HATE THIS FUKER MORE THAN ANYONE IN MY WHOLE FUCKING LIFE FUCK HIM HOPE HE BURNS IN HELL. THIS LIL WEINER BRAT ASS MORON WITH NO SALARY SHOULD STARVE TILL TORTURE AND DEAD. HIS THROAT SHOULD BE PARCHED TILL IT EXPLODES OF THE HEATNESS AND DRYNESS. FUCK HIM.
Some special people: @bunny4kaiser @yayamrata @kai-xer @saesosaa @suckingsaesdihh @ohio-gyatt-mega-sigma-rizzler @thetwinkims @itoshiabi @flowerformeguru @violet-ness @gheartmplust @writtenpluviophile @maybeiknowu789 @yumyumcherryy @jxxbtx
HATE THIS FUKER MORE THAN ANYONE IN MY WHOLE FUCKING LIFE FUCK HIM HOPE HE BURNS IN HELL. THIS LIL WEINER BRAT ASS MORON WITH NO SALARY SHOULD STARVE TILL TORTURE AND DEAD. HIS THROAT SHOULD BE PARCHED TILL IT EXPLODES OF THE HEATNESS AND DRYNESS. FUCK HIM.
Some special people: @bunny4kaiser @yayamrata @kai-xer @saesosaa @suckingsaesdihh @ohio-gyatt-mega-sigma-rizzler @thetwinkims @itoshiabi @flowerformeguru @violet-ness @gheartmplust @writtenpluviophile @maybeiknowu789 @yumyumcherryy @jxxbtx
michael kaiser whose screentime increases astronomically after discovering pinterest for the first time.
tooth-rotting fluff, silly misunderstandings, technologically inept kaiser, kaiser being a cute little kitten for 2.2k words (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ).
There's something strange going on with Kaiser.
You can't exactly put a finger on it, on the leading cause behind his odd behaviour, but you're absolutely certain about it— that he's keeping some kind of dodgy secret from you.
For one, he's been waking up later and less groggier than usual.
Well, granted, he's always waking up late, but it's the latter that really spikes your interest. Normally, whenever the man woke up to red rimmed and sunken eyes, a gaunt complexion and bed hair that looked like it's been dragged through the jungle and back, he's never failed to be in a foul fucking mood.
And thus, the lack of it, of his bitchiness, was raising some questions…
But more than that, however, he's even been spending more time on the toilet!
Again, something that isn't new to you considering how he's always had a bad history with constipation, but still!
Isn't someone dealing with the discomfort of constipation supposed to at least throw a fit in their bout of frustration?!
But— but that hasn't been the case at all!
If anything, he's been so much calmer.
Calmer!
Him, Michael Kaiser, the man whose fury rivalled that of Zeus himself being calm?!
Outrageous, right?!
You just couldn't wrap your head around it no matter how hard you tried to.
What the hell is it that's been putting him in such a jolly good mood?
It surely wasn't your ass responsible for this, you haven't been doing anything different with him as far as you can remember, and if it wasn't you…
If it wasn't you, then, who was it…?
"…."
God, it almost feels like you're going insane, drawing vivid conclusions without consulting him first, but were you really to blame here?
The evidence was basically all there, staring at you right in the goddamn face!
How lately, he's always wearing his blue light glasses around the house and how he's constantly hogging the charger for himself, as if recurrently in front of a screen, perhaps, texting some random chick behind your back…!
Your baseless thoughts were practically confirmed as well, when you'd tried to take sneak a quick peek at his phone during one of his ridiculously long shitting sessions, only to find that he'd taken his phone with him to the bathroom.
To the bathroom!!
Sure, most people had their phone accompany them to cure their boredom while they took shit, but in your case, everything was starting to add up!
It was just so blatantly obvious, and you'd only be a foolish moron to deny it further, to deny what he was trying so desperately hard to hide from you.
"Hey." His voice, dry and relaxed, snaps you out of your spiralling thoughts, pulling you back to reality by the taut thread your sanity was clinging to. "I'll be back later, yeah?"
You don't grace him with a verbal response, barely guarding him with a stare of acknowledgement as he stands across from you by the apartment door, waiting for your usual farewells and wishes of safe returns.
"[Name]?"
