#they see that and assume it's some sort of farce
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the thing about dennis is that he is doomed to have to choose between a relationship with someone who doesn't know him, someone who doesn't love him, or someone who doesn't care about him.
#your guess who's who#wildcard thrown in there (random women)#ada speaks#i am indeed including both of my ships here#like being completely real here#he has hindered his relationships. but its to a point where i dont think he could ever break out of it on his own#and no one really cares enough to try to help#everyone who DOES know dennis still sees him as whatever persona he's crafted#and its to a point where if he is genuinely vulnerable with them#they see that and assume it's some sort of farce#he's trying to step on them. make them underestimate him. manipulate them in some way#or they'll see him as inhuman and emotionless or *deserving* of humiliation and take it as an opportunity to shame him#dennis is so. so fucking soft inside but he can't possibly hope to let the others see that now#not after this long#he's 47 years old. he's tired and lonely and sad and he's at a point where he does want to have genuine relationships#but how can you go about breaking down what you've spent years building#when all you have is a hammer and you know knocking out the supports means you'll be crushed under the rubble
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How they react when you're jealous
Ft. Wanderer (Scaramouche); Xiao; Zhongli; Childe; Venti; Albedo; Tighnari
(gender neutral reader but Childe refers to them as "princess"/"prince" once)
⭐ Wanderer
+ This man is actually insufferable, good-fucking-luck
+ He acts so smug 'cause of course you'd be jealous, he's revered and worshipped by the masses!! (he's not)
+ Will probably cockily tell you you'll just have to get used to it, he's a god afterall so it's expected that he'll have many loyal fans all vying for his attention—
+ It's all a farce
+ In reality, he's kind of in shock that you'd really be jealous over him, the useless puppet discarded by his own mother—but that's his unresolved insecurity and mommy issues talking
+ He'll keep up the façade and tease you for a while until he realizes you're genuinely upset—then he'll find some roundabout way to tell you that you have nothing to worry about, he only has eyes for you...of course he'll never directly admit that, though
"Hah, you're jealous? What a foolish human emotion—of course I'll be adored by thousands..."
The Wanderer cuts himself off as he takes in your tense form, brows furrowed and eyes looking anywhere but him as you quietly seethe. His chest clenches in that weird way it only seems to do when you're involved.
"Wait...don't tell me you're actually angry...?"
You don't show any signs you even heard his question and the Wanderer sighs dramatically, averting his own gaze to hide his reddening cheeks as he mumbles his next words.
"You have nothing to worry about, idiot...you're way above any of those other weaklings anyway."
⭐ Xiao
+ I'm sorry but he literally is incapable of understanding that you're jealous
+ Like...he can barely even process that you like him, let alone recognize the advances of another random human who is interested in him. The time he even spends with others is extremely limited unless you're involved so there aren't many chances for anyone to talk to him
+ If it's something like another adepti or half-adepti, like Ganyu, who he's been spending a lot more time with lately training, you might feel insecure by your own mortality, which Xiao can somewhat understand but still doesn't get the jealousy part
+ Tries his best to try to comfort you though, even if it means shyly asking Zhongli or Verr Goldet
+ Surprisingly ends up coming to the best solution—spending more time with you
You nearly jump out of your skin when you turn to find the figure of your boyfriend standing behind you on the balcony of Wangshu Inn. You're certain he wasn't there just five minutes ago.
"Huh? Shouldn't you be training Ganyu today...?" You ask, feeling slightly sick at the mention of the pretty half-adeptus girl. She was a sweetheart and a great friend but you can't help but to think about how much time she's been spending with Xiao. You're sure she doesn't have any ulterior motives but you can't help but to think about how much prettier and stronger she is compared to you. Surely Xiao sees it too...
"We agreed to take a break for today," Xiao immediately answers, slowly stepping forward until his cheat is nearly touching the back of your arm, so close you can smell the faint traces of his natural scent—something fresh and crisp like the mountain air.
"Instead...I want to spend some time with you—if you'll allow it." He says softly. You momentarily freeze, not used to Xiao initiating dates. Unperturbed, he continues speaking.
"I thought we could do that mortal activity you told me about before. I think it was called...a picnic?"
⭐ Zhongli
+ The god who has ruled over humans for over 2,000 years—of course he's familiar with such a common emotion like jealousy. Even if he himself has yet to experience it
+ He would never assume you were jealous unless you openly tell him about it
+ But then he's quick to assuage your worries and maybe even propose some sort of compromise that can satisfy you both
+ Spends a night absolutely spoiling you until you hardly remember you were ever jealous in the first place, if that's what you so desire
"Ah, it seems you may have misunderstood my relationship with the funeral director, I apologize if I caused you any discomfort," Zhongli tells you earnestly, gently holding your hands in his own, much larger ones and holding your gaze so intensely you find it impossible to look away.
"Now tell me, my dear, how may I settle your worries? Perhaps we should take some time away, just the two of us?"
⭐ Childe
+ Idk how you even got jealous in the first place cause this man is glued to your hip
+ Slightly flattered when he recognizes your signs of jealousy cause he just sees it as proof of how much you care about him
+ It may feel a bit demeaning at first but he will not take your jealousy seriously. He baby talks, pinches your cheeks, and teases you but will not show any genuine concern—not because he doesn't care about your feelings, but because he's so sure that he only has eyes for you that he thinks your jealously is completely unreasonable in the first place
+ As a big fan of PDA, he takes the advantage to be more touchy and affectionate with you in public under the guise of "showing everyone he's yours"
+ If anything, he's the one whose always jealous when another person takes so much as a second of your attention—but you don't need to know that
"Aww, is my prince/ss pouting now? Ahaha, don't look at me like that!" Childe effortlessly dodges the elbow you aim at his ribs after he pinches at the fat of your cheek for the third time today.
Not perturbed in the least, Childe sticks himself to your side and continues to grin down at you, uncaring of the strangers who glance at you two with strange looks as you make your way through the busy streets of Liyur Harbor.
"Here, how about I make it up to you and we go on a lunch date? My treat!"
⭐ Venti
+ Another one who doesn't take your concerns seriously
+ However, unlike most of the other men, it's pretty reasonable to be jealous with how Venti talks to everyone
+ He's naturally romantic and seems to possess no clear boundaries, leading to him saying things that could be construed as flirtatious without him even realizing it
+ When he's tipsy on dandelion wine, it's not unusual to see him belting out ballads and serenading anyone nearby willing to give him the time of day—though, in reality, his love songs are all actually written about you
"Oh, my windblume is feeling a bit jealous?"
You don't bother providing a response but Venti doesn't seem to need one.
"Ehehe, so cute," he coos, shamelessly wrapping his arms around you. Any feelings of jealousy you hold are quickly being replaced with embarrassment at how other patrons in the crowded bar frequently glance at you and your loud boyfriend.
"No worries, my love, this poor bard's heart only beats for you! I'll even prove it with this song I wrote..."
⭐ Albedo
+ It's Sucrose, isn't it?
+ They spend all those hours locked up in a small lab room in the depths of Dragonspine—its only natural that you'd feel suspicious right?
+ Wrong
+ When he's not with you, Albedo literally only thinks about his experiemnts or drawing. In fact, the times you and Albedo are together are really the only time anyone ever sees Albedo actually listen to someone outside of the Knights of Favonius and talk about things that aren't directly related to alchemy
+ As the so-called "chalk prince," it's not that uncommon for people to find him physically attractive and try their luck—but any deeper feelings usually vanish when they realize he has no interest in them. That and his blank stares can get rather unsettling...
+ If you do get jealous about Albedo being around anyone, it will eventually go away on its own as you realize this man is literally incapable of recognizing flirting
+ (Also, Sucrose is literally an angel and would never jeopardize your relationship. Like, she actively ships you guys together, pls—)
"...which is a particularly unique property for this chemical given it's electronegativity. In fact—oh, [Name], what are you doing here?"
You try very hard not to laugh at the relieved expression the woman Albedo was previously lecturing shoots you. She wastes no time slipping out of the lab while Albedo is distracted, his ocean deep eyes staring at you with a mix of surprise and quiet adoration.
"Ah, it's about lunch time and I don't have any commissions today so I thought we could go get something to eat together. Sorry if I'm disturbing you—"
"Not at all," Albedo interrupts, quickly putting away the glass vial he previously held and removing his latex gloves.
"A visit from you is never a disturbance," Albedo admits plainly, oblivious to the way his words make your chest squeeze.
"Now let's go. If we hurry, we might be able to make it to that place you like before they get crowded."
⭐ Tighnari
+ Lmao what are you jealous of, a flower?
+ This is another Science Man™�� who literally sees nothing but his work. Unless there's a rare sentient species of seductive mushrooms in Sumeru with it's sights set on fennec fox boys, you have nothing to worry about
+ Collei sees him as something akin to an older brother figure and Tighnari is too sassy for anyone else to get close unless they're interested in joining the forest watchers
+ If you tell him you're jealous, he's probably going to call you an idiot for even thinking he's interested in anyone else
Tighnari looks almost annoyed at your confession, glancing up from his journal only to shoot you a glare.
"Hah? Did you accidentally eat some hallucinogenic mushrooms again? I don't have enough time entertain things like that. What a ridiculous accusation."
Annoyance bubbles up inside you but, before you can act on it, Tighnari is already standing from his desk, striding over to you quickly to gently pull you along with him.
"Now come with me. I found an interesting flower on the outskirts of camp I think you'd like."
The proud grin highlighted by the sparkle in his eyes as he looks up at you quickly cuts off any protests you were going to make.
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#xiao x reader#zhongli x reader#albedo x reader#Tighnari x reader#venti x reader#childe x reader#genshin scenario#genshin imagine#genshin hcs#genshin fluff
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[🐚] eternity - neteyam x (metkayina) reader
I’ll be with you for eternity
[MAJOR SPOILERS]
✧ in which reader takes an interest in neteyam
warnings ✧ blood + angst + gunshot + violence + slowburn (kinda) + probably ooc neteyam
word count ✧ around 2.5k
[A/N] ✧ i was listening to say yes to heaven by lana del rey. so this fic is somewhat based on the song 🤭. ANYWAYS first fic and i love angst and death and neteyam so #whynot, also send in request bc im eager to write more for the new avatar characters !!! also did not realize how long this was…
#wrotethisinonesittinganditisnotproofreadwhatsoever
∘ ───♡༉─── ∘
Ever since the Sully’s arrived, the formidable village routine shifted; at least with you.
The Omatikaya family stood on the shore with courage and respect. Villagers of all ages surrounded them with interest, immediately beginning to judge their arrival. Your appearance came shortly after as you followed behind Tsireya, your closest friend in the reef, as you both disconnected your queues from your ilus, the Sully boys both watching in interest
Almost like a shadow to Tsireya, you stood behind her in the crowd, observing the dark blue Na’vis as you fiddled with your bracelets that covered your arms loosely. You eyed them up and down until you locked eyes with the eldest son. It felt as if a heart string was pulled, feeling your pulse pound at the miniscule interaction. His golden eyes stared deeply into your bright green eyes, almost an invitation to see who would back down. You squinted at him before turning away and disappearing into the crowd. Mindlessly, the elder son lifted his head up in attempt to follow your trail, but had lost you in the sea of heads.
A sigh escaped your lips while you made your way back to your ilu. She was a dark gray, almost black ilu with beautiful white markings. Tuhi, was her name. You smiled fondly at Tuhi, reminiscing on the significance of her name; your mothers name. She was taken so early from your life and due to what you considered, a mere sickness. You felt resentment towards Ewya. How could she take your mother? And how could the Tsahìk fail your family? Ronal was intimidating to say the least, but you had your grudges against her. Although you never confidied with Tsireya about your feelings with her mother, she had eased the pain you felt.
You held your hand to Tuhi’s face, rubbing the side of her neck. “Hey girl,” You took your hand and connected your queues, relishing the connection you had with your companion.
“(Y/N)!” You heard a soft voice call to you, just as you were about to take off.
“Huh..?” You turned around with confusion as you noticed Tsireya, motioning you over towards the mauris with her one free hand. In her other, she held a box of some sort, her farce adorning a warm smile.
You gave Tuhi a small pat and disconnected your queues while you waved a small goodbye. A light sigh fell from your lips as you made your way to Tsireya.
“What’s up?” You asked, folding your arms over eachother.
“I am showing the Sully’s around!” She beamed with excitement. Despite not knowing who are what the Sully’s are, you could only assume it was the new Na’vis.
“And what does that have to do with me?” you continued on, simply wanting to enjoy your time with your Ilu.
“Come assist me, Sister! I was given the duty to teach them our ways, and you know Ao’nung won’t be help.” She concluded, putting the box by her feet and grabbed onto your arm, pleading you with her eyes.
In the most dramatic way possible, you rolled your head over and managed to work out a very annoyed “fine”, despite there being a small smile on your lips.
You followed Tsireya as she gave a tour to Sully family, learning names along the way. The oldest girl, Kiri seemed to hate every second her time there, which you didn’t mind. Lo’ak, the younger brother in the family, was clearly infatuated with Tsireya the whole tour. Tuk, the youngest Sully, had an insane amount of energy, and for some unexplained reason you absolutely loved her. And Neteyam. The oldest Sully sibling, he easily was the most mature and whether you two would bump heads or get along was unclear, yet strangely, you loved it.
Neteyam’s eyes were traced on you during the small tour, the way your hair moved with each step and every clang of your beaded bracelets that went all the way up to your elbow, enticed him. Staring was rude, but he couldn’t help it.
∘ ───♡༉─── ∘
You, Tsireya, Ao’nung, and Roxto all dived into the water one by one. Tsireya taking a more graceful approach and you and the others just jumping right in. Free diving was peaceful and crucial to metkayina culture.
Easily, you and the others outswam the sully children. Their constant gasps for air and terrible form had led them to fall behind.
‘They’re terrible divers.’ Ao’nung signed as you smiled in amusement. Tsireya shot down the claim, signing back that, ‘ they’re learning’.
You watched the Na’vis at the surface while they tried making sense of Tsireya’s signings. Neteyam and Lo’ak eventually motioned for your group to come to the surface.
“Holy shit, you guys suck.” You laughed out, moving your hair out of your face. Slightly disappointed, Tsireya slaped your shoulder in retaliation, the Sully’s taking their turn to smile at your misfortune. You rubbed your shoulder while Tsireya began to formulate a new teaching strategy.
∘ ───♡༉─── ∘
As the days went on, you had warmed up to your new routine: wake up, train the sullys, adventure, go to sleep. It was so simple, yet so enjoyable. Teaching sessions had spilt up, you taking Neteyam, and Tsireya taking Lo’ak.
Tsireya showed Lo’ak compassionate and thoughtful ways of teaching, while you showered Neteyam with teasing and sarcastic (truthful) words.
“No! Like this. You breathe like this.” You demonstrated to the older boy, placing your hands on your stomach.
“Like this?” He asked, golden eyes staring straight into your own rather than your hands, his breathing staying the exact same.
“No! You don’t listen. You’re like a baby.” You spoke, forcefully grabbing his soft yet calloused hands into your own, directing them onto his stomach and chest.
Silence.
Realization dawned upon you with a mental note of your position. Neteyam simply looked away, as your eye’s decidedd to find interest in the sand below you. The intimacy of your smaller hands over his larger ones, and you leaned towards him was too much for you to bear. Neteyam, too felt embarrassment — maybe it was the silence.
“Um..” of course. Your voice cracked, sounding two octaves higher. Internally you punched yourself, attempting to fight off the wave of heat you felt rise to your cheeks. Neteyam turned his nervous gaze back to you, a smile creeping up on his lips in amusement. You raised your head up towards the Na’vi, bright eyes locking with his own.
“Just breathe..” you muttered out, your voice barely audible as both your heartbeats molded into one.
“You don’t need to be so scared…” commenting on his fast heartbeat, a mere attempt to shift the focus back onto your teachings.
And other times, you would simply push Neteyam into the water. Unannounced.
Him walking to his mauri after his father called? Pushed.
Sitting on the walkway with his feet in the water? Pushed.
Literally minding his own business? Pushed.
Neteyam called it torture, but you called it reality.
“A good diver should always be prepared to get wet!” You shouted to him with excitement when he resurfaced. Him annoyed, you amused.
Eventually, your teaching sessions became extended adventures, sometimes taking along Tuk because you couldn’t resist her. You had found a habit in carrying her everywhere for reasons you couldn’t understand.
You and Neteyam both rode on Tuhi throughout the reef, and despite Neteyam’s grip on your waist, you paid no mind as the scenery of your home took all your attention. You never got tired of the marine environment, even after all these years.
Neteyam’s eyes were locked on your side profile. He was such a starer, and yet he felt no guilt for shameless watching your every feature.
∘ ───♡༉─── ∘
“What’s it like?” You spoke softly, laying on your back as you mindlessly watched the stars.
“What’s what like?” Neteyam asked, his body parallel to yours.
“The forest.”
Neteyam blinked, head turning over to yours in an instant.
“You want to know about my home?”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“The stars. You can hardly see them at home with all the trees in the way, and at night time the forest has beautiful glow.” He turned his gaze back to the glowing sky, “My clan was known for its music and ceremonies, so there was never a night without dancing and laughter.” The fond memories of his home felt overwhelming, knowing he would probably never return to the place he grew to love.
A comforting silence fell upon the two, only the distant sound of waves crashing on the shoreline was heard.
“I want to take you there,” Neteyam spoke softly, sitting up from his lounging position.
“What?” You responded with confusion, turning your head to his. Neteyam grabbed both your hands and pulled you up to your feet with ease.
“Let me take you there.” He spoke confidently, your hands encased closley to his chest. Finally grasping what he was saying, you shook your head eagerly in compliance.
“Here. Dance with me.” He lowered your hands, his gold eyes staring straight into yours.
You slowly took your hands out of his grasp. “Metkayina’s hardly dance, only underwater..” you tilted your head to the side, adverting your gaze from Neteyam’s deep stare.
He grabbed your hands again. “Just follow me.” he moved his head back into you vision, a soft smile adorning his lips.
Hesitantly you nodded, allowing Neteyam to lead you in a traditional Omitkayn dance. The jangle of your bracelets and his own jewelry moved as one, almost as if harmonizing with eachother. Hands up, hands down, step back, twirl in his arms; everything about it was euphoria to both of you. Simultaneous laughters filled the air at every mistake, every mistep, every splash made on the alternating waves. The moonlight giving you both a glow as it reflected off the ocean’s surface.
“Neteyam! Neteyam..!” You ears perked, picking up on the voice calling for the Sully brother. Noticing Neteyam’s face drop in annoyance, you turned around, halting your nighttime dance.
“Ao’nung?” You squinted, confirming his presence. Neteyam let go of your hands and made his way towards the chief’s son.
“What is it.” He demanded, folding his arms over in irritation.
“Lo’ak. Me and my boys took him past the reef..” Ao’nung panted out, his body hunched over as he tried regaining his breath. Why he was out of breath? You haven’t gotten a clue.
“What.” Neteyam sternly replied, disbelief lacing his words.
“Past the reef.. he hasn’t returned and…”
“Skxawng!” You hissed, stepping towards Ao’nung. Sure, you and Lo’ak weren’t that close, and but any idiot would know better than to take him out the reef.
“You will tell my father about this.” Neteyam intentionally bumping shoulders with him as he passed.
Ao’nung felt guilt rise in him, as you grabbed him by the ear, dragging him behind you. Despite interrupting your dance, Ao’nung ignored whatever the hell you and Neteyam were doing.
∘ ───♡༉─── ∘
The events that would happen in the next few days were chaotic to say the least.
Lo’ak supposedly befriending Payakan.
And Kiri having a sezuire while connecting to the spirit tree only showed how fond you truly are of the Sully’s.
Rushing with Tsireya and the others to bring Kiri to the Surface. Holding Tuk in your arms to calm her down, and shamefully marveling at the protectiveness Neteyam displayed towards his siblings, something you’ve only had a glimpse of. And the arrival of Jake Sully’s human friends had you questioning your sanity.
‘So much.. skypeople stuff…’ you thought to yourself, finding an interest in Jake’s weird hand ritual and the mechanism that hovered over the shore, sending tsunamis of sand on the viewing villagers, including you.
And of course the arrival of the Tulkuns. More specifically your spirit sister.
The arrival had sent the village into a state of excitement, Na’vis of all ages jumping into the waters at the familiar blowhorn. The Sully’s on the other hand watched with confusion, no one had explained to them about what was happening and why thrillful cries filled the air. Splash after splash, the Metkayina’s met to reconnect with their spiritual families.
“It is time (Y/n)!” Tsireya yiped in excitement, grabbing your hand and pulling you behind her. Weaving through the village walkways, you both arrived at the Sully’s maori.
“Come!” Tsireya ushered the family out into the water, exchanging your hand for Lo’aks. In an instant they disappeared into the waters. You eagerly rushed to Tuk and carried her into your arms. Neteyam taking in the scene with fond eyes.
“The Tulkuns have arrived!” You smiled at her, exiting her home. Kiri stayed put in the floor, only moving after constant urges by Tuk.
“Come on!” You jumped into the water with Kiri and Neteyam following suit. Quickly you called Tuhi over, adoring her beautiful patterns. Connecting your queues, the four of you were off the see the Tulkuns.
Beautiful whistles filled the underwater world as you inched closer to the Tulkuns. You grinned widely once you caught sight of your spirit sister. Lightly tugging on Tuk’s arm, you signed to her, ‘There is my spirit sister! Her name is Mevewi.’ Disconnecting your queue and motioning for Tuk to ride with Kiri, you swam to your sister. Greeting eachother, she began to tell you of her troubles and you shared your current lifestyle with the Sully’s.
Ears perked in realization, you turned around, ‘Wait here!’ You signed, swimming back towards the viewing Omatikayas. You smiled as you made your way to Neteyam. Grabbing his hands, you pulled him through the water to face Mevewì.
‘This is Neteyam. We swim together,’ Neteyam bowed his head as Mevewì teased you and the Sully boy. Unbeknownst to Neteyam, Mevewì’s teasing caused you great embarrassment, but you relished the moment with her.
