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downwiththeficness · 8 months

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Shadow and Veil-Chapter Seventeen

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction. Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed. You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen eyes. This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence, and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.

Word Count: ~4000

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Masterlist Read on AO3

She waited the agreed upon few days before making a trip to the library. Holding her Intro to Spanish book against her chest, Eva strode inside. They hadn’t discussed how the messages would be passed back and forth. No time to work out the details with the threat of being found out so close.

Turning down an aisle, Eva tried to put herself in Horacio’s mindset. It wasn’t exactly easy. Other than the barest details of where he was from and what he was doing in her life, Eva didn’t know that much about him.

She couldn’t help but to have doubts about whether or not she’d put her life into the hands of the right person. History had proven that she wasn’t the best judge of character and the stakes were too high for her to make this kind of error. She kept coming back to the conversation Horacio didn’t know she overheard, to the way he cut off any plan to use her as a tool for the investigation.

Horacio was a man on a mission, a man determined to close this case with an arrest and justice served. There was simply no other option, no other acceptable outcome. Eva was a key resource that he’d refused to tap in pursuit of his goal. He could have pushed her into testifying, threatened or bribed her to bend to his will.

But, he hadn’t.

Horacio gave her all the control, let her decide the terms of their relationship. He negotiated her wildly oscillating emotions and, at the same time, stubbornly held the line when it came to her safety. His dedication, in hindsight, was nothing less than baffling.

Eva didn’t know what to do with that kind of confusion. She supposed she would do exactly what she was doing now—looking for a message in the non-fiction section. Another ten minutes or so passed like this, Eva meandering through the stacks aimlessly while she looked for clues. Eventually, she had to resign herself to the knowledge that she would need a little help.

Swinging around the corner, Eva headed for the circular desk in the center of the library. Behind it sat a middle aged woman who was carefully checking a stack of books back into the system before setting them on a rolling cart to be returned to their proper shelf. Eva didn’t recognize her, but she looked friendly enough.

Eva approached with a smile and held up her book, “Hi, I’d like to check this out again.”

The librarian returned the smile, “Of course. Any others catch your fancy?”

“Um, no,” Eva replied, “But, I thought maybe you might have something for me. My name is Eva Moore.”

It was a reach, a shot in the dark. But, Eva was more anxious about leaving Horacio waiting for her than she was about asking stupid questions in a nearly empty library.

Leaning forward, the librarian said, “I’m Margaret. Unfortunately, I don’t know anything about having something for you.”

Eva’s heart dropped a little in disappointment. It looked like she was going to have to keep trying. Nevertheless, she’d been there for half an hour at least already and she didn’t have much more time between meetings. She would have to come back tomorrow and see if she could figure out where the message was hidden.

“Do you like music, dear?”

Thrown by the odd change in topic, Eva shrugged, “A little.”

Margaret reached over and picked up an eight by three card from a small stack on the desk, “There’s this new group playing our charity event next week. Maybe you’ve heard of them. Stag Nation?”

Brows lifting, Eva almost smiled, “Yes, I’ve heard of them.”

“A bit too rock and roll for my taste, but their singer is just lovely.” She handed Eva the card, “You should stop by, maybe make a donation.”

Eva nodded, “I’ll do that, thank you.”

“Wonderful,” Margaret chirped, “Here’s your book. You’ve got it for another two weeks.”

Thanking Margaret, Eva took the book and tucked it against her chest again. It wasn’t until she got to the parking lot that she realized the card in her hand was probably how Horacio sent the message. Eagerly, she dropped into the seat of her car and read it over.

She read it over again.

If there was a coded message in it, Eva was hopeless as she tried to decipher it. Frustrated, she sighed and tossed the card into the passenger’s seat. She picked up the book in her lap and went to do the same with it, pausing when she caught the edge of a bookmark peeking out from the pages.

Opening the book to the marked page, Eva checked the little piece of cardstock for writing or anything unusual in the type. Nothing. Just a standard bookmark with the library’s information on it. She threw it atop the Stag Nation invite.

And that’s when she noted the post it note. Yellow. Standard size. On it was writing that was neat and orderly. A date. A time. An address. Eva smiled as she read it over. Then, she closed the book and started the engine.

The rest of her meetings for the day were a blur of note taking and pretending that being asked to make coffee didn’t make her want to toss a cup of it into their face. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about the post it, wouldn’t even touch the book again, until she pulled into the driveway of the house.

After throwing it into her purse, Eva slung the bag over her shoulder and walked inside. At the door, she listened for an indication that there was someone else in the house. Josh hadn’t paid her any attention since the night of the party and Alexei seemed to have disappeared, as well.

She didn’t know what was discussed in The Lounge that night, or why Josh felt the need to call an emergency meeting. There was nothing on the books that indicated any shift within the company—no large sum of money transferring to one of the off shore accounts, no unusual expenses. There weren’t even any complaints from one of their employees.

It had to be the new project Josh was working on. Eva cringed as she thought about it and what the consequences of a success would mean for others like her. If Horacio already delivered the product, Josh would be running tests on it. One or more of those tests would be given to omegas under the guise of a federally funded clinical trial.

The only silver lining about the whole thing was that it would take months for Josh to synthesize a viable product. Eva hoped that Horacio would have his investigation wrapped up by that time.

There were no sounds, no footsteps, no voices. The house felt empty. Eva released a soft breath and she pulled off her shoes. The ache in her feet eased as she ascended the staircase. It was echoed by the bruising that was still healing along her side. Every day it got better, but Eva still made herself look at it in the mirror so that she didn’t forget why she was doing what she was doing.

As Eva cleared the landing she heard the drag of something heavy against carpet. She froze, listening intently. Another soft scrape—it was coming from Josh’s office. From this angle, Eva couldn’t see the if the door was open or closed.

Setting her purse and shoes aside, Eva tip toed along the well-mapped path towards Josh’s office. Each step was deliberate. Silent. She turned the corner into the upstairs hallways just in time to see the door open to Myra’s surprised face.

“Eva,” she yelped, “I thought you were at work.”

“I was,” Eva replied, “My last meeting ended early.” Then, “What are you doing in Josh’s office?”

She stumbled over her words before settling on, “I was looking for a print out of the raffle winners so that I could send them a thank you note.”

Eyes narrow, Eva felt her disbelief crawl over her expression, “Peggy has that information. You know that.”

“She said she gave it to Josh.”

“Why would she do that?” When Myra went to lie again, she cut her off, “Why are you really here?”

Myra’s mouth pursed in frustration, “Josh has been keeping secrets. Some new initiative that he won’t talk about.”

Eva shook her head, “He’s allowed to have his hobbies.”

“Not when it affects the company,” Myra bit out.

“He’s the CEO.”

“I’m the chair of the Board.”

“I don’t see how that matters.”

Myra huffed, “Because we are at risk for an audit—IRS, OIG, the whole alphabet soup of governmental agencies. They’re weeks away from a documents request.”

Eva stared at her, trying to discern if she was aware of the other investigation, “How do you know that?”

Tossing her head, Myra answered, “You think Josh is the only one with friends in high places?”

Fair enough.

“Those friends,” Eva hedged, “did they tell you why they were investigating?”

Myra crossed her arms and leaned against the door jamb, “Embezzlement, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Among some other minor issues.”

Eva took a calming breath, “And, you were in his office…?”

“To find your financial files.”

She didn’t know if Myra would be able to decipher the books well enough to spot where Eva moved their money, or how she protected it from being discovered. The IRS and OIG would have a significantly higher chance of figuring it out.

“What were you going to with them?”

Myra shrugged.

A little voice in Eva’s head whispered angrily. Out loud, she said, “You were going to destroy them.”

A shocked ‘no’ shot out from Myra’s lips, “I was hoping to head off the investigation. Give them something to chew on to that their superiors would back off.”

Eva almost believed her. Almost. It wouldn’t be the financial documents she filed every month that would tip off whichever agency took lead on the case. They were pristine—she’d seen to that. Which left a suspicion that Eva was not prepared to voice, nor make accusations about.

She stepped to the side, “You need to talk to Josh about this. I’ll give you a few days to sit down with him. After that, I’ll tell him, myself.”

“Eva,” Myra pleaded, “this is serious.”

“I know,” she replied easily, “That’s why Josh needs to be pulled in. He’ll never forgive you if he’s blindsided by this.”

Visibly swallowing, Myra nodded, “We’ll go out to dinner this week. I’ll tell him.”

“Good.”

Saying nothing, Eva went and got her purse and shoes from where she’d left them and trudged to her room. Only when she was safely behind the closed door did she let out a hiss of anger through her teeth. Throwing the bag on the bed and the shoes on the floor, Eva’s mind whirred with a thousand angry thoughts.

She stopped.

Standing in the middle of her room with her hands on her hips, Eva just...stopped. Whatever Myra might be planning was immaterial when it came to her plans. She had a goal to meet and had to keep her eyes on that goal until it was achieved. Myra was a distraction she didn’t have time to look into.

Intro to Spanish peeked out at her from the depths of her purse. Eva eyed it as she thought about the other distraction in her life. Really, she shouldn’t be entertaining Horacio, either. Meeting him was a massive risk that she shouldn’t undertake.

Eva was still going to meet him.

She tipped her head back and sighed towards the ceiling. Eva was such an idiot, but she was going to meet him. Not because she wanted his help with getting her out of her marriage—which she did. That wasn’t all of it.

Eva was going to meet him because of the way he looked at her. Her mind drifted back to his face cast in the glow of moonlight. Open and vulnerable, he lost all the sharp edges that kept others at bay. She recalled the reverence of his hands as he touched her side and the wide honesty in his eyes.

Horacio might be playing the part of Diego, but only when he had to. As soon as they were alone, the disguise fell away and Eva was left with a man who confounded everything she knew. An alpha who hadn’t once tried to assert himself as such. A law enforcement officer who was willing to let Eva, a criminal, slip away while he sought out a larger target. A person who had—not once—harmed her, threatened her, talked down to her.

She was going to see him because she needed to know that such a person existed outside of her little bubble of a life. Eva, for the first time in so long, had hope. This small, but growing, hope was more dangerous to Eva than her husband, than even Alexei.

Eva didn’t care.

She was going to meet him.

And, that’s what she did. On the assigned date, at the assigned time, Eva pulled into the small parking lot of a nearby wilderness reserve. She got out of the car and locked it, scanning the area for Horacio.

It was a lovely day. Fall hadn’t yet set in, but the heat of Summer was abating. A cool wind blew through trees whose leaves were just starting to turn. All around her, people were enjoying the weather. There were mothers playing with their children, dogs fetching toys from the grass. Eva smiled as she took it in.

Leaning against the side of her car, she crossed her arms and waited. Horacio would find her eventually. In the meantime, Eva could think about what she might tell him when he did.

Eva wasn’t surprised by the fact that there were concurrent investigations in to Ardent. She was being smart about moving their money around, but Josh’s insistence on this new project of his had forced her to make moves with the accounts that would definitely be noticed. The fact that Myra hadn’t yet told Josh made Eva think that the investigators were further along than Myra let on.

Despite the fact that Eva agreed not to make any moves without Horacio, she was already picking up the small caches of money stashed around the city. There were two or three left, one of which she would have to be extremely careful in retrieving. After that, she would get her passport from Josh’s safe and drive like hell to the airport. And that’s where her plan got a little fuzzy.

She didn’t know where she would go once she actually walked up to the desk to buy her ticket. Alexei had resources, would go just about anywhere to track someone down. Leaving the country wasn’t going to be enough to deter him. And, even if she flew to the ends of the earth, Eva’s passport could be tracked.

Having the cash would help. The bills stacked neatly in the duffle with the dress still carrying Horacio’s scent would be all she had. After it was gone, Eva would have to figure out how to keep herself alive with the skills she’d developed working for Josh.

It was doubtful that anyone would let her be an accountant, or work at the level she was accustomed. But, Eva would definitely excel at secretarial work. She could take the condescension of an incompetent boss if it meant she got to live with a small modicum of freedom.

Footsteps drew her attention. Horacio sauntered up with a fond smile, stopping just short of her. Eva dropped her arms and straightened as she looked him over. He was wearing a button up that was less Horacio and more Diego. The fabric shimmered lightly as it molded around his shoulders and chest. It was tucked into a pair of slacks that were tailored to his frame. The hem perfectly draped over a pair of blue leather shoes that had been on display at a high end department store a few weeks back.

“You’re not dressed for a hike,” Eva said.

Without missing a beat, Horacio replied, “Neither are you.”

She looked down at the sundress she was wearing. Eva debated putting on a pair of sweatpants and a t shirt that morning, but something about the delicately embroidered flowers called to her. And, of course, she had to wear the espadrilles to match.

“You have a point.”

Horacio held out his hand, “Take a walk with me.”

His palm was warm against hers. Eva followed behind him as he led her to a paved path into the trees. As she walked, his scent curled into her nose. Eva took deep breaths of it, enjoying the way her body responded.

The hair on her arms the back of her neck stood on end. Her heart palpitated in her chest, sending heated blood into every extremity. Instincts that Eva didn’t even believe she had not too long ago rose up and demanded that she slow him down so that she could pull him into her body—a body that was reminding her that she hadn’t been able to kiss him for almost a week.

Horacio slowed as they approached a bench and motioned for her to sit, “How are you?”

Eva blinked away the fantasy of scraping her teeth over the nape of his neck, “I’m fine.”

Easing down onto the bench, he fixed her with a disbelieving look.

“The injuries weren’t serious,” Eva explained, “I’m all healed up.”

He sighed as he rested his arm across the back of the bench, “I’m not talking about the bruises, although I am glad they’re healing.”

The way his fingers brushed against the bare skin of her back was distracting, “What are you talking about?”

“I asked you not to make any moves.”

“I haven’t.”

“That means you were supposed to act as normal.”

“I have.”

“You haven’t been shopping.”

“What does that mean?”

Horacio looked out towards the lake in front of them, “It means that you’re deviating from your routine. You need to go pick up some expensive pair of shoes or purse, do what you’ve done all along. Otherwise, your husband and his friends are going to get suspicious.”

Eva’s mouth curled as she bit back the venom that wanted to spill forth.

He glanced sideways at her, “Say it.”

“Say what?”

“The inside thought you’re holding back. Say it.”

Passing her hand over her brow, Eva did as he asked, “I’m balancing a lot of obligations right now—to my husband, to myself...to you. I am facing the possibility of jail, if Josh doesn’t kill me first. You’re going to have to forgive me if I’m not in the mood to shop.”

Horacio smiled, “Its good to see that there is still some fight left in you.”

“Fuck off,” she bit out.

He laughed and her stomach flipped in her belly. Eva was irritated with him, but the sound of his amusement went a long way to soothe that irritation. She fought to hold onto it and failed. And that made her irritated all over again.

“I’m doing the best I can.”

Horacio touched her shoulder, “I know.” Then, “Honestly, you’re handling this a lot better than I thought you would.”

“Gee, what a compliment.”

His touch lingered, “It was a compliment.”

Embarrassed by the sincerity in his eyes, Eva looked towards the lake. There were ducks swimming peacefully in a row—babies following their mother. A few fishermen were casting their lines on the opposite shore. People and animals, alike, unaware of the untenable situation she and Horacio were facing.

“Are you aware of the IRS and OIG investigations?”

He nodded.

“Then, you know they’re getting ready for a document review. Documents that I prepared.”

Another nod.

“Myra knows. She’s going to tell Josh in a few days.”

Horacio rolled a shoulder, “He won’t take that well.”

“No, he won’t. I have no idea what he will do with that information.”

“I do,” he replied.

Eva looked at him, “What?”

Horacio licked his lips and his hand flattened against her shoulder blade, “He’s going to try to pin it on you.”

Her mouth opened in shock. Eva had her suspicions, especially after talking to Myra, but to hear it said out loud set her back on her heels. Horacio hummed a soothing noise as his hand ran up her shoulder to the back of her neck where he squeezed gently. Eva leaned into the pressure as she accepted what he said as fact.

“So, I am going to jail.”

“No,” Horacio contradicted, “Not if I can help it.”

She rolled her eyes, “You won’t get a choice. Not if he’s done the job right. I handled all the books, bribed government officials.”

“And your husband,” he added, “used that money to fund illegal drug trials and run an opiate ring that will soon expand into a second state.”

Eva shook her head, “We’re both culpable.”

“No,” he said again as he slid closer to her, “I saw him hurting you on several occasions. I’m willing to testify that he used physical violence to coerce you.”

Her jaw set as she prepared to be fully honest with him, “That’s not truth. Not really. I’m good at it, Horacio. Very good. I liked the puzzle of moving the money, of hiding everything we were doing behind layers of protection and deals brokered behind closed doors. And, that’s the truth.” She paused to take a breath, “It was the thing that kept me going.”

Until I met you, she didn’t say. That would be too honest.

Horacio gave a very small smile, “I’ve learned a lot working with your people. Their policies and procedures. The way they think about criminals and the way they go about their business.” He leaned close, “I also learned that they don’t care about the truth. They care about finding someone to blame.”

He wasn’t wrong. But, there would be something he needed from her to make it happen.

“Only if I testify, right?”

The resignation in his expression told her all the answers she needed to know. Eva blew out a breath and stood from the bench. They had nothing to talk about and she needed to be getting home.

Horacio followed her onto the path that led to the parking lot, “Eva, wait.”

Over her shoulder, she said, “I’m not testifying.”

He caught up to her, stopped her with a hand on her elbow, “I’m not asking you to.”

Eva swung around to face him, “Then, what are you asking me to do?”

They stood there, heavy breaths between them. Impatient, Eva made a kind of ‘well?’ gesture with one hand. It was a dare for him to tell her the truth of what he wanted. To be as honest with her as she had been with him.

Horacio shifted on his feet, but said nothing.

Disappointed, Eva stepped away, “That’s what I thought.”

Chest aching with rejection, Eva strode away. She got into her car and started the engine. After pulling out of the parking lot, Eva drove the whole way back to the house in silence. Then, she walked inside and headed straight for her room.

In her closet, Eva reached to the very back and opened the duffle. Beneath the piles of money, she found her dress. Refusing to bring the fabric to her nose, Eva took it straight to the washing machine and threw it in. She added more soap than was strictly necessary and then shut the lid firmly.

Standing against the wall of the laundry room, Eva watched the machine move through its cycle. It was wrong to put so much hope into Horacio and it was wrong to expect him to bend to her will. He had rules to follow, laws that kept him walking the line. Laws that Eva had broken time and again.

If she was going to get out of this house, out of her marriage, Eva was going to have to rely on herself. That was all there was to it.

#Shadow and Veil #Narcos #Horacio Carrillo #carrillo #AU #A/B/O dynamics #maurice compte

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kaiowut99 · 1 year

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Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters GX Episodes 93 and 94 Subbed (Finalized)

(Previously: Episodes 91 and 92 Subbed [Finalized])

(Check out my Subbed!GX Stream Masterpost!)

TURN-93: A White Night Duel! Judai VS Asuka (Part 1)

The two personalities within Saiou are at odds with each other--one is a spirit impacted by the Waves of Light and now aims to destroy the world, while the other is a good spirit trying to prevent that. In order to prevent the world’s destruction, the good spirit hands two important keys over to Judai and Ed--upon learning of that, the Saiou impacted by the Waves of Light sends in Asuka to face Judai in order to retrieve his key. With the powerful deck she was given by Saiou, Asuka begins her offensive on Judai with her White Night Queen.

TURN-94: The White Night Dragon! Judai VS Asuka (Part 2)

Asuka’s deck, enhanced by Saiou, gradually drives Judai into a corner. Struggling, Judai appeals to Asuka’s heart as he tries to return her to her old self, but few of Judai’s words sink into her as she finally summons her strongest card, White Night Dragon. At an impasse, Judai uses a trump card packed with the “feelings for Asuka” that Manjoume and Fubuki entrusted him with, but...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My subs for episodes 93 and 94 are revised and finalized!

Things start amping up a bit here as we get into the last 11 episodes of the season: we’re given more indication that Saiou isn’t all bad, but the bad that is there gets Asuka fully under his control in order to make sure his world-destruction plan stays on course. 93 does establish a bit more to Asuka and Fubuki’s relationship, while Manjoume gets brought up to speed on how relentless he was with Asuka (shame Ojama Yellow opted against doing it after Judai beat him to keep him deluded), along with showing how cold Saiou’s full control has made Asuka with her new... freezing-cold deck, but her three-part lockdown combo is interesting. 94 builds on that as Judai tries to warm up Asuka’s dormant fighting spirit, to some effect once White Veil gets destroyed, leading up to the great “Impossible Victory” scene as he has Flare Neos defeat her and get the job done.

In terms of my translations this go-around, I did want to make sure I more clearly showed Asuka’s coldness while under Saiou’s influence, having her use “shall” or “It is my turn” among other word choices; you’ll notice that once White Veil’s destroyed, I slowly make some livelier choices with her lines like using her contracted “It’s my turn” again and eventually some emphatic italics once she snaps at Judai. (The dub, for their part, made Alexis even ruder than she had been, which is... a choice given she’s supposed to be a cold puppet at the moment...)

Edit-wise, not as many animation errors to fix in both episodes, but still a fair amount, the bulk of them in 94, with a mix of card error and quality-of-watching ones like some quick split-screen fixes. Due to Tumblr’s dumb link limit in posts yeeting them out of the tags used for them and limiting their reach, and since I still wanted a visual element to it, I’ve made a separate post with my usual fix/edit breakdown for the interested!

(In some quick housekeeping news, I also gave episode 3 a quick revision, as helping with some work on a special project I hope to force into a tag on here sometime soon made me realize that the one “You were tricked by a letter into casually coming here” line as Junko and Momoe interrogate Shou in the Girls’ dorm was actually said in two parts by them rather than one as I’d had it; going back to check on it, it was subtle, but you can definitely notice the voice change as Junko and Momoe speak. That correction will be up in the Masterpost and NAC soon.)

Anywho, enjoy; with Asuka out of the Society of Light, we’ve got Shou confronting Hell Kaiser Ryou next time in 95--a great episode for Shou’s character--and an enlightening science duel Judai takes on in 96 (a bit... too enlightening for a certain someone); stay tuned!

#yugioh #ygo #ygo gx #GX #yugioh gx #yu-gi-oh gx #yu-gi-oh! gx #yu gi oh gx #Asuka Tenjoin #Judai Yuki #my subs #[i guess the nice thing about splitting the breakdown from the main release post is i can make the release post less wall-of-texty lol]#good two-parter tho #plus the Tea Sun In's team working on the art/animation for 94 definitely helps it #especially those Gil bo Noh cuts in there looking good #want to say the classic 'Neos butt' clip was his work #and maybe some of the stuff leading up to the Impossible Victory scene

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stillm0nster · 5 months

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1 / 31 december writing challenge - holiday edition! ft. @foxmists. 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖 : surprise, long walk in the falling snow, snowball fight, laughter.

while the christmas spirit was enveloping everyone and everything, heedo was still struggling with coping with his new life. at least letting his friends help him has proved to have a positive effect because he was finally back to classes after a month of trying to come to terms with who he was now.

with the temperatures dropping rapidly, it was only normal for the first snow to arrive too. heedo found himself standing by the window in the hallway for a couple of minutes before his third class of the day started, watching the snowflakes dance around, a white veil already covering everything in sight. how beautiful! that was when he knew what he was doing tonight after his classes end.

time passed quickly and his classes ended earlier, giving him over an hour to get to aeri's campus and surprise her. rather than taking the bus, he walked, aware of the cold but not feeling any of it the way he used to. the frosty bite on his cheeks wasn't a big deal nor was his hands freezing. a simple beanie was enough of a camouflage too, keeping his hair from getting wet and messy rather than keeping him warm.

when her classes were finally over, he stood outside, waiting for her with a smile etched on his face. how long has it been already? way over a year since they first met but only recently made things official. " hey! " he raised his hand to catch her attention which definitely worked the way he intended it to. seeing that sparkle in her eyes, her bright smile! ah, that melted his heart. he loved her so much. his arms flew open and as if in an instant, she was snuggled in his embrace. " surprise! my classes ended early so i decided to come pick my girl up. " he said, now gazing down at her lovingly, booping her nose when she said he didn't have to do that. of course he had to!

after making sure she's not feeling cold ( asking at least ten times to clarify ), the two headed home. " how were classes today? " she asked, knowing that he was still struggling with his bloodlust and she was also aware of how disappointed he was that he had missed so many classes. she simply hated seeing him suffer but some things were beyond her control. " it was fun. i was able to read some stuff that i've missed and i feel like i'm finally catching up. " he said simply, the tonality of his voice being rather nonchalant.

their walk was so peaceful, with the snow falling and them having a small talk, discussing things they learned in class during the day. he loved hearing what she takes interest in and in return, aeri loved listening to him talk about science. by now, his arm was around her shoulders and she was leaning into him as they walked. " i remember hyemi saying she missed the snow so bad when she was overseas. the first year she came back here and it snowed, she ran outside and started making snow angels. " he remembered that as if it was yesterday because he ran out after her. with a cheeky grin, he pulled away from his girlfriend enough so he could trip her while they walk and catch her before she falls on the snow, eliciting a loud squeal from her in the process. " wanna make a snow angel too, baby? " he asked with a laugh. she whined out a no but ended up laughing when she was back on her feet, giving his shoulder a light punch. his actions must have sparked the mischievousness in her because the next thing he knew was a snowball almost hitting him in the face.

what followed was a snowball fight which continued for a while, the two running around and enjoying their time like little kids do during the first snow. it's the little things that make us the happiest. it all ended on good terms however, no winner or loser, just two happy grownup kids. the laughter leaving their lips, filling the space around them. heedo wished this could last F O R E V E R.

" let's head home now, baby. don’t want you catching a cold. " he expressed his worry but seeing her little pout made him roll his eyes playfully. he knew what it meant without her having to tell him! stepping closer to aeri, heedo leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. he could never get enough of her kisses. " love you. " he whispered when their lips parted.

#╰ ♡ . 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹 › ❪ december challenge '23 ❫ .#foxmists #╰ ♡ . 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 › ❪ heedo & aeri ❫ .#JHAFLSA i imagined it better but i couldn't put it into words #hope you like it bub!!<33

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cielrouge · 3 years

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YA SFF Books by Black Authors

A Song Below Water by Bethany C. Morrow: About the strength of black sisterhood set in Portland, OR, best friends Tavi and Effie discover their true supernatural identity when Effie starts being haunted by demons from her past, and Tavia accidentally lets out her magical siren voice during a police stop.

