#Nobility AU
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To say this is a surprise is an understatement.
Slade made the offer in seriousness, though perhaps not fully. It’s the first offer he’s made since Adeline’s passing and while it’s been four years, long enough for the grieving period to be over, he hasn’t given full thought to remarrying. He has his hands full, with Grant’s sullenness and Joey’s muteness and then the addition of Rose, and the idea of finding a new mate was a distant one.
Richard Grayson is handsome, to be sure, and charming, a jewel of the Wayne pack with no shortage of admirers. His introduction to society was unfortunately followed by his father’s disappearance and the flurry of a mourning period it prompted, cutting off courtships for a few years. Lord Wayne was thankfully found a few months ago, but it appears he’s not quite all the way well, because Richard and his siblings arrived in London on their own this season.
They’ve been fawned over at every turn, a sickening display that Slade’s mostly avoided, but he ran into Richard quite by chance when Rose went missing on an outing at the park. He found her with Wayne’s little brat of an heir, both kids shrieking gleefully under Richard’s fond supervision. Once the children made friends, there was, of course, no escaping the interactions, and Slade watched with increasing desire as Richard calmly and evenly handled two sets of hellions with admirable ease.
The omega is young but mature, gracious and kind but also stubborn. Protective of his packmates, of children no matter who they are. Pretty. Rich. Enough hints of fire to pique Slade’s interest.
When Joey all but clambered into Slade’s lap to solemnly demand that Dick join their pack, his interest finally solidified into an offer. Even Grant only made a huff at the proposition, a ringing endorsement from the sullen teen, and Rose was willing to do anything to ensure she keeps her playmate.
So Slade sent his offer, serious but expecting nothing of it. For all the reasons Slade wants him, Grayson has a hundred admirers, younger, richer, belonging to more powerful families. Slade is a widower with three children and Richard is the eldest omega of the Wayne pack, he didn’t imagine it would be taken seriously.
“Forgive me, but I have to be blunt,” Slade said, crossing his arms on his desk and leaning forward. “Why?”
Richard is sitting in the seat opposite, straight-backed, shoulders relaxed, hands resting in his lap. He radiates tension despite it.
“You were the one who made the offer, my lord,” Richard says evenly. “Are you rescinding it?”
“I’m asking you why you’re accepting it,” Slade says flatly. He has no patience for games. “I’m nearly twice your age, with three children. I cannot possibly be your best offer.”
“If you’re so certain I wouldn’t accept, why did you offer at all?”
Yet another question answered with a question. If he wasn’t already suspicious, the deflections would cement it.
Slade narrows his eye. “Don’t play naïve, boy, it doesn’t suit you.” Something flickers in Richard’s eyes, there and gone. “If I’m your choice, then there’s something you’re hiding.” He drops his voice to a growl, “And I don’t like secrets near my family. Not after what the last one did.”
Richard drops his gaze and swallows, shoulders hunching, giving into the anxiety hovering around him like a cloud. Slade gives him a minute. If he still won’t speak, Slade will have him thrown out. The children will be unhappy, but better unhappy than maimed.
“I—I was—I am,” Richard swallows, tries again, swallows, tries again. “It’s just—I wasn’t—I—”
“Just spit it out,” Slade snaps.
Richard doesn’t flinch, but he does draw in a deep breath, and when he exhales, he looks up to meet Slade’s gaze. “I know that your lordship already has three children. I was hoping that someone of your position, with an assured line of succession, would be more amenable to taking a mate with prior engagement in behaviors that might threaten the parentage of any heirs. If I was wrong, I hope we can resolve this amicably and restore the goodwill between our packs. It was never my intention to bring any harm to your pack.”
Slade takes a moment to sort through all of it. Richard is ashen, but still keeping Slade’s gaze, sitting prim and proper as though he hasn’t just admitted to being ruined.
“You’re not chaste,” Slade says finally, leaning back.
“No,” Richard says. His hands are clenched in his lap.
“Who?” Slade asks.
It’s not precisely idle curiosity, not with the darker parts of him wanting to shred to pieces anyone who dared to taste the omega. An earlier courtship, maybe, one cut off by Lord Wayne’s disappearance and never resumed? Slade knows that betrothed omegas and alphas will fool around, hiding away from their chaperones, not thinking about the consequences should the agreement be broken off.
“Does it matter?” Richard’s jaw is tight.
Slade raises an eyebrow. “If you want to reach an agreement, yes.”
Richard takes a controlled breath and looks away. “Lord Desmond,” he says sharply. That isn’t what Slade was expecting. “It happened years ago. It will never happen again, I swear it. There was no one else.”
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A lot of Omegas didn’t agree with arranged marriages and mating any more, they should have their choice in Alpha. And sure, a lot of Alphas and Betas liked that idea too.
But here we are, meeting for the first time at the masquerade ball, you have no idea I’m your betrothed, you just know that I’ve been gentle with all my touches to your waist and your shoulders, and my scent has you so desperate to have a bite of me. You’ll think of this as your last chance of freedom before we’re married in two days. You don’t know that I’m going to be the one mounting you and claiming you as my pretty little mate soon enough. You’d fought with your parents about this, not wanting to be auctioned off to the highest paying duke.
It didn’t matter how much I had to pay, I wanted you. I’d spied you in one of the gardens sunbathing last summer, the light dancing through your parasol as you lightly dozed, wearing little more than a long shirt to protect your modesty. I was hooked.
I’ve been watching you at every ball, every high society dinner. Soon, you’ll have a taste of me.
I’ll let you steal a kiss, so your first kiss is of your choosing, you don’t need to know I’ll be your first and last kiss. Maybe tonight I’ll slip my fingers inside your trousers and finger that pretty Omega pussy while you grip my arms and whimper in my ear, the anonymity of it all just serving to make you wetter. When you cum on my fingers, I’ll fish my cock out and knot my fist with your slick. It’ll be the first time you see a knot, maybe you’ll be bold and have a lick and suck, maybe beg me to knot your mouth. And in two days I’ll knot your cunt and make you scream my name.
But for now, we’ll just dance, and I’ll continue my seduction of my pretty little mate.
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Doctor Who Femslash February, Day 28
Prompt- Event/Party
@doctorwho-femslashfeb
It was supposed to be a simple in-and-out. It was not a simple in-and-out. When was it ever? And now, Rose did not regret agreeing to do this mission with the Doctor (a somewhat pretentious name considering the woman wasn't even technically one), but really. Invading another high society event to gather information was getting quite boring.
It was easier for her of course, after all. She had been taking in by the Silence when she was a child, they were a group of operatives that moved in the dark. Who were always silent. Rose has some memories of her mother from when she was a child, but not many. She'd been around eight when she'd been taken in, her mother having died a few months prior and she had been living with... someone, she can't quite recall who, a boy and his grandmother but not much more then that.
And the Silence had ever since carefully worked to construct her identity. Alter enough records, make it look like she'd been an illegitimate child of some nobility who was brought in after her mother's death. It had caused some shade on her her and the family but it was all washed away quick enough.
Besides, the only reason she'd been placed with this family was because of the fact that the man who they claimed was her father was a member of the Silence and had snatched up the chance when it was presented. After all, who wouldn't want a daughter they could flaunt off? No matter the fact that other members of the nobility would scoff and mutter about her impure origins.
Those born out of wedlock were never treated very kindly. But Rose could bear it, bear not being able to have her proper last name (Tyler, not Pond). Although she supposed that was another good thing, she had a sister now. Amelia- though she always pitched a fit when Rose referred to her as so, insisting to be called Amy and that it was how they should refer to each other.
Amy short for Amelia and Rose short for Rosalyn. Never mind the fact that Rose was her name and not Rosalyn. (They'd said that 'Rosalyn' sounded far more proper for someone of her standing.)
But anyway, mission. She and the Doctor were to attend the event, gather information, and then leave with the excuse of Rose not feeling well. It would make sense, it should've worked even! With Rose having recently been married to a long-time friend of hers, Viscount Jack Harkness. Or rather, he would be Viscount.
If not for the fact that most everyone knew of his tryst's, especially with their accountant Ianto. And so, when they'd tried to leave their host had insisted that Lady Rosalyn stay here for the night, they couldn't dare send a Viscount's wife out, especially not this late and with this weather!
So the two were sat in a room (the Zero room, which coincidentally smiled like roses.) unable to leave. Rose sat on the bed as the Doctor leaned back and ran a hand through her short hair, although she never seemed to mind the looks that she got for keeping it so short.
Reluctant to sit in silence any longer Rose posed a simple question, "What is your name, Doctor?"
The woman in question startled before quickly raising her shields back up, "... Jane. My lady."
With an air of practiced nonchalance Rose asked another question, "And would you happen to have a last name, Lady Jane?"
Rose knew she did, but she was willing to see if the Doctor would be willing to give up the information. She shouldn't, not really. Especially being a higher up in the organization. Both of them knew this. Both were well aware of the parts they were supposed to play, a never-ending act so long as they are with the Silence.
