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fayes-fics · 4 months

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A Welcome Intrusion

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A drunken Bridgerton in the wrong room could be the start of something...

Warnings: none really... flirtatious drunken fluff, meet-cute.

Word Count: 1.3k

Authors Note: This idea has been lingering in my "wtf is this" pile of scenes I sometimes scribble down idly. I decided to add a little polish and make it a little one-shot, as I could not see it having a natural home in my other WIPs. I also have vague plans to do the same scene setup with Anthony as a character study of how their reactions would differ. Unbetaed. I hope you enjoy <3

You are sleeping fitfully - a stifling summer night makes even a thin cotton sheet too much to bear on your overheated skin - when your bedroom is rudely invaded.

In your half-awake, bleary state, you are not even certain someone is in the room at first, your back being turned to the door. Indeed, it’s only when the mattress dips that you truly startle. You freeze, facing away, completely uncertain what to do with a stranger perched on the edge of your bed.

Behind you, you hear someone undressing haphazardly, Clothing hitting the rug in soft whumps. Bile rises in your throat when the effort-filled grunt while doing so is decidedly male.

There is a triumphant noise, and then a body flops back onto the mattress with a self-satisfied chuckle. After a few beats, all is still, and you steel yourself to speak.

“Kind sir,” you murmur, not daring to move, clinging to the far side, “please leave my room.”

There is a decidedly undignified squeal of shock, more akin to a young girl, him flipping over onto all fours next to you, the movement causing you to turn over in equal surprise.

You both stare at each other as if burned; you clutch the bedding high around your neck as he pants lightly, recovering from the apparent scare you gave him, his breath carrying the rich aroma of expensive brandy. In the shaft of moonlight leaking through the curtains, you see the curve of his cheekbone, the sharp line of his jaw. Whoever he is, he is very pretty. Very drunk, yes. But very pretty, too.

“What in god’s name are you doing in my bed?” he demands, sounding alarmed but mildly slurred with intoxication.

“You are in my bed!” you squeak back, knuckles tightening around the sheet you hold, even as your traitorous eyes roam lower, entirely without meaning to. A slice of lithe, freckled chest muscle flexing over ribs as he draws heavy breaths makes something deep inside you quake. You quickly dart your eyes back up to his face.

“I think not! This has been my bedroom since I was three years old!” he attests with the blithe certainty alcohol provides.

Oh, so he must be a Bridgerton. That is perhaps an easy guess, seeing as you are staying at Aubrey Hall ahead of tomorrow’s midsummer Hearts and Flowers Ball.

“I don’t think they would assign a family bedroom to a guest,” you answer with a flare of sass.

“Yes, I quite agree. That’s why you should not be here,” he huffs indignantly.

“I was shown here by the head housemaid. That is my trunk there, the footmen brought in,” you point out, gesturing across the room.

He seems to ignore your argument but suddenly swings around almost violently, looking at the room.

“I don’t have that on my wall,” he frowns at a sizeable floral painting over a dresser.

“Maybe because this isn’t actually your bedroom?” you volley back with uncharacteristic brashness, likely a reaction to his presence affecting you the longer he remains.

He whips back and narrows his eyes at you. “Did Anthony put you up to this? Or Colin? Change my room around and hide you in my bed to fool me? Are you some doxy?”

“How dare you, sir!!” you blanche, horrified at his coarse language and that he could think you are any sort of woman of such low morals.

“My sincerest apologies,” he immediately looks thoroughly contrite. “You do appear far too well-bred to be such. But it still does not explain your presence in my room.”

“No, it does not,” you answer through gritted teeth, annoyance flaring at his continued erroneous insistence. “And that is because this is not your room…. dunderhead!”

The ferocity with which you spit the last word has his face morphing into one of befuddled incredulity, a single eyebrow arching.

“Sorry, that was impertinent of me,” you flush, dropping your gaze ashamed.

No!” he rushes out, “I… I liked it,” the confession apparently takes him by surprise as much as it does you, judging by his confused frown at his own words.

But then he seems to shrug and nod decisively as if agreeing with himself before he looks back to you, shifting so the light colour of his eyes catches the moonbeam.

“Who are you?” he inquires, cocking his head to the side.

“Miss y/l/n,” you respond.

“I’m Benedict…”

“...BrIdgerton,” you finish for him. “I assume, based on the fact you have a childhood bedroom here.”

He laughs; a rich, resonant sound that makes your insides jolt.

“Indeed,” he smiles, the ivory of his teeth catching the light. Again, you are drawn to how pretty he seems to be. “I am… quite intoxicated, Miss y/l/n”, he confesses, clutching a hand to his chest as if holding a doffed cap, “‘tis entirely possible I am indeed not in the correct bedroom.”

“I would venture that to be the correct assessment,” you offer with a meek smile.

“I sincerely apologise, yet again,” his face contrite as he shuffles into a kneeling position, his palms resting upturned on his thighs as if seeking forgiveness.

The problem is all your eyes can do is slide down his bare torso, lingering in places they shouldn’t—like the swell of his pectorals, the dip of his waist, and the pull of material at the junction of his thighs just a few inches above where his palms rest….

“I suppose it is only fair I let you look, seeing as I so rudely interrupted your sleep,” he comments dryly.

Your eyes jerk back to his face, met with a pointedly raised eyebrow and a knowing crooked smirk. You feel your cheeks aflame and bow your head, biting your lip, knowing you have been thoroughly caught in your ogling.

“I… I apologise, sir,” you mumble quietly, “I… I have not seen a man without a shirt before…” you admit in a whisper.

“And do you like what you see?” he teases, tone etched with beguiling menace, his mouth twisted into an intrigued pout as you dare to raise your gaze again.

“I… I…,” you falter, knowing that admitting such would be scandalous.

“Your secret is safe with me, Miss y/l/n,” he winks, “and I hope I am forgiven.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” you bustle out, tugging the bedding high under your chin again, wanting desperately to conceal the flush you know is creeping over your skin with every second spent in his half-naked presence.

“I suppose I should take my leave,” he sighs, his cadence reluctant, perhaps hoping you will dispute his assessment.

“That would be… the most prudent course of action,” you nod even though your fingertips itch to grab his hand and ask him to stay for reasons you don’t entirely understand.

He slides off the bed and scoops up his discarded shirt, a moderately unsteady gait as he tugs it back onto his body.

“Goodnight, Miss y/l/n,” he bows with a touch of comedic chivalry before he takes his leave. You cannot help but stare at his shapely rear as he walks towards the door.

“Goodnight, Mr Bridgerton,” you call softly, and before you can stop yourself, more words are spilling from your lips, something about this man making you daring. “I do so hope you will offer me a dance at the ball tomorrow to make amends for this intrusion.”

Even you are astounded by your words. Benedict pauses, his hand frozen on the door handle as he turns back around slowly, his mien surprised.

“It would be my pleasure,” he rumbles after a pause, a tingle running through your being.

“Until tomorrow, Mr Bridgerton,” you offer, heart pounding.

“Until tomorrow indeed, Miss y/l/n,” the velvet of his voice tickling your skin long after the door snicks closed behind him.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaa @urfavnoirette

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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scribbleseas · 3 months

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in love & in war: the one where he meets you

Description: Join Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, as he embarks on one of the most difficult challenges of his professional life: getting you to fall in love with him in order to become the next chairman of TransAtlantica— your father’s vast shipping empire.

Warnings: The reader’s opinions are a bit old-fashioned, and they don’t reflect my own! Besides that, I’m sure there will be some explicit content down the line, but honestly, this story is much more romcom than our usually scheduled programming. It’s just a silly palette cleanser in season for Valentine’s Day.

Author’s Note: Hi! You guys expressed that you guys like more frequent posts, and I’ve reached a bit of a roadblock on my main Ciel fic right now. I thought I would write up a quick beginning to a potential drabble series! If you guys are interested in this premise, let me know! It’s fun to write such chill stakes content for once lol. Also, this isn’t based off a particular request! I’m still playing with my ideas from those, and at this point, I can confidently say you guys are getting either a one shot or a 1-3 part series based on one. Thank you all for submitting, and feel free to keep them coming.

Happy Reading!

- Dan

MASTERLIST

In Conference

April, 1895

Your life was nowhere near as easy as it seemed.

Perhaps, the average onlooker might see you and presume that the expensive jewels wrapped around your neck and your fingers were the most burdensome aspect of your privileged life. Or perhaps they might have thought it would be the pinch from your stately heels or the strain from a brilliant, yet strategic, permanent smile.

Your business smile. Your future-Countess-of-Richmond smile.

But they couldn’t have been more wrong.

This very moment was exact proof of that— you were in the midst of your world collapsing. The abject shock rattling through your mind was akin to a nightmare. Your eyebrows pulled together in a contentious pout, the horrified look you used to get away with your most childish crimes from your parents.

“Marriage? Simply not.” You begged, alreadying feeling your will to fight waver under your father’s tired stare, your mother’s pained grin. “I’m only—”

“Of perfect age to begin looking for a potential partner. 22 is well past ready, I would say,” your mother answered for you.

“I would be— but—” you sputtered like a fish out of water only to inhale deeply through your nose. You needed to collect yourself. Negotiate thoughtfully and logically. That was the only way to get yourself out of this.

“Speak with intent, Y/n,” your father interjected boredly, retraining his attention on the business reports he was reading. He fixed his glasses, pushing them further up the bridge of his nose.

Speak with intent. You knew those words well. They were your solace, the lighthouse in the storm that came with childhood temperament. Your father, no matter the cause of your distress, would answer: Speak with intent.

“Right,” you cleared your throat apologetically, glancing down at your hands as they sat clasped in your lap. “Sincerest apologies, sir.”

Your father hummed, eyebrows jumping a fraction of a centimeter. He picked up his pen and scribbled his signature at the bottom of the report. Your mother’s hand fell on the nape of his neck to make him turn his gaze back up at you. He hesitated before doing so, waiting to click a stamp onto the signed report.

“I do not wish to marry,” you enunciated your words carefully, confidently. “At least, not yet,” you added, now catching your father’s attention for the blunder. “I’ve yet to meet someone I love,” you felt your face redden, a desire to run back to your room threatening to overtake your fortitude. You were only so strong under your father, the Earl of Richmond’s deliberation stare. It struck fear into the other side of conference tables, lecture halls, and courtrooms. And now, across his desk at his only daughter.

Before your father could remind you that love wasn’t the most important aspect of a successful marriage, your mother interjected gently.

“What about the Duke of Clarence’s son, Antonio? He seemed to like you,” she prompted. Wrongly. You’d danced with Antonio at the Summer Solstice gala that the Pembroke family threw annually. The man opted to use the waltz’s entirety to brag about his family’s Italian vineyards and his love for agriculture. And, of course, his admiration for your father’s entrepreneurial genius. His shipping empire, TransAtlantica, had just successfully fortified shipping systems in all of the states; a step forward from simply cycling through all major ports along the east coast.

“He doesn’t love me,” you complained, “he loves TransAtlantica. He’d much prefer to marry our family corporation!” Antonio was suitable. He was decent, but that’s all he truly was to you. It’s all he ever could be.

You met your mother’s eyes pleadingly, and she pursed her lips, fully knowing the next words out of your mouth. You had a deal. From a young age, you knew the Richmond family, the Y/l/n line, respected contracts more than all else. Since you turned 17, you had one signed by all three parties and dated.

Your mother sucked in a breath through her teeth. “I remember the deal,” she said, taking a moment to consider her own words. The corners of her lips twitched as if she was attempting to hide her amusement with you. She understood— her own father, your grandfather, was just as militant, stiff with professionalism. Promises were negotiations with terms, signatures, and stamps. There were no arguments this way. “Dearest,” she addressed your father, the hand that was on the back jumping to his shoulder, “you do as well.”

“Do you?” You challenged, indignantly crossing your arms. “I request you restate the terms, mother.”

“If we are to pressure you into marriage before you feel ready, you must consent to the courting party,” your father took the liberty of answering gruffly. He squared his shoulders, regarding you purposefully— equal parts exhaustion and respect for your endurance. He cultivated it, after all. It was a fire that burned in your family for generations, as sacred as a temple flame.

“Yes,” you affirmed, “and so, I must choose the man I wish to be with.”

“With respect to your titles— no one below your station. And he must be chosen by the end of this courtship season,” your father added, negotiating. He tilted his head, analyzing your next move.

You knew of the first term since you were a child. You even remembered the exact day you learned them. You were a young girl, a little younger than seven. A young commoner boy had attempted to hand you a rose. Your maid at the time had scolded him for standing in the way of a noble family, since he had stepped out in front of you. It was a discernible moment, truly.

As for your father’s second term… you were unconvinced such a thing could be done.

“The end of the courtship season is in four months,” you replied, frowning. You were sure you met most eligible men in your social class. How were you to form a genuine connection in such little time? Even if you couldn’t find love per se, you still wanted to find someone you were compatible with.

“If we reach that deadline and you find no one, we can talk about it,” your mother answered. “And, you must allow me and your aunt to fix you on outings with suitors we like.

“Fine. Only if Daphne joins me,” you replied, knowing fully well that you weren’t allowed anywhere without your handmaiden present.

. . .

Next week

Your mother was sure not to waste any time in beginning to schedule supervised outings with a different well-educated and ennobled man that was within the appropriate age constraints. You’ve never had such a boring week, brutally torn away from the studies you adored so much.

“—And we’ve got another vacation home down in Tuscany, I think,” the Viscount Lineford’s son concluded, taking a peremptory drink out of his tea. He was dressed crisply in beige trousers that rolled up past his ankle and low leather shoes. His sterling watch sparkled in the spring sun.

You fought a building yawn that tempted the back of your throat, determined to hide your exhaustion with the man. It was a good effort, but you certainly weren’t impressed.

“That must be incredible,” you answered absently. “It must be such a lovely foreign getaway for the Lineford family,” you grinned diplomatically, blind to the horror that twisted his — you didn’t care to remember his name, unfortunately — face.

“Foreign? Excuse me Lady Y/n, but my family traces far back into Italian culture that we are practically Roman…” he started, only for you to interject.

“Will you just excuse me, please?” You struggled to keep the desperation out of your face, calmly searching for your supervisor. She was meant to be sitting at a table nearby, merely ensuring that your outing remained within polite societal constraints. More importantly, Daphne served as your escape when your potential suitors proved most unbearable. All you needed to do was subtly tilt your fan to your left ear and the woman would always scramble over to you with an excuse to steer you out of any scenario you found distasteful.

Such as this one.

Daphne never normally left your side, a realization that allowed worry to creep into your tone. “I’m unsure where my maid went, and I would like to fetch her,” you replied, standing and shouldering your small day bag over your shoulder.

“I’m sorry?” He asked, chuckling with bitter disbelief at your rudeness. Ladies were supposed to be demure and polite. You were impatient and honest, a product of an Earl knowing that his daughter was the object of his legacy. Your father trained you as he would a son, and your tutors followed in suit. “Surely you’re joking; this is the middle of our tea.”

Her pocketbook and her sweater weren’t even sitting on the chair she had been occupying, causing you to blink at the empty table in disbelief.

“No, I’m not. I think something might be wrong,” you shouldered past the man, stepping between other individuals sitting at the common tables in the park.

“Fine, you aren’t worth it anyway!” He called at your back, but the words hardly registered with you.

The area was rather common for courting pairs to visit in the early spring. However, it could also be populated with…criminals. “Excuse me,” you mumbled, quickly walking down the paved pathway through the greenery to the main sidewalk, the London pavement heavy with pedestrians. The streets were perhaps more crowded with carriages and sweating horses.

You couldn’t be alone in the city! As a woman of your stature, it simply wasn’t done. Never. Ever. It was an affront to your teachings, and it was unsafe. You needed your friend, not some stranger.

“Where is she?” You mumbled, rapidly attempting to discern every face that passed you. Surely it wouldn’t be long until someone recognized you— you were one of the most photographed families in the country. In fact, you were fortunate no one had offered your location to the press while you were on this outing. You never would have heard the last of it.

Some took hold of your handbag and darted off, using your distractedness to his advantage. He ran to the end of the block and crossed the street, weaving through pedestrians once the crossing guard allowed your side to walk over. If your hand hadn’t been tightly clutching the strap as you walked, you never would have noticed.

You did your best to pick up your speed and chase him, yelling out.

You cried out, glancing down at your long springtime dress. Your short heels were nowhere near efficient enough for you to make a chase out of the robbery, nor should have needed to! Even still, you lunged into the street — without looking.

In fact, if you had committed to your step, you would’ve been flattened by an oncoming carriage, given that the crossing guard had ordered pedestrians to stop passing moments prior. The only reason why you didn’t make the life-ruining step seemed to be… a tall young man with a serious face and staggering presence. He only had one exposed blue eye, the other was concealed by a black eyepatch. His grip tightened around your arm, pulling you intimately into his chest.

You breathed heavily, tearing yourself out of his arms. A flair of irritation caused you to glare at him as you righted your stance and smooth your dress. However, he did save you from a potentially life ending situation. His immediate insurance of your safety was more meaningful than a misaligned gown that you fixed in seconds.

In fact, the moment truly was a bit theatrical. The man was handsome enough to make you smile with uncertainty, your irritation melting. “Thank you for that,” you said, relieved that the sidewalk seemed to clear, the crowd dispersing from the main street. “I could have been killed.”

“That would have been quite a shame,” he replied, locking eyes with you. The man made a thin attempt at returning your smile. He was enchanting, regal… your heart skipped a beat, considerably flustered.