A Chorus Rises (A Song Below Water #2) by Bethany C. Morrow: Teen influencer Naema Bradshaw is an Eloko, a person who’s gifted with a song that woos anyone who hears it. Everyone loves her — well, until she's cast as the awful person who exposed Tavia’s secret siren powers. When a new, flourishing segment of Naema’s online supporters start targeting black girls, however, Naema must discover the true purpose of her magical voice.

A Song of Wraiths and Ruin by Roseanne A. Brown: Inspired by West African folklore in which a grieving crown princess, Karina, and a desperate refugee, Malik, find themselves on a collision course to murder each other, despite their growing attraction.

Akata Witch by Nnedi Okorafor: Sunny Nwazue, an American-born albino child of Nigerian parents, moves with her family back to Nigeria, where she learns that she has latent magical powers which she and three similarly gifted friends use to catch a serial killer.

Akata Warrior (Akata Witch #2) by Nnedi Okorafor: Now stronger, feistier, and a bit older, Sunny Nwazue, along with her friends from the the Leopard Society, travel through worlds, both visible and invisible, to the mysterious town of Osisi, where they fight in a climactic battle to save humanity.

Bad Witch Burning by Jessica Lewis: For fans of Us and The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina comes a witchy story full of black girl magic as one girl’s dark ability to summon the dead offers her a chance at a new life, while revealing to her an even darker future.

Beasts Made of Night by Tochi Onyebuchi: After he eats the sin of a royal, Taj, a talented aki, or sin-eater who consumes the guilt of others whose transgressions are exorcised from them by powerful but corrupt Mages, is drawn into a plot to destroy the city, and he must fight to save the princess he loves and his own life.

Beasts of Prey by Ayana Gray: Two Black teenagers, talented Beastkeeper Koffi and warrior-in-training Ekon, must trek into a magical jungle to take down an ancient creature menacing the city of Lkossa, before they become the hunted.

The Belles by Dhonielle Clayton: In the opulent world of Orléans, where Beauty is a commodity only a few control, Belle Camellia Beauregard will learn the dark secrets behind her powers, and rise up to change the world.

A Blade So Black by L.L. McKinney: A whimsical and butt-kicking Alice in Wonderland retelling featuring a black teen heroine who battles Nightmares in the dark and terrifying dream realm known as Wonderland.

Bleeding Violet by Dia Reeves: 16-year-old Hanna reunites with her estranged mother in an East Texas town that is haunted with doors to dimensions of the dead and protected by demon hunters called Mortmaine.

Blood Like Magic by Liselle Sambury: Set in near-future Toronto in which, after failing to come into her powers, 16-year-old Black witch Voya Thomas must choose between losing her family’s magic forever or murdering her first love.

The Bones of Ruin by Sarah Raughley: Set in Victorian England, African tightrope walker Iris cannot die; but soon gets drafted in the fight-to-the-death tournament of freaks where she learns the terrible truth of who and what she really is.

The Cost of Knowing by Brittney Morris: A gripping, evocative novel about Black teen Alex Rufus, who has the power to see into the future, and whose life turns upside down when he foresees his younger brother’s imminent death.

Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi: 17-year-old Zélie and companions journey to a mythic island seeking a chance to bring back magic to the land of Orïsha, in a fantasy world infused with the textures of West Africa.

Children of Virtue and Vengeance (Legacy of Orïsha #2) by Tomi Adeyemi: After battling the impossible, Zélie and Amari have finally succeeded in bringing magic back to the land of Orïsha. But with civil war looming on the horizon, Zélie finds herself at a breaking point: she must discover a way to bring the kingdom together or watch as Orïsha tears itself apart.

Cinderella Is Dead by Kalynn Bayron: 16-year-old Sophia would much rather marry Erin, her childhood best friend, than parade in front of suitors. At the ball, Sophia flees, hiding in Cinderella’s mausoleum. There, she meets Constance, the last known descendant of Cinderella and her step sisters. Together they vow to bring down the king once and for all.

Crown of Thunder (Beasts Made of Night #2) by Tochi Onyebuchi: Taj has escaped Kos, but Queen Karima will go to any means necessary--including using the most deadly magic--to track him down.

A Crown So Cursed (Nightmare Verse #3) by L.L. McKinney: Alice is ready to jump into battle when she learns that someone is building an army of Nightmares to attack the mortal world, before she learns of a personal connection to Wonderland.

Daughters of Jubilation by Kara Lee Corthron: In Jim Crow South, black teen Evalene Deschamps finds her place among a family of women gifted with magical abilities, known as jubilation - a gift passed down from generations of black women since the time of slavery.

Dread Nation by Justina Ireland: The Civil War is over, but mostly because the dead rose at Gettysburg—and then started rising everywhere else. Fighting the undead is a breeze for Jane McKenne, an Attendant, trained in both weaponry and etiquette to protect the well-to-do. But the fight for freedom? That’s a different story.

Deathless Divide (Dread Nation #2) by Justina Ireland: After the fall of Summerland, Jane McKeene hoped her life would get simpler. But nothing is easy when you’re a girl trained in putting down the restless dead, and a devastating loss on the road to Nicodermus has Jane questioning everything she thought she knew about surviving in 1880’s America.

A Dream So Dark (Nightmare Verse #2) by L.L. McKinney: Still reeling from her recent battle (and grounded until she graduates) Alice must cross the Veil to rescue her friends and stop the Black Knight once and for all in Wonderland.

Early Departures by Justin A. Reynolds: Jamal’s best friend Q is brought back to life after a freak accident … but they only have a short time together before he will die again. How can Jamal fix his friendship without the truth?

Fate of Flames by Sarah Raughley: Before they can save the world from the monstrous phantoms, four girls who have the power to control the classical elements: earth, air, fire, and water must first try to figure out how to work together.

For All Time by Shanna Miles: Tamar and Fayard, two Black teens, are fated to repeat their love story across hundreds of lifetimes, from 14th-century Mali to the distant future, as they struggle to break the cycle.

The Gilded Ones by Namina Forna: Inspired by the culture of West Africa, a feminist fantasy debut traces the experiences of 16-year-old Deka, who is invited to leave her discriminatory village to join the emperor’s army of near-immortal women warriors.

The Good Luck Girls by Charlotte Nicole Davis: The country of Arketta calls them Good Luck Girls--they know their luck is anything but. Sold to a "welcome house" as children and branded with cursed markings. When Clementine accidentally kills a man, the girls risk a dangerous escape to find freedom, justice, and revenge.

Kingdom of Souls by Rena Barron: Set in a West African-inspired fantasy kingdom, Arrah comes from a long line of powerful witchdoctors, yet fails at magic. When Arrah trade years off her life for magic to stop the Demon King from destroying the world—that is if it doesn’t kill her first.

Legacy of Light (The Effgies #3) by Sarah Raughley: After Saul’s strike on Oslo—one seemingly led by Maia herself—the Effigies’ reputation is in shambles. Belle has gone rogue, Chae Rin and Lake have disappeared, and the Sect is being dismantled and replaced by a terrifying new world order helmed by Blackwell. If the Effigies can’t put the pieces together soon, there may not be much left of the world they’ve fought so desperately to save.

Legendborn by Tracy Deonn: In this King Arthur retelling, Black teen Bree Matthews infiltrates a secret society of powerful magic wielders to find out the truth behind her mother’s untimely death.

Mem by Bethany C. Morrow: In alternate reality Montreal (1925), a young woman’s personality is the result of a startling experimental procedure, leaving her to struggle with the question of who she really is.

Miles Morales, Spider-Man by Jason Reynolds: But Miles Morales accidentally discovers a villainous teacher's plan to turn good kids bad, he will need to come to terms with his own destiny as the new Spider-man.

Oh My Gods by Alexandra Sheppard: Half-mortal teenager Helen Thomas goes to live with her father—who is Zeus, masquerading as a university professor—and must do her best to keep the family secret intact.

The Opposite of Always by Justin A. Reynolds: After falling for Kate, her unexpected death sends Jack back in time to the moment they first met, but he soon learns that his actions have consequences when someone else close to him dies.

Orleans by Sherri L. Smith: Set in a futuristic, hostile Orleans landscape, Fen de la Guerre must deliver her tribe leader's baby over the Wall into the Outer States before her blood becomes tainted with Delta Fever.

Nubia: Real One by L.L. McKinney & Robyn Smith: When Nubia’s best friend, Quisha, is threatened by a boy who thinks he owns the town, Nubia will risk it all—her safety, her home, and her crush on that cute kid in English class—to become the hero society tells her she isn’t.

A Phoenix First Must Burn: 16 Stories of Black Girl Magic, Resistance, and Hope edited by Patrice Caldwell: Filled with stories of love and betrayal, strength and resistance, this collection contains an array of complex and true-to-life characters in which you cannot help but see yourself reflected. Witches and scientists, sisters and lovers, priestesses and rebels.

This Poison Heart by Kalynn Bayron: In this contemporary fantasy inspired by The Secret Garden, Black teen Briseis has a gift: she can grow plants with a single touch. Up against a centuries-old curse and the deadliest plant on earth, Bri must harness her gift to protect herself and her family, when a nefarious group comes after her in search of a rare and dangerous immortality elixir.

A Psalm of Storm and Silence (A Song of Wraiths and Ruin #2) by Roseanne A. Brown: As the fabric holding Sonande together begins to tear, Malik and Karina once again find themselves torn between their duties and their desires.

A Queen of Gilded Horns (A River of Royal Blood #2) by Amanda Joy: After learning the truth of her heritage, Eva is on the run with her sister Isa as her captive, but with the Queendom of Myre on the brink of revolution, Eva and Isa must make peace with each other to save their kingdom.

Raybearer by Jordan Ifueko: In a West African-inspired empire, Tarisai is raised by The Lady and sent to kill the Crown Prince once she gains his trust. Tarisai won’t stand by and become someone’s pawn—but is she strong enough to choose a different path for herself?

Redemptor (Raybearer #2) by Jordan Ifueko: For the first time, an Empress Redemptor sits on Aritsar's throne. To appease the sinister spirits of the dead, Tarisai must now anoint a council of her own, coming into her full power as a Raybearer.

The Ravens by Danielle Page & Kass Morgan: The sisters of Kappu Rho Nu share a secret: they’re a coven of witches. For Vivi Deveraux, being one of Kappa Rho Nu’s Ravens means getting a chance to redefine herself. For Scarlett Winters, a bonafide Raven and daughter of a legacy Raven. When Vivi and Scarlett are paired as big and little for initiation, they find themselves sinking into the sinister world of blood oaths and betrayals.

Rebel Sisters (War Girls #2) by Tochi Onyebuchi: Though they are working toward common goals of helping those who suffered, Ify and Uzo are worlds apart. But when a mysterious virus breaks out among the children in the Space Colonies, their paths collide.

Reaper of Souls (Kingdom of Souls #2) by Rena Barron: After so many years yearning for the gift of magic, Arrah has the one thing she’s always wanted—at a terrible price. But the Demon King’s shadow looms closer than she thinks. And as Arrah struggles to unravel her connection to him, defeating him begins to seem more and more impossible.

A River of Royal Blood by Amanda Joy: A North African-inspired feminist fantasy in which two sisters, Eva and Isa must compete in a magical duel to the death for the right to inherit the queendom of Myre.

Slice of Cherry by Dia Reeves: In Portero, Texas, teens Kit and Fancy Cordelle, daughters of the infamous Bonesaw Killer, bring two boys with similar tendencies to a world of endless possibilities they have discovered behind a mysterious door.

Siege of Shadows (The Effigies #2) by Sarah Raughley: After Saul reappears with an army of soldiers with Effigy-like abilities, threatening to unleash the monstrous Phantoms, e-year-old Maia and the other Effigies hope to defeat him by discovering the source of their power over the four classical elements, but they are betrayed by the Sect and bogged down by questions about the previous Fire Effigy's murder.

The Sisters of Reckoning (The Good Luck Girls #2) by Charlotte Nicole Davis: The blockbuster sequel to an alternate Old West-set commercial fantasy adventure.

The Sound of Stars by Alechia Dow: Set in the near-future, in which a captive teen human and a young alien leader—bonded by their love of forbidden books and music—embark on a desperate road trip as they attempt to overturn alien rule and save humankind.

War Girls by Tochi Onyebuchi: Set in a futuristic, Black Panther-inspired Nigeria, sisters Onyii and Ify, separated by a devastating civil war, must fight their way back to each other against all odds.

Vessel by Sarah Beth Durst: When the goddess Bayla fails to take over Liyana's body, Liyana's people abandon her in the desert to find a more worthy vessel, but she soon meets Korbyn, who says the souls of seven deities have been stolen and he needs Liyana's help to find them.

The Weight of Stars by K. Ancrum: After a horrific accident brings loners Ryann and Alexandria together, Ryann learns that Alexandria's mother is an astronaut who volunteered for a one-way trip to the edge of the solar system.

White Smoke by Tiffany D. Jackson: Black teen Marigold and her blended family move into a newly renovated, picture-perfect home in a dilapidated Midwestern city, and are haunted by what she thinks are ghosts, but might be far worse.

Wings of Ebony by J. Elle: Black teen Rue, from a poor neighborhood who, after learning she is half-human, half-goddess, must embrace both sides of her heritage to unlock her magic and destroy the racist gods poisoning her neighborhood with violence, drugs, and crime.

Witches Steeped in Gold by Ciannon Thomas: In this Jamaican-inspired fantasy debut, two witches from enemy castes—one seeking power, and one seeking revenge—will stop at nothing to overthrow the witch queen, even if it means forming an alliance with each other and unleashing chaos on their island nation.

Within These Wicked Walls by Lauren Blackwood: An Ethiopian-inspired Jane Eyre retelling in which an unlicensed debtera, or exorcist, Andromeda, is hired to rid a castle of its dangerous curses, only to fall in love with Magnus Rochester, a boy whose life hangs in the balance.

Yesterday Is History by Kosoko Jackson: Black teen Andre Cobb undergoes a liver transplant and as a side effect winds up slipping through time from present-day Boston to 1969 NYC on the eve of the Stonewall riots, delivering a story that is part romance, part gay history, and part time-travel drama, exploring how far we have and haven't come.

#yalit #black authors #ya sff #black ya sff #booklr #book recs #book recommendations

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scarletslippers · 2 years

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Now the other man that holds space for Nancy is Carson.

Carson knows her better than anyone, and it really shows in their last conversation. It’s a nice contrast to her conversation with Ace, because as soon as he gives her the opening, “If there’s anything else...you need to talk about”, she starts crying. Here’s the space for her to be vulnerable right now.

She’s been walking around with the knowledge that she can’t have the man she loves, fighting to keep him alive and she’s about to crack. So when her father, whom she trusts so much, gives her an opening, she’s going to take it. Because she can’t talk about it with the one person she really wants to.

There’s also a whole parallel here to Nancy choosing Ace in 2x12, compared to choosing him here and then realizing she can’t selfishly prioritize him and them over the whole town and going back on her choice. Given his reaction in 2x12, if he knew the choice she’s making, I think he would be proud. (Cut to Nancy asking more than once, how many people died in the tidal wave.)

Its so much. She’s been carrying this alone, for a month, trying to preserve this gorgeous future she got to see for everyone else, even if her own piece of it is gone. “In order to save the town I gave up control of my fate. And I lied to the man that I love to save his life. And now I have to spend the rest of mine paying this terrible price.”

Now Nancy’s still grieving. Grieving Ace, grieving her future, grieving the honesty and openness her and Ace share. Because even if she had chosen Ace, if they had survived the veil opening, she would have been wracked with guilt. And at some point Ace would have asked and she would have told him. So she made the right choice, and now it’s going to haunt her forever.

She’s not in a place to problem solve yet. And Carson meets her where she is, trying to provide comfort, but he’s also not entirely sure what’s going on. “I’d say there’s so much in life we can’t control, but there’s so much we can. And sometimes things aren’t as bad as they seem.”

Which is kind of a platitude, right? But he doesn’t have much to go on. And while Nancy’s remark is clear to the audience, it’s not super clear to Carson. He doesn’t know that this is an ongoing lie. That this is a forever lie.

Until Nancy compares it to Kate. Carson still doesn’t have the facts, but he understands the gravity. And the first thing he does is explain to Nancy that even knowing the ending - which in hindsight he does, and which, in the present, Nancy does with Ace - it was still worth it to fight. “I don’t regret trying. And I don’t regret loving her, even if it meant having to lose her.” It was still worth it to love her.

Now he probably could have been a little more explicit, but this is Nancy. And she’s being pretty darn vulnerable right now. So if he comes out swinging with a well-meant you and Ace are meant to be together, or just go talk to him, it’s probably not going to go well.

Not to mention that Carson, as a lawyer, knows he’s not in possession of the facts here, so making an argument right now isn’t in his best interests, or Nancy’s. He doesn’t really know what he should be persuading Nancy of. All he knows is how to meet her in her grief. Which he didn’t used to be able to do. But now he does.

Nancy is the one to bring it up. She’s grappling with the idea of soulmates, because that’s very much what this is, her and Ace. The writers are calling them star-crossed, and they are. But it begs the question, if you lose your soulmate, what then? Shouldn’t that be it?

But maybe it’s not? Because she has this real, personal, example of soulmates in Carson and Kate to look to, to follow. Now, maybe Carson uses the term soulmate in more of its colloquial sense, as a connection, rather than Ace/Nancy’s we’re literally fated (and now we’re doomed). But it’s simple and personal and lovely, and it’s the road map Nancy has for love.

So after Carson talks about how worth it it loving Kate was, how she was his soulmate, he has to bring up the elephant in the room. Jean. Because he’s not living life alone. He’s trying to find happiness again. Nancy doesn’t explicitly ask, but it’s implied.

So he sticks to to the question she’s really asking - what does this mean for me? What does a future look like if it’s empty of love? How do you face a future, knowing you’re going to live it alone?

And this is his answer: “I choose to believe it is possible to live a good life, even without a soulmate.” Which is really beautiful advice to give your daughter, when she’s telling you she might have to lose how you lost. To tell her that life can still be full and beautiful after loss and grief.

It’s devastating to hear as a viewer, because obviously I do not want to imagine Nancy being happy after Ace dies. But for Nancy as a character in this moment with her father? This is what she needs to hear.

And again it’s Nancy that brings it up. “Maybe we get more than one?”

Is she already looking ahead for a replacement? No, obviously not. But for the girl who has been “alone her whole life”, who has been left time and time again by people dying, often because of her, she’s terrified. She’s terrified to live a life alone without Ace, dooming him to death because she loves him, and being forced to live with that crippling grief and guilt the rest of her life.

She’s not looking for a Plan B. She’s looking for a spark of hope.

And Carson gives to her. Nancy asks “Maybe we get more than one?” and Carson says “Yeah, maybe we get more than one.” It’s a quiet reassurance passed between them. It feels very much like Nancy reassuring Bess in 3x07 that “goodbye doesn’t mean you’re going to be alone.”

And when he says it, Nancy crumbles. She’s devastated at the prospect of it. At the idea that she will lose Ace, will be forced to face the world without him, and will have to look for happiness all over again. She’s afraid. And she’s looking for something. Some kind of reassurance that her life could still be good. That it could still be happy.

But Carson ends on the call to action. He’s assuaged her fears a bit, and now he’s reminding her of who she is — Yes, Nancy, if things fall apart, your life could still be happy. But you still need to fight. You are still in control and it’s not like you to roll over and just let things happen.

It’s a call to arms, to action, that reminder that “you control your own fate. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

And she’s going to do just that. The whole ending scene in the cemetery was my girl. Blue roadster, black beanie, flashlight. She’s been knocked down, but not out. She’s going to remind herself of who she is.

And it’s going to give her strength to fight for the man she loves. To fight for his life, and to fight for their future.

See Part 1 for how Ace will fight.

Thanks @flythesail for her contributions to the soulmate thoughts.

#my idiots in love are going to fight so hard #nace #nancy and ace #nancy drew cw #nancy drew spoilers #it's endgame baby #meta #my meta #i need a meta tag #my writing

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saphirered · 2 years

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Ceremony of Convenience (Wedding Day pt1.)

Summary:

As the child of an Archmage of the Cerberus Assembly your hand in marriage is offered to the Kryn Dynasty to secure a treaty. Your suitor to be is Essek Thelyss who might know more about you than he lets on…

A grand event at the Chantry of the Dawn, a veil as long as the isle to the altar, petals thrown at your feet, and the cheering of the many blessing your union; that’s what they expected of your wedding. You won’t get an event as such nor do you want one. If you really try to think about it you didn’t even consider ever getting married. Perhaps your father would have bartered you off to some high ranking noble within the Assembly be that to keep peace or for you to serve as a spy and topple whoever stands in his way. Though, never did you actually think marriage was in the cards for you; not with your father risking losing control over you. Control he’ll definitely lose with this match made. The thought alone reminiscing his outburst at the reveal of the Dynasty’s suitor for you, never grows old.

You know your father has a distaste for your suitor and though you can read between the lines to see that that distaste runs deeper than just reputation. Any enquiries as of why his opinions are set the way they are, and why the Martinet and Master Ikithon are more than pleased, have been shot down immediately. Apparently plenty of secrets are still to be revealed but you are patient and have confidence that should you fend for it, you will find out with time.

It has been a few weeks since the arrangement was completed and all terms and negotiations had come to an end. You have not seen nor spoken to your suitor, the Shadowhand since then, though that is nothing out of the ordinary. You’ve been trying to get some more information on the man in your free time but find little. Few have anything of worth on the Shadowhand, even fewer are willing to share despite your persuasive efforts. Nothing you didn’t already know; Essek Thelyss is a prodigy, even outside his own he’s highly praised, he is clever and quick-witted, persuasive when it suits him and it’s ill-advised to get on his bad side. He’s a powerful magic user, skilled and learned, bright of mind. He’s ambitious and some say he has a hint of arrogance to him but by what few accomplishments you’ve heard about, when you’ve earned the favour and praise of the Bright Queen herself like he has, the line between confidence and arrogance is thin.

In the mean time your training continued. Countless more hours spent at Castle Ungebroch studying, watching and learning like you needed any more of it, like it would do you any good but waste your time. When you were not at the castle, you’d be spending your time with the mages of the Assembly. Vess had taken it upon herself to persuade your father and Master Ikithon to take a few hours of your time every week to study artefacts, specifically the beacons. You’ve watched her read through that tome of hers she refuses to show to anyone else when she gives you a moment to research on your own. If you need your lessons with her to come to an early end, you simply need to ask the right questions and she’ll send you off. And the remaining hours of your days are spend with Master Ikithon and his Volstruckers. When you are not testing the limits of your capabilities in combat you’re at his mercy, the experiments having a deadline apparently.

But the last day has come around. No more surgical scars along your arms, no bruises from the beatings taken in training, no more broken and bloodied knuckles, no more ink staining your hands. You’d been pampered and prepared, servants sent by the king himself. A blessing some would say, though you know better. They’re only there as an assurance everything will be perfect before you’re pawned off to the Dynasty. That doesn’t mean you do not enjoy the lavish scents they pour in your bath, nor the soaps they clean your skin with, wash your hair with, fingers running through with a gentle care, making sure everything is perfect. If anything it’s quite enjoyable. All good things come to an end and so you’re prepared for the grand event.

Sitting in front of a vanity in nothing but your undergarments; the ones appropriate for the ceremonial garments you’re supposed to wear, the servants run around, applying products to your face, and body, styling your hair in the latest fashions, jewels of diamonds, sapphires and amethysts set in platinum and silvers like the stars in the night’s sky, adorn your neck, chest, ears, wrists, and even several pins throughout your hair. Once they’re satisfied you’re helped into your clothes for the day, the fabrics feel luxurious and comfortable, smooth against your skin with a nice weight and drape to them. Colors of anthracite, dark blue, purple and black detailed with intricate geometric designs of silver thread and crystals. If you thought the clothes the king had provided you before were lavish, this exceeds it by a thousand. It makes you feel regal, powerful even. You’re pleased.

The knock at the door signals you it’s time to go. You’re ready. It’s the Martinet that comes to retrieve you. Not your father as you had expected. You’re glad for it. The Martinet looks you over, a nod of approval and offers you his arm, guiding you along to where you’re to meet everyone else. A hand full of drow dressed in attire you can immediately identify as higher up Dynasty mages confer with the Martinet and he gives the nod of approval. Finally you see your father who takes your other side. Flanked by two archmages, followed by several Volstrucker and anyone deemed significant enough to have warranted an invitation, which is not many. Your father doesn’t speak, face remaining stoic but you can feel the discontent radiate from him. Not because you’re to be married off but solely for the fact who you’ll be married to. Good. Let him know how it feels to not get his way for once in his life.

Within a flash you’re off, leaving the capital of the Empire behind and trading it for a place wholly unfamiliar to you, and most if not everyone here. You find yourselves inside what you can only describe as a grand cathedral, tall paned glass windows depicting a story with the beacon’s you’ve grown so familiar with over the past months, even closer the past weeks. You never knew the true extend of how deep their worship of these things ran and know you shouldn’t be surprised but you are only slightly. It doesn’t show. Within the antechamber of this cathedral stand several people of the Dynasty, seemingly similar company to what traveled with you.

Skysybil Mirrim who you recognise from the negotiations addresses the crowd, welcoming the company, among some other theatrics you don’t care to pay attention to. You pretend you do as you’re guided towards the front of the crowd. There you spot the drow you’re to marry, floating a few inches above the ground, heavy mantle exchanged for fine fitted clothes, in similar colour palettes to your own, though the amount of jewellery he wears is much less compared to you. His pointed ears are adorned in cuffs and chains of silver, a multitude of rings encircle his fingers but other than that, the only thing that truly sets off against the rest of his garments are the fine platinum bracelets, or bracers more accurately as they curve up to just below his elbows, geometric in design you can identify some sigils arcane in nature. Pretty and practical, perhaps.

When Essek’s eyes fall on you he almost forgets the two mages flanking you. You look sufficiently radiant. Breathtaking even. You wear it well. He doesn’t know if you’re aware of it or not but you command the room. Your presence does not go unnoticed by anyone. To an extend, your sheer ability to exercise this level of control over a crowd frightens him, making him realise you might be your father’s child after all and consider he might be getting more than he bargained for. He might as well have let in a poisonous snake into the dark. But then you find your way to him, stopping in front of him and curtsy, a gesture he returns respectfully, the eyes of the crowd upon the both of you as the Skysybil’s speech comes to an end.

As is custom Essek offers his arm. You step away from your two guardians and take his with a smile that could have fooled the whole room, like someone happy to get the wedding of their dreams, as expected of you. You play your part well and in an instance you have the people wrapped around your finger because how could such a sweet and innocent creature have a single bad drop within them? To them you’re an oblivious fool at best, a sacrificial creature at worst. Yet you are neither, that much Essek is certain of. Should you prove your intentions, ulterior motives and loyalties to the Assembly, or lack thereof, this might be favourable to him after all. You’ll always remain a risk of course, a risk he’d be able to handle if he plays his cards right. This might be more than beneficial to the both of you.