But here, in a room hidden at the back of the mansion on the fourth floor. There were no others except for them, they were allowed to let down their personas. So long as neither of them spoke of this occasion they would be fine.
Jane moved closer, standing up from the chair to sit on the edge of the bed next to Rose, purposefully avoiding her gaze. "Sigma. Jane Sigma."
Quickly running through the names of nobles in her head she frowned. "That's not a noble name."
Jane clenched her hands before slowly unclenching them as she spoke, "Not anymore. My house was from the kingdom Gallifrey, if you'll remember from your history lessons it fell two decades ago."
And suddenly Rose is hit with a reminder of just how old the Doctor is. Nearly two decades her senior. A spinster by most definitions, in her mid-forties and unmarried with no children. Yet Rose found herself leaning forwards, whispering, "Tell me more."
Curiosity has always been apart of her, but this is something she needs to know about. Her mother had grown up between the border of Gallifrey and England. Rose barely remembered the stories that she'd been told, and here was someone who had been at least Rose's current age- if a bit younger- when Gallifrey was still around.
So, as the night continued on. The last embers of light vanishing and the storm turning heavier the two sat in the guest room. Rose leaning closer and closer till she was practically on top of the Doctor, desperate to know more about the part of her heritage that she had never been allowed to explored. Sure, the books told of parts of it, but she had never met someone who was from Gallifrey and remembered it! Most others she'd met had fled when they were children.
So being able to learn more about it had Rose absolutely enamored. It certainly helped that Jane was the one doing the talking, Rose knew that if someone else were talking to her about it that she would only be half paying attention. But this was Jane, someone who she had first met several years back, shortly after her Debutante ball had begun. Jane had approached her, and muttered under her breathe a phrase that Rose was familiar with, 'Silence will fall'.
But here like this, with just the two of them Rose could feel herself beginning to falter. It was late, and she was so very tired. And here in Jane's arms she felt quite safe, so she held on even as she drifted further into the realm of sleep.
Clinging to the body heat of someone very dear to her, words slipping out of Rose's mouth before she could think them through, "I love you..."
The fingers that had been running through her hair stop short for a moment before continuing, "You don't mean that, your just tired Rose."
#dwff24#femslash february#ninth doctor#rose tyler#doctor who#dr who#doctorrose#ninerose#human au#nobility au#mentioned jack harkness#mentioned amy pond#mentioned amelia pond#mentioned the silence#mentioned ianto jones#female ninth doctor
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The Diruses 🕊️🦎
(from my Nobility AU)
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Have you ever considered doing a Nobility AU for your Neo?
I never considered it, but if I had to brainstorm something as in, just RIGHT NOW...I can see my Neo being in that kind of Nobility AU in which she would actually try to dress up as a guy to go against her parents's or society's wishes to be more 'free'
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Prompt #613
The hallway was quiet, save for Person A's footsteps, but those alone echoed off the marble and gold loudly enough that they'd been stuck in a wincing state ever since they stepped out of their room. The windows were covered with thick curtains, but Person A could feel in their soul that snow was gathering on the grounds of the castle, sure as they knew their own name, or that they needed to head to the library for answers.
You see, the past few days had been quite unusual for Person A. Whispers danced at the edges of their hearing, never something others could hear, but always offering knowledge Person A needed at that exact moment. At first, they thought it a demon – then, when the whispers proved helpful, a blessing. But a blessing couldn't explain everything, least of all the way the whispers disagreed with each other at times, and so Person A was doing research.
In the dead of night.
Because they didn't want others to catch any hint about what Person A was researching, lest they also assume the whispers to be a demon's work.
'If anyone asks,' Person A thought, passing by a painting of some rich ladies their tutors had yet to cover, 'I was simply impatient to understand my ice magic and become a mage like my brother.'
Yes, that sounded like a reasonable excuse. They just hoped they didn't end up needing to use it.
#pluralgang#plural system#pluralprompt#plurality#prompt#prompt blog#storm#snow#castle#nobility au#questioning#magic#nighttime
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BakuDeku Royalty AU
AO3 Fanfic Recommendations
Disclaimers!
None of the stories linked below are mine.
Some contain mature content. Read AO3 tags.
Amazing artwork done by @keyade
Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!
An Oasis for You and Me by SecretKiwi
Summary: A prince and his retainer form a bond and grow closer than expected.
{One Shot}
Rated - Explicit
For the Winter (I'll Be Yours) by bkdkwritingsdump
Summary: Prince Izuku Midoriya must be moved to the winter palace early when a warring nation threatens his life, but his carriage is attacked on the way there, and he finds himself stranded in the wilderness.
Frontiersman Katsuki Bakugou stumbles upon an unconscious man and nurses him back to health, hoping to get him in traveling condition before the snow sets in, cutting off his corner of the mountain from all civilization.
The snow sets in early, Izuku loses his voice to illness, and now he’s stuck on the mountainside for four months with a man who has no idea he’s the Prince of his country.
Complete | 18 Chapters
Rated - Teen & Up
into forests & flames by pinchingzuku
Summary: It was the start of a beautiful day without any blemishes in the sky, a perfect glow to begin the longest day of the year, a perfect day for this year’s celebration between the Earth and Fire kingdoms. The sight, no matter how prepared he was each year, instilled something warm and pleasant in Katsuki’s chest, the knowledge of two complete opposites coming together to become one.
— — —
or Fire prince Katsuki and Earth prince Izuku spend an evening at their yearly festival, prince duties forgotten in favor of spending time in each other's company. But Katsuki soon realizes that this isn't one of their normal celebrations.
{One Shot}
Rated - Teen & Up
A Happily Ever After by Violet_Fandom
Summary: “W-what?” Izuku stuttered out. Did his groom not like him? What an awful start to a marriage, his mother would be ashamed. Oh god, it was his body, wasn’t it? He knew he should have-
“Stop muttering.” The alpha growled. Izuku quickly slammed his hands over his mouth, apologizing. Katsuki sighed. “You look fine, idiot. You’re just,” The blonde looked at the omega’s much smaller frame and the height difference between them. “You’re very small.”
OmegaVerse | Mature Content
{One Shot}
Series: Ancient Egypt AU by TheHellAccount
2 Works in Series
Pharaoh Bakugo x Slave Midoriya
Rated - Explicit
Ignite Me by Kreativekilljoy
Summary: The flames steadied and warmed them both.
Prince Bakugo x Servant Midoriya
{One Shot}
Rated - Mature
Series: I accidentally confessed by Sherlock_Teddy
Summary: Where Prince Izuku accidentally confesses to Dragon King Bakugou…
2 Works
Rated - SFW
King of my heart by Alone77
Summary: Katsuki was the Dragon King, King of Yuei and yet his mother wouldn’t stop harassing him to get married.
What Queen Mother Mitsuki didn’t know is that Katsuki’s heart was already taken by an herbalist 10 years ago.
Complete | 5 Chapters
King Bakugo x Herbalist Midoriya
Rated - Teen & Up
The Oldest Tale of Time by stardust_rust
Summary: “Bakugou!” Mina says again, completely unperturbed by his indifference, “You’ll NEVER guess what’s happening!”
Katsuki just grunts and focuses on his form, ignoring the heat of the sun bearing down on him. He knows she’s too impatient to play this game with him, and sure enough -
“The CROWN PRINCE is getting married!” she squeals, and brandishes an ornate piece of parchment at him. She’s too busy having a fit to notice Katsuki stumbling mid-lunge, his sword tip almost eating dirt.
Deku. Deku’s getting married.
{One Shot}
Rated - General Audiences
The Crown by secrets_of_L
Summary: Crown Prince Izuku and barista Katsuki meet one morning. Izuku buying Katsuki a coffee for months before asking him on a date. A date that was great, but had some interesting future results. In other words, Katsuki now has to meet Izuku's family.
One Shot | Modern Royalty AU
Rated - Teen & Up
Wildfire by Tenkku
Summary: With his family in dire straits, omega nobleman Izuku is sent to marry the strongest alpha warlord, Katsuki Bakugo. But Bakugo wants nothing to do with him, and the marriage is for political and military purposes only. Izuku doesn't see himself as a weak omega and wants to fight on the battlefield side-by-side with Bakugo. Izuku will find friendly comfort in Shouto Todoroki, the prince of the Western Territory, and Bakugo's prisoner of war. Todoroki will see the qualities in Izuku that Bakugo refuses to see in a Dom-Omega mate, but Bakugo doesn't like to share, especially when Izuku belongs to him. Izuku will do whatever he can to ensure that he stands beside his alpha mate on the battlefield and help to bring change to the hierarchy world of alphas. Izuku will have to choose between happiness with one alpha or duty with another; he can't have both.