…Until he spoke again, completely distorting the immediate magnetic lure you felt from his sharp features: “Rather careless of you, my Lady. You ought to be smarter than that.”

You frowned. “In case you failed to notice, that man stole my handbag and essentially disappeared,” you snapped impatiently. It had your identification, emergency notes in case you needed to purchase something, the current novel you were fixated on…how were you meant to return to the estate now?

“You weren’t catching him, I don’t think,” he noted astutely, watching you as you stepped past him to go in the direction you came from. Perhaps Daphne circled back to the park in search of you. You absolutely needed to find her.

“Thank you for your help. Good day,” you answered brusquely, continuing to walk. However, he remained in stride with you, still unabashedly smug. It quickly absolved you of any former gratefulness you had toward the man for pulling you away from oncoming traffic. Perhaps it might have hurt less to have collided with a horse and a carriage over the velocity and mass of this random man’s ego.

“What, don’t tell me you going to go chase him,” He said patronizingly, a sardonic pull infecting what you thought was initially a careful smile. No, the man was just another arrogant bastard, it seemed. “In those shoes, especially,” He perused, causing you to stop once more and regard him.

“I am a noble woman, you will not speak to me in such a manner no matter what line of—“ you caught the sapphire family and silver crest rings around two of his fingers — “mediocre destitution you come from!” You jabbed purposefully, undeserving of his rudeness and his condescension, no matter what title he occupied in your class. You were the partial inheritor of TransAtlantia; you trained to run the company to some degree since you could speak. Few could step to you.

“I believe I said good day, kind sir,” you added poisonously, daring him to continue to test you before speeding back towards the park. You needed Daphne, you needed an officer…anyone besides this pompous— you ended the thought before you could further infect yourself with such unladylike curses.

It really wasn’t so easy being the daughter of an Earl.

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

“I’ve planned things so Lady Y/n’s maid is off helping a little girl find her mother; I separated the two by distracting the girl with a kitten. Y/n will panic without her maid being within her immediate reach, drawing her out to the street. I will cause her to put herself in harm’s way by distracting her at the corner of 89th Street and Arthur. Be ready by the street post. I’ve made the new paralegal late to his case, he will have instructed his butler to drive quick. You will need to pull her away from the street. If you miss, things may end rather…unfortunately for the young woman,” Ciel Phantomhive’s butler, Sebastian Michealis, outlined.

Sebastian was Ciel’s head butler, his head chef, head landscaper, tailor, tutor… but most importantly, the Earl of Phantomhive’s contracted demon. The supernatural being was at his disposal and his bidding; his new role being the most interesting one of all: matchmaker. He fabricated a scene for Ciel to meet Y/n Y/l/n, and ideally, make her love him.

It was simple, really. Ciel needed a wife; Y/n’s family needed a competent businessman to run that prosperous giant of a shipping enterprise; and most importantly, the woman seemed to be rather competent. The only danger to his strategy was, of course, Y/n’s foul storybook idealism, apparently. Ciel knew Y/n was highly educated and well graced in ettiquiete, but she seemed intent on finding some happily ever after of sorts.

She wanted a husband— a bloody love match. No— she needed an actor to convince her that she was worth marrying beyond the incredible status she represented. There was no asset greater than a title and an economic monarchy to inherit, and securing such a prize meant that Ciel needed to woo her.

“My Lord, you must be considerate, but not too kind. Though you should also refrain from acting too smugly or the lady may take offense,” his butler had offered some horrifically embarrassing — and incredibly unhelpful — acting lessons for him to express the particular warmth Lady Y/n seemed to be looking for.

Love. A feeling Ciel hadn’t known in around nine years. Arguably, it could’ve been more. And yet, in order to stop being solicited by desperate mothers and unlikely candidates, he was securing his bride.

According to Ciel’s butler, that meant he needed to create a memorable foundation in the woman’s mind, an introduction that would leave her curious, impassioned. Wanting more. Something to make him stand out amongst the other faceless, classless mouth breathers who would be vying for TransAtlantica, now that word of her search for a suitor was widespread.

The company and Y/n’s hand were all one in the same courtship, and Ciel was sure the was going to win both.

The Earl of Phantomhive was never one to lose. He’d be remiss to start now.

#anime fanfiction #black butler fanfic #historical fiction #ciel phantomhive x reader #ciel x reader #sebastian michaelis #black butler

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ask-pentious · 8 days

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*A little 7 year old human-looking girl was wandering the streets of heaven. She looked very depressed as she roamed the sidewalk until she bumped into Sir Pentious* Sincerest apologies, Sir, I didn't see you there *she said innocently with a hint of sadness in her voice*

@weirdqueenofadlen

[Pentious looks down at the child. Pentious dons a mask in public to avoid identification by exorcists, as he and the Seraphim are uncertain that his presence will be peaceful. The mask is similar to the masks of the Exorcists, but much kinder in expression.]

"Quite alright, my dear."

[Looking down at the child he can see a sadness atypical of those in Heaven. Pentious never admitted it in Hell but he always hated to see souls of young ones who passed before their time. He decides to ask:]

"Isss there something I can help you with? I'm new around here but I will help as bessst as I can, dear." -🎩��

#hazbin pentious #sir pentious #hazbin hotel pentious #general pentious #sir pentious hazbin hotel #ask blog #ask me anything #ask #hazbin #ask pentious.

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blueisquitetired · 1 year

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When you got time, do you have any tips on writing Ingo and Emmets dialogue? I really like how you write them but I can't seem to get their speech down. It's mainly Ingos which is annoying since he canonical has more dialogue than Emmet.

Oh thank you!! I’m glad you enjoy- writing these boys dialogue is one of my favorite parts of writing and has made me seriously consider how I write speech for every character I do. It’s been great practice!

Okay, actual advice time lol.

HOW TO WRITE INGO AND EMMET

(According to me, Blue)

(Now, keep in mind that there isn’t one true way to write the boys, and this is just how I personally write them. Take this with a grain of salt)

When you’re first starting out writing the boys I recommend writing dialogue in your own voice and then submasifying it.

For example, let’s take this dialogue and transform it:

“Sorry I’m late for work! My dog chewed through my nice pants so I had to find some new ones! It’s been a bit of a rough day today, not gonna lie.”

So starting with Ingo-

Ingo talks extremely formally and is super long winded. When writing dialogue for him, try to imagine a fancy British butler who uses long words and long sentences. Replace normal words with more “fancy” ones and use more words then you really need to. (A thesaurus can be extremely useful for this)

“My sincerest apologies for my tardy arrival!”

Then, pepper in train terms as much as possible. If he goes three sentences without saying something train related, find a way to stick one in. If you’re stuck, look up a list of train words and take inspiration (I’ll include a list of train expressions I commonly pull from at the bottom of the post) (Make sure to use “Bravo!” and “All aboard!” whenever applicable as well)

“I awoke to the unpleasant surprise of joltik holes in my trousers this morning- which delayed my cab significantly as I was forced to find an undamaged pair!”

I personally strive to use consonants (stuff like I’d, we’ll, don’t) as little as possible with the boys. For Emmet it’s to add to the choppiness of his dialogue and for Ingo it’s because that man would rather use fifty words when one will do. (It also makes them sound more professional!)

“Honestly, after a morning like this one, I pray that the remainder of today’s tracks prove to be much smoother.”

Another thing to keep in mind is that Ingo is extremely polite while Emmet is a bit more blunt. Try to use titles like “sir” and “miss” when writing Ingo- and then just don’t bother with Emmet.

Next up is Emmet, who I personally find much harder then Ingo! Unlike Ingo who’s dialogue you need to add words to, Emmet you need to subtract and simplify! This is the post I originally read to kinda get the jive of things, but here’s my pointers!

First off, figure out what concepts the are being expressed in your sentence, and split those apart.

“Sorry I’m late for work!” has two parts- an apology and an acknowledgment that the person is late. For Emmet we would want to split this single sentence into two.

“I am Emmet! I am late! Sorry!”

Next is vocal ticks! Emmet has several, and they should ideally be sprinkled in sparingly through his dialogue. (You can see that I used ‘I am Emmet’ in the previous section)

‘I am Emmet’ should be used when he is joining a conversation or when he’s about to say something about himself. It CAN be used more then once in a single conversation- but try not to overdo it.

‘Verrrrrrrry’ is another one! Other submas authors have him roll the r on other words as well, but I stick with verrrrrry. This one is easy to use- just extend the word very with extra Rs and use very whenever naturally applicable.

‘Yup’ is one as well- and one I admittedly don’t use often. It rarely jives with the way I write Emmet so I usually don’t bother- but you should definitely keep it in mind!

And of course, train terms! Less often then Ingo of course (since he says less words in general) but if you can find a way to fit it in, go for it.

“The joltiks chewed holes in my pants! Verrrrry naughty. Had to find new pants. Holey pants do not pass safety checks! Yup!”

Finally, the man likes his patterns! When writing Emmet it’s a good idea to have his Blubapedia page open nearby so you can just steal chunks of his script from that. (You can, and should do this for Ingo too!)

“Bad morning. Oh well. Follow the schedule! Everybody smile! All aboard!”

Of course, the man is perfectly capable of speaking longer sentences- but when and where he does so is up to the author.

All that being said, it’s important to remember that you’ll likely have to attempt their dialogue a few times before getting a sentence to flow right. Even for these examples I had to do a couple takes until I found one that really worked!

Here’s a couple of other notes for writing Pokémon characters in general:

Watch out for expressions and words that use animals. (like beeline or ‘in the dog house’) Try to replace those words with their Pokémon counterparts- (such as combeeline [which I’ve typed so many times I’ve started using internally in my day to day life]) or something that sounds close enough (like if your censoring f***, ducklett doesn’t work nearly as good as duck. So try muk instead!)

Do your best to replace religious swears with Pokémon religion! Instead of heavens, or the big G word, use words like, ‘Dragons!’ Or ‘Sweet Swords of Justice!’ (Of course, these are Unovan swears. For Hisui you should be using things like ‘Sinnoh’ and ‘great Time!’. Other regions have their own legendaries as well)

And finally, my list of train terms I pull from regularly!

Cab (or car): To refer to one’s body

“I am afraid my cab is in need of repairs.”

Tracks: A plan or intended route

“Very well! I will follow the tracks you have set!”

Destination: The goal or like, the actual destination

“Bravo! Your talent has brought you to the destination called victory!”

Station (or terminal): A location

“Very well! Let us set our tracks to the Pearl Clan’s station!”

Two Car Train (or three or four or whatever number you need): Friends or a team

“Emmet and I are a two car train!”

Couple (opposite being uncoupled): To join together

“I must ask that you couple your car to mine as we make our way through here. It can get quite dangerous!”

Engine: Another term for your body, but more specifically in regards to energy or drive

“I’m afraid I must rest my engine.”

Refuel: Eat.

“It is getting quite late- let us take a break to refuel.”

Conducting: Guiding

“I look forward to conducting you on this endeavor!”

Derailment (or collision, wreck, trainwreck): Something that has gone wrong.

“Apologies. It appears I have been derailed.”

Unscheduled (opposite being scheduled): Something unexpected

“Ah! A cave in! It appears we must make an unscheduled stop.”

Passenger: Person (or Pokémon)

“It appears we have picked up some unexpected passengers!”

Conductor: Ingo sometimes uses this to refer to himself (works especially well in Hisui)

“Passenger, please refrain from stabbing the conductor”

Delay: Something happening later then scheduled

“Apologies for the delay! Let us begin!”

Sidetracked: put off course

“Ah, but now I have sidetracked us with this talk.”

All aboard!: Good conversation ender 💙

“ALL ABOARD!!!”

#submas #blue askbox #blue’s writing #subway master ingo #subway master emmet #writing tips

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a-gal-with-taste · 1 year

Text

Certainties & Mistletoe

Summary: Mistletoe, the only decoration the old bastard could bear to stand during the winter-months. You thought it harmless, simple and almost forgettable... but the event it causes, is anything-but.

Ebenezer Scrooge & F!Reader | 2469 Words | AO3

Part 2 | Part 3

Tags: Oneshot, mistletoe-troupe, humor, internal-thoughts, boss/employee relationship, pre-prelationship, first-kiss, pining (??), Scrooge being a grump (shocker), open-ended, haven't watched the movie, just think Scrooge is kinda-

A/N: I have. No excuse. But blame @sweatandwoe and Netflix anyways, because they had no rights, but caused this anyways.

Upmost in certainty, were these three facts:

One, that Ebenezer Scrooge was the richest man in this district of London.

Two, that Ebenezer Scrooge was the most miserable, selfish, cold-hearted miser in the district, possibly in the country, certainly within the distract.

And three, that Ebenezer Scrooge kissed sweetly enough, that one could nearly forget the prior two-facts.

Or, rather... the Master Ebenezer didn't exactly kiss you back. In fact he didn't little much of anything, and remaining-still as you pressed your own lips, delicate as the falling-flecks of white, to his.

Was it a mistake? Undoubtedly.

Foolish? Certainly, you could be out in a slum-house come tomorrow morning, dismissed in disgrace.

But, the mistletoe... oh, it was silly, but the it had looked so inviting! Berries casted soft glow in the nearby light of lanterns, spiked leaves untouched with frost.

The one-decoration the old bastard had enough paitence to withstand, and of course, it had been your demise. Like the temptation of the apple, like the god of hell-itself beckoning, you had almost been eager to lean-forth towards your doom.

Foolish, stupid, silly mistake, one that could ruin you.

And yet, you didn't pull back.

And neither did he.

From the moment you had spoken his name, soft as snow's first-fall on the porch, the sole movement Ebenezer managed, before you cupped a hand over a sturdy, well-trimmed cheek, stood high on the tip of your toes, and sealed your fate by pressing his lips to your own.

He had yet to pull back.

Yet to move entirely, speak, or... frankly, you feared he lost the ability to breathe.

Ironically, it was that fact that finally convinced you to retract from the man. Not the fact this was Master Scrooge, nor even that your future was as uncertain as a ship traversing through rock-laden waters onto certain doom...

But the fact that your simple kiss, had been enough to completely halt the miser entirely.

Heels kiss the ground in silence, as open your eyes to gaze at the looming man, who, indeed, was in some-sort of state of inanimation. More frozen than an hanging-icicle, your gaze flicked from an unrising-chest, tightly-pursed lips, eyes sightlessly staring-forth, and a distinct lack of pale-clouds emanating from mouth or nostrils.

One could almost fear the kiss had been enough to kill him.

You, however, always preferred being of the optimistic-sort, if a bit realistic.

Assuming the less-dire, you took another step back, and spoke as if Ebenezer was still residing well-into the land of conscious thought and reality, and not clearly miles-away in snowy clouds. "Forgive me, sir. That was a poor-choice, and you have my sincerest apology for my action, I... I have no excuse."

Well, there was one excuse. But you could hardly blame a decorative plant.

Speaking of it, though it was a bit of a strain, your fingers tugged the innocent, demonic little pest from the doorway free. The ribbon it was attached to fluttered simply to the ground, but you dared not stoop to pick it up - instead, placing the plant in the certain of your palm, you held it out between yourself and your employer.

A peace offering.

Though this was an event that was anything but peaceful, you still held out the offending object with a brief smile, one that wobbled at the corners. Not just with the shivers of your body, but with the slow-looming knowledge of what you had just done, and what it would cost you.

What was the price, of a simple kiss?

Scrooge, a most professional businessman, would surely be able to tell you. But he seemed rather strained with words, speech made entirely impossible even as life resumes within him, thank God...

He is able to blink. Twice, before his eyes dropped down to yours, than down to what was effectively, the murder-weapon of your current employment in your palm, before his mouth moved to form a single-word:

"What."

"I'm sorry," You said again, shaky smile fading, but the trembling of your lips moved instead to reside your voice. "I-i... there is no excuse. I can only offer an apology, which I do... I do so quite, quite heartily, Mister Scrooge."

Worrying at your bottom lip, your own eyes followed the same trajectory as his own. Darting from his unreadable, unblinking eyes, and those damning plump-red berries held aloft in your gloved-palm.

Something wet, almost burning in comparison to the winter's chill, began to prick at the back of your eyelids, before finally, large and dark-clad gloves decended down onto your hand.

Pinching the culprit between his fingers like a sixpence, when he raised it to eyelevel for inspection, you dropped your own gaze to settle down near the ground. You couldn't help noting how perfectly his boots gleamed in a somber-black, causing the snowflakes that fell upon it to be in a perfect outline.

A distraction. Welcomed, but you roused yourself from it to face reality, even if you kept your gaze well-averted.

"I shall pack upon the morrow, if it suits you," You whispered, words trapped on a small cloud of frigid air, and releasing near-silently between you both. "You shant see me again, Master Scrooge, if it is in your desire... I fear that is the minimal I can offer for my transgression. I'm sorry. P-please... please accept it, as my truest apology."

"... ahem."

You raised your gaze, now truly stinging with the weight of water at your lashes, but a singular blink was quick to ease them away. Despair faded, replaced by confusion at the... oddest expression on the face of Ebenezer Scrooge.

He had turned away from you, unsurprisingly. Perhaps he couldn't stomach the sight of such unruly behavior from an otherwise acceptable-maid, but had a rather fixated-attention on the small branch of green and red in his fingers.

And, apparently, on his collar.

He was adjusting it, clearing his throat periodically, as his attention remained averted from your own growing-bewilderment, and remained steadfast on loosening his tight-cravat.

"... Master?"