Kaiser sounds uncertain as he addresses you, and you're not sure what spurs your destructive curiosity, whether it's that last bit of confirmation you need before confronting him, or some innate desperation that blooms after hearing the slight waver in his tone, but you seek it out for yourself.
"Can I— uh, can I check your phone..?"
The silence that ensues has your pulse falter and your heart flatline.
You're positively sure your nervous system's shutting down too, the dread from the sudden stillness entirely to blame for the way your stomach lurches to your congesting throat. There's even a tremble in your hands as you press them close to your side, hoping to contain the fear that overwhelms you.
If he refuses, then he's definitely hiding something… If he doesn't want me seeing his phone, then he's definitely—
"Sure."
"Huh?"
The noise of your confusion is almost comical as you raise your head with alarm, your earlier fright seemingly for nothing when the sight of his phone greets you teasingly.
"My phone?" He tilts his head jadedly, not at all bothered by what any normal person would be bothered by.
"…uh, thanks." You take it from him with mild hesitation, fingers briefly brushing against his warmer ones during the exchange.
What the hell? He just gave it to me? No questions asked…? No! He just wants me to think that way! This calculating bastard's probably deleted all the evidence!
You huff mockingly, guarding him with a glare of growing suspicion, something he doesn't pay attention to, not when he's too busy yawning away the fatigue from his lack of sleep doing God knows what at the heinous hour of dawn.
The phone almost feels like a ticking time bomb in your hands, and perhaps it is, considering how you were about to find some real sketchy shit on it. A moment passes as you calm your haywire nerves with quiet breaths, then, you're switching his phone on, gulping cautiously as the screen lit up with a… horribly pixelated image of a puddle?
Huh?
Your puzzlement barely lasts a second, not when the phone just unlocks by itself, without you having to input a code or anything into it.
"…."
This- this idiot doesn't have a password on his phone?!
"You… you don't have a password on your phone..?" The utter disbelief in your tone goes ignored by the athlete.
He only blinks at you owlishly, brow raising with genuine confusion. "Do I need one?"
"I mean," you exhale deeply, pinching the bridge of your nose with unbridled bewilderment, questioning how nobody's tried to steal his phone yet, "most people have one…"
"Oh," Kaiser hums deeply, like he's considering your words for a brief minute before shrugging them off carelessly. "It's not like there's anything important on it."
I'll see that for myself, alright!? Hmph! Only people with things to hide say stuff like that…
You glance at him dubiously, before your gaze falls back on his unlocked phone with beguiled intent, your brows furrowing in thought as you internally debated your options.
I'd like to see his messages… but maybe it's better if I just check his screen time instead..?
And you do just that, your fingers move with the expertise of a veteran, pulling up his settings app to check his screen time, a stat that greets you in its full glory.
Twelve- TWELVE FUCKING HOURS ON WEB BROWSER??? WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING ON IT FOR SO LONG???!!
Your eyes near bulge out of their sockets at the number, before you rub at them furiously, hoping the comical endeavour clears your vision of the bullshit you're hallucinating. But instead of it reducing to a more appropriate number like you'd quietly expected, the absurd double digits remain, large and mocking as they stare back at you with mirth.
"Oi- oi…!" Your finger trembles against yourself as you point to the screen accusingly, tapping on it frantically to get his attention. "Explain!"
"Oh." He offers no further explanation, only scratching his head in response, none the wiser to your skyrocketing concerns. "Uh, well, I found this website and can't seem to get off it."
"Website!?" You repeat, your mind flying a mile a minute as he nods noncommittally, a gesture that has dread pool in your stomach.
A website??? And he can't get off it?? Oh my God- don't tell me, it's—
"P-porn hub?!"
"Pinterest."
"Huh."
"What."
"…."
The silence is unbearably loud, and you nearly shit yourself when he guards you with a look of mild offence, clearly felling very insulted by your baseless accusation.
"What did you just say?" His brow arches as he guards you with disbelief, looking a minute away from decking the life out of you.
"….Haha! P-pinterest!" You try to collect yourself, hoping he drops the subject before you explode into a pile of mush from humiliation. "Pinterest, huh?"
"…yeah." Kaiser eventually gets the hint and lets the topic go, giving up on trying to figure out whatever bullshit of a misunderstanding you ended up conjuring with your vivid imagination — a trait he was rather fond of.