The inconsistency of emotions the village felt was like no other. One day everyone was celebrating, the next people rallied for war. Clouds, heavy with rain filled the sky on the bitter morning. Almost as if Ewya had a heart to mourn with you all.
Simply, an attack on Ro’a was an attack on the clan. You joined in with the chanting and battle crys, eager for revenge on the Skypeople’s ignorance. Much to your dismay, the immediate charge for war was shot down by Jake. Advising us to warn the Tulkuns instead, and the clan complied, most furious with the agreement.
In the midst of this outbreak for war, Neteyam grabbed your hand and ushered you away. He spoke no words as he led you on Lo’ak’s trail. You stayed silent on your trip, only following the taller boy while your mind was clouded with grief.
“No way you’re rolling out of here baby brother,” Neteyam spoke, letting go of your hand as he approached Lo’ak, Ilu saddle in hand.
“I’m going to warn Payakan. He has no one to warn him.” He replied sternly, fixing the saddle on his Ilu.
“No. You must stay here you skxawng.”
“He’s an outcast. He has no one else but me!”
Neteyam sighed, placing a hand on his head, “Why do you always have to make things so hard?”
Lo’ak quickly pushed his hand off, “You mean..” he started off hesitantly, “You mean why can’t I be the perfect little soldier like you?” Neteyam ushered back in disappointment, “I’m not you Neteyam.. I’m not you.” You watched as Neteyam exhaled, clearly annoyed with his outburst as he beginning to pace on the deck. A part of you wished Neteyam didn’t bring you here to witness the dilemma.
“He’s my brother!” Lo’ak motioned towards the sea, Neteyam only stopping his pace to practically size his little brother up.
Lo’ak swiftly turned on his heel, “Oh! Oh! He’s your brother?” Neteyam spoke with disbelief, his hands gripping onto his little brother’s arm, preventing him from going any further, “No. I’m your brother.”
And with a shake of his shoulder, Lo’ak dived into the waters, ignoring the arrival of Tsireya and the others.
Quickly moving into action, Neteyam called his Ilu, “He’s going to Payakun.” He informs the others before diving into the water, you following suit.
Before you knew it, the entire teaching group was after Lo’ak with the addition of Tuk and Kiri.
“Wait!”
“Stop!”
Wave after wave, you found yourselves eventually reaching the panicked Lo’ak, hearing his pleads for help as he tried pulling the tracker out of Payakun.
“Shit.” You whispered to yourself, climbing off Tuhi as you made an effort to get the beeping mechanism off the Tulkun. Pushing and pulling seemed to go down in vain, the group noticing the large vehicle approaching.
“Call dad.” Neteyam spoke, looking up as his brother as he tugged at the red marker. Lo’ak nodded and made the callout, noting the children he was with and the state of business.
Eventually the beeping machine was pulled off the tough skin of the Tulkun.
“Go! Go! Go! Swim away Payakun!” Lo’ak urged, hoping onto his Ilu after giving his spirit brother a few pats on the fin.
“Everyone go hide. I’ll take this and lead them away,” Neteyam spoke, holding the tracker in his hands. He nodded to you as he dove into the water with his own ilu. The rest of you guys dove down, temporarily finding security in the seaweed.
White lights seeped through the gaps of the seaweed, proving the hiding spot to be fruitless. the mechanical buzz echoed through the water as the group evaded capture. When Neteyam returned, the group had spilt up, taking seclusion in air pockets.
You found yourself with Tuk, the panicked little girl held onto you the second you made your appearance.
“Why are you alone?” You asked urgently, your voice echoing in the plant.
“I lost kiri!” Tuk responded, holding onto you arm tightly.
A sudden splash sent you and Tuk into a state of fear, a scream erupting from both of your throats.
“Tuk!” Lo’ak spoke, giving you a nod of acknowledgement. Soon another splash came, marking the arrival of Tsireya.
“It is coming!” Tsireya alerted the group, noting on the white light that glared on their legs.
“Alright!” Everyone took a deep breath before diving back into the water. You took the lead of the swimmers, ignoring the spotlight that kept you all in sight. Coming to a stop, Tsireya motioned you to swim the other way, another mechanicism making its way towards you. You nodded furiously before turning to swim in the opposite direction. Your endeavors proved to be unsuccessful, a net capturing Tsireya and Tuk. You followed suit with Lo’ak, taking out your handmade knife, trying to cut the girls free. You paused you actions as you watched two Ikarans dive into the water, swooping down to care the net airborne.
“Tuk! Tsireya!” You yelped, dangling off the side of the net, your fingers gripping onto the gaps.
“Hold on! Hold on!” Lo’ak began to hack away at the net with his knife.
“Hurry!” Tsireya called out, moving her and Tuk away from the cutting blades.
“Arrgh!” You groaned in fustration, only splitting one of the woven ropes in half. The wind that nipped at your skin came to a rest, notifying you of the ship’s presence. You felt your body jerk, the Ikaran releasing his grip on the net, leaving you all to fall to the ground. Making a quick recovery, you stood up, locking into a defense stance. Your blue knife blade was held parallel to you as you swung it bavk and froth. Lo’ak shared similar movements, his ears pinned back as he hissed.
“Put the knife down.”
“Give it up kid!”
“Come here.”
Voices of all kinds filled your ears and before you knew it you were held in a headlock by some oddly dressed Avatar. You bared you teeth over and over, attempting to free yourself by a simple act. What caught your attention was a human boy checking up on Lo’ak, perhaps you would ask him about that thing later. You winced at Tuk’s screams as the Avatar led you to a railing.
“On your knees.” He commanded, kicking the back of your knees in order to force you down. You watched helplessly as he cuffed you to the railing, the others falling helpless as they were cuffed as well.
“Are you alright Tuk?” You spoke softly over your shoulder, letting your arms go limp in the restraint. Your attention was then directed to the familiar crys, the appearance of your clan and the Sully parents left you in shock.
“Dad!” The little girl while tugging at her own restraints, a hopeful grin on her face. You and Tsireya exchanged glances, your people on the way to rescue you.
After Lo’ak’s communication device was ripped from him, a stalemate was ensued by both opponents.
“I’ve got your kids, Sully.” The leader Avatar spoke, standing infront of the line of arms.
“Tell your people to stand down.” He held a gun to Lo’ak’s head, you felt helpless against your restraints. “I will not hesitate to execute your kid.” The older Avatar gave you a mere look as you hissed at him, Lo’ak shooting you a look to stand down. Sucking up your pride, you listened to him. You knew Lo’ak probably had a better understanding of these deamwalkers. You huffed, turning your head to watch Jake make his way towards the boat.
‘Please Ewya..’ you had never begged to Ewya, not since your mother died, but now it was a time for desperate measures.
Almost as if on cue Payakun made an attack on the battleship, sending avatars and humans running amock. You eyes widened as Ewya seemingly answered your prayers.
“Payakun!” Tuk shouted, wtaching the Tulkan’s body land onto the deck with thud, destroying the ship in the process. You let out a cry for battle as your clan charged in towards the boat.
“Yes!” You yelled, raising your head towards the sky while Lo’ak focused on getting himself free.
“Come on!” He urgently pulled at the breaking rail, eager to escape confinement. Sounds of gunshots and war crys filled the air as you pulled onto the railing with Lo’ak.
“Neteyam!” Tuk alerted, watching as her older brother came to the rescue. You turned your gaze to the boy, feeling as if you were about to burst out crying at the sight of him.
“Hey guys,” he smiled, beginning to cut off the handcuffs we were put in, sending us free one by one.
“Yes!”
“Hurry up!”
“Are you alright?” Neteyam asked as he approached you, cutting the handcuffs off in a swift motion.
You opened your mouth, yet no sounds came out. Your emotions were all over the place, especially with Neteyam’s arrival, so you found yourself nodding to the Na’vi. He smiled at your efforts, raising hhis hand to ruffle your hair before returning to his self-made task.
“Oh come on, thank me little brother.” Neteyam teased as he freed Lo’ak.
“Let’s go, let’s go!” You urged, holding on to Tuk’s hand as you pushed Tsireya towards the water. You brushed your fingers against Tsireya’s arms, notifying her you were not coming. Tsireya noticed it as your signature way of saying goodbye. She turned to look at you with surprise, unable to argue with your decision.
“They have spider.” Lo’ak commented, picking up a gun as he glanced at his brother.
“Go you guys.” You gave Tuk’s hand to Tsireya as you wtached them dive into the water. Turning on your heel you crouched next to Neteyam, interested in Lo’ak mission.
“We can’t leave him!” Lo’ak concluded, leaving the pair as he began to search for “Spider”.
Neteyam exhaled, shaking his head as he turned to look at you, “Go! Get off the ship!” He commanded, standing up as he got ready to follow his brother.
“No.”
“What?”
“Teyem.” You grabbed his hand, his ears perking at the nickname, “If you fight, I fight. If you run, I run.” You affirmed, keeping your eyes locked with his own.
“(Y/N)..” He spoke softly, the world falling silent as he focused on you.
“Oel ngati kameie, Neteyam.” His jaw slightly dropped in surprise, your hand reaching up to hold it, forcing the words have a stronger meaning on you both. Neteyam nodded, an awestruck expression placed on his face as he met your hand with his.
“Let’s go.” He patted your hand and set off the follow his little brother, who he found to be watching the scene with a smirk.
“Skxawng.” He muttered underneath his breath in embarrassment as he walked past his brother, brushing shoulders. You followed suit, a small smile on your face.
The three of you found yourself climbing on the ceilings to avoid detection, Lo’ak and Neteyam watching for Spider. Soon in a charged assault, you all dropped down on a group of humans, taking them doen with ease.
“Bro!” Spider spoke, smiling after effectively de-masking a crewmate. Lo’ak returned the smile, but the reunion was cut short. Two of the Avatars began to open fire on you, bullets whizzing through the air
“Let’s get out of here!” You said pushing the boys to cover, grabbing a stray gun on the floor as you hid behind the wall.
Your ears kaid flat as you and neteyam peered out, the Avatars approaching you quickly. Being the older kids of your mini rescue squad, you and Neteyam urged the younger boys to run, Spider taking the lead as they dove into the water.
“Neteyam..” You panicked, the gunfire not ceasing.
“On the count of three we go!” He yelled, taking the gun from your hands.
“One!” You mentally prepared yourself for the run.
“Two!” You shook your shoulders as Neteyam shot back at the Avatars
“Three!” He yelled, taking your hand and leading you both to the water.
Strange. You had just prayed to Ewya yet it felt as if she was making you acknowledge the pain in your heart. The unnecessary hatred you had for her, for Ronal, hell, even your mom.
Being submerged in the water felt soothing to say the least, the adrenaline carrying you to the top as you held your chest.
“Teyem..” you voice came out as a whisper as the others celebrated, Tsireya even finding her way there to meet with the group.
You gripped onto Neteyam, feeling your body go weak as the adrenaline rush ran down, “Neteyam.” You spoke more firmly, your tight hold on Neteyam alerting him something was wrong.
“(Y/n)?” He turned around to face you as you struggled to keep your head afloat, even after holding onto the boy. The group watched as the waters turned a scarlet red, you being the source of it all.
Tsireya let out a scream of shock, immediately rushing to your side and calling her Ilu.
“She’s shot!” Lo’ak stated, rushing to hold onto Tsireya’s Ilu. Neteyam felt as if his soul had left his body, “No.. No! No!” He repeated, starting to put pressure onto your wound as you laid against his chest. You let out a scream, the feeling of your injury being touched sent you through a state of pain.
“It hurts!” Neteyam sucked in a breath as he pushed down harder, only causing you to scream more.
“You’re hurting her! Stop it!” Tsireya cried, not able to witness you being put in even more pain.
“Im sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Neteyam choked back on tears as he unwillingly put you into more pain.
Ewya was so cruel, but maybe, just maybe you deserved it. You treated Tsireya with snarky remarks, paid little to no respect to Ronal, and even your own father. You shut him out the second your mother died, so young and emotional. Why did he let you do that to him? Perhaps Ewya yearbed to teach you a lesson and the only was you could pay for your wrongdoings was meeting your great end.
The group of teenagers urged you onto a small, rocky island, the wave paying no respect to your body as it pushed you back and forth.
“Watch her head!” Neteyam repeated, still pushing onto your wound with heavy hands as you sobbed in pain. Eventually, your body was carried out of the water and laid onto the bumpy stones.
Neteyam taking his spot next to you, shouting to Lo’ak to change spots with him. Lo’ak did as told, his eyes suken in sadness as he placed pressure onto your chest. Your hands closed around his arms in an attempt to pull them off, not wanting to bear the pain. Your fruitless efforts brought tears to Lo’ak’s eyes, “I’m sorry..” He stuttered out.
Tsireya found herself by your head, she encased your head with her hands, her face torn in agony. “Ewya please!” She yelled, wiping your own tears away with her thumbs.
Your desperate pushes on Lo’ak ceased as Neteyam cried silently by your side. You sucked up the small ounce of pride you had left and spoke to no one in particular, “I want my mom!” You cried out, “Dad!” The teens watched you with sadness, “I’m sorry!” You yelled. “I’m sorry!” You closed your eyes shut, not wanting to see the pity your friends held over you.
Lo’ak , the boy who you learned to be a troublemaker, brought to tears by someone he had spent little to no time with.
Tsireya, the girl you had grown up with and sometimes given unnecessary rudeness even though she had saw you as her sister.
And Neteyam, the boy you had trained, the boy who promised to take you to his home, the boy who showed you how to love. Your eyes watered at the sight of him. This would mark the end of your journey with him, no more dances in the moonlight, quick adventures through the reef, or following him to reprimand Lo’ak.
You felt your hands reach up to touch all of them, fingers gliding against their arms, leaving streaky trails of blood. The teenagers watched your action with great sorrow, figuring this was your own, special (Y/n) goodbye. Tsireya choked, the gesture being a familiar one; whenever you would say goodbye.
Neteyam suffered in silence, your time was coming to an end and no one could help it. Ignoring the voices in his head, screaming no, he grabbed his queue. Lo’ak and Tsireya exchanged a startled look.
“Bro.” Lo’ak held his brother’s arm, stopping him from whatever he was doing. “Don’t do it.” The little brother spoke sternly, his now dry tears leaving glossy stripes upon his cheeks.
Neteyam cracked, his heavy sobs filled the air as his hold on his braid fell limp, “I want her, Lo’ak!” He choked on his tears as Tsireya watched the scene play out with woeful eyes. Spider’s hand fell onto Neteyam’s back, showing him an ounce of comfort. Neteyam reached to hold your face in his bloodly hands, taking Tsireya’s place.
“Teyam..” you muttered out, bringing your own hands against his, “I’ll be with you for eternity,” you winced, the pain practically becoming numb as you felt yourself slip. Neteyam looked down with sad eyes, his tears splashing onto your face, mixing with your own. Without thinking, The oldest Sully brother crashed his lips against yours, muffled noises coming from his mouth, unable to conceal his weeping. Only for a second did you return the gesture, you body falling limp in the teenagers hands.
“(Y/n)?” Neteyam broke the kiss, inspecting your lifeless eyes.
Tsireya screamed in realization, turning towards Lo’ak as she buried herself into his shoulder, bawling with grief. Lo’ak lifted his hands from your wounds and engulfed Tsireya in a comforting hug, painfully watching his older brother.
Neteyam felt the way your body temperature dropped, your skin growing cold on his palms. He shakily exhaled, his mouth opening as if he were to scream, byt no sound came out. Neteyam stared at your lifeless eyes, and with a blink of his own golden orbs, he pulled his bloodied thumbs over your eyelids. He felt his lips quiver into a frown as he tried to fight his cries, still wanting to be the strong older brother for Lo’ak. And despite his efforts, he felt himself cry even harder as the realization set in. He wept as he laid his forehead against yours, his own tears gliding down your face.
“I see you, (Y/N).”
∘ ───♡༉─── ∘
Ewya. Everything had linked back to the all seeing god. She predicted and she chose. This time, she had chosen your unexplainable hatred to be repaid with you returning back to her.
The burial marked the ending of your life as (Y/n). Only Ewya knew where the waters would take you once your body sunk to the floor. Neteyam earning a spot in your burial next to your dad and Tsireya, pushed your body through the waters, each of you wearing parts of her signature bracelets.
The clan watched in sorrow as Neteyam choked back tears, watching your father take you down to the bottom of the Cove. You never introduced your father to Neteyam or vice versa, but the pain you both shared created a sense of comfort.
Neteyam’s cries were shown as bubbles escaped from his lips while he watched your body disappear on the seafloor. Tsireya, in a effort of comfort, gave Neteyam a side hug, which he returned only after watching your last strand of hair disappear into the glowing plants.
Essentially, everything Ewya stood for resulted in eternity. Eternal peace, eternal love, eternal forgiveness. Everything eternal lasted forever in Ewya’s eyes, and even if something proved to be gone, Ewya would find a way to wrap it up in the loop of endless beginnings.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s what you had really meant when you told Neteyam you would be with him for eternity.
#avatar#atwow#xreader#neteyam#angst#character death#neteyam x reader#neteyam x you#avatar x reader#atwow spoilers#atwow x reader#lo’ak#tsireya#jake sully#neytiri#major spoilers
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For the AU Five facts game
Henry is participating in a ‘win a date with an eligible Batchelor’ charity auction. Alex is bidding on Henry, not because he wants to win but because he can tell it is annoying Henry and Alex finds it hilarious.
First of all, making a pitch for you to read Going Once, Going Twice by @three-drink-amy if you haven't already! It's not quite this but there IS date bidding and I think you'd really enjoy it, I sure as hell did.
ONE: Never in a million years could Henry have fathomed this being allowed by Buckingham, let alone suggested by them. He can only assume that word of the sheer volume of NDAs he's managed to have signed at Oxford has made its way back to Her Majesty, and she's decided that the prospect of dozens of rich heiresses financially competing for a dinner date with him will publicly assert his unimpeachable heterosexuality.
TWO: He sees June first, and wonders briefly if Alex is also one of the victims subjects of this godforsaken auction—but then someone moves, and there he is, hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey and smiling just as bright and beautiful as he was the first time Henry ever saw him. To this day Henry isn't entirely sure what it is about his existence that infuriates Alex so much, but last time they saw each other Alex threatened to throw him in the Thames, so he doubts much has changed between them.
THREE: The first bid Alex makes, Henry is absolutely certain, is a joke. He's saying something to his sister, gesticulating wildly as he does, and he's not looking anywhere near the stage until the auctioneer says ten thousand from Mr Claremont-Diaz and Alex's face snaps up. He opens his mouth, clearly to argue, but then Vicount Crosby's eldest daughter raises her hand and bids eleven thousand. So it's fine. Except. Except. Henry makes the terrible mistake of looking relieved right as Alex looked at him, and... well. His eyes narrow, and his chin tilts, and this time when he raises his hand it's bloody deliberate.
FOUR: Do the First Children get some sort of government stipend? Is that what's being spent on this? Is Alex going to go back home and submit a bloody expense report saying that he spent twenty two—no, twenty four—no, twenty six thousand pounds on dinner with a man he's made no secret he despises? If he could get up and leave without being raked over the coals for it later, he would. He doesn't understand what Alex is doing. (He also, briefly, dimly, registers that if Alex actually wins this ridiculous thing his gran will be furious, and that's almost enough to make up for the fact that Henry knows he's the victim in some sort of elaborate practical joke right now.)
FIVE: After Alex wins (because of course he bloody wins) Henry tries to assure him that he's not actually expected to go through with the farce of a date, and Alex actually scoffs. "After what I spent I expect to be fucking wooed, sweetheart."
[Send me a potential AU and I’ll tell you five fun facts that would happen in a story.]
#au five fun facts game#ask meme response#nerdyfangirl76#finishing off the last of these this evening but I'm convinced Tumblr has eaten a couple#Which is the universe telling me to chill I guess lmao
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ficletvember 2023 - day 27
gascon/villem, background meve/reynard
Gascon's impulsive, mischievous dedication to the crown prince at a tournament leads to something vulnerable between them.
content warning for referenced past underaged sexual assault. also, this assumes gascon's canon age is correct so in the context of this fic villem is ~18 and gascon ~19.
It's a whim at a tournament that starts it off.
It’s the sort with jousting and duels and girls hanging off balconies to toss their favours to preening knights, who in turn loudly dedicate their brawls to ladies of their choosing.
Lyria's treasury has been stretched thin the past year by the efforts of rebuilding the war-torn land, so the affair is less grand than it may have been. But there is dancing and feasting and spirits are high. It has been a full year since the Peace of Cintra restored liberty to Lyria, and its people are intent on celebrating appropriately.
Reynard stands stiffly at the royal dias before the start of a round of duels and solemnly dedicates the very breath in his lungs to his Queen. Publicly, the pair are so coy and bashful about their apparently secret courtship that their endearment with one another is all the more obvious.
The Queen leans over the wooden railing and tucks her handkerchief into the collar of his gambeson, her fingers lingering a moment to inspire the hard bob of his throat.
The crowd titters and coos, but the couple seem unaware, caught up in one another.
Gascon wishes someone would come up behind Meve and push her, so they’d just publicly lock lips already instead of drawing out the farce, as though they don’t sneak into one another’s beds after dark.
He’s pleasantly tipsy and feeling mischievous and trips over himself to hurry to the dias, though partway there he changes his mind about publicly assaulting the Queen and decides on making his own scene instead.
He gestures to Villem at his mother’s side and begins a spiel similar to Reynard’s dedication but brazen in its affected melodrama. The prince sits placidly with his hands folded in his lap, his golden curls tousled by the breeze, but as Gascon’s speech goes on, dedicating his left toe and his earwax and his solar plexus to the prince, the boy’s cheeks go pink with the attention.
Or maybe just with the wind. But for a moment, Gascon looks, and he sees how Villem’s beauty echoes Meve’s, though he is feather-soft to his mother’s hard edges.
He's never considered the boy like that before. Never thought much of him at all. The crown prince has a peculiar propensity for disappearing into the background. In another life, he could have been a good bandit, Gascon thinks, paying him very close attention now.