Another clearing of his throat. Without the guide of his facial-expression, you were unable to discern his exact emotions at this given-moment, but you deduced that it was a scoff of acknowledgement, and attempted to salvage yourself once-more.

"I... shall guess you will have me return-early, to do a days work before my final departure? Or shall I, perhaps, remain the evening so-as to prepare for my replacement on the morrow-"

Unlikely he would find-one willing enough to work for the miser, even with the steady-promise of coin, but it was a possibility quickly-forgotten with his sudden-snap, like a whip of words.

"What foolishness. You think I shall take-up the duster, the broom in your absence?"

You blinked. The dust had been nearly an inch-thick on your first day of working, you half-imagined the man didn't know such objects of cleaning existed. "I... I only thought-"

"-that I would discard a perfectly-suitable maid? Bah, don't be absurd." You were not exempt from the trademark scorn that caused many in London to wince at the mere-mention of the name Scrooge, but it was... muted?

Certainly not softer, and lacking even the basics of kindness, but... you did not flinch. Only blinked, and quietly asked the man what he would like you to do now.

The dark, rich leather-gloves creaked as his pinched-fingers tightened sharply on the deep-emerald stalk. Silence reigned, in a muted-world where little existed, save for the soft-falling snow, the two of them, and the mistletoe in his grasp.

Then, after another strange clearing of his throat, Scrooge brought words into the small, trapped-reality the two of you shared.

"What would like, is for you to go home," He commanded sharply. "And ensure my coin is put to good use, by arriving back here on the morrow, on-time."

You blinked. "You... would like me to return? Even after-"

"Was it not what I said?" Ebenezer interrupted, voice even sharper than before... no. Now it bordered on shrill, something choked. "You certainly won't be if you were to catch a chill, a likely consequence if you were to remain-out any longer on this night."

It's a dismissal, but one that barely registers until he jerks his head back, briefly facing you with the gesture.

The sight of cheeks, dusted in a deep-pink besides his well-trimmed salt-and-pepper sideburns, is enough to make you blink. Certaiy, the chill is enough to coax a darker-shade onto one's skin, and you know that you have some frost-nipped skin of your own, but Scrooge's shade was enough to worry you.

Others might dance a jig at the thought of old Ebenezer Scrooge catching a chill, long-standing karma being served at last, but a burst of worry still resides within you.

The thought of ailment or illness befalling the gentleman, even if that gentleman was Scrooge, was enough to grant you concern at the sight of reddened-cheeks. Emotion outfitted sense, as you stepped forward. "Sir, are you quite well-?"

"Go home," He snapped, the sound harsh and reverberating through gritted teeth. More akin to a growl of a hunter than man, causing you, the prey, frozen in your steps with wide-eyes. "I hardly plan to pay you for remaining later-hours, and I will still expect you upon the morrow without delay. It would be, in your upmost best interest, to leave."

A dismissal.

Ebenezer Scrooge was... letting you off, with only a dismissal.A mere be-gone for the evening, no different than any other you have received in the days-past, if a little more scornful than the rest.

You'd be a fool not to take this gift, perhaps the only the old bastard could provide - absolution, an escape from this humiliation transgression.

You would be a fool not to take it. Yet, you're the kind of fool to hesitate.

Not long - you don't have a death-wish, despite recent actions may otherwise suggest - but after another moments' pause to study the man, you hesitated curstied in obedient politeness, gathering your skirts high-enough to step down the ice-slick porch-steps.

You had little fear of falling, having traversed this walk on the daily, but some part of you felt quite uncertain.

As if the axis of the world has shifted, in some form or the other, and you walked down the steps with uncertainty of what exactly it was.

And how different your world would look, come morning.

For the moment, longing to remain in normalcy, you turned and called back your quiet, routine salutations to the Master - or rather his back. He had yet to face you fully.

"Good-night, Mister Scrooge."

Stepping down the lane with a tug of your shawl tighter around you, the streetlamp you pass-by offers temporary warmth, refuge from the uncertainty and the unsteadiness beneath your feet...

"Good-night."

... which became only more unsturdy beneath your heels, at the sound of Ebenezer Scrooge, the most miserable man in town, wishing you a good night.

Unheard of.

Inconceivable.

The gentleman had never provided you with a pleasantry in all the time you've known him, and yet now, it's offered in a way that could almost be described, daresay, as soft.

A sharp turn, harsh pivot, that miraculously doesn't send you sprawling onto the ice-slick path, but it's too late. The click of the cane on cobble is enough to signal his retreat, and the sight of his back, shawl catching on a snowy-breeze, is enough to confirm his escape before you can question it.

Before you can question if it had even happened at all, or if the snow-filled wind carried words as well as ice.

Perhaps you had fallen into madness - surely, the only true explanation for your lapse in good-sense in the first-place.

It was a more pleasing thought, than whatever it could possible mean that Scrooge felt the urge to offer a nicety after such transgression, and one you worked-steadfast of to convincing yourself at, all the way to your small apartment several blocks over.

It was the one-comfort you found, once dressed and tucked beneath your sheets. The solace was well-suited for your buzzing mind, the delusion that his parting-words were merely something of illusion enough to send you into a restful-sleep.

So restful, that you quite nearly forgot the incident entirely upon return to the waking-world.

Certainly, the motification remained in regards to your own-actions, which you were certain had occurred in reality. There came moments when your lips seemed to recall a soft, unfamiliar presence when memories returned of the incident, ensuring you did not forget it.

Apology, one in daylight and well-rehearsed to display true remorse, was well in-order.

You also suspected such would put your mind to ease. While the gentleman had seemed keen to erase the moment in the minutes-following, you resigned to put the event of transgression well-out of your mind, as well as the impossibility of good-night that had followed, and an assurance that such behavior would never transpire-again.

Closing the chapter entirely, and forgetting it's contents.

Including the one where you imagined Ebenezer Scrooge, of all people, wishing you a good-night.

Absurdity!

Such fantasy was only liable and expected to be forgotten entirely, in order to move-forward in life. And when you stepped into his buisness the following-morning, you had intended to do just that. Begin to forget the fact that you had kissed Ebenezer Scrooge, and in response, he had bid you good-night.

That had been your plan.

Your first-step towards normalcy, the first stride back into stability, and you had taken it into his office with an optimistic smile hinting at your face, as you pushed open the door.

Your plan to move-past the incident was foiled immediately, when you opened the door to the man's office.

Catching sight of that same accursed sprig of spiked-green and perfect red-berries, atop Mister Ebenezer Scrooge's otherwise entirely plain-desk, and settle in a filled-glass of water.

Preserving the event with it's allowed continued existence.

And once-more shifting reality into realms uncertain, when steele-blue raise from endless inspection of the cut-plant, to entourage gaze in an examination of equal-intensity.

The gaze neutralized. Becoming safely familiar, even as the words that followed, were not.

"Good morning."

And you realized, it would not be so-easy to return to what reality had been. Before the night prior where you had taken the apple, the hand-to-hell, in the form of following the practice of mistletoe.

Because, there was now no possibility to return from when-once-you-came.

A fact solidified, when you opened your mouth, and whispered in-repeat words you never thought such a miserable man was capable of saying to you...

"Good morning."

... but the fact that he did, was a fact that confirmed that change was here, like the days' fresh-blanket of cool snow upon the city of London.

A change refreshing, despite the uncertainty it held for the winter ahead.

#how could netflix do this?#scrooge: a christmas carol #scrooge 2022 #scrooge 2022 x reader #ebenezer scrooge #scrooge x reader #netflix #reader insert #this is only 50% joke #guess what the other 50% is #fanfic #female reader #scrooge fanfic #writing #christmas

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antiromanticbaby · 6 months

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Black Lotus - Satan

Prince!Satan x GN!Reader

[✧] ー we need more Victorian era themed stuff of these characters :( happy late birthday, Satan <3

Summary: Satan's birthday ball had been quite suffocating, he wanted a break. And who else better than the masked stranger on the balcony to strike up a conversation with? Similar to: roses - lucifer beware: I'm trying to write something historical (just tad bit) so correct me if any title was wrong alright? It's kinda hard keeping it gender neutral ;-; You can listen to: undecided for now, any classic song goes well. my recommended song is merry-go round of life Not proof read

TO think he would be stuck here of all places. Yes, Satan appreciated the fact that his brothers had gone as far as throwing a full blown ball for his birthday, but it was so unnecessary. Uncomfortable in his own skin, hidden behind a mask and smile. He would much rather sit in the silent library, without all these eyes on him, as he enjoyed a roller coaster of adventures with his beloved books. These restrained smiles, two faces now turned three, laughing and enjoying a birthday he wasn't. The big reveal was yet to come. The plan was for him to communicate with other nobles without them keeping themselves back just because he was the fourth born prince. Hence why masks covered everyone's faces. But Satan would much rather do the communication with what the others deemed as peasants than nobles. After all, many of these nobles were of no interest to him. They were just puppets, thinking they were the puppeteer, unaware to all the strings his brothers had attached to them.

He could read these nobles like open books, yet they thought a smile would protect them from Satan's sharp mind and eyes. While this ball did boost his ego (and was his chance at meeting suitors), he wanted a break. There people hired by his brothers to look like the 'prince', and converse with others so they would be distracted from the actual prince. Satan glanced at where all the gifts where.

All these and yet no books? How disappointing.

He needed a break, didn't he? He was tired of keeping up this act. Unfortunately for him, as he approached his favorite spot in the ballroom -the balcony- someone was already there. At least it was one person, not a group of drunk nobles. Whoever this person was, they seemed to be silent too. Good for him. But if this other guest also wanted a break from these nobles, perhaps they could get along. So he decided to approach them, you. He was the prince, he could break rules anytime.

"Good evening, sir/miss. You know, there is an indoor space with couches and tables, correct? Surely your grace wouldn't want to catch a cold." Satan spoke, keeping his distance. Neither of you knew each other's identity and he wondered just how he should address you. You probably had no idea. He decided he would speak about this matter later tomorrow with his etiquette teacher.

You turned around, unbothered by his presence. Of course you were, you viewed him like any other noble guest here and not the prince. "My sincerest apologies, my lord. The ball was getting quite suffocating, so I came to the balcony for some fresh air."

"I know how that feels," Satan replies, his tone of voice still sounding dull. He couldn't help but agree. All night, nothing had grabbed his attention and that was boring him to death. He was tempted to sneak out and back to the library but knowing the annoying eldest, he'd be dragged back in no time. He frowned. Usually nobles came to balls with a partner, so where was yours. "Please disregard my question if it seems to invasive, but are you alone?"

"Yes unfortunately, I couldn't find a suitable partner for the night." you spoke. "If you do not mind answering, how about you, my lord?"

"Hm… I was here by force, this day is more of a celebration for my brothers than myself. I never took a liking to such events, people, conversations." Satan is rather blunt about this. However he made sure his statues are hidden. "What a coincidence, that we both find ourselves in the same predicament." he pauses, then adds, "You are very mysterious, I've never seen you before."

"What a coincidence, that you speak the same lines as the forbidden book 'Black Lotus*', the tale of a musician and a blind prince who only realized he had fallen for a man once the musician was executed." You hummed, smiling. It was the same predicament of the book too, only that none of you were blind. And that you hadn't expected him to be the prince.

"You are quite the bold one, admitting that you have read a forbidden book." Satan pauses for one moment before speaking, "But I must admit, I have read it too. I can't say I feel any sympathy for the blind prince, if only he could've seen the man who he loved, maybe it would've been a different story."

His expression, rather cold from the outside, is warmer than usual as he speaks. You nodded, speaking up. The sudden shift in Satan's attitude hadn't gone unnoticed by you. "And of course, the musician could see. The piece he had written out for the prince and him only... the piano sheets were written in the book and I am truly amazed at how beautiful it was." You sighed dreamily. "For our tale will never end in love. The name of the ballade was… fairy tale, right?"

"Yes, I believe 'fairy tale' is the name of the ballade. As if fate was mocking those who read it. Quite the wise of choice of name if I may speak." If it wasn't for the expressionless and masquerade mask, it would be possible to tell exactly how intrigued Satan actually is by the conversation; he might have even chuckled.

"Quite informant, my lord. I wonder how vast your library and how powerful your connections are." You chuckled, teasing him just the slightest. If the noble in front of you could have his hands on a forbidden book, you wondered what else he could do with his power. He raised his eyebrows, however the action was hidden beneath the mask. "Are you impressed by such things?"

"Who knows, my lord." You turned away from his prying eyes, a smile pulling up to your lips. "A wise and knowledgeable man such as you must have travelled a lot, am I correct?"

"Yes, my lord/lady. However, I have only travelled a little." he shook his head bitterly. "I live quite the secluded life, you see, I have been on a couple of... diplomatic missions. However, the most I've travelled is in and out of the palace library. I still read about distant lands and people and learn of their ways and customs. Though I am no longer allowed outside of our kingdom or this castle." he looks rather saddened by this comment. "My family has quite the power, and after my oldest brother, I would be the most suitable to take over. If he were to somehow die, I would be the first in line to take over our family, based on our parents' will. That would put a target on my back so my mother and father don't allow me out of the castle and our kingdom anymore."

"What a bitter tale, my lord. This reminded me of the tale of the magician who escaped the life of nobles and once his family took a hold of him again, he was forced to live a life of isolation until he was in power. And until then, his only escapism of this cruel reality were books." Your frowned at that. "And yet, all along, he knew that these books could only give him a semblance of reality."

"You mean 'The Mad Magician'? Were you aware that this book has been written based on true stories?" He asked, interested. You knew so many books didn't you? Perhaps you were more interesting than you let on. And in that moment, the mask on your face was looking more like an obstacle than anything else. What a mystery you were.

"There are days I could relate to that story." He pauses, a bittersweet smile forming on his face. "Sometimes I dream about leaving the castle, running away with nothing but the clothes on my back and whatever books I can carry, and never look back." he laughs, but there's a sadness to it.

You frowned at that. You knew how strict most royal families were, but to this extent? Perhaps if you knew more about his title and just who he was, you could have a better grasp. Before you could speak up, he did. "I often think of what would happen to me if my eldest brother is gone, will my life be any better? And as much as I try to despise him, I imagine that I would feel empty without him. The imagination of not having him is quite saddening, as much as I hate to admit it."

"You know, my lord," You paused, wondering how to word it. "Perhaps one day we can go on adventures together, and remake our favorite scenes in books."

"That sounds… appealing… we could explore the world and escape, even for a little while." Satan's eyes lit up. "To be free from our duties, our restrictions and to just explore… it's an alluring prospect, indeed."

"And perhaps, we can begin by sharing our full names, by taking our masks off." A smile tugged up to your lips. "After all, we have spoken of forbidden book and romance, this wouldn't change a thing, would it?"

You were caught off guard as Satan stepped closer, closing the distance between you. He grasped your hands in his and brought it to his mask, a smile finally gracing his cold demeanor. He allowed you to take it off, relishing in the way your eyes widened. You were talking to the prince all this time and only now you understood. "If our secrets are to be told, then I believe we should start with our faces. Now may I see yours, my lord/lady? What is it that I ought to call you?"

Your mouth fell agape and your hands went to your mask, but before you could take it off, hurried footsteps approached. A deep voice spoke up, and you could identify those intense red eyes anywhere. The crown prince, Lucifer. "It seems that you have taken your mask off before the due time, Satan." He gave you a passing glance before motioning for Satan to put it back up. "No matter, come with me quickly, it is about time we reveal who you are."

There was no room for objection as Lucifer walked back inside the ballroom, expecting Satan to follow. Just as things were going well, the eldest had to ruin it for him again. He put his mask back on, giving you a warm smile and nod of the head before leaving. That night, you left a black lotus in the balcony where you stood. And going home, you thought he would never know you.

Little did you know, you didn't go home alone that night.

But as time passed, you would notice lotuses appearing on your balcony. Each time on top of a new book, sometimes even forbidden books. Perhaps the ball wasn't as fruitless as it seemed, because soon enough, letters arrived too.

happy birthday Satan, our little ball of wrath.

Black Lotus: I came up with this book very randomly and chose this name because black lotus symbolizes death, and rebellion.

p.: And after two weeks of receiving endless flowers, a majestic carriage stopped in front of your castle/palace/mansion/place. You can decide how it went :)

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static-fucking-mess · 2 months

Text

"Billy—"

A dull buzzing thrummed through Billy's head as he pushed his palms into his eyes. The explosion of color there brought on by the pressure could almost be grounding, but it felt like the whole room was spinning. His ears rang, and his stomach felt cold. Was he shaking?

"Billy—"

The voice came to him like a dull roar from above water. God it felt like he was drowning. The pressure closing in on his ribs made each breath like labor pain. He was going to be sick, God he was sure of it. Was he crying?

Billy nearly jumped out of his skin when impossibly gentle hands grazed the outsides of his arms. Wide eyed and alarmed, Billy flinched into himself with his hands balled into fists, like he was getting ready to defend against a strike. A cornered animal with fangs ready to bite.

All at once that voice from above water came crashing in on him like a soothing balm. Eddie's dark eyes filled with so much love Billy almost feared he would overflow from it. He had to close his eyes again. It felt like salt in a raw wound to be treated so softly when all Billy felt like he was made of violence and razor wire.

"There he is; hey sweetheart. You had a nightmare," Eddie whispered to him. Billy registered that he was in fact crying, as Eddie's calloused thumbs were brushing the tears off his cheeks. Billy clenched his jaw until it creaked, trying not to fall to pieces. But how could he not when his boyfriend's arms encircled him and cared for each little piece like it was precious?