The two of you are lead into the main cathedral by the high priestess, behind you follow the guests. The priestess steps onto the dais while Essek stops, so do you. The guests have flanked to both sides of the aisle. Essek feels the eyes of his mother burn into his back. He’s sure that if he looks over his shoulder he’ll see pride at her prodigal son for following his queen’s orders, mixed with a hint of disappointment he did not get the match she intended for him should he one day find it within himself to listen to her. Not that he ever would have. Let his brother play the politics of unions if his mother cares so much about a good match. That’s one thing he’s thankful for; Verin being stuck at Bazzoxan and regretfully having to miss his wedding. He doesn’t think he could handle the constant teasing, among other things.

The high priestess takes a box from the altar, opening it as she speaks in Undercommon. You understand of course, but pretend to play dumb. It’s some blessing by the Luxon that the light may look favourable upon you when you choose. From besides you your arm still looped through his, the Shadowhand mutters the translation under his breath. You appreciate the gesture. It’s quite considerate of him. A decent man indeed. The priestess calls you to step forward. Together you step onto the platform as a box is held out towards the both of you. The Shadowhand lets go of your arm. You’d been informed of this part. You’re supposed to pick rope or ribbons. The colours have different meanings. You’d been told you should pick gold, pink and white; the symbol of unity, love and happiness, truth, serenity and devotion.

You’re about to reach for the gold when a flash or emptiness runs through you, not frightening, not hollow but nurturing and peaceful. Before you know it your fingers reach for the grey spool. Balance and neutrality. You’re trying to figure out where it came from and share a brief look with the Shadowhand in confusion though he seems oblivious to what you just saw. He reaches out, hand hovering until he settles over the black spool; wisdom and ambition, you’ve been told. Another flash runs through you, this time your fingers reach for purple; power and healing. You do not dare look back knowing what you’ll find in the eyes of your father and the Martinet at your failure to complete this simple task. The Shadowhand reaches once more, silver this time; the symbol of ingenuity, magic and strength of mind.

Feeling something brush against your mind none too gently you’re surprised as the void pushes it away entirely when you’re about to let it through. You lose track for just a moment trying to figure out what happened and why. You’ve missed the high priestess putting the box away and returning with four ribbons cut to equal length. She holds one end of them together in her hand while offering the others to you and the Shadowhand. He takes the grey and purple while you take the remaining black and silver. The priestess speaks again, the Shadowhand offering a translation into common once more as he begins to weave the ribbons under and over, you following suit to braid them together until they are one.

The high priestess takes the newly braided ribbons from the both of you as Essek guides you another step closer to the altar. He turns to face you, you following his lead. He gathers you haven’t witnessed a union ceremony before the Luxon before and while you might have been informed about some things, participating in one is a whole other thing. He’s attended a few throughout his years but he’s ashamed to admit he’s spend perhaps too many hours researching the ceremony to make sure he gets it right and understands all. Essek didn’t expect you to reach for the colours you did, when you did and he has to say there might just be much more to you than meets the eye given by the faint spark of dunamis he felt from you when you chose.

“As bound by Light, so bound by the union you seek to tie. Do you accept the journey you must face together in this life?” The priestess speaks in common as Essek takes his right hand in yours, fingers wrapping around your wrist. Again you follow suit.

“May the Light lead us out of the smothering dark and guide our path.” You speak in unison.

“Do you promise to uphold the vow of balance and power?” The priestess asks the Shadowhand.

“I vow to preserve and to enlighten.” He answers and she wraps the braid around your hands once.

“Do you promise to uphold the vow of wisdom and blessings you share?” The priestess asks you.

“I vow to preserve and enlighten.” You repeat the Shadowhand’s words and the priestess wraps the braid around your hands once more.

“Then I bless this union in the name of the Luxon, in the name of their Light. May their blessing strengthen your vows and yourselves as from now on, you are one. May your light never falter.” Seven times more throughout her speech she wraps the braid around and ties the ends into a knot together. Upon the knot being tied the lights in the room dim, you can barely see a thing until stars wink into existence around where you and the Shadowhand stand. Like the constellations they move around the two of you. The priestess’ eyes widen for a second before she smiles and whispers another blessing under her breath. She removes the braid from around your hands, as the Shadowhand lets go of your wrist to allow her to do so. With that the ceremony is completed. The arcane lights return to their former brightness and the stars disappear.

#critical role x reader #mighty nein x reader #essek x reader #essek thelyss x reader #critrole x reader

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yandere-society · 3 years

Text

pjm | “carnal lechery”

pairing: yandere! vampire! jimin x novice nun! virgin! fem. reader

rating: M

genre: yandere au, supernatural (vampire) au, smut, angst

word count: 10.5K

Headline: Halloween Night Massacre; Police Baffled By Murdering Spree

warnings: yandere themes, dub con, angst, graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, oral (m.rec & f.rec), bonding, blindfolding, biting, loss of virginity, virginal blood worship, overstimulation, use of feathers and chains, mentions of blood, graphic descriptions of slaughtering, mentions of religious cults, mentions of christianity, mentions of sacrifices, gore.

synopsis: Attempts to precede his arrival made you ornery as he slipped like thin air from your fingers, even when you’d have him so close. You had almost ultimately fixated in your mind that you’d never know your secret admirer. Meanwhile— mysterious murders, disappearances and uproars about the return of the most fabled coven of vampires: ❛The Rouge❜ leads you to expect your imminent death. However, you do not expect the turn of events and the appearance of the one you’d been seeking for.

admin: @unfurlingtwinklingstar

It was one of those macabre mornings when you’d find an oh-so-familiar garland at your doorstep.

The very same kind of flowers that you’d prefer for decorating your little reading nook with, would lay wrapped in a delicate paper foil. The dew on its petals would appear golden as it would kiss the ray of dawn streaming through the porch of your fern-scented cottage.

A feverish shiver would run through your spine at the sight of a caramel-colored envelope right underneath the lavender foil in anticipation of what this letter would say about you.

It would be hard to persist the laden need to find the giver first when the lovely pink petals would almost frown at your resistance.

You cherished calla lilies. There wasn’t a day when they’d not sit on your vase with their trimmed stems soaked in lukewarm water, smiling as they bloom.

Every Friday, this was to be expected. Yet, you weren’t fully comfortable with the handwritten cursive that’d make your fingers slack at its message.

The meander cursive masked the obscene descriptions of your curves, the filth in the mind of the writer was impeccably reflected in the flow of the dark ink.

The first time you had gotten such a letter, you had a recurred session reading it with obscure scrutiny, only to find the title ‘Third youngest of the Rouge’ in the sender name column.

The letters had chanted your name like a prayer, it’d beckon for you to have a taste of the kind of pleasure that you were trying to celibate yourself from, the kind that’d be a sin to indulge in.

It made your body thrice warmer, your body blazed into a pretty rouge like the robes you wore during service hours in the church.

Eroticism and romance were taboo subjects to conventuals and canonesses at the convent of Volterra. Being a novice in service to the almighty, you were taught to be a holy carmelite, a slender benedictine, devoted especially to scholarship and liturgical worship.

But the intimate descriptions highlighted the black traces of sin in the depths of your soul as if the devil awaited his chance to stand erect and applaud in sheer satisfaction at the sight of your crumbling control.

Sucking in shaky breaths, you grab hold of the stirrer and kindle the crackling flames dancing in your fireplace.

Without a second thought, you toss the expensive pieces of poetry into the topaz flames and watch as the fire comes to life and blazes the parchment to ashes.

You were considered too much of a vestal to submit to this admirer of yours.

The choirs at the convent church were different compared to other choirs that didn’t sing hymns. Their voices were almost like the angels’, high notes soaring over the clouds, graceful notes dancing on the staves, they sang for the almighty only.

This was halloween at the monestery. Whilst the town wore spooky robes and went around sharing treats in exchange of spared tricks, you sang along with your fellow sisters, honouring the almighty and paying tribute to saint Marcus.

You sang along, keeping a low voice and swaying to the gentlest harmony in devotion. The stanzas are clutched to your heart and you cherish this moment when you feel the string between you and your god. You cannot fathom how satiated you feel. Your mind strays to your past, when you were under foster care.

You were a doting, little child despite how the other girls prayed for a future where they can possess expensive goods and glittery jewelry. You only kept away from their notions of want and sinful desires for pleasure even as you became an adult.

You chose to bake cookies, share blankets, study the Bible, smile and croon at the praises the church would give you, rather than read obscene novels and join the young woman of your age in subjects that were atrocious in the eyes of the holy.

Sister Siena walked you to your dwelling at the convent’s residence while she chattered about her moss garden and herbs that could treat flu. You listened quietly, letting out little nonchalant hums. Gardening wasn’t a subject of your interest and you were much more fatigued to feign enthusiasm.

“The halloween rituals might probably need an addition of prune juice, don’t you think?” she asks while you unlock the latch and walk into your home.

You let out a small smile and usher her in whilst nodding to everything in your surroundings. A little envelope peeks out from the gap between the floor and the hallway door, making your chest tighten at the realisation.

A letter from your mystery admirer was unforeseen and definitely unwelcome, especially in the presence of a fellow nun in your dwelling.

The attention of sister Siena is brought back at the sight of a cream-coloured envelope with a rather unfamiliar stamp on its surface.

Her olive eyes narrow to two slits and makes perspiration bead out and down your clavicle in fear. In the blink of an eye, the envelope’s seal is torn and the letter is perused by the chestnut haired female at once.

Her response however, gives you a cursory shock. Her lips turn into a smile and she stares up at you, eyes in awe as if she had witnessed the grand work of Caravaggio.

“You have an admirer”, she infers and you scour her face for signs of offense only, to find nil. She seems rather, glad.

“I— I usually burn them there” you point to your fireplace and her shoulders buckle in a brief fit of giggles, as if you had shared an anecdote.

“Who would pray to have a vestal nun? It is like counting the stars.” she mumbles into her mug of tea, eyes flickering from your face to the letter, absent-mindedly.

You shrug and get seated opposite to her, straining your eyes on the flickering flames that warms your numb, cold toes. You sigh in bliss at the tranquil frame of your nook and almost the next minute, your eyes flutter shut and you sink into the lulled sounds of the crackling fire.

Unbeknownst to you, the young nun seated at your opposite has her nerves ossified at the glimpse of the sender’s title. Comprehension of ‘third youngest of the rouge’ sends her mind into frenzy. Dismay sinks into her heart and makes it thud and toll like church bells at the realisation of the plight that you have been pulled into and she shudders.

Without so as to even a noise, the letter is slid into her crimson tunic and the envelope is thrown into the fire.

The coolness of the midnight is deceptive; the sun has barely risen and this altitude is always cooler. Siena’s destination is low down and deep into the interior, well away from the onshore winds. When she reaches, the heat of that region makes her compare the temperature to her kitchen’s, on a baking day— like a friendly warmth instead of the inferno it always is.

Her footsteps are ushered as the heels of her moccasins rap against the laid out cream carpet in dull thuds, her breathing is in a frenzy too for, hundreds of thoughts swarm in her head at once.

Siena is cold to the bone despite striding across the blazing heat of the deep, dim chambers of the three elderly canonesses, at the convent. The canonesses— head nuns are rather reserved and hostile about their roles in the society.

Before the 17th century, such chambers were often considered clandestine— precisely, before the battle of Tuscany. The battle held a significant place in history, for how saint Marcus and his veterans fought and impeded entire Tuscany off of sanguinarians— a term used to describe vampires.

The rise and fall of the most fabled coven of vampires was inscribed in the olden scriptures and was forgotten to tell tales about wizards and curses as of the present. Siena had studied about them at school.

The mere image of the counts brings shivers down the woman’s spine and she shudders as she holds onto the letter and walks, toward the canonesses’ chambers.

It is dark when she arrives; gnarled trees hung low over the baronial church, creaking ominously in the howling winds. The heavy oak doors broke open, echoing around the empty church.

The moonlight shone through the heavily cracked stained-glass windows, casting an eerie glow onto the dusty alter. Thick cobwebs hung on every surface and her footsteps sounded deafening on the cold stone floor.

Two elder ladies sit perched on their carpeted thrones with their veils over their heads and backs turned toward Siena. They hold hands in a circle and mutter chants to themselves.

Siena’s eyes capture the silent movements of their fingers and the incessant nods of their heads. She gently walks— almost stalks, until one of the elder canonesses perk at her arrival and seek her to sit with them.

The chamber walls radiate off its warmth and the conversation is lulled as Siena breathes out her concerns with utter respect, her expression remains composed despite her rapid breathing.

The canonesses nod with eyes widened at the size of fire lanterns, their fingers tremble slightly in comprehension of the magnitude of issue that the young nun had brought to them.

In the next hour, right on the death of halloween, nuns and monks are summoned from the monastery and a ceremony is held right in their place to seek peace once again.

The seven Rouge sanguinarians, the fabled coven of vampires have returned to Volterra.

The four canonesses sit in a circle and one of them draws a circled figure at their center. The symbol seems ominous to Siena, it seems almost like a satanic pentagram. A silver crucifix is fixed right at the junction of the chalked lines and the series of chants begin.

For almost a quarter of a hour, Siena sits— rooted and in the careful look-out for queer changes in the surroundings. The next minute, one of the canonesses jerk as if she had felt a foreign presence and collapses on the canoness next to her.

The chamber queerly begins getting chilled as the chants get more louder in unison. Whooshing noises of the wind soon fills the chamber and an eerie figure settles through the open window, making Siena freeze, petrified.

At the end of the hallway stands a slender yet, robust, almost surreal, young-looking man sheathed in a heavy, scarlet cloak. His eyes are shut, as if he is in deep thought, and once they open, they make Siena jump out of her seat in fear.

Skin almost translucent, a bloodless hue, reminiscent of cave dwelling creatures that never saw the light of day, as pale as the living dead, as pale as a corpse. His bleached skin was as white as a sheet of paper next to the sleeve of the black woolen sweater, his orbs seemed bloodshot, yet, they held a life of their own like the burning rouge of a ruby.

“Third youngest of the Rouge”, Siena hears a canoness announce, the latter’s voice seems both startled and in disbelief.

“Ann. Fancy seeing you there, you seem older than in our last meeting, don’t you agree?”, the young count seethes and takes steps toward the eldest of all the canonesses.

Siena stares at the duo, perplexed. The two seem to know each other like old acquaintances yet, their eyes hold an unexpressed rage that she does not fathom.

“I am afraid greetings will have to wait, Park. You and your brothers must be well aware of the treaty you have broken.” Ann almost hisses, stepping in front of the rest as if she is unafraid to emphasize her point.

The ethereal man quirks an eyebrow at Ann’s actions in disapproval yet, curls one side of his mouth in a smirk, eyes reflecting a certain devilish glint.

“Ah. You accursed humans never seem to learn, do you? Fifty years ago, we made a pact. For our coven to never be disturbed by you humans, in exchange for us to move our grounds”, he accentuates the words and sets his eyes on Siena, making the latter freeze.

“Twenty years ago, there was a lovely young woman with round orbs and curves more enrapturing than the meanders of Tuscany’s hills”,

At the mention, something turns in the face of Ann as it hardens like wilted musk. Park further continues walking and retracing his steps, eyes glued shut and jaws clenched in raw rage.

“She was bonded to one of the youngest counts and the war—” he pauses in his steps with his sculpted back turned toward the canonesses, as he stares blankly ahead, grieved.

“The war, it killed her. She lost her life, she died in vain. She was destroyed by her own race. The pact was shattered broken at that moment, that moment when the light left her bewitching eyes.” he croaks a bit, shoulders slacking as if the memory was his venom.

“She was innocent yet, she was killed. By your people.”

There’s a shadow casted in the slender man’s eyes and it was quite clear. The rage for revenge that was cloaked in it.

Even whilst his back was turned, his head seemed calculative of the canonesses’ immediate response. Ofcourse, humans never seemed to learn.

Ann’s eyes reflect death and almost the next second, she strides forward with the silver crucifix in her hand and tosses it at the empty black space where Park stood, moments before.

The next second, a heavy, red, mushy liquid is splattered onto Siena’s face as she screams and crawls toward the exit, horrified for her life.

The canonesses’ throats had been cut and they lay like butchered animals in a waste of blood. One corpse had slipped from the low throne to the right of the door and lay staring up at her, the mouth open, the head almost cleft from the body. She saw again the severed vessels, sticking like corrugated pipes through the clotted blood. The second was propped, ungainly as a rag doll, against the far wall. Her head had drooped forward and over her chest a great mat of blood had spread like a bib.

Tuscany’s most esteemed dignitaries of the church society lay like ghoulish mannequins, the esophagus and arteries sticking out like so much corrugated and rubber tubing. The smell that vapoured from their bodies could only come from slaughtered animals.

Thick, warm blood crawled into Siena’s throat and clawed at her air sacs like muck. Spewing with every glance at the mass slaughter, she struggled to wipe away the splutters of blood stuck to her skin and crawled on her limbs not any different from a five-sensed mutt, heaving and croaking for mercy.

Her pleadings for mercy fell upon deaf ears. When the bone of her ankle was seized to pull her toward the ghoulish young count, Siena thought the night would take away the last of her breath.

Her jaws were clasped in the count’s fingers and her eyes were a hair away from the orbs of death. The young count was sheathed by the moonlight in a silvery halo.

Without the traces of blood on his mouth, skin resembling the late winter and rage on his sculpted visage as red as his name, anyone could mistake the monster to be an angel.

His temper was on a hair-trigger and his eyes were lethal.

“You will run to the town’s mayor. If you want your soul to be spared, you will run there and shout to those mucks that the Rouge have returned”, the count spewed venom with each word.

“You will throw this parchment on their faces and demand that they comply to every syllable that’s scribed in the sheet!” he speaks, spelling out thunder claps and boulders at the poor nun.

“If not, Tuscany will have every breathing and crawling creature slaughtered like its canonesses”. He warns and whooshes away like smoke— ungraspable by bare hands.

Even in the wintry morning when town folks discussed the daily’s headlines with an uneasy settlement in their guts, you pursued boiling tea and folding your blankets neatly, unmindful of their great fear.

The afternoon too was eerily quiet and folks everywhere preferred to speak in a whisper and contain themselves in their abode. It seemed rather dubious and as heedless as you were, you never perceived that your innocence would lead to your downfall.

The sun sank lower in the sky, draining away the golden hue of the warm and gave path to a velvety dark night. The same moment when the crickets came out to chirp, dusky colours subdued in the fading light as shrieks and collective roars were heard at the heart of the town.

You, along with some of your fellow nuns peaked at the commotion and threaded through the crowd that swarmed in front of the Mayor’s office. On the board was a derogatory notice. Although, the crumples and rusty stains gave away the fact that the notice wasn’t pinned by the authorities. Its calligraphy looked eerily familiar to you.

“Tunic as red as our coven’s name, skin shining like beacon, tresses sheeny and burnished, eyes like the forest floor and gentle flowers with mirth, feminine curves softer and untouched like a laden bush of peony,”

The fear is a weight on the Mayor’s ribs and there exists a dull ache in his eyes, an unwillingness for his mouth to lift past neutral, to charge against but, words are lost in the hollow of his throat. Fear stills his lips as he pursues it to read out the rest.

“—The young vestal nun with a name that echoes across valleys of Tuscany, the one who dwells in the only fern-coated cottage near the gates of the lush forest.

Bring her to the place where human ritual pyres blaze, those who dare do otherwise, prepare to meet death as painful as a swine’s.

Against you rise, prepare to pay a deathly price.” he ends and mutters hurriedly in the commissioner’s ear and you notice the skeleton of his wrinkled fingers tremble at the slightest.

There’s a hushed eruption of conversations that bubbles ever so slowly amongst the townfolk at the astonishing notice and you freeze, petrified when eyes stray toward you, almost accusingly. You realise, with horror, they’ve recognised the vestal nun in the description.

You breathe heavily and your gut begins to twist into an uneasy coil when the commissioner’s fingers point directly at you.

Your desire to evaporate heedily rushes into your mind and something akin to being a criminal overwhelms you. When you step away to sprint far, you are seized by heavy men as they haul you off the earth by your limbs.

The thousand pair of ears at the town’s center fall deaf to your scattered pleadings— screams. Heartlessly, they drag you to the threads of your last few breaths and you helplessly submit, falling prey to your fatigue from the endless stream of tears that races down your rosy cheeks.

Your wails are unheard as the elder women of your town shield you from the public view, sit you in a warm creek and wash you in the clear stream, no different from a creature to be sacrificed for their religious rituals.

You croak out the last of your pleadings before the sun sets, and the women only watch you with nothing more than pity in their eyes.

Their hands are hurried as they strip you and dress you in the most rouge of all cloaks in the town, steam your hair dry, stain your lips with sliced beet, trace the lines where your lashes lie with charcoal.

Other than the sizzling charcoal that dries your tresses and your dull sobs, the creek is silent even as the herd of women stand together.

When you are sat and tied to the sacrifice stone, you shriek with more violence than gales. The ties that bound your limbs to the stone would not come loose at the desolate way you cried.

You sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until your throat closed on itself and you felt the heaviness on your eyelids. Fatigue beckoned you and you obeyed, submitting to it unconsciously.

The stillness of the air seemed to suck even the sound of the chain’s clanks when you moved your limbs into the nothingness of the cave. Even the trees seemed not to rustle as if they were tense with nerves for what was to come.

You jostled awake when the trees rustled and a strong wind blew from nowhere, chains rattling at your limbs’ sudden motion.

Trees stood naked as they had before, but their twigs curled in a distorted way, as if the tree itself screamed in pain.

The sky was a mass of grey cloud, again so ordinary for autumn, but instead of letting small shafts of light through they emitted an ethereal glow.

The wind was just as bitter as before, coming straight from the north, but the scent was something else, metallic almost, with a tinge of acrid burning.

The fire that kept you warm flicker, casting an ominous glow throughout the tunnel, causing shivers to ripple across your body. You drag your legs across the surface of the sacrifice stone, gathering yourself into a ball.

Wind streams through the tunnel, waking the bats in the cave, twirling them in the air, only to drop them off into the void. All signs of life vanish from the tunnels that were once so full of warmth and the fire becomes extinguished.

You peer as you stare at the mangled stone beneath you.

A heinous laugh echoes throughout the tunnel, rebounding off the crumpled walls, and you crawl closer to the wall in sorrow. Like the cave, your soul is too abandoned and then all fades to black.

You shut your eyes and sit, quivering in fright as footsteps echoed menacingly. There was a hoarse breathing heard dully and you began to hear your own whimpers.

At an unexpected chime of the hour, through the empty night, a gentle voice calls out your name.

Your arms tighten around your body and the curtain of your hair falls around your face, shielding your view of the silhouette growing in front of you.

“Tuscany’s most loveliest lily”, the voice shallows into a soothing whisper and a woody fragrance tickles your nostrils. Your mind ticks at the familiar syllables uttered out and something blossoms in you besides fear, your features contour into slight puzzlement.

“I climb so high, lost in the sensation, I succumb to the scent of the stream that runs in your veins”, you listen more closely.

“I cry out in pleasure, my body on fire, I cling to your scent, hunger feeding my desire”, by then, you are sure of the stanza. It was what licked your insides, it was what beckoned you to sin. The lines were your admirer’s.

Then, it pauses.

The voice is gone, so is the scent. You push your tresses off your eyes and cautiously look in the dead of the night that seemed alive a few moments prior.

Something creeks and rustles at the faintest— right behind your neck, causing its hair to stand. There’s something behind you. Or rather, someone.

Your eyes shut at the feeling of a cold breath tickling the locks of your hair. When a thick strand is pulled and a deep inhale is heard, you whip to find only emptiness.

There’s a few moments of listening to only your anxious breath and thuds of your breathing heart before a fine piece of silk is wrapped around your eyes.

You let out a startled scream at the sudden hindrance of your sight and the feeling of a glacial pair of brawny arms sheathing around your waist. A set of black dots disperse in your vision and your mind is lulled by a hushed, smooth voice into your ear.

“Found you, my little fawn”.

You regain consciousness in a dimly lit room, on a lush, oak-coloured duvet. With the movement of one leg the tell-tale clink of wine bottles rouses you and one blink of the eye tells you that your head is just as bad. You squint, dry mouth sticky with thick saliva and your legs are immediately pulled to your chest at the queer recognition of the place.

You feel as though you have lived a very long time in this colossal manor.

The Manor grew out of the manicured lawn like an infant castle. It’s nascent stone walls were a pale grey and were barren of the moss or ivy that clung to the walls of the older homes in the village. Its large oak door was double wide and was sheltered under a wide porch supported by stone pillars. The entry way was grandiose, sweeping into a wide circle in front of the dwelling with an ornate fountain in the center.

As seconds advance, your mind harks back to unfamiliar images in the same space— a young woman in an elegant frock chortling as she gets chased by a burly yet, slender man who looked youthful as well.

His laboriously chiseled face, cheekbones that had near pierced his flesh had led to sunken eyes, puddles of avarice set about them.

Dark hair covering his head, long and fragrant with rose thorns.His chin, one such extremity which sought to put his cheekbones to shame, it succeeded in its purchase to pierce its own flesh. A small scab could be seen about it’s exit, to which his hand tended to itch.

A thick, velvety cape traces his sturdy steps— chasing after the woman and you gasp when her face comes into your sight.

It is you.

Only, more alluring in the gown that hugs your— her curves. Her laugh is unceasing and sultry mostly, seductive.

Your eyes dilate when you see her unhitch the ties holding her robe to her curves and like a vixen, she steps out of it, lying back on the duvet, beckoning for the ethereal man to her.

He seemed ravenous, his irises iridescent as they turn from raven to crimson at the sight of the slick between her legs.

She seemed brazen, like a cur in heat, in need of flesh when she crawled upon the alluring man, rolling her hips into the air provocatively, she caused the balls of the man to get filled, none similar to your dainty facet.

She takes his girth into her lips, making the count seethe in pleasure, her tongue wrapping around its head, she makes him bellow like a buzzard when she takes him deep into her throat and teases his balls.

He looks feasted, satiated beyond syllables when she licks every inch of his hard wood and takes him to a state of druken stupor.

Your breathing comes out in strained huffs as you watch him take her— you as he presses his lips against her skin and utters words that make her keen and bawl in pleasure.

You watch as their naked flesh twist gracefully into one and something else begins to unravel in your memories.

Where there should be blank space is blank memories, like a soft beige wall bereft of photographs. It brushes through the subconscious, recalling memories that bring out the deepest spark of nostalgia of the soul.