Maybe it’s the drink or some spirit of the gathering, but when Villem rises to approach him and offers out his own handkerchief, gratefully appearing amused over his antics rather than offended, Gascon bypasses the scrap of a snot-rag to kiss his offered hand.
The boy’s wide-eyed surprise and the part of his lips inspires a strange urge to see him look that way again, to fluster and bemuse him, to hold his interest. Their fingers brush as he accepts the fine silk and stuffs it into his belt to flutter in the breeze.
Despite having little in common and no reason to linger on thoughts of the prince before then, Gascon’s eyes return again and again to the royal dias. Each time, he finds Villem watching. Owing to his distraction and general disinterest in sweaty, formal brawls where biting is soundly discouraged, he’s thoroughly knocked out of the tournament in its first round.
Villem stands to applaud him even so, his eyes bright.
Gascon thinks, tread lightly, you no good scoundrel, Meve’d have your head.
An open air banquet follows the tournament. He promptly drinks an ill-advised quantity of ale directly from the foaming tap of a cask and ignores his own warning. Courtesy and decorum and good sense ignored, he stumbles to plop himself on the bench beside Villem at the royal table.
He leans precariously into the boy’s space and makes some crude comment about his freshly-dedicated possession of his little toe, curious of Villem’s response, and is dumbfounded when it is the prince who touches a soft hand to his thigh beneath the table and suggests they slip away early.
Even drunker than he’d like, Gascon is an expert in sneaking unnoticed into the dark, and Villem, for all his princely air, has spent much of his life overlooked and disappears just as easily.
They make it just as far as they need to, sequestered down an alley between tournament tents.
Gascon is surprised once more, when it’s Villem who reaches for him first, who leans to kiss him with hands framing his hips. The prince is perfumed-sweet and warm and suddenly far broader through the shoulders than Gascon can recall. Had he always been a hair taller? Who had taught him how to kiss deeply with such confidence and skill?
He pulls back a moment, breathing heavily, and stops Villem’s bold hands as they unlace his trousers. Even in the dark, he sees the prince frown, inquisitive, and when he asks, Gascon must confess his most unlikely secret.
That for all his lewd bravado and years of seemingly debauched banditry, he’s never done such a thing before. He’s had his share of kissing and groping, of course, but never more than that.
Well, he had once-- in a way, though he tells the tale with trepidation. Villem frowns more deeply as he whispers, and his hands slip around Gascon's waist to quietly hold him. He’d been only two years an orphan, working a stone mill for some sour old bastard who came back from the tavern one night and–
Gascon scoffs at Villem’s sad eyes and assures him the bastard learned his lesson. Never done the deed since. He does not say that the miller only met his dagger years after.
It’s all very maudlin and dull, so he leans up to resume their kissing. Villem stops him, touches his mouth to his brow instead, soft hand at his jaw as he assures him that such a violence can hardly be measured on the same scale as more pleasurable pursuits. At Gascon's doubt of Villem's personal knowledge of such things, he recounts his varied and elaborate experiences at temple school.
Always suspected they were sordid places of debauchery, says Gascon, who thinks how at thirteen, Villem’s first giggling tumble with an older boy at school had coincided neatly with Gascon’s first kill at the same age.
Surrounded by revelry, he’s had ample opportunities for rolls in the hay but always found ways to weasel out of suggestive conversations, never overly taken with anyone enough to consider more, never trusting even his Strays in that way. Not for something so vulnerable.
How unlikely, to confess such a closely held thing to a boy he barely knows. Perhaps they put something in the ale. More unlikely still is that Villem responds with sober sincerity and sworn promises whispered against his hair. That if he were allowed to do so, he would demonstrate to Gascon how pleasurable vulnerability could be.
They stand there together and the moon slips out from the clouds, and Villem's arms don't feel smothering around him and they kiss there for a long while, ignoring that the spill of moonlight no longer hides them away from wandering eyes.
No one encounters them together that night nor the many nights after.
And none would suspect the dynamic that unfolds behind closed doors. The unseemly bandit undone by Villem’s praise-heavy whispers, uncalloused fingers tightening in his curls as Gascon kneels at his prince’s feet and warms through his whole body over the repeated pleasure-drunk slur of good boy, just there, good boy.
It’s a whim that starts it but certainly no whim that sees it go on and on.
#my fic#ficletvember#gascon x villem#thronebreaker#i'm very taken with the thought of them but this has got a smidge of a twist in it#i contain multitudes and swing wildly between detesting gascon's canon age and accepting it
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Winning Favor - Jamil Viper x Reader
Have this WIP I’m never gonna finish. :3
Premise: Jamil is playing all sort of games--only one of them being mancala.
~~~~~
The marbles clatter into the divots, the last landing in the pile that is my well. My opponent presses a knuckle to his lips, those dark eyes scanning the board. I know it’s a farce; from the beginning I’ve had this feeling that I’m being played. It doesn’t matter that I’m winning, he’s completely in control of this game.
How would I know this? Well, because I may have a mild obsession with Jamil. I found some interest in him when we first met over the holiday break, but when he exposed his true self—someone with dreams and desires—I felt the magnetism. I wanted to see more of him that didn’t involve trying to strand me in the dessert and make a connection. And I did, finding someone I genuinely have an interest in.
With a clack, the final marble falls into my well. The boy across from me folds his arms and sits back.
“Looks like you win again,” he sighs. He catches my glare. “What?”
My face is wiped clean of my suspicion. “Nothing. This game is closer than I expected.” Four at a time, the marbles fall back into separate divots.
He hums his agreement, distributing those from his well. “Two each; this last one decides it.” A gesture signals from me to begin.
Still scrutinizing my opponent’s choices, I make the first move. Glass gems fill the silence with their clacking, meanwhile, my thoughts are only half in the game—yet I’m still winning. With half the gems claimed by either side, I finally think it’s time to make a real move.
“Why are you doing this?”
Brows furrow together. “Doing what?”
“I know you’re throwing this game.”
The marbles fall into place. “Why would I throw a game?”
“That’s what I wanna know.”
My hand hovers over the board, but my focus lies elsewhere. Rather than take my next turn, I fold my arms and look him dead in the eye. My move puts apprehension on his face.
“You only use your sly tricks to lose as a tactic to curry favor—when you’re after something.” It’s minute, but tension takes his muscles. “But what could you possibly stand to gain from me?”
It’s miraculous how well he’s keeping his composure under accusation. “Bold of you to assume you have something I want.”
“That’s what I would say, if it weren’t for this terrible charade you’re trying to woo me with.”
There it is. It’s quick as a flash, nearly undetectable: his breath hitches in his chest.
“Charade?” I repeat, trying to elicit the same reaction. No dice. “Woo?” Oh there it is again. “Woo?!” Despite being cornered, he holds on fairly well. Meanwhile, I’m losing my mind. “You’re trying to-Wha-Why?!”
His straining composure breaks into a WTF expression. “What do you mean why?!”
“Jamil! I-You-How-“ How the hell do I finish any of these train-wreck thoughts?
The mask of complacency falls back into place, the only remnants being the slight embarrassment hidden in his tense face. “Look, forget it. Can we just finish our game?”
My gaze drops down to the little wooden board. I don’t want to finish the game; I want to finish the conversation. Admittedly, it probably isn’t my best decision when I flip the game out of the way, scattering marbles everywhere.
“Hey!”
Lunging at the boy, I shove him to the floor and hold him down.
“Wh-Get off me!”
“What are you doing?!”
“What am I doing?! What are you doing?!”
My fists clench around his jacket. “Are you throwing a game as a means to flirt with me?!”
His composure has yet to recover. “N-No!”
“Don’t you dare lie to me.”
My warning sinks in, his resistance faltering. For the first time since his overblot, there’s vulnerability in his expression.
“I didn’t mean to.”
That honesty grips my gut.
“I don’t know what it is about you, but I want you all to myself—your attention, your gaze, your smile, all of it. I know it’s selfish and I know someone as amazing as you is better suited to Kalim, but I can’t help it.”
I soak in his words, excitement simmering in my chest. “First off, don’t you ever imply that you are beneath anyone ever again. Got it?” His grey eyes just stare in shock. “Second, be selfish.”
His mouth falls open. “What?”
Quirking my lips is a smile. “Go on. Tell me what you want.”
“I shouldn’t—’
“No no no. Not what you should or shouldn’t do; what do you want to do?” Gentle fingers caress his face. “Just say it.”
The tension in his entire body just melts beneath me in submission. “I want to go on a date with you.”
Giggling, I let my thumbs run circles against his cheeks. “Ooo, a date. At the Monstro Lounge?”
His composure returns. “Absolutely not.”
“Fair enough,” I laugh. “I can’t wait.”
He does not know what havoc that smile is wreaking on my heart. “Me too.”
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Monday grind.
Lesson for today is to never assume that people will have the same level of promiscuity as I do, less I intend to be some sort of a manic, sex-starved son of bitch.
The problem with me is the assumption that when people (esp guys) are nice towards me, comes that margin of sexual tension. Which is by all means, farce.
I realized this error when a friend wrote something about sexual abuse, regardless if this is physical or verbal AND sadly aggravated when family or friends does nothing to stop it, seriously scars the person for life.
Case in point, convos about sex. Although my history in Tumblr is clean and never met people for hookups, I admit, lapses in judgment when simple chats ended up in undiluted flirting. Of course I met a couple of people here and treated them out for a good dinner and thankfully it ended there - well except for one who became sort of a "regular" but the sum total of previous chats exchanged, made me cringe and hate myself totally for saying stuff like...
"anakan kita gusto mo?"
"sampalin kaya kita ng tite ko?"
"pokpok. bigaon. malandi ka"
"masikip ka pa ba?"
What has become of me? I know we are made of human flesh and frailties but seeing people as outlets to release steam is just selfish on all ends.
I have a lot in my head to unpack, but the kernel of this post is to correct myself (rebuke even) to change the way I see things, most especially, dealings with people.
Dapat safe space lagi, diba?
So there, I peeled another layer of my skin and hopes this practice of "assuming" stops. Because at the end of the day, people were created wonderfully in an image that deserves respect in tangible and verbal ways.
Ps. I apologized to this friend and he was utterly surprised with the approach. Hindi nan daw Ako yun. Pero No excuses, I tell myself. Peace of mind is paramount to me.
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for the pairing ocs with Ghost prompts ! 👏
a villain oc for the sake of toxic yuri propagation
Solstice, a very big white scaled lizard princess. Has strong telekinesis. Her deal is attempting to seize the throne from her sister.
(( the royal lizard aliens living in a space station off their home world, use strong animals and beings to power their technology like batteries. ))
Solstice represses a lot of herself she finds immature. At her most aggressive, can behave/maintain an image like she’s completely composed. Definitely lies to imply she’s respectable.
This took awhile to finish but I did have fun writing it. And I hope I did Solstice justice and that you enjoy this.
Ghost woke to find herself in a bad situation. The fact that she was in a location that she did not know or even remember going to was worrying enough. Even if the setting was grand looking. A dining room it looked like. The floor a magnificent ivory color so shined that Ghost could see her still groggy reflection on the floor.
Her reflection showed the other trouble she was facing. She was seated in a chair placed at the very end of a long, wooden dining table. Both the chair and table were very fancy looking one as well. Both made of deep red wood. The chair had a burgundy colored plush back and seat. It would be lovely if not for the fact that her arms were bound to the arms of the chair.
That woke Ghost up more. Naturally her first thought was to try to use her weapons or any other tools that were a part of her. She found that no matter how hard she tried that nothing would work. More and more worrying.
With a fear starting to reach her, Ghost started to struggle. And struggled with her bonds as best as she could. But both chair and rope were made of stronger material then they looked. And she was still trapped when she heard a voice.
"You've woken up. Good. We have much to discuss."
Ghost jolted, startled. And she was amazed that she had been startled when she saw the owner of the voice.
A type of female lizard alien, bigger then Ghost. And a bright white color. It made Ghost think of someone who used too much tooth whitener. How she had missed this beings presence with how bright and big they were Ghost did not know. But there were there.
Her captor, at least Ghost was assuming this was her captor. They certainly didn't seem to be bothered to see someone bound to a chair in front of them.
The fact that this being towered over her was a bit more intimating then Ghost would had liked. More so considering she was bound and could not fight back if this being decided to try and harm her. Ghost assumed that immediate harm wasn't the plan considering she was alive currently. But she was aware of how fast that could change.
That did not stop Ghost from snapping out a threat.
"Okay. You have ten seconds to let me go or I promise that when I do get free I WILL make you some new holes." Ghost snapped.
To Ghost's annoyance the lizard laughed. A almost practiced and regal sounding one. Ghost could see herself really hating that laugh if she had to hear it much more.
"That's almost cute." the lizard said.
Ghost already hated this lizard. Ghost was about to reply with another threat when she heard doors opening. Servers had enter the room. At least Ghost assumed that's what they were. They were wheeling in dining carts with plates of food. The servers were also of the lizard type. And if they were bothered by the bigger lizard being having a captive they did not show it.
Food was placed onto the table. Why they had bothered to put food before Ghost when she couldn't use her hands was a mystery to her. It felt sort of twisted. Like this fancy dinner was all some farce to mask something nasty that was brewing. Making Ghost worry more.
The lizard had seated herself on the opposite end of the table. Looking still so calm about the situation. Before Ghost could say something the lizard spoke.
"It's nice that we finally meet face to face." the lizard said.
Now that was even more worrying. The suggestion that the lizard knew who she was. But Ghost had absolutely no idea who she was. Ghost made that latter point known.
"I don't even know who you are!" Ghost cried.
The lizard blinked. Clearly confused at the idea that Ghost did not know them.
"Truly? Oh dear. In that case I'll use this moment to educate you."
Her captor stood tall, a regal and elegant air to her pose. Once more feeling like a action that she did so often that it was practiced.
"I am princess Solstice." her captor told her.
There was a pause. Ghost felt like Solstice was looking for some sort of shock or awe.
"Never heard of you." Ghost said. "And honestly I don't care."
That seemed to bother her captor, Solstice frowning slightly. If Solstice had been expecting Ghost to be impressed to be in the presence of royalty she was just going to have to be disappointed.
"You will care soon enough." Solstice said as she sat back down.
To Ghost annoyance Solstice picked up her fork and ate a small portion of her food. As if this whole situation was only secondary to her eating.
"What is this about? I want to know why I'm currently tied to a chair you know." Ghost said.
Solstice finished her bite of food before answering Ghost.
"To the point I see." she said.
"Yeah, I am. But I think you might already know that." Ghost said.
Solstice smiled.
"You would be right about that. I suppose I can answer your question now. To get to the point, you are to be my wife." Solstice declared.
Ghost let out short, harsh laugh at that. A unusual response to being told such a disturbing thing.
"Oh please. I'm so out of your league." Ghost said.
That comment bothered Solstice. Ghost could tell from the slight narrowing of the eyes. That only made Ghost smirk in response.
Beyond that slight sign of annoyance though, Solstice didn't seem to take the bait to her temper any further. Instead she started to take another bite of her dish.
Ghost had to admit that the food that had been in front of her looked very good. Not that she would eat it even if she could. For all she knew it could be drugged.
"I don't understand why you would even want me as your wife. We've never even met." Ghost said.
"No. We have not. But I have seen videos of you in actions." Solstice explained.
Oh, like that wasn't creepy at all.
"Okay, you know that's creepy, right?" Ghost asked.
Solstice shrugged.
"I consider it keeping a eye on my possible options." Solstice said.
That sentence suggested that Solstice had been watching multiple beings. That thought made Ghost's fur crawl more.
"You sure know how to make a girl feel special." Ghost said.
Solstice ignored Ghost's comment.
"I decided that you would be a strong consort. And a queen one day once I do take the throne." Solstice said.
Ghost rolled her eyes.
"I'm not interested in your royalty drama." Ghost snapped. "And I'm also very much not interested in being your consort or anything else. You can't make me."
Ghost would had thought that her declaration would upset her captor. At the very least get a frown from her. Instead Solstice smiled. A cold, knowing one.
"I think I can. Because I have something that you care about." she said.
Ghost snorted in reply to this.
"Oh really? And what is it then huh? I think you're just bluffing." Ghost snapped.
Solstice smiled again. This time there was a edge of viciousness to it. Without even a word a holo screen sparked to life in the middle of the table. The sight and sound on that screen made Ghost's blood run cold.
It was Antauri.
He was secured in a much stronger looking set up. A sort of pod with various metal bands and cuffs keeping him in place. Ghost could only guess his powers and weapons had been turned off somehow too.
Ghost didn't know what this pod was or what it was doing to him. All she knew from his writhing and screams was that he was in pain.
"Stop! Stop hurting him!" Ghost cried.
She was struggling wildly in her bonds now. Enough that the chair started to tip over. Ghost braced for hitting the floor but that never happened. Her chair stopped falling mid air and carefully adjusted back to no longer falling. Ghost was confused until Solstice spoke up.
"Telekinesis is useful, isn't it?" Solstice said with a smug grin.
As if knowing that Ghost would not be able to focus on the conversation as long as Antauri was in pain, whatever the pod had been doing to Antauri stopped. Antauri finally stopped screaming. He barely moved though, recovering from what ever had been happening to him.
"What did you do to him?" Ghost asked, voice shaky.
"The quickest way to describe it was that he was being used as a battery." Solstice explained. "This whole ship is powered by beings that make good batteries. Your brother was very helpful in powering the kitchen."
Ghost stared in horror.
"You.. you horrible, twisted bit-" Ghost said, on the edge of a threat and swear filled rant.
"I can have dessert made." Solstice said coldly.
Ghost's mouth snapped closed at that.
"Now, I think you know what this show was. A threat to let you know what will happen to your brother if you do not agree to my plans." Solstice said.
Solstice stood, the holo screen now shutting off. She approached Ghost and for the first time touched Ghost. Gripping her chin in a possessive way.
"Well?" Solstice asked.
Ghost managed to tear her fearful gaze away from the screen and look towards Solstice. She didn't bother to hide her anger. Though she controlled her voice somehow.
"You have to agree to let him go." Ghost said firmly.
Solstice nodded ever so slightly, expecting this.
"I can't just let him go yet. Not until after we have a contract signed and the wedding happens. And of course the contract will also have the stipulation if he or anyone else try to take you away any point, that we will attack Shuggazoom."
Ghost felt like there was a cold pit in her stomach. It wasn't just her brother now that could suffer in this whole thing. Shuggazoom would be in danger if Ghost were to be rescued from this scenario. Ghost's fists clenched at how very thorough her captor was being.
"I also want it while you're keeping my brother that he isn't harmed in anyway, and treated well." Ghost said.
"Of course, anything else?" Solstice asked.
"And no using him as a living battery ever again." she added in firmly.
"Hmm, all that is fair enough." Solstice said. "Then you will agree to the marriage."
Ghost felt a lump in her throat, trying to form the word that he had to say. That she had no choice but to say.
"Yes." was all Ghost said. She was unable to force herself to say anything more.
Solstice smiled in a way that actually did seem genuine. Too bad it was at Ghost's clear misery.
"Wonderful." Solstice said. "I will have the contract drawn up immediately. And the moment you sign it we'll start talking wedding plans."
Ghost felt herself sag in her bonds. She was somewhat glad there she was seeing Antauri in a video screen and not in person where he could hear this conversation. Ghost knew her sibling well enough to know that he would tell her to not do this. That he would be okay.
And Ghost would had had to ignore those pleas.
Solstice had already sent for the one that was to draw up the contract. As Ghost sat there, Solstice fixed Ghost with a please smile once more.
"I already have some thoughts for your wedding dress."
Ghost did not reply.
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Hej Hej! I wonder what do you thinking about Wille sexuality? I hear some people is saying he having sex with boy before Simon. I love your fics so I ask you. Wille seem to me like he never have sex with someone until he was seeing Simon on the bed. But maybe he was kissing boy?
Hej hallå! Sorry about the delay on getting back to you on this, precious anon! Brains are complicated. Anyway! I'm so happy you love my fics! That means so much to me that my words bring others joy.
What do I think about Wille's sexuality? My personal headcannon is that he's demi, in both romance and sexuality. I think personally he hasn't really thought about being in a relationship before because he's just trying really hard to be normal instead of being royalty.
What I want from the show is that Simon and Wille are each other's firsts because to me, that's sweet and romantic.
The feeling I get from the show, though, is that it's likely both boys have had other experiences. We know Sara was a virgin before August, he was most likely her first kiss as well. Also, we learn that Felice has had five sexual partners, that Stella and Fredrika have had partners, we can assume that Madison has because of the thing with Nils, unless of course that was a farce since we now know Nils is gay.
I do believe that Simon is the first boy that Wille has been interested in at the very least. From what he says to Boris about meeting a friend (Simon) and how that had awakened feelings that he wish had never happened. So, before Simon, before Hillerska, Wilhelm was at least not thinking about boys in that way, or at least not consciously. Or maybe he was, who knows, really. Because those awakened feelings could very well have been love and not a sexual awakening. If that's the case, he could very well have had private relationships that he didn't care to make public or they didn't last long enough to matter (which is a good bet). But then there's something that Kristina says about Erik having always kept his relationships secret which sort of implies that Wille never had a relationship before Simon, like she's never had to tell Wille that he needs to keep those things on the down low because they didn't exist before.
Well, those are my thoughts. I hope they make sense and answer your questions, nonnie! Thank you for asking! 💜💜💜
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To Kill A King (Ch. Four)
Summary: What’s more charming than Prince Seokjin? Nothing, obviously. Except maybe the rotating palace guests who each smile and bow and charm in an attempt to hide their true motives. Fortunately Seokjin has a close circle of friends (well, servants) who watch his back and endure his humor and help him navigate the tumultuous seas of heartbreak, love, and an arranged marriage, not necessarily in that order. If only they had helped him keep a closer eye on his bride-to-be’s handmaiden, who arrives with her own agenda… or maybe it would have been better if he had noticed her less? One thing is certain as this royal drama of the heart plays out: there are many people competing to kill a king.
