IS a collector, of everything and anything. knowledge, material items, etc etc. its all the same to rose.

her room is a mess of clutter, all different things she’s brought back from around the world, rugs piled upon other rugs, scarves and fabrics hanging around the ceiling, books and ornaments piled messily. her pockets are filled with oddities and her arms are covered in fading bracelets and bands and she always without fail has a different patterned headscarf to tie around her hair, and its all because she collects these things and they surround her in every day life. 

she’s as much an oddity in buena vista as the different knick knacks that fill her pockets are- she’s always one step out of sync, never quite fitting in, never quite knowing enough to. she has so much knowledge, but it’s never enough.

her attention is easily taken, so.. thatll be fun to play w. rose picks up a hobby and within a week she’s dropped it for a new one. she’s decided to do something, and as soon as something else comes along, she’s changed her mind and gone off to do that. she’s always restless and ready and willing to do something new, even at the expense of something old.

she always smells like lavender and she has a rly wholesome sorta style like. u will see thru fashion posts i reblog but.. she’s very vintage i love her

a cool new style phone ?? no thank u rose wynters has an old nokia brick phone that is indestructible and will get her thru life. no facebook messenger for her !!

books are her thing. she loves to read- she loves to learn things, as evidenced by how she rly immerses herself in all the new places she visits, and before she used to travel books were her only escape. she’s an avid reader to this day

but she’s also into spooky stuff !! she watches buzzfeed unsolved and all those sorta things, she loves the ~*~supernatural~*~ and ghosts and ghoulies but tbh i think she mostly wants to debunk it all

she takes great pleasure but she’s also like ‘i want to prove this wrong’

anyway i cant think of anything else and ik i once again got long winded but.. rose is an important af character to me Okay she’s been rocking around forever

[nighttimekpop]

Royal Love (Prince! Jimin x Maid!Reader) Chapter 3

BTS Prince/Royal AU

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Your relationship with Jimin is at risk when the King and Queen make a concerning announcement.

"What do you mean a ball to find me a princess? I don't need a princess, I have Y/N!" "But your brothers Taehyung and Jungkook said they don't see any improvement in your demeanor around the palace and frankly we have to agree with them. You can keep the maid but you'll have to find someone of royal descent on the night of the ball. It will be a masquerade. That way you'll be able to choose a girl and it will be a surprise as to whom she is until we reveal her at the end of the night. And just for fun, your brothers can choose brides if they want as well. That way we won't have to hassle with finding them brides either." The king and queen were too busy to really understand Jimins feelings about anything, and this situation was no different. Their decisions were final and Jimin didn't have any way to escape. He felt suffocated by his responsibility. It was understandable that he would eventually need a partner as an upcoming heir to the throne when the time came. But it made no sense to force him this early, let alone on such short notice. Most of this was actually Taehyung and Jungkooks fault, however Jimin had to accept the fact that it was his distant nature towards the rest of the family that got him in this whole mess in the first place. The worst part was that he now had to break the news to you.

"Y/N, there's this masquerade ball that my parents have set up-" "Ooh a masquerade ball? That sounds like so much fun! I hope you have a great time!" "Y/N... it's a ball to find me a fiancée." You felt your stomach drop the way the cups of tea you were holding did as they dropped to the floor. The sound of porcelain shattering echoed across the room. You looked down and didn't move. Jimin could feel your sadness at his words, he felt the same. You knew this was a situation you would have to face someday, you just hoped it wouldn't come so soon. "Well I hope you find someone, I'm sure she'll be wonderful..." you said as you turned away so Jimin wouldn't see the tears building up in your eyes. "Y/N I'm so sorry, I'll try to fix this I promise!" Jimin tried to comfort you with the optimism he always managed to pull out of nowhere whenever things were bad. You loved that about him. "Jimin we both knew this day was going to come." you said with a sigh. "Y/N I made a promise to you and I'm not about to break it. How about you come to the ball? No one will recognize you anyway, they think you're working all the time so you don't have to worry", he suggested. "Are you sure? Are you really that sure we could get away with it? Where will I even get a dress worthy of going to a ball full of princesses? And you'll have to pick a fiancée at the end of the night too!" "I'll buy you one. The shoes, the jewelry, everything. As for my fiancée, we'll worry about that when we get there." You trusted Jimin enough to know he really cared about you to do this much. You figured you might as well spend your last night with him at a ball than a sad goodbye out the back door of the dreary looking maid quarters.