You can only grin with relief when he doesn't inquire further about your ridiculous thoughts, though the relief is only momentary, for the reminder of his screentime resurfaces, urging you to investigate further. "But what about your screentime?! Why the hell is it at twelve fucking hours?!"
"Well, they have lots of pretty pictures," he admits quietly, fiddling with the ends of his bangs as he tried explaining his reasoning behind that absurd screentime. "It takes me a while to decide which to have as my wallpaper."
"Wallpaper?" You perk up, that explained his odd wallpaper you couldn't help cringe at earlier, it was so badly grainy and blurry, you thought you'd end up suffering an aneurysm.
"Yeah, look." He says, taking the phone from you while keeping it in your line of sight as he pressed on the screen a couple of times to open the website.
"If I click on this pretty picture, I can screenshot it and have it as my wallpaper." He talks you through each step, following along with them as he presents to you the abomination of a pixilated wallpaper he foolishly thought was pretty. "Helps calm me down when I look at it after some idiot's pissed me off."
Kaiser throws you a smug grin, feeling prideful for finally being able to teach you something 'techy' when it was usually him being the technologically inept boomer. You have to resist the disrespectful urge to scoff in his face when he keeps glancing at you with a puppy-ish glint in his eyes, searching for you approval and compliments.
"That's not… sigh, that's not how you use pinterest." You nearly roll your eyes with distaste, snatching the phone away from him to show him how it's really done. "You have to download the app first."
"There's- there's an app…?" He looks distraught at your comment, complexion comically paling with horror as the earlier aura of cockiness surrounding him wilted in an instant at your bluntness.
"Yes, and you can just download the images while keeping its resolution instead of taking screenshots."
"Huh?" The guy doesn't follow, his spinning expression a telling sign of his growing confusion.
You can only sigh while shaking your head, it looked like he had a lot to learn, and given how he was already running late to practice, a few more minutes spent on teaching him how to use the software wouldn't hurt.
"Sit down," you fall to the ground with a huff, tapping the space beside you for him to follow along, something he does immediately with no complaints. "I'll teach you."
And that's exactly how your crash course on 'Beginners Tutorial For Using Pinterest Like a Pro, No Glue, No Borax' shortly began. You taught him how to navigate around the app, how to make boards and how to pin certain posts into those categorised boards, while also teaching him the correct way to download images instead of whatever abomination he thought was right.
"It looks prettier…" Kaiser admits reluctantly, eyes bright with awe as he admired the resolution of his new wallpaper, something he always struggled to achieve with his pathetic screenshots.
"Right?" It's your turn to be smug now as you guard him with a humoured grin, finding immense delight in his quiet joy.
"Yeah." He nods softly, the tufts of his hair bouncing along in agreement, a sight that has your heart clench.
You stare at him for a little while longer, quietly endeared by his boyish wonder, before pulling your own phone out and holding it up proudly in his line of sight. "But not as pretty as my wallpaper!"
"Hm?" Kaiser looks up with mild curiosity, pretty blue eyes landing on the way your screen lit up with an image of himself. "It's me…"
"Yep!" You cheer, before tapping on the screen relentlessly, the lockscreen changing to different candid pictures of him that you must've taken when he was too distracted to notice.
"…oh." He offers no further response, or rather, he's unable to even think of one, the flush on the tip of his nose a telling sign of his quaint shyness.
There's silence following your quiet show of affection, filled with warmth and tenderness, a moment that lasts for a short while, until it's later disturbed by Kaiser who finally gains his senses.
His gaze is fixed intently on his phone, tapping away at it with the concentration of a scholar and the speed of a grandma, before he shoves it right in your face with a prideful huff.
You squint, pulling back and gently taking the device from him to see what he desperately wanted to show you. It's his wallpaper, but instead of it being an image of the aesthetic puddle you helped him find earlier on pinterest, it was a selfie of the two of you. One you'd absentmindedly taken during one of your many trips to the library down the neighbourhood.
It was a horrible composition, zoomed in awkwardly on your face and blurry to boot, but… but it was sort of cute… if you were as blind as a bat and grew up around dis-formed behemoths.
"Mine's…" He starts off competitively, head turning away from you with growing embarrassment as his voice cracked ungainly, "…prettier."
"…."