Main Pairing: Prince Seokjin x Female OC
Genre: Historical Fantasy World, political conspiracy, romance
Rating: 18+
Content Warnings & story tags: includes explicit sex (mxf, fxf), possibly graphic violence/injury later, love and sex triangles or uh quadrangles?, sort of e 2 l, sort of bodyguard trope, sort of arranged marriage, a lot of plotting murder (it’s literally in the title), maybe character death, grief, pining, angst, love, oral (f receiving), I don’t know everything yet as the story is long and still being written
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He’d had that dream again last night. He almost told Jimin about it, but decided against it when the valet arrived to help him dress. It wasn’t that Jimin wouldn’t listen, of course he would, it was his job to listen. But there was something precious to Seokjin about the dream, and he liked to hold it close, even though it was the simplest dream a man could dream.
In it, the late afternoon sun slanted in through tall crops in a field or a meadow or something, he wasn’t an expert in plants. And he lay on a blanket on a sort of slope, maybe a hill, beneath a tree, head resting on his hands, elbows out, eyes closed, skin soaking up the golden warmth. In the distance he hears a woman calling for him –he’d always assumed it was his mother, because that made the most sense to him, but it was just an assumption. Someone sits beside him on the blanket, and he opens his eyes and there isn’t some visual explanation; he can’t actually see the person, just feel them. If he knows who it is sitting beside him, he can never remember when he wakes, but he always remembers the feeling that it’s someone he loves very much and is very happy to see, and they are just coming to sit with him. No work, no running off, no rush, no responsibility. Just peaceful sitting on a blanket in the late afternoon together.
That’s it. That was the dream. Simple, familiar, though not frequent. Seokjin always lingered in bed extra long on the mornings after that dream, trying to cling to that peace for a few more minutes. That warmth was not something he had ever experienced but he wanted it.
But Jimin came to chase him out of bed early because it was court day.
“Damnit,” Seokjin sighed at the reminder.
King Dong-gun had not held court for a week following the arrival of the Marvono royal family, and what a glorious week that had been. Not because Nasimiyu had come around at all on Seokjin’s sense of humor, not because he had yet made any real strides to earn her sincere affection (though she had a very pretty fake smile! It was becoming familiar to him now), but simply because there were few things in the world Seokjin hated more than sitting court with his father. Seriously. Being a prince had all sorts of tedious, embarrassing, and morally questionable responsibilities, but sitting court was still Seokjin’s least favorite. When he was inevitably king some day, he’d change this. He wasn’t sure how yet, but this whole farce would have to go.
First of all, the spectacle of it was mortifying. King Dong-gun lumbered into the throne room at whatever hour he pleased, regardless of what had been told to the people traveling sometimes from principalities far away to beg for a hearing with him. He sat in his big, ostentatious chair which must make people think he was compensating for something. He had food and drink brought to him, as if he couldn’t possibly make it through without fainting, even though so many of the people coming were very poor themselves and would stare at the lavish snacks with naked hunger. After each plea, King Dong-gun ushered his ruling with a bored flip of his hand and a trumpet played an obnoxious medley over this person kneeling on the ground, reacting to often life-changing news they were so callously given –sometimes not life-changing for the better.
Second of all, some of the ugliest sides of people were dragged out onto display in these courts. Seokjin had more experience interacting with the general populace than anyone –certainly his father– knew about, but at the point you were begging a hearing with the king and all that it cost and all that was at risk with angering him, there was something you felt strongly about. Life or death about!
So sometimes you had the richest of assholes here to complain because their rich asshole neighbor had a tree that kept dropping figs in their garden which were attracting hornets so they had poisoned the tree but lost the shade and now they wanted their neighbor to replace the tree they had poisoned.
But other times you had people who came in with their sick and dying children to beg for the king to intervene with a landlord who took too much, or a region with no wells and the water was drying up, or a fire had burned their crops down and they needed assistance. These were the ones that made Seokjin sick to his stomach. If there was only the request for relief, King Dong-gun sent them off to talk to someone else because it wasn’t like he was going to dump food into their open hands. Am I holding a roast goat under my robe? he had once laughed.
But if it was a complaint about a landlord of a regional governor, he asked what the court said. Had a judge already passed a ruling? The gods save them if they came straight to take up King Dong-gun’s time without trying the local courts first, but if they did do things the proper way, King Dong-gun had nothing comforting to say.
“The judge ruled your landlord had a right to raise your rent because you underproduced last year,” King Dong-gun summarized what a dirty, hungry, exhausted man had just told him.
“We underproduced because the land was too dry–”
“I don’t need the excuses anymore than your landlord does. Don’t you think if you are suffering from the drought, your landlord suffers tenfold, for each holding he has? It is your job to produce from the land and if you cannot afford to do so, you can surrender the place to someone else who can. If no one can, that is the landlord’s misery to deal with when he has no more tenants. He will reap his own troubles eventually.”
“But–”
“Do not interrupt me!” King Dong-gun snapped. Seokjin’s skin goose-pimpled. He looked around the room uncomfortably and spotted Nasimiyu sitting with her parents in the gallery to the right. What a dreadful thing for her to watch. It must be boring but also how embarrassing for her to see this. There was nothing impressive about this tedious, heartless, bureaucratic part of being King.
“Your judge has already ruled it is your landlord’s right so why do you come to waste my time? Do you think the judges in my country are idiots?”
“N-No, Your Royal Highness,” the man said, bowing his head. “But I thought… I hoped… maybe you could see the bigger picture, that if the landlord–”
“You are wasting my time. I will not tell a landlord what he can charge. I will not tell a judge he is an idiot because some farmer said so. Leave.”
The man looked horrified, as they always did when the King did not give them the mercy they had hoped for. Seokjin felt uncomfortable in his gut. He knew better than to bring it up with his father though, or even to think about saying something right now. Besides, what would he say? He didn’t know anything about the economics of landlords and tenants, despite theoretically having a tutor explain the system to him. He didn’t know anything about the competency of district circuit judges. He didn’t know how to do any of this better or what the right way to do it was, he would have been driven purely by the discomfort of seeing someone hurting and heartbroken. Disappointed. Sentimental. His father had laughed at him many times about it and demanded he take note that a sentimental king was a dead one.
Seokjin hated the uncomfortable changeover between plaintiffs. The spectators would whisper about whatever King Dong-gun’s ruling had been as the person left –sometimes dragged out, even kicking and screaming, if they really hated the King’s ruling. The next person would come in, striding with a confidence, likely about to be shattered, or creeping with big eyes and clutching fingers, about to have their heartbroken.
Did anyone ever leave happy? They did, they must, but Seokjin forgot the happy ones. Sometimes they didn’t deserve to be happy, that’s the truth of what he thought.
“How much longer is this?” King Dong-gun asked the advisors seated to the left. Seokjin wanted to know too, though the irony was that no one could make King Dong-gun hold court. Even this question was probably more to simply vent his boredom and flex that he was the most powerful one here than to actually ask any sort of permission.
“The line goes into city,” was the answer. “As long as Your Majesty pleases.”
The weirdest thing of all was that despite his externalized boredom and frequent complaints, King Dong-gun actually enjoyed court. Seokjin thought he really did. He’d hold court for seven hours sometimes, not letting anyone leave to eat until he decided he’d had enough flexing his power for the day. Did he just like proving he was the top? Did he just like the simplicity of casting judgment on every question brought before him? Seokjin didn’t get it, he thought it was miserable.
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand appealing to the King –it was that this was all a performance, just one the people who came didn’t know they were part of. Hence the crowds. It wasn’t only the poor and starving that nobles came to watch leave in tears, it was their own buffoon neighbors as well. King Dong-gun had received a standing ovation after his ruling on the fig tree neighbors. When occasionally he showed calculated mercy, it was only when he knew there was a particular woman in the gallery he was fond of, who would dramatically clap her hand to her heart –and she didn’t come often, so the moments of mercy were rare. He seemed to take as much delight in hearing the round of ‘oh yes good that was a good fair ruling’ from around the gallery as he did shocking those very same people, only to raise his hand and demand their adulations.
Seokjin did. Not. get it. He was King Dong-gun’s own son and still could not comprehend his father’s court holding. And he kept trying to, because he felt like there ought to be some reason for it all, some valuable lesson he needed to learn because someday this would be his job. But he couldn’t figure it out, and it just gave him a headache. Hoseok would psssst him and rub his own forehead to tell Seokjin he was scrunching his face in a way that would cause early wrinkles.
So in an attempt to not look bored or apathetic or stupid or incapable to the Marvono royals, Seokjin instead tried to ignore what was going on and study Nasimiyu. She sat perfectly upright, a proper royal woman, attention trained on anything that happened, face neutral. If he had to guess –which he didn’t trust himself to do when it came to her– he would guess that she was either used to court or at least saw the value in it, and maybe even enjoyed it. Her face looked neutral but engaged in a way both similar to and very different from her handmaiden’s just behind her. That one watched the proceedings with a face so completely neutral that it looked unnatural, like she was concentrating hard on keeping her true feelings from showing. Seokjin thought that either she was disgusted with the whole thing or on the verge of falling asleep. Seokjin wished she would actually fall asleep, like fall forward and bump into Nasimiyu and disturb the whole thing. Then he could escape court and not listen to his father play a game judging people’s lives. Not that he’d do any better, he knew that. How was one person supposed to know how to quickly do what was right in each of these situations without knowing all the laws and the context and fully reviewing the situation with other witnesses and opinions?!
Suddenly a disturbance. It was not the handmaid fallen asleep though, rather it was an uncomfortable silence, the wail of a small child, and an unsettling feeling Seokjin got from his father. Even though he couldn’t see King Dong-gun’s face without twisting to look, he sensed his father’s humor had suddenly shifted. He had missed something important preceding it, but it only took Seokjin a moment to figure it out:
The woman standing in front of them had two boys with her, close in age, maybe like five or seven? It was all the same to Seokjin. But young enough to be a bit wild, and the smaller of the two had run forward and attempted to climb into the chair to King Dong-gun’s left, the throne left ceremoniously empty in honor of Seokjin’s late mother.
At the point Seokjin began paying attention, the guards grabbed the little boy and threw him back at his mother, but he landed badly on the ground and hit his head on the tiled floor. Thankfully he was still alert, but blood ran down the side of his head, lots of blood, what looked to Seokjin like an alarming amount of blood.
“Is this the queen’s legacy? Protecting her chair is worth injuring a small child?” went the murmurs. They might have been sympathetic to ripping the child off the chair, that seemed like something unnecessarily heartless that people of the court would support, but now there was a sobbing, profusely bleeding child in the middle of court. The mother and brother huddled around him, trying to calm him but no one moved to help. Seokjin glanced at his father, secretly wishing his father would suddenly rise from the throne and go to help the boy himself, that he would demonstrate being that kind of a man.
King Dong-gun did actually look horrified, but also frozen, away from things. He was thinking of something else right now. He looked shocked. Seokjin hadn’t seen his father look like that in years, not since he stopped drinking his grief away in front of his own son, or anyone else for that matter.
No one would move without the king’s permission and the king was in no place to give it and there was a screaming, crying, bleeding child and an upset mother and a frightened brother.
Seokjin rose and waved his hand, as if reassuring someone that he was taking charge of the situation –though of course he had no idea what to do with a screaming, crying child. He felt the ripple of activity as he walked quickly down the steps and across the floor to crouch beside the child, whose mother was now trying to lift him except he was thrashing and crying so loudly, and also he was decently tall.
“Let’s see, I think that red stuff is supposed to stay inside of you,” Seokjin said, as gently as he could. He didn’t have much experience around children so he tended to just talk to them like they were small, unreasonable people. “Are you badly– ah,” he broke off his own stupid question. The child was hurt enough he should see a doctor. “Let’s take you to see a doctor, yes?” The woman was remarkably pretty for a peasant woman, it looked like she had tried to dress nice for this, but now there was blood on her dress and tears on her face.
The child let out a startled cry when Seokjin scooped him up, demonstrating much more reliable strength than the worried mother had. As he stood, Nasimiyu reached forward with a cloth to press to the boy’s head; her nearness startled Seokjin. She’d come forward to help as well?
A blossom of warmth bloomed from his chest towards her. He’d come forward because someone needed to and maybe he was in a unique position; if nothing else, his father wouldn’t do more than yell at him about it later, if he even cared. But having someone else suddenly there with him acted like a balm to Seokjin’s discomfort. He wasn’t used to that, to not feeling alone in whatever he did, at most tailed by Jimin and Jungkook. Maybe he was overreacting, literally all she did was press a cloth to the boy’s head and touch the mother’s arm but for a brief moment Seokjin felt companionship. With Princess Nasimiyu! With this woman impossible to read or impress.
“This way, someone has already gone to fetch a doctor–” a staff said, approaching and motioning for them to follow.
“Nonsense, we have a physician here in the palace already.”
“Yes, for noble–”
“For human beings. I mean the physician, not the veterinarian. Go fetch the people doctor at once,” Seokjin insisted as he tried to shift the child so he’d be able to hold the cloth while carrying him. It was difficult to do. Everyone was staring at him. His ears were on fire. “We’ll escort them to the side room and if we wait longer than I think it should take you to get the court physician…” He let the threat hang because he wasn’t really good at making threats and also because he was the Royal Prince, he didn’t really need to get specific. The staff scurried away to do as ordered unless someone scarier than Seokjin gave him a different order.
The only person higher than Seokjin in these things, really, was King Dong-gun, who suddenly rose from his chair. He still looked remarkably shocked by everything. He stared at the woman and in a rather unusual turn of events, the woman lifted her chin and stared back. It was confusing, and Seokjin would have liked to try and make sense of that except the child was still crying, murmurs were gaining volume around the court, and now the older brother was trying to climb Seokjin’s arm to reach his brother.
In a show of humor to try and lighten the mood, Seokjin reached down to grab the other boy around the waist, as if he was going to hoist him up too, and asked, “Oh, you both need a lift? Are you attached at the hip, you two brothers? It’s good I have such broad shoulders!”
“Walk with me,” the mother said instead, grabbing the older boy’s hand. She now gave Seokjin a completely startled look, as if she hadn’t realized until exactly this moment who had come forth to lift her son. She fell silent but Nasimiyu began to move and so the woman followed and so did Seokjin.
“Which side room?” Nasimiyu asked as they exited through the front doors, side stepping the line of people waiting. People stared but still, no one moved to help.
“What’s wrong with people?” Seokjin mumbled under his breath as he stepped around Nasimiyu and the mother to enter one of the many side rooms of the court where individuals might be debriefed –or held, if there was a problem.
Inside, he settled the boy on the bench, the mother sliding down quickly to pull her son into her side and press the cloth tightly to his head because Seokjin had let it slip as they walked.
“I’m very sorry for the overreaction,” Seokjin said, bowing slightly to the boy and his mother. “I’m afraid people around here get very jumpy about that chair and how people behave in court, no matter how old they are.”
“You’re saying the guard was right to throw my son?” the woman asked, completely misunderstanding.
“No, I was apologizing for the overreaction,” Seokjin said carefully. He studied the woman’s face now, still panicked and flushed with tears but oddly familiar, though he couldn’t quite place her. “Have I seen you before? I’m sorry, if so, I don’t remember your name…”
The woman looked quickly down at her children and assured him, “No, I don’t think so… I am not around royalty often… and after this… honestly, throwing a child…”
“I’ll follow up with the guards and make sure they handle things like this more gently in the future,” Seokjin promised –an empty promise. His father was adamant the chair be guarded as much as his own body, and probably didn’t see anything wrong with the guard being a little overly rough with a small child. It wasn’t like the guard had tried to harm him, he’d sort of slipped at the force of the guard’s handling… Not that Seokjin wanted to justify it! But he already knew that anything he said would be ignored at best, or enrage his father at worse.
Plus there was that strange matter of his father’s reaction to make sense of. Why had seeing the small boy hurt caused his father, the unshakeable King Dong-gun, to freeze up like that?
“Empty words but hard hands,” the woman mumbled, stroking her son’s cheek. “I don’t know what I expected coming here…”
“Your complaint didn’t get heard. Is there something I can do for you while we wait for the physician? I could follow up on your issue–”
“It was only for the king and you are not him.”
“Yes,” Nasimiyu interjected. “But he is the Royal Prince. Perhaps you should remember who just carried your son and is standing here with you now, ensuring the best physician in the city tends to him?”
The woman said nothing. Seokjin said nothing, surprised by Nasimiyu’s defensiveness –she must be protective of titles and formality, which wasn’t surprising for a princess, though Seokjin had briefly hoped for the opposite when she came to assist with the child.
The woman refused to tell them her business and the physician arrived soon anyway. Seokjin gave firm instructions for the boy to be well cared for and the woman’s place in line preserved, but Jimin informed him from the doorway that King Dong-gun had ended court for the day.
A blessing to be done, for sure, but it meant Seokjin had no path to follow up with his father right now and test why he had reacted that way. Was he so upset seeing a child hurt? Was it only the shock of having a stranger briefly seated in his late wife’s throne?
“You’ll need to change,” Jimin whispered as Seokjin and Nasimiyu stepped from the room, leaving the physician to it. He looked down at the red stain running down his shoulder.
“It’s ghastly,” he murmured. “I expected his brains to be dashed out with that much blood.”
“Head injuries bleed a lot,” Nasimiyu’s handmaid offered, looking down at Nasimiyu’s hand, also bloody from pressing the bandage.
“Your jacket is ruined and no thanks for it,” Nasimiyu sighed.
Seokjin couldn’t help the snort as he assured her, “I don’t care about the jacket. I have a dozen more just like it. But I’m afraid you’ll learn there’s never any thanks in any of it so you shouldn’t wait for it”
“You did a kind thing.”
“What’s a kind thing after you’ve done a wrong thing?”
“You didn’t hurt the child.”
“It happened in our court,” Seokjin argued, much as he appreciated the reassurance. All the blood left him a little shaky, now that it was done with, truth be told. He wouldn’t admit that to Nasimiyu, of course. “The king rules all, the court is the lap of the king. No matter how kind a thing we do, it is never enough because…” He broke off. The jitters were going to make him ramble and he didn’t much feel like it right now. It did sting to try and try and it never be enough. He shouldn’t complain about that to Nasimiyu but she would learn it soon enough herself, though it was interesting if she didn’t already know it.
“Doesn’t your father hold court?” Seokjin asked.
Nasimiyu shook her head, “No. I mean, yes, he hears complaints but not in full court like that. Semi-private.”
“Oh…” Hm. That sounded a little more interesting. Maybe that was a better way to do things…
“Your jacket,” Jimin whispered.
“Yes, I’d better go wash up. Apologies that a long day in court ended unusually poorly. Alas, you will have many, many more opportunities to experience the whole day of it.”
“I look forward to it,” Nasimiyu told him and seemed serious.
Hm. Could a king just let his wife handle it?
No no, he mentally flicked his own forehead. A king who just ceded all the work to his wife was a walking target for assasination or invasion. Not that the queens didn’t often work just as hard or harder than the king, but the world still demanded a man in the role of overlord so… Seokjin’s ass would have to be on that throne someday.
What a nightmare.
But that day was not today. He followed Jimin to change his jacket and tried to look on the bright side that at least he was free from court for the rest of the day.
“What do you think, the gold or the blue?” Nasimiyu asked, eyeing Dulce. She stood in the nude after bathing –a luxury in the afternoon, but she’d wanted to wash away all traces of the child’s blood that lingered on her palm. Obviously she wasn’t someone who’d faint at the sight of blood, but there was something horrifying about a child’s blood being spilled the way she’d seen.
Dulce just shrugged and admitted, “You know I don’t know colors…”
“But you must have an opinion.”
“About colors? No…”
Nasimiyu sighed that Dulce wouldn’t even pretend to play along. She seemed sulky today, for as much as Nasimiyu could understand her behaviors –which wasn’t much at all. Probably she’d been bored out of her skull when Nasimiyu made her sit court with her, but she’d wanted Dulce to witness it, as someone who’d never been in that kind of place before.
Actually Nasimiyu was a little sulky too. She was embarrassed that after the child had been hurt, Seokjin and Dulce had both moved before she had in a room full of people only staring. As soon as Dulce had stood, Nasimiyu had stepped past her and Dulce had wisely hung back, leaving Nasimiyu to handle things with Seokjin. What a pleasant surprise to learn that he’d step forward in a moment like that; she hadn’t expected it of him. Granted it was a low bar, he hadn’t really done anything, but no one else had done even that. It had softened Nasimiyu just enough to feel defensive when the distraught mother was so rude to Seokjin, as if he had been the one to hurt her child.
No, that was the guard who it did not sound like would face any punishment. Or you could blame King Dong-gun, who’d simply sat there, silently condoning it all. He’d disappeared and not been seen again all afternoon, probably weeping over the empty chair that had belonged to his late wife and was apparently more important to him than the cracked skull of a small child.
“You said the child was all right?” Nasimiyu asked, thinking about it again, though Dulce had reported back to her earlier. She’d managed to intercept the mother and her two sons before she’d left the palace, after her son’s head was stitched and bandaged.
Dulce nodded, absent-mindedly poking through Nasimiyu’s jewels, “Yes… but I do still have a strange feeling about it all. She wouldn’t tell me why she came to court, and I couldn’t find anyone who said her complaint was heard or addressed. The king had something going on as soon as that kid climbed into the chair.”
“It belonged to the late queen.”
“So I gathered,” Dulce said, voice slightly taut. Nasimiyu grinned. Dulce hated being talked down to or told obvious things almost as much as Nasimiyu did. And unfortunately, Nasimiyu knew she sounded that way a lot because she was so used to men talking down to her, that she had to sound that way to hold her own. She was a princess. Someday she’d be queen! She couldn’t leave room for doubt or questioning in her voice. It rankled Dulce, who had very little respect for her royal title, which Nasimiyu found mostly endearing.
“Men can be silly about things when their wives die,” Nasimiyu explained. “Maybe it’s the only endearing thing about him, that he loved her that much.”
Dulce shrugged, “I guess. I can’t relate but–”
“You wouldn’t spend your life fiercely guarding our bed if I suddenly died–”
“I’d avenge you and go on with my life.”