"I know," Eddie soothed, his palm spreading between Billy's shoulders, rubbing down his back and up again in large, soothing circles. "Which one?" He asked with gentle concern.

"S... seeing them m... melt away. The cold... the..." the sauna dream... where the walls of melted faces would echo back to him the things that vecna had told him. The helpless feeling of screaming for anyone to believe him. Believe him. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't. That monster made him, he didn't WANT to hurt people.

"It's 2:16 am, we're in our apartment in Chicago. It's Saturday morning. We had— do you remember what we had for dinner? I totally forgot," there was a gentle humor in Eddie's voice. "Remind me, sweetheart."

Billy wrinkled his nose and stopped to think about what a bizarre question that was, his stuttering breaths coming just a little easier as he thought back to earlier in the evening when Eddie had the radio cranked, singing along to My Sharona in weird ass voices, just to make Billy laugh. He'd made—

"Macaroni and cheese. Right from scratch... with hotdogs in it."

His favorite.

"With lactose free milk and cheese," Billy added quietly. Because those things mattered to Eddie. Billy's preferences and health. The things that would make him sick.

"You said I added too much pepper," Eddie teased, pressing sweet kisses to his cheek, his temple, the top of his head. Each one felt like a tiny 'I love you'.

"You did," Billy grouched, fingers twisting and untwisting in the ends of Eddie's curly hair. "See...? Gave me nightmares," he accused, allowing himself that small edge of humor.

Eddie laughed, but covered his heart with his hand as he pulled back to look at Billy, his whole expression lit with affection. Like he was searching for all the little broken parts of Billy to piece back together and love.

"Well you have my sincerest apologies, Sir Hargrove. Next time I will pluck each pepper from thy noodles until it is unto your standard," he snickered, and stole a tender kiss off Billy's reluctant smile.

"You better, Munson. And I expect the hot dogs more plentiful next time too."

"Of course, of course," Eddie smiled, rocking them both back and forth until Billy was laughing in his arms.

"I love you," Billy blurted, before he realized he'd said it. And then it was out there, and he tensed for the blow to come. The one that would wrench all that comfort away. He waited for Eddie to react more profoundly than he did.

"I love you too."

Like it was as easy as breathing. Because to Eddie, it was. Billy Hargrove was easy to love. Every jagged piece of him. And more than any conversation about grief, or dinner, or comfort Eddie could spin, those three words did more to comfort away the remnants of the nightmare than anything else. Because someone who didn't love you wouldn't see him the way Eddie did. Eddie loved like it was in short supply and he had an unlimited amount to give. Every gentle touch and action spoke to it. Especially when he squeezed Billy right to him to try and sink those words into his bones.

"I love you too."

#eddie munson #stranger things #mungrove #billy hargrove #y'all deserve something soft after today

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armoricaroyalty · 6 months

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Previous | Chapter Start | Beginning | Next

Transcript under the cut.

Nakawe International Airport // Armorica State Visit - Day 2

MARY | [via text] Landed, headed to baggage claim ROSALIND | [via text] Can't wait to see you 😍😍 MARY | [via text] Love you! FL with your speech PAPARAZZI 1 | [offscreen] ...is that her? PAPARAZZI 2 | [offscreen] It's her! There she is! PAPARAZZI 1 | Mary! Tell us about your relationship with the Crown Princess! PAPARAZZI 2 | How long have you been dating Rosalind? PAPARAZZI 3 | Where's your husband, Mary! Did you have him killed? MARY | Shit.

Nakawe v. Canaris

Nakawe Finance Society

ROSALIND | ...the philanthropic spirit is alive and well in the banking industry. ROSALIND | This year alone, major financial firms in both Armorica and Uspana have contributed well over §1 million to charity, in addition to advocating for deregulation to cut back on red tape for account holders. PHOTOGRAPHER 1 | [whispering] Is she for real? PHOTOGRAPHER 2 | [whispering] I can't tell if she believes everything she says or nothing. I dunno which'd be worse... ROSALIND | ...together, we can continue to push for real change and real diversity where it matters most: the boardroom. Thank you. [enthusiastic applause] [applause continues] ROSALIND | Thank you, thank you... [applause starts to taper off] BODYGUARD | [whispering] a situation at the airport... [audience murmurs] [microphone feedback] ROSALIND | Th-thank you. Unfortunately, we will be cutting today's program a little short. Please accept my sincerest apologies. [leaves] AUDIENCE MEMBER | ...but what about the Q&A session? :(

#armorica story #chapter 3 #behind the scenes #armorica collabs #nexility sims #character: mary yokoyama #character: andre st. fleur #character: vivienne meijer #character: julian reyes #character: rosalind st. fleur

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kristinamae093 · 7 months

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Ghosted

Ghosted - One Step Forward (Chapter Nine)

Series Summary - Prince Liam fell for Riley Brooks hard and fast. A marriage filled with love and devotion was within his reach. But everything changed when she vanished just before the end of the social season. As everyone voices their concerns regarding her scandalous departure, a confession from an unlikely source turns Liam's world upside down and makes him question everything around him.

Book/Pairing - TRR - Liam x MC (Riley Brooks)

A/N1 - This AU starts right before the beginning of the engagement tour. There is a two-month lapse between the coronation and where we pick up, but we will stray from canon. Please excuse any errors found.

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

A couple of mornings later, Liam stood beside Madeleine with bright lights blinding his vision. They were arriving at an early interview with an international broadcast team to spread awareness of their upcoming union. They made their announcement of the updated tour a few days prior, and the public was very receptive. Constantine, Regina, Adelaide, and Godfrey all presented a united front for the cameras with Liam and Madeleine; the only one who seemed opposed was Godfrey, who said it was a ‘wasted opportunity’, but still went along with the majority and showed his support.

Ever since, Liam found himself incredibly uneasy. He knew it was a bold move, but hoped having everyone rally behind him would work to his advantage. So far, he had been correct in his assumption. However, he realized that could easily change at the drop of a dime. The current moment of peace was incredibly unsettling as everyone waited on pins and needles; the fear of the unknown, along with the plethora of endless unanswered questions, ran rampant through his mind. Despite his attempts to portray himself as a strong, dominant leader, he knew those closest to him could see right through the cracks.

Liam met Ray briefly the night before. He and Olivia explained everything they were working on and Liam couldn’t believe so much went by them. Even Olivia expressed the same notion, but they both agreed that having Ray in their corner gave them a sense of relief. Although, the stress of a rebuttal heavily loomed on everyone’s conscience; all they could do was follow the leads they had, and hope for the best.

As they entered the studio, a boisterous voice caught Liam’s attention. They hollered at a few stagehands close by, drawing the attention of everyone around. “Do you not recognize this beautiful face? Let me in, baby doll. I need to get to my brother.”

The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you in without authorization.”

“I’m sure you can make an exception, can’t you?”

“No, I can’t–”

“Cummon… I know you know who I am, or who I used to be, anyway…”

“I apologize, but I can’t just–”

Liam approached and gave the woman a sheepish smile. “My sincerest apologies, but he is with me.” The woman flushed, but nodded and stepped aside.

“My man!” Liam suddenly found himself enveloped in a tight hug, his feet nearly lifting off the floor. “It’s so good to see you, Li.”

“You as well, but what the hell are you doing here, Leo?”

Leo flashed a smile as he pulled away. “I got a call from a little bird who said and I quote, ‘your brother needs some kind of emotional reinforcements; please come and assist before his tears stain all of my clothes’.”

Liam chuckled before he asked, “Liv?”

Leo nodded. “Yup. She did not give me details, however…”

“I’ll fill you in as soon as possible, but we have to be careful.”

“Say less. How are you, man?” Leo took in Liam’s tired eyes and slightly slouched posture, and knew he wasn’t doing the best. However, Leo could admit Liam must have stepped up his stoicism game; if Leo didn’t know exactly what to look for, he would be oblivious to Liam’s struggle just like everyone else.

“I’m fine, Leo.” Leo stared at Liam with a knowing expression. Liam let out a slight huff and emphasized, “I am, I mean – my mind’s racing a million miles an hour at all times with a plethora of what ifs, but…”

“We need to catch up properly later, brother.”

“That we do, Leo.” Liam gave him a sad smile before Leo pulled him into another hug. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot, especially now.”

“I always got you, Li, always.” Leo tightened his grip on Liam.

The stagehand from before approached the pair and timidly spoke, “Sir? They’re ready for you.”

The brothers stepped away from each other and Leo playfully punched Liam on the arm. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Liam walked away with a small smile and made his way back over to Madeleine. Madeleine made eye contact with Leo; she narrowed her eyes and visibly clenched her jaw, to which Leo smirked and blew her a kiss.

They ushered Liam and Madeleine around the studio and sat them on a couch in a small, but ornate set. The only other people in the vicinity were the camera crew, Leo and Penelope. Liam was undeniably tense, but knew this was what needed to happen; at least until they could get a solid lead, pointing them to what transpired with Riley. He had no other choice but to conform and show whoever was holding the cards that he was playing along.

After only a few moments, a tall woman with a slender frame appeared and bowed to the pair. “Your Majesties, I am Vivica Whittaker, a lead reporter for the International Gazette. It’s an honor to be here with you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Whittaker. We’re thrilled to be here. Aren’t we darling?” Madeleine asked Liam, her face trained in a bright smile.

“Of course,” Liam replied, trying to mimic her elated expression.

“Let’s get started, shall we? I understand you were on an international engagement tour, but decided at the last minute to stay in Cordonia. Can you explain the thought process behind that?”

“We have decided for the greater good of Cordonia we are going to tour our homeland. International support is important to us, and we plan to go on our intended venture at some point. However, we feel we need strength within our borders first.” Liam answered.

“We hope that by doing so, the people will see us as the united front that we are.” Madeleine beamed at Liam, the sight causing his breakfast to roll in his stomach. “Cordonia is our number one priority.”

“How is that going? Are the two of you enjoying your travels?”

“Indeed, we are,” Madeleine claimed. “It’s like living a fairytale every day with Liam. He makes me feel special and valued, like I’m the only woman who’s ever mattered.”

“What a special connection the two of you must have! Your Majesty, do you have anything to add?”

“I echo Countess Madeleine’s sentiments,” Liam responded in a flat tone. He wanted to scream his true feelings for all to hear, but kept his intrusive thoughts at bay. He cleared his throat and quickly added, “The sudden changes have gone over well, and we are thankful for that. To our international counterparts, I’d like to once again extend my sincerest apologies, and we hope you’ll consider joining us.”

“How do you balance your work and personal life, sir? I understand the busy life of a monarch, and I’d assume it would be fairly difficult to find the time to spend with your fiancé.”

“I make it work.”

“He’s being modest. He continuously blows me away, making sure I know just how much he loves me.” Madeleine reached for Liam’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “I know how much he cares, and that’s all that matters.”

“You two are couple goals!” Vivica clapped her hands. “But I have to address the — elephant in the room.” She spoke to Liam specifically. “The night of your coronation, you chose a different suitor in front of Countess Madeleine. Can you tell me what was going through your head at that moment, and how it has affected your current relationship?”

Liam could only stare at the woman before him. The lighting suddenly felt like infrared, beating directly down on his face. Sweat drenched his brow in an instant, and moisture gathered in the palms of his trembling hands. He counted to ten to steady his rapidly thumping heart, swallowed thickly, and responded in the calmest manner he could. “A lot was going through my mind that night and I wasn’t thinking clearly. I didn’t see the answer sitting right in front of me the entire time, and I regret not seeing it for so long…” He trailed off.

Although he hoped it was a vague answer, the truth the statement held momentarily hit Liam like a ton of bricks – because it was true, just in a different context. Until he opened his eyes to the truth, questions about that night were easy to divert; now, it was simply a daily reminder, a constant trigger for his unending guilt. He momentarily let himself get lost in the never-ending sea of things he didn’t do or neglected, further letting this chaos fuel itself.

Madeleine noticed his forlorn expression and babbled to direct attention back to herself. “He’s more than made up for his errors in judgment since then, and I hold no animosity toward him. What kind of woman would that make me if I did, Vivica?”

Vivica looked at Madeleine in awe. “You truly are such a role model. Let me ask what your thoughts are about the scandal against Lady Riley. She was one of the top contenders, some even saying above you before her scandalous departure.”

Liam visibly tensed beside her, but Madeleine straightened her posture and smoothly answered, “We have since moved on from that as well. We truly hope Lady Riley and Lord Tariq are happy, and we thank them for ridding themselves of our court.”

Madeleine shook her head and studied Liam with tears dancing in her eyes. “I can’t believe she would do such a thing to the people who gave her a life here. She betrayed her future King; he did nothing wrong, all he did was offer her the world. For her to throw it away, throw him away, as if he was irrelevant breaks my heart. But I’m thankful in the end; I’m the one who got to pick up the pieces.” She stroked his cheek, her vacant, calculated stare piercing into his soul.

Liam had to use all of his willpower to force a smile. Her touch felt like slime; it took every ounce of strength not to slap her hand away. He knew she was good, but not this good – if he didn’t know any better, he would believe her, too.

Vivica peered at them with longing eyes. “I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say I’m glad everything worked out in the end. Where is your next stop on your engagement tour?”

“The next official event is in Portavira. However, tonight I will celebrate our upcoming nuptials with my closest confidants at my bachelorette party.” Madeleine smiled.

The rest of the interview concluded without incident, nothing exciting or newsworthy; it was mostly Vivica and Madeleine speaking of the wedding arrangements, as well as Madeleine discussing her plans as a future monarch. Liam interacted when appropriate but stayed silent otherwise. Although he carefully kept the appearance that he was listening to the women as they animatedly spoke before him.

When the questions concluded, Liam quickly stood and made his way over to Leo, who was talking to a brunette beside the refreshment table. Liam cleared his throat as he approached, and Leo shooed the woman away. “You didn’t have to do that, Leo.”

“Nah, she was killing my vibe, anyway.” Leo snickered. “Dude, I almost thought you really loved Madeleine. Like, wow. You guys are fucking convincing!”

“Thanks, I guess.”

A bout of silence overtook the brothers as Leo tried to think of what to say. He remained unsure of what was going on, as they hadn’t received the chance to speak in a private setting. “Hey, Li, did I hear her right? It’s her bachelorette party tonight?”

“Yep.” Liam slightly chuckled. “It’s not funny, but… Olivia has to go.”

Leo howled with laughter. “What do you mean ‘not funny’?! That’s hilarious!”

“She doesn’t think so. I believe her exact words were, ‘We’ll see if I make it through the night without making a kabob out of her’.’’

“Good. Saves us a lot of trouble.” The brothers shared a small laugh, but another stillness came shortly after. “Li, if the devil is gonna be busy anyway, let’s go do something, man; take your mind off all this bullshit.”

“I’ll try, but–”

“No, no buts. You need to get out of here for a bit; let your hair down, and try to relax.”

Liam scoffed. “Relaxing is the last thing I should do right now, Leo. You don’t understand what’s been going on–”

“Exactly! How can I help if I don’t know what the hell we’re dealing with?”

“You’re… right…” Liam sighed, as he truly considered the offer. “Okay, we’ll do something later.”

“Way ahead of you, brother. Figured you’d need an escape after a morning of press ops, so I booked us a spa for the afternoon. Even secured enough spaces to bring Max and Drake along.”

Before Liam could respond, Madeleine’s voice rang out through the nearly deserted studio. “Penelope! Where the hell is my lemonade?!” Both watched Penelope scurry toward Madeleine and timidly offer her the drink. Madeleine took a sip and practically threw it back at her. “What is that?! I asked for sweetened, you imbecile!”

Penelope shrieked as the cold liquid covered her face and drenched her hair. “I–I–”

“I–I–” Madeleine mocked. “FIX IT!” she bellowed, causing Penelope to flinch and run away.

Leo scoffed. “Wow.”

“Tell me about it,” Liam answered. “All day, every fucking day.”

“So we have upgraded ultra cunt to super duper ultra cunt? Free of charge?”

“Unfortunately, so. This is mild compared to some of the things I’ve witnessed. Once, she made Penelope cut her skirt and put it on the ground so she wouldn’t have to walk through a puddle.” Liam rolled his eyes. “She’s absolutely out of control.”

“Why’s Penelope letting her treat her that way?”

Liam shrugged. “I would guess to appease the soon-to-be Queen and try to stay on her good side.”

“That seems extreme.”

“If the past couple of weeks have taught me anything, it’s that nobles will go to extreme measures to get what they want…” Liam trailed off, an air of sadness and regret notable in his tone.

Leo clapped Liam on the back, reassuringly squeezing his shoulder. “Come on man; fuck them, fuck the court, let’s go relax.”

Liam sighed. “Leo, I want to, but I need–”

“You need to relax for a bit, Li. Spend some time with your brother. Whatever is going on, Olivia is handling. Let her do her thing, and let’s unwind a bit.”

Liam remained hesitant to agree, but Leo made a valid point. Plus, the thought of being away from everyone telling him how to act and who to be sounded incredibly cathartic. A small smile crept onto his face and he finally answered, “Alright, let’s go.”

“Bet, I’ll call tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumb.”

Liam and Leo met up with Drake and Maxwell a short time later and made their way over to the spa Leo reserved. As they arrived, everyone started in a changing room, where they shed their clothes and wrapped themselves in warm towels. A staff member led them to a big, ornate room with one larger pool in the middle and another smaller one to the side.

They lowered themselves down into the bigger area, each letting out a content sigh of relief. Liam reached for the tray of drinks that was left for them and passed them around to the group.