Ah, to think this easily flustered guy was the same guy you'd thought as unfaithful… shame on me.
the thought of my angel listening to audio books as he scrolls on pinterest 🥹🥹
anyway i told two close friends that kaiser likes to have pretty wallpapers bc it helps calm him down, one of them said "omg he has a pic of ur face on it" 🥹🥹🥹✌️, and the other said he needs therapy 😡😡😡. now which of the two do you think has been subject to my kaiser rants for longer?
michael kaiser whose screentime increases astronomically after discovering pinterest for the first time.
tooth-rotting fluff, silly misunderstandings, technologically inept kaiser, kaiser being a cute little kitten for 2.2k words (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ).
There's something strange going on with Kaiser.
You can't exactly put a finger on it, on the leading cause behind his odd behaviour, but you're absolutely certain about it— that he's keeping some kind of dodgy secret from you.
For one, he's been waking up later and less groggier than usual.
Well, granted, he's always waking up late, but it's the latter that really spikes your interest. Normally, whenever the man woke up to red rimmed and sunken eyes, a gaunt complexion and bed hair that looked like it's been dragged through the jungle and back, he's never failed to be in a foul fucking mood.
And thus, the lack of it, of his bitchiness, was raising some questions…
But more than that, however, he's even been spending more time on the toilet!
Again, something that isn't new to you considering how he's always had a bad history with constipation, but still!
Isn't someone dealing with the discomfort of constipation supposed to at least throw a fit in their bout of frustration?!
But— but that hasn't been the case at all!
If anything, he's been so much calmer.
Calmer!
Him, Michael Kaiser, the man whose fury rivalled that of Zeus himself being calm?!
Outrageous, right?!
You just couldn't wrap your head around it no matter how hard you tried to.
What the hell is it that's been putting him in such a jolly good mood?
It surely wasn't your ass responsible for this, you haven't been doing anything different with him as far as you can remember, and if it wasn't you…
If it wasn't you, then, who was it…?
"…."
God, it almost feels like you're going insane, drawing vivid conclusions without consulting him first, but were you really to blame here?
The evidence was basically all there, staring at you right in the goddamn face!
How lately, he's always wearing his blue light glasses around the house and how he's constantly hogging the charger for himself, as if recurrently in front of a screen, perhaps, texting some random chick behind your back…!
Your baseless thoughts were practically confirmed as well, when you'd tried to take sneak a quick peek at his phone during one of his ridiculously long shitting sessions, only to find that he'd taken his phone with him to the bathroom.
To the bathroom!!
Sure, most people had their phone accompany them to cure their boredom while they took shit, but in your case, everything was starting to add up!
It was just so blatantly obvious, and you'd only be a foolish moron to deny it further, to deny what he was trying so desperately hard to hide from you.
"Hey." His voice, dry and relaxed, snaps you out of your spiralling thoughts, pulling you back to reality by the taut thread your sanity was clinging to. "I'll be back later, yeah?"
You don't grace him with a verbal response, barely guarding him with a stare of acknowledgement as he stands across from you by the apartment door, waiting for your usual farewells and wishes of safe returns.
"[Name]?"
Kaiser sounds uncertain as he addresses you, and you're not sure what spurs your destructive curiosity, whether it's that last bit of confirmation you need before confronting him, or some innate desperation that blooms after hearing the slight waver in his tone, but you seek it out for yourself.
"Can I— uh, can I check your phone..?"
The silence that ensues has your pulse falter and your heart flatline.
You're positively sure your nervous system's shutting down too, the dread from the sudden stillness entirely to blame for the way your stomach lurches to your congesting throat. There's even a tremble in your hands as you press them close to your side, hoping to contain the fear that overwhelms you.
If he refuses, then he's definitely hiding something… If he doesn't want me seeing his phone, then he's definitely—
"Sure."
"Huh?"
The noise of your confusion is almost comical as you raise your head with alarm, your earlier fright seemingly for nothing when the sight of his phone greets you teasingly.
"My phone?" He tilts his head jadedly, not at all bothered by what any normal person would be bothered by.
"…uh, thanks." You take it from him with mild hesitation, fingers briefly brushing against his warmer ones during the exchange.
What the hell? He just gave it to me? No questions asked…? No! He just wants me to think that way! This calculating bastard's probably deleted all the evidence!