It was the night of the ball. You had to mentally prepare yourself since this might be the last time you would ever be able to be happy with Jimin. Unfortunately he couldn't walk you to the ballroom because he had to participate in the opening ceremony of the ball. You were alone until you were joined by the crowds of girls coming out of their fancy rides, covered in their most expensive and astounding attire from head to toe. It wasn't until you walked down the red carpeted stairs that you became aware of how intricate and royal looking the dress Jimin picked out for you was. People gasped in awe as they watched you, draped in a silk silver dress that trailed behind you as you walked. Jimin bought it knowing it would match his navy blue uniform with silver lining and details on the sides. It also matched his silver hair. Trumpets sounded to announce the entrance of the king and queen followed by the seven princes. But you didn't expected to see all seven of them dressed exactly alike. They all had similar hats so you couldn't see their hair, masks to cover their faces and their uniforms had only subtle differences between each other. It was later announced by the king and queen that this was so no one held any bias towards any of the princes and chose them based on personality, which was a disaster for you considering you had a bias, and it was Jimin. It would be hard for him to find you now as well, since the masks covered most of everyone's faces and you weren't that tall compared to everyone else either. This was going to be a nightmare.

Once the opening ceremony was over, you went looking for Jimin. It was impossible. You either got trampled on by hyper princesses or couldn't reach any of the princes fast enough before someone else danced with them. Jimin wanted to look for you as well but he was busy trying to politely shake off the girls who tried to dance with him. As the first song began to play, princesses began fighting over who could dance with a prince while you watched quietly. You soon noticed that one of the princes was walking straight towards you. You looked up to see two eyes peering through the dark blue mask, but you couldn't tell who they belonged to. "May I have the pleasure of dancing with a gorgeous lady such as yourself? You look stunning this evening my dear", said the deep voice behind the mask. Something about it didn't feel right and you didn't know why but a chill ran down your spine as he began to dance with you. Maybe it was the grip he used or the way his voice had drips of bad intention pouring through, but you could feel that this prince was definitely one that you didn't want to spend any longer with. As you two swayed back and forth, the music didn't seem to be going by fast enough. Your partners' hands held you tight, almost as though he knew you wanted to run away. Every alarm went off in your head the moment you felt him breathing in the scent of your perfume followed by a long but terrifying exhale of satisfaction at how delicious you smelled. "Mmm...we've met before haven't we?" He whispered as he proceeded to nibble your ear which was already red and hot from anxiety and embarrassment. "Miss Y/N do you like the little parting gift Jungkookie and I put together for you and Jimin? We thought that just letting the secret out would be too boring, so mummy and daddy agreed to our suggestion to throw him a ball. Don't worry, no need to thank us." he said with a smirk. His arm slowly wrapped around your waist to try and hold you tighter. The way he was trying to restrain himself from touching you anymore than he already was, was a dead giveaway. It was Prince Taehyung. You refrained from being too obvious about your escape from his grasp and tore yourself away just as he twirled you around.