Complete | 19 CH | OmegaVerse
Rated - Explicit
Marry Me With A Song of Fire by illogicalAndiwrites (idontevenlogic)
Summary: It's finally time for the sole heir and crowned prince of the barbarian empire to choose a bride or groom. if it were anyone else, Izuku would gladly attend and cheer for the future happy couple to lead their people . . . but this time it's Katsuki, his Kacchan, who will be choosing someone to love. Someone he is very certain isn't him. However, after being threatened by his childhood friend to attend, the oblivious boy in love attends while his heart breaks at the thought of Katsuki loving anyone other than him.
Meanwhile, Katsuki is excited to finally have his favorite scholar's hand in marriage, if only Deku would stop being so stubborn and show up already.
{One Shot}
Rated - SFW
#bakudeku#royalty#AO3 bakudeku#fic rec#royalty au#bkdk#Prince Bakugo#pharaoh bakugo#slave deku#lord bakugo#lord midoriya#royals#omega midoriya x alpha bakugo#archive of our own recommendations#archive of our own bkdk#medieval au#nobility au#archive of our own#bakudeku recommendations#bakugou katsuki x midoriya izuku#Prince deku x servant bakugo#Prince Izuku Midoriya#fanfic recommendation#ao3 bakudeku recs#ao3 bkdk#bakugou x midoriya#omega prince midoriya izuku#modern royalty au#bakudeku fic rec#bakudeku fic recs
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Noble Conceptions
Sasuke rocked his thin hips solidly, breaching his husband’s yielding entrance. Menma grunted at the sensation of fullness Sasuke gave him. His left leg rested comfortably on Sasuke’s left shoulder where his shoulder length black hair tickled him as their naked bodies moved as one.
He was married to Sasuke nearly a decade ago. The foundation of their marriage was an arranged and rocky one. His big brother, Naruto, the king of the Uzumaki kingdom, used him as a bargaining chip to end a war with the Uchiha Kingdom's Sasuke.
His mother, Musubi Uchiha, would have been excited for him though. His marriage, as a child born from both Uzumaki and Uchiha lineage, was enough to rekindle the bond between the Uchiha and Uzumaki kingdoms. In time, Sasuke learned just how important these roots were to Menma and in turn, Menma grew to love Sasuke.
Years later, when Sasuke asked about having a child, Menma couldn’t bring himself to say no. The process of becoming a carrier would not be easy, but Menma persisted for the sake of his husband. A private doctor who went by the name Orochimaru was contacted on behalf of the two Uchiha kings and Orochimaru offered Menma a bottle of pills meant to change his body so that he could carry a child.
Thus began a very long year. Menma struggled with his transition. Though his changes were all internal his body fought hard to reject them. He had random hot flashes and he suffered wild mood swings. His belly never felt quite right and ramen sometimes appalled him. At one point he bled so much that he thought he lost all of his progress. It was the worst.
When he finally got the go ahead to try for a baby, it was euphoric. Sasuke always felt good inside of him, but this time was different. There was more than lusty gratification to his thrusts. Sasuke wanted a child as bad as he did. He moved with love and intention.
Menma could feel him quaking though. Sasuke was reaching his limit. He came down hard inside of Menma; it was as hot as his fire-style and Menma loved it. The feeling of it caused Menma to join him, making a mess of Sasuke’s chest,neck, and even his chin.
Sasuke remained inside of Menma for a minute, panting. Menma gently scratched at Sasuke’s strong back with his black manicured fingernails and once they both were ready, Sasuke pulled out. He laid to Menma’s right and gently ran his hand over his pliant member before resting it on his lower abdomen. It was done.
In the comfort of Sasuke’s warm embrace, Menma knew everything was going to turn out alright.
Happy BIRTHday Menma! <3
It was a success! Look at the happy family!
Line art assistance by @flawlessstriker
@narutokinktober
@bitchbot3000
#october 2023#monthly event#multiship event#day 10#aftercare#Nobility AU#nobility#road to ninja#naruto shippuden#naruto#boruto naruto next generations#menma uzumaki#Menma Uchiha#sasuke uchiha#charasuke#orochimaru#naruto uzumaki#sarada uchiha#my ocs#ocs#oc#original character#creative writing#writing#naruto art#naruto fanart#sasuke fanart#sarada fanart#happy birthday
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I've never once asked you to be 'noble' or 'righteous' -- you just have to be you, no matter who that person turns out to be.
The Never Book
#admin m#auideas relaunch#the never book#writing quote#quote#writing prompt#writing inspiration#writing inspo#writing idea#writing concept#story idea#prompt#idea#noble au#nobility au#righteous au#religion au#royal au#royalty au#hero au#antihero au#vigilante au#knight au
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Nobility AU - Trial of the Cliffs
[Inspired by @monsoon-of-art's Pokérus AU and @jade-nargacuga's Pokérus:Ghosts]
To say the Sneasals of Coronet Highlands were in a tizzy would be a massive understatement.
A freak rockslide had claimed both Warden and Lord Sneasler, well before an Heir had been named. The pack elders were frantic, going to and fro, trying to keep everyone busy. The Pearl Clan was busy deciding who the new Warden might be, and until they did no Heir could be selected to undertake the Trial of the Cliffs.
One young Sneaslet, however, wouldn’t stand for this. The Clan was taking too long, and a Noble was needed now.
So on a dark, stormy night, when everyone else was in their caves, hard asleep, the youngling snuck out of the cave, heading for the base of Mt. Coronet.
—-
The first order of business was to retrieve the amulet from its hiding place. The humans thought they were so clever, hiding it near the mountain. If the elders weren’t sure that she’d be in bed with her siblings, then it may have worked.
But instead, the youngling reached into the bush, withdrawing a small pouch. Rain pattered down as she looked it over, taking a sniff. Good, it was the right one - that decoy scent was far too obvious. “Sne.” Gently tearing it open with a claw revealed the Trial amulet - one of her father’s claws, securely attached to a simple leather cord.
Unfortunately, the said cord wasn’t tied off. She couldn’t wear it on her neck the way she was supposed to. “Sel…” This might be an issue, but alright. Just wrap the cord around one claw and tie it off in a pseudo-knot with her teeth. As long as she didn’t drop it, then the Trial should still be valid.
The young Sneasal was ready. Approaching the sheer face of Mt. Coronet and looking up, a moment was needed to steel her nerves.
…She needed to do this. There needed to be a Noble Sneasler. They hadn’t had one for months now.
A claw jammed into rock as the youth hauled herself up. A loud peal of thunder raced throughout Hisui, announcing that the Trial of the Cliffs had begun once more.
—-
Whoo… she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. All the young Sneaslets had tried climbing to the Coronet summit several times, wanting to be ready if they were chosen as Heir. Not one of her litter had made it more than halfway, having simply run out of energy.
So she’d take what rests she could. Stopping on one cliff and sitting for a minute, the youngling huffed and puffed. Lifting her arm, her father’s claw dangled down against her skin. Good, it was still there - a fact reinforced as a bolt of lightning briefly illuminated the scene, revealing the claw for a brief second.
A few more breaths, stretching some tired muscles, and then it was time to begin the Ascent once more.
She couldn’t see the amulet between the rain and the darkness, so she had to rely on touch to make sure it hadn’t come off. Every now and then, she’d have to check: give the cord a quick tug, shake her arm a bit to let the claw bounce against her fur. It was precious time and energy that the climb demanded, but without the amulet, it wouldn’t be worth it.
She couldn’t afford to lose it.
—-
As the Sneasal continued her ascent, the rock face grew sheerer. More treacherous.
There were fewer places to sit and get a good rest. A simple corner in the rock became a welcome sight, as she could lean against it. Take some weight off.
She’d shake out an arm or leg, then realize she had to make sure her father's claw hadn’t fallen. Her right arm was getting rather tired. At the last cliff, she’d switched the amulet from one arm to the other, as she had every couple of cliffs before. But there had been no useful overhangs for a while - the best she’d had was a small section jutting out where she could hook in with her toes.
And she couldn’t stop for long. The youngling was running on adrenaline now, the vast supply of food she’d eaten the day before exhausted as she got a bit past halfway. At least she was closer to…probably three-quarters of the way? A new personal record.
But it wouldn't make a difference if she didn’t make it there in time. Sunrise signaled the end of the Trial, whether she’d made it to the summit or not. And if she didn’t make it tonight, she’d probably not get another chance. The elders would keep a closer eye on her, and the Clan would refuse to select her.
…and, to be honest? She wanted to be the Lady of the Cliffs. It would be such an honor and privilege, and knowing the Elders this might have been her best shot anyways.
A huff as she yanked one claw from a crack. She was getting close…so close.
—-
“Ne-SEL!” Ugh, her body felt like it was on fire! Each and every motion was agony, the rain and thunder doing little to distract from it. The cord felt like a vise around her wrist, making her right wrist cramp.
But she could see the summit, nary a few feet away. The path to the humans’ Temple was passed, and she’d continued on the vertical towards the peak. No need to take the walking path, it wouldn't prove anything.