You huff mockingly, guarding him with a glare of growing suspicion, something he doesn't pay attention to, not when he's too busy yawning away the fatigue from his lack of sleep doing God knows what at the heinous hour of dawn.
The phone almost feels like a ticking time bomb in your hands, and perhaps it is, considering how you were about to find some real sketchy shit on it. A moment passes as you calm your haywire nerves with quiet breaths, then, you're switching his phone on, gulping cautiously as the screen lit up with a… horribly pixelated image of a puddle?
Huh?
Your puzzlement barely lasts a second, not when the phone just unlocks by itself, without you having to input a code or anything into it.
"…."
This- this idiot doesn't have a password on his phone?!
"You… you don't have a password on your phone..?" The utter disbelief in your tone goes ignored by the athlete.
He only blinks at you owlishly, brow raising with genuine confusion. "Do I need one?"
"I mean," you exhale deeply, pinching the bridge of your nose with unbridled bewilderment, questioning how nobody's tried to steal his phone yet, "most people have one…"
"Oh," Kaiser hums deeply, like he's considering your words for a brief minute before shrugging them off carelessly. "It's not like there's anything important on it."
I'll see that for myself, alright!? Hmph! Only people with things to hide say stuff like that…
You glance at him dubiously, before your gaze falls back on his unlocked phone with beguiled intent, your brows furrowing in thought as you internally debated your options.
I'd like to see his messages… but maybe it's better if I just check his screen time instead..?
And you do just that, your fingers move with the expertise of a veteran, pulling up his settings app to check his screen time, a stat that greets you in its full glory.
Twelve- TWELVE FUCKING HOURS ON WEB BROWSER??? WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING ON IT FOR SO LONG???!!
Your eyes near bulge out of their sockets at the number, before you rub at them furiously, hoping the comical endeavour clears your vision of the bullshit you're hallucinating. But instead of it reducing to a more appropriate number like you'd quietly expected, the absurd double digits remain, large and mocking as they stare back at you with mirth.
"Oi- oi…!" Your finger trembles against yourself as you point to the screen accusingly, tapping on it frantically to get his attention. "Explain!"
"Oh." He offers no further explanation, only scratching his head in response, none the wiser to your skyrocketing concerns. "Uh, well, I found this website and can't seem to get off it."
"Website!?" You repeat, your mind flying a mile a minute as he nods noncommittally, a gesture that has dread pool in your stomach.
A website??? And he can't get off it?? Oh my God- don't tell me, it's—
"P-porn hub?!"
"Pinterest."
"Huh."
"What."
"…."
The silence is unbearably loud, and you nearly shit yourself when he guards you with a look of mild offence, clearly felling very insulted by your baseless accusation.
"What did you just say?" His brow arches as he guards you with disbelief, looking a minute away from decking the life out of you.
"….Haha! P-pinterest!" You try to collect yourself, hoping he drops the subject before you explode into a pile of mush from humiliation. "Pinterest, huh?"
"…yeah." Kaiser eventually gets the hint and lets the topic go, giving up on trying to figure out whatever bullshit of a misunderstanding you ended up conjuring with your vivid imagination — a trait he was rather fond of.
You can only grin with relief when he doesn't inquire further about your ridiculous thoughts, though the relief is only momentary, for the reminder of his screentime resurfaces, urging you to investigate further. "But what about your screentime?! Why the hell is it at twelve fucking hours?!"
"Well, they have lots of pretty pictures," he admits quietly, fiddling with the ends of his bangs as he tried explaining his reasoning behind that absurd screentime. "It takes me a while to decide which to have as my wallpaper."
"Wallpaper?" You perk up, that explained his odd wallpaper you couldn't help cringe at earlier, it was so badly grainy and blurry, you thought you'd end up suffering an aneurysm.
"Yeah, look." He says, taking the phone from you while keeping it in your line of sight as he pressed on the screen a couple of times to open the website.
"If I click on this pretty picture, I can screenshot it and have it as my wallpaper." He talks you through each step, following along with them as he presents to you the abomination of a pixilated wallpaper he foolishly thought was pretty. "Helps calm me down when I look at it after some idiot's pissed me off."
Kaiser throws you a smug grin, feeling prideful for finally being able to teach you something 'techy' when it was usually him being the technologically inept boomer. You have to resist the disrespectful urge to scoff in his face when he keeps glancing at you with a puppy-ish glint in his eyes, searching for you approval and compliments.