Leo sighed as he sat back and took a long swig from his glass. “You know, this cider is still one of the best spirits I’ve tasted – and I’ve sampled a lot.”

“I don’t think being an alcoholic classifies as bragging rights.” Drake retorted.

“Ha!” Leo howled. “Are you fucking kidding me, Mr. ‘all I drink is whiskey’?”

“Whiskey isn’t just alcohol, it’s art – thank you very much.”

“It’s alright, but what about literally anything else?”

“I don’t need a pussy drink to get a buzz,” Drake responded with a shrug.

“What about my pineapple paradise punch? You love that, right?” Maxwell asked, his expression hopeful.

“Nope, sure don’t. I only drank it last time because you hid all the whiskey, didn’t you?”

Maxwell sank further into the pool. “No……”

“Mm hmmm, bullshit. I’m on to you, Beaumont. I’m lucky I didn’t start my period drinking that frilly shit!”

“Man, I remember the last time I had that stuff. Well, barely…” Leo recalled as he stared off into space with a crooked smile.

“Yeah, isn’t that when you got caught with your pants around your ankles behind the staircase at your last Bash?” Liam chimed in as he hid a mischievous grin behind his glass.

Leo’s eyes shot open, his jaw dropping instantaneously. “Dude! You swore you’d never tell!”

Liam snickered. “I didn’t tell them — you did, right after it happened.”

“For real?” Leo asked Maxwell and Drake.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Big time.”

“Huh…” Leo raised his glass and took a sip. “Well, no shame in my game, I guess.” He said with a shrug. “Needed to rub one out and I couldn’t find a decent selection. It was that, or try to get it up for Maddy.”

“That’s still pretty fuckin’ weird,” Drake responded with a mortified expression.

“No, what was strange was when he continued even after being caught,” Liam interjected with a shudder.

“What was I supposed to do?! Put it away?”

“Uh, yeah… Regina was absolutely mortified.”

Drake downed the contents of his glass in one gulp. He forcefully sat it down next to him and stood. “On that note, I’m gonna hit the cold plunge for a bit; soothe my bones.”

“Alright, Grandpa.” Leo chided.

“Fuck you, Rys.”

“Can I come?” Maxwell asked with a hopeful expression.

Drake pondered it as he looked from Liam to Leo and sighed before he finally relented. “Fine. But I swear to God – if you say one word about a goddamn peacock–”

“I won’t!” Maxwell exclaimed as he climbed out and ran toward the smaller pool. Drake reluctantly followed behind, shaking his head and grumbling to himself as he went.

Liam and Leo laughed at Drake and Maxwell’s antics before a tense silence came over them. Liam submerged himself in the water and lay with his neck against the edge, trying his hardest to let the gentle ripples wash his worries away. Leo racked his brain, trying to calculate how to approach the conversation that brought him here; Olivia gave no information over the phone, but he knew if she was calling, it was something serious. Leo also recognized Liam would not reach out for help; even if he was on fire and needed water, Liam would suffer in silence and shoulder the burden alone.

Leo was there to ensure that did not happen, no matter what.

Leo drained the contents left in his glass and sat it down before he started, “So… Seems like you’re a little on edge...”

Liam scoffed. “That’s an understatement.”

“Oh? Anything you want to talk about?”

Liam sighed and sat up. He kept his gaze on the pool water in front of him as he softly answered. “I just have so many unanswered questions…”

“Riley?” Liam nodded, so Leo continued. “What exactly happened?”

Liam cautiously looked around the room, leaned in, and quietly told Leo everything they knew. He left out the grimy details regarding the maid’s murder, but redacted nothing otherwise. When he finished, Leo stared wide-eyed into the pool in front of him, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “Wow…”

“Yeah… I can’t wrap my head around everything. I knew something was off, but I let everyone around me convince me I was wrong to feel that way.”

“You mean father?”

Liam nodded with a remorseful expression. “Yes, along with Madeleine, Regina a few times, and not to mention the tabloids. I look back now and wonder how I could have been so stupid, so blind to the truth.”

“Look, I know how relentless our father can be. How do you think I ended up engaged to Madeleine? I didn’t pick her because I wanted to — I chose her because he made me feel like I had to. He hounded me day and night about it. Again, why do you think I was constantly escaping from Bastien?”

“I know you understand how he can be. But once again, I feel like I’m being backed into a corner. Even with the alternative route on the tour, we’re still running out of time and we’re no closer to getting answers than before. I know I must marry Madeleine, but how can I even fathom such an idea when there’s a very good possibility someone plotted to put her there?”

“You think that was their goal?”

Liam finally turned his gaze from the pool in front of him to Leo. Leo saw a world of emotions flicker through Liam’s eyes, his bright blue orbs darkening to nearly black. The unending rage he felt flourished; coursing through his body and creating a tidal wave of unaddressed emotions.

“Absolutely. It’s the only theory that makes any kind of sense. Someone removed Riley from the situation and either staged or altered pictures to paint the scene that she left to be with Tariq. Someone blackmailed Olivia to force her away, and she would have been my second choice; Madeleine essentially won by default. In the two months between the coronation and the beginning of the engagement tour, nothing happened because I played right into their bullshit. Once I started asking questions and poking my nose around, they started eliminating loose ends.”

“That makes sense… you said something about a guy you hired?”

“Yes, but keep that between us. Bastien doesn’t even know his true intentions; nobody does besides a select few I know I can trust. I can’t risk another incident like with the maid; we can’t lose any more leads. He’s checking into the source of the article with Olivia and attempting to locate Tariq and Riley. Until he uncovers something or the forensics comes back, there’s nothing we can do.” Liam quietly answered and turned his gaze back to the pool in front of him, the dark clouds of despair threatening to take over once again.

A silence overcame them as Leo tried to figure out how to respond. However, Liam spoke again before he could. “Leo… the more time that passes, the more I feel like something truly terrible happened that night. There’s no reason for either of them to be completely untraceable. I mean, you know Tariq! The man is practically fucking useless out in the real world! There’s just no way…” He shook his head. “I can’t fathom it. Where did they go? Why hasn’t Bastien been able to find them?”

“Well, Li, you and I both know Bastien is kind of stupid. He didn’t even make running from him that hard, to be honest. That guy has the capabilities of a premature fucking kitten.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Liam slightly laughed. “I know… but I’m hopeful Ray, er, Harold, will find something, anything leading to her whereabouts. I care about locating Tariq, but Leo – I need to see that she’s okay. As much as I hate to think about it, I know someone injured her before she left. That maid told us she was unsteady but seen walking down the hall, so I guess it’s reassuring that nobody carried her out, at least.” He spoke just above a whisper, his tears threatening to flow freely.

“Liam, I know what kind of pressure you were, and are still under. I understand, more than most. Honestly? I don’t know what I would have done in that situation; it’s an impossible thing that nobody should have to face.” Leo shrugged. “But… the most important thing is you’re doing what needs to be done, and that’s what matters now. We’re going to find them, Li, I just know it.”

“I… I’m trying to stay hopeful, Leo, I really am…”

Leo nodded with a sad grin before he quietly started again. “Liam… brother to brother… tell me, in all reality, are you going to marry Madeleine?”

Liam sighed and remained silent for a long while to gather his thoughts. “I–I’m not sure at this point. I don’t want to, but I know it is what’s expected of me.”

“Who says?”

“Tradition dictates that–”

“Liam, fuck tradition.” Leo interrupted. “You did what you were supposed to do to ascend the throne; from there, it’s your call what happens. I know you want to do right by those who have worn that crown before you, and I get that, I do – but you can pave your own way and do things how you see fit!”

Liam looked at Leo with a torn expression. He opened his mouth to respond but was silenced when Leo spoke again. “Liam, you are in control here, not anyone else. You can do whatever you want! You don’t have to let our father, or anyone else, dictate what you do. If you want to follow your heart and say fuck it all, there’s not a lot anyone can do to stop you!”

“What if people doubt me? What if the court questions my decision-making? Because as rough as it is to admit, you and I both know Madeleine would make a decent Queen! And they already think I’m unstable because of what happened at my coronation."

“Liam, fuck what people think. You’ve spent your entire life bending over backward for the throne, even when it wasn’t yours to inherit. You’ve never done a single goddamn thing for Liam. I heard stories about you and Riley during the season, and I wish I had been around to see it. I saw pictures of the two of you from the Regatta and I have never seen you so happy. If that happiness is within your reach, I want you to take it. Fuck everyone else.”

Liam didn’t respond, only kept his vision to the pool in front of them. Leo took in Liam’s dejected expression and added. “I also know about a certain clause that could be useful if you were to see fit…”

Liam sighed. “Trust me, I’m familiar with it. A part of me wants to call off the rest of the tour and the engagement alike, but I know that won’t help us figure out what happened to Riley. I’m convinced someone in the court is responsible, and to disperse them would make this more of a nightmare. For now, I must act as if I truly intend to marry Madeleine. I’m at least trying to project that I’m okay with it, but – you and I both know how she is, especially with a Crown in her sights.”

“Boy, do I.” Leo guffawed. “Listen… I understand why you’re continuing for now, but that doesn’t mean you have to go through with the wedding. You already know what to do to call it off; the only thing stopping you is yourself.”

“I just hope we can get some answers before I have to decide,” Liam responded with a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry, Liam…If I never would have abdicated…”

“If you never would have abdicated, I never would have had a social season, which means I never would have gone to New York and ultimately never met Riley. She’s the greatest gift life has given me… All I can pray for is her safety, wherever she may be,” Liam replied with a sad smile.

Leo placed a reassuring hand on Liam’s shoulder. “We’re going to figure this out, Liam. I’ll do whatever I can to help you, and I’ll do the absolute most to keep dad off your ass.”

Liam half laughed and pulled Leo into a tight hug. “Thank you, Leo. It means the world that you dropped everything to come here for me.”

“That’s what big brothers are for,” Leo replied as he squeezed Liam tighter, hoping to calm his brothers’ heavy anxieties. He didn’t know what he could truly offer, but regardless, he was going to provide Liam with a sense of grounding; when the weight got to be too much, Leo would be there.

As Liam and Leo released each other from their embrace, Drake stalked toward them with Maxwell trailing behind. His face was red with exasperation and he walked with his hands balled at his sides, determination in his steps.

“Okay, I’m done entertaining Maxwell. Hope you two had a touching family bonding moment, but it’s over now.” Drake griped as he reached them.

“Oh, come on! I didn’t even mention peacocks!” Maxwell pleaded.

“No, but I shouldn’t have to tell you I don’t care how comfortable your nuts feel in your goddamn underwear!”

“They’re ball hammocks! I’m just trying to help you out!”

Liam and Leo shared a laugh at their nonsense. After some extra time at the spa, they agreed to rest and have dinner later. Liam smiled, knowing Madeleine should have already left for her festivities by now, so at least he knew he shouldn’t have to deal with her until morning. However, he couldn’t stop his mind from racing as he wondered how Olivia and Ray were faring, and if they had come across any answers.

Olivia bobbed and weaved her way through the mass of people in the high-end lounge hosting Madeleine’s party, Ray not far behind. Although this was the last place she wanted to be, she knew it was time to make her presence known; she was ready to go back into the lion’s den and rejoin the court.

So far, the search for Riley and Tariq brought no leads. Ray reassured Olivia that he still had places to look, but that only calmed her flourishing uncertainties for so long. On the plus side, he worked his magic and had insurmountable success with the article.

Ray hacked into multiple accounts and finally landed inside the photographer’s correspondence. The woman was merely a paparazzi and posted everything using a public computer. It was tricky, but he not only found the digital receipt for the bank transfer, but also the initial message requesting service. They offered a hefty payday, as well as detailed instructions for entering the estate and what specific shots would be required; attached at the end was a word-for-word story written out, only missing an author’s name. A comparison showed them the finished product mimicked what they sent word for word. When he tried to look into the sender’s information, Ray could not trace it; firewalls and other encryptions blocked him at every turn. Regardless, he stumbled upon a golden piece of evidence.

Ray deciphered the receipt and collected the account number of the sender. From there, he transferred the information to a well-trusted associate; someone Olivia had used herself for aid in the past. The goal was to attach a name to said account and then – they would finally have a solid lead.

Olivia was confident an answer was looming in their near future — it was so close she could practically taste the satisfaction of the victory on her tongue. In the meantime, it was time for her to ‘show her support’ and play pretend, the same as Liam. Olivia and Ray couldn’t think of anything else they could accomplish or uncover in the shadows; it was time to broaden their spectrum and test the waters of the nobility, starting with the other former suitors.

Olivia approached the table where the ladies were sitting and put her hands on her hips. “What a coincidence running into you here, Countess.” She chided.

Madeleine visibly tensed. “Olivia? What are you doing here?”

“Surprised to see me? Perhaps that’s because I didn’t receive an invitation to this little soiree.”

Madeleine clenched her jaw as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Can you blame me? Why would I want you here?”

“Well, first off, let’s not forget who the first choice was...”

Madeleine’s jaw fell to the floor. “How dare you,” she turned from her usual shade of porcelain to ruby in an instant, her annoyance escalating rapidly.

Olivia smiled warmly. “I didn’t mean it as a slight, my dear Maddy… I’m only stating facts. Regardless, you’re welcome.” She batted her eyelashes with an innocent expression.

“I owe you nothing,” Madeleine growled with narrowed eyes. “Why don’t you go crawl back to Lythikos and stab a tree, or some other barbaric nonsense that your kind practices?”

Olivia snickered. “Come on, Maddy, you know as well as I do that it's tradition for all the suitors to attend the engagement festivities. I’m only doing my part...”

Madeleine rolled her eyes. “Your presence is unappreciated, but noted. You may leave – now.” She emphasized, trying to shoo Olivia away with her hand.

Olivia howled with laughter but stopped as she took in Madeleine’s intent gaze. “Oh, you were serious?”

“Absolutely!”

Olivia plopped herself down at the booth. “Well, unfortunately for you, I do what I want. Now, what are we talking about, ladies?”

Madeleine growled and mumbled something under her breath, but Olivia couldn’t make it out. Kiara and Penelope shared hesitant looks, both seeking permission from Madeleine to speak. Olivia ignored their silent conversation as she realized something; even without Riley, they were still missing a suitor.

“Where’s Hana?”

“Who?” Madeleine answered, avoiding eye contact.

“Hana… Hana Lee.”

“Oh! Right! Hana!” Madeleine exclaimed after a long moment. “I extended the invitation, but unfortunately, she declined to attend.”

“Did she say why?”

“No, she didn’t.” Madeleine eyed Olivia suspiciously. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Olivia snapped. “I was only making an observation, is all.”

“Humph.” Madeleine lifted her nose to the sky and crossed her arms, turning her body away from Olivia. The three women quietly spoke amongst themselves, intentionally excluding Olivia; not that she cared. The only reason she was there was because she knew it would be heavily publicized, and true to fashion, the reporters snapping photos of them inside at random moments proved her theory to be correct. Since she was absent from the first few events, she figured jumping in with this ‘intimate gathering’ would show she was going along with the ruse as well.

Throughout the night, the ladies attempted to put space between themselves and Olivia, but she would promptly follow them. Kiara seemed less off-put, even trying to converse a few times. Penelope, however, wouldn’t even make eye contact, let alone speak to Olivia. In a couple of occurrences, Olivia caught Penelope intently watching her. She quickly averted her gaze, but not before Olivia noticed, and she lost count of how many times it happened. The expression she wore each time piqued Olivia’s interest; equal parts curious and apprehensive.

The ladies bounced their way around the dancefloor most of the night. Olivia didn’t join, but stood still as a statue close by with Ray not far away, intently watching their every move. At one moment, Ray tapped her shoulder and attempted to tell her something, but Olivia couldn’t hear him over the surrounding commotion. He motioned to a side door and pulled her to it before Olivia could protest; the noble ladies slowly fading from view.

As they made it outside, Ray studied the area to secure their privacy. “What’s going on?” Olivia tentatively sought.

“I got the details on that account.”

“And?”

“We have a name.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’m not in the mood for games, Harold. Spit it out.” She snapped, her patience quickly dissipating.

“Penelope Ebrim,” Ray answered with utmost confidence. However, Olivia started laughing, hard enough that tears were forming in the corner of her eyes.

“I’m serious, look.” Ray reiterated, holding his device to her. He showcased a comprehensive report on all incoming and outgoing transactions from their target and started listing them off. “Charity donation, coffee, coffee, dog food, a hefty charge to some online place called ‘American Girl Dolls’, but here, this one –” He pointed to a specific line. “– The date matches, the account numbers match, and it’s the exact amount offered in that correspondence.”

“Ho-ly shit…” Olivia gasped. Out of everyone who could have been involved, Penelope was the last person she could have suspected. “We have to question her.”

“Is she here?”

“Yeah, inside with the others.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

Olivia nodded, and the two took off into the crowded vicinity. They sped to the area the ladies were in when they left, but there was no sign of them. After checking there, they went back to the booth from before, only to find another party occupying it. They searched the bar, bathrooms, and anywhere else they could think of. After a while, Ray and Olivia decided they were gone and opted to leave and resume their search for Riley, intending to speak with Penelope at a later time. However, as they exited onto the street, they saw someone crawling into a taxi, and upon quick inspection realized it was Penelope.

“Penelope!” Olivia yelled. She knew Penelope heard her because she suddenly moved quicker. Olivia rushed over to stop the vehicle, but wasn’t fast enough.