“Dulcie!” Nasimiyu laughed. She decided on the blue. Dulce still looked distracted though and Nasimiyu prodded, “Why, what are you thinking about? Not me dying and looking like that I hope–”
“No. I don’t know. Probably you’re right and he just overreacted because someone dared touch his throne…”
“But…” Nasimiyu nudged Dulce.
“I’m not in the business of spreading rumors. That’s more your game.”
Nasimiyu rolled her eyes, “Ok, I only two down two women that way and they deserved it–”
“Cleaner than a knife,” Dulce teased. “More brutal though, I think.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking! I’m not going to run off and whisper it to the scullery maids. You’re the only maid I’m whispering anything to.”
Dulce shrugged, “I’d have to investigate more but… I thought maybe the children are his.”
“His… whose? The king’s?”
“She spent who knows how long waiting for a meeting with the king, didn’t leave her children out in the hall, didn’t stick around to demand an answer. She didn’t even hold her child’s hand to keep him by her side when they entered a hostile court… I don’t know.”
Nasimiyu thought about this for a moment. Dulce had a sharp eye, so it was worth not immediately discounting. But…
“You hate men,” Nasimiyu pointed out.
Dulce immediately looked scandalized, “I do not hate men!”
“You don’t think a faithful man exists.”
“I know faithful men exist,” Dulce insisted. “I just don’t think they’re common. And among the nobility?”
“My father is. My mother would rip his guts from his belly if he touched another woman.”
“Was the queen like your mother?”
“I… don’t know,” Nasimiyu admitted. “I only ever heard of her spoken about like she was… soft and beautiful and kind. But regardless of what anyone thinks about the king, it’s generally agreed that he was madly in love with his wife.”
“Well then there’s nothing to it then.”
“No…” Nasimiyu trailed off. Dulce had left her jewels and now leaned bored against the wall. “No, if you think there’s something there, you should look into it more. Can you find out who the woman is?”
“I can, but it’ll mean going outside of the palace since she doesn’t live here.”
“Does she live in Priva?”
“I don’t know yet,” Dulce said, looking annoyed at Nasimiyu’s question. “I’ve been with you almost all day.”
“Oh. I just thought you worked faster than that.” She said it to annoy Dulce and it worked. Nasimiyu laughed at the flash in her eyes as she pushed off the wall. “All right, don’t be huffy. Look into it. I can start using the other girls more… but please don’t start rumors that he’s got secret love children until you know.”
“That’s what I said I didn’t want to do!”
Nasimiyu flashed a bright smile at her. Dulce’s frustration rolled off of her. She didn’t think it had anything to do with her anyway, and she didn’t take offense. She personally felt refreshed after the day in court. There were so many things fucked up about the current ways. It was going to be so easy to step in and make things better! None of this public performance as people were begging for their lives. None of this nonsense with nobles fighting over frivolous bullshit. Triaging requests so that more urgent ones were heard first would make a world of a difference compared to this first come first serve method –which only last anyway until someone with true wealth needed to jump the line.
“Why do you look like that?” Dulce asked.
“Like what?”
“Like you just got good news… I could be totally off base about the children, and if it’s true, it doesn’t help if that comes out and people turn on him before you’re on the throne, right? If they’d even care.”
“I don’t think it would change a damn thing,” Nasimiyu admitted. “No king is getting overthrown because he has illegitimate children. That’s boring for a king… though it does pose a problem if they try to challenge me for the Throne,” she realized with alarm. “Oh shit. I should tell my parents–”
“Wait,” Dulce interrupted. “Wait until I know more.”
“Why?” Nasimiyu asked suspiciously.
“Because they might overreact. They might add noise and attention, sending someone else to investigate who will be clumsy about it, and suddenly the whole house of cards comes tumbling down. If I find anything more than my gut that points to it being a concern, I’ll tell you.”
“All right.”
“So then maybe while I chase that down, you can have someone else investigate his room–”
“A ha!” Nasimiyu gasped. “Did you come up with this just because you don’t want to sneak into his room?”
Dulce looked affronted and assured her, “I did not!”
“It’s just a measly little prince bedroom to sneak into. What’s the big deal?”
“It’s not that it’s a big deal, that’s the point. I’m an–” She broke off, rather than loudly announcing I’m an assassin! It made Nasimiyu laugh anyway. “It’s below my pay grade to go sneaking around in someone’s bedroom to find out tips so their betrothed can woo them.”
“Then I’ll lower your pay.”
Nasimiyu smiled at the scowl from Dulce. She had these long dark eyebrows that scowled so beautifully.
“I’m teasing, of course I won’t. In fact I will give you a gift if you bring me something useful from his room.”
“If I go tomorrow like we discussed, I might lose the woman.”
“Figure it out,” Nasimiyu shrugged. Ooh, she liked the way that sounded. She sounded like a queen. She grinned at herself in the mirror and lifted a band of jewels to nestle into her hair for supper.
As if she could read her mind, Dulce mused, “Don’t you look like a queen? You really do thrive off of court, hm?”
“Well today was an example of everything being done wrong by this current dynasty.”
“But your rule will be different.”
“Exactly,” Nasimiyu nodded. “I won’t bore you with it all right now but I have so many ideas to make all of that,” she gestured, “into something that will actually help people.”
“Well. Good then.” Nasimiyu turned, curious why Dulce sounded so bored by it.
“What’s wrong with you tonight?”
“Nothing except I’m not looking forward to creeping around a man’s bedroom while you’re planning your wedding.”
Nasimiyu reached out to squeeze Dulce’s arm as she passed her and insisted, “Honestly, it’s just poking around a bedroom. Soon I’ll be getting poked in that bedroom, so you can at least help me–”
“That’s crude from you in a way that doesn’t sound like you.”
“Well you’re bothering me with this sulking, it’s throwing me off. I thought you– well, it doesn’t matter. You have things to do, so you’re free to go do them. I’ll have the other girls tend to me and see you tomorrow or whenever, yes?”
Dulce hesitated, eyeing her now. Nasimiyu realized it sounded very dismissive, very final. She hadn’t completely meant it that way but she also hadn’t not meant it that way. Was snooping in Seokjin’s room really that big of a deal? She didn’t understand why Dulce wanted to keep her suspicions about the woman a secret either, unless she just didn’t want the embarrassment of being wrong to Nasimiyu’s parents… that made sense, actually…
“All right. I’ll come back when I’ve found something.”
Dulce turned to go without anything further and Nasimiyu felt a heaviness from the departure. Good, Dulce was doing what she’d said but no, not like that! Like it was just some command Nasimiyu had given and Dulce was off to do it and collect payment.
Dulce’s hand was on the door when Nasimiyu called after her, “Wait.”
“Yes?”
“Check in with me tomorrow, all right? Don’t just… disappear or anything.”
“All right.”
Nasimiyu was glad to see her hesitate and look thoughtful about it now. Half the time she didn’t understand what ticked Dulce off or why, and sometimes that wall was really annoying to run into, but she felt like she’d opened a door through it just with that comment. Did Dulce think she was mad or something? Sending her away?
“Hey, it’s all right you didn’t already know the answers or anything,” Nasimiyu added to be benevolent and clear the air. “I know you’re doing a lot at once. I trust your gut.”
Dulce paused before admitting, “Some of us just don’t belong in court. I’ll let you know what I find.”
And like a fresh breeze in this smelly city, she was gone.
“What does she mean by that?” Nasimiyu grumbled. Doesn’t belong in court… is she really mad I made her sit there? I know it’s boring but I just wanted her to see… she talked about how out of touch nobility are, I thought she’d be more interested in the avenues that do exist, even if this one is particularly poorly run.
“Work to do,” Nasimiyu grinned to herself. It was nice to see something straight forward, some easy way she could make a big impact someday. Everything was so big and nebulous and out of her control for the most part –she was having to rely on Dulce to help her figure out how to even find enough in common with her future husband to seem in love!-- but it helped to remember why she wanted to do this in the first place.
King Dong-gun was failing the people. She, Nasimiyu, would do better. She would be the best Queen Yeonhalbi had seen ever!
Dulce was mad that Nasimiyu had enjoyed that disgusting show of wealth and power that the nobility called court. Dulce was mad that she and Nasimiyu would never see eye to eye on the root problem. King Dong-gun wasn’t the problem, kings were the problem. Was a queen going to be better? Dulce wasn’t so sure, not in a world where Nasimiyu hadn’t stood to go help a bleeding child until Dulce started to move.
Yes, she had noticed that. And most of all, Dulce was angry at herself for being so surprised, for forgetting this thing she already knew about Nasimiyu. The princess was far from a perfect person. She had a good heart and an independent spirit and she wanted the system to be better, she thought she could fix the system, but she was still an advocate of the system. She was aware of her privilege but didn’t see the whole of it. She still got offended when an upset mother with a bleeding child showed disrespect for a prince’s title. She saw two potentially royal bastard sons as a threat to her future power rather than a fucking tragedy. A betrayal, a lie, maybe even an abuse of power over a commoner.
Dulce didn’t want to tell Nasimiyu’s parents and was angry at herself for even bringing up her suspicions because simply killing the boys off was the fastest and easiest solution to whatever problem may or may not exist. When Nasimiyu wanted to know what her hesitation was, Dulce was too afraid to learn whether Nasimiyu hadn’t thought about the fact her parents would just have the boys killed or actually didn’t see the problem with it. She must, right? She must see the problem with it.
But Nasimiyu had enjoyed court. Nasimiyu’s eyes sparkled when she looked at the throne. Dulce was learning a lot about Nasimiyu she had ignored the possibility of before they came to Priva.
And now this. This was a stupid errand, and Dulce was thinking all sorts of sharp, pointed, daggery thoughts at Nasimiyu right now. And daggers at herself because she kept doing this, she kept forgetting that Nasimiyu was so many of the things she hated most in the world. It’s just that Nasimiyu was so… Nasimiyu. And Dulce time and time again ignored that part in her gut that warned she is going to be the end of you and ignored all of the survival skills that had kept her above water this long in life and let herself get close with Nasimiyu.
And where had it led her? To the fucking capital of Yeonhalbi, on a fucking stupid ‘mission’ into the stupid fucking bedroom of a stupid fucking prince. Because Nasimiyu could do all sorts of things except pretend to fall in love with a man who to Dulce seemed perfectly inoffensive.
Prince Seokjin’s bedroom was not directly guarded unless he was inside, but guards patrolled the wing, so she’d have to time her entrance and exit just right. She’d taken another look at the window overlooking the courtyard but decided it was way too risky, same with finding a way up to the roof and climbing down. It was overkill. She wasn’t going to risk breaking her neck for this and if she got caught, she would throw Nasimiyu under the bus without hesitation. My mistress was shy and curious, she made me do it…
But doubtful she’d get caught, she never got caught unless someone sold her out, and rarely did she trust someone enough to let them be in the position where they could.
Annoyance about everything made her breath sharp as she waited around the corner for a while, listening to the pacing and rotation of the guards unless she could feel the pattern in their bored motions. Probably they thought their behavior was mindless, random, but people were generally predictable. It was almost shockingly easy to wait until the two guards with line of sight each conveniently turned away down a side hall and then, in that brief moment of invisibility, slip through the doors and quietly close them behind her. They weren’t left locked.
For a moment Dulce just pressed against the wall and looked around, eyes peeled for any sign of life. Just because Seokjin would be busy for a while now, tied up in a meeting to plan his wedding, didn’t mean no one else would come into the room –to clean, to collect things, maybe to feed the menagerie he had in here.
The Prince’s room was actually three rooms, four if you counted the massive washroom with a private toilet and round porcelain tub next to a window overlooking the sea. The bedroom was on the opposite side of that, with two large windowed doors opening to face the foot of the largest bed Dulce had ever seen in her life. The bedding was white, all white, white curtains dangling from the posts, white curtains around the windows billowing in the breeze, even very simple art mounted on the walls, white with some blue and green streaks and circles. This was the bedroom of a man who did not clean it himself, and did not need to worry about bringing in dirt anyway. Immaculate. Dulce couldn’t avoid the thought of stumbling into it at the end of one of her longest days, blood and dirt and alcohol smeared everywhere, maybe shit and piss too if it had been a particularly rough one. Not her own of course, god no, but people made messes at the end, that was the dirty truth people like Prince Seokjin certainly didn’t know.
She didn’t step fully into the bedroom yet; she’d come back, since it was furthest from the door.
The other two rooms, from her initial cursory glance, were a sitting room and a study, but the doors between them were left open, making it feel like one big space. The sitting room had a wall of caged animals. So many fucking cages, puzzled together so that some cages were tall and some were wide and some had multiple levels within the cage for whatever creature lived inside. There was a very large fish tank as well.
The animals were surprisingly quiet, though, even when she went right up and peered into the cages. She couldn’t see anything in most of them; whatever it was seemed to be burrowed down and sleeping. A low, long cage with a little gate that opened to a ramp onto the floor had guinea pigs in it. They ate those in Paloma. Her shoulders lifted in a single laugh at how horrified Prince Seokjin would probably be to learn that.
She already knew about the animals though, so she turned her attention to the rest of the rooms, memorizing the layout quickly, noting how everything had opened, unlocked doors connecting them. There were two doors –one from the sitting room and one from the hallway by the bedroom– that opened into the courtyard she’d observed from above.
The study was the room with the most stuff if you didn’t count things that were for the animals. There was still a fake tree in there she thought belonged to one of the animals due to the fur all over it, but the room was dominated by a big desk and shelves upon shelves of books. Some impressively thick tomes announced histories and sciences and even mathematics on the spines, but a close inspection revealed dust on every top. Prince Seokjin did not touch these books ever.
Also on the shelves though were lots of wooden toys –figurines, wooden puzzles, some crudely carved as if by a child. A whittling knife was on the desk, and for a brief moment Dulce had a flashback to a childhood watching her grandfather shape animals from blocks of wood to amuse her. She supposed it might be a nervous habit of the prince’s, a mindless fidget, since the whittling appeared to be done at the desk. She shuffled through the books and papers, trying to see everything and disturb nothing that might be noticed. There was nothing that really interested her though, for either Nasimiyu’s sake or anyone else’s. Lines of poetry he was copying, probably for penmanship; Nasimiyu did the same thing in her room at home. Books on small animals. Books of recipes, some with comments in the margine Dulce wondered might be his.
The desk had drawers she rifled through, mostly broken pens, empty ink bottles, but the lower one had letters. She peeked quickly and realized they were from a woman, a Lady Delphine.
“Ooooh,” she hummed, trying to scan quickly –but the writing was so frilly, it was difficult to read. Nasimiyu might want to know about these. She checked dates where she could see them but definitely she didn’t have time to read through all of them right now.
So she pocketed the letters, about five of them, and hoped they wouldn’t be missed from the whole stack. If they seemed important, she’d return them later, or trade them out for others so Nasimiyu could read more.
In closing the drawer and straightening, she found herself looking directly at a painted portrait. Prince Seokjin was easy to identify, even though he was a child. He had an older brother in the painting as well, and both his parents. Dulce hadn’t known what the late Queen or the brother looked like, but found herself pausing to admire. The Queen was beautiful, at least in the painting, and Prince Seokjin seemed to favor her quite a bit. King Dong-gun looked handsome and strong and young though, so who knew what liberties the painter had taken.
Turning to the shelves on the other side, she immediately spotted the book the Prince had been reading in his garden, along with a whole row of others bearing the same mark on the spine. The shelves were all like that, series of these picture novels, all arranged perfectly in order, spines worn from obvious re-reading. No dust. And also tucked into the spaces above or around the books were more toys, carved wooden figurines but also small porcelain and glass figures, some jewel-encrusted, some made of fabric or felted wool. It was easy to draw the connection that these were toys connected to the stories Prince Seokjin clearly loved far more than the histories and encyclopedias on his other shelves.
Not that Dulce spent a great deal of time reading, but she couldn’t blame him for that preference. She picked up one of them, curious, but just as quickly put it back down. Someone who made sure their books were lined up by series would probably notice if she lost his page in what he was reading. Maybe he’d blame it on the animals or maybe he’d suspect someone had been here. She didn’t know how particular he might be. His dress always seemed so careful, so maybe he was very tightly wound like that.
Still, the fact that Prince Seokjin liked visual novels and collected toys seemed valuable to report to Nasimiyu. The Princess didn’t like visual novels as far as Dulce knew, but she could learn them to have something in common. That seemed easy enough. Dulce wasn’t some expert in making a man fall in love with her, but books were an easy interest to share, right?
Noise in another room made her slide into a corner and freeze. She listened for footsteps or the door opening but instead the noise a second time confirmed it was the squirrel; she peered around the door to make sure. The fluffy thing was at the top of its cage and froze to look at her for a moment before going back to nibbling on something in its hands, unconcerned with her.
The washroom had little of interest, except for a box of lambskin condoms. Dulce wasn’t surprised at all by that, but Nasimiyu had hinted that the Prince might be a virgin, which seemed to not be the case unless he just held onto these for optimism. Dulce filched one. The rest of his cabinet had some pills and ointments but only basic things she could easily recognize –pills for aches and pains, ointment for scrapes, that sort of thing. There were two pairs of glasses wedged onto a small shelf between candles and bottles of hair product and cologne, which she actually found interesting. Surely he didn’t have people helping him dress in here. Did he sometimes style his own hair? Fascinating for a prince! A door opened through to the bedroom but she went back to the hall and entered the bedroom from there.
Dulce left the washroom after her brief study, concerned now as time was getting away from her and she still had the bedroom. She’d left it for last because it seemed less interesting than the other two rooms and also the furthest away, just in case she was interrupted and needed to flee.
But as she stepped inside, she raelized she had underestimated the room. Against the far wall was an entire nook she had missed before, tucked behind what had looked like just another curtain. The nook was full of stuffed animals, piled up on a wide cushioned windowseat that was really more like a daybed in size. You could definitely nap there.
“Shit…” she mumbled as she leaned down and it moved. The cushion was actually full of water, and the stuffed animals rose and fell at the ripples from her touch. “He’s insane…” she murmured, tempted to laugh about it. So what, he sat here on his waterbed reading nook in his piles of stuffed animals and flipped through those books tucked on the shelf above and watched the sun set? It sounded both lovely and incredibly odd. Eccentric rich boy, confirmed triplefold.
The stuffed animals were diverse in both species and quality. Some looked like no more than puffy white sheep crudely stitched, others looked remarkably realistic like bears and wolves, some seemed aged, probably with the Prince since childhood.
She couldn't’ waste her time identifying stuffed animals. She would need to leave soon and there was more she had overlooked. A changing screen had hidden from her view the closet door, through which a room the size of her entire last apartment housed clothing and boots and jewelry and coats and even swords. She roamed through, touching the velvets and silks that begged for it. Everything was crisp and clean and neatly arranged for easy access, even the gloves and socks nestled into wide thin drawers. Honestly, his closet was even larger than Nasimiyu’s, which was really saying something.
Vain, she added to her internal reckoning of him, though she supposed it made sense that the royal prince would be vain and drowning in expensive clothing. Probably one pair of shoes from here could feed her for a month. The temptation to steal a couple necklaces and send them home to her family gnawed at her stomach but she resisted it. For now.
Back outside the closet, she looked over the actual dressing space, previously hidden by the dressing screens. There were mirrors all around, a vanity like Nasimiyu’s, clothing racks, and an outfit already hung out, probably for dinner. An overstuffed, well-worn chair sat beside a second desk, which drew her attention more than the dressing items did.
A second desk? For a man who did not seem very interested in his studies anyway? This one had more items on top, including a few framed sketches of people –Dulce recognized the Queen again but no one else. Had the Prince drawn these? There weren’t any papers on the top, but digging through the drawers revealed another framed photo of a beautiful young woman, and so many small items and trinkets it was impossible to inspect them all. Necklaces, a small book of flower sketches, papers covered in tic-tac-toe games, small glass perfume bottles, several very heavy rings, a bracelet of pretty red beads, a small ratty stuffed rabbit, a book of poems with crumbling pages, and so on. And a wooden box of letters, cedar, and inside all of them neatly lined up. Dulce ran her fingers over the tops, enjoying the fan-like feeling, but it meant too she noticed that the paper changed around the middle.
The letters towards the bottom were each in a crisp white envelope, thick, expensive. When she pulled one up, on the front was written: Seokjin, Birth. Next came: Seokjin, Year One. And so on, all the way through 30. Carefully Dulce opened the very first one.
Dear Seokjin,
My darling boy, it has been two days since I held you in my arms for the first time but I have not had a moment to rest to write this letter until now. How could I spare my hand even for a moment when I could otherwise by stroking your soft hair and fat cheeks? Your fingers are perpetually curled around mine. You are perfect.
A letter written after Seokjin was born; Dulce didn’t even need to confirm, though did, that it was signed by the Queen.
She tucked the letter carefully away without reading further and checked the second.
Dear Seokjin,
I cannot believe it has been an entire year! It feels like only yesterday I held you for the first time–
Dulce was not interested in reading the love letters of a mother. She tucked those away and scrolled through to thirty, curious, because Prince Seokjin was not quite thirty, and the Queen had been dead for years.
Dear Seokjin,
My dearest son, this will be the last letter I write ahead for you though I hope there are many, many more years to come and they will be glorious for you. There are not enough prayers in the world to cover how much I long for your life to be one full of happiness and joy, whatever that means for Seokjin my son.
Dulce looked thoughtfully at the letters. So at some point the Queen had known she was going to die and written letters ahead. How awful. She wondered if Seokjin had read ahead after his mother died, or if she’d just opened a letter that had stayed safe in its envelope since the queen tucked it there. Was he the sort with the willpower to wait or the emotions to satisfy immediately?
Quickly she put it back, not needing to read more. How awful. How sad. What a beautifully devoted mother, that was all she needed to learn from those.
The next letter after that had a different hand, and a different envelope, this one a duller white. On the front was written Eomma, Death.
Dulce hesitated respectfully but still cracked the envelope open and peered at the opening.