Besides, worked stone was just a few steps away. She just had to not fall off…and get her claw out of this crack it’d gotten stuck in.
Ergh… “Ne…Snea…SEL!” With a mighty yank, her right claw flew out of the crag-
And she could just barely see a crescent shape flying back with it.
Panic set in as she reached back, letting go of the rock face to try and grab on. But soon, she was falling as well, plummeting towards the earth.
Oh Nobles, why did she do that? Never have less than 3 limbs on the rock at a time! That was, like, climbing 101. And she’d forgotten!
Looking down, she could see a snowbank nearby. Thank the Legends, that might be survivable. Deciding living was more important than a replaceable amulet, she pivoted to one side, trying to aim for the fluffy powde-
*FLOOF!*
…Ptooey. Well, she’d landed…
*floof*
And huh. The claw landed in front of her.
Digging into the snow as the precipitation faded, her claw snagged her father’s. She dutifully pulled it out, sighing sadly. She hadn’t reached the summit…and the sun was just barely visible on the horizon. It was too late, she'd never get there.
She’d failed. She’d never be a Noble now, not after having struck out like this. But at least she’d survived…and hah! She’d landed right beside the humans’ temple path. So close, and yet so far. That was worth a chuckle, dry as it was.
The laughter faded as she sat up, gripping the amulet as tight as she could. The Elders would be here soon - once the storm cleared, it wouldn’t be long before they saw that a Sneaslet was missing. And once they arrived, it would be over - she’d give back the amulet, receive her punishment, and go from there.
“Snea…” The clouds parted, Arceus’s ball of light emerging from the horizon. At least she could enjoy the view… she’d made it farther than she ever had. Farther than any of her littermates had… why, farther than anyone but the elders had! She could at least claim a bit of a reward.
As light spilled over the horizon, her ears twitched. The cries of the elders were just past the hill, no doubt panicked for her safety. Ah, she’d take the scolding. Better than dying, at least. “Ler…”
Blink blink.
What did she just say?
“Snea? Sn-sel-ler.” That… yeah, she could definitely hear a “Ler” syllable in there. Looking at the amulet, the Poison-type’s mouth fell open.
She was only holding was a small mess of cord. The claw was gone.
A small *tmp* led to her vision being obscured - was that a hat? On her head? Where did it come from?
Lifting the brim, the new Lady Sneasler blinked at the approaching elder Sneasals, who were staring at her in shock and awe.
“...Ler? Le-le…” Yeah, a nervous chuckle was the best reaction here. She’d actually passed the Trial?
Perhaps this headgear was a gift from Arceus, for her sheer tenacity. Either way, the new Lady of the Cliffs would stand and brush off her longer legs, adjusting the cap. “Sneasel?”
“Sne…” The Elders began their return trip, the new Lady following suit. There would be Discussions and Angry Words once they’d returned, but…
The Clan had their Noble now. And that’s what counted.
—-
A few hundred years in the future, a pair of brothers sat at a rail station, one sobbing as the other patted his back.
“Oh…why did that thing have to steal my hat from its station…why?”
“I am Emmet. I am upset about the forced redirection of your hat also, but it could have been a far worse track.”
“...W-what do you mean?”
The twins locked eyes. “It could have been you who had their tracks changed so drastically, Ingo.”
“I…I-Yes. I suppose so.” A sigh as the black-coated twin stood. “I will miss my old hat dearly. We went through many stations together. But it can be replaced.”
“Indeed. I am Emmet. I am glad you are here with me and not with that cap, Ingo.”
“I am at that station as well, Emmet.” Smile and hug. “I am at that station as well.”
And if either of them knew what would've happened a mere five years after Ingo's cap arrived in Hisui, they'd have been hugging tighter, crying louder, and thanking Arceus for letting them stay together.
#pokemon#pokemon legends arceus#pla#pokerus au#nobility au#lady sneasler#hisuian sneasel#Surprise! No Ingo!#Well he cameos at the end#But yeah#Plot twist!#No Eeby Deeby this time 'round#Except for Ingo's cap.#RIP Ingo's cap.#Rifts are smaller this time#So people aren't gonna be falling through.
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The Season
Author: @sabiekay
Pairing: Nobility! Seokjin x Lady's Maid! Reader
Rating: PG - PG13 (for a couple of choice words)
Genre: Romance, Nobility AU, Strangers to Lovers, Modern Alternate World
Trigger Warnings: class disparity, rigid patriarchal society roles and gender roles, a few bad words toward the climax of the story
Word Count: 31K
Summary: The Season is a time old tradition for the nobility and richest elite of both Erharan and your home country of Auteris to gather their social circles for elaborate parties and celebrations during the summer months. But for you, your role is to make sure the bubbly debutante, Miss Amelia Montison, looks her absolute best in her first Season as an eligible marriage candidate. As a lady’s maid, you shouldn’t to ask more - your life is only supposed to revolve around hers. But a chance encounter has you reevaluating your position, and you start to realize what potential your life could have if you start living for yourself.
Author's Note: This story will deal with rigid societal and patriarchal gender roles, along with a couple choice words toward the climax of the story. Classism and tradition will also will be a running theme throughout the story, so keep all of that in mind as you read. I was inspired by the rules and regulations surrounding how nobility and "commoners" were supposed to be treated and act around each other, especially around the Victorian era. However, this story takes place in the equivalent of our modern 2020s world, but in a different universe.
Read Here!!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43059849
IT'S HERE! Finally here! Thank you all for your patience as I finally release my longest story to date (in both word count and write time), and thank you so much for reading!
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a tumblr preview :)
In the Shade of Aurelias
Summary:
Lady Christine is the only heir to the wealthy Cunningham estate, it is her duty now at the proper age for betrothal to marry and enhance the family's legacy. With birthright omens in mind, her strict parents permit a choice of which suitor she shall marry after a period of courting. Amidst her chaperoned outings, a chance meeting sends her down a path of self-discovery and unravels a devastating life-long secret that makes her question everything she’s ever learned from her family.
What will Lady Cunningham decide to do with the truth? Who will she turn to when her world is turned upside-down and her path unclear?
Chapter 1 ✨
Morning rises, and peace flees from her.
At the first glimpse of light in the highest chamber, Christine stirs under the blanket of warm down feathers. She knows what is coming next, and buries her chin deep into the plump mattress below. Hoping she disappears into soft oblivion.
Within minutes, a cascade of hands waterfall upon Christine’s skin.
A stocky pair pulls the corner of her covers away to bat and re-fluff the outer garnish of her bed. Another leads her through the bedchamber and undresses her behind an elegant divider decorated in shiny gold accents. A bath is already drawn for her and a small wood stove heats a fresh pail of scalding water. Sore, reddened hands scrub the night’s reveries from the memory of her fair skin.
Firm hands, and she’s dry. Slender, sturdy hands, and she is dressed in the finest undergarments, awaiting the final tightening of her corset boned with ivory. Hands, and her face—the last untouched place—is covered in pressed powders to color her cheeks and the delicate skin above her blue eyes.
She takes her routine in stride, keeping her chin poised and her interactions pleasant with her handmaidens. It is a familiar testing ground for years of preparation as the only daughter of nobility. She is careful not to wipe sleep from her eyes, otherwise ruining the perfected canvas of her face.
Christine’s body is hardly her own anymore.
After her 20th birthday, an official announcement of her marriageability had been made which only increased her mother’s scrutiny. Lady Cunningham, having always been relentless in appearances, instructed Christine’s handmaidens under the threat of poverty to pay close attention to grooming details. With the sheltered daughter of Cunningham’s marriage a popular topic of Hawkinnes gossip, the insatiable expectations for perfection are at their highest they’ve ever been.
Thus, the servants fret, and Christine prays for another day without wrath fired upon the souls who doted on her.
Every morning repeats the same tortuous dance for her: wake, surrender, and offer a fleeting smile before the maiden scurry to their next errands of the day. The sweet aroma of baking bread squeezes its way through the double doors to her bedchamber, signaling the time to break for morning meal is nigh.
Christine takes one last glance in the vast mirror beside her wardrobe, dabbing a small amount of rouge to her pout. It is the latest deal she made with her servants, so she can have one glorious moment alone with her own thoughts and reflection. Between the ornate golden frame, the hollow-cheeked face staring at her is hardly recognizable.
Her golden hair is at least a foot longer since the last harvest season, pinned in twisted plaits layered across her scalp like a crown of opulence circling her head. High cheek bones poke against the thinning frame of her face, having lost the rounded shape of childhood. Most significant to her is the strange buzzing that returns to her fingertips the longer she leers at her own reflection, with eyes as blue as bottomless wells of cloudless skies.