"That's not… sigh, that's not how you use pinterest." You nearly roll your eyes with distaste, snatching the phone away from him to show him how it's really done. "You have to download the app first."
"There's- there's an app…?" He looks distraught at your comment, complexion comically paling with horror as the earlier aura of cockiness surrounding him wilted in an instant at your bluntness.
"Yes, and you can just download the images while keeping its resolution instead of taking screenshots."
"Huh?" The guy doesn't follow, his spinning expression a telling sign of his growing confusion.
You can only sigh while shaking your head, it looked like he had a lot to learn, and given how he was already running late to practice, a few more minutes spent on teaching him how to use the software wouldn't hurt.
"Sit down," you fall to the ground with a huff, tapping the space beside you for him to follow along, something he does immediately with no complaints. "I'll teach you."
And that's exactly how your crash course on 'Beginners Tutorial For Using Pinterest Like a Pro, No Glue, No Borax' shortly began. You taught him how to navigate around the app, how to make boards and how to pin certain posts into those categorised boards, while also teaching him the correct way to download images instead of whatever abomination he thought was right.
"It looks prettier…" Kaiser admits reluctantly, eyes bright with awe as he admired the resolution of his new wallpaper, something he always struggled to achieve with his pathetic screenshots.
"Right?" It's your turn to be smug now as you guard him with a humoured grin, finding immense delight in his quiet joy.
"Yeah." He nods softly, the tufts of his hair bouncing along in agreement, a sight that has your heart clench.
You stare at him for a little while longer, quietly endeared by his boyish wonder, before pulling your own phone out and holding it up proudly in his line of sight. "But not as pretty as my wallpaper!"
"Hm?" Kaiser looks up with mild curiosity, pretty blue eyes landing on the way your screen lit up with an image of himself. "It's me…"
"Yep!" You cheer, before tapping on the screen relentlessly, the lockscreen changing to different candid pictures of him that you must've taken when he was too distracted to notice.
"…oh." He offers no further response, or rather, he's unable to even think of one, the flush on the tip of his nose a telling sign of his quaint shyness.
There's silence following your quiet show of affection, filled with warmth and tenderness, a moment that lasts for a short while, until it's later disturbed by Kaiser who finally gains his senses.
His gaze is fixed intently on his phone, tapping away at it with the concentration of a scholar and the speed of a grandma, before he shoves it right in your face with a prideful huff.
You squint, pulling back and gently taking the device from him to see what he desperately wanted to show you. It's his wallpaper, but instead of it being an image of the aesthetic puddle you helped him find earlier on pinterest, it was a selfie of the two of you. One you'd absentmindedly taken during one of your many trips to the library down the neighbourhood.
It was a horrible composition, zoomed in awkwardly on your face and blurry to boot, but… but it was sort of cute… if you were as blind as a bat and grew up around dis-formed behemoths.
"Mine's…" He starts off competitively, head turning away from you with growing embarrassment as his voice cracked ungainly, "…prettier."
"…."
Ah, to think this easily flustered guy was the same guy you'd thought as unfaithful… shame on me.
the thought of my angel listening to audio books as he scrolls on pinterest 🥹🥹
anyway i told two close friends that kaiser likes to have pretty wallpapers bc it helps calm him down, one of them said "omg he has a pic of ur face on it" 🥹🥹🥹✌️, and the other said he needs therapy 😡😡😡. now which of the two do you think has been subject to my kaiser rants for longer?
— req: anya inspired gn! reader ft. itoshi.s, julian.l, bunny.i
itoshi sae is a selfish man who doesn't like to share, both impatient and easily irritated, the type who's quick to blow his shit at the slightest interaction the minute it begins to drag far too long for his liking. so it's no wonder that you, a jarring loudmouth with too much to say and an even bigger appetite to boot, has managed to grate on every single nerve he has. the only issue, however, is that you’re cute.
and sae, is disgustingly weak to cute things.
"Sae."
You've been at this for a while now, repeatedly calling out his name with a longing lilt in your tone, lashes fluttering obnoxiously as you greedily eyed up the ice lolly he'd purchased on a whim, feeling nostalgic of the past.
Something he doesn't even get a chance to fucking do.
Not when you're all up and over him, pawing at his arm to get his elusive attention, your pretty eyes all round and pleading as you stare him — the ice lolly — down.