The cab drove away and Olivia could see the back of all three ladies’ heads in the window. Penelope, however, was the only one who glanced through the back windshield and locked eyes with Olivia. She noticed the tears that glistened on Penelope’s cheeks in the dim streetlamp lighting, even from afar; the glistening of her running make-up sparkled as it ran down her face. Olivia wanted to believe the clueless, ditzy, poodle-obsessed Penelope couldn’t have been involved in something of this nature, but all the signs said otherwise.

The car faded into the night, leaving Olivia and Ray cemented in place on the nearly deserted street. Frustration coursed through both of their veins, as more questions seemed to pile themselves on top of the already unending list.

Regardless, they now had a name and concrete, undeniable evidence that Penelope was involved – she wouldn’t be able to deny knowing something. It wasn’t much, but it was a start to what they hoped would be the end of this never-ending spiral of madness.

All they had to do was get to Penelope and make her talk. Considering the next stop on the tour was Portavira, Olivia knew that opportunity would present itself, and soon. Penelope could run, but once the thunderous hand of her inquisitive monarch was added to the equation, she would have nowhere to hide.

Tags (if you'd like to be added or removed, please let me know): @choicesficwriterscreations @ao719 @txemrn @imashybish @queenrileyrose

@kingliam2019 @riseandshinelittleblossom @dcbbw @tessa-liam @amandablink @cordonia-gothqueen @sfb123 @jared2612 @harleybeaumont

@bebepac @charlotteg234 @busywoman

@malblk21 @angelasscribbles

@bascmve01 @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie

@mysticalfangirl @umccall71 @fuckitweball0000 @differenttyphoonwerewolf

@lovingchoices14 @emersyn-in-cordonia

@karahalloway @aussiegurl1234 @the0afnan @nestledonthaveone @gabesmommie1130

#the royal romance #choices the royal romance #king liam #liam rys #trr #choices trr #trr au #choices #liam x riley #ghosted #cfwc fics of the week #trr au fanfic #liam x mc

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mirrorsblogs · 2 years

Text

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐖. 𝐔𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙠𝙣𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙣.

Dangerous would not even begin to describe you walking alone at night in this area of town. Barely anyone walked through and you heard in the distance the drunken merry of men in the distance as you desperately made your way to the cabin in the forest.

“Might I help you, my lady?”

You turned to find a favorite of the King, Sir Wakatoshi Ushijima. He was known for his battle prowess and knowledge of any and all weapons.

“No thank you, I am alright.” You smiled abashedly and continued on your way.

“I apologize to you, my lady but I took an oath when I became a knight to protect the citizens of this kingdom.” You turned back ‘round and saw the great Sir Ushijima stand stoically a few paces behind you.

“Alright but do not disturb me.” He nodded and followed behind you at an appropriate length. If he was a regular townsman you might have made conversation but your nervousness got to you.

“What is you do, my lady?” The lumbering of his metal armor was heard from behind you.

“I am a physician’s assistant in the castle.”

“I must have missed you then. I would remember you.” You shook your head in amusement before letting a smile grace your face.

“And I you.” With your head kept forward you were unable to see Wakatoshi smiling lightly as he let his attention focus solely on you.

“How is it working there?”

“It is a lot of fixing up you knights.” Wakatoshi huffed a little in amusement.

“My sincerest apologies then.” You let out a huff as well.

The rest of the walk was filled with mindless chatter but Wakatoshi found himself hanging onto every word.

“Here is my home. Thank you for walking me home, good sir.”

“It is no issue, my lady.” A pause. “Now I know who to come to if I am injured.”

“Yes I believe you do.” You smiled at him and he smiled back at you.

On the day after this Ushijima had shown up at your work station with a nasty cut on his shoulder.

“When I said I would see you soon I didn’t mean this soon.” You huffed sarcastically as you gathered some things needed for the cut.

“It was not my intention.” He smiled a bit before staring straight forward.

You cleaned the cut with silence surrounding both of you until a particularly close swipe caused Wakatoshi to let out a hiss.

“I apologize, good sir.”

“It’s alright.” He remained stoic which made you turn your head away in shame. Without thinking Wakatoshi’s hand moved from his side to turn your head back around so you would be staring at him again. “It really is alright, my lady.”

Neither of you realized the proximity of the other until Wakatoshi opened his lips and let out a hot breath that fanned your lips. You cleared your throat and moved your gaze back down to his cut. Wakatoshi continued to stare down at you as you intently placed some bandages over the cut.

“Thank you, my lady.” Wakatoshi bowed his head.

“Not a problem.” You smiled and stood up ready to put back all the supplies. Wakatoshi grabbed your wrist before you could, however.

“I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

“No you did not, sir. It was rather enlightening.” You sent him a cheeky smile that caused Wakatoshi to leave in a stunned state.

You laughed a bit before resuming your work.

It was a few days later when you came back from the castle and decided to collect herbs you saw on your way back to your front door slightly ajar. You grabbed a cooking knife that you had stored in your boot and raised it in defense.

Slowly, step by step you entered the house until you heard a slight cling behind you. Instantly you turned around and shoved the person behind you into the wall and placed the knife with the point hitting their Adam's apple.

“I’ll cut your throat! That’ll shut you up!” These battle cries fell on deaf ears as Wakatoshi stared forward in full amazement and awe at you.

“You’re beautiful.”

At the sound of his voice you widened your eyes and finally realized who it was you had pinned with a knife. In an instant the knife clanged against the wooden floor as you took a step back in horror.

“Sir-”

“I t- trespassed. The door was open and I thought there was..an intruder.” Wakatoshi could not remember the last time he stuttered through a sentence like that.

His eyes became fixated first on your eyes that held a knife to his throat then your hair that moved slightly as you stepped back from him. He looked more and more at you and found nothing he could grow to hate.

After a few moments you had finally processed what he had said.

“Sir Ushijima, though I accept your affections I would not be the best person to chase after.”

“Why?” The pure curiosity in his eyes saddened you.

“People would down upon you for marrying a working woman rather than a noble lady.” He paused in contemplation for a moment before losing track of his thoughts by looking at your eyes again. When have I ever gotten so dazed when looking at one person?

You watched Sir Ushijima turn around from you but still look to be in thought just facing the wall.

“Sir, are you alright?”

“Sorry for my rudeness but your face seems to distract me from thought.” Wakatoshi glanced a little over his shoulder to see you holding in giggles with your hand. “As for your earlier statement I would wish to continue our courtship and see how it fairs.”

“Why me?”

“You make me throw rational thought out the window.”

“So this is your way of asking me out on a date?” Ushijima’s eyes widened and he quickly turned around.

“If that is what you want?”

“Tomorrow after your training. Pick me up at the physician’s office and we can dine.”

He smiled at you and shortly left thereafter.

You really are beautiful my lady.

#haikyuu royalty au #haikyuu royalty au x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #knight ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi royalty au #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima x yn #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x you #ushijima wakatoshi x yn #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x yn #hq #haikyuu #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x yn

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ziasann · 6 months

Text

star-crossed streets (first draft)

AU where Neuvillette is a running Presidential Candidate for the Court of Fontaine in the upcoming elections. Furina is a rising actress from the Opera Epiclese on her way to receive her own prestigious Teyvat Star Award.

Neuvillette only ever knew her name uttered by the mouths of other gentlemen.

“Miss Furina!”

The backdoor of the reserved VIP club splayed open, gorging out two figures of a man and a woman. They weren’t a couple, but it was obvious with how the inebriated man leered after the gorgeous lady that she was the object of his drunken infatuation for the night.

The silver and blue-haired woman called Furina, however, did not seem as enthusiastic as the lad. Her face was painted with a forced smile and crossed eyebrows towards her admirer.

Furina…

She was the soloist earlier at the beginning of the party, wasn’t she? Neuvillette recognized those striking indigo eyes and her gentle voice when she introduced herself after her splendid performance.

“Alas, sir, I am not very much interested in dating or so…” Furina politely refused as the man encroached further to her small form.

His fellow politicians were excited when they heard the Lady Furina would sing for their party. Navia, his running mate, had a friend who had another friend acquainted with the famous songstress Furina. She was able to pull some strings and invite her to their celebration tonight.

According to the latest polls, Neuvillette was the leading candidate in the Liffey Region. The entire campaign deserved some drinks and reveling after weeks of persevering work. A boost to their morale for the harshest weeks were yet to come.

Neuvillette, after finishing his rounds of greeting friends and colleagues, had enough socialization. He stayed in the shadows of the smoking area at the back alley, a lit cigarette between his fingers, unseen as he watched the singer and her pursuer before him.

When the stranger grabbed Furina’s gloved wrist, Neuvillette dropped his stick and stepped in. His boot squashing the half-smoked cigarette under his heel.

“Lady Furina had clearly explained her disinterest towards your affections, sir.” His presence was not welcomed as he spoke over them, the minimal light shining over his features as Neuvillette emerged out of his hiding place. “If you still decide to pursue her, we can take this matter easily to the Court.”

“M-Monsieur Neuvillette!” The man stammered, eyes as wide as saucers at the sight of him. “There is no need to raise this tiny issue at Court, I was merely hoping that Lady Furina would grant me some time of her day.”

“And she had refused you already,” Neuvillette retorted. The way Furina settled her riveting gaze towards him almost had Neuvillette shuddering. “Either you apologize to her right now, or the judges will grant you some time of their day soon.”

“My sincerest apologies, Miss Furina,” the bloke humbly bowed to the singer. “I could not help myself with such beauty and voice of yours.”

A woman worthy enough to commit a crime for, Neuvillette mused. How dangerous.

“It is fine,” Furina dismissed, but her eyes never averted from meeting Neuvillette’s stare head-on. “Please leave me alone now.”

The rejected man scampered away from them, his hurried steps toppling over the silence between Neuvillette and Furina.

Her brows were still slanted, and there was no smile of relief on her lips after thwarting her nuisance away. Her unusual reaction befuddled Neuvillette.

“Is there any other problem, Miss Furina?” Neuvillette asked. Maybe this wasn’t also the best place for a conversation, the road reeking of smoke and alcohol, the cold air buzzing with club music from the speakers indoors.

“I can handle it,” Furina glared, the softness on her tone was replaced with haughtiness. In a blink, the angelic atmosphere she exuded inside the club had dissipated in a wisp. “It’s not the first time.”

Gone was her pleasing personality, she was rough all around the edges. Her drastic change in behavior astounded him, he swore she was charming the people inside earlier with her meek smiles and amiable exchanges.

He couldn’t imagine Furina biting back, but here she was.

Neuvillette couldn’t stifle a chuckle or two in the desolate vicinity, no wonder the man moments prior was fascinated by her. He doubted that the man had caught a glimpse of Furina like this.

“W…What’s wrong with you?!” Furina accused, crimson blooming on her cheeks. The fierceness fading in her skin. “Never have I ever seen a Presidential Candidate making fun of his constituents like this!”

“I find it amusing, your act of a fine, proper lady during the party,” Neuvillette confessed. “You had me fooled into thinking that you needed help, when it is obvious you could have handled your persistent admirer anytime.”

“I was only saving his face,” Furina huffed. “If I reject him in front of his friends, he will never recover.”

“Which would not bode well for your popularity as a rising actress, would it?” Neuvillette observed.

“It would not,” Furina affirmed, then glanced at the pavement behind him where his shadow was drawn. The flat cigarette sticking to the ground. “In the same manner that your smoking habits would have a negative impact on your approval ratings as a future President of Fontaine.”

For a second, Neuvillette impulsively thought he could quit the nicotine if Furina asked. Maybe the wine they clinked their glasses with at the party was stronger than it seemed.

“Well,” Neuvillette admitted, a bit too honest even though he shouldn’t. Not when the elections were nearing, and every weakness of his could be exploited.

“It’s better than the people.”

A statement that could be taken out of context by the journalists, or the citizens. Every sentence he declared, every comment he stated since his filing of candidacy for presidency had to undergo the scrutiny of his advisors. A single approval or denial could destroy the entire career he had carefully built over the years.

Neuvillette expected the worst, one less vote since Furina found out he was not perfect. Maybe she’d tattle to the news outlets tomorrow and his team would battle a scandal early in the morning with a hangover. But she only smirked beguilingly, her cerulean eyes teasing under the moonlight.

“I agree, anything is better than the people around sometimes,” Furina seconded. “Now we know each other’s secrets.”

“That, we do,” Neuvillette nodded, and the longer he talked with her, the more he was in peril. “I bid you luck in your nomination for this year’s Teyvat Star Award.”

He sauntered towards the backdoor, ready to enter the bar again and return to his campaign managers. Wriothesley and Sigewinne would worry too much if he wasn’t in their sights for more than an hour.

“Thank you, Mister President,” Furina leaned by the bricked wall. As much as Neuvillette would like to, they could not barge into the club without attracting the attention of the tabloids both in the politics and entertainment sectors. Furina would either wait a few minutes more before going in or leave the night altogether.

“Congratulations again for your win in the Liffey Region, and I wish you the best in the upcoming elections.”

They wordlessly bid their farewells to each other, their masks and persona donned again in order to achieve their respective dreams. A sacrifice but a necessary one. Neuvillette couldn’t remember the last time he was this transparent and honest to another person, maybe during his time in the university.

He was glad he was witness to a side of Furina the world could never see. She was destined for far greater things, as he was also trudging on the path less traveled by the common folk.

Neuvillette wished they’d never meet again.

Or else, he would hopelessly fall in love with her.

#focallette #genshin impact #neuvillette x furina #drabble #first draft

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frontmansbitch · 1 year

Note

Can you please do a frontman x waitress!reader smut

His Meal (Front Man x Waitress!Reader)

♡ Synopsis || Your job is to deliver meals to the Front Man in time. One clumsy day made him prepare his own snack.

♡ Content warnings || Handcuffing, power dynamics, having control, eating out, dubious consent

♡ Author’s note || Apologies for the long, long wait (I was planning on coming back months ago oops) I would not blame you all if you have lost interest in Squid Game, but I hope you all enjoy reading this anyway if you stayed :) This will probably get a part 2 because I got another request similar to this one ;)

Tried my best to continue using genderless terminology so everyone can feel included

PART 1

The Front Man always requires his meals to be delivered straight to his floor on time. Or more specifically, to his room.

You can't even remember how long you have worked in this place, yet you still feel nervous every time you go up on that floor. Something about serving the manager of this place made you feel odd in your stomach.

Today you are late. Usually, you finish preparing lunch well before delivery time, but this afternoon you had to help clean up some of the circle soldiers' messes. Normally you work alongside the circle soldiers in helping out with domestic chores. Except you did not wear the pink jumpsuits. You did wear a mask, however, but it was not a simple geometric shape. It was to protect your identity, but it also felt to be a way to show off your devotion and loyalty to this place. You were one of a kind; your role was to be a 'waitress'.

Everyone had a hierarchical position in the facility. You were not sure what ranking you would be classified to be, but you knew that you were certainly in a more 'honourable' position than the circle guards you worked alongside. That's why the Front Man trusts only you to deliver his meals, and the reason why you – as far as you knew – were the only person that could walk on his floor beside himself and the host. For duty reasons, obviously. It's not like you could just wander around his floor as you wish.

Nervously, you knocked on his bedroom door, as that's where he usually rests around this time. A gap in between the door allowed you to peer through, making you able to have a glimpse of the back of his exposed head. You watch as he puts his mask on and pulls up his hoodie, covering up the dark hair he had. As he stands up to walk closer to the door, you take a step back and pretend you had not spied on him.

He opens the door. "You're late." The Front Man says before you could even say anything. "My sincerest apologies, sir, but there was a slight inconvenience I had to handle." "I do not care what it was, but be warier about your actions next time. You know how we must do everything perfectly, there cannot be room for tardiness." "Yes sir." The system in this place prioritises perfection. In order for the annual games to commence, you cannot afford to make any mistakes. Neglecting one small, simple thing can end everything in a disaster. That's why you always make sure to do everything perfectly, to impress The Front Man. To gain praise from the Front Man. To…

Crash!

Ironically, the platter of food fell straight on the ground.

This led to a brief moment of silence. You would expect yourself to apologise instantly for causing this disturbance while immediately rushing to action to help, like how you usually react when you do something wrong. But this time, you were too stunned to move. How could you cause this mess?

Your gaze stayed on the ground, looking at the mess you have caused. As you look up, your eyes instantly lock with the dark eyes through the Front Man's mask, unaware that he had been staring at you this whole time.

"I-" "Enough," he sternly said. "Come in here." You were guided inside the Front Man's room. This was the first time you ever placed a foot on the other side of his door, you know you have made a severe mistake.

"Sit down," he gestured as he spoke, pointing at his bed.

Slowly, you walk towards his bed and sit down. You look up as he reaches for your chin, gently lifting your mask. Your face felt the coldness of the air in the room while your cheeks burnt with red. When he completely took your mask off, his finger traced your lips, making you feel the warmth of them.

"Looks like I have to do something about your reckless behaviour today."

The Front Man pulls out a pair of handcuffs as he pushes you up to the top of his bed, making you lie down. He grabs both of your hands and cuffs them together with the frame of his bed.

He looked at your face as he tried to slip his hand under your top. You give him a slight nod of approval, and he continues to touch you like his property. That's what you were after all, a maid that left their individuality to cater to the Front Man's desires. He exposes your torso to see you better, feeling your skin. His hand gropes your chest while his fingers pinched your nipples. Your inability to do anything about him playing with you made you realise how truly helpless you were in this situation.