You recall every single one of it, your eyes shut intuitively and you sink into a rather familiar abyss of lost memories. In it, you hold hands with the same man who appeared moments prior. Only now, you know his name.

The one who loved you past all the years that went like streams to the sea, in all your lives as a mortal.

“Soft. Your hands. Soft and warm - on my face, on my chest, in my dreams, in the umbrella of dawn, under the first streams of morning light. Your hands in the pitch black of night, muscles and tendons dancing between each other in a lover’s dance. Fingertips like matches grazing my skin with flame, our scars being the measure of our love. I bare my scars, because I remember the time when your flame danced on me forever, before your hands turned to ice.”

All of your admirer’s words make sense to you. The lost passion, the lost memories, the lost life of yours as the light left your eyes when humans attacked the manor you had peacefully lived in.

There was a deep cut in the skin of your neck from the shattered pieces of glass and a heavy cry escapes the throat of the man at the dreadful sight— you, on the Jimin’s thighs, in his arms as he cried for you to not leave him.

You had smiled and reached your hand to his cheeks, engulfed his lips in one last passionate kiss before your eyes shut on its own, soul departing your frail body.

You see him, your past lover begging for you to return, you see his brothers lifting you into your grave.

Shudders rack your body and your cheeks are wet when you open your eyes to the present, to find the shadowy, familiar presence sitting right across you, his arms prop his chin upright and his eyes drink you in.

Jimin steps from the shadows, stealing your breath and the heat from your skin. Suddenly your defences are just paper, paper that is being soaked by the rapidly falling briny drops.

Before you can draw in the air your body needs, you have melted into his form. You feel his firm torso and the heart that beats within. His hands fold around your back, drawing you in closer.

You feel your body shake, crying for the missed time the two of you will never make again, crying to release the woe of long years in separation.

He caresses your cheeks and wipes the tears with a calloused finger, even this roughness brings more relief than your heart can hold. He is eating you with his eyes, running his hand through your hair, as if he cannot quite fathom you are not part of an almost forgotten dream.

When he kisses you, it is sweet, gentle, and it tastes of your tears. You want to speak but all you can do is croak,

“Jimin”.

His mouth paints a soft smile and he kissed you once before folding you in his arms again.

“My beautiful peony, my little fawn, my love, my heart, my entire world. It was never your fault”, he mutters and you keen closer to him, pulling his mouth to yours once again. You close your eyes shut at the feeling of his tongue twisting with yours and your knees lose strength, sending you spiralling into his arms.

“Oh, how I missed having you close to me, seeing yet, not being able to ravish is a curse” he whispers and you feel the heat pooling in your core when he noses at your jugular and inhales your scent.

“The scent of your blood remains heavenly through the ages” he sings, arms digging further into the curve of your waist.

“And this musky arousal—”

You gasp when you feel the tips of his nimble fingers brush the crotch of your undergarment, relishing in the heat of your wetness.

“This time, I’ll have you breathing for eternity, little fawn. I’ll turn you into what I am”. He declares with a stern voice, consuming the breaths that escape your lungs.

When you stare into his crimson irises, you pray for his touch, beg for what he promises. “Claim me, my lord. I’ll spend an eternity in your arms. Touch me, make me yours”.

Surely, it would be yes. The count was a notorious rake and libertine. He was called a thorough and absolute rouge, true to his name. How could he possibly turn down the chance to debauch the most delicious little fawn tempting him to revel in her taste?

With one kiss, Jimin swooped you off the floor and completely into his arms, transporting back to the cave you were sacrificed in.

He had planned for the entire town to hear your wails of pleasure. When you felt and heard the rattling of chains around your limbs, you shrieked, startled.

“No need to be afraid, my lovely fawn. I only wish to show these mongrels who you belong to”. Jimin expounds, making your core clench in need.

“Touch me, my lord” you scrounged like a fox, coaxing the ravished count with the tantalizing motions of your hips.

“Disrobe for me, little fawn. Take that sheer robe off, I want your naked flesh”, Jimin snarls and his mouth waters when your dainty fingers scramble to untie your gown. You sputter, your cheeks flush a vivid red at his grimy words.

Fear. Nerves. And illicit, forbidden, wrong physical desire. You felt it all at once.

Jimin bent to you and pressed his lips to your neck. The oddest jolt of fire leapt from there. It rushed through your veins like flames licking at the sky.

His hair tickled the bones of your cheek as he stroked and hollowed his mouth along your throat and reached the rim of your ear. He brushed back your hair. Surprisingly, his breath was cool. Almost icy. You had heard women speak of men blowing their breath by their ears—something that hadn’t sounded at all enticing—but the maids had described warm breath. Jimin’s breath was cold.

Still, the brush of it did feel surprisingly … good.

He nibbled your ear, making shivers tumble down your spine. He stroked the exposed skin at your collarbones. Goodness, how could it feel so hot—like a candle’s flame flickering close to your skin?

He tugged your cowering hands away to expose the swell of your breasts. His body tightened with arousal at the sight of your full, generous curves, erection bucking against his stomach.

Pushing you on the boulder, he ravaged your mouth, letting his hands venture down to the cleft of your arse. You bucked at the foreign feeling, gasping at the feeling of his tongue suckling the soft flesh of your lips into his mouth. His tongue curls around yours and he suckles it too, making you melt into a puddle in his full hold.

His mouth traces your throat and when it ghosts over the curve of your breasts, you shudder and your skin breaks into goosebumps.

He suckled. God, you were delicious. And you were moving beneath him. You arched to press your breast to his mouth.

Your scent reached his nose. And, he was lost. Lost in want. He rolled over you, coaxed your legs apart with his, and settled between, caressing your sweet cunny all the while. You gasped at the feeling of his thumb rolling your pearl and whimpered when his middle finger found your entrance, dipping to revel in your slick insides.

Oh goodness, he had flicked that most sensitive place—the little bump that lay between your nether lips, and you almost rolled her eyes back into your head at the pleasure.

Your hips arched up. He stroked you a little harder, as if he had known the rocking of your hips was a wordless signal that meant: I am begging you for more.

Then he slid his finger inside you. Between your nether lips, parting them gently. Goodness, he was inside you. You were doing the most intimate thing possible. With the man who remained an enigmatic admirer in your mind until the touch of his fingers tainted your soul, with the man who held your heart for eternity.

“Open your eyes.”

The first things you saw were thick, velvet-soft black lashes and gorgeous crimson eyes. Eyes that glittered at you in the firelight. “I want your eyes on me” he ordered huskily.

Then his finger slid deep inside, and you gasped at the sudden sensation—an intense quiver that rushed through you. You heard a shocking wet, sucking sound as his finger thrust in and out. It was the sound of your arousal.

“Let your moans out, little fawn. I wish to hear your sweet voice” he coaxed.

Biting your lower lip, you whimpered. You didn’t want to speak. The pleasure his wizardry brought was fervent, it felt foreign yet, acutely compelling and delicious. It made you drool, you needed him, flesh, bone, heart, soul.

His hand moved and he stopped stroking the little nub that vibrated with such intense feeling. You gasped in frustration.

He wrapped his hand around the shaft of his erection—you could feel the brush of his fingers against your stomach as he took hold of himself. Then, with his hand tight around it, he stroked the head of his erection against your nether lips. They had stuck together, resisting him, but he gently eased them apart.

Your arms were splayed on the mangled boulder beneath you and your eyes appeared to have gotten a taste of heaven, hands clenched in tight fists, toes curled and digging into Jimin’s hips at his ease into you.

Deeper he went, and his manhood stroked a place inside you that made explosions of light in front of your eyes. Then a twinge of pain rushed through you and you gasped in shock.

His fingers traced the curve of your cheek. “Shh, my fawn” he whispered. “Easy. It will hurt when I go past your little maidenhead. But after that it will be very, very good.”

“Jimin—”

He thrust. You squealed. You clenched. You tightened. You wanted to back away. But you couldn’t vanish into the boulder. Nor could you push him off. There was a searing pain that burned the walls of your insides yet, the delicious stretch of his girth brushed the softest tissue that made your mouth open wide, soundlessly and expose your luscious throat for his mouth to marr.

Jimin’s lips suckled every inch the clammy flesh of your shoulders and breasts— until lilac bruises respired in its wake. The perked peaks of your breasts were soft and toothsome in his mouth. And the tiny heels of your palms digging into his chest felt euphoric, he wished for it to caress his veiny member instead.

His nose nudged into your sternum, imbibed the scent of rushing blood to your breasts. His eyes shut as he sniffed deeply, his fangs grew in length and a gravelly groan rumbled from his chest at the redolent aroma of your blood.

“You feel warm and soft, my delicious little fawn. I could forever inhale this toothsome stream running through your veins”.

Without stalling, Jimin enveloped the teat of your breast into his mouth and laved, before piercing his honed fangs into the soft flesh, guzzling at the divine, rouge liquid that leaked onto his pearly teeth and sharp tongue, making you hiss at the feeling.

The feeling was gut-wrenching at the onset, it made you scream into Jimin’s shoulders.

He pressed against you, seating himself all the way inside, and he didn’t move. He stayed motionless, and he rained kisses on your forehead, cheeks, lips. It was hard to feel pain with such glorious kisses stealing your breath. And little by little, the stinging sensation ebbed.

A few moments of incessant suckling and your strained huffs at the strokes of his tongue on your tormented peak unfolded a queer pleasure, obscure to be produced by human males.

Soon, each suckle and lave from Jimin’s mouth pulled you to the white, hazed edge of pleasure and you cried out in ecstasy. Your cheeks were riddled hot, body spasmodic, in graceful waves as you began to roll your hips.

You whispered, “More”, Then you saw his sculpted visage.

He looked starved, ravenous. He looked raw, ravaged, tormented. His eyes were wild. His mouth was a slash, bracketed by harsh lines. He looked as though his control could snap in a heartbeat.

“My lord?” you called for him.

“You are tight, sweet, and perfect, my fawn. So no, I am no longer all right.”

You let your arms slip from his neck, but your legs were still wrapped around him, and his groin, hot and hard, was pressed tight into you. Then came the gratifying wave of pleasure as Jimin rolled his hips into yours, his girth slipping in and out of you, wholly, fulfillingly.

Gods, he was huge. The thick, hot, pulsing hard muscle of his legs throbbed against your thigh. His big manhood twitched inside you— feeling as thick as your arm. He groaned, kissing you fiercely as he moved his hips and nudged his swollen head further inside, almost into your cervix. You cried out, feeling it pulsing into your drooling slit.

With a moan into his lips, you strained your thighs and allowed him to pound in and out of you, the thick, slick shaft of his cock sliding wetly out from between your lips as you groaned throatily.

“Have a screaming orgasm, little fawn.”

He circled his hips as he said it, stroking his long shaft within you. He planted one sweet, sensual kiss after another on your lips, and kept your gaze locked with his.

You watched a smile touch Jimin’s full, handsome mouth. Then groans deepened the lines framing his lips. His eyes glowed as if they were on fire, and his deep, throaty moans … You drink all of them.

You were weak with pleasure, yet driven to rock with him. You clung to him, arching your hips, panting. Your nipples had hardened, and each thrust brushed them against his chest. Lips tingling from kisses, breasts throbbing from swift brushes, your quim pulsed … and fire raged in you, hotter than fire and you screamed as you came, body spasmodic.

He held you as his lips slurped at the slop of blood from the punctured marks on the peaks of your breasts.

It is when he pulls out of your body, he turns. This time, his eyes travel below your navel and licks at your core. There’s a thin stream of his release that flows from within you and there is a whit of warmth that seeps along with it, making his stomach clench with carnal hunger.

Carnal lechery for your blood and the musk of your release, it blows like a breeze over him.

Your fragrance consisted of a scent that represented freshly cut timber, like the damp forest after a rainy day; you smelt heavenly, like fresh-scented pine and honey, he wanted to indulge in the depths of the hint of cinnamon-like musk it produced.

It is the blood that reflected your lost virginity, your lost innocence. You are no more vestal, he has made you sin.

In the depths of night, your eyes were dew, scattering the nascent rays, ever illuminating the dark in his soul and he lusted vigorously for the taste of you, to let him be consumed by everything you offer to give him.

And so, he chains your limbs again, and blinds your vision for the nonce, for your senses to get heightened, for your slick to stream like nectar from ambrosia.

You gasp quietly at the impairment of your vision.

His fingers pluck a pair of pampas grass fluttering in the wind and when you feel it caress the tiny puncture holes at your sensitive nipples, you whimper, your slick caressing Jimin’s chest.

His lips find purchase at your inner thighs, fangs shallowly sinking into the soft flesh. The feeling makes your toes curl and you croak his name out in pure bliss.

“How delicious, your scent is divine, my fawn” he growls and pulls your core to his nose with vigour while you attempt to slither away, shyly.

“Trying to escape my grasp is useless, little fawn” he warns, making you cry out at the feeling of his arctic breaths blowing over your sensitive core.

“I’ll catch you faster than the wind could sheath around you” he gutturally breathes and spreads you beneath him, holding your soft thighs in his metal hold.

He moved lower, his breath teasing over your thigh. And then, you felt it, and the moan of pure ecstasy tore from your lips.

Jimin’s hot, wet tongue delved between your lips, dragging slowly and wetly up every bit of you until it flicked across your aching clit. You moaned in pleasure, crying out as his powerful hands pushed your legs wide apart and his wicked tongue pushed deep between them.

With a moan, your eyes flew open to see his face hovering above your delicate and exposed core. His eyes glinted wickedly at you, and you watched, panting in pleasure as he slowly licked his lips clean.

“Like nectar,” he growled. “Lie back, little fawn. Lie back and let me taste you.”

He moved back in, and suddenly, you moaned loudly. The feeling was like nothing else you had ever felt — this perfect, electric feeling of his icy tongue teased over your lips and clit. His wide, strong tongue dragged up and down your pussy, making your whole body arch and tremble for him. You balled your fists and cried out into the flickering firelight of the cave.

He slid his tongue deep inside, spreading your lips with his fingers, dragging your sticky wetness up from your opening to slide electrically across your aching clit. You arched my back and cried out as his tongue made contact there. It curled at your bud, bringing whimpering mewling sounds to your lips before sliding down through your folds again. You stiffened, and then moaned as you felt that hot, wet tongue slide wickedly against the opening of your arse, making you gasp as it slid over the sensitive ring there.

You couldn’t believe the sensations flooding your body at the touch of this rough, powerful, demanding, gorgeous man — from the rouge who was gentle to a creature with hound-like lust for your dripping arousal and blood.

His tongue pushed against your opening, pushing in to curl sensually inside of you. His thumb moved to your clit, his growl rumbling through me as he teased your little bud and tongue-fucked your slippery core, making you clench and arch your back off the stone under you.

You screamed as the orgasm exploded through you, hips bucking against Jimin’s perfect mouth. Your core clenched at the invading tongue, spasming around its thick wetness while the orgasm ripped through me. The famished count hungrily growled and pushed his tongue deep inside, tasting all of your virginal blood as the aftershocks exploded through you.

Slowly, he pulled away, his lips trailing over the little seam of your inner thigh as your whole world spun under you.

The feathery leaves of the pampas grass caressed the seams following his mouth and you felt his arms lifting you onto his lap, straddling him. He gently entered you again, mouth tracing the prominent vein at your jugular, tongue teasing it.

You shook and rippled around his thick wood, chains rattling loudly as you bite at every inch of his skin that your mouth could reach.

“I am going to turn you, my sweet fawn. Tonight is perfect, the moon is hidden and the branches sing for us. Let it all out, scream my name” they are incessant breaths against your jugular and you clench around him, hearing him cry out his devotion for you.

“I am ready, my lord. Turn me, I— I belong to you!” you cry out as the tip of his girth brushes your most sensitive spot.

Then the whooshing wind caresses your bare bodies, you feel the chains loosen and fall to the ground while Jimin embraces your shaking body entirely, increasing the pace of his inhuman thrusts.

His mouth takes yours and swallows your pleasured pants, yours tongue mulls his own when he feels your fingers thread through his soft locks and dig into his scalp. His hold on your hips are deathly and when he feels you clench and pant harder, he bites into the inside of his cheeks, closing his eyes as his blood trickles from his mouth, into yours.

Your throat closes at the repulsive, metallic taste and you gag, making Jimin tighten his hold on you. He twists your tongues together and urges you on, making you swallow down the thick drops of his blood.

When you feel his member caressing that sensitive spot of your insides once again, you gulp faster and Jimin smiles blissfully into your mouth as his tongue traces the sharp lines of your protruding canines, they course rapidly into pointy knives and he relishes in the sharpness of your fangs, tongue drinking your breaths in.

There’s an ethereal glow of light sheathing around the two of you. For a nonce, the bright, golden-silvery stratum panelling over you in particular makes the deep, dark abyss of the night seem like day. The round curves of your orbs sparkle an aurish dust and makes you look more beguiling than any other supernatural power to ever exist.

Jimin feels the illuminance and shuts his eyes in ecstasy for the warm streams of your blood chills into familiar ice, the same temperature as his. Your thrusts are gentled and you cry out in a new found lust for Jimin’s blood.

He can feel the urgency in your gulps as you grow more hungry for blood, his blood. He shudders when you sink onto him again, tilting his head to pierce your fangs into his throat.

He groans at the pleasurable feeling of your mouth gulping his blood hungrily and he forces you to pause, for his eyes to drink in the birth of your vampiric form.

The moment you open your eyes and stare into his, his breath catches.

Your orbs are a beautiful, fierce topaz-crimson and there is a bleached tone added to the luscious sheen of your skin, when you lick the drops of his blood from your lips, exposing the knives of your fangs, he feels the carnal lechery for you boil in his heart and stir at his manhood.

You are fully turned, looking like the goddess of death herself, veiled in an ethereal halo in the deep, dark, inked night.

His eyes drink your appearance ravenously and he concludes. Carnal lechery for you, that’s what possessed him all those years ago, that’s what drives him to sink his fangs into your flesh and drink your sweet blood over and over.

You are turned and you are eternally bonded to him, there’ll be no mongrel mortal in this universe to take you away from him.

Autumn days wane toward the inevitable colder weather ahead, each nightfall coming sooner that the one before.

Seven days were gone ever since you were welcomed and brought to the Rouge’s dwelling, the rocky fort miles away from your grim, little mossy town.

Topaz leaves dangled from the shadowy skeletons of trees, each one like as ominous sword of Damocles. The river was almost ice, showing reflections of the heavy, ashy sky so thick. The chill breeze rattling at the closed windows of the fort seemed to cry autumn, the roads were moist with stealthy dew as the season deepens their graceful boughs will be the prettiest of charcoal sketches, drawing themselves tall, reflecting the light of a wintry sun.

You are huddled in the silky red sheets of Jimin’s large duvety mattress, the lines of your naked legs traced by the sheets. You lie fatigued after a thorough session of lovemaking with your mate while he wordlessly caresses your hair, eyeing your curves, breathing the essence of your hair as he licks the remains of your dried blood from your breasts.

The sudden slam of the door came like a punctuation. There were panicked calls all around in the veranda and one of the maids peek their head through the door to the master chamber, her chest rising and falling in urgency.

“Forgive me for barging in, master and mistress”, she breathlessly bows, making you both rise, startled. You scatter to cover your body with the sheets while Jimin groans and ties his night robes to shield his body.

“Master, we seem to have an intruder. The other masters summoned you to the court immediately”, she keeps her eyes low and Jimin barks at her.

“How would we have an intruder? This fort is well protected!” he grunts and turns to you, placing a soft kiss on your lips as you eye the maid scurrying away, bowed.

“I’ll be right back, my love. You might as well get dressed".

You smile and pull on your silky night robes to your body, mindlessly staring at the creaking trees in the wind while Jimin marches to the veranda, his booming commands slowly ebbing away.

For a few ticks of chime, you hear nothing but the rustling leaves, sparrows chirping at a distance and the echoes of voices downstairs. When the door to the chamber you lie in opens on the spur of the serene moment, you fall back and onto your elbows, on the cottony patchwork of the carpeted floor.

A loud gasp knocks your lungs at the sight of the familiar fern-eyed, thick woman looming over you, offering her hand.

Siena. She is puffing out harsh breaths and her legs tremble, hasten. She seems too afraid as her eyes cavort to the door in trepidation and you realise, she is the intruder.

“Y/N! Y/N. You should listen to me, you should run away, the one you are with is a monster!” she hastily whispers, gripping at your arm.

You yawp at her gnawing grip and attempt to pull your arm to yourself and grit your teeth. At the sight of your crimson eyes, Siena’s hold gets loosened.

“H—he turned you, didn’t he?” she utters in shock, something in her eyes clutches at her back again and she pleads you again. You sigh and move to the chamber’s doors, pulling the latch to lock and you turn to face her.

“I am sorry sister Siena, but I must ask you to leave. History does not tell the truth. The Rouge were innocent, it was the people who broke the treaty”.

You eye her pitifully. She had come all the way for vain.

“Jimin is by nature of laws, my soulmate. I cannot live apart from him, I am no longer one of the mortals”. You proclaim, clasping your fingers together.

“Now, please leave—”

“I am afraid you do not know everything” mumbles Siena quietly, her olive eyes swimming in a stream of exigency, her limbs still tremble.

“Who has Park claimed to have murdered you in the past, Y/N?”

The will to not let her affect your resolution faintly faltered at the sight of her tenacity, she shakes similar to a leaf jostled by storm gales yet, her eyes remain adamant.

“Tell me, please”, she begs to the extremity of crumbling, her orbs trembling just as much as her limbs do.

You release the air from your lungs and mutter softly— “Humans. The ancestors of our town. I saw it, the evocation of my past self, I was killed by the town folks”.

Siena shook her head, her face contouring into a brew of disdain as well as pity, you were almost uncertain if it was aimed towards you.

The whooshing gales and Siena’s voice seem the same when she mutters out what earth had not devised itself ready to hear.

“No, my dear. It was not the town folks who had killed you, it was the very man you share this bed with, the most conniving, astute count amongst his brothers— Park Jimin of the Rouge!”

And in that light the carpet of leaves became crooked, and all aurish colours vanished, the wind tumbling around the empty space. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest and your face morphed into one of disdain, you were abhorred yet, shattered to the ground like the dry twigs stepped on by passing carts.

You knew nuns took an oath to preserve and authentic despite the unembellished life they lead because you were one too. Siena was not lying, every single word of hers proves to be true only by the contours of concern etched on her face.

“H-how? I—” you flounder like a fish taken out of the pond.

Siena sighs dismally. “When I went to the elder canonesses on halloween night, the eldest of them apprised a hidden tale of a young town girl and her lover— Hyun woo whose throats were silt by the third youngest of the Rouge”,

“Only sister Ann knew the story behind it”. You listened carefully, feeling prostrated mercilessly.

“Park Jimin had found his consort and by the scent of her blood, he knew she was destined to be bonded to him by nature’s law. But, she was irrevocably in love with another mortal to whom she had been having love affairs with, even as she was taken against her will to the Rouge fort”,

“An infuriated Park had butchered the young woman’s lover in front of her whilst the woman pleaded and cried for the man’s life. As days passed, Jimin’s consort became coldly vacant in grief",

You were turned into stone at her words.

“She had ultimately repudiated to consummate their bond. The same night when Jimin had killed her to erase the memories of her lover, the town folks declared a war to avenge Hyun woo and rescue the young woman. Park Jimin had promulgated to his brothers that the woman was killed by humans, he must have recast your past self’s memories, Y/N! He is not the gentle lover you loyally surmise him to be!”

One time when you were blind in a tree, waiting motionless for wind to wander by, you dozed off and fell ten feet to the ground, landing on your back. It was as if the impact had knocked every wisp of air from your lungs, and you lay there struggling to inhale, to exhale, to do anything.

That was how you felt at the moment, your ribs felt crushed into a mere refuse, fear and disgust of your past killer’s touch burned everywhere, the faded puncture marks on the peaks of your breasts, thighs, neck, shoulders felt as if touched by the flicks of flame, you felt abhorred.

Even the loud rap of knocks and thuds on the door to the chambers were heard, you were frozen into ice. Eyes teary, vision blurred, you fell to the ground, crestfallen.

Siena shakes you harder in panic at the sight of the door’s latch rattling violently, the sundry of voices with Jimin’s voice rack unpleasant shudders through her spine as she attempts to resuscitate you to the present.

A single squawk like a squall causes the doors to shatter as if hurled to the ground by a tempest. Park Jimin stands sited at the other side. There is not a sliver of a plinth to hold his rage in place, he looks irked to the brim of extremes.

“Seize her!” he barks and by the tick of a second, Siena is hefted into the air by a couple guards, their grasps cause her to bawl in pain.

“Y/N! My dear, what did she do to you?“ Jimin’s voice is mellowy as he gathers you into his arms, perusing your form thoroughly.

Like the mountain river under sunlight, like snow melting under the beaming sunlight, like the gentle song of the topaz leaves swaying in the autumn breeze, his voice was pleasant as beautiful as his perfectly sculpted face.

You shake away weakly from his grasp and his face withers, twinging a deep cut into your heart.

“You cold-blooded murderer, let her free”. You mutter, abhorred and stare at him, as empty as the ocean at night.

Jimin peruses Siena and you wordlessly, taken aback by your sudden disgust. When you see his head lift and lips curl to one side, you see the once loving mate of yours turn into the callous, blood-thirsty hound of a creature that slaughtered so many lives for its own illiberal gain.

“I see my little fawn has discovered the truth”, he heinously chuckles, making you swallow down in utter disgust.

“It was worth the effort, was it not?” he perches himself on his lush seater loftily, a wicked grin stretches his lips at Siena’s struggles.

“Now that I have the maiden of my dreams to myself”, he wickedly whispers, his sharp eyes travel down your body as he slips his lower lip into his mouth.

“I can debauch her to my heart’s content” his eyes are demanding as they meet yours, his slender fingers tipping against the mahogany handle of his seater.

“What causes you to think I would submit to you?” you spew the words like venom as the haughty count feigns hurt, crumbling to the ground.

In a blink of an eye, Jimin whooshes at an inhuman pace across the chamber to you, gripping your jaws tight from the behind as he has his own clenched. Your wrists are pressed together at your back and he presses his chest to your back.

You attempt to wriggle away at the bulge pressing into the cleft of your arse and you screech at his hold.

“What can be done by a little fawn like you, against me? There is a reason why I did not wait even for an hour to turn you that night”. He lilts mockingly, lips brushing the lobe of your ear.

“Oh, little fawn. I had become the master of your body, soul and mind duly after turning you. Every single thought that runs in this little head, I can hear it”. He declares, arms slithering around your body in a vice-like grip.