Dear Eomma,
You died yesterday. Writing it doesn’t make it feel any more real. I would never write it unless it was true because I’d be afraid of making it come true. But you died yesterday and soon there will be a funeral and the city is mourning. Everyone loved you. Everyone misses you. People are sending flowers from everywhere and I keep thinking how much you would enjoy the flowers. It doesn’t make sense and you’re the only one I want to talk to–
Dulce shoved the letter back into the envelope and thrust it back into the box. She held her breath to slow her heart back to a normal pace and flicked through just to confirm that each envelope had written on it Eomma, Year 1; Eomma, Year 2; and so on.
Dulce was used to death. It didn’t frighten her. She’d seen good deaths and terrible deaths, proud deaths and shameful deaths. She’d lost those who were dear to her; she’d been the cause of death many times; she’d stood by and watched it happen. She had her reasons for the lives she took, and her own moral code she could explain if anyone was willing to listen, even though she knew in the end it didn’t matter, that someone who killed was a killer. She made a simple solution to complex problems, and that wasn’t necessarily anything to be proud of, but Dulce had long ago stopped feeling any sort of guilt or conflict about the things she did in life. Everyone did things in life. These were her things.
But one thing that had fascinated her from her earliest days of working with death, was that whether you were a good or bad person didn’t really change whether people missed you or not. Some of the most terrible people she’d ever seen had wives or sons or daughters who loved them and grieved for them. Some of the best people she had ever met died alone, and had no one to even bother with a proper funeral.
Dulce didn’t deal with the loved ones. She put an end to people and then disappeared, leaving someone else to deal with the aftermath. She pulled a thread and then was gone. She didn’t care to see that ugly after, the sobbing loved ones. That put too much humanity into it. An assassin didn’t bother with humanity. They saw a simple solution, usually to a problem that was bigger than one person, but maybe one person’s death was a solution for now.
So letters from a grieving son to his dead mother were a fuck no as far as she was concerned. She didn’t even steal these, just quickly shut the box and hid it back in the drawers and stood up and tried to forget she’d even stumbled into that horrifically personal drawer.
How interesting though that he kept these things here, but the letters that appeared to be from a potential lover in the other desk, with his studies and work. She thought he must have a reason, but couldn’t make sense of it… curious. She picked up the paperweight on his desk just because it looked like something nice to hold; it had been holding down a series of loose papers which revealed themselves to be puzzles. Each page had a few paragraphs of a story and then a puzzle to be solved. Dulce tilted her head and leaned against the desk; she’d never heard of this kind of thing before but it seemed interesting.
Facing out to the room though now alerted her to a presence. In the doorway of the room, just sitting right there, nose twitching, was a rabbit. A big gray fluffy rabbit. The surprise appearance was shocking enough, but the way it was just watching her was creepy. She was certain she hadn’t seen the rabbit so far in her search, and also certain she hadn’t accidentally opened any cages. She had an excellent skill for detecting motion but had not seen anything moving freely around the rooms.
Which made her freeze completely and listen for a voice or footsteps, anything to mean someone had entered the apartment without her realizing it.
Probably she only heard the door open because she was listening closely. In that way, the rabbit had done her a favor. The door did in fact open though into the sitting room, and quick footsteps clicked along the stone floor, muffled occasionally by rugs.
Dulce set the paperweight down quickly and quietly. She had a matter of seconds to figure out an escape path as the steps came down the hall. She couldn’t predict where they were going, so it wouldn’t be safe to go into the bathroom. The reading nook was an option but the water cushion would cause movement and might attract attention. She hadn’t looked closely at the windows to see if it was a steep drop and berated herself but there wasn’t time now, and she was not willing to risk a blind leap.
In a fit of rage at her own stupidity, Dulce dropped to the floor and rolled under the bed. Like a child. There wasn’t even a bed curtain, so if the person bent down, they’d see her. Thank goodness at least the bed was huge, so she could roll to the middle and feel confident no shadow would give her away. If they did see her, she’d have a time of it trying to flee though.
Just in time, the steps entered the bedroom. Dulce studied the boots. They were nice, black, shiny, but not the prince’s. She waited in anticipation as the man strode into the closet, focused on slowing her breath to keep herself calm and in control. The valet?
While he was in the closet, Dulce moved closer to the edge. Fuck, this was the stupidest way to potentially get caught. But she could better see now, so when the man came out of the closet, she recognized the tutor. Hoseok Jung. He had a pair of shoes in his hand and a long sash looped over his arm and a look of determination on his face as he perused the vanity for something else.
The mirror behind him caught Dulce’s attention –she confirmed he wouldn’t see her but– but shit, the rabbit! The rabbit was to the side of the bed, staring under the bed at her. Dulce sent some very rude thoughts in the rabbit’s direction because not only was that even creepier, but if Hoseok noticed the rabbit in the mirror, he was probably going to wonder why it was staring under the bed.
Dulce was no stranger to rabbits, though not exactly a friend either. As a girl she’d fed the wild ones that lived behind her family’s house, only to be devastated when they’d get caught and killed for food. But this domesticated ball of fluff was nothing like those little wiry things, plus it was behaving in a creepy way. Still, Dulce rolled quickly towards the rabbit, reached an arm out, and scooped it under the bed with her.
Fortunately, the rabbit didn’t fight her off or scream or anything. She had expected it to, and then she’d kick it away and hopefully it would take off running and Hoseok would chase after it or just think it was behaving weird. But once the rabbit was under the bed with her, as Dulce held her breath that Hoseok hadn’t noticed or heard the soft swish of her movements, the rabbit hopped over her arm, pressed its face to her neck, and settled down.
That was not what she had expected to happen.
But the rabbit was quiet, so Dulce remained still, and within a few minutes, Hoseok took his things and was gone. Dulce let out a silent sigh of relief and wriggled out from under the bed. It was all a clear sign that she needed to leave now; she doubted there was anything else worth finding in here and if so, Nasimiyu could find it her damn self. If the Prince had anything truly heinous hidden, she wasn’t going to find it without digging deep, and there was no telling how much time she had.
She checked her bag to make sure the letters were still tucked there safely, and glanced around to ensure she hadn’t left anything behind or obviously askew. Getting out the door would be the riskiest part. She paused beside it, listening for any commotion in the hall, but the doors were too thick to hear through.
The damn rabbit had followed her. She looked down at it, just sitting there on the rug, twitching its nose at her.
Bring me something useful, Nasimiyu had said. She had the letters, but without really knowing the contents, it was possible they’d infuriate Nasimiyu. If Seokjin had a close and intimate lover before this, honestly Dulce thought that might be something Nasimiyu was better off not knowing. The Princess was not good at sharing, even with the past. Depending on the details, it might make her hate Seokjin even more than she already did. It might give her a reason to hate him rather than just detesting him simple for his existence. How stupid Nasimiyu had accused her of hating men! She might hate his title and what he stood for, but so far everything Dulce learned about the Prince made her think he as a person was just weird and ineffective.
Dulce was not an expert at seducing men but she had to make a decision in the moment and it occurred to her that hey, a returned runaway rabbit could be a great bonding moment, right?
So she scooped the rabbit up, tucked it into her bag, and then cracked the door just enough to listen for footsteps, breathing, the rustle of fabric.
When the coast was clear, she stepped out, closed the door, and was gone before the guards knew a thing. Which was not how security was supposed to work but apparently they felt very safe in this palace. That would be useful for Nasimiyu someday too.
She walked quickly through the palace without stopping until she reached Nasimiyu’s room and slipped inside. No one was back yet. She cracked open her bag to peek inside, half expecting the rabbit to just have suddenly died or something. Instead it poked its head up, nose twitching, and looked at her with those same inscrutable dark eyes.
“I hid under a bed and kidnapped a rabbit while snooping through a bedroom,” Dulce realized in full sum. “What the fuck am I becoming?”
The rabbit said nothing, just twitched its nose.
“For fucks sake…”
Seokjin wished his mother was here.
It was impossible not to think of that, to long for her presence, as he sat uncomfortably on a sittan and tried to participate in the planning of his wedding. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, far from it! Truth be told, he had daydreamed about this day far more than he was willing to admit to anyone, even Jimin, who stood by the door in case he was needed. He was needed, as a friend, but to reveal such a close friendship in front of the royal family of Marvono and his own father would be foolish.
Yes, King Dong-gun had even come. He sat in a high-backed upholstered chair, one elbow on the ornate armrest, making sure a glass of wine was never far from his mouth. Seokjin didn’t think his presence had anything to do with his son though, nor any real interest in the planning of his major life-changing day in his son’s life. Seokjin thought it had more to do with reclaiming some dignity after there had been whispers following his abrupt end of court yesterday, and an understanding he needed to seem as invested in this marriage as Prince Hamisi was.
Because of course Prince Hamisi was here, forgoing all food and drink as he leaned forward and argued for whatever Princess Namisiyu expressed an interest in. Seokjin didn’t know a father would ever be as passionate about his daughter’s wedding as Prince Hamisi was –even Princess Simisola didn’t seem to have as many opinions. Even cousin Zselyke seemed surprised by how staunchly Prince Hamisi would argue for whatever answer Nasimiyu gave to the event planner’s questions.
They’d started with location, and while Seokjin thought a beach wedding would be romantic, Nasimiyu insisted the palace was proper.
Then they had to decide public or private and while Seokjin wanted a private ceremony, Nasimiyu wanted public, with a ride through the city with attendants who would toss out gifts to the commoners. That sounded like a bit much to Seokjin but Nasimiyu thought it was important to have an “act of service” around the wedding and Prince Hamisi agreed it was important for the common folk of Priva to accept her as Seokjin’s wife.
“There hasn’t been a woman in the palace since the beloved late Queen and that is of course a very difficult seat to fill–”
“I’ve been here,” cousin Zselyke pointed out testily from her seat beside Seokjin. Her mouth was pursed into that tight round circle it always was when she was angry but trying to hold it together, like she was sucking something sour through a straw.
“Yes but no one knows who you are,” King Dong-gun dismissed with a wave of his hand. “And no one knows who Princess Nasimiyu is. This will be her big introduction. If she wants to hurl candies at the commoners then so be it.”
“Something nicer than candy,” Nasimiyu corrected. “I’m not sure what yet. Perhaps Seokjin has an idea?”
It made him feel funny to hear her say his name still, but he scrambled, trying to participate. He only came up with,
“Maybe food?”
“Yes… maybe food will work…”
“People get hungry if they’re standing in line to see a parade for a long time.”
“I’m sure they do,” she said. He couldn’t tell if she actually liked his idea or not, but the event planner moved them along.
There would be the ceremony of course. Nasimiyu asked King Dong-gun to be the officiant and Seokjin’s father laughed until he was red in the face and insisted he didn’t want to do that.
“It’s a wedding,” he argued. “The attention is on you children, not the King.”
“But it would mean so much to me to have your blessing–”
“I’m allowing you to marry my son, that’s blessing enough.”
“What about Father--”
“No, it’s not his place,” Princess Simisola quickly corrected. It suddenly struck him that she would in fact become his mother-in-law when he wed Nasimiyu. He hadn’t spared much of a thought towards the woman so far, but now he looked at the way she reclined in the corner of the comfortable sofa, sipping tea, one elbow on the side, perfectly at ease, like she was used to watching her husband and daughter lean in and only occasionally weighed in herself. Was she the laid back variety? She had liked the gardens. Seokjin thought she might be nice. Would he ever have much of a relationship with her? Not that he expected she would become his replacement mother or anything but it might be nice to have a maternal woman in the palace– though she had no plans on staying, he recalled.
Zselyke was really as far from maternal as you could get and only about ten years older than him. Seokjin had only made the mistake of crying about his mother in front of her once, and Zselyke had seemed utterly confused why an adolescent boy would openly grieve his mother. She had asked if he wanted to throw a ball. No. No, he had not wanted to throw a ball.
And Zselyke was not a romantic, she didn’t have a romantic bone in her body; this was all formality to her. She had little to offer in this meeting that didn’t annoy her late father’s elder brother, King Dong-gun, when she’d suggest that the expense for this or that didn’t make sense, or that the reception should only have eight courses instead of twelve because people would get bored, and that they should keep the guestlist for the reception small to make it feel more elite.
“Nonsense, we should have as many people as we can fit,” Nasimiyu said, only to blink when Zselyke gasped and both of her parents started. Nonsense. She’d talked down to a woman still currently superior to her in title, and it amused Seokjin.
“No one should be sensitive about titles in here, we’re about to be family,” he suggested. “If the wedding is supposed to introduce the people to Nasimiyu, we should make it as big as she likes. I only intend to marry once so I expect we can afford just the one wedding. We could be private with the ceremony.” He tried to sound casual about it, secretly hoping Nasimiyu would agree: private ceremony, and then she could have her big party. The bigger the party, the less likely anyone would pay much attention to him; he could ply them all with alcohol and disappear for a while, if Nasimiyu didn’t want to retire early. Then come back to fetch her for the wedding night… oh right, that…
Before he could finish celebrating his casual suggestion, Nasimiyu argued, “If we have a private ceremony, there are those who may claim it didn’t happen.”
“Why?” Seokjin asked, confused by the suggestion.
King Dong-gun looked indifferent and said, “If people wish to doubt your place in the family, they will find a reason to do so, the wedding ceremony doesn’t matter. A big lavish affair, is that what you children want?”
No, Seokjin felt the answer in his gut. He wanted a small, intimate ceremony on the beach followed by a local meal, maybe just Yoongi cooking for them –only them, a small ceremony with only the sort of casual dancing you could do on a sandy beach, with music, with a sunset providing the entertainment, with someone you trusted, someone you could relax with.
The image was so visceral that for a moment Seokjin felt like he’d been transported. Too much time fantasizing about this day, that was his problem right now. Even with an arranged marriage, he had imagined his intended being charmed by him, starry-eyed, relaxed in his arms as they privately agreed to love each other forever and be a partnership, a team, two halves of a whole in a way Seokjin had longed for his entire lonely life.
But those dreams didn’t fit Nasimiyu. She leaned in towards the table, as if she could eagerly grab the wedding and shape it into reality right now, she was so excited. That was endearing! Seokjin was relieved she was so excited, he hadn’t expected that. But the things she was excited about were so completely opposite the things he wanted, to the point he had to choose between two totally different paths. Obviously he would choose Nasimiyu’s wishes here; it was important to him that this day be one she enjoyed and recalled fondly for the rest of their long lives together. This should have been a cause for celebration!
Yet Seokjin couldn’t help but wonder, was it a good or a bad thing that their desires for the wedding were opposite? Did it mean they would balance each other out in life and prove a stable, peaceful couple once they learned how to work together? Or did it mean they were too different and their life would be a constant battle?
His mother would have known what to say, he was sure of it. She would be able to find just the right thread to tug to bring he and Nasimiyu together, even in planning this wedding. Nasimiyu would have loved his mother, he was sure of it, because how could anyone not? Everyone had loved her. The world had been better when she was there, maybe not perfect, but she’d been just the right balance for King Dong-gun. She’d lent heart to his father’s rule and Priva had been the better for it. Her rule had been firm but fair, sometimes driven by tough love, but love all the same.
“Seokjin?”
Hearing his name in Nasimiyu’s smooth voice pulled him back. She had asked him a question, judging by her expression.
Immediately he went into performance mode, gesturing with his hands as he explained, “I’m envisioning it all in my mind. Are there flowers? Or not flowers?”
“Yes to flowers, of course,” Nasimiyu said, and Seokjin felt his spirit lift. “Would you select them?” Nasimiyu continued.
Simisola immediately suggested, “We could work together–”
But Nasimiyu stunned Seokjin, insisting, “He knows flowers, Mama, I’m sure he can pick the right ones.”
“Yes I’ll take this task very seriously,” he insisted. “And… food?”
“There should be a fusion menu,” Hamisi insisted. “We will send for several of our cooks to work with yours in creating the menu. It will need to be better than anything we have seen so far.” Would Yoongi be grateful or annoyed if Seokjin insisted on him as the head chef for the event? It would be a major promotion but require working closely with others and potentially catering to the whims of both the Kims and the Marvonese royal family…
Seokjin watched the wedding grow bigger and bigger until he couldn’t even see himself and Nasimiyu at the center of it. It wasn’t an intimate private romantic ceremony, it was a public event, that was the summary of it. His wedding would be just another public event.
“What about a separate private ceremony first?” he suggested. “Just the…” He trailed off as everyone looked at him with varying degrees of confusion and dismissal. “Nevermind. Um… tour afterwards? A honeymoon?”
“You should come to Marvono!” Simisola insisted. “You should see the home of your bride.”
“Mama, we’ll want to go somewhere new.”
“Yes, we could go everywhere,” Seokjin suggested, seeing his chance. He’d always wanted to travel to the far borders of Yeonhalbi, and this would be the perfect opportunity. He and Nasimiyu could have the time to explore together and learn about each other and rely on each other together, away from all the noise and expectations of their roles.
“That might take too long,” Nasimiyu suggested, but smiling. “And we’ll have many years to travel everywhere. For starters, what about Therepin?”
“It’s not very… romantic,” he said and didn’t appreciate the way all four older adults suddenly laughed. Laughed at him! Like he was a child! But it was true, Therepin was beautiful but also a place of religion and books and refined fun –from what he’d heard. He did want to go there, but not on his honeymoon! Plus there would be noise while they were there. He wanted to go somewhere they could blend in, really get a sense of the locals, maybe somewhere their faces wouldn’t be known…
But even as he thought these things, he looked at Nasimiyu and couldn’t see her in that setting. Did he really expect this beautiful, elegant woman to stay in a mountain village in Paloma and eat from a street cart and dress in locally made trousers?
He was marrying a princess. He didn’t want to start their marriage fighting about where to honeymoon. She didn’t even like him yet, so envisioning all these romantic things was pointless anyway. He had to win her over first, and letting her have the wedding and honeymoon of her dreams was a good start.
So he nodded, “All right, I don’t know, maybe Therepin is romantic if our parents say so.”
“You have five months to change your mind,” King Dong-gun suggested.
Seokjin’s blood ran cold. He looked at his father with horror that he would suggest such a thing, and just because they didn’t instantly agree on where to honeymoon?!
Cousin Zselyke quickly clarified, “About where to go for the honeymoon.”
“Yes, exactly.” King Dong-gun looked at their faces and laughed, “Did you think I meant about the marriage? There’s no reason for that. This is a good match and you children will obviously be very happy together. My son is very accommodating for everything the Princess wants, and the Princess will be happy to live the life afforded her by the crown.”
Seokjin saw Nasimiyu’s mouth level into a thin line and understood that had annoyed her, but he couldn’t quite figure out what or why yet. He didn’t know her sensitivities but he was learning her tastes, and they seemed expensive. That was fine with him! She was marrying the royal prince, so good for her, she would get the life she wanted!
“The timeline for this,” the event planner said, nudging the meeting back onto the path through the awkward silence. “November, yes? Or would you prefer December?”
“November,” Seokjin quickly said, then glanced at Nasimiyu to make sure she wasn’t about to insist on the winter month and he’d just put his foot in it.
She seemed surprised and asked, “Oh? Not December?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, it’s just a little sooner than the six months form the day I arrived.”
“Oh. Well if you want to wait–”
“I don’t,” she insisted, looking sincere about it.
“I just thought the six months was more a suggestion… but my birthday is in early December and it would be nice to be married before then.”
“Oh. Yes, that makes sense, we should make sure the wedding does not overlap with your birthday celebration. And you’ll want to be back from the honeymoon before then, won’t you?”
So many questions and Seokjin was wearing down. How did he say whatever you think is best to Nasimiyu without it sounding like he was just going to take a tailing position towards her for the rest of their lives? Or, even worse, give the impression he didn’t care about any of this and expected her to just do it all herself?
“November 1st,” Zselyke jumped in to suggest. “You could travel to Therepin for the full month and be back just in time. I can manage the preparation for Seokjin’s birthday festivities on my own, like I do every year.”
Seokjin cringed at that as his father chuckled, “Yes, she’s eager for the prestige. She’d plan the wedding herself too if we let her!”
“These things are important! They show the world how important the merging of our families is. This is our opportunity to celebrate the bond of our children,” she insisted. “We don’t want a poor showing! We want Nasimiyu to be very happy here.”
Seokjin felt like something political was happening that he didn’t understand, with the way Zselyke smiled at Nasimiyu and Simisola. He didn't care to try and figure it out. He was just tired now. This meeting seemed to him to confirm that their marriage might be a good one, but it would never be the deep soul romance he longed for. That’s what this meant, right? It was a formality. Nasimiyu was coming to be the royal princess and someday queen and she seemed ready for the role, and he should theoretically step up his dedication to being a good king someday, but love… would there ever be love? What was love anyway? Was it awe and bewilderment at the beauty of your betrothed? Surely it wasn’t fear of saying the wrong thing and them leaving you in an instant.
“I have enough now to begin,” the event planner said, rising. “My team will begin. My only concern with the timeline will be if those we invite from other principalities will be willing to travel on short notice.”
“They will,” Seokjin’s father assured her with that steel in his voice. They will or else.
“If they can’t arrange travel in four months, why are they even in power? What do they use their money for?” Prince Hamisi agreed.
The event planner nodded, “Very well. I will begin the plans and lists. We will meet again soon.” It was a threat as much as a promise and then the event planner was gone like her skirts were on fire. Seokjin wondered if maybe the four months was not so ideal to her as it was to them. If it had been up to him, they could just have the small private ceremony he wanted next week! The sooner they were wed, the less likely Nasimiyu was to call the whole thing off.
He was so tired. He wanted to be alone now, alone with his animals and his books and maybe a nice puzzle, straight forward, something he could focus on and solve in a single day and no one starved or died if he couldn’t figure it out.
“You have my blessing to figure it out, let me know if you need anything from me besides money,” his father said, and clapped him on the shoulder, which was more physical affection than he normally got. Then he extended that hand to Hamisi, “Care for an afternoon drink?”
They were gone, Seokjin not invited. Simisola and Nasimiyu muttered something about a rest and meeting with a dressmaker and disappeared, leaving Seokjin to escort his cousin.