After having fun with toying you, he unwraps your clothes. Now you had nothing except your undergarments on… well not for long. Before you knew it, he was already sliding them off while maintaining eye contact through his mask, making sure you weren't uncomfortable. You watch as he shuffles down, lifting up the bottom of his mask to align his open mouth between your thighs after swiftly spreading your legs. Watching him position himself made you feel your heartbeat ring in your ears as you were drowned with anticipation.

At the first contact, your neck immediately flings back as a reflex. His soft yet wet tongue touched the surface of your private regions. This sudden feeling sent a shockwave internally, completely blurring your thoughts to focus on one feeling: pleasure.

His tongue poked inside your hole which made you feel all sorts of emotions. He made sure to take his time before inserting his tongue in again, allowing you to embrace every feeling while he savoured every taste. He gradually got deeper and more intense, pressing especially hard on the parts that react the most passionately to the sensitivity As you tried to recollect your breaths, his hands brushed your skin, squeezing the more vulgar parts of your body. The Front Man took complete control over you.

The intense feeling made you want to release a loud moan that you had kept suppressed in your throat. You should be the one in charge of what your own body does, right? Or so you thought. The Front Man proved to you who was really in charge; his tongue dug deeper than you ever imagined it to be, squirming around all the edges. The motion of his tongue increased pace as he did all sorts of things with it: motioning it in and out, spiralling it around. You wanted to cup your mouth with your hands. It was all too much, you had to let out your cries.

This is where you completely lost it. The sensual feeling of being eaten out had made you completely lose any power you had over yourself. Your body and your mind completely submitted to the Front Man himself. No thoughts in your head anymore, just the need to feel more pleasure.

The moans and whines from your mouth only made the Front Man get much more aggressive. He pushed you to your edge until you felt yourself reach a certain point. You couldn't keep up anymore, he was doing so well.

With one last moan, you climax onto the Front Man's mask. Your body shook from the impact as your world turned all bright and serene. How disrespectful, you thought after realising what you had done. You should have at least warned him, but you were unprepared. The Front Man looks up at you and sits up, taking off his tainted mask.

"Looks like you made another mess to clean up."

#squid game #frontman #hwang in ho #hwang inho #squidgame #front man x reader #the front man #frontman x reader #the front man x reader #hwang in ho x reader #front man smut #front man #frontman squidgame #squid game smut #squid game x reader #squid game front man

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autumn816 · 14 days

Note

can i send a mix of 3 instead😏 soulmate au + awful first meeting + green-eyed epiphany

This wasn't probably what you were expecting from the prompt but we move. I did an actual scene for soulmate + awful first meeting but the green-eyed epiphany is written as a point. Enjoy 2.1k of this :)

—

“Remember, don’t say anything, don’t hear anything. You do your work and that’s it.”

George sighs. “I know, Alex. Just like I knew the last hundred times you told me.”

“Sorry,” Alex says. “I’m nervous. It’s a big day.”

“What is it, exactly?”

“It’s a Royalstrial. The prince doesn’t have a soulmate so the daughters of the elite Silver families, the High Houses, who don’t have a soulmate either or used to have one but do not anymore present themselves to the prince to be chosen as the next queen. The last time it happened was long before we were born. It was when Queen Luna was chosen.”

George scoffs. “‘Present themselves,’ really?”

Alex lifts his hands in surrender. “That’s what I was told but yeah, it doesn’t sound too good.”

“It’s bullshit.”

“I know. It’s the ways of the Silvers. What can we do?”

The rest of their journey is quiet. It’s George’s first day of work, too, at the palace. Alex had pulled some strings with the leader of his division and got him a job. Nothing George can do will ever show just how grateful he is to Alex.

George is amazed when he sees the palace, made of limestone and marble, for the first time. Alex has to rush him in so they have enough time to change into a red uniform before going to his, their, division. The leader, Aleera, as she likes to be called, speaks for ten minutes on etiquette and formality. Once she is done, a tray of an item is handed to everyone and all the workers are paraded to the Hall.

George walks behind Alex, carefully holding onto his tray of glass cups. The wooden door appears ahead, carved with intricate designs. A guard opens it to let the line of workers walk through.

The first thing George notices is the big chandelier hanging from the roof in the middle. That’s the thing that provides most of the light but there are lantern poles on the perimeter of the room. Round tables and velvet chairs are spaced evenly. On the opposite side is the royal area. Three seats, each one made of stone, lined on the stairs-led platform. The King is sitting in the middle, the Queen on his right and the Prince on his left.

He is so lost in his surroundings that he doesn’t notice a Sentinel until it’s too late. George holds his breath as the cups shake. A hand rests under his own hand while the other curves around the edge of the tray, steadying it.

Heat runs through his veins. George barely refrains from the gasp that wants to force itself out. It’s a weird feeling. He has never felt it, even in the warmest summers. His body has always been cold. Ice around his bones, George always joked. It feels like water now.

George gazes at the person to check if they feel it too. He stills when he notices who it is. It’s just his fate that he bumped into Sir Lewis Hamilton, the highest Sentinel. The most powerful Burner.

Lewis seems to have the complete opposite. He looks like a chill ran through his veins, his body shivering as if he just went through the coldest winters.

“I would like to apologise on his behalf, sir.”

Alex’s voice pulls him out of his trance.

“It’s his first day.”

Lewis’ eyes flick towards Alex. “It’s alright.” The beautiful brown eyes are on him again. “But you ought to be more careful.”

George shivers at the deep voice. He has heard it before but it’s a different experience to hear it when the Silver is a few inches away from him.

“I am so sorry,” George stutters. “I wasn’t looking. My sincerest apologies. I’ll be–”

“Sir.” A Sentinel comes up behind Lewis, interrupting the sad excuse that is George’s apology. “Prince Kvlyan is requesting you.”

Lewis nods, his eyes still on George, an unreadable expression on his face. “Let’s go.” He turns around and walks away, a final glance thrown towards George before he disappears into the crowd.

“Seriously?”

George startles. He forgot that Alex was here.

“You need to be careful.” Alex whispers angrily. “They’ll have your head for the smallest mistakes, George.”

“I know, I know. I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

Alex shakes his head. “Also, what the fuck was that?”

“Nothing,” George lies. Well, not really a lie. He just doesn’t know what that was.

“He is the highest in the army ranks.” Alex reminds him as if he forgot. “He is out of bounds, George.”

George rolls his eyes. “Calm down. I’m not doing anything with him.”

He and Alex stick close for most of the time they are working. He doesn’t even notice how quickly the time passes. The servants scarce in the rooms, in case a family requires them.

The Royalstrial is about to begin. The air pulses with tension and sensation.

——

It’s the fifth entrance that makes George uneasy. He had watched in awe as the daughters of each of the four Houses showed their abilities. It was wonderful but now it’s anything but.

George strokes his thumb over the number 64 on his wrist. A habit to calm himself down, knowing that his soulmate is somewhere out there. He still has yet to meet them. He wonders when he will. He is already 23.

“Brielle, of House Williams,” yells the announcer.

Brielle rises from where she is sitting, dressed in all black leather decorated with iron. All of her family members were on their feet, clapping and cheering. Even the king and queen show interest.

The iron studs on her jacket move, floating in the air before spiralling around her.

She controls metal. George understands why he is uneasy. Since his accident with knives at the age of five, he has hated every metal.

But that’s not all. Brielle doesn’t seem to be anywhere close to being done. Every metal in the room groans, coming to life.

George digs his nails into his palms, his feet tapping on the floor.

Metal pipes splinter from the floor and burst through the walls, flying up to Brielle. She twists them, making the sound of a crunch as they bend under her command. It’s when a pipe hits George on the head that he snaps.

A chill explodes out of him. There’s a layer of frost over his skin—something so clear, so delicate. He feels it—he feels the coldness running through his body. It’s the most alive he has ever been in his entire life.

Reality sinks in as murmurs and gasps echo. Brielle is staring at him already, her jaw clenched and her eyes wide.

“Sorry,” George says, not understanding everything himself. “I–”

Brielle accepts his apology by pointing the metal blades at him and launching.

George flings his hand out, a reaction to wanting to protect himself. Awaiting the pain of half a dozen blades piercing through his palms. Instead, another chill flows through each of his veins, consuming him.

Ice blasts out of his hands and shapes around the blades. It drops to the floor, the ice breaking and the blades clattering.

The temperature changes. Cold. Something George has always thrived in.

His mouth falls open as he stares at his hands and wonders where that came from. He looks up to see all eyes on him—every Silver, every Red. Hundreds of shocked faces and some fearful ones too. It’s Lewis that George finds himself stuck on for some reason.

“Sentinels.”

The king’s voice is sharp. The Sentinels line up at the base of the platform, waiting for another order.

As a self-taught thief who has been in a lot of trouble, George knows when it’s time to run. Before the king can speak another word, George bolts, squeezing between the table and the wall.

“Seize him!”

He hears the footsteps of the Sentinels behind him but he doesn’t dare looking back. Nothing good comes from it. A flame comes in front of him.

The room fills with chaos as the other Silvers try to get out of the way and rush out of the room. He takes that to his advantage. He pivots on his feet, only to see some of the Sentinels feet away.

George raises his hands, scared. A long sheet of ice blows out, falling over the Sentinels and breaking off.

Behind them, he catches Lewis with one hand towards him—George now knows where the flame came from—and the other hand pointing to his left.

George looks the same way to see Alex standing there.

“Alex!” George panics, taking off towards his best mate. Alex isn’t too far away to not hear him. “Run.”

The Sentinels close the distance between them and Alex with every second.

George brings his hands forth. Come on, come on, come on. Do something. I need you to do something right now.

Spikes of ice rise from the floor between Alex and the Sentinels.

“Ah!” A Sentinel screams as the icicle pierces through his foot and he drops to the floor. The others catch themselves and barely miss suffering the same fate.

“Go!”

Alex finally breaks out of his shock and starts running towards him. “George!”

“No, Alex. Get out of here!”

His best mate doesn’t listen until gunfire explodes over his head and Alex is forced to escape through the door.

Please, not him. Not him, not him, not him, George chants in his mind.

George almost makes it to the door when two Sentinels step in front of him. George drops to his knees on the smooth floor, sliding himself between the two. He is quick to jump on his feet and run again, making it out of the room as well.

He takes a left since he knows the stairs are that way. His heartbeat races. He is scared for Alex more than himself. Please be okay. Please be okay.

George skids to a stop, slamming into Lewis as he appears out of nowhere.

“Stop running away.” Lewis presses him against the wall, caging him in.

George flattens his palms against Lewis’ chest to shove him away but the Silver captures his hands and presses them on each side of his head. Something must have thrown him off because Lewis’ eyes widened. His grip loosens just enough for George to push him away and escape once again.

His hands automatically lift up—another blast of ice. Lewis composes himself and shields himself with his fire.

George expects the fire to melt the ice. Instead, the fire cracks the ice, exploding it. The small pieces rain over them and the upcoming Sentinels, their armour protecting them. George doesn’t have the same protection but he doesn’t need it because the hail moulds itself into his skin without any pain.

Another shot of fire heads his way. He accidentally conjures up a wall of ice. It takes the heat of the fire and vaporises. The water hisses as it splashes. George jumps away, barely escaping being burned.

“George.”

Alex’s voice reaches his ears. A Sentinel holds his best mate by his neck. His face bloodied. Every fight in George drains.

“Alex.” He takes a step when fire circles around him. Ice hovers over George’s hand.

At the same instant, Lewis forms a ball of fire in his hand. “Stand down or I will light this boy on fire in front of you.”

“No!” George shouts. “Don’t hurt him.”

“Then I suggest you stand down.”

George looks at Alex, fear surrounding his best mate in a way he has never before.

Alex tries to put on a brave face for George. “Don’t.”

The Sentinel tightens his arm around Alex’s neck. Alex chokes.

“Stop!” The ice deforms. George lowers his hands, dropping his arms to his side.

Lewis looks over his shoulders, giving a nod. The guard loosens his hold.

The fire increases in height, almost reaching up to George’s waist. He stares as Lewis walks closer to him, the ring parting to let him pass by before closing again.

It turns from a deep red to an orange-yellow. George’s normally cold skin warms up to a point where, he considers, it will melt right off his bones. Smoke surrounds them, strong and black. George coughs, his vision spinning.

“Sebastian.”

George’s eyes fleet to a new man standing behind Lewis. The water in his eyes must be playing tricks on him because he thinks he sees an ‘I’m sorry’ being mouthed. His eyelids suddenly grow heavier. He staggers forward into Lewis, his hands clutching around the Silver’s shoulders.

“George!” Alex exclaims.

Arms wrap behind his knees and shoulders before hoisting him up. It’s the last thing George feels.

—

This was the original idea but I had to change things for this prompt.

The society is divided by blood- red or silver. Reds are considered the commoners, the ones that are inferior and working for Silvers. Silvers are basically considered elite because of their power abilities. There are common Silvers and then royal Silvers.

There are also Newbloods. They are the ones with red blood but powers like Silvers. Newbloods are more powerful than Silvers, having either unique abilities or stronger versions of their Silver counterparts. And Newbloods can create and manipulate powers while Silvers can only manipulate. They are very rare and seen as a threat.

Both Lewis and George are Newblood.

Soulmates: Reds have Reds soulmates, Silvers have Silvers, Newbloods have Newbloods. Silvers soulmates will have the same powers but Newbloods soulmates have different powers hence gewis with fire and ice powers. There is also a matched number which was 64 for gewis. Lewis figures out George is his soulmate when he sees the number on his wrist.

George joins a rebellious group that wants an equality between Reds and Silvers. Lewis is already part of that group so they work together.

Green-eyed epiphany: This is when they are working together. George doesn’t know Lewis is his soulmate. He is in love with Lewis but he hasn’t realised yet. He was fine being just friends with Lewis until he saw how close the older man was getting with Jenson. He realises he is utterly jealous because he is in love when he sees Jenson walk out of Lewis’ room one morning.

—

Mash-up trope

#the blood division society concept is very red queen inspired #just to be on the safe side: a fighting scene is involved #thank you for sending <3 #ask games #cherie🌞

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cainluvr69 · 9 months

Text

Literally Just The Cain Parts Of Arc 2 Chapter 20 (chapters 1 and 2)

Owen: ……

Cain: Owen…

Owen turned his face away, without even a smirk on his lips. I glared at him. I didn't think I could do anything else. I couldn't see what expression Arthur was making right now. It's not as if I couldn't see him because of my injury from the [Great Calamity]. But I felt so guilty, the kind of guilt that can't be properly formed into words, that I couldn't bear to look at him. That was when I realized something. I was trying to come up with some sort of excuse for all of this. What the hell am I doing?

Arthur: It's alright. I have an escort. Ah, right there.

Arthur glanced over towards me. Owen was still not looking at me, his arms crossed--I'd never seen him act like this before. And then, I saw him sneak a glance at me. I just kept glaring at him full force. I'd never wanted Arthur to see me like this. I hated Owen as much as I hated myself. But for just a moment, I saw something I couldn't put a name to flickering in his eyes. That just made me feel even more guilty, and I didn't know why. It was as if…I was seeing the little Owen because of how messed up things had gotten. But soon enough, he met my glare with his own equally sharp one. Like a beast.

Cain: (If he's making that kind of face, he has to be the real one.)

Arthur: Alright, thank you. Owen. Could you come here too, please?

Arthur took one of Owen's arms and together, they came over to me. I had no idea what to do. Owen didn't, either. All I could do was steel myself and look up at Arthur. He…wasn't looking at me with contempt, or even disappointment. He was in his blue training outfit, and his clear blue eyes were sparkling. Seeing him like that…I felt my face turn grim, and I started to yell at him.

Cain: Artie, what are you thinking? Only high ranking military officers are allowed in here! Grunts like you should know their place!

I lightly knocked Arthur away and then stuck my finger towards his chest. The worst thing that could happen here is anyone else here finding out who Arthur really was. I was just trying to get him out of here safely. He looked startled at first, but on realizing what was going on, decided to match my pace.

Arthur: My sincerest apologies. However…

Owen: You don't need to apologize, Artie. Just sit down right there. Next to Sir Knight.

Owen roughly forced Arthur down next to me. The women and officers I'd been talking with quickly moved out of his way. It was me, Arthur, Owen, plus the women by me and Owen. That was our current lineup.

Woman: Have a glass. One for you, too.

Owen and I were handed glasses while we glared at each other over Arthur's head. I asked him something, keeping my voice low.

Cain: What are you trying to pull? This is a dirty prank.

Owen: Hmph. The only one playing around here is you. If you're really so sure of yourself, then surely you can keep doing the same in front of Sir Prince?

Woman: Prince?

Owen's slip of the tongue stabbed a bit of fear into me, but he simply crossed his legs and smiled at the lady next to him.

Owen: I'm talking about myself. I'm the prince of the Cerberus Kingdom. And I'll bite your throat out.

Owen had meant it as a threat, but because of the alcohol, the woman took it as a joke. She blushed, and then tilted back her head and presented her neck.

Woman: Ooh, how scary. But I don't mind if you want to eat me right up.

Owen: Are you stupid? You'd get along great with Sir Knight. I've fed him to my dogs before, too.

Cain: Come on…

Right as I was about to argue, Arthur suddenly moved to look at me. He took up my whole field of vision, the only thing I could see.

Arthur: I need to talk to you. Err, rather, I have something I'd like to speak with you about, Sir Cain.

Cain: What's up, Artie? Is it something so important you had to talk to me here? It's already late. Kids should be in bed by now.