“After decades of longing, I finally had you. Would I not have prepared for the same mistake to never occur again?” he presses his nose to your jugular, breathing your scent. It makes him roll his eyes in pleasure as the heavenly scent tickles his lungs.

Your fighting limbs fall limp as his fangs pierces the skin of your jugular, taking little gulps of your sweet blood.

Siena screams as she realises the actions performed on you by the count. She seethes and cusses, fighting against the guards’ hold on her.

“Forget everything that makes me bad in your eyes, little fawn”, Jimin whispers pleasantly, making you fall into a lull of sleep with a soft hum.

“Only I am your love, only I am your lord, no other mongrel of a mortal owns you, forget it all, my one and only little fawn”, he sings soothingly, lifting you in his arms more delicate than a priceless treasure, cooing in adoration at the sight of your angelic face in peace and parted lips, memories flitting you away from him washed away profoundly.

In the course of a mo, Siena’s head is snapped and the poor nun’s body is embedded into the fertile earth heedlessly.

A famished count with an endless carnal lechery presses a soft kiss to your lips and envelopes you in a lover’s embrace, waiting for your eyes to open and say his name sweetly, oblivious to events that have unfolded a very few chimes ago.

Carnal lechery, it was what possessed him to possess you.

#bts yandere #bts yandere smut #yandere bts smut #bts yandere au #yandere jimin x reader #yandere jimin smuts #jimin smuts #bts smut #bts jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x reader

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

coin flip I — jhs

Plot: A trained spy and assassin has to choose between his power-hungry brother and the benevolent Queen he’s falling in love with.

Pairing(s): Butler/Spy!Hoseok x Queen!OC (Name: Rosyne)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 10k

Genre: Royal | Angst | Smut

Tags & Warnings: angst, nudity, explicit smut, pregnancy, hidden pregnancy, violence, minor character death

Authors Note: fiNALLy managed to get some time to repost fics again. I know a few people really wanted this back so I hope you like it!

The scene in between these ‘ ***** ’ are flashbacks.

Kingdom of Wisteria took down their bright lavenders and hydrangeas, replacing them with wilted flowers to mourn the death of King Eirin. Instead of the vast streets of purples onlookers now welcomed browns and ash from the scared fires to send the royal spirit off to his rightful place in the afterlife. Though even with all these ceremonies, one question always swirled in the peoples’ minds whenever a leader died. When will the heir take her throne?

Rosyne has her legs hidden under her long, black dress as she sits on the cold wooden floors of the throne room. The black veil still over her head creating a safety blanket from the world. White handkerchief crumpled in her hand had light stains of pink from her makeup while the empty deep purple velvet throne towers over her even though it was a few feet away. “He left me too quickly.” She sniffles. “I don’t even know what happens in a coronation.”

Behind her stood the crown princess’ trusted butler and close advisor, Hoseok, hands clasps together as he watches her break down in front of him. “It’s just formalizing what you’ve already been doing.”

She scoffs lightly. “And what’s that?”

“Being a leader. You were a kind and just princess. All that’s changed is the title.” Hoseok raises his shoulders.

Puffy, teared out eyes stare up at the throne again feeling her head ache just by looking at all the history. All the responsibility riddled in that piece of jewellery. “A Queen has to be more than kind and just. She has to be—brutal but passive. Fearful but loved.” Rosyne couldn’t help but wince at the confusion of it all, eyes closing to calm herself down.

Letting out a defeated sigh, Hoseok takes a few steps forward and sits down on the floor right next to her until their shoulders press against each other. “That’s why Royals have councils. To ensure you’re making the right decision.” He lowers his voice to a soft tone, leaning in, a light scent of rose lingering from her clothing. “Right now, the kingdom is vulnerable and it needs a leader more than any time ever.”

“That’s not making me feel better.”

“Well…I’ll be there by your side if that helps.” Hoseok presses his palm on the floor just behind her so he could close more distance between them. “Does that feel better?”

Rosyne turns her head causing their noses to brush despite the veil between them. “A little.” She smiles albeit with a tad bit of exhaustion.

Expression softening, Hoseok gently tugs at the veil to push it over her head so he could see her face properly. The corners of his lips stretches into a grin. It was strange to be this close to one another in the throne room of all places when their usual locations were her bedroom or her private quarters deep in the garden. A sense of adrenaline and freedom rushes through him. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss on her lips, brief but it still warmed his entire body being able to touch her so freely.

Whatever nerves twisted under Rosynes’ skin quickly melted as their lips touched. “I need to find new allies.” She mutters almost in a whisper due to their close proximity. “Wisteria might not be in trouble right now but news would have spread that a new inexperienced royal is on the throne.” Her gaze moves to face the throne again but Hoseok keeps his on the crown princess.

“Where are you thinking?”

Rosyne shakes her head slowly, taking a deep breath. “It’s hard to tell. No one’s reached or contacted the kingdom yet.”

Hoseok brushes away the loose strands from her face, tracing the back of his fingers down her temple. “We’ll figure it out as we go.” Fingers sneaks behind her neck as he took advantage of their lonesome and pulled her in for another kiss.

Unfortunately he spoke far too soon when the double doors of the throne room thud open. The pair immediately detach prematurely and shift away from one another so they sat at a decent distance.

“Your Majesty…”

Rosyne looks over her shoulder and sees Kiku who had her hair in a neat bun, black gloves and physicians robe. “What is it?”

“Are you ready to give a private farewell?”

It didn’t dawn on her that she had to face him again and say goodbye. Finally coming to terms that it was her turn to take over the kingdom. Whether that was an exciting moment or a terrifying moment was still up for debate.

Moonlight peeks through the trees, light mist forming from the cold as Hoseok tightens his grip on the thick cloak adorning his body. Curling his palms he blew hot air onto the skin trying to keep himself from freezing to death. If he could just go back and sleep again, feeling Rosynes’ warmth against him while her breathing soothed him back to relaxation.

Can’t think about that. Not here.

Padding deeper into the forest, the trees starts to thin out and he catches the grey stone hugged by green vines and moss. The ground beneath looked like it used to be a gorgeous floor but now the soil consumed back to its original state. Or least a broken type of it. Once in a time, this used to be a majestic palace. But nature takes everything that dies and renews with its own beauty.

Rosyne would love a place like this. She would want to plant flowers in the soil and turn into a garden for people to admire. She was good at it. Bringing more light into something that was broken.

Much to his discontent, Hoseok had to push down those warm thoughts when he saw the three cloaked figures standing in the middle of the former hall. As soon as they heard the twigs crunch, their bodies turn to face him.

“What’s the news?” Namjoon, standing in the middle speaks.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Hoseok retorts.

Namjoon didn’t look all too happy about the response so all the male could do was sigh and dive back into professionalism.

“The King is officially dead. Rosyne will be taking the throne soon.” He doesn’t keep any emotion in his voice. Almost like a tranquil creature unable to feel but only take orders and provide information.

“But?”

“But she will be looking for allies.”

“Not a bad decision.” Namjoon nods to himself. “Not a good one either.”

“The kingdom is always the most vulnerable when royals are moving from one to another.” Hoseok wanted to leave. He wished he could run away right now and warn Rosyne but he felt a heaviness on his shoulders keeping him grounded.

“Especially with a soft Queen like Rosyne.”

Hoseoks’ expression hardened. “We shouldn’t mistake kindness for softness. It can be powerful tool.”

“That’s why your influence on her is so important.” He walks forward and holds onto his shoulders, squeezes it gently. “The way she dotes on you and your opinion will come in very handy, Hoseok. Bonus now that you’ve bedded her already.”

“I didn’t bed her for that purpose.” His gaze burned into the male.

“Of course you didn’t.” Namjoon chuckles. “But it still happened and now she has a connection to you.”

“Perhaps we should not speak of the Queen in this manner.” Seokjin speaks up from the right, looking a little concerned at how loosely Rosyne is being spoken of. Something Hoseok always admired about their oldest brother.

Namjoon only grins in response clearly not taking the warning seriously by any means. “Alright, I’ll stop.” He speaks as he glances over his shoulder before facing Hoseok again. “You’ve done well, my friend. Be ready for our arrival.”

Friend sounds a lot like puppet when Namjoon speaks it to him. Not that Hoseok could be angry at it. It was the truth. He was his damn puppet.

“I’ll be ready.” Hoseok lies one more time.

*****

Tiptoeing through the wet ground, he tries to avoid the twigs and dry leaves as best as he could. Hoseoks’ hair was damp, matted to his temples and his breathing, calm and patterned to his control. Eyes fixates on the majestic creature. Golden pelt with transparent antlers gleaming against the sunlight and forming rainbow patterns. It really was pretty.

His stomach then rumbled violently, twisting and reminding that it wasn’t that pretty. Pretty things always faded in time. Hunger didn’t. So Hoseok pulls on the tight string until it reaches just under his eye. Closing one of them, he manages to perfect his aim. Heartbeat slowed to his command.

Waiting.

Waiting for the right moment.

The creatures’ head shoots up, lilac eyes fixates on their hunter. Almost as if it knows that it is time to die. Circle of life.

“Stop! Don’t!” A high, shrill voice echoes through the trees immediately startling the deer.

Hoseok pushes the bow back watching a figure standing before him, shielding the creature as it ran off deep into the forest. He watches it hopelessly disappear amongst the trees. His stomach rumbles to the point of pain. “Thanks a lot.” He groans.

“You can’t just kill a gold deer.” The voice now moves to something soft and smooth. Like silk underneath his fingers.

Hoseok eyes finally focuses on the figure, his tongue almost clips. Long, beautiful brunette hair with deep violet eyes. A waft of lavender radiating from her body giving him some kind of warmth in his chest while her lips, so soft looking and pink tinted. “I do if I need to eat.” He replies albeit with less annoyance.

“Gold deer’s are very rare…” The beautiful lady speaks again with a patient tone. “…almost extinct.”

“So?” Why did he feel so goddamn bad saying that?

“So they are part of this forest’s ecosystem we can’t kill them.”

“I’m still hungry.”

She sighs, reaching into her brown satchel and pulling a white bag. “Bread and cheese can suffice, yes?” The beauty hands the bag to him. “What’re you doing in this forest anyway?”

Hoseok feels even more guilty for being angry when he smells the freshness steaming from the food. “I’m here for a job.” He speaks softly.

“A job?” She tilts her head, closing her satchel.

“The princess’ butler position.”

The beauty’s head moves up quickly in curiosity, eyes glimmering along with her golden skin in the humidity surrounding them. “You want to work for the princess?”

“Yeah.” There was a reluctance in his voice but he hoped the girl wouldn’t notice. “She’s always had a good reputation.”

“Like a pushover.” She scoffs walking over to the flower patches the deer was standing next to earlier. Tiny spots of pink and yellow crowded amongst weeds.

Hoseok quietly observes her small actions as she crouches down near the flowers, merely caressing it like she was checking on it. “She’s arranged the most alliances ever known in royal history before even becoming Queen. Lessened crimes. All through her diplomacy.”

“You seem to have a high regard for her.” Her words were more of a mumble but Hoseok manages to catch them.

“Good future Kings and Queens are hard to find.” Hoseok sits down on a nearby rock, unwrapping the white bag taking a slice of cheese and taking a small bite. “It’s nice to know we’re living in a time of one.” His stomach twists again in intense satisfaction from being hungry for so long. The nutty flavor of the food gracing his taste buds.

She leaves a small silence between them while her eyes admired the flowers again. Hoseok could have sworn that she was reassuring them that no deaths were made on these grounds. Something about that thought causes him to smile.

“I’m sure the princess would be happy to have you.” He heard the smile in her voice.

His stomach began to tingle with something other than hunger.

*****

Morning faded with a slight chill but the sun was strong enough to bear it. The closed circle gathered around in the throne room along with a new banner colour hung on the pillars. Rosyne couldn’t recognize the sigil of the Raven. Maybe a lost or a very small kingdom that wasn’t taught in history books too often.

She relaxes herself on the throne even it still prickles at her back. The last time Rosyne remembers sitting on this chair, it was when her legs couldn’t even reach the floor. When ruling the kingdom seemed like a fleeting goal just hovering over her head. Rosyne reaches out slowly and finds familiar fingers locking onto hers.

“You’ll be alright.” Hoseok whispers the lie to soothe her, even for a few seconds. His heart pounding through his ribcages and clenching so tight it made it difficult to breathe. This was what you set out for. The ultimate goal.

Once the double doors open, their fingers separate as they watch seven figures walk into the throne room, bursting in shades of black, red and white. Two figures in the middle, a man dressed in a velvet red coat while the woman was wearing a white, diamond encrusted gown. The woman has a slight limp as she walked if Rosyne focuses enough.

Blond hair a little over his left brow, the man in the middle—who she assumes would be King Namjoon—speaks with a soft smile. “Good morning, Queen Rosyne.” He bows a little. “I am pleased that you agreed to meet me.”

“Making alliances is always a good start for a peaceful world.” Rosyne smiles, deep violet eyes popping against the lavender dress she adorned.

Namjoons’ grin widens. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

As much as Rosyne wants to keep the pleasantries going, she knew no King or Queen ever liked wasting their time far too much. “What are your terms then, Prince?” She keeps a decent smile on her face.

“My kingdom is small.” He presses a hand to his chest. “However my military power and ancestral influence runs deep and vast.”

“Yes I’ve heard your numbers surpass many kingdoms.” At least that was the minimal information Hoseok gave her in the short amount of time they had.

“Therefore—”

Hoseok takes in a deep breath and holds it in his lungs as Namjoon leaves a silence in the throne room. He tries his best not to face Kiku even though he could notice her glance towards him.

“—I might have to ask for a certain—proposition.”

Rosyne narrows her gaze but keeps a certain softness to her expression. “Proposition?”

“My spymasters have seen many whispers about possible threats and assassinations on your Majesty’s life.” Namjoon gestures behind him towards a honey blond man with plump lips and smaller frame. With piercing eyes like his, Rosyne assumed he could catch anything out of place. “If I handed my forces to you then it may help a worst case scenario.”

“I appreciate the protection.” Rosyne grins giving him an acknowledging nod. “But what must I give you in return?”

Hoseoks’ fingers twitch still feeling her touch warm on his skin. So warm and comforting, bringing him all the peace he ever wanted. Then something twists in his stomach when he notices Namjoon take a breath to speak again.

“Your throne.”

Rosyne couldn’t even catch the council bursting into their baffled murmurs. Her body grew hot, fingers trembling against the wood of the chair arm but she tries to maintain a calm face. She was not connected to the throne by her hip. The only thing connected to it that she loved was her father but he was gone.

“Care to elaborate, Prince Kim?” She tries to drag it on a little more. Maybe breathe in for a while longer to calm herself.

“You will have the title as Queen…” Namjoon waves his hand. “—but I will need to take the reins if we were to protect this vulnerable kingdom effectively.”

Her kingdom was vulnerable. Military forces lesser than it usually was. If she disagrees and disrespects him somehow then there was no telling whether Namjoon will take it by force. Which would bring her back to the original fear in her mind.

Rosyne gulps down before immediately giving the male a kind smile. “Give me some time to think about this.”

Namjoons’ grin stretches wider. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Rosyne tries not to rush out of the throne room too fast. She manages to keep herself steady until they reach the hallway, her body loosens. Back rests against the wall as her chest rises and falls, deep breaths stuck inside her lungs now pushing out in light heaves. Hand came up to her belly trying to caress it gently. She had no choice. There was no choice.

She notices a figure coming towards her until he stands in front of her.

“Very forward request.” Hoseok comments towards Namjoon, foolishly trying to keep a farce when the confidence inside him was slowly crumbling.

“Yes it was…” Rosyne breathes out. “…but—”

“But?”

“Hoseok…” Rosyne swallows down the light lump in her throat. Her fathers’ words replying in her head. She needed to protect this kingdom. What if that meant giving it up for its’ own good? “I might have to agree.” Her voice rung low and almost meek but Hoseok always catches her voice.

“What?” Part of it was pretending but a small part of him still wonders. What would make her agree to giving the kingdom away?

“The kingdom is vulnerable, you were right.” She sighs, reaching out and holding onto his hand again. Whenever the heat gets to her head Rosyne finds momentary peace playing with his fingers and watch them intertwine with her own. “Now more than ever. We need their help.”

“He’ll take over the kingdom, Rosyne.” Desperation laces in his tone. There was this strange corner of his mind that wishes the woman would fight more, thrash and claw at anyone who tried to defile the soil she ruled. But Hoseok knew Rosyne wouldn’t. She cared too much for her own good to let blood stain her palace walls. God, he hated it. “You’ll—you’ll be put away.”

Rosyne stammers lightly before biting down her bottom lip. With a shake of her head, she speaks. “I don’t see another choice right now.” Eyes flicker up to meet his gaze searching his concerned expression. “But I’ll only do it if you think it’s right.”

Breath hitches in his throat for a moment. “W-Why me?”

“I don’t have a lot of advisors aside from you and Kiku.” Rosyne chuckles nervously. “And Kiku told me to do what I thought was right.”

Almost as if fate carefully chose how to torture Hoseok the most. Instead of letting Rosyne decide for herself, now it was on his shoulders. His fingers tightened around hers—as a silent way to apologize for what he was about to do.

“I say agree.” Hoseok presses his lips together immediately.

Rosynes’ expression softens as she nods. “Okay.” A small smile tugs at her lips and Hoseok wants to take it back.

He really wants to take it back but the Queen was already loosening her grip from his hand and walking back to the throne room.

“I’m so sorry.” Hoseok whispers once she disappears.

Back at the throne room, Rosyne notices that the woman in the white dress is now sited on a chair. She smiles a little assuming Kiku must have noticed her in pain and brought in a seat for the remainder of the meeting.

Once she stands in the front of the throne, the attendants in the room fade to a pin-drop silence. All eyes fixate on her with an air of anticipation and some maybe a little fear.

Rosyne takes a deep breath. “This kingdom is my home. I grew up running around this very palace while my caretakers kept telling me that one day it will all belong to me.” As she examines the faces, the fear is still there curdling in the depths of their gazes. “Every monarch has to make difficult decisions…” She licks her lips. “…even if it means having to step down from power.”

The council began murmuring again, still in their shocked tones. Kiku, on the other hand, looked rather calm giving Rosyne an acknowledging nod to reassure her. She was going to be by her side no matter what.

“Your Majesty, I hereby hand you over the kingdom of Wisteria.” Rosyne clasped her hands together, raising her chin a little. “I trust you will give it the nurturing, love and protection that it deserves.” She expected the council to argue more. Maybe the murmurs to grow louder but they stood silent, the air of anticipation now fading into full shock and lack of belief.

Hoseok caught Namjoons’ glance towards him. Maybe sometime in the past, he would have loved to see the look of accomplishment on his brothers’ face but right now all it brought him was dread. He averts his gaze and hangs his head down to the floor. They succeeded. Yet victory tasted far too bitter on his tongue.

“I promise you, I will do the best I can to ensure Wisteria thrives for ages to come.” Namjoon bows again, indicating that it was the last time he will ever do so.

*****

Sun blazed as morning faded into midday when Rosyne walked out into the gardens with Hoseok following behind her. Dark curls bounce as she walks though the flowers like a gorgeous nature faery in her loose georgette lilac dress. Much time passed since he got accepted as the butler for the princess. His cheeks still burn at the memory of staring at the same girl from the forest being announced as Princess Rosyne.

“How many people do you fool with that whole girl in the forest thing?” Hoseok breaks the comfortable silence, attempting to catch up with the princess she seemed to be flying through the garden.

Rosyne chuckles a little. “It’s not a play. No one really asks when I’m out walking.” She shrugs.

“Then people are a little stupid.”

“Are you calling yourself stupid?” She looks over her shoulder, a cheeky glint in her eyes.

Hoseok couldn’t control the grin stretching across his lips. “Where are we going anyway?”

“One of my favourite places in the palace.” A smile was evident in her tone as they walked further into the depths of the garden.

Finally Hoseok notices something glimmering under the sunlight, almost similar to the antlers from the gold deer he almost killed that day. Past the hedges shaped like faeries and mermaids, they come in view of a majestic building. All the walls made from clear material that welcomed the sunlight forming rainbow patterns on the surface. Inside he noticed trees and bushes along with some birds flying around inside the establishment and as they walk closer, he could hear the rush of water from inside. “A greenhouse.”

“I basically grew up in this place.” Rosyne smiles at the building with her aura bursting in colours of joy.

Walking inside, Hoseok realized where the water sound was coming from. The large fountain perched in the middle while some tiny ones hiding in the bushes. A rush of cool air brushed through his clothes giving him a slight refreshment.

“The maids would help grow crops and flowers.” She reaches out and caresses some of the banana leaves next to them. “The crops grow much faster because of the controlled environment and I can give them to the people whenever their harvests are minimal.”

Hoseoks’ heart jumps at her words. “You do that for them?”

“Well just the city itself.” Rosyne shrugs as if this act alone was not enough kindness. “I want to make two more on each side of this one…” She gestures to the sides as they walk closer to the fountain. “…so there can be more for the rest of the territory. Especially with winter coming around.”

“That’s—a wonderful thing to do, Your Majesty.” As his heart jumps, a strange warmth spread across his belly almost overwhelming him to smile because the energy was too much inside him. How many kingdoms would revolt just to have a monarch that could care for their people this much?

Rosyne smiles shyly before shaking his head. “It’s not anything special. Royals take care of their people.” She sits down on the edge of the fountain. “I’m not much of an expert warrior like my younger sister is so I do this.”

“It’s still amazing.” Hoseok defends as he sits down next to her. “Fighting isn’t the only thing a royal needs to do.”

Rosyne has the slight urge to rest her head on his shoulders but quickly refrains. “Thank you. And call me Rosyne, okay? Can’t spend your entire life calling Your Majesty, you’d probably go insane.” She giggles.

*****

Walking through the hallways pungent with the scent of medicine, Yoongi made sure to keep his steps quiet and careful. Although he felt a tinge of worry when Minnie told him that the pain on her leg kept worsening. Finally he stood in front of a red wooden door, reaching up to knock until he hears some murmurs.

Leaning in, he manages to recognize the Rosynes’ voice through the wood. The words then materialized and—

Shit.

Yoongi quickly shakes his head and opens the door to see Kiku, the Royal Physician looking over her shoulder while Rosyne stood adjacent to her looking at him with wide eyes.

“Can I help you?” Kiku asks with a hard expression, standing up from the chair.

The black haired male glances at Rosyne, giving her an acknowledging nod before facing the physician again. “Queen Minnie needs some medicine for her leg. She hurt it during the journey to the kingdom.” Yoongi tries to keep his voice calm and steady even though his fingers trembled just a little.

“Alright.” Kiku’s voice didn’t change as she gazes around the table before walking over to the one full of closed potions and Bunsen burners. “Did you forget to bring your Physician?” She asks without facing him.

“The pain got worse and Seokjin suggested that you might have something stronger.” Yoongi explains.

“Is it really bad?” Rosyne asks, a concerned expression twisting her features.

He quickly smiles to reassure her. “Your physician is known to be the best so I’m sure she’ll be in good hands.”

Kiku hums attempting to stretch her lips out in an attempt of a smile before handing him a baby blue liquid. “This helps to alleviate pain and if it’s just muscle problems, it could also heal some of the damage.” As Yoongi accepts the vial, she clasps her fingers to herself. “If anything gets worse, just bring her to me and I’ll check it personally.”

Yoongi nods. “Thank you.” He gives a decent bow to Rosyne before turning on his heel and walking out of the room.

As soon as the male disappears out into the hallway, Rosynes’ smile fades into concern. “Do you think—”

“He might have heard.” Kiku replies simply. “Look, if anything gets funny here—I’m telling them. And I’m not asking, Your Majesty.” Despite her voice being soft, it still had a firmness to it. “Magic should not be used with such a condition for a very long time…alright?”

Rosyne sighs. Of course she knew it was wrong. Maybe before it was okay to keep it on the down low but it had been dragged on for too long. So all she could do was nod.

“Master Min…”

Yoongis’ stomach jumps when he heard the eerie voice again. Turning around, he saw the Physician walking closer until a chill ran down his spine. “Lady Kiku…” He raises his chin and looks her straight in her grey-ish toned eyes.

The corner of his lips twitched before she speaks. “I know you heard our conversation.”

“Don’t recall doing that.” He shakes his head, attempting to keep a solid stance, unblinking and keeping as much eye contact as he could. Even though the words kept replaying in his head.

“I’m assuming you’re going to tell the new pretend king, yes?” A sense of bitterness intertwined in her usually calm tone.

“He is King.”

“Sure.” Yoongi had to admit Kiku had a good talent in rolling her eyes the most subtle way possible. “Back to the point at hand I would highly advise you to keep it our secret.”

“And why would I do such a thing?” Yoongi gives a slightly mocking smirk, tilting his head.

“Because I’m sure King Namjoon would not like to hear what his most trusted advisor did to his wife.” Kikus’ expression once again unchanging.

Yoongi feels his body burn and his stomach twist. The grip on the vial tightened until his knuckles were white. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His jaw tightens.

“Multiple nights, yes.” Kikus’ lips curled into a faint smile, now mocking his previous confidence. “Whenever Namjoon is too busy to come to the Queens’ chambers. All those things you whispered in her ear while she tried not to scream in pleasure.”

Gaze darkening, he stomped closer to the woman, body heating like a volcano. “How the fuck did you—”

“It’s an ability of mine. I can see, feel and even smell anyone’s darkest secrets so long as they look me in the eye for a period of time.” Kiku searches his eyes even longer. Much to her interest, Yoongi still didn’t move his gaze away. “It’s funny to see confident men trying to stare right into me thinking they’re in power when really they’re giving me everything to destroy them.”

Yoongi scoffed. “If you can do that then how is it you never expected Hoseok to go behind your back and bring Namjoon here?”

“Because his betrayal technically wasn’t his darkest secret.” Kiku gulps down but even then one had to really focus on her movements to notice. “Every magical ability has a twist.”

Yoongis’ expression softened in slight curiosity. Hoseok hadn’t spoken to Namjoon much ever since Rosyne agreed to give the Kingdom away. Maybe their brother did not feel too happy about betraying the Queen.

“So if I keep my mouth shut about your lovely liaisons with Queen Minnie…” Kikus’ voice pulled him back into reality. “…will you keep your word on being quiet until Queen Rosyne and I are ready?”

“Fine.”

Kiku nodded with a proper smile, making her grey-toned eyes look even more deadly. “Pleasure doing business with you, Master Min.”

The searing pain on Minnie’s ankle faded into the dull throbbing after the potion Yoongi gave her which thankfully allowed her to walk to the window. Eyes trails across the gorgeous view of the kingdom, accents of purple from the lavenders. She loved how this place was true to its aura of purple to match their name.