“Disappointed?” she asked as she slid her hand into his elbow. “You seemed to get nothing you wanted.”
Seokjin shrugged, “I get a wife. I don’t care about anything in particular, as long as she’s happy.” He nodded at Jimin and Edmund, who fell in step behind him.
“You’re a romantic at heart like your mother, I know,” Zselyke told him with a knowing smile. He always resented when she did that actually. She had barely been around when his mother was alive, had begged not to be stuck in court here with her even during her coming of age, but now she’d speak sonnets about his mother as if they’d been the best of friends. “Some love is upon sight, Seokjin, but some forms with time and work, but it’s not less strong. Five months is enough time to fall in love, or maybe it will take years, there's no race.”
Seokjin failed to bite back his sarcastic, “I’m so glad you’re here to guide me on love and matters of the heart. What was your own wedding like?”
She read the tone instantly and withdrew her hand, scoffing, “Your mother’s heart but you have your father’s sharp tongue. That won’t do you any favors with a woman. Go snuggle a rabbit or whatever it is you do when you’re in a mood like this.”
She was gone in a second, her own maid trailing after her. Seokjin felt half bad and half relieved. He let his shoulders sag and didn’t say anything to his retinue as he walked a little more quickly to his bedroom. He wouldn’t even need to tell them to get lost, they’d understand. Intense periods of socialization like that always led to him retreating into his bedroom –yes, to snuggle with a rabbit or to flop out on his water cushion and let the breeze and view carry him away, maybe into one of the stories he’d bring along. The rumors were getting louder, the new Kalamouche would be out soon, he was positive of it! That was something to look forward to. That felt both more attainable and more enjoyable dreams than this massive wedding Nasimiyu was leading him into.
They reached the bedroom and Edmund stayed outside.
“Do you want to change into something more comfortable?” Jimin asked him, voice gentle, like he was a bawling small child.
“I can do it. Have your break,” Seokjin insisted before stepping inside and shutting the door on everyone and everything.
A couple birds had alighted in one of the trees in the garden. He put seed out for them, to encourage it, though it did mean shit to clean up every week. He liked the chirping though. He stretched his arms, knocking the doorway overhead just for the satisfying deep thump as he passed from the living room and along to his bedroom. Jimin had already set out the things he’d wear for dinner; they looked elegant and charming and uncomfortable. Instead he found a soft pair of trousers and forewent a shirt at all and then went in search of his rabbit to snuggle.
“Lettie,” he called, surprised now she hadn’t come running right up to him. She usually did, since he left her cage door open most of the time. Now he freed Lord Sciurus and the piggies and checked that the others were sleeping. Lord Sciurus’ nails in his flesh made him flinch as the squirrel climbed right up, but he didn’t chase him off, just laughed and pulled his trousers back up where the little scrabbling hands had dragged the waistband down. “But stay still, don’t cut me up,” he warned the squirrel. Then, “Lettie!”
No little bunny came scurrying and now Seokjin started to worry. He checked under the couches and under his bed. He checked the lower drawers in case she had hoped into something and he’d shut her up without realizing it. He moved all the blankets and tore his bed apart in case she had somehow got in; he didn’t allow animals in the bed but it wouldn’t be the first time they defied him. He dragged things around in the closet, and then did a quick pass again. Still no Lettie.
“Lettuce Constance Temperance, come here now,” he called with his most authoritative voice. He froze and listened but all he could hear were the piggies squeaking.
In the garden. Suddenly he realized that the doors were open. He didn’t leave those open on purpose ever. He put bird seed out but if one of his furry friends got out there on their own, a predatory bird might come down and make off with them. Lettie was pretty solid and there’d be no arc for the swoop but… but it could happen, right?
“Lettie,” he squeaked, starting to panic as he ran around the patio, looking for any signs of her or of an untimely end met. He didn’t find any blood, any tufts of fur, but also no hiding rabbit.
He ran to the door from his room and threw it open, calling, “Edmund, get Jimin and…. And Jungkook and Hoseok or whoever is around… Lettie’s gone, I– I think a bird might have taken her or something? I don’t know. Get Jimin, please, fast. Or… Taehyung! In the stables– no, he won’t know what to do…” Would a game master be able to help him track her? Yes, that made the most sense. No one else knew anything about animals.
He felt the blood rushing to his head as his heart went into overtime. If Lettie was gone, if she was lost, because he’d forgotten and left the stupid doors open… he’d never forgive himself. She was such a good girl! He had to find her. Even if a bird had flown away with her, he’d find the bird and then he’d…
He’d figure it out when he got there, that was what.
He went to throw a shirt and boots on so he could begin the search in earnest.
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#seokjin fics#kim seokjin ff#seokjin x oc#seokjin fic#prince jin#bts ff#bts fanfiction#kim seokjin fanfiction#kim seokjin fic#kim seokjin smut#kim seokjin x oc#seokjin x reader#kim seokjin e2l#arranged marriage#kim seokjin#royalty au#jin smut#jin fic#bts smut#jin x oc#jin e2l#tkak#tokillaking#to kill a king
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another excerpt into chp 2 I'm doing currently
Jujutsu Kaisen x Trigun
Warnings: Gojo bought Vash some clothes and doughnuts.
You were about to call Gojo when the man knocked on the door himself letting himself in. This time having his blindfold on instead of Sunglasses. “Yo!” Your eyes widened seeing him with a couple of shopping bags full of clothes. A few boxes, one was a dozen doughnuts, a pizza and the other mixed pastries. “Figured our Friend would be hungry, and need clothes to fit in. At least without looking like a complete cosplayer.”
Vash sniffed the air, before it seemed to be sparkles around his face and in his eyes. “Are those doughnuts?!” Instantly Vash shot over to Gojo taking the boxes out of his arm and hugged him with his free arm. “You’re a real life savor Mister!” Without a second word he took a doughnut and chomped down on it. “MMMM SO GOOD~”
Gojo walked over to you with a sort of swagger, handing the bags of clothes to you. “Here. I figured you’d need these.” Gojo looked over to Vash amused as he was working on his third doughnut.
You looked into the bag and nearly feinted. “WHAT THE HELL SATORU?!” You cried out noticing how expensive everything was. “THIS SHIRT IS 250,000 YEN?! And there are 5?!”
“Not to mention pants, underwear, shoes. Just the essentials.” Gojo said casually, as he raised a finger up, saying it just casually.
Your soul left your body, as Vash paused tilting his head. “wait if 61,000 for the figurine was a lot, I assume…” Vash’s eyes widened nearly dropping the doughnut he was holding, half of it was gone. “I don’t need anything that expensive!”
Gojo sighed at that shaking his head. “Will you two pipe down. You’re acting like money is important or something.” Gojo moved to pat your head for a moment. “So what?”
You sighed brushing his hand off of your head. “Will you stop that! Shouldn’t you be trying to preserve what money you have or something?”
Gojo grinned, shrugging while waiving his hands. “To be fair, it’s paper, it’s meant to be spent. Having it laying around collecting dust is useless.”
Vash picked back up the doughnut since it landed onto the coffee table. “He has a point…” He bit into the doughnut once more and spoke while eating, “The purpose of money is to help stimulate the flow of the economy….” He swallowed the bite.
Gojo beamed at that, or what would be considered beaming with his blindfold on and what not. “See he gets it!”
“Can’t say I’m comfortable wearing stuff like that...but I guess...as the saying goes, can’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Thank you.” Vash stated nodding into Gojos direction
Gojo however flashed you a smile, “Does that mean you’ll let me spend money on you too?”
“Please don’t…” You sighed.
“When can I go back?” Vash questioned. “Not that I’m ungrateful or anything...but I do have to…”
Gojo waved his hand, lifting his cell phone “OH LOOK I have a mission! Take care you two~” Instantly the man teleported, causing Vash to deadpan and run a hand down his face.
“COME ON~ Is he always like this?!” Vash pouted giving you a look, “are you sure you can’t send me back?”
You bit your lip feeling bad, and looked off to the side, Vash couldn’t help but think that it was cute. “Unfortunately yeah he’s always like this. And no I can’t send you back...We’ll need Gojo.” You tilted your head. “I can’t even call him out on this, it could be a farce, but it could be a legit mission to any part of the world.” You sighed holding your hands up like Gojo did earlier.
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CLOURADATES NOVEL IDEA
Humans have begun hunting, trapping, killing and relocating their kind to traveling circuses and other sideshow attractions. Despite the Clouradates fondness for these communal living situations they have become unhappy with the treatment they receive from humans, once they were feared or revered across the globe now relegated to simple sidewalk or traveling entertainment. It was a bitter pill to swallow. Many older clowns remember how they were once treated by the humans and find the current circumstances nothing more than a farce, a way for the humans to control and contain them. Not only has their plan worked it has also had unintended side effects; the once great clown species has dwindled almost entirely and gone are their cunning and instinctual hunting and killing skills. It is obvious in the lack of dots shown on pelts. The Jesters seems to have cowered to the humans self- domesticating and becoming more pet then the once intelligent predator they were, the jesters where always the most intelligent of the Clouradates but now they were mere shadows of themselves being treated as more of a decoration or conversation piece then a real threat which they naturally are.
And the mimes once the strongest of our species are now feared hunted and sequestered from their own kind to attempt to slow or completely stagnate tier breeding process,the mimes illusion ability to seemingly create and affect etheric constructions make them a much harder foe to overcome therefore they have culled their numbers and segregated them from one another due to the mimes fondness for pack hunting
The beginning of the cull, then the humans segregated their kinds putting them in camps and in human controlled cities were they were outnumbered and controlled for the entertainment of the masses they provided, over time the humans began to forget what the clouradates were and the predatory instincts that still resided deep within them They became complacent forgetting the fear the clouradate can create, with this lapse in control again the clouradates began their inevitable rise to power slowly they began with raising their numbers across all species, then they slowly rose to power within the confines of the circuses and entertainment venues in which they were enslaved. With control over the circuses and venues and their numbers steadily growing they began planning the carnival where all three species across the planet would congregate together and plan the next step in their rise to power to take back their rightful place as alpha predator of the food chain.
The carnival was to be held in Europe in a small undisclosed village. It’s not known how this information was passed on between the three species but sure enough on April fools day all known clouradates went missing. It was only due to the access of satellites they were able to locate the hoard in europe. The humans who over time have forgotten the true nature of the clouradates simply assumed it was some sort of gathering of the species and didn’t really seem to concerned about the conglomeration, the Carnival lasted only a week but in that time a lot of strange reports came in from cities and villages surrounding the area where the Carnival was taking place. For instance those who traveled to the area to see the large gathering for themselves spoke of others who had gotten closer than 5 miles of the carnival itself and had disappeared. It is not sure what came of them but the horror stories that returned from that place would spark ideas that would make even the strongest of willed whither and shake. Stories of hearing the blood curdling cries of those who had attracted the attention of the Clouradates others said the horrific noises came from the Clouradates themselves although no one ever got close enough and returned to actually find out what was happening within the makeshift parameters of the Carnival. After the first few days though things seemed to changed the raucous activity of the clouradates seemed to lessen and they began to erect a massive structure which could only be defined as a circus tent however it didn't seem to follow the laws of human physics with turrets, steeples and big tops jutting from places and angles that didn't seem physically possible. After the erection of this massive structure all the clouradates were thought to go inside as none were seen on the carnival grounds afterwards for the remainder of the Carnival which lasted 4 more days. Upon their re-appearance from the large structure the Clouradates seemed to disperse either alone or in small groups or tribes heading back to their respective circuses, domains and other traveling sideshows and back alley from which they had suddenly sprang. Over the next few years the Clouradates became more emboldened, stories of attacks and deaths at the hands of these mysterious creatures became more common especially in the urban cities. At first people stopped associating with the mimes that scavenged and entertained for food in the street, then the jester owners began abandoning or giving up their ownership of the self-domesticated creatures. Lastly the traveling attractions and circuses were no longer classed as entertainment or intriguing but something to fear and avoid, something which small towns and cities began to arm themselves against in a bid of self preservation
Human specialists from all walks scrambled to find an answer, with all their science and technology they were able to discover that everything tracked back to the Carnival something had occurred during that strange ritual of the Clouradates ever since then they have changed slowly reverting back to their original archetypes, their animal instincts were breaking through after everything they had endured at the hands of the humans. People began to realize that these crazy, creepy creatures amongst them were truly something to fear and not just a playful fool or mystical trickster but in fact a species of ageless and brutal predators that had once been controlled and forced into submission by the human ancestors now something has changed something has given them the motivation to fight back, break free from their human constraints and reclaim their place as the earth's alpha predators.
No one was prepared for what was to come next…
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Have you ever noticed how when you're driving on a highway and you see a sign for a rest stop, but then you pass it and there's no actual rest stop there, but then you keep driving and you see another sign for a rest stop and you think to yourself, "Maybe this time there will actually be a rest stop," but then you pass that one too and there's still no rest stop and you start to wonder if the rest stops are just a figment of your imagination, but then you finally see a rest stop and you pull off the highway and you're like, "Thank goodness, I really needed to use the bathroom," but then you go inside and there's no toilet paper in the bathroom, so you have to use your shirt, and then you come back outside and there's a chicken standing on your car and you're like, "What is going on? This is the strangest day ever," and then you start to wonder if you're actually dreaming or if this is all just a hallucination brought on by some kind of toxic gas leak, but then you realize that none of this makes any sense and you have no idea why you're even thinking about all of this in the first place? Do you know what I mean?
I...am not familiar with what a "highway" or "rest stop" is, and I've unfortunately never driven anything beyond the occasional carriage. But if I'm right in assuming this is a metaphor of sorts...I believe I understand.
Hoping there will be rest, thinking it's just beyond the horizon. You wait so long and start to lose hope, but...it's there. An end to the suffering. But it's never quite as good as imagined, is it? Even if it was, you start realizing it was never real to begin with. Just some farce, a dream of a deluded mind. But even if it's simply a dream, maybe it's better to live happily in a lie than to suffer in the truth.
Maybe...
But that has already been decided for me.
#(ask)#Cat: Ques#Sbj: TET#Even now#I'm not sure if this isn't a dream...#Nothing seems real.#(didn't think I could make a serious response out of that ask now didja?)
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Initiative - aka NMJ and JYL get engaged - ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2
Jiang Yanli’s first engagement had been announced when she was three and a half years old – there had been a big party, festooned in color, exquisitely and meticulously planned out in advance, and she’d been obliged to stand on stage next to a baby in a cradle that had done nothing but cry and spit as all the adults around her congregated and congratulated each other on the excellent match.
She hadn’t enjoyed that at all.
Her second wedding announcement was simultaneously more casual and more noteworthy, and she enjoyed it tremendously.
Madame Jin had sent several invitations to Jiang Yanli to come visit Lanling in advance of the hunt planned for Phoenix Mountain, speaking of how beautiful it was and how much she looked forward to seeing her good friend’s daughter – talking about she’d always regretted how Jiang Yanli had been obligated by circumstances to take shelter at the Unclean Realm rather than in Lanling City, although she’d been pleased to hear from her son that she was doing well – all the right sort of words. The words might have been more welcome if Jiang Yanli hadn’t known that Madame Jin was still intent on securing the marriage she had arranged.
If she hadn’t been engaged, she would have accepted the invitation, hoping to form an alliance for her sect through a close relationship with Madame Jin even if she didn’t have one with Jin Zixuan (no matter what Madame Jin hoped), but as she was, in fact, engaged to another – even if it hadn’t been formally announced – it would be inappropriate to go. So she instead played ignorant and responded graciously, protesting that she couldn’t possibly impose, that the rebuilding at the Lotus Pier needed her, but that she would of course be happy to attend the hunt alongside the rest of her sect.
She arrived at her brother’s side, smiling all the while.
Her second engagement was announced like this: Sect Leader Jin, using his newly legitimized son as his mouthpiece, had brought forward some ghastly ‘entertainment’ that involved shooting at helpless prisoners, tied up in chains. Jin Zixuan had complied, but Wei Wuxian had marched out and disrupted everything by showing off to a ridiculous extent – Nie Mingjue, who had been watching with a black face full of rage but unable to speak due to propriety, had started applauding very loudly and very enthusiastically – and Sect Leader Jin had ordered the prisoners taken away.
“Well, then,” he said, clapping as if he had impressed himself: as if they hadn’t just been subjected to a powerplay under the guise of hospitality, as if everyone would be over-awed by his might now that they had seen him abuse the helpless while they were all forced by the rules of etiquette to say nothing or else risk carrying the blame for trying to start another war. “Absent anything else, we should proceed to the hunt itself, where await you only the finest of prey and the sharpest competition among your peers.”
For the further display of the power of the Jin sect, he meant.
“Actually,” Nie Mingjue said, interjecting in a moment in which Sect Leader Jin had paused to take a breath so that it was technically not an interruption, “there is one thing. A request, in fact.”
Sect Leader Jin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he maintained his false smile. “Of course, Sect Leader Nie. What can I do for you?”
“I’m getting married,” Nie Mingjue said. “The bride is Young Mistress Jiang, of Yunmeng Jiang, and I would like –” He raised his voice to overcome the abrupt explosion of talk that had erupted. “– I would like to have her accompany my sect in today’s hunt. I hope that doesn’t interfere with your plans for a competition between the sects?”
There were those who said that Jiang Yanli’s chosen husband was bad at politics, and they might even be right. But it didn’t really matter in the end if he’d thought of the idea on a whim or if it’d been a prearranged plan by Nie Huaisang, who was cleverer than he liked to let on to people, Jiang Yanli’s future husband had still wiped away in a single sentence all memory of the farce they’d all just endured and of the hunt that was yet to come, ensuring that the only thing anyone would remember about today was the shocking news of the engagement of the leader of one Great Sect to the sister of another.
(And if everyone remembered that at the last celebration hosted by Sect Leader Jin, he had proposed to resurrect the marriage between Jiang Yanli and his own son, instead, forcing her to publicly demur on vague terms…well, that just made it all the more satisfying.)
Now it was Sect Leader Jin’s turn to scowl and glare, and Madame Jin’s expression looked no less thunderous, but in the end Jiang Yanli got to go with the Nie sect on the hunt.
“You know I’ll only slow you down,” she said to Nie Mingjue, who snorted.
“No more than Huaisang will,” he said, and if his face was stern and his voice gruff then she still thought she detected fondness and humor beneath it. “Besides, it’ll be a good opportunity to measure you.”
It turned out that he meant that more literally than she might have thought.
Jiang Yanli was promptly whisked away to the back of the Nie retinue by a small cadre of Nie disciples, men and women both. She was presented with a number of training sabers shaped out of wood and made to hold them in a variety of positions as they murmured things about stability and reach and balance as if they really, truly thought that she would actually use the saber they were preparing for her.
“This one,” Nie Jiahui, a steely older woman with silver in her hair and fierce eyes, eventually announced, and the practice saber Jiang Yanli had been waving around was taken away. She was then presented with one that was twice as heavy, for “practice”.
“Do you always practice with something heavier than the actual thing?” she asked, and Nie Jiahui nodded.
“Strengthens the shoulders,” she said, curt but not standoffish. “Have some candy.”
Jiang Yanli blinked, but smiled and accepted the offer. It was licorice, which she liked.
“Do you often carry candy with you on night-hunts?” she asked, listening to the sound of fighting from up ahead. Every so often, a disciple or two would trot by carrying the corpses of larger and larger creatures, slain in the fighting; it seemed that the Nie sect was not, in fact, being slowed down in the slightest by her presence.
Of course, she also wasn’t being tended to as if she were their chosen lady, either, as she might have otherwise expected – all pomp and flowery language, Nie Mingjue by her side at all times to show her around as if they were on a pleasure stroll – but in all honesty that would have been a little bewildering. It was very much not the Nie sect’s character, all practical and straightforward, and she found that she preferred it that way.
“It’s important to have something to replenish energy,” Nie Huaisang said, having dropped back to join them from the front. He looked tired and grumpy, but his saber appeared to have been put to some work; he immediately climbed up into the carriage that people were taking turns riding and started cleaning it. “And licorice candy clears the lungs.”
“Clears the lungs?” Jiang Yanli asked.
“It’s good for more than that,” Nie Jiahui said. “But that’s one of the uses, yes. Do you ever feel like your chest is too tight, especially when you move too much? Leading to coughing, shortness of breath, your lips turning blue?”
Jiang Yanli blinked. “Yes,” she said. “But that’s just because I was born with a weak body.”
Nie Jiahui scoffed and Nie Huaisang laughed. “Good luck with that,” he said cheerfully. “I was born with muscles that didn’t keep their tone: too flexible, incapable of gathering strength, requiring more energy to do less, making me twice as tired twice as fast – even sitting up straight can be a struggle in some extreme cases, though luckily not mine. And do you think that helped me one bit in getting out of saber training? It did not.”
“Early childhood intervention is best,” Nie Jiahui said. “But the next best is starting today. I’ll show you some low-impact exercises that you can start working on to strengthen your shoulders and stomach, as well as some balance movements to center yourself and improve your posture – that way, by the time your actual saber is ready, you’ll be able to take it through one of the basic routines.”
“I’m happy to learn whatever you have to teach,” Jiang Yanli said, ignoring Nie Huaisang’s dramatic cry of ‘And here I thought you’d be on my side!’ “I only regret troubling you.”
“Not at all,” Nie Jiahui said. “It’ll be good to have someone watching the Sect Leader’s back on night-hunts.”
Jiang Yanli felt a surge of terror and excitement in her belly. “He would trust me with that? You would trust me with that?”
“I did tell you that you’d need to keep up with him,” Nie Huaisang said mildly, and it was true, he had, only she’d assumed it was a bit more metaphorical. “You don’t have to fight or even walk too much, if it doesn’t suit you – my grandmother was lame in both her legs from a childhood illness, she rode everywhere, scariest woman I’ve ever met by far – but you do have to be there. Someone needs to be able to tell my brother to stop. Someone he’ll listen to.”
And wasn’t that something of a thrill to think of?