Arthur: Kids?

Arthur raised one eyebrow. I think…I made him a little mad.

Arthur: It's an important conversation regarding your honor, Sir Cain. You are a very devoted person, but should you have betrayed yourself to that end…

I saw a pale finger extend past Arthur's cheek, and then Owen grabbed Arthur's face and forcibly turned his head. He murmured something into Arthur's ear. They glanced at me during their quiet conversation, leaving me completely baffled by their newfound…familiarity. This couldn't be anything good. I suddenly felt restless.

Arthur: …Understood.

While I was being set adrift in a sea of confusion, Arthur simply nodded, and moved away from Owen. This time he got closer to me, putting his arm over the back of the sofa. Arthur's lips approached my ear. His hair and skin smelled of expensive perfume, the kind that no amount of effort could hide. The idea of having a one on one talk with him was making me just a little bit nervous. Over Arthur's shoulder, I could see Owen. Arthur whispered into my ear.

Arthur: …Please don't do anything that would deprive you of your knightly spirit.

I didn't know how much he'd heard from Owen, but the sincere and earnest tone in his voice made my chest ache. As Arthur pulled away from me, I whispered something back.

Cain: …Don't misunderstand. I'm trying to win over the Western military to get information on Nicholas. It's dangerous for you to be here. You should leave immediately. Oz and Riquet should still be…

I glanced up, and my words trailed off on their own. There were heavy footsteps making their way towards us. They were even and composed, like those of higher ranked or commissioned officers. The lively atmosphere around us had become tense. Maybe the general they'd talked about earlier, General Barnett, was here.

Gill: ……

If it was the Western general, it was entirely probable that he knew what Central Country's crown prince looked like.

Cain: (I can't even imagine how things will blow up if the prince of an unfriendly neighboring country is found in a military club.)

I immediately pulled Arthur closer to me, my hand on his back.

Arthur: …Wha--?!

Cain: What's wrong? Are you not feeling well? You must've drank too much. We should get you on your way quick. Owen!

Owen: Excuse me?

Cain: Take care of Artie for me. Or at least take him to the inn.

Owen narrowed his eyes at me.

Owen: And why do I have to do what you tell me to, Sir Knight?

Arthur also looked up at me, frowning a bit.

Arthur: I am still not done talking with you.

I wasn't listening to either of them. I was busy worrying about if General Barnett was here, and I picked up the book I'd dropped earlier with one hand. This was a popular novel the general liked. I'd been reading it aloud to try and catch his attention. That was the plan, at least.

Cain: Sorry, but please, I need you both to leave. I need to read this book.

Arthur: Right now?

Owen: Why?

Cain: Because the general likes it. He'll be excited if we like the same things, right?

Arthur: Do you like it, Cain?

Cain: Well, I haven't read it yet…

Arthur: He won't be happy if you're only pretending. When he realizes you're lying, he'll only be sad about it.

Arthur's words reminded me of my mom, and my heart clenched in my chest. I shook my head, a bitter feeling at the back of my throat. I glanced around, and then murmured something to him.

Cain: …You and Oz are no good at telling lies. That's why this is something I have to do. I'm doing what I do best.

Arthur: Trust isn't something so easily won. Trust balanced on top of lies will come crashing down when it's most important. If trust is lost on the battlefield, then who can you entrust your life to?

I felt like he'd just punched me in the face. Exactly like Arthur had said, morale dropped under leadership that couldn't be trusted. Everyone put their life on the line for their pride and sense of justice at some point. And if you weren't sincere about it, all you'd get is corrupted authority and false justice. That's why you can't just start running forward. Arthur's eyes held the same noble look I'd seen in the portraits of previous kings in Granvelle Castle.

Arthur: Cain, you are my knight. You don't need to concoct any devious plots.

My heart was wavering in my chest. I wanted to live up to Arthur's pure, unsullied feelings. But, I think someone who betrays those feelings would serve him better. Nicholas and the white-haired woman. The sunken Adams Island expedition. Should I just give up and try a different method of attack? My honor didn't matter. What even is true devotion? What would Leno or Shino do if they were in my place?

✦✧☾✧✦

I stole a glance at Owen. He was frowning, and then he sighed as if to say "Well, there's no helping it." He reached over Arthur and put his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me closer. And then, he whispered something in my ear. Owen's voice was oddly shrill, as if he was embarrassed about something.

Owen: Hey… If it's the only way, then. I'll kill the Western general for you.

My eyes widened. Owen frowned, making a weird face, like he was trying to hide his embarrassment. He was messing with his bangs like he was annoyed, but he was eyeing me with a certain sense of pride.

Owen: But only for tonight, okay?

My blood drained out of my face and I shook my head.

Cain: Don't even think about doing something like that. It'd become a massive diplomatic issue.

Owen: …Hah?

Pretty sure Owen thought that he was offering to do a good deed, which was why he was so embarrassed about it, but it was still undeniably an offer of assassination. A Northern wizard killing the Western army's general in front of Central's prince was just a recipe for disaster.

Cain: You don't need to come up with any plots, just take Arthur and…

Owen: Plots? I'm saying I'll help you, and you say I'm plotting?

Cain: I'm grateful for the offer, but right now, your talents aren't really what I need here.

Owen's trunk appeared out of nowhere. I looked up at the ceiling, and then tried again.

Cain: I said not right now, right?

Owen: I'm going to turn you to stone. I don't take orders from anyone.

Woman: D-didn't he just pull that trunk from nowhere… Was that…magic?

Owen smiled threateningly at the pale woman.

Owen: That's right. Didn't I tell you? I'll bite your throat out.

Arthur: Could you kindly stop, Owen?

Woman: …I--I'm not scared! I'm not scared of wizards. There are so many officers from the Magical Weaponry Division here. Everyone, please…!

Cain: Let's calm down! Owen, put your trunk away! Absolutely do not open it!

Owen: …Don't order me around!

Arthur: We're not giving you orders. Neither Cain nor I are trying to subjugate you, Owen of the North.

Arthur placed his hand on Owen's arm, and then he looked up at me.

Arthur: This goes for you too, Cain. My desires are not meant to be chains. They shouldn't keep you from listening to your heart.

Those painful words felt so good. My heart. My thoughts and feelings could change everything. And how easily mine had been changed. What could I do with these feelings?

Gill: And what is going on here?

Owen and I stood ready at the same time. We didn't even have to say anything. Both of us were prepared to guard Arthur. I couldn't see who had spoken. But I could tell enough from the air around them. This was General Barnett. The cheery, drunken sense of relaxation in the club had changed. Not in a bad way. There wasn't any fear shooting up my spine. But all the soldiers in the room remembered something now that they stood before him. All he had to do was stand in the same room as them, and the Western army's soldier remembered their pride. Their spirit. I hadn't even seen his face, and General Barnett had already overwhelmed us. If he was this charismatic on a normal day, I wondered how far his leadership would take him on the battlefield. Speaking as a soldier from the neighboring country? I wasn't looking forward to seeing it.

Cain: …My apologies for disturbing you. I am Cain, a former knight of Central Country.

I smiled amiably and held my hand out to him. I could only wonder if he'd accept it. But I only had to worry for a couple seconds. A large hand grasped mine moments later. The same moment, a tall, capable-looking young man appeared in front of me. He had the sociable, reliable air of someone you could call an ideal commanding officer.

Gill: Gill Barnett, at your service. Would those be your friends?

Still feeling the strain, I introduced the two of them.

Cain: My subordinates. Artie and Wen.

Owen: You're a wizard, aren't you.

Owen announced that right to General Barnett's face. It caught me off guard for a moment, but I knew why he'd felt that, so I explained it to him.

Cain: Don't be rude, Wen. Watch your mouth. This is the man who leads the Magical Weaponry Division. Using that many mana stones can make someone have the same presence as a wizard.

Owen: Mana stones…? …Just how many would you have to use to feel like that.

Owen smiled a thin smile at him, the expression dripping with malice and hatred. But General Barnett was unmoved. His eyes moved to Arthur, and he gestured for him to sit down.

Gill: Please, sit.

Arthur: Thank you, sir.

Although Arthur took a seat, General Barnett did not. Instead, he sat down next to me, taking the place of a woman who had gracefully offered up her seat. His leisurely manner was also a smart one. And it wasn't like he was trying to intimidate or overpower us. It looked like he was being considerate of us.

Gill: You said you were a former Central soldier, didn't you?

Cain: Yes.

The general smiled at me, friendly-like.

Gill: As the general of Western Country, I could call myself its greatest hero, but surely that means little to a Central knight. From Central's oldest knight to its youngest trainee, each one is fearlessly brave. Now that's true glory. They don't get ahead of themselves when victory's in sight, and that's how the names of so many heroes have been engraved in their history. And you are one of them. It's a pleasure to meet you.

Cain: Ah… Thank you very much. I'm undeserving of such praise.

I knew it was nothing more than flattery, but my chest was still full of emotion. Even the general of another country saw the same splendor in the Central knights that I'd admired ever since I was little. Arthur's eyes also glowed with the praise.

Gill: And that is?

The general gestured towards the book next to me. Seems like the story about him liking this series was true. Finally, I could work on fulfilling my intended objective here. I picked up the book with vigor.

Cain: A book from a series I like. I'd heard that you enjoyed it as well. I was thinking of reading some aloud, if you'd be fine with that.

The general smiled at me, and I looked over my shoulder towards Owen.

Cain: Wen. Cover Artie's ears for me, would you?

Owen: What? Why?

Cain: I've got a feeling there's going to be some events that children shouldn't be listening to.

Arthur: You keep calling me a child, but I am no longer… I am not a child, Sir Cain.

Owen: I'll let him listen. Give us a tale so terrifying it gives Artie nightmares.

Arthur: No matter how terrifying a story it is, it won't keep me awake or give me nightmares. Because I am not a child.

Cain: It's not a scary story. Well, it shouldn't be…

I remembered the bit I'd read just before as getting a bit…spicy. I glanced over at the general. As if the friendly air he'd had earlier had been nothing but a lie, he was now completely filled with bloodlust.

Cain: Is… Is something wrong, sir…?

His eyes met mine and slowly, slowly his head turned to join them.

Gill: That book is a stellar adaptation… Don't speak of it as if it's some vulgar, tawdry product.

Cain: Ah… Um…

Gill: The play it is based on is an action/adventure coming-of-age story centered around the friendship of a landed noble caught up in an inheritance dispute and one of her maids. In any case.

Cain: Yes.

Gill: The two protagonists fall in love with a traveling merchant, and both compete for his affection in further more impossible ways. You said you liked it, didn't you?

Cain: Uh, yes.

Gill: To be frank, I am absolutely appalled. No further conversation is required.

Cain: W--wait! My apologies. Let me be honest. I'm…

Gill: The Sage's wizard, Cain Knightley. And that would be another Sage's wizard, the Northern wizard Owen. And this gentleman would be… No, enough with names.

The general had been looking at Arthur when he said that. Arthur, however, took a deep breath and said his next words very pointedly.

Arthur: Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am the prince of Central Country, Arthur Granvelle. My apologies for being misleading with my identity, General Barnett.

The general's eyes widened at such a forthwith introduction. For the first time in this conversation, he was shocked. After carefully observing his surroundings, he simply shrugged his shoulders.

Gill: …My sincerest apologies. I had not heard you would be visiting. Had I been aware, I would have knelt before you. To do so now would be, well, conspicuous.

Arthur: Let me apologize as well. I was distracted.

The general smiled at Arthur's immediate apology. He leaned forward, lowering his voice.

Gill: …Please listen without showing surprise. Important citizens of my country have of late been collapsing with sudden illness. Their health worsens very quickly, and as it stands, it is doubtful they can even make it through the night. Were it to be known that a foreign dignitary is visiting me during this plague, it would draw suspicion. Please, leave as soon as you are able.

Arthur: Western country's dignitaries…

Gill: I cannot speak further than this. You understand, yes?

Arthur: Yes… Thank you. However, may I ask one thing?

Gill: You may.

Arthur: Why did you warn me?

Gill: I'd rather not cause problems for myself by complicating things with easily-rectified matters.

The general smiled calmly. His manner was arrogant, but Arthur's eyes were happy all the same.

Gill: You are young, and there is still hope in your heart. Though we may live in a broken world, I keep faith that it shall one day be beautifully reborn. I would rather do you a favor of something more valuable than saying your name too loudly and bringing both of our nations trouble.

Arthur: My thanks, General Barnett.

Gill: Please, just call me Gill. Now, I would not say this is advice, per se… If you have no urgent plans, I would suggest staying in the City of Wealth for the moment.

Cain: Why?

Gill: A coronation ceremony shall be held on a day very soon from now. I believe the Sage's wizards were also given an invitation.

Those words alone told me everything I needed to know about the state of the West's dignitaries, and which among them had fallen ill. Western Country was a monarchy, after all. It seemed we'd arrived at a very delicate time.

Gill: Well then, I shall take my leave. May there be good company on your way home.

With a bow, the general began to walk away from us. I was after him in a flash. He was a fair sort of person. I needed to do something to get rid of the guilt of lying to him.

Cain: Hold on.

Gill: What?

Cain: …Sorry for lying to you. Err, my sincerest apologies, I mean.

His shoulders shook with laughter. At least the look on his face meant I hadn't insulted him.

Gill: What a very Central thing of you to say. No, it was quite fine. Why were you trying to gain my favor?

Cain: Huh?

Gill: You pretended to have read a book you'd never touched for the sake of my favor, to the point of troubling your comrades.

Cain: That's, well… I really do apologize for that. I mean it from the bottom of my heart.

Gill: It certainly seems that way. I've yet to meet someone from Central who enjoyed deceit. Nicholas was the same way.

My eyes widened the moment I heard Nicholas's name.

Cain: You remember Nicholas?

Gill: Of course I do. He was once a hero who stood as Central's head of knights. It was quite exhausting having such a great man foisted onto me as one of my subordinates.

After that bit of complaint, the general smiled at me.

Gill: I heard a bit of you from him. He called you the kind of genius that only comes around once every thousand years. Nicholas had been quite proud whenever your name was brought up. It was clear that he loved Central Country and Central's knights from the bottom of his heart. What happened to him was very unfortunate.

The general put his hand on my shoulder. The sudden rush of emotion in my chest was so strong, I could feel my breathing waver. Even if he had fallen as something evil, Nicholas had once been someone I admired. Hearing words of praise for him made my chest tight. Even though I'd tried to convince myself there was no other choice, I'd always hated how things had turned out. If the reason that the gallant knight I admired had become a villain was because I'd cornered him, then didn't that make me the evil one? The general shook his head, as if to reject the self-hatred I'd never voiced aloud.

Gill: My only complaint is that you led the knights after someone like Nicholas had been driven out. You're not the kind of person who would be here to try and gather information. The right person for the right place, after all. Though it's true Western Country tends to discriminate towards wizards, but we are still generous enough to welcome the philosopher Hart to the royal palace with open arms. Those from Central are less sociable. The generosity seen when the King of Knights Alec established that country alongside wizards is nowhere to be seen. The current system in place only shames that sincere warrior. You don't need to look at me like that. If you're going to turn your sword on anything, turn it on the system.

This foreign general's words were like a guiding light that had saved me. Perhaps they were simply honeyed words to win me over. But I wanted to think they were true.

Cain: Thank you very much, sir.

Gill: Even wicked customs can be changed that way. Should your revolution fail and you go into exile, I would gladly welcome you to our country.

Cain: I'm not planning on abandoning my country. I am a Central knight.

The general smiled warmly at me.

Gill: I thought that's what you'd say.

Cain: General Barnett. Did anything strange happen to Nicholas during his time in this country?

Gill: Why do you ask?

Cain: I heard that he headed an expedition to the sunken Adams Island. He wasn't exactly a man who was fond of the sea. But if he left anything behind that might tell me what his goal was, then…

Gill: I see. A very Central expression of camaraderie. I'm fond of Central's knights because you're all like characters in a book. Now then, regarding Nicholas… Although he was one for etiquette, there were times when he crossed the line when it came to me. I imagine he couldn't forgive himself for it.

Cain: I see…

Gill: Oh, but there is one thing I recall. He once asked me if I was an avid reader. Specifically, he asked if there were any accounts handed down through Western legend of an account of a path through Hell.

Cain: A path through Hell…?

Gill: Yes. I'd never heard of something like it. What about in Central?

Cain: This is the first time I'm hearing of anything like it, too.

Gill: I see. I apologize, but that's as much as I can offer.

✦✧☾✧✦

Arthur: A path through Hell… I've never heard of it, either. What about you, Owen?

Owen: Who knows.

Arthur: Perhaps you keep it within that trunk of yours?

Owen: Sure. Want to take a peek, Sir Prince?

Cain: Knock it off, Owen.

Owen: Hmph. So you failed to become a villain, Sir Knight. Well, it's just a matter of time. I'm looking forward to seeing it happen.

Cain: …tsk, he's gone… God, he's so…

Arthur: Owen was worried about you, Cain.

Cain: As if.

Arthur: That was why he came to me. …Am I wrong?

Cain: You're wrong. Maybe he's not as awful as I thought, but… He's still awful. Don't let him fool you.

Arthur: You think so…?

Cain: …A path through Hell… Sigh… All that work, and that's the only clue we got.

Arthur: We did get to meet with the Western general, thanks to your infiltration. Thank you, Cain.

Cain: Arthur… No, I should be the one thanking you.

#.mhyktl #.main story tl #cain knightley #i hate translating gill i will die for anything #fair warning this is beefy

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