As a child, Minnie used to read about the first Queen having anxiousness every single day so she would decorate the entire palace with lavender. Then on the whole kingdom would design their houses with the same flower for their monarchs would feel at peace.

Footsteps tap against the wood making her ears prick up. Before she could turn to see, a pair of arms wrap around her waist pulling her body close.

“Are you impressed?” Namjoons’ voice tickles in her ear, lips brushing against the shell.

Minnie sighs. “I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean?”

“It just…” She shakes her head. “…it seems like we’re pulling a kingdom from under her. Instead of actually earning our place here.”

Namjoons’ body stills for a moment but he continues to press light kisses on her earlobe. “She agreed to giving us the kingdom.”

“Not willingly though.” Minnie caresses his forearm as it tightens around her body. “Rosyne looked—desperate and scared. It doesn’t feel right.”

Namjoon moves down to the crook of her neck, lips parting now as he lightly suckles on the soft skin. “You worry too much.” His voices mumbles a little.

Minnie closes her eyes for a moment feeling his teeth graze. She knew all too well he wasn’t going to listen to her far too much in this mood. “Someone needs to.”

He let out a deep breath opting to rest his chin on her shoulder. “The law in states if the Commander and Queen both sign to giving away the kingdom than it is respectable to do so. Queen agreed because she’s smitten for Hoseok and the Commander—” Namjoon scoffed. “He looks like a sweaty, old fool. They’re all gullible idiots, too nice for their own good. But what we’re doing still isn’t wrong.”

Minnie gulped down, still unconvinced no matter how he tried to make it look okay. Even the Commander being a timid, old man was beyond confusing. Though her thoughts were pushed down when she felt his palm trail down between her legs, cupping over her clothing. His lips latch back onto her neck, suckling on the skin to a point where it ached causing a light gasp to hitch in her throat.

“Now stop worrying and let me help you relax, hm?”

Sun dipped down fading the sky into a mixture of purple and orange hue while Rosyne scratched the pen across the paper. Hair tucked behind her hair while she has her comfortable soft white dress adorned on her body. Namjoon made sure to keep her out of as many meetings as possible while Kiku would update her on certain things by chatting with some of the members.

Though she didn’t care. The only thing swirling around her mind was what Kiku told her after talking to Yoongi.

Her heart sunk deep into a pool somewhere, drowning and screaming for help but Rosyne’s whole body looked calm. She kept writing on the paper trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

The door clicked open but she didn’t move from her spot on the bed. Footsteps echoed ever so slightly onto the walls.

“Are you doing alright?” Hoseok speaks first, watching the woman writing something down while calmly sitting against the headboard.

Rosyne hums in response.

He walks to the side of the bad and sits down on the edge. “Do you need anything?”

“What was I doing wrong?” Her words linger in the air, thickening it a little.

His brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Usually when—” Rosyne sits up a little, putting her book down. “…when people band together to take over kingdoms, it means the monarch must be doing something wrong.” She played with the fabric of the blanket. “What did I do?”

The air grew thick, making it uncomfortable to breathe as Hoseok shifted a little on the bed. Unsure of whether to move away or closer to console her. “You did nothing.” He mutters. “You’re—” So much better than them. “—a good queen.”

“Then why did you continue spying for them?”

Hoseok felt like all the air in his lungs disappeared leaving him unable to move at all. His mouth was agape looking over at the girl and finally seeing how reddened her eyes making the violet look dangerous almost. At least it would if she didn’t look so heartbroken. “Rosyne…” He reaches out and tries to hold onto her hand.

Rosyne pulls her hands away and hugs her knees to her chest. “Kiku told me that you were the one who alerted them of the kingdoms’ vulnerability—my vulnerability.”

“I really didn’t want to do it.” Hoseok persisted to shift closer until he completely sat on the bed with her. “Please–please believe me.”

“But you still did.” She shakes her head, eyes flooding with fresh new tears. “All that talk of staying by my side…everything was a lie.”

“No. Not everything.” Hoseok reaches out to hold her again. Give her some kind of comfort as he held onto her shoulder, hand cupping her cheek and wiping away tears trickling down. “I did do it to protect my brothers, yes. Namjoon had a goal and I wanted to help him reach it but—” He leans in, cupping both her cheeks so she could look at him. Even though staring at her features contorting into one of pain made his heart drop. “—what happened in our private moments—the bathhouse, everything, that was me, okay? It was all me.”

Rosyne pushed his hands away gently. “Don’t lie, please.” She sobbed out in such a weak tone. No wonder no one complained when she stepped down from Queen.

“I’m not lying, Rosyne.” Hoseok had to grip onto the fabric of her dress as his breathing grew shakier. “I’m not lying, I promise—I’m so sorry…” He whispers dropping his head down on her shoulder, sniffling lightly. “That was all me. I wanted to be with you.”

She winces wanting to push him away so badly but it felt so comforting. So annoyingly comforting. “I wanted to be with you too.” Rosyne swallows down the painful lump in her throat. “Please get off me.”

Hoseok nudges his nose against the crook of her neck for a moment before pulling away with his head hung down. Fingers curled up into tight fists as he brought them back onto his lap. “I—”

“I need to rest.” Rosyne shifted away and rested back on the headboard.

Deflated as his heart sunk down to a pit, Hoseok forced himself off the bed. “Okay.”

*****

Steam exuded from the large body of water, beautiful paintings of faeries adorned on the walls with lilac pillars and golden lining. What added to the ethereal atmosphere was Rosynes’ bare body, damp hair slicked back and her skin a little flushed from the heat. Hoseok pads further into the bathhouse, pushing the curtain closed behind him.

“I heard Gaia is going to be anointed another position.” He spoke though Rosyne didn’t seem to look startled at all, delicate fingers brushing over the heated surface. “No one’s been notified yet though.”

Rosyne turned around completely now, dipping down further so the slightly cloudy water blurred out her chest. “Yes, my father wanted to keep it on the down low for a while.” Her eyes practically shimmered in the light. “She’s being training for years.”

“You two make a strong pair for the kingdom.” Hoseok nods, hands intertwined behind his back.

“This is a place of relaxation, Hoseok.” Her voice dwindles down to a softness slightly different to what people heard out in the streets.

Hoseok couldn’t control his eyes flickering down to her chest as she ‘accidentally’ stood up a little more. Heat curdles in his lower belly. “I can see that.” His tone rings a low growl right from his core.

“That means you can stop being the butler for a little while.” Rosyne moves a little closer to him until her head moves up to watch him towering over her. “Come join me.”

The room was so warm and her voice was so welcoming. It would be very soothing to just take his clothes off, soak his body into perfectly heated water with a gorgeous princess in the water with him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He didn’t sound convincing at all.

“What if I drown?” Rosyne pouts.

Hoseok smirked, pupils darkening as his gaze fixates deeper into her adorable yet alluring gaze. “What if someone sees us?”

“The man who had the gall to shoot a golden deer scared of someone peeking into the bathhouse?” She raises a brow, tilting her head.

With a light scoff of amusement, Hoseok noticed her stand up a little more. Something jumped in his stomach when he almost spotted her breast before she dipped down again as if silently teasing him. Then he began shrugging his coat off earning an accomplished grin from Rosyne.

Stripping off of all his clothes and carefully walked down the stairs. The intense warmth broke through the icy layer of his skin. As Hoseok moved deeper, his body melts and loosens in the comfortable burn before he sinks until he was neck deep into the heat. A light sigh passed his lips.

“Better?” Rosyne asks in such a soothing tone, he could’ve fallen asleep right there and then.

Instead Hoseok hums in response, ears pricking up as the water moved around him. He watched the princess move to the side slowly. Her beautiful features glowing and flushed but she relishes in it with her eyes closed and body, slowly swaying.

“You like it here, don’t you?” His voice echoes a little against the surface.

Rosyne smiles. “From the moment I wake up to the minute I fall asleep, there are eyes on me. Noise everywhere. Responsibilities from each corner.” She tilts her head, waving her arms gently in the water again. “This is the only place of peace I have.”

Hoseok looks around the room. “Better place than any.”

“No one’s allowed to disturb me in here.” She mutters with a slight smirk in her voice. “It’s liberating.”

“I disturbed you.”

Rosyne suckled in her bottom lip before those gorgeous eyes flicker up to meet his gaze. The violet in them faded into an almost black tone. “I wanted you to disturb me.”

Oh.

Hoseok chuckles albeit with a slight shakiness to it with the way she was looking at him. He always when she was excited but those eyes and the way her lips parted—his fingers were trembling under the water. “Don’t I count as noise?”

Glistening lips stretch into a smile as she trails closer, steam radiating from her body. “I like your noise.”

Their faces inches away from one another, lips so close all Hoseok had to was lean in a little more. Just a little more and he could feel her soft flesh. This is too far. It’s going too far. All he had to do was befriend her, just befriend at best. Maybe a thickly laid trust but not this. This wasn’t a mission though, was it? Hoseok willingly dipped into this pool because she asked. Not because of some deep goal he needed to achieve.

Because she looked at him with those damn eyes and asked in such a warm, sweet voice. He was dipping in this pool, body melting and head spinning because he wanted to listen to Rosyne. He wanted her excited, eyes losing all of that ethereal violet shade. For her to smile and feel her body closing in on him. Fuck he wanted it.

It only takes the princess to move just another small inch before Hoseok leans in, brushing against her warm lips. He feels soft palms gently press onto his bare chest causing a tingle down his spine. He wanted more. The kiss was too soft. Hand raises from the depths of the water, he cups the back of her neck and pulls her in closer.

A small gasp hitches in her throat, mouth parting for him to explore while her hands move to his shoulders. His hot palms moves from her drenched hair down to her bare back. Rosyne shivers a little even in the sheer heat surrounding them before she feels him press their bodies together.

Hoseok breaks the kiss for a split second before pecking her lips again, trailing down to her chin to her jawline. He grazes his teeth gently at first relishing in the light moan passing Rosyne’s lips. Then he bites down the soft, delicate skin. He feels her fingers grip at his hair causing him to groan against her. When he pulls away, Hoseok couldn’t help but smirk seeing the reddened mark adorning the beautiful princess. Placing a kiss on top of the new wound he moves down her neck, biting down the crook again.

Rosyne lets out a small giggle before gently pushing their bodies onto the stairs. Her legs floating a little over his lap. She smiles at how flushed Hoseoks’ lips were, thumb grazing over the bottom one as he kisses the pads of her fingers. Moving her digits down his body, her fingers wrap around his member causing a light huff of breath to leave him.

She raises and positions herself at the tip. As Rosyne lowers, her grip tightens on his shoulder, breathing a little ragged feeling her walls stretch to a slight ache.

Her movements were slow and a little careful but Hoseok has all the time in the world to watch how her features soften, relishing in the new fill. His legs feel like jelly, his entire length beautifully swallowed by her wet heat. Hands move to her hips gently not wanting to force any movements when Rosyne still tries to adjust.

Rosyne slides up just halfway before moving down, the ache now subsiding completely leaving her with the pleasurable fill. She slowly bounces up and down feeling a warmth coil in her lower belly. Her core swallows his entire length again as she grinds against him, rubbing against her throbbing nub as a moan chokes out of her.

Hoseok watches her move, fingers pads now digging into her skin as she pleasures both of them in such grace. He leans in to press more tender kisses on her collarbone. A light groan emitting under his throat as he felt a heaviness between his legs. One of his hands move up to cup her breast, skin still so warm and inviting, his thumb grazes against her nipple. Lips reached up to kiss her earlobe. “You feel so good, sweetheart…” He tries to thrust up into her, hips crashing against each other earning a shaky whimper from the princess. “So good.”

Rosyne tries to reply but it only comes out in tiny, staggered moans as she feels Hoseok meet with her thrusts, water thrashing around them. Her arms wrap around his shoulders tightly, whimpering in his ear. The heat constricted inside her, desperate to release, fingers dragging down his chest. “I’m—” She breathes out. “I’m close…” Eyes close shut as the ball kept tightening, burning and aching for more.

Before he could utter another word, the heat rushes through him, body shuddering underneath her, heaviness spewing out of him and filling the beauty. Hoseok feels every inch of him being filled with warmth, slowly pulling him into a ecstasy induced trance. A faint smile curling on his lips, he watches Rosyne keep moving on top of him, his sensitive skin aching a little from overstimulation but he didn’t want to stop.

Her whole body convulsed as she felt something warm filling her up, bursting the ball in her lower belly. Pleasure exploded to each crevice, each veins as she grips onto his shoulders trying to keep steady. Her head feels heavy, hips jerking whenever her nub touches his skin. Rosyne rests her forehead against his as her chest rises and falls slowly to a normal speed.

“Was that relaxing enough, princess?” Hoseok gives a toothy smirk, peering at the beauty through hooded lids.

Rosyne giggles breathlessly before pressing a small kiss on his lips. “Very.”

*****

Early in the morning, Rosyne forces herself to walk out of the palace and take a walk through the city in her cloak. Most of the people looked over at her and smiled, giving a decent bow. It was good they were happy. That’s all that mattered at the end of the day. She smiled back at them to somehow ease the tension.

Though walking deeper through the stalls of clothing and scents of spices, she stops hearing grunting and yelling. Rosyne quickened her pace walking towards the sound until she found a couple of guards trying to drag an old man across the ground while he thrashed around.

“What’s going on here?” Rosyne’s voice immediately halted the guards’ movements. Both of them stared over at her with a slightly confused expression while the farmer, Daehyun quickly stood up and straightened his clothes up.

“He’s not paid his taxes.” One of the guards answered, gesturing to the farmer who grimaced.

Rosyne’s brows furrow glancing over at the farmer. “Daehyun, you’ve always been able to pay taxes before.”

“Not anymore.” He scoffs. “Ever since that sod got on the throne, he’s raised the taxes. Saying it’s for military efforts.” Bitterness spewed out in every single word when he spoke about Namjoon.

“What?” She winces. “Let him go.” As soon as Rosyne gestures, the guards gave her a bow and walk off to their posts. Namjoon wouldn’t like that loyalty but that still didn’t change why they were here. “I’ll need to speak to the King to address this problem.”

“Take your throne back, Your Majesty. That could help.” Daehyun had a kind tone but it still tugged at Rosyne’s belly.

“I wish that could help right now.” She whispers to herself.

He knew. God Hoseok knew something was going to go wrong. With the way Namjoon held himself once he sat on that throne, the air of confidence when he had the first taste of pure power. Of course the first thing he does is strip more money from the people in the city. One the many things good Rosyne enforced as the princess was to minimize the military funding so people could have more food and other facilities.

It made the kingdom thrive with rich harvests, people with full bellies and roofs over their heads without worrying to death about their debt to the monarch. King Eirin obviously hated the idea at first but eventually pulled through when he saw how happy and bright his kingdom was because of his daughter.

Now it was all ruined.

Hoseok watched almost with a glare as Namjoon relaxes on the throne, kissing the back of Minnie’s hand and leaning in to whisper something. Eyes flicker over to Yoongi and find him averting his gaze to the door. “You need to be careful, Namjoon.” He interrupts his little flirting.

Namjoon narrows his gaze, lips still hovering over Minnie’s skin. “Why is that?”

“If you keep drastically changing rules then the people will start revolting.”

“They love their princess but I’m sure it’s not enough to revolt.” Namjoon scoffed.

“Love can be a dangerous tool.” Hoseok looked over at Yoongi who now had his eyes completely locked on Minnie. “Don’t underestimate it.”

Brows furrowed, the king stared up at his friend. “Since when do you have such high regard for love?”

Hoseok sees Rosyne’s smile in the screen of his mind despite trying to push it down. It was useless though. Despite their slight tension, Namjoon knew him well. Far too well. He noticed the other male’s expression soften into one of recognition.

Namjoon breathes out a chuckle, leaning back on his chair. “Who’d have thought? The man who wouldn’t even blink after killing.”

“I killed for you.” He tastes something sour on his tongue causing him to grimace lightly. “Not for myself.”

“And yet you doubt my ability to run this kingdom?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “I never once doubted you. But I’m still concerned.” He looks down at the male who has his head turned to his side to listen. “One bad move always leads to another.”

Namjoon takes a breath to reply but the double doors open, breaking through their thick tension. A burst of lilac and black step into the throne room. “Lady Rosyne…”

Rosyne notices Kikus’ light sigh from the corner of her eye at Namjoons’ address. If she couldn’t control her emotions then Rosyne had no chance. But she tries anyway. “I would like to offer a plead on behalf of the kingdom.” The double doors close gently behind her before the room fades into silence.

“What is it?” Namjoon waves his hand, allowing her to continue.

“The taxes. Why have you have raised them?”

“You handed me this kingdom for protection…” He gives a small, forced smile. “…military is your first line of defense.”

“My military—”

“My military…” Namjoon corrects.

“Your military is strong enough as it is.” Rosyne maintains her calm tone though her fingers trembles as the seconds go by. “The taxes were there to ensure stability so that the farmers could pay within due time.”

“Well it’s not enough to strength the military further.”

“We have an abundant amount of funds in the vaults, I’m sure you can spare some.”

“And risk a drop in our funds?” Namjoon winces slightly.

“That is what military does.”

“With all due respect, my lady…” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the armchairs. “You don’t have any fighting experience, nor any time on the battlefield. I’m afraid you can’t have a say in what military can and cannot do.”

Hoseok tightened his jaw, shooting glares to the back of Namjoons’ head. Somehow it angers him more seeing how patient and calm Rosyne looks. Not at her but him. This kingdom deserved her. She deserved so much better.

“I have experience in running a large kingdom…with all due respect, longer than you have.”

“And yet I’m here sitting on your throne.”

The room rushed with icy cold air, so harsh it makes all of them shiver except for Kiku and Rosyne who stand still and calm. Hoseok could have sworn he saw the sun disappear for a few moments. Their breaths coming out in steam.

“Kiku…” Rosyne whispers, immediately holding onto the physicians’ hand.

In seconds, Kiku let out a deep breath and the room brightened with the sun again and the people meet the comfortable warmth of the day.

Namjoons’ breathing now sounds shaky and a little ragged almost as if he was fearful. “Alright, I’ll lower the taxes…” Maybe he was. “…on one condition.”

“What condition?” Rosyne asks, hand tightening around Kikus’ to keep her calm.

“I want you to take a ride around town…” Namjoon has a careful gaze on Kiku but he quickly moves back to Rosyne before his heart feels like freezing. “…ride around town without clothes on.”

“What’re you doing?” Hoseok whispers. His body heats up faster he realizes, nails digging deep into his palms until he almost broke the skin.

“Trying to prove who the monarch really is.” Namjoon replies in a low tone before facing the former Queen again. “Do I have a deal?”

Rosyne has her hand so tight around Kiku that she could feel ice from the physicians’ veins shooting up inside her. “Will you lower the taxes?”

Namjoon attempts to give a kind smile but it all comes to be malicious and mocking. “I’m a lot of terrible things but I keep my word.”

“Then I’ll do it.” Rosyne must have been hurting Kikus’ skin at this point but at least she could feel her trying to keep it down. Light rushes of ice shoots up her arm.

“No…” Hoseok speaks in such a meek tone. “Namjoon…brother, please…”

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Namjoon ignores before sitting back on the stolen throne again with an air accomplishment and relaxation.

*****

It all happened so quickly that Rosyne feels her head spinning when they ran towards the King’s chambers after the news. Even as she sat down next to the bed, eyes actively avoiding the blood soaked bandages, her head kept throbbing incessantly. This was too soon. It’s happening too soon. “Father…” Her voice shakes.

“I’m alright.” His father chuckles albeit with a wheeze in his breath. “I’m alright, sweetheart.”

Standing at the corner of the room, hair in a mess and her arms aching, Kiku feels somewhat comfortable looking at the King in this manner. To the eyes of the world, he was ruthless and cunning. Only to the eyes of his daughter the man softened, reminding her that love showed itself in so many strange and different ways.

“You’re not alright.” Rosynes’ lips quiver. “We both know that.”

Eirin’s smile fades for a moment but he pulls it back again. “This—was going to happen eventually.”

“Not if you didn’t go to that hunt.”

“I couldn’t just lie and wait for it to happen, my dear.”

Rosyne hangs her head. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t say sorry.” He taps her chin to make her look at him again. “Never apologize for your kindness. A lot of people like telling kind people that they’re weak or unworthy. Let them think it…but always remind them who the true ruler is.” Eirin notices the inhibition still glinting in his daughter’s eyes but finds comfort when she nods.

The King then turns to the left and gives a soft smile to his youngest daughter, Gaia. “You, my child, are going to destroy so many powerful people one day.” He muses.

His comment earns a small, sad chuckle from Gaia. Her cheeks still so flushed, eyes brighter than ever and full of youth despite the things she has seen and done.

“You will protect your older sister, won’t you?”

Immediately Gaia nods. “To the death, I promise.”

Rosyne doesn’t look all too happy about that promise but she stays quiet nonetheless.

“Now…” Eirin grunts a little. “…you girls go off.” He waves his hand weakly, smiling at the both of them. “Get some rest while I rest my eyes as well.”

They both knew what that meant. As much as it would be relieving to protest till their lungs ripped apart, there was no defying the force taking their father.

Gaia gets up first, walking over to Rosynes’ side and gently holding her arm. “Come on.” Her voice was deep but still comforting.

Rosyne pushed herself back to her feet before following the two girls outside of the Kings’ chambers.

“I’ll go check on the patrol. Make sure you get some sleep, okay?” Gaia rubbed her sisters’ shoulder, a light dullness to her gaze. The youngest always tried to keep herself contained with work whenever something went wrong.

Rosyne wonders how distant she would become once the news was confirmed.

As Gaia walked away, Kiku searches Rosynes’ expression. Much to her distress she could only see fear and pain. Some part of her selfishly felt relieved that she couldn’t look into her eyes. She feared of what they might tell her. As if the Physician didn’t already know. “You didn’t tell him.”

“I couldn’t.” Rosyne whispers. “I don’t know why it’s so hard.” Maybe she didn’t want to believe it. Maybe dragging out the news helped her believe that she had more time.

“What about Hoseok? Have you told him yet?”

Rosyne shakes her head. “What’s wrong with me, Kiku?”

“If the secret gets out at the time of the King’s death, you’ll be dead.” Kiku replies simply. “Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re doing exactly what a lot of Queens should’ve done in the past.” She takes a few steps forward and places a hand on her shoulder. “But you have to tell him. If no one else, he still needs to know.”

“I know…” Rosyne mutters weakly. “Once—” She swallows the lump in her throat. “Once the funeral is done…” Her voice dwindled in such a weak whisper as if she didn’t want to make it too real by saying it out loud. “…I’ll tell him.”

*****

“Your Majesty…” Kikus’ voice calm, deathly steady voice rung into the room. Even when the council looked so much different they paused whatever they were doing to look over at the woman coming to stand in the center.

Hoseok knew they could all feel it too. That sense of chill and dread running down their spine when they faced the mysterious Royal Physician. Even as Namjoon took power, it seemed like his friend wanted to actively avoid interacting with her. Right now as well the new king tried to avoid looking into her eyes.

“Yes, Kiku?” Namjoon sounds…so kind.

Fear does that to people.

Kiku leaves a small pause for the council to really drown themselves in the feeling of dread. It even smelled like fear. If fear smelled like fresh snow. “To prevent any sudden surprise during —” The room could have turned to ice as the cold grows thick around them. “—the ride to town. I would like to inform you that the Queen is with child. Of seven months.”

Hoseok always hated how casual she was with news. Maybe it wasn’t being casual. Rosyne told him the things Kiku went through growing up. ‘People do horrible things to people they can’t understand…we’re similar that way.’ To this day he hated that conversation. No one understands the fear and dread that Kiku radiated because of the dark secrets she has in her head while no one understands the goodness and selflessness in Rosyne’s heart.

People do horrible things to people they can’t understand. He was one of them, wasn’t he? Just like Namjoon.

The thought running in his head managed to distract him for a time until a heavy heat settles in his gut masking the chill. No. No, please.

Hoseok knew Rosyne was sick for a time; vomiting, eating berries with bread and craving meat when she hated it before.

“She doesn’t look any different to me.” Namjoon asks with furrowed brows.

“The day I discovered her pregnancy, she asked me to use an illusion enchantment to hide it once it starts to show.” Kikus’ expression didn’t change nor did the cold in the room. “Though I told her to stop so the physical symptoms will start coming back.”

God…he’s so fucking stupid. Hoseok should have known.

“Well thank you for the information—” Namjoon leans back on the throne. “But the Queen has agreed.”

Hoseoks’ head shoots to look at Namjoon, forehead knitted and the burn in his gut now directed into something else. “Namjoon—”

“A deal is a deal, Hoseok.”

Hoseok tried to glance at Yoongi for some kind of silent help and even he knew, this was wrong. The way the older male’s brows furrowed and lips parted almost as if he was trying to hiss. Even Yoongi knew this was very wrong.

Minnie looked…absolutely livid. Eyes almost reddening as her fingers tremble causing her to grip onto the arms of the chair. “You need to call it off.” The queen speaks this time breaking through the tense silence.

“My love, some compromises need to be made. I can’t just give her what she asks all the time, it makes me look weak.” Namjoon, as always, softens his voice when he speaks to his beloved.

“All she’s asking is for the taxes to be lowered.” Minnie mutters in disbelief of her husband. “Your kingdom will not be harmed by that.”

“General!” Namjoons’ voice booms across the room causing Minnie to flinch a little.

A man dressed almost rusting armor and skin glistening in sweat scuttles over to the area and bows down to Namjoon. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Oh? Oh okay. Hoseok’s brows furrowed but he stayed silent.

“Does the military need more funding?” Namjoon asks.

“Y-Yes, it does, Your Majesty.”

“What will happen if it’s not funded?”

“Then we will run out of weapons a-and armor.” The ‘General’ looks around frantically at everyone in the room, teeth clattering a little while he recited something out of a script. “And the k-kingdom will be vulnerable.”

“Thank you, General.”

The sweaty man bows again, with a proud smile on his face before stepping back. Jimin quickly steps away from him and closer to Yoongi with an annoyed grimace.

“You’re asking a pregnant woman who never did anything wrong to you, to strip naked and ride around town in her condition.” Minnies’ voice shakes with anger. “You’re not a King, you’re a fucking tyrant. And it’s going to bite you back soon enough.”

Namjoon kept his gaze on the woman before facing Kiku again. “The deal will go as planned.”

Hoseok expected Kiku to say something. Do something. This was wrong.

It was different, the way she looked at Namjoon. Like she already knew how to destroy him from the inside and out.

Though when Kiku looked over at Hoseok, his heart stopped beating for a moment.