Jiang Yanli wasn’t someone anyone listened to – not her parents, not her brother, not her sect disciples. She’d always been the one who comforted them afterwards, who supported them; she made them food and tried to convince them to be kinder to each other, and sometimes they even tried for a while before getting into another tiff. They would kill for her if she so much as hinted at it, tear down the sky for her, but it was more in the nature of indulging her rather than actually allowing them to guide her.
Yet here was Chifeng-zun, a war hero and a sect leader, one of the most powerful men in the world, a man admired by men and sought after (even if only in their hearts) by women, and his family was telling her that he would listen to her.
“If you say so,” she demurred, but they insisted, and by the time the hunt was over Jiang Yanli was surprised to realize that she hadn’t needed to resort to sitting on the carriage more than twice the entire time.
“We’ll send Auntie Jiahui to the Lotus Pier after today’s hunt is done,” Nie Huaisang chattered cheerfully in her ear as they headed back towards Jinlin Tower. “She’ll work you through your paces, believe you me, and all the supplemental things, too – making sure you eat the right thing, take medicinal baths to improve your meridians, apply massages to loosen your joints…those parts are nice, actually. Take care of your body as you would your saber, take care of your saber as you would your wife! That’s how the saying goes. Trust me, you’ll be regretting the whole thing soon enough.”
Jiang Yanli didn’t think she would. “You seem very confident that A-Cheng will allow you to do as you please, even in the Lotus Pier.”
“I’ll tell him it concerns secret Nie sect marriage rituals,” Nie Jiahui interjected. “When two women are involved, men tend to run away when the words ‘marriage’ and ‘secret’ are combined.”
Sadly, she was probably right.
“Show me those exercises again,” she requested, and Nie Jiahui climbed up on to the carriage to show her the ones she could do even while sitting down.
Jiang Yanli might never have had the opportunity to strengthen herself before, and she was moderately certain that she wouldn’t have too much success now, as the various tricks Nie Jiahui had taught her were largely body refinement, barely reliant on qi, and her cultivation was still as low as ever.
But she was good at devoting herself to learning something when she wanted to, and as soon the hunt at Phoenix Mountain was over and they had shifted over to the various feasts and meetings that Lanling Jin had planned for the rest of the week, she began her efforts at self-improvement in earnest.
The weak body her mother had always despaired of might always be weak – Nie Jiahui had been quite blunt on that subject, making it clear that nothing she was suggesting was some sort of miracle pill, and furthermore that there was nothing wrong with being weak as long as she made an effort (Nie Huaisang had been the recipient of several pointed looks there) – but Jiang Yanli was determined to at least demonstrate that she was trying.
A gesture of good faith, perhaps. Some small show of initiative.
Nie Huaisang had said that Nie Mingjue appreciated her initiative.
“A-Xian,” she called one morning, only a few days later. “A-Xian, are you going out for a walk? Let me come with you.”
“You’ve gone on a lot of walks recently,” Wei Wuxian laughed, but allowed her to take his arm as they walked into the crowd. “Do you like Lanling City so much?”
“It’s the exercise I’m after,” she said, smiling at him. “The Nie sect is a martial sect, remember? I’ll be going on more night-hunts in the future, if all goes well, and I’ll need to keep up.”
“Oh, but surely they’ll bring a carriage..? I don’t know if you really need to go on night-hunts –”
“I want to! It’ll be nice. Don’t worry about me so much, A-Xian –”
Wei Wuxian was shaking his head, smiling, and he wasn’t looking where he was going; perhaps that was why he bumped into the young woman.
But then she looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and he froze.
“Wen Qing?”
#mdzs#jiang yanli#nie mingjue#nie huaisang#wei wuxian#my fic#my fics#initiative#the untamed#includes my medical HCs for JYL and NHS#but no actual medical incidents
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not a homecoming, but something like it
There are two men arguing in front of her home.
This is a nuisance, but not an uncommon one. Her neighbors are colorful and loud, so she’s used to people being in her way. Gente estorbosa. Normally she would’ve simply pushed past them to get to her gate. However, these are no neighbors of hers, and that makes her hesitate.
The two men are not speaking Antivan, but she knows enough languages to follow along, even with the street’s lively background chatter.
“This is a mistake,” one of them says.
“At least it’ll be in character, then,” the other replies.
Adelmar shifts the grocery basket on her hip, waiting. They’ll move on their own soon enough, she suspects. Or perhaps they’ll notice her and confront her for eavesdropping. Oh! Then they’d get an earful.
“I am being serious. Why would she remember me, hm?”
“You remember her.”
“That doesn’t mean anything—”
“I think it means more than you expected it to. I think that’s why you’re trying to back out at the last minute.”
Adelmar is not sure what the men are arguing about. She’d assumed their relationship to be contentious but now the shorter of the two steps close to his companion, looping an arm around his waist in an unmistakably supportive and affectionate gesture.
“If you really think this is a mistake, then let’s go, vhenan.”
Neither of them moves.
Adelmar clears her throat. Fascinating as the conversation is, she doesn’t have all day. She has dinner to get started, and her basket is getting heavy.
They turn to look at her, and she drops everything.
Tinned coffee and spices, parcels of lamb, and oranges, which roll out across the cobbled street.
“¿Zevran?” Adelmar’s voice is uncertain. She never expected to speak that name again, but those eyes and that hair…
“Zevran… Chivito. No puedo creerlo.”
The man Zevran is with has begun to pick up her groceries, although somewhat haphazardly, dropping one orange for every three he grabs. “You see?” he calls out, darting after a can and swiping it before it gets rolled over by a cart. “I knew she’d recognize you!”
And Zevran, the little boy she’d read stories to in the brothel, the same brown eyes, just taller, smiles at her like she’s singing a song and he’s in her lap again.
The scene, with all its noise and shouting in the background, and fruit rolling this way and that, feels briefly absurd. Is she imagining this? She has to make sure. She needs to just look at him. Stepping across a gap of decades (but it’s really only a few feet), she reaches for Zevran. She touches his face. Notices his tattoo. Frowns.
“Ay,” she murmurs, removing her hand. It is him.
He bursts out laughing.
“Qué gusto me da verte.”
Close by and with the biggest smile, Hamal Mahariel watches, holding the basket with all the groceries Adelmar has dropped.
It had come up in conversation, casually, a few days earlier. They had been investigating a mark, and Zevran, in the midst of planning and preparing, mentioned, “You know, I grew up near here.”
Hamal blinked. Sometimes he suspected that growing up meant something different for Zevran than it did for him. Did he mean he’d become a Crow here, just thirteen when he’d first killed?
When asked to clarify Zevran gestured at the map before them. He pointed a finger just a few centimeters from their present location.
“Rialto. I lived there before the Crows… acquired me.”
“Mm,” Hamal said, mulling it over. It was always a careful balance on his part to gauge whether it was alright to press for information, or better to let Zevran share at his own pace. But he was curious. Zevran seldom spoke of his early years.
“I’d love to see it, if you’re up to visiting,” he said finally.
“Perhaps. If we have time.” Zevran smiled warmly at him. “But really, amor, the place means very little to me. I have no childhood home, unless you count the brothel my mother worked at. I had no family. No friends. None that would remember me, anyway.”
Then why bring it up? Hamal wondered.
“Consider it a sentimental request from your husband,” he said.
Zevran rolled up the map quietly. He planted a quick kiss on Hamal’s cheek.
“That, I can do.”
Adelmar’s home is small and welcoming, with a tiny patio separating the living area from the kitchen and washroom. Her husband is away for a few days. Her children, grown and gone. She has all the time in the world. She wants to hear everything.
“How did you find me?” she asks, looking at Zevran with wonder. A part of her still can’t believe he’s here.
“We happened to be in Rialto. I… asked around.”
“You went to El milagro,” Adelmar guesses.
Zevran gestures noncommittally.
“I haven’t been there for years and years. It feels like a lifetime ago. I’m surprised anyone remembered, or knew enough to send you my way,” she said. “I’m surprised you looked for me at all…”
Adelmar takes a deep breath. She’s stirring up memories—old thoughts and feelings, few of them pleasant, otherwise she would find it nostalgic.
Quickly, she catches herself and shakes off the gloom. She sets a hand on Zevran’s shoulder.
“But I’m glad you did. I really am so happy to see you. Look at how you’ve grown.”
“I wasn’t sure if I should come,” Zevran admits. “My husband convinced me. He’s nosy. It is why I keep him around.”
He chances a glance at Hamal, who is staying well out of the way. His Antivan still being rather rusty, he’s left Zevran and Adelmar to their conversation, and is currently helping chop vegetables for a stew.
“Well I’m glad for that,” Adelmar says, looking between the two men and beaming. Little Zevran—at her kitchen table and married no less!
“I never forgot you, Zevran,” she tells him. “If I had moved a little faster, saved a little more money, I would have left and brought you with me. You were so smart. You were always moving, running around, playing. In the end, it seems we both escaped to better circumstances,” she says finally, closing her eyes and sighing.
“Thank the Maker,” Zevran adds solemnly. Adelmar smiles, pleased at his manners.
“I’m so glad you’re doing well. So tell me,” she scoots closer and looks at him eagerly, “What sort of life did you have, after you were adopted?”
“Adopted?”
By the kitchen counter, Hamal catches the subtle edge in Zevran’s tone. He pauses, holding the knife in his hand as a lull falls over the kitchen table, but he doesn’t know enough Antivan to guess what’s happened.
What’s happened is this: Zevran and Adelmar came from the same place, and know enough about that life to instantly understand that a lie has been told.
“Oh,” Adelmar breathes after a moment. “You… you weren’t adopted.”
Zevran lets out a laugh. It’s his ‘stalling’ laugh, and now Hamal is looking over, arms crossed, searching his face for clues.
“I was not adopted,” he says. “But do not trouble yourself over that.” Then, smoothly redirecting, he gets up and locks eyes with Hamal.
“Shall I boil some water?” he asks, switching out of Antivan.
The tense moment is gone. Hamal nods, glancing at Adelmar. “I’ll start the fire.”
There’s a reason why the kitchen is kept apart from the rest of the house. While the soup simmers, they bring their visit to the adjacent patio, where a cool breeze offers relief. Tree branches from the outside—from a tamarind tree growing in the street—have stretched out over the wall and blessed Adelmar’s patio with shade and fruit.
Hamal makes a face when he tastes it. Glancing at Zevran, he holds his gaze and waits just long enough to make it clear he’s less than partial to the flavor.
“So delicious, vhenan.”
Zevran laughs. “Wait until you try it in drink form.”
“If you make it, I am sure I will enjoy it.”
Adelmar, knowing she’s touched upon a shared hurt between her and Zevran, makes up for it by talking about anything else. She is particularly interested in their wedding, and is scandalized when she hears they’ve only been married a few weeks.
“I missed it!” she exclaims.
“It was quite sudden, my friend,” Zevran says, as if there’d been a chance of her attending. “Spontaneous. Just the two of us. Very romantic.”
Hamal taps the handcrafted silver band around his ring finger. He gestures at Zevran. “Él lo hizo,” he says in the most accented Antivan ever. “Muy, muy… bello.”
Dinner is delicious. Despite some language barriers, their conversation is easy and effortless. It’s also, intentionally, vague. Adelmar learns that they met in Ferelden, that they’re on an important journey, and that the journey is a dangerous one.
Most importantly, she also learns that Zevran’s heart has survived its rocky passage into adulthood, whole, if not unscathed. The core of the little boy she’d known in the brothel is there, even if he himself does not realize it. It brings her immense comfort.
The visit ends all too quickly, and though she asks them to stay the night, she isn’t surprised when they decline.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Hamal tells Zevran, who relays the message to Adelmar.
“You and Hamal are welcome, always,” Adelmar assures him. “Will you visit again?”
“If it is less dangerous,” Zevran says. “We were not followed here. But repeated visits might be difficult. Risky.”
“I understand. Not right away, then. When you can. We still have so much to talk about.”
“I would like that,” Zevran agrees.
They share one last hug, the three of them, and Adelmar watches them slip into the night.
“I need to brush up on my Antivan,” Hamal says. “But I enjoyed meeting her.”
“She liked you a lot,” Zevran says, smiling. Hamal laughs.
“You talked about me?”
“Of course. I had to show you off.” He winks at him. Then, with a soft intake of breath, Zevran looks away with his brow furrowed, the lines of his tattoo tense.
“… They told her I’d been adopted. All these years, and she had no idea. I’m almost sorry she had to find out otherwise.”
They’ve traveled for hours, leaving the city behind. Bright points of light shine overhead. The night sky of Antiva smells of jasmine and the distant sea.
“That’s awful,” Hamal says, looking at him.
“What a farce,” Zevran says bitterly. “Just like everything the Crows do. Operating in the open, but hidden from view. Buying children and lives while people look the other way.” Earnestly, his brown eyes black in the dark, he shakes his head. “It must end. It must.”
Hamal touches the lines of his tattoo, calloused fingers grounding him.
“Ma nuvenin, Zevran Arainai. It will.”
~
A short piece to introduce my OC, Adelmar Provencio. If you ever read my WIP For Suffering is Such a Part, you’ve met her through flashbacks already. While I love the idea of Zevran taking down the Crows alone, please consider, Zevran taking down the Crows with the support of a community, strengthened by the bonds he’s made in his life...
Adelmar plays a further role in the story, so hopefully I can write more for her!
#dragon age#zevran arainai#mahariel#zevran x warden#rinnywrites#oc: hamal mahariel#oc: adelmar provencio
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Could I request some yandere Sukuna from jjk crushing on one of Yutadoris sorcerer teachers and before she realises it, sukuna has taken over yutadoris body and I’ll let you decide the ending
Thank you for requesting! :3 I hope you enjoy it! Sukuna is second best boy for me from the series so I am always excited for him ^-^
»»———————— ♡ ————————««
Up till now, you hadn’t had the chance to build an opinion on the creature that Itadori was. Perhaps, it wasn’t your place to judge him at all, but having been assigned as one of the people teaching him the ways of the Sorcerers, you almost felt obligated to have some kind of opinion.
The truth was, he was a good kid. Anyone with a few social skills could see that. Though he was young, he took what he was doing at the Jujutsu High seriously, and despite being immensely chipper, for someone who would be executed at some point, he wasn’t a bother to have around. Even if this wasn’t the way of life he wanted, he pretty much committed to it now.
And yet, of course, you feared him.
You feared that someday, he wouldn’t be able to keep the threat residing inside of him at bay. You feared he was a ticking bomb on two legs, no matter how well he appeared to have it under control. No one could assume what was going on beneath that carefree expression and cheerful smile. What Sukuna was doing underneath the farce that was this sweet boy.
At first, you thought it would get better the more you knew him. The first meeting had made all hairs on your body stand up straight, but even then, you didn’t run from it. You might have looked pretty disgusted the first time Sukuna spoke up through a mouth on Itadori’s cheek, but otherwise, you had kept your composure.
No matter if you were a graduate from this school, or if they trusted into your abilities enough to teach the kids, or if you believed in yourself and your skills, it all meant nothing when you thought that you’d have to restrain the monster hiding inside of Itadori. How long would you be able to withstand it? A second? Two? You could be relieved if Sukuna made a quick process of you, but you feared he wouldn’t.
Glancing over your shoulder, you watched Itadori jotting down the things you were writing for him on the board. A yawn escaped him casually before he went back to taking his notes. He looked just like any other student. As if he was taking a typical class on an everyday topic, but you couldn’t shake the feeling. You knew you were being watched.
The thought that it wasn’t Itadori who watched you was actually worse than if it was him.
Sighing, you brought your eyes back forth to the blackboard, simply hoping that it was just your imagination running wild. You really, really did not want it to be true. However, sorcerers were specialists when it came to cursed spirits. You should have known better than to push away your intuition like that.
On the other side of the room, Yuji couldn’t help but wipe some sweat off his brow, relieved that you didn’t see it. Sukuna - as always - was a pain in the ass to deal with. If he wasn’t running his mouth, he at least seemed to think he deserved to see what was going on, eyes crawling over Yuji’s skin no matter how hard he tried to stop them.
Turning his head, shielding the eyes with his hand - nothing ended his attempts. Yuji was so glad that you were focused on your task of teaching him, refusing to spoil him with your gaze all the time. Why Sukuna decided to take an interest in you, not even Yuji had been able to get that question out of the cursed spirit. However, every lesson it got worse. Usually, Sukuna would stay put if it wasn’t Fushiguro that Yuji was talking to, but you seemed to make him restless.
Catching a glimpse of the clock over the door, he sighed in relief. Only ten more minutes left before this would be over once more. Even though Yuji had no problem talking, you and he had yet to really get to know each other. You were careful, and with Sukuna acting up, so was Yuji. He almost expected you to not like him very much for apparent reason, so how in the world could he have explained to you what was going on without it freaking you out?
“Hey, I think you shouldn’t teach me anymore because Sukuna is stirring up my body!” sounded weird AND suspicious. It would have probably earned him a re-evaluation or execution right away. Yuji knew that if he wasn’t able to control Sukuna anymore, that would be his end, and he had yet to reach his goal. He should have told you then and there, but something held him back.
Something that decided it was time for more action than sitting out this precious time with you.
Yuji’s hand tensed before it drove forward hard, letting go of the pen between his fingers. With a tender click, it fell to the ground, rolling towards you and catching your attention. Surprised, you glanced at Itadori, who smiled nervously at you, clutching his own hand, and you raised a brow, wondering if he was having a cramp or something.
Picking up the pen, you walked over to your student to return it, putting it in front of him on his desk, as Itadori managed an awkward, “Thank you!” while trying to take it. His movements seemed unnatural, sort of revolting as you could see his muscles tense and release beneath his skin. This was weird, right? You weren’t imagining things this time, or were you?
The answer was taken from you as his hand suddenly flinched, body jolting over the table to grab for your wrist, and you barely had the time to react. You knew what you had to do, jujutsu was like second nature for you, but the surprise hit harder now that your body was actually trying to have an opinion on Itadori.
Still, you were going in for the kill. If it had to be you or the boy, then you were your priority, no matter how much your heart already seemed to regret having to do this. What you didn’t expect was... he was faster. “Ita--?” you managed to press out before you were hit roughly in your face.
Your eyes shut close as his second hand reached for your head, fingers clawing into your hair and skin, sinking into the hollows of your skull and digging in. Despite it all, you managed to open your eyes again, one covered by the palm and clouded in darkness, the other one staring right into what you hoped - and at the same time feared - where two red irises staring back; Two that belonged to the same face, but different pairs of eyes.
“Unfortunately, I think this lesson ends prematurely. A shame, I do like watching you even if it’s just from the back.”
Even though you could not assign the voice to anyone you met before, your body froze up almost instantly as you watched the face back away from you, showing you half of a lopsided grin. The expression spreading out on his face was none you would have thought Itadori was capable of. “You can’t blame the boy, he was trying so hard to keep me away from you,” the person before you spoke, and the unappreciated realization of who was standing in front of you took over your mind.
Sukuna.
Almost instantly, as you thought his name, black marks began to spread over Itadori’s skin, crawling deep down to his chest and appearing back on this arms. “I finally found a fine woman, and yet it took me months to get to you. We have to commend him for that, don’t we?”
The more he talked, the less you felt incapable of moving. Despite the fear feeling like a blizzard freezing you up, you warmed your body with thoughts of who you were. You were a graduate of this very same school. You had survived so many spirits, but seen so many good men fall. If this was your turn to die, you wouldn’t go down like prey in the eyes of your hunter.
Gripping his wrist with both your hands, his grip tightened unbearably so, but you pressed the words out of your mouth anyway. “What do you want?” you brought forth through gritted teeth, and Sukuna’s lips curled into an almost pleasant, yet condescending smile. “Just you,” he explained, suddenly letting go of your face, making you stumble forward.
But the next moment, you felt his pointer against your forehead. In a wondrous moment of clarity, you realized what was going on. You’d not let him have his way and give that spirit what he wanted, but it was too late to make use of your abilities and blow off his arm or your own head in an attempt to flee. All you got was darkness and the feeling of everything around you collapsing to the ground as you blacked out.
“Fuck,” you winced as your mind slowly regained conscience. The ground you were laying on could only be described as fluid, but it wasn’t wet at all. Nevertheless, when you opened your eyes, you jolted up and into a seat, seeing all the red that covered the surroundings. If not for the buzzing energy of this place, you might have thought you were dead. With the memories of the happenings returning to you as you tried to remember, you wished you actually were.
“Finally awake, I see,” a voice called out, amusement and mockery laying in its tone. Your eyes caught the sight of the hundreds of skulls first before it managed to lift high enough to see the special grade cursed spirit splayed out enthroned on them. “Welcome to my world,” he grinned, and it made a shudder run down your spine while you began glancing around carefully.
“What did you do?” you asked, seeing nothing but darkness and bones wherever you looked. “Why am I here?”
“Ah, so many questions,” Sukuna sighed, your head snapping forward as you heard footsteps in front of you. “Isn’t it great that we’ll have a lot of time to clear them up?”
You didn’t react to this, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing you would humor him. Still, you eyed his hand suspiciously as he squatted down, reaching out to caress your face. You almost feared a cut from his sharp nail along your cheek, but nothing happened, and you noticed his eyes almost transfixed on his finger on your skin. “Where’s my body?”
“Safe,” he mumbled, appearing to be in thought. But just as quickly, his eyes snapped up to meet yours again. “Figured it out already, haven’t you?”
“What could someone like you want from my soul, even dragging it here for no apparent reason?”
“Told you, didn’t I? I just want you; the rest is a surprise!”
Standing up again, Sukuna spread his arms open as if he was inviting you in to them. “Don’t be so stiff, Darling. We’ll have fun here!”
“Darling?!” you croaked in disbelieve, spouting the words which were absolutely revolting to you. “Don’t worry,” Sukuna chuckled.
“You’ll come to like me soon enough.”
#Ryomen Sukuna#Sukuna#Sukuna jjk#yandere sukuna#yandere!sukuna#Jujutsu Kaisen#JJK#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere!jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#yandere!jjk#yandere#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons#yandere scenarios#yandere fanfiction#yandere writing#yandere oneshot#yandere drabble#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#Yandere TW#Anonymous
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