She smudges the rouge with a fine cloth to smoothen the borders of her lips. A knock at the door startles her, causing her to flinch in place and nearly smear the deep red above her lip. With a delicate sigh, she tugs on her lower skirt, heavy with layers of white and pale blue, and kicks her feet to make her way safely to the looming wooden doors.
Creaking the doors, her escort of the day takes a bow in the open gap, clasping a closed fist to his chest. Christine nods and returns a well-taught smile back at her chosen guardian.
“It is time to meet with the lord and lady of the manor, my lady.”
The rest of the chapter will be posted to Ao3 tomorrow, stay tuned :)
#hellcheerauweek#hellcheer fanfic#hellcheer#fantasy au#nobility au#eddie x chrissy#eddie is a part of an exiled class of people aka mages#chrissy is a noblewoman under pressure to marry as soon as possible#there are twists and turns let me tell you#hellcheer fanfiction#hellcheer au
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Bring me Home
A story of love lost & found
Word count: 4.8+
Pairing: noble!osamu x maid!reader (link to fashion)
2nd pairing: platonicnoble!atsumu x maid!reader
Warnings: angst->fluff//making out//secret relationships
Rating: 🔞—MA themes involved & allusions to sex
Osamu & yn vibes on god fr fr^
𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝𝑜𝑛 𝑎 𝑗𝑒𝑤𝑒𝑙 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑦 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒． 𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑢𝑛𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑚 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑙𝑦 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑛𝑜 𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠．
“And that concludes our history lesson your graces,” The tutor says, closing his book. Around the older gentleman sat two twin royals who were board out of their skull because their mother had to have their lessons earlier in the day. Typically afterwards, the three of them would stroll the market checking on their subjects and the like.
Raising the twins of this noble family did come with a price: they did like to test one’s patience as children often do. However, when the time came for merit formal education to begin at seven, the twins had finally showed their personalities through and through. There was the brash and abrasive Atsumu who wasn’t afraid in challenging the stray dogs to a fight and win (by bringing home a pup or three one afternoon); and his brother who instead of leaving their abode, chose to make rancid concoctions in the kitchen while listening to the housekeepers (and chefs) gossip often blackmailing them in order for them to keep their job.
More times than they can count, their care takers might have dumped them into the knight training grounds to get a moment of peace. Sword fighting and hand to hand combat under the tutelage of the Kitas and Ojiros had exceptional results: those that guard their boys with their lives were the ones most dedicated to attend war council meetings (luckily there has been no true signs of uprisings elsewhere in this part of the country).
This continues until the boys roughly reach age seventeen. By then, a majority of their formal education has been concluded—both knew how the serving class’ wealth added to their own (studies had shown happier homes equates to the boost of morale in those who did work at their estate); those who were charged to care for them s as children were now much older, so whenever someone was amicably relieved, the boys were now wise enough to not only apologize for their misdeeds, but often invited them back for special celebrations… like today.
Today you were running late. It was an accident as you thought you had placed every formal garb upon the back of your wooden chair. Unfortunately, you did not and now here you were with nothing but a chemise, tan boots, and rough textured hair sticking in all different directions.
Your reflection in the oval dresser mirror was a bit dirty due to the dust in the lowly room where you’ve lived since Ms. Arimoto had retired two years ago. An apprentice to the gardeners, you seemed to pick up the work right after she had showed you the ropes. Often you were also tasked with covering for any housekeeping staff as life tends to send certain ones curveballs (like when Ms. Arimoto’s brother had his first child; Ani-chan got married and moved to his in-laws territory; and chef hikaru had recently came back from burying her grandmother).
A knock disturbs your mad rush to fix yourself appropriately to answer the door. On the other side, a squire clears his throat. He calls out your name right as you unlock your door. The status of you being half dressed has the lad in a flustered state.
“Tell those graces of yours I’ll be there in five minutes,” You huff. Your skirt is almost fastened while the chemise still is half untucked.
“Hai,” he salutes you and saunters off.
Slamming your door shut, you do your best to tuck the rest of the chemise into place and with that done, you pull over your peasant top. The bustier, which thankfully is worn enough to your figure, ties in the front. You leave your room, not giving a damn about your hair until you round the corner slamming into a very stiff, but warm wall…
“Oi.”
Walls don’t talk, your brain thinks. Oh, oh no…
“Are ya gonna t’apologize or not?”
You take a step back, draw in a breath, and through a false smile, you bow.
“Whatever do you mean? I honestly thought you were a wall, your grace,” You raise your head as you straighten up. “Forgive me, I was in a bit of a rush sir.”
Honeyed eyes which flared with delight whenever you were around seemed to have softened. You don’t have many friends within the nobles, but being close in age with dukes and certain duchesses did help in situations like this. Atsumu’s befriending of you when you had first arrived was nothing short of a prank. A wager between him and his brother, Osamu, to win the favor of any person outside their ranks would win. How did Atsumu win? He had asked you specifically to serve him tea in the parlor as his brother was about to proclaim his victory—in five minutes you came with four sets of cups and saucers as the aromatic tea fills the room. The first two were poured by your hands and as you stood by, each of the boys bring out a paper. The scribbles and scratches, from what you can tell, had names on them.
“And you, yn,” atsumu’s voice was curious. “What do we call our acquaintanceship?”
Eyes of graying clouds study your figure. Light mustard yellow with burgundy trim was the fashion fabric for the season and somehow it complements you. Your sunkissed skin from working the flower fields in their mother’s garden was proof enough which class you’re in, but though the sun favored you, when your eyes meet and bounce between those of the brothers, you ponder a bit more prior to answering.
“No one has asked me that before your grace,” you bring a thoughtful curled finger to your chin. “But I suppose ‘master and apprentice’ might be more appropriate to describe what I am to either of you.”
Osamu’s first instinct is to laugh hysterically at his brother’s tie breaker, who not to discredit Atsumu’s being kinder to you lately, because with that answer the game continues. You are dismissed and as you leave, you hear Atsumu whine saying he had thought for sure you were going to agree and say perhaps you’d be friends from them on. Your ears also pick up Osamu’s insults at his brother by praising your intellect when giving your answer. For whatever reason, hearing that praise made your steps a little lighter that day.
Presently, you stand face to face with Atsumu who in turn after your apology, asks you where you’re off to in such a hurry.
“Kitchen,” You reply. “Madame is showing us the desserts she’d like to serve this afternoon for tea.”
Feeling your excitement as you are told to scurry off., Atsumu shakes his head chuckling. To his left, his friend who is visiting for the day, Suna, raised an eye brow.
“Yn certainly had grown into her figure,” Suna makes a figure in the air with his hands. “Does your brother still latch on to her whenever he sees her?”
Atsumu turns to his fox-eyed friend. “It’s been two years since that foolish bet. Yet ah am not opposed to having yn around. She is a good friend to him and me, so why should we add more to the rumors they are lovers?”
“Because it’s funny?”
“‘m going to pretend ya didn’t say that, eh Suna? Especially if they’re the blindest dorks on earth.”
Elsewhere, as you make it into the kitchen, you grab the last apron. The madame of the house and head pastry chef didn’t necessarily called you out for your tardiness, so the mini-baking lesson had begun. Honestly baking was fun, yet since you had a not so secret secret, you found you did best when following dictated orders versus reading a recipe.
To be fair, you didn’t know what a library or a book was until you started working in the estate. A lot of the noble women often would bully you just because you pronounced words awkwardly and when word finally reached one of the twins, Osamu was rumored to have stood up for you; Atsumu on the other hand, had defended you as well mentioning you might not have had any formal education, but “yn-san manages ‘er time wisely and doesn’t run ‘er mouth like ya girls do.” And though it might have caused the ladies to be quiet, at least one of them has declined invitations back. That did not sit well at all for the mother who birthed outspoken boys to begin with. Although, after she had called you into her study, you notice Osamu was within earshot of the scolding you received for not defending yourself better.
“Your boys did it for me, majesty,” you stood a bit straighter. “And for that, I have the utmost respect for them.”
Your hands stayed at your side, knuckles white as they gripped the sides of your skirt. You’re first audience in a long time with her excellency had your heart beating outside your chest. Looking to where Osamu stood, you knew he couldn’t say anything at the moment while his mother was still furious.
“You may have respect for them, but what of their reputation?”
This again? Your thoughts circle the word reputation. Isn’t it enough that whoever wanted to rip your clothes was told not to by Atsumu? Or when you claimed you fell on the stairs, Osamu offered you a hand to stand up as the girls who passed by called you clumsy even with the evidence so blatantly seen on their smug faces after asking Osamu to drop you “because why should we be nice to staff members?” At this, Osamu whispers to you to pay them no mind; you straighten yourself out, disappearing without so much as a thanks—it comes a week later in the form of a tea service your mentors had advised you perform for the twins who made it bearable to be around such snobby women.
Their mother sees a thorn in front of her; the dress you wear is a hand-me-down from her girlhood days. The fabric then was heavy and uncomfortable in the summer months, yet alas the tailor who was to throw it out decided to gift it to you. How quaint, her excellency thinks. The sleeves were hemmed and the excess trim were cut away, leaving nothing but a simple gown in need of either a bustier or pea coat in this autumn weather.