The chill was gone and all he feels is this intense heat from his toes to his head, burning his insides until he lost all the air in his lungs. Shit, Hoseok could feel it ripping him apart.

Kiku was furious. Her expression didn’t change much but her eyes screamed only one thing right at him.

This is your doing.

next chap >>

#hoseok #thebtswritersclub #hoseok fanfic #hoseok imagines #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts royal au #hoseok royal au #hoseok smut #bts smut

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lesbiansforboromir · 4 years

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once again you made me deeply emotional over boromir. i don't have the fellowship (much less the english edition) at hand, so i can't even re-read my fav parts with him. any particular boromir-related stuff you may share?

FUCK ok I’ve got a migraine and a passion and I do not know how to use either of them but I’m gonna use this ask to talk about something I’ve been thinking about for months, not kidding on that one.

Galadriel... was the direct cause of Boromir trying to take the ring- HEAR ME OUT.

There are some very important things to remember about Boromir when you’re considering his actions and motives.

- He explicitly came on the quest assuming it would lead them all to Minas Tirith, because that’s where he needed to get back too. It’s very clear, he and Aragorn are literally going because Minas Tirith is on the way to Mordor. And every detour and every delay of the Company amps up his frustration and worry.

- He left Gondor with the certainty that his city would be besieged VERY soon and that they would not be able to break it. His trip to Rivendell is desperation based in it’s entirety, he’s looking for anything that might help.

- He knows absolutely none of these people from adam and whilst he very much wants to trust them, they have yet to win his loyalty or faith in ANY capacity. I’m sorry! I know everyone wants the Fellowship to be that good good found family foundation but it simply isn’t that for Boromir and never has been.

Okay so when they finally leave Moria and Gandalf’s dead, everyone’s grieving and miserable. They are also worried, Gandalf was their guide and as much as Aragorn’s a tracker he doesn’t have Gandalf’s expertise. Then again, Moria had been entirely Gandalf’s decision in the first place, claiming there wouldn’t be many orcs in there at all in an argument he has with Boromir about how dangerous the mines would be in comparison to the Gap of Rohan. Indeed, if Bilbo hadn’t given Frodo the mithril shirt then Frodo would be straight up dead and it would have been Gandalf’s decisions that caused it.

So at this point Boromir’s faith in Aragorn’s ability is pretty low. And no one else in the Fellowship has any interest in leading. Boromir deferred to Aragorn’s judgement because Aragorn’s more knowledgeable of Eriador and also just... a dude who needs to be in control, it’s easy to tell. But now Boromir’s not so sure Aragorn’s up to it, since he seemed to rely on Gandalf so much.

And then Aragorn tells them all they’re going to go through the Golden Wood. Now Boromir knows from the Rohirrim and Gondorian legend that the Golden Wood is Strange And Scary And Dangerous And Men Who Walk in Never Walk Out Again. And he says this, politely. Aragorn tells him he’s foolish for fearing it and essentially that if people got hurt in the Golden Wood then they deserved it. Again, despite the general discourtesy of these comments, Boromir chooses to believe Aragorn’s judgement.

The next thing that happens is they are accosted by Haldir, treated like possible enemies or spies (despite Haldir admitting that Elrond had already told them they were coming) and a day and a lot of dwarfphobia later Haldir is threatening Gimli with death. No I’m not joking, Haldir says there’s a law dwarves can’t come into Lothlorien without a blindfold. And when Gimli gets justifiably angry about this and wants to go back if he’s being treated this way, Haldir says he WILL be killed if he tries to leave. Weapons are drawn! The only reason this de-escalates is because Aragorn suggests they all go blindfold because ‘it is hard on the dwarf to be so singled out’. I cannot express to you how soon this happens after Aragorn assures everyone that Lothlorien is safe. I also cannot emphasise enough how Gimli does absolutely nothing to deserve this, he’s polite and kind as ever until Haldir instigates it.

So again!! Another mark against Aragorn’s reliability! And then we come to the CRUX of the matter, the meeting with Galadriel and Celeborn.

A lot happens here, some of it very funny in terms of Galadriel’s treatment of Celeborn, but the important part is at the end where Galadriel mind-interrogates all the fellowship but Aragorn and Legolas. Again, this isn’t subtext, in-text it says interrogate. And the fellowship discusses it afterwards. Gimli, Sam, Merry and Frodo all agree that ‘Galadriel offered them a choice, to go back home where they would be safe, or to continue on with the quest though there may be far greater perils ahead’.

But that couldn’t have been the choice she gave Boromir. Because he can’t go home to be safe and sound away from the evil!! He lives there!! This has been Boromir’s fight his whole life, it has never BEEN a choice for him. And from this moment on Boromir’s manner changes dramatically. He questions Frodo about what Galadriel asked him, he expresses concern about Galadriel’s motives, he says he believes she was TEMPTING HIM (remember that for later), concerns which are, once again, sharply and cruelly dismissed by Aragorn.

There is then a MONTH of a time skip, we get descriptions of the how the other fellowship spend their time in Lothlorien. Gimli and Legolas become friends. Everyone else grieves Gandalf and has a lovely time in Lothlorien... apparently.

But Boromir has never had any real positive feelings toward Gandalf and did not show any real grief at his loss initially. And whereas the rest of the fellowship seems respectful and awed by Galadriel and Celeborn, Boromir replies to their questions at the end of the fellowship’s stay in Lothlorien with what I would call veiled anger. `As for me,' said Boromir, `my way home lies onward and not back.' Which is a callback to the interrogation, the stark difference between the motivations and priorities of the rest of the Fellowship in comparison to Boromir. Which became VERY obvious to him in that moment. So I would posit that! Boromir did not have a good time at all! Boromir was stuck somewhere he felt unsafe and unwelcome and every extra second they spent in Lothlorien was yet another moment he was away from his currently-at-war home!!!

Anyway just before they leave the fellowship is privately discussing what road they should take when Boromir makes a slip of the tongue, where he’d always been articulate and clear before.

‘But if you wish to destroy the armed might of the Dark Lord, then it is folly to go without force into his domain; and folly to throw away-’ He paused suddenly, as if he had become aware that he was speaking his thoughts aloud. `It would be folly to throw lives away, I mean.'

It is very obvious to Frodo what he actually meant here, and this is where essentially Frodo’s inner monologue lays it all out!

Frodo caught something new and strange in Boromir's glance, and he looked hard at him. Plainly Boromir's thought was different from his final words. It would be folly to throw away: what? The Ring of Power? He had said something like this at the Council, but then he had accepted the correction of Elrond.

The important points in this section are that 1: Boromir has started thinking about the Ring of Power as something usable. 2: He did not think this before now, he had accepted Elrond’s words. This is ‘new and strange’. Something changed here.

And of course it did! Boromir doesn’t trust any of these clowns anymore.

Boromir’s advice, priorities and concerns have been almost entirely ignored and derided throughout the fellowship, even from the very moment he arrived in Rivendell! And after nearly freezing on a mountain, being chased by wargs, dragged through a mine of Orcs, a Balrog, threatened by supposed allies and then mind invaded by some elf he’s told to be in awe of, whatever will he had to trust and stay faithful to Aragorn’s decisions is barely hanging on.

And Galadriel didn’t just invade Boromir’s mind, she was tempting him! He says so himself! And considering the circumstances and how he speaks about it, the only logical conclusion is that she is tempting him with the ring, because Boromir’s shown no sign of conflict or interest in the ring before now. So Galadriel was the one who put that concept into his mind in the first place. It’s Galadriel who initiates Boromir thinking again on whether this was in Gondor’s best interests. And Boromir recognises she’s trying to manipulate him!! Which is fucking heartbreaking!!

'To me it seemed exceedingly strange,' said Boromir. `Maybe it was only a test, and she thought to read our thoughts for her own good purpose; but almost I should have said that she was tempting us, and offering what she pretended to have the power to give.’ (--) `Well, have a care! ' said Boromir. `I do not feel too sure of this Elvish Lady and her purposes.' `Speak no evil of the Lady Galadriel! ' said Aragorn sternly. 'You know not what you say. There is in her and in this land no evil, unless a man bring it hither himself. Then let him beware!’

Do you see?? Do you all see?? Am I making any sense at all?? Well I make sense to ME so lets continue- Here, you see how Aragorn puts all the blame on Boromir again? The twisted knot Boromir is in at this point is unfathomable and EVEN STILL! Boromir resists! For a very long time! This is what I mean when I say any characterisations of Boromir being overemotional or somehow out of control get at me so much, NEVER has a man had so much self discipline in his wholeass life. Boromir’s entire civilisation could be being bulldozed by Minas Morgul at this very moment and yet he takes everything that’s thrown at him without malice and internally continues to desperately hold onto his integrity.

But that’s what’s at stake! His integrity! Because now he’s grappling with what seems like a choice to either keep faith with the fellowship, stay with them and go where they go despite how much his country needs him, or potentially do something drastic in order to bring a the powerful weapon Gondor seems to have ALWAYS been looking for home to finally actually save his people. Because that’s what Galadriel offered him! And whilst he doesn’t trust her, it’s also in his head now as a logical thing to want! He doesn’t trust Elrond either at this point, so why should he believe what he said about the ring! It’s obvious everyone has boundless ulterior motives!!

Oh! Here’s a good place to try and explain my theory of how the ring’s temptation actually works. The Ring can control people one of two ways. The first we see with Frodo and with Boromir, it takes FULL control of their actions for a split second when they are vulnerable. For Frodo it made him put it on on Weathertop. For Boromir it made him attack Frodo. However this effect is exceedingly temporary and the person effected immediately comes back into themselves and recognises that what they did was outside of their control.

The other��way is often thought of as this like pervasive constant pull to the ring that effects you even just by being around it, wearing you down etc. But I don’t think that’s what happens. I think, in order for the ring to start exerting real dangerous persistant power over you, you have to know it’s power and logically want it. You have to come to that conception yourself, you have to think about it.

And I have a lot of reasons for this but where it pertains here-!! Boromir is a fine, reliable and solid member of the fellowship RIGHT up until Galadriel’s mind meld. It’s not gradual, he goes from making jokes, carrying Hobbits and fighting Balrogs to BARELY being able to control his speech and biting his nails and staring at Frodo creepily. There is barely any easing into it and it starts with Galadriel!!

And you know what! There’s an even more sinister layer to this because like... WHY was Galadriel doing this mind stuff in the first place? An immediate obvious answer would be to test the fellowship, to make sure everyone was solid enough to carry on, to ensure the folk who continued were focused. But... If that’s the case... and Boromir’s test was the Ring... like... he obviously failed that test right? She was reading his mind! And she does it again before they leave! If we’re to assume that Galadriel’s mind powers are greater than Boromir’s ability to deflect them then... surely she would have known! That this turmoil was in him! And if she KNEW then why didn’t she say anything to anyone? To Aragorn?? But I don’t think yall are ready for that discussion yet tbh and I have to stop typing or I’ll go blind.

TL;DR Boromir didn’t want the Ring until Galadriel tempted him with it and made the idea of it saving Gondor a possibility to him.

#galadriel critical #boromir #erran vs tolkien #UGH that was good to get out even though I am CERTAIN it's incomprehensible #tolkien #lotr #gondor #I've got so much boromir meta built up in me cus I've been too out of it to do any real writing #and so many asks I wanna answer right!!#chats #HHHH #Anonymous

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rotten-games · 3 years

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City of Immortals RO List

Okay so here it is, the list of ROs like I promised. Both mc's have their own pool of love interests to choose from with little overlap.

Here you’ll get a description of the ROs and some information on how the mc or others might view them. Also some info on the mc’s.

Mc1

Born to be a soldier by design, they were afflicted with immortality and stopped aging entirely once they hit thirty. A side effect—or perhaps a feature—is the beast that all but lives inside them, taking control when they feel incredibly strong emotions, though most often when anger is present. Where once they held full control of it, of the transformation they go through, now they must wrestle with its control with each passing day.

You are what’s called a Hunter. Every settlement has them, but Eden has the most. Caroline controls all her hunters from Eden, though ‘Hunter’ may be a bit of an oversimplification of the job description. Yes, one of their main jobs is providing food and other resources for the settlement, but they’re also bounty hunters, keepers of the peace, and are also often recruited for odd jobs when they have no contracts to fill. Perhaps the most important rule in Hunting, is that you always work in pairs.

Caroline: She/her

The best way to describe Carol is ‘short’, with a pair of unblinking amber eyes and a wind-buffeted, naturally tanned complexion. Her russet curls, while usually out of her face, never seem to stay tied back for long, a seemingly constant slew of curls sticking to her forehead. A jagged scar cuts across the knuckles on her right hand.

Caroline is unrelenting. She knows what her settlement needs and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get it—to save the lives of those she must oversee she is willing to do anything. Within reason. Truthfully, Caroline never asked to be made the leader of Eden, the job just sort of fell into her lap one day and no one bothered to take it from her. You’ve worked for her for years by the start of chapter one, and if you’ve learned anything about her it’s that she doesn’t do smalltalk. She’s been in a relationship with Lowrie for years now, and as far as you can tell, they’re very happy with one another.

Lowrie: non-binary, they/them pronouns

Impossibly tall and scrawny, Lowrie’s skin is constantly burned red by the sun, seemingly unable to tan no matter what they do. Their face is long, with ash-coloured, shoulder-length hair that would usually hide their grey eyes but is otherwise kept out of their face with a blue-patterned scarf.

Some have called Lowrie stuck up in the past for their less than talkative nature but that would be an oversimplification. In truth, they just aren’t fond of talking—which is probably why they get on with Harley so well—and more shy than anything else. One of Eden’s finest Hunters, they spend most of their time in the sweltering heat of Wasteland bringing bandits in and shooting any of the mangy beasts that stray too close to Eden. The rest of their time is spent managing the bar with Caroline and Harley, tending to keep to themself. You’ve worked with Lowrie in the past, and as far as you can tell there’s little love lost between the two of you.

Carol + Lowrie poly:

Caroline and Lowrie are poly and in a committed relationship with one another. They will not leave one another for monogamy with mc, however, you don’t have to be in a throuple with them—though that’s definitely on the table—you can simply be with one, who is with both you and the other. Lowrie is also currently casually seeing Harley. Carol is not seeing anyone else.

Mordred: he/him.

With a seemingly constant fuzz along his jaw, and a never-ending supply of little scars littering his warm olive skin, his hair tends to cover everything but his yellow eyes and the deep bags underneath. His hair is typically tied into a loose bun at the back of his head, mostly obscuring his pierced, slightly pointed ears.

Mordred is a hot-headed, easily irritated young man who’s been by your side since day one. You dragged yourselves out of the crumbling ruins of Ledala together, you fought together, and now you work together as Hunters. Partner’s in crime doesn’t quite cover your relationship but it’s certainly close. In recent years, however, your relationship has strained—perhaps it’s due to past mistakes getting in the way, or past feelings, but either way at the start of the book he’s nowhere to be found.

At the start of the game you can determine just what your relationship is with him—it’s strained at this point but the reasons why are totally up to you. He can also potentially have been an old flame of MC2.

Ridley: Gender variable

Ridley is an energetic person with a pair of bright green eyes constantly sparkling with a glint of adventure. Despite their heavily-muscled frame, they seem to constantly be hiding behind their oversized glasses, a veil of their shaggy red hair, and a slouch that makes them out to be much smaller than they are.

Ridley is… an enigma. While technically a Hunter, they seem much more interested in the pursuits of science and research than holding off rabid beasts with nothing but a gun that’s falling apart and a rusty sword. Of course, they can hold their own well enough, but when they’re meant to be spending their time training or helping out—and indeed, even on their time off—they’re usually found traipsing around in the desert looking for… who knows what.

Doc: She/her

Doc is stocky and sharp-jawed, dark brown, almost black eyes always watching. Her dense curls are shoulder-length and appear twisted together and held back behind her head. The tip of her left ear appears to have been torn off somehow.

Not known for her bedside manner, Doc travels between settlements to tend to the sick, injured, and broken, and though none can particularly vouch for her interpersonal skills (though who can say anyone has particularly good ones, these days?), they can certainly do so for her medicinal accomplishments. Some think her a wandering ghost, aiding those who need help to make up for the sins of her past, others simply see her as a woman seeking to do her part for the good of Wasteland, regardless, if you get on her bad side she’s been known to be liberal with her gun. Or so the rumors say.

J. Allard: Gender variable

Allard is a nervous-looking, shifty individual with short but messy brown hair flecked with grey. Constantly fidgeting with the ring on their thumb, their stutter becomes more obvious the more nervous they are. Though their eyes hide behind a pair of darkened glasses, a pallid face a week out from its last wash they are, completely, honest. Trust me.

J. Allard is a totally normal priest. There is nothing strange about them, they simply want what is best for you and your companions.

Mc2

Dragged down into the depths of the earth on the day Ledala fell, you never knew of the city beneath the surface. Your sibling died that day, you’re sure of it, and a part of you died with them—the beast no longer responds to your call and you’re still left injured from whatever afflicted you and your comrades that day. The man who saved you set you to work for him—sorry, with him—and now you walk perpetually in the darkness of a city long since forgotten by the sun, with people named after the remnants of an old world you never knew existed. You were never meant to survive that night, and every day the world around you reminds you of that.

Arthur: he/him

Arthur doesn’t look quite there half the time. His skin is translucent, his pale blue eyes impossibly far away, platinum blond hair little more than wispy strands atop his head. Most of his body is otherwise covered completely by that old, brown coat of his. There’s light freckling across his nose.

Arthur saved you that night. A Private Investigator by trade, he brought you on to work together because you had no where else to go. Maybe because of it you should be closer than you are but there’s always been a distance between you he’s been unwilling to cross. Either way, despite working together—living together—he keeps to himself and you try to keep to yourself in turn. Still, you can’t help but notice the disdain he has for the City Council and their lackeys.

Perci: she/her

Perci is constantly smiling. Relaxed of posture, her straight hair once ashy brown is now dyed silver. It’s cut short at the sides and back, creating an undercut, most of her fringe tucked behind her ears to reveal a pair of dark brown, monolid eyes. She seems allergic to sleeves, taking whatever chance she gets to show off her cybernetic arm and the colourful tattoos that adorn her flesh arm.

A friend of Arthur who sometimes helps with investigations. She’s friendlier than he is with you, even inviting you out on occasion, but rebellion is on her lips more and more nowadays, and she isn’t subtle about it. You haven’t seen her in quite a while—as far as you can tell she and Arthur aren’t on speaking terms anymore after that big fight they had a few months back. As far as you can tell, she’s moved on and you certainly wouldn’t blame her if she has Council dogs on her heels.

Saga: Saga is always the same gender as your mc is.

Saga’s hair is a deep blue in colour, their black roots just barely growing through. Half of their head is shaved, the other half left chest-length and braided over their shoulder. Though their entire body seems to interwoven with tech, what is perhaps most interesting about them is the angular tattoo that crawls down the right side of their face. This is probably why they come to you completely covered in muck and baggy clothing.

Saga shows up at your door with a different name and a job. You aren’t given why, only the how, only the what. They’re stubborn and flighty in equal measure, suspicious of everyone around them including yourself. Oh, they dress the part of a street rat well, but the cash they have just on hand is nothing to blink at and, underneath all that grime, their skin is perfectly unmarred by the ravages of time.

Deimos: he/him, gay

Whether or not Deimos’ strength is his own or from borrowed, military-grade tech is anyone’s guess, but no one’s ever bothered to ask. Though he’s tall, he isn’t necessarily as muscular as the fear he commands would suggest. His eyes glow orange, black hair trimmed but not maintained, and his grin is enough to stop anyone in their tracks. For whatever reason, he always wears warm clothes.

Deimos is a Council dog who’s been hounding Arthur for a few years now. You’ve never officially met him; somehow whenever he drops into the office you always manage to be out. Whether that’s coincidence or because Arthur sends you out on errands very conveniently at those times it’s not for you to say. Somehow, he never seems to do too much damage to your colleague.

Adrastea: Non-binary, they/them or she/her pronouns, only attracted to nb or female mc’s

Adrastea has been voted the city’s most attractive person many years in a row now. Everything about them is perfect; perfect smile, perfect blue eyes, perfect cascading coils of iridescent hair, yet somehow despite their well-calculated appearance it’s like there’s a tiger waiting to pounce on any wary admirer who comes too close.

While not a member of the council they hold great sway simply by virtue of their age and the fact they’re so beloved by the populace. You’ve seen them on the holos, how they’re oh, so giving to the needy and even invite the commonfolk to their lavish parties all the important council members attend. It’s an act, it has to be; through their gorgeous smile and all those sheer dresses they seek nothing if not attention. A lot of their history is shrouded and deleted from public record, but you do know that they were once a head scientist that took part in the very same project that supposedly made you what you are today.

Dagda: gender variable

Dagda is the perfectly attractive face everyone sees on their screens every night. In a world of cybernetic bodies and unnaturally bright lights, they are the one person who almost looks... natural. With a perfectly cultivated appearance of salt and pepper hair, soulful brown eyes, and that winning smile, nothing about them is their own; everything they do exactly what everyone else tells them to do.

The mouthpiece of the Council, Dagda is seen to be charming and down to earth in the vids. They say Ledala is prospering more than it has in decades, that the crime rates are lowering thanks to the wonderful work they and their colleagues on the Council are doing. Of course, there always has been a certain emptiness behind their eyes. When the camera isn’t rolling, you wonder what they really think.

#lore #coi game

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captain-emmajones · 3 years

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love languages

Here is my contribution for CSJJ. Big thanks to @csjanuaryjoy for organizing this, to the CSJJ discourse server and its wonderful ladies, to @carpedzem for cheering me on always and to @profdanglaisstuff for beta'ing this <3

Post 4x11. During the six weeks of peace. It all starts with Mary Margaret reading a stupid article about love languages at breakfast, and before she knows it, Emma finds herself asking Hook his as they are stargazing by the docks.

Canon Compliant -- Fluff -- Banter -- Missing Scene -- Ao3 -- 1,5k words.

A veil of mist hangs low in this January night sky; it dances around a crescent moon wreathed in a halo of silver light. The moon is peering at the scene, down below, by Storybrooke’s harbour.

And what a scene, my dear...

Two figures dressed in warm clothes are sitting on a bench, wrapped up in one of those large checkered blankets that they share; the taller one seems resolute on examining the stars in the night sky, brows furrowed in a focused expression and fingers clenched around a spyglass.

That is quite unfortunate, thinks the moon, for the clouds are impish that night and stubbornly hide their secrets. His companion sits cross-legged at his side, one hand cupping her chin, eyes set on the man’s silhouette and the moon wonders what could possibly be so interesting on this man’s face for the woman not to look up at her.

There is a shift then, in the woman’s composure, and the moon sees one gentle hand grab the man’s arm as a cloud of white smoke escapes her lips.

The moon winces; she knows the silence is about to be shattered.

“Hey, what’s your love language?”

This stupid question has been on the tip of Emma’s tongue all day, tingling and burning, and Mary Margaret and the article she read aloud at breakfast are entirely to blame for it.

Emma is lucky that the rum they drank at dinner with her parents is still coloring their cheeks red, and that a flame seems to be licking up her throat, because it is a delicious burn and saves her the embarrassment.

“Sorry. Say that again, Swan?”

He does not turn around. As something mischievous stands up in Emma’s chest and pouts, Emma wants to groan that there will be no stars to be seen tonight. How dare he not pay attention to her when she let herself be lured by his talks of “star-gazing”?

Instead, she admires the hint of red coloring the apple of his cheeks and the wisps of breath he exhales calmly through his nose.

“I mean, what makes you feel loved?” she asks again, and she tries to sound more annoyed than she actually is.

Which is, actually, not at all, but he most absolutely does not need to know that.

The expected result occurs as he swiftly shifts to gaze at her, his blue eyes flashing in the dimness, and that sinful tongue licks a pattern across his lips.

“Swan, are you drunk?” he teases, smirking a bit, but with a lot of tenderness.

She chuckles as he clicks his telescope shut without breaking their gaze.

Her legs do feel heavy as lead, and her head deceptively light as a cloud, but that she won’t tell him, not on any account.

“Am not.” And if Emma’s head lolls to his side, terribly tempted by his welcoming shoulders, it must be because of gravity or something.

But she does not cave in, and she raises her eyes to see his entire face crinkling up in a delightful, devilish way and Emma wishes she could kiss each little spot of skin the moon dabbles light on.

“Yes, you are. Should have watched you and Mary Margaret’s cocktails.”

While Emma does think there is something to be said about her mother’s cocktails, she still rolls her eyes and frowns, even as stubborn laughter keeps bubbling up inside her throat and is making it difficult to keep a straight face. “Just answer the question!” And her fist gently bumps against his shoulder for good measure.

He dramatically sighs next to her, one eyebrow quirking up in that peculiar way that makes her toes curl, and she hates him for it but she also wishes that he may never stop.

“...What was the question again?”

She exhales a groan of discontent. “Killian!”

“Emma?”

Another groan. He will be the death of hers. “Your love language! What is it?”

“My love language, you ask? Well, mmmh, let me think.” And as he pretends to ponder, tapping his fingers against his red, red lips, tap, tap, tap, Emma finds herself leaning towards him, against her will, magnetized.

But she catches herself and proceeds to frown harder, hand closing around the cold wooden bench instead of the lapel of his coat. They are trying to have a conversation, for fuck’s sake.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and Emma blinks because she cannot stop looking at his mouth.

“Ah. But Swan, we have a problem.”

“Do we?”

His lips, over hers, now. Forever, preferably. The delicate shadow dropped by his eyelashes onto his cheekbones is infuriating.

“Yes. As a matter of fact, although I am familiar with many languages, I’ve never heard of that love language theory of yours.”

It’s a miracle she hears anything he’s saying.

“It’s not my theory,” she mumbles right back, and she can tell by the lovely, lovely sparkles in his blue eyes that it is exactly the reaction he wanted out of her.

“Care to explain it either way?”

She thinks she shakes her head then. He is annoying. This is far more than she ever signed up for. She just wanted to tease him, and now she is the one being teased. Truly a terrible turn of events. That doesn’t mean she can control the smile that tickles her lips.

“Well,” she clears her throat, straightens her back, tries to appear very serious, “there are five traditional love languages.”

“Yes,” he encourages her, smiling widely, “I’m all ears, Swan.”

Her cheeks hurt from all of the smiling. It’s okay. He and his stupid big blue eyes are worth it.

“Well, first, there are words of affirmation, like a loved one telling you they are proud of you or that they lo--...you know what I’m saying.”

I’m a fan of every part of you, Swan.

And the thing is, she hears herself utter the words, and she does think that she does not sound like herself at all -- talking about love languages with Captain Hook -- but also Killian and she have been dating for the last couple of months now and this isn’t like anything she’s ever done before and maybe it isn’t so bad.