Finding refuge at the refreshment table, you stayed a while to recollect yourself. A slightly shorter prince approached you, but it wasn't Jimin, his voice was still too deep. However he didn't give you the same eerie feeling Prince Taehyung had. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, noticing your short breaths and wide eyes. "You look like you're about to pass out. Maybe you should sit down or something." He was definitely not Jungkook either. You decided he was safe enough to be with for now and accepted his help. There weren't any chairs indoors so the prince suggested you both go out to the balcony where there were plenty of empty seats. "Are you enjoying yourself tonight otherwise?" "I mean, the ball looks wonderful and so do all the guests including yourself and your brothers, but something seems too forced about it all." "You think so? Yeah me too. I mean I don't mind finding a princess right now, but I'm not obligated to, Jimin is. The poor kid is still younger than us four older princes, but he's being forced to decide so soon. How do you decide something like that at his age? I never would have been able to. It's nice to know someone understands him like you. Most people don't." You could feel the loneliness and frustration in his voice. This is something that bothered him and Jimin a lot. No wonder the princes never seemed happy. Their status came with the cost of having to obey their parents every rule in order to prepare for eventual inheritance of the throne. You were glad you still had enough freedom to be more independent than the princes would ever get to have until they became kings. You and the anonymous prince remained on the balcony for the majority of the night. You were so lost in conversation that you didn't notice how physically close the prince had gotten to you, his face specifically. He seemed more friendly than flirty, not dangerous. His proximity to you just made him seem extremely interested in whatever you were talking about. You kept dismissing all of the signs because you still saw him as a friend, but he had other things in mind. "You know, I've never met a girl like you. You're so much more interesting and sound so much smarter than all those other girls at this party. All they care about is status and money and appearances. But you care about people. I love that..." Your heart began to beat faster and faster before he quickly leaned in and gave you a gentle kiss on the lips. Your cheeks grew hot as you felt his warm lips pressing against yours.

Suddenly, the balcony doors swung open. It was a de-masked and disheveled Jimin. "Y/N! I can't believe I've finally found y-" The way his smile suddenly dropped stung your chest. He ripped his brothers mask off. You had been kissing Prince Yoongi. "Yoongi what do you think you're doing kissing her?" "Jimin what the hell is your problem she's just one of the guests!" "No she's not you idiot! She's Y/N! She's my maid!" Yoongi realized what he had just done and was completely in shock. He hadn't recognized you with your mask on either. "Jimin look, I'm sorry, we were just talking and she looked worn out so I suggested we go outside to and we ended up here. I thought she was a princess and I found her sweet, so I kissed her...". But the prince knew that it was too late to reverse what Jimin had just seen. Jimin then turned back to you, his eyes filled with a sickly red hue of rage and disappointment. "And you! You willingly went outside not knowing which of my idiot brothers you were with and allowed him to have a make out session with you at moonlight?!" Your heart felt like it was being stepped on. The one person who trusted you so much that he would take a bullet for you, thought you had just cheated on him. He grew more and more furious with each word. "Jimin it's not like that! I-" "You what?" he cut you off. "You thought that I had forgotten about you? That because this was our last night it wouldn't matter if you tried flirting with a more eligible prince? Do you trust me so little that you think I threw our relationship away because of some stupid rule my parents came up with!?" Tears began streaming down his face. "I was coming back for you! I had it all planned out! I was going to choose you as my fiancée tonight to show my parents that I want you and no one else! But then I walk out to find that you've moved on from me so quickly?!" Every word that came out of his mouth made you want to curl up into a ball and disappear. This was not how the night was supposed to go.

The clock tower finally struck midnight. It was time for Jimin to announce whom he had chosen to marry. A spotlight shone onto the balcony. Before they could announce anything, he took one last long sorrowful look at your face and marched back to the castle. There were no announcements of upcoming marriages that night. The guests left one by one and the castle lights were shut off. You returned to the maids quarters. This would be the first night in months that you weren't sharing a bed with Jimin. Your sheets felt cold as you grasped them to try and feel someone who wasn't there. Neither you nor Jimin slept. All he could think about was whether the ball had ruined your feelings for him forever. All you could think about was the pained look on his face and his red eyes staring through his messy, silver hair as he walked away from you by the light of the moon. You wondered if he was walking away from your relationship too.