“Madame, if reputation is what all noble people care or gossip about, then what makes them any different than those below their status?”
You bow as gracefully as you could manage, then exit the study. Your meals were withheld for a week and replaced with table scraps for verifying a truth so long forgotten. Thankfully when Osamu speaks to his brother about what their mother did, you started receiving messages during their tea breaks when you served them via the teas they drank: green tea meant extra entree, Darjeeling was a spare dessert, citrus was snacks, etc. from then on, when you dined with them, you became friends. The wager didn’t matter anymore.
Back in the present, as the tarts bake in the oven, you lean against the window facing the eastern sea. Knights and swordsmen are conducting their training and you spot a certain twin joining the fray. Others don’t pretend to notice the difference in chemistry your trio brings, yet knowing who recently requests you more over the other has people in the estate gossiping like mad. Those that tend to the Madame are quite bitter none of their trainees had won favor as fast as you did. Perhaps it’s the way the boys look to you for praise, yet you humbly say what needs to be said with an air of honesty which, to be frank, can be too acidic for some.
“Poise and grace can only get you so far,” ms arimoto said on the eve of your seventeen birthday. “So be honest and accept critique with kindness and you’ll do just fine, yn.”
You nod and ever since then, your brain reminds you of that advice. Surely, that Indian summer as the sun rises steadily higher, things were about to change…
A few days later, you’re outside tending to the garden. The night of the celebration had concluded with the twins readily sneaking out to party with the knights and others in your class as well to enjoy a night off of official duties. You’ve rarely seen your peers drunk, but when Ms Morimoto returns for her official retirement party, everyone raises a glass to the sky in her honor. Music and dancing were always encouraged and though your plate was still full, you eventually manage to make your way to the dance floor. Nights and other staff alike watch as you raise your hands up to the sky and wind your body in ways no one thought possible. It was then Ms Arimoto calls you an affectionate term of those who lived in the desert: hōseki (gem).
Maybe fraternizing with you in particular had rubbed the twins’ mother the wrong way, so their lessons were longer and more egregious than before. You were often sought after such lessons for snacks and tea breaks for this last quarter of months.
Three months you had a disruptive sleep schedule because though your priorities included tending the garden, whenever either Osamu or Atsumu refused their butlers or house keepers, those people come banging on your door. Not that they were jealous of you tending to the boys, but they were afraid they’d lose their jobs if one or all of them didn’t send you to the twins’ adjoining rooms. The worse of it was when both Atsumu and Osamu were scheduled exams at six to eight hour intervals because what was sleep then? When that hellish week was over, the boys found you passed out on the floor, the ceramic tray with the sandwiches shattered to your left as you just knocked out from exhaustion. You did give them quite a scare, so imagine your surprise when you wake up on the ottoman with your head resting against a pillow on Osamu’s thighs and your legs curled like a kitten against Atsumu, both were reading novel’s at the times silently as to not disturb you. Those who did come into the room to drop off food claimed to have seen nothing of the ordinary—just two brothers fretting over their friend’s well being.
Eventually, Atsumu was called for an abroad trip to the south for a summit while Osamu stayed behind to run the estate. Their parent was blissfully away conducting and reporting merchant routes with her council. As for you? You used this time to tend to your specialities: making sure your duties were completed at sundown everyday…even if it includes literacy lessons with Osamu.
You don’t speak a word of how he reads novels aloud to you and he teaches you how to pronounce the words from the picture books when he and his brother were four years old. He doesn’t mind the awkward way your lips, teeth, and tongue roll over difficult words like, “exuberant” or “dreary,” because he gets to squish your cheeks together to at least let your mouth remember the movements of such sounds.
You see the frustration dissipating when you said “extraordinary” back to him one morning. His hands don’t squish your cheeks then, he’s too busy trying to control the flustered look his agape mouth makes. You tilt your head to one side when you ask him to define what it means. He blinks at your question before making a blind bold choice of words.
“You,” Osamu’s voice is barely a whisper. “You’re extraordinary.”
“I am?”
You lean in to study those swirling gray orbs of his, almost teasing him with how close you actually are.Osamu replies with his lips against yours, not shying away from whatever needs tried to suppress for however long ago you first served him and his brother tea.
It’s over in an instant, and your eyes remained closed a smidge longer than his.
“Yes,” his lips press against the corner of your mouth again. “You are.”
You take the compliment to the grave but it’s only when his hands keep you in a lover’s embrace, does your heart sway. You warn him, dressed in the blues and whites he comes to adore, of the consequences if either you or him were to pursue this.
“We just have to be careful,” Osamu’s heart is not one to be deterred, yet he knows you have so much more to lose. He can’t defend you well if his mother chooses to throw you out; hell Atsumu would try to sneak you back in, but would the guards follow a kill or capture on sight plan like Kita is trained to do? Osamu sees the apprehension as your breathing pattern changes slightly. Chewing on your bottom lip, you bump your forehead against his. He smirks at you.
“Teach me a little more,” is all you add to this conversation before the books remain scattered and you let yourselves be tied by the fates design.
His hands raise yours to hold him securely by the shoulder and like those books filled with young lovers, you do just that. Those same lips that read to you stories borne of the imaginations of authors now presses eloquently against yours, your heart leaves the worries of the mind behind. It’s more desperate in the ways you grip each other’s clothing, he sighs angrily and curses the way women dress in this era, nearly tearing your collar apart to have his lips reach your décolleté and your palms support the back of his head as you push him impossibly closer. Your breathing is ragged as you let this continue.
“S-sir?”
Your promptly picked up and affixed to sitting on the desk, the books pushed back by the act. Osamu looms over you, a pained expression on his features.
“Don’t call me that,” his fingers brush stray strands of your hair behind your ears. “No titles when you’re with me..”
Your eyes are wide with apparent shock at first, but your hands seize the nape of his neck and you find the courage to violently kiss him back. He hears how you hesitate to say his name, but by gods is it a glorious whimper when you do the second before you smash his lips with yours.
Hands accentuate the greed your type of love fulfills—the unfastening of fancier tunics on him and the unlacing of your bustier is as far as this lesson intends to reach. Your lover and teacher of such things supports your back with his hands as he guides you backwards a bit as your legs are compliant in making enough room for his body to fit between; you skirt rustles as it bunches higher and now Osamu’s almost as horizontal with you as you are with the desk.
Together, you taste the finesse of his rank, his hands feel the callouses you earned toiling the days away (making snacks, brewing teas, assisting in the gardens, etc), so he tends to them as lovers do. Your breathing together is ragged and though you relish in his touch as his fingers dance over the scars and little scrapes here and there. He presses short chaste kisses to the tips of your fingers, catching the way the sun glimmers in your eyes.
“Is this how we start?”
Such an innocent question to a compromising state of undress, Osamu thinks. He helps you rest comfortably on his arms, as he chuckles lightly.
“Yes,” he tilts your chin up, grazing your lips with his own. He feels you smile beneath him before he kisses you tastefully there. The room is a complete disarray, however, when he laces your bustier back and you assist in fastening his charcoal colored rank cloak on his shoulder, you realize after today, you both must tread lightly. Whether you are called in the dead of night to make a pot of tea or for him to explicitly relieve you of your duties and have your second take over your chores so you could enjoy the lake house with him, no one suspects the sudden blossoming kinship you form. Even if the noble ladies who try their luck at once again forming amicable bonds with Osamu, it is soon rumored they first have to pass your judgment. Typically you would have been compensated the honor of being his assistant, yet with such a trivial formality and practice forgotten, however when Osamu is forced to participate in these meetings, one notices how the aloof twin seems to be enamored by your presence.
Come nightfall on one such day, when the last guests leave, Osamu finds you in a hall by the armory and promptly pushes you into the nearest room. His lips greet you first, your hands are pinned above your head. It’s warm here and he’s impossibly burning his love everywhere you’re exposed skin can be reached. Your hands,when released, start their perfected rehearsed dance to rid him of his clothes—the stays are loose enough that when the bustier falls, it joins the cape and tunic from earlier.
Here, when you open your eyes, you’re stunned by how strong he is; muscles formed and conditioned to raise broadswords and shields now are used to lift and carry you. There is a cot and you find yourself in mere seconds straddling the thighs of the man who taught you words and their meanings; how eloquent your voice is when you quietly say his name. He says yours when he brings your knuckles to his lips. Languid kisses expresses his need to have you, all of you, if you’ll allow it. You fall into a steady rhythm as your hands explore his tensed back, accidentally scratching his shoulder blades and his hips buck up to warn you. Raising a brow, you ask him to do it again, and this time, as you let a chortle slip, your other hand cups his lightly stubbled cheek.
“Don’t be shy now,” you murmur.