“Interesting. Do go on.”

In fact, it cannot even be remotely bad when he keeps staring at her like this, as if she is really precious and important and he cares or something.

“Then there’s quality time, like feeling loved when you’ve spent a precious and unique moment with a loved one.”

Right now, we have a quiet moment.

“Mmm, I see.”

“And then there are acts of service, and that goes without explanation.”

I knew Bae as a boy. Perhaps I could talk to the boy. It would help him come to terms with his father’s passing. And me.

“Fair enough.”

“Then there are gifts, of course --”

“Like the rose I offered you on our first date?”

“-- like the rose you offered me on our first date --,” she repeats. Before a bucket of cold water is spilled on top of her head as she realizes what he’s just said and what she’s just agreed with.

It’s a good thing the street light above their head is doing a poor flickering job because by the time Emma has pondered her own words and has reflected on how naturally Killian said that last line, well, she’s flushed a bright red.

He doesn’t mean that he, that they, that she...does he?

An alarm rings inside Emma’s head. Beware! Slippery slope of feelings ahead!

And instead of thinking one second more about this, Emma heaves a quiet breath, blinks, and exhales sharply: “-- yeah and the like.” As she looks up, she notices Killian’s smug grin.

And something very soft, in his eyes, something very soft and terrifying.

“What’s the last one?” he asks in a husky whisper as swirls of white vapor escape his mouth to kiss Emma’s lips.

She gulps. Exhales. “Physical touch.”

By the time she says the words, he is hovering dangerously close to her, and his hand is slipping into her hair, curling around the base of her neck, and the tingles it diffuses all over her skin are simply illegal.

“Like that?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nods, lips tight, unable to breathe. What is he doing to her?

“Like that, yeah.” And if her voice is hoarse, the ocean breeze isn’t the only one to blame.

His fingers slowly abandon her hair to find her lips, and he presses them, gently, above her open mouth and Emma’s hands have found his arms without her consent.

And just as he dives towards her, heart pounding, courage roars inside of her and she dares ask once again: “So?”

It makes him stop, gaze seriously at her, eyes open wide. She swallows again.

“So, what?” he answers, and he almost sounds angry.

The lust she sees dancing in his eyes tightens each of her muscles.

“What’s your love language?” she repeats, bites her lower lip.

She isn’t flinching. She started this. She wants to win.

He smiles, fingers caressing down her neck to find her collarbone, and although she shudders she feels victory stretch her lips.

“I’m a pirate, love. I don’t choose between treasures. I take them all.”

As if to seal his words, his mouth hungrily finds hers, and he drinks her breath, and Emma lets herself be defeated in her heart only, but surely not aloud.

#cs ff #cs fanfics #captain swan #csjj 2021 #csjj2021 #my stuff #i hope i'm tagging this right please come scream at me if it isn't @the mods #cs january joy

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rpg-elf-girl · 3 years

Text

Shadows House

I have a lot of thoughts surrounding this particular show, both good & bad.

Allow me to give a quick summary for anyone who hasn't seen/read it!

Shadows House is about 'a faceless family of nobles who all live within this giant manor, the Shadows House.

When a Shadow comes of age they receive a 'Living Doll' to both serve as their face and to clean the soot they emit from their bodies.

The most important rule of the living dolls is "don't fret over trivial matters"

A task which is difficult for the ever curious doll Emiliko.

Watch this tale unfold as Emiliko & her mistress Kate navigate this ever mysterious Manor together.'

For a fan of slow burn thrillers, horror, slice of life, supernatural & mystery series' this has been an absolute blast!

It's not quite the combination of genres you'd expect from a show, but it works really well here!

In fact I was so into the anime that this is actually the first show where I broke down and read the manga!

Unfortunately there's no official English release, but at least there are some people translating the series!

As much as I'd like to go on about the manga, this post is meant to be more so about the anime so I'll (try to) leave it at that.

Though i feel obligated to warn anime onlys I'll likely refer the manga a lot in a spoiler section latter in this post I'll try to be vague but I can't guarantee anything. For anyone worried about that I'll lable it do you can read on until then.

Everything from the animation to the music was amazing & completely fit the mood of the story! I remember a couple scenes where I actually teared up because of this!

The Ending theme is an absolute banger! I've listened to that on repeat ever since I first heard it! And the Opening is also great! It's cool for it to be an instrumental, stuff like that is pretty rare! I also heard the song in the op as a motif in the music throughout the show! It really sets the right mood in each scene it's in! It's amazing for getting into each episode!

In terms of adaptation almost everything from the beginning to the end of the Debut arc was done amazingly well!

Even with the stuff they cut it still holds true to the spirit of its source.

The main important part that was cut is something that could easily be introduced latter if they decide to go for a second season, so I'm not too mad about that.

However! Everything after the debut is a bit of a different story.

There was a lot I liked about the last couple episodes but there were some parts that were immersion breaking for me.

I've been being vague up until this point l, but I'm planning on going into spoiler territory for both the anime and manga after this. So I'll make a quick spoiler free summary of my thoughts before moving onto that.

I really really loved this show but in my opinion the last 3 episodes were the weakest of them all. They went anime only for the ending. I don't mind that on it's own, but it was rushed and the writing was sloppy at times.

Now I'm not telling you to not watch the show! Most of It's really really good, and I can still see people enjoying the parts I'm talking about if they want to give the anime a try. Overall I've fallen in love with this series and I could never recommend it enough.

If what I'm saying is giving you bad vibes the manga is available and doesn't have the issues I've mentioned. You can look for a translation online, it didn't take me long to find one so don't worry too much about that.

Also! if you're an anime only who's finished the series and want to know where to pick up the Manga I'd recommend at least skiming through the beginning. I know it might not be what you're looking for but there were a bunch of small scenes that either got cut or were merged for adaptation purposes that I think are super cute & give more context to different aspects of the setting. However! Pay close attention during the "night watchers part" something important got cut .

~~~Now for spoilers!!!!~~~

I don't want to make it sound like I'm some manga purist who hates the very thought of the slightest change from the source. I'm anime only for a lot of different shows and I've always despised it when that type of manga reader reared it's ugly head.

While I'll admit some changes did bother me I won't make a fuss about the smaller stuff.

With that said!

I hinted earlier in this post that I didn't have a big problem with Robe-same being cut. That was because without them there it does make for a more complete story if they only get one season to work with.

If there is another season they can easily be introduced latter on. Like maybe Emiliko & Shaun can meet them when the Debutant class reunion is going on before they talk on the roof (or right after that) I actually think that would be the perfect time to introduce them (other than the time they were supposed to appear, but I digress)

Louise teaming up & being friendly with Kate can be explained with some dialogue changes at the first Debutant Class Reunion. Louise can say she was just trying to show off or that she just wanted to get back at Edward and that she isn't interested in helping Kate with her problems. Things can then go on as they did in the manga.

Kates being reckless & telling everything to John can be explained by her being extremely panicked when Emiliko went missing, as long as there are some lines of dialogue adressing this it's fine. Though I do wish she tried to keep some stuff a secret but couldn't because Shaun tries to interfer because he's still brainwashed, or something along those lines. It felt a bit weird after she just told Emiliko to keep that stuff between them. Still that could be explained by how panicked she was.

There are other things, but I don't want to drag the post on too long. Most of the issues can be fixed with little changes here & there.

I never had a problem with the idea of them going in an anime only direction. I just want to have a good time with the show.

Unfortunately I can't 100% vouche for the direction the show went in. There were elements that I can't excuse, even viewing it as it's own entity instead of an adaptation.

My main complaint with it is how they handled the brainwashing of Ricky & Lou. They didn't say a word when the Debutants were talking badly about Edward & even went along with a plan to go against him. It makes absolutely no sense!

Shaun freaked out when John only suggested that he didn't have to be loyal to the house. These guys were flat out rebelling against an adult! It felt like Ricky & Lou didn't have a purpose & were just there to be there.

The whole point of the coffee is to influence shadows against doing stuff like this. It makes the coffee seem pointless and the adults seem dumb for relying on it to control the kids.

I haven't even brought up the fact that both of their brainwashings were broken by something as simple as a few kind words. It straight up contradicts the rules established by both the Anime and Manga.

This becomes very apparent when you consider all the trouble John & Kate went through to free Shaun & Emiliko.

This was my biggest complaint, but I have some other issues as well.

The next big one is how they handled Edward.

1. Why on earth would he even consider kidnapping Emiliko when he had complete control of the childrens wing? Before this point he was depicted as being a lot more crafty than this. He could easily have Kate monitored or something.

2. Why didn't he use his powers to stop them like what he did to Maryrose & Rosemary when they fought back being taken to the adults wing? He's already shown off his power at this point, why not?

3. Why did he reveal his soot powers at all!? Especially while using his face in front of the kids! The whole unification thing is one of the biggest secrets of the house for good reason! There's no way he wouldn't get in huge trouble for exposing it to children!

Here are some other related questions.

Why didn't Kate, Emiliko, & John react to Edward using soot powers? They shouldn't know about unification yet so why didn't they act shocked, or say anything about it?

Is Edward being banished even an option in the Shadows House? Wouldn't the third floor lords just dispose of him rather than risk letting him leave?

How did John even get a veiled dolls outfit? Louise had to use her powers to get Kate one & she left a long time ago.

I can't think of much else at the moment, but I think you get my point.

Please don't take this as me saying that I hate the show because of these episodes. Even if I consider them the weakest of the series I still found a lot of parts to be very enjoyable!

Like I thought it was adorable When Edward was attempting to interrogate Emiliko & she kept being her sunshine self pretending to eat & falling asleep.

Barbara getting to tell off Edward for breaking the rules was great!

I loved seeing Shaun hatch the plan to get Kate into the adults wing to save Emiliko.

Seeing John (attempt to) sneak around the adults wing had me rolling!

The ending scene of Shaun, Ricky, & Lou singing gave me the chills.

(Though I wonder how they'd handle Shaun & Emiliko being brainwashed again since they already used the scenes where they're freed)

Kate & Emilico being propelled by John back to the children's wing was absolutely amazing! I found Shaun & Ricky running over to catch them to be super sweet! (Not to mention the way that scene was animated was absolutely gorgeous!)

Getting hints to what was supposed to come after the debut was nice, at least the groundwork is there in case this gets a season 2!

To (try to) wrap this all up while there were a lot of things I loved and disliked about this show I still had a really fun time watching it!

I kinda hope there's a season two just to see if they can tidy up the mess that the last few episodes created.

Regardless of whether that happens or not I came out of this with a series I absolutely adore.

Heck I could make a whole other post about the manga. (Hopefully one that's less ranty)

Anyway! I won't take any more of your time.

I hope you all have a wonderful day/night! And I hope to see you in my next post!

(Sorry if this one was a bit of a mess!)

#Shadows House #Shadows House Review #Shadows House Anime #Shadows House Manga #anime #anime review #seasonal anime

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ibijau · 3 years

Note

Hey, you said prompts are still open? If so, can you write something where jin guangshan is giving lan xichen 'unwanted attention'? Hopefully xisang?

Oops, this isn’t really xisang, and in fact mostly focuses on jgy. I finished this a few weeks ago actually, but just... forgot to post it? somehow??

warning for implied rape, especially against minors

It is bad enough when Jin Guangshan looks at women like that. Every time Jin Guangyao catches his father’s lecherous glances toward servants, entertainers, girls of good birth or, on a few repulsing occasions, his own daughter-in-law, he finds himself shivering with uncontrollable disgust. He shouldn’t mind, it’s just traces of the brothel clinging to him even now. A man like Jin Guangshan is allowed to look however he pleases at whoever he likes, and Jin Guangyao is acting like the whore’s son he is whenever he silently disapproves.

Jin Guangshan looking at women inside his house is nothing at all like patrons looking at the girls at the brothel. Jin Guangyao knows those servants aren’t going to be cheated, he knows they get compensated for submitting to their master’s desires, he knows that Jin Guangshan isn’t foolish enough to make advances to women he shouldn’t want, not when there are so many pretty girls he can buy. Jin Guangyao knows this, because it is part of his job to compensate his father’s flings. Jin Guangshan has decided he would know how to handle this.

Jin Guangyao hates that his father was right about that. He knows how to deal with crying girls, how much money to give them (more than he should, but no one has noticed yet), how to find them work elsewhere once Madam Jin has figured out what’s happening and they must be asked to leave. Jin Guangyao deals with all this easily.

What he can’t deal with is seeing his father start looking at Lan Xichen.

There are not many people Jin Guangyao cares about. His mother is dead. Nie Mingjue, whom he once admired, now terrifies him. He has some vague affection for Nie Huaisang, who is a little stupid but likeable, and for Jin Zixuan and his wife, who are both trying their best to be kind to him. He loves his father. He has to. He refuses to consider the alternative, however tempting it is sometimes, in the dark of night, after another incident where Jin Guangshan treated him worse than he treats some servants.

Jin Guangyao loves his father, like the dutiful son he is.

He also loves Lan Xichen, the only brother he truly wants in his life.

If it were anyone else that Jin Guangshan had newly set his eyes on, Jin Guangyao could ignore it. His father rarely bothers with men, but he does on occasion. Those boys usually have to be paid more than the girls.

Jin Guangshan is not kind to the boys he takes to bed.

If it were anyone else pestering Lan Xichen, Jin Guangyao would find ways to deal with them, either on his own through veiled threats, or by carelessly mentioning it next to Nie Mingjue, who would have the power to make very open threats.

But it is Lan Xichen, it is Jin Guangshan, and Jin Guangyao is torn between loyalties.

So he does what he is best at, and maintains the status quo until he's forced to pick a side.

Or at least, he tells himself that's all he's doing. If he prefers to meet his sworn brothers away from Lanling these days, it is only because Nie Mingjue is such an annoyance for Jin Guangshan. And certainly Lan Qiren is always invited alongside his nephew at conferences and official meetings lately, and then placed closer to Jin Guangshan than his nephew, but that is only because Jin Guangyao knows the Lan sect value seniority high above actual rank. And when his father does manage to strike a conversation with Lan Xichen, Jin Guangyao makes sure to stick around, suddenly deaf and blind to his father’s little signs that he wants time alone with whoever was unlucky enough to have caught his eye.

Afterward, his father always scolds him over some minuscule detail he thinks went wrong at that conference, but only because he dares not say out loud what truly bothered him.

Jin Guangshan is a man who openly lusts after any woman, but his taste for pretty boys and delicate men is where he draws the line for shame. Jin Guangyao finds him ridiculous for this, but in this case, it plays to his advantage and helps him protect Lan Xichen.

For weeks and weeks, Jin Guangyao continues that delicate balancing act, but the more time passes, the harder it is. There is just too much to think about lately, especially with Jiang Yanli approaching her term (the child will be born early apparently, and Jin Guangyao has suspicions… the idea must have come from Jiang Yanli, he thinks. Jin Zixuan is too awkward, too openly disgusted by his father’s behaviour, and more importantly too terrified of his mother). There’s also the continued headache of Wei Wuxian’s mysterious behaviour, the sect he may or may not have established in the Burial Mounds of Yiling. Jin Guangyao can’t get any information on that. The only cultivator to have been on the Burial Mounds since Wei Wuxian seceded from Yunmeng Jiang is Lan Wangji, who isn’t exactly the sort to gossip. And then, when he has a little time for himself, Jin Guangyao has allowed himself to chat here and there with the oh-so-lovely Qin Su who is always so happy to see him, and is so understanding when he has little time to devote to her. All this on top of his normal work of course.

There seems to be a lot more of that lately, too. Jin Guangyao would not ever accuse his father of punishing him for his interference regarding Lan Xichen, but it takes great effort to not think about it.

Jin Guangyao is starting to feel truly exhausted, but he just borrows medicine from the doctors to keep going, and prays that things will calm down when his father is given a grandson.

Two months before the planned date of birth (a little under a month before the actual, honest planned date), Jin Guangyao’s sworn brothers come visit him. They explain that they’ve been worried about him. Jin Zixuan, charming imbecile that he is, has written to them to say that his half-brother looks badly in need of a break, and surely Jin Guangshan won’t be able to deny him one if two sect leaders are here to demand his company, right?

Jin Guangyao, while very touched that his brother would care enough to do this, still wants to strangle him.

Without surprise, instead of Jin Guangyao being allowed to spend time with his sworn brothers, the two men are quickly swept away by Jin Guangshan to discuss new rumours coming from the Burial Mounds. Since Nie Mingjue is there, nothing should happen to Lan Xichen, but Jin Guangyao finds himself increasingly anxious. He’d thought his father was just on the verge of getting over his fancy for Lan Xichen after seeing so little of him recently, but this will just reignite that fire and ruin all his hard work.

Jin Guangyao is in his office, trying to get some work done, when Nie Huaisang drops by.

Worried as he was about seeing Lan Xichen near his father, Jin Guangyao hadn’t noticed that Nie Mingjue had brought his brother along. It’s unusual, really. Nie Huaisang doesn’t much like Carp Tower apparently, and always finds some excuse to be absent from events organised there. Jin Guangyao suspects that he just finds Jin tastes too tacky for his refined preferences.

“San-ge, here you are!” Nie Huaisang exclaims, closing the door behind him and running to Jin Guangyao’s desk. “You left so quickly earlier! And here I was so happy to see you again… it’s been too long, really too long!”

Jin Guangyao half smiles. “I’m very sorry. And sadly, since I didn’t know you were coming, I don’t have any present for you this time, so…”

Nie Huaisang gasps, one hand on his heart, then pouts in what he clearly must think is an adorable manner. “San-ge, I am offended! I don’t like you just for the trinkets you get me, you know! I just like when people are nice to me. And speaking of that…”

Taking on a conspiratorial expression, Nie Huaisang glances around as if fearful he might be heard, before leaning over Jin Guangyao’s desk until he’s all be sprawled over it.

“Jin zongzhu really is nice with Er-ge lately,” Nie Huaisang remarks, opening his fan and half hiding behind it. “Very nice indeed, isn’t he?”

It takes all of Jin Guangyao’s self control not to grimace. If even someone like Nie Huaisang has noticed… though at the same time, it might not be so surprising. Jin Guangyao has suspected for a while now that Nie Huaisang too looks a little too much at Lan Xichen, even if he hasn’t yet figured out the exact reason. Sexual desire is one option, but it could also be just admiration, or even envy: Nie Huaisang probably wishes he could have been born in Gusu Lan which better fits his interest.

Jin Guangyao has wondered, on occasion, why he can never seem to pinpoint Nie Huaisang’s motivation in doing certain things. If Nie Huaisang weren’t such a charming little idiot, it might worry him. Instead, he mostly ignores it. Nie Huaisang, in the grand scheme of things, is entirely irrelevant to Jin Guangyao’s life.

“Huaisang, are you perhaps jealous?” Jin Guangyao can’t help but tease.

Immediately Nie Huaisang makes a face, his expression far more disgusted than would have been expected.

“Jealous? Of not getting that old fart’s attentions?”

“That’s my father, Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao mildly objects, a little stunned. Nie Huaisang is rarely that open about liking or disliking anyone. His personality is too mild and easy going for any intense emotions.

“Some father he is,” Nie Huaisang retorts, lazily fanning himself, sending some of Jin Guangyao’s paperwork flying everywhere. “And don’t try to defend him, I know you hardly like him any more than I do. And I know you’re almost as unhappy as I am that he’s always looking at er-ge. I’m only mostly stupid, you know. I see what you’ve been doing, even if others don’t pay attention.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Jin Guangyao dryly retorts, pushing Nie Huaisang away from his desk so he can put some order back in his papers.

So he can put some order in his thoughts as well. To have been seen and understood by someone like Nie Huaisang is a discomforting experience. It means he really must have been transparent in his efforts. No wonder his father has been so unhappy with him lately… and that’s the only reason Jin Guangyao will consider, of course. It is all because of this situation with Lan Xichen, all because of his divided loyalty, or else Jin Guangshan would have mellowed before his efforts already.

Jin Guangyao should just give in and let Lan Xichen fend for himself. It is ridiculous to think of protecting a man like the great Zewu-Jun, anyway.

Jin Guangyao should just allow for events to follow their natural course.

He would, if he didn’t know his father’s tendencies.

“You know, it’s not the first time Jin zongzhu starts looking at someone high ranking that he shouldn’t be looking at,” Nie Huaisang casually says. “He likes to establish his dominance over others, if you haven’t noticed yet.”

Jin Guangyao freezes, and shoots Nie Huaisang a curious look. The young man shrugs and closes his fan with a sharp movement, before going to pick up some papers that flew further away from the desk.

“If there’s a sect that feels weak, he’ll try to take advantage,” Nie Huaisang says as he kneels down to grab the documents. “He can’t do it with Yunmeng Jiang, because if he touches a single hair of Jiang Cheng or worse, Jiang Yanli, Wei Wuxian is going to come down from the Burial Mounds and slaughter everyone. That’s the only reason he hasn’t touched her, and you know it.”

With a slight grimace, Jin Guangyao nods. The way his father looks as his own daughter-in-law sometimes is… well. It’s good for her that her brothers are so temperamental and powerful.

“He can’t go after the Nie sect, he’s tried before and that didn’t go well for him,” Nie Huaisang casually continues, turning his back to Jin Guangyao as he meticulously tries to organise the papers he’s gathered. “But the Lan sect… ah, they’re easy pickings at the moment, right?”

“I’m sure Lan Xichen can stand for himself,” Jin Guangyao politely replies. “Though your concern is very touching.”

“I know your father’s methods,” Nie Huaisang retorts, still keeping his back turned. “And I think you know them too, because I know who pays his victims for their silence. He still uses that same drug, eh? Well, if it works…”

Jin Guangyao shivers at the other man’s tone. Suddenly, Nie Huaisang doesn’t sound like his bubbly, hare-brained self, and more like a colder version of his brother.

It suddenly occurs to Jin Guangyao that Nie Huaisang really is too frequently absent from events taking place in Lanling, and that he often disappears quickly even when his brother drags him there.

It also occurs to him that with how often Nie Mingjue has complained against his brother’s reluctance, he cannot know what caused it. Nie Mingjue isn’t one to play pretend. He also isn’t one to let insults or attacks against his brother go unpunished. Nie Huaisang knows that as well. And with how powerful the Nie sect is at the moment, a danger even to Lanling Jin, it makes no sense for Nie Huaisang to have kept secrets if something happened to him recently. Not that anything could have happened without Jin Guangyao knowing anyway. Dealing with his father’s partners was one of the first duties he’s been given upon rejoining Lanling Jin after the war, he would have known.

Unless it happened before the war.

Nie Huaisang stayed an awful long time in Gusu for his studies, and while he can be charmingly stupid, he’s got a pretty decent memory and excellent manners, so studying in the Cloud Recesses should have been easy for him… unless he didn’t want to leave too early. Perhaps if he’d gotten in trouble with someone powerful, he thought that being stuck in Gusu would make it easy to avoid that person. But then, if something happened before that, Nie Huaisang would have been so young, only just…

Jin Guangyao shivers, and wishes he were more surprised. His father’s tastes aren’t unknown to him. He isn’t too picky with women, but he likes boys more than he likes men.

“Er-ge knows to be careful,” Nie Huaisang says lightly, standing up again, a cheerful smile on his lips. “I’ve told him about some of the things I’ve heard happened to pretty boys in Lanling. But he’s also the sort who doesn’t want to believe the worst of people, and anyway, sooner or later, his vigilance might slip. Besides, isn’t it awful, always having to be on your guard like that? Ah, it must be the worst. You would know, of course?”

“My father will soon have a grandchild,” Jin Guangyao replies dryly. “He’ll have better things to do than look at pretty faces. It’s just a matter of waiting.”

“Maybe he will, maybe he won’t,” Nie Huaisang snaps, dropping a pile of paper on Jin Guangyao’s desk. “I know what I’d bet on. And I know it’s not a risk I’m willing to take, anyway. I know what sort of a man your dear daddy is, A-Yao, and I don’t want certain things to happen to my er-ge. So if Jin zongzhu doesn’t keep his hands to himself…”

Jin Guangyao shivers again. A shichen ago, he’d have laughed if anyone had told him that Nie Huaisang would ever try to intimidate him. Now though, seeing that smile devoid of warmth that’s just a touch too sharp and the feverish glint in those delicate eyes, Jin Guangyao can’t help feeling some genuine worry.

“Huaisang, are you trying to threaten my father?” Jin Guangyao laughs.

“No. I’m threatening you, A-Yao,” Huaisang announces, dropping his smile. He really does look too much like Nie Mingjue when he’s serious. “Deal with your father, or I will. And we both know that I just have a few things to say to my brother to send him in a rampage. And if he’s that angry, do you think he’ll really care that you vaguely tried to help Lan Xichen?”

Jin Guangyao freezes at the thought. Nie Mingjue doesn’t like him even when he’s in a good mood, so there’s no doubt he wouldn’t feel a shred of hesitation before lumping Jin Guangyao together with his father. Depending on how Nie Huaisang frames the situation, Jin Guangyao really might look like an accomplice. Hasn’t he helped his father deal with his lovers in the past? He’s never been made to help get those boys and girls into Jin Guangshan’s bed, not yet, but being the one to keep them quiet after, isn’t it worse?

Nie Mingjue will surely think it’s worse, since it’s Jin Guangyao doing it.

“A-Yao, I’m really glad we had this little talk,” Nie Huaisang chirps, suddenly all smiles again, as if there had never been a single thought in that pretty little head of his. “We should chat more! But I know you are so, so busy, so I’ll let you be for now. Still, give this some thought, alright? And if you need help, don’t hesitate to ask. Maybe we didn’t make a big production of it like with da-ge and er-ge, but I’m your friend too!”

Happy and cheerful once more, Nie Huaisang leaves with a spring to his step.

Alone at his desk, Jin Guangyao presses a hand against his mouth to fight the nausea that an intense wave of terror is causing. That it was caused by Nie Huaisang, of all people, almost makes him break into hysterical laughter, or perhaps it makes him want to cry. The two are equally likely, and only the self control he’s learned in Wen Ruohan’s service prevent him from exploding in such a disgraceful manner.

And so, when he calms down at last, Jin Guangyao finds himself divided again.

Before, he had wondered who he was most loyal to, between his father and his one true friend.

Now, by contrast, he must decide who terrifies him most between Jin Guangshan and Nie Mingjue.

And he knows no matter the answer, blood must be spilled if he is to survive this.

#jin guangyao #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #tagging lxc because the fic is technically about him even if he's mostly absent oops #jau writes #Anonymous #but yeah legit I finished this in january I think #and I was convinced I had posted it already but turns out I hadn't ooops??

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