The hand that hand snuck to rest against his shoulders now travels and wraps around where he holds the small of your back. Your skirt is bunched just above mid thigh here. Testing the waters, you lay his palm there. It’s as close to where you might need him later, but for now hearing him inhale and exhale a nervous laugh gets you to lazily smile at him.
“It’s going to be ok,” you lean down to ghost your own lips over his. “I trust you.”
Though Osamu believes every word you said, his body is pulsating in ways he didn’t think it could; rarely when he was off age did a person vex him so. His hand as your lips keep distracting seeks refuge s as it disappears almost completely under what little fabric is left. You whimper at the sensation, but when this a soft mewl falls from your mouth when you rest your head against his chest, he’s curious just how many more times he could hear you like this. Hands aside, Osamu asks with a tug of your under shirt, right before the lace of the chemise is exposed to him. You in your flustered state, create enough space for him to lift the thickest fabric (it was prospected to be cooler at night) he had felt on a commoner, up and over your head. You cross your arms over your chest the chemise doesn’t do much to stop the diver traveling up your spine, so what does your lover do? He takes his last layer of upper clothing off and drapes it over your shoulder. Osamu’s a little broader than Atsumu, and you realize this first hand. You uncross your arms, he gently smiles down when you carefully trace over the healed wounds of hood childhood. You’re asked if you’re afraid knowing how violent he could be, some of the scars looked severe; “why would I be when I’m with you?”
“Yer gonna be the death of me,” he deftly says. Osamu’s answer came attached with a confession sayings numerical value of how long he had wanted to have you like this. Holding you close and even closer still if you’d allow it. You recall having been educated as best you could by the doctors who frequent the estate on matters in the bedroom when you turned of age. Surely satisfying a prospective husband was loosely implied, but seeing as this may be the second time someone had you (the first happened when you found out the baker’s son was to marry the second daughter of a banker; he wanted to learn and unfortunately at the time, you were the only person his age. You don’t mind you gave into him so easily, because he did treat you with care and with his earnings, he even went to apothecary who was able to provide birth control potions for both of you.)
That was then, this time with Osamu, you’re changing the notion in your head of what constitutes as an act of love. You were foolish and naive to think whatever had transpired between the baker and you was an educative transaction. Yet in the way Osamu’s eyes are clouded with the thoughts of you above him, you see and feel his anguish push against your body where you sit. So, you gently push him on his back and undo the top of his trousers. His hands are at his side, but his eyes are enamored with lust blown pupils. Are you seriously going to undress him here? Not even in his own bed, but here? Your hands are deft and lightly tracing over the area he needs the most attention, yet as the crickets outside become louder, Osamu is frozen in place with the way you test an angle that has his head spinning. Your fingers loop around the button and with the drag of the zipper, the man’s breathing stutters. He groans at such a simple act, but for what it’s worth, you lean down you and against his Cupid’s bow breathe a command for him to sit still.
“I’ll go slow, so treat me kindly ‘samu,” were probably the last coherent words you say before the heat is too much. Waking up next to each other half a day later, with bruises from the day before starting to blossom across your bodies, you both jolt awake. He’s tossing you your clothes and vice versa; how could either of you forget your duties that morning? Truthfully, you’re just glad you received a light warning and even medium tempered punishment. Osamu, on the other hand, had to at the very least, invite and host more women much to his dismay. Why would he want to if he knew he wanted you, especially after how you made him fall even harder on that stiff cot in the armory. Although, the butler and his fellow man in arms, Gin, days later asked him why his master seems so fond of you. Osamu shrugs making a mention of how you’re preferred company over his brother sometimes. Gin laughs, uttering an encouraging word or two about how you’re rumored among the working servants to be object of Osamu’s current desire. (“Who knew it was the other way around,” was all he said after being dismissed. Sworn to secrecy that one was, Gin wouldn’t dream to be disloyal to either twin, so he thought should he see you, he’d tell you in case you didn’t already know).
Two months into this endeavor and although there have been many rumors as to who brought out a gentle side of the once aloof fox, the answer is never traced back to you. Surely if asked, you amicably say you’re friends, but that is all there is to it. There elderly keepers of the estate turn a blind eye to the ever rising collar of your formal clothing, alas they keep their mouths shut as best they can when their Madame summons them to act as spies to see if they heard the name of her son’s lover. You were questioned once, yet how you lied through your teeth was worthy of the highest acting award, hell even when Osamu was called, he tells his mother he’s been fond of the daughters who frequently fawn over Atsumu. The more these mixers and parties with the other noble families occur, the more cloud cover you and Osamu’s relationship will have.
No one catches on until Atsumu returns surprisingly early. He’s making his rounds searching for Osamu to gossip about who he met, what he did, etc over the time he was away only to open the doors of the library to see your back and his brother looming over you. Poetry, words even Atsumu wouldn’t dare dream of saying aloud just to any person lest he loved them dearly, were spilling forth from his brother’s lips and on to yours. Atsumu closes the door as quietly as he can, his mind goes still at the thought. Then, the golden boy truly smirks as he walks down the hall. He says nothing, at the very least, not until he summons his brother to his chambers in the middle of the day. Tea wasn’t necessarily served, but the truth of how he knows his twin lies in the smug look he gives. Osamu’s dress shirt is slightly askew no thanks in part to you, yet when he sits across his brother, the grayed toned boy braces himself.
“Is yer heart true?” Atsumu’s question is the only one needed to ask. “‘Samu, I’m only asking this once.”
Osamu gives pause to read his brothers face—the seriousness in time could have meant he caught him with you this morning, right? Instead of an answer, Atsumu reads the way his younger by minutes sibling’s head hanging down in utter defeat, a plea on the brink of slipping out. It’s enough for Atsumu to clear the air.
“The old hag wouldn’t find out, yer secret is safe,” he says, then leaned back in his chair. “Who else knows?”
“…no one,” osamu replied, sheepish canine teeth puncture through his bottom lip.
Atsumu breathes a sigh of relief before asking how long his brother had begun to feel this way toward you. Usually they’d fight over things like toys and lately as they had begun to carve their own path, women seemed to be a touchy subject because when it came to you, it’s like a switch flipped. They were vying for your attention in the most obtuse of ways: Atsumu came to you with a tear in his formal cape, then Osamu wanted your opinion on festival flower arrangements, after that Atsumu asked if he could have you accompany him into town (just to see which gifts he’d bestow upon you when your birthday came up), Osamu though asked if you could meet him in the library to study maps for a while…
“Don’t let yn go,” Atsumu warns his brother as Osamu was about to leave his room. “I think we both know where I’d stand if you do.”
The door closes with a decadent thud and by the time Osamu returns to where he had last seen you, you were already gone. The books from earlier remained scattered in a sort of perplexing disarray. On the one hand, as he begins to tidy the room a bit, he realizes something is amiss the second the change of shift house keepers come in asking him if he’s seen you.
“What do you mean you haven’t seen yn? She was with you an hour or so ago, was she not?” your friend who covers your nightly route asks. Their voice elevates in a calm manner as if to hint you’ve definitely been gone a little longer than the hour mentioned. Osamu hands the novels over, thanking your friend with a nod, as he exits into the hallway.
Kita was enjoying a cup of tea in the parlor closest to the resting quarters when both Atsumu and Osamu barge in. The captain stares blankly at them as the boys each describe you in great and not so great detail. As he sips his tea, his face is unchanged as he says you were summoned elsewhere at the request of their mother. Atsumu stares at his brother and though his callused hands punches Osamu’s chest, his eyes are glazed in an angry, “you said you were careful,” stare.
Osamu exhales sharply the moment Atsumu turns in his heels.
“My men followed their orders, we cannot disobey direct ones,” Kita informs the younger sibling. The tea cup clinks against the table. “I advise you inform your mother, your grace, before yn-san is lost to you both.”
Osamu catches his breath only to run to locate the yells echoing through the doors of his parents’ bedroom. Atsumu is having a tantrum over losing you as quickly as a child who misplaced their favorite golden toy. Bracing himself as he walks in, Atsumu huffs as his brother stands shoulder to shoulder with him.
“Mother,” Osamu tries kindness this time. “Where did you send her?”
“Away from you two, obviously,” their mother turns over the papers she has in her hand. It was a trade offer too good to pass up. Perhaps this was what her trip was for: arranging a match. Or several potential ones for her unruly boys. “It’s about time you two relearn your place… especially you, Osamu.”
“Yer wrong for this, you know that?” Atsumu seethes. “Who’s to say Osamu wasn’t the only one who loved them? Hmm?”
Their mother slams her fist on the end table.
“The bitch seduced both of you?” Their mother scoffs. “Of course she did.”
Atsumu observes his brother’s fight or flight response manifest in the way his pupils dilate. The storm blessed sibling stands taller as he bows to cushion the blow of turning on his heels as he begins his journey in finding you.
His mother calls out to him one final time, “You leave this place Miya Osamu no longer my son, but an orphan to these lands!” She turns to face her eldest, stopping him before he to follows his brother’s lead: “You follow him, you too are orphaned and the line ends here.”
Those who linger outside the room overhearing this family matter stand aside as Atsumu walks past them. He heads in the direction of the westernmost stables where he knew his brother would be. In the stables, the brothers share a final conversation.
“Take this,” Atsumu presses a medallion of sorts which grants the owner safe refuge. “Don’t let what the old hag says get to you; you bring yn back. Whether as mah sister in law or as yer lover, do not rest until she is found, d’ya hear me?”
Osamu’s angered hands shake as his horse whinnies brusquely. Atsumu notices the house keeper he had passed on the way to his mother’s room—the cousin of the one cleaning the library right now—they bow prior to being called forth.
“Yn is important to us too,” they sniffle. “She taught us how to mend clothes just yesterday. Please, if any one can bring her back I know it’s one of you… Time is of the essence. Last I heard, they were headed to the port of call with her.”
And by the time Osamu gallops towards the docks, he sees a flash of lightning race through the clouds and he sees the shadow of someone who was dressed like you; when you reach the starboard side of the vessel you were taken to, your ears pick up your name in the wind. You gasp when you see the outline of a familiar figure by a horse. You raise your hand above to wave and you force a smile as you watch him drift further away.
Rewind to when you part ways with Osamu that morning: you were invited to attend an estate dinner with Osamu only to find out that perhaps Atsumu might have returned early. You hear the compatriots of those who were chosen by the elder master of the house return talking with their peers about what they saw or rather what goods the other territories had to offer. Atsumu, as you excuse yourself to pass through to the next area where your chores list would take you, welcoming them all back as one does, only to be snatched in a hallway. You tried to force yourself out of the binds your captors had used, but alas when you hear the familiar voices of several guards, you stop resisting. The blindfold didn’t really help in way shape or form to identify the assailants, yet all you could decipher was who gave the order to have to boarded on the next ship wherever far their coins could take you. You knew following your heart would be difficult, yet was the price worth it? Was earning his love worth this divide?
“Absolutely,” you mutter to yourself as your homeland drifts further behind you.
So the years went by. Within that time, you had grown into your new role as the assistant owner of a bouquet florist. You had received word over the last three months a certain golden son was seeking an arrangement signifying his rise to power. Your manager was out on a delivery run when the chime at the door rings.
“Be right with ya!” you instruct another apprentice how to finish wrapping the last bouquet for a wedding order.
Wiping your hands on the apron you wear, you pop around the corner to see an old face. You recognize the stature of the man whom you used to make rose tea for. Whether you cry or not, you try to keep your emotions in check as you attempt to greet your prosperous client.
“Atsumu?...”
The man embraces you like he would an old friend, perhaps even a sibling. He releases you and cups your cheek.
“Finally found ya,” he says, his tone is one of relief. “‘Samu an’ ah have been looking for ya fer ages.”
You furrow your brows and you raise your hands to remove Atsumu’s hands away gently. He nods in understanding your eagerness to ask the question which he was unsure how to answer just yet.
“Where is he?”
Atsumu inhales a shakey breath. How can he answer that question knowing his brother has not returned any of the letters he had sent over the course of their time apart. It’s been roughly six? Maybe seven years at best since everyone had last seen each other. There were always these rumors about a knave who would wander into towns searching for a girl he had loved, but when there was no sign of such a lady, he’d drown his sorrows until he had his fill then move on.
“Nursing a broken heart,” Atsumu has a sour face. “No thanks to that woman.”
Their mother had since relinquished her title the moment Atsumu had signed over the appropriate documents for robbing her of her power; the people and even the merchant factions were all in favor of this choice. Those in authoritative service offices often updated the newer leader of where his brother might have been spotted and as you hear these stories in the mid-afternoon sun, you wring your hands together in apprehensiveness waiting for the thrilling conclusion of this tale.
“W-why would he–Atsumu, where is he? If you know, please,” your voice is chillingly calm. You don’t demand anything less and as Atsumu hands you a paper when he leaves, he pauses to turn to give you a hopeful stare.
“His only crime was loving you, so it’s your turn, yn. Bring him home. Both of you, come home when you find each other. I’ll be waiting.”
The shop closes when the bells from the temple begin their hourly night chime. You lock the door after bidding your apprentice goodnight along with your fellow manager; casually walking the streets, those who frequent the shop greet you as you make way to the local pub. Paying the price of a pint of pear cider, you empty it just as quickly as it was poured. The barkeep hums a familiar tune as you stare at your reflection at the bottom of the light froth remants.
Glancing up, your lips stretch into a thin smile.
“Your brother stopped by today,” you push the glass back toward the bar keep. “Said when I find you I ought to bring you home with me.”
Arching an eyebrow at you, the same eyes from your youth sparkles in amusement. He leans over to kiss your lips (the other patrons whoop in the background); you laugh as you raise your pint glass in the air. You admire the moonlight streaks in your lover’s hair as he shakes his head at the noise. The years have been kind and not all of what Atsumu had said was a lie; it was factual to a degree. Only reason why the letters when unanswered for so long was because his brother and you were too busy establishing yourself in the town under the guise of newlyweds seeking a more stable home. The locals here were the most constant and eager to see you both succeed, so whether or not the reach of the estate would follow only time would tell.
You wave at the nightly regulars before rounding the back of the stairs to your shared flat. Before you take your leave, you feel a strong set of hands grip your waist and pull you back into a tight hug. A voice strong and gentle like the day you met him formally in the halls of his estate tickles against your ear. You bite back a grin when his lips graze your temple. Your fingers lace over his as his words leave you with dreams of a sepia hued montage; the disgraced master runs to the docks that night and as his destiny leaves the shores, she waits in the same citadel until her former master crosses her path en route to a market; behind the closed doors of the inn do both let their hearts’ passions free.
Even now, when you wear his colors in the threads you dress yourself with and perhaps the reason why Atsumu chose to speak as if his brother is lost in a public area; the pattern of your apron from the shop was the same as the inside tone of his brother’s riding cloak. Atsumu knows his brother is alive just by that alone, your apprehensiveness earlier was out of concern Osamu would be imprisoned for being an exiled son, yet Atsumu reassures you he just wants to reinstate all the titles that was lost to him since their mother’s ego was tarnished. Atsumu sighs before he leaves saying that all he wants was his family to be happy and you didn’t refuse his invitation to come home. After all, with the slight slump in Atsumu’s shoulders you could tell he misses you both dearly, so you tell him you’ll talk to his brother. The note reinstating what title and land deed would be bestowed upon their return was laid out in full, however you were still learning how to read ledgers at the age of twenty-four, so you thought it best to leave it on the bedside table.
For now though, you lean back to glance up at the sky gray eyes you’ve often found refuge in. Your lips curve into a curious grin.
“Hmm? Wanted me to stay a little while longer?”
You feel your lover shake his head before formulating a proper answer to your question from earlier:
“Say the word wife and we’ll leave at dawn to see this brother of mine... I heard the peonies are in full bloom this time o’year.”
#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue#sora after hours#sora scribbles 2022#nobility au#noble!osamu x maid!reader#platonic noble!atsumu x maid!reader
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a fancy Rosario for their Nobility AU! i had a lot of fun designing this.
important note: of course they don’t keep the bird in that cage. its just an extremely fancy travel carrier (he’s their emotional support bird).
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Tumblr I think y’all will enjoy this fic idea more than twitter
https://twitter.com/notmymusicdisc/status/1526796649611280384?s=21&t=cjI3H7Wc-TyFjEhN2sQqQA
#dream smp#orphan au#niki dream smp#niki nihachu#dsmp#cniki#cphilza#ctechno#sbi#cranboo#ctommy#ctubbo#fic ideas#niki centric#cwilbur#mumza minecraft#philza minecraft#noble#nobility au#characterization from different eras of dsmp#not completely ooc characters
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Prompt #246
Person A didn't often get to see System B smile like this.
For once, it wasn't fake or forced, meant to get ahead in the competition that was socialization among the nobility of their kingdom. Staring up at the stars, this smile was as real as their hand in Person A's – and yet, Person A could barely believe they could be so lucky as to have both to treasure. How long now had it been since they first met System B, climbing their way up the social ladder with carefully constructed charm that gave them power to push back every time someone tried to strike them down? How many times now had they witnessed System B's clever tactics and quick thinking save them from ruin?
... How many more times would they have to see their love come so close to tragedy?
Person A barely kept themself from squeezing System B's hand to reassure themself that they weren't going anywhere, and turned their gaze away from System B's smile to the stars they were so enchanted by.
'I swear on my life, System B... that I will do my very best to make sure you never fear such a thing again.'
#pluralgang#plural system#plurality#pluralprompt#prompt blog#prompt#nobility au#villainess au#partnership#courting
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