"No…" He manages to force out, gaze desperately trying to avoid yours.
"But Sae!"
It's almost comical how quickly your mood shifts, your misplaced fury growing tenfold when he tried to pull his arm away from your vice-like grip.
Though, it's actually more comical how quickly he folds. The godforsaken memory of your tears resurfaces once more, haunting him of a future if he even considered the outlandish thought of refusal.
"Tch, here!"
Sae is surprisingly gentle despite his irate huff as he reluctantly hands you the ice treat, the pretty pink flush of his ears a telling sign of his extreme willingness.
"Thank you, Sae!"
Your gratitude has no effect on him, he lies to himself while rolling his eyes. But your next words, both ardent and considerate, send him into a spluttering mess of fluster.
"Wanna share w'me, Sae-chan?"
"No!"
It's more than just his ears that are flaming red right now, you're forwardness entirely to blame. And Sae hates to admit it, but part of him regrets refusing your golden offer of an indirect kiss.
"Damn it…" You grumble under your breath, your distracted nature failing to notice the blackmail worthy sight of his patheticness, something he's eternally grateful for, for he'd rather die than be caught—
"You were supposed to throw the stick in the bin after having the last lick..!"
"…."
julian loki is the kind of guy who's sometimes too competitive in his life. whether it's running the parent race and obliterating every father with a pot belly, or accepting an infant's challenge to a game and absolutely smoking them even if they've only just recently learnt the rules of said game, julian's never really been one to hold back or show mercy against his opponents. even if it means dealing with a bunch of profane complaints or snotty tears.
funnily enough, however, julian can't seem to hold the same sentiment when it comes to you.
Loki can't believe how it's come to this.
How one moment, the huge sports court was filled with an entire class of student, split exactly in half and into two opposing teams for an average game of dodgeball. And how in the next — after the whistle was blown, signifying the start of the wretched game — one team had somehow reduced to exactly one member while the other, Loki's team, remained untouched.
Obviously, with Mr. Sweat on one team, his accuracy, speed and strength combined, they were sure to have been the victors of this game. But that wasn't the inconceivable part of this situation, the actual inconceivable part was how you, with your imbalance, slowness, and the aim of a blind bat, had managed to become the lone survivor of this game.
You're standing there like a newborn deer caught in headlights, shaking in your scuffed trainers as you stare ahead with your mouth agape, likely just as surprised as everybody else in the room was to be the last one standing.
The shouts of your despair ridden teammates prove to be of no use to you either. Their countless 'catch the ball', 'hit someone' and 'pick up the ball' falling deaf on your ears, only stressing you out further, something Loki is quick to pick up on.
"I- I, sniff, can't do this..!"
You're not even holding the soft ball properly anymore, dropping it on accident only to recollect it with the clumsiness of a bull in a china shop, your resolve completely driven to a standstill. A sight that infuriates Loki more than he'd like to admit.
Nothing happens for a good while, and Loki begins to grow just as restless and impatient as his useless teammates behind him that urge him to end this 'boring' game, tempting advice that goes ignored.
He feels slight pity towards you, who looks a moment away from bursting into tears, and even considers throwing a ball right into your hands so he could get himself out of this game when a yawn nearly threatens to slip past him in his boredom. That is until— your stance changes.
It's so sudden, how the air around you shifts in an instant, your gaze focused unlike before as you press your feet firmly against the ground. You hold one hand out before you, taking aim with the concentration of a veteran while the other, holding the soft ball, pulls back with fixed intent. Your positioning snaps him into one of his own, a defensive stance ready to catch the ball he was sure you would launch with all your might.
A useless endeavour, for the ball does not come to him at mach speed like he expects.
"Watch me unleash— Eeek-!"
In fact, it does not even come to him at all.
The ball's trajectory is strangely off, and Loki follows it with blank eyes, as it goes up high and back down anticlimactically, hitting you square in the head with a comically loud 'thwack' that has him half wince at your crumbling figure.
"It- It hurts—!! WAHHHH!"
He wastes no time when your pathetic whining reaches his ears, a noise that urges him into motion and under the ball that has bounced off of your head perfectly.
The ball hits his thigh before its motion is completely killed, the sudden stillness of it rebounding off of him signalling his defeat— something he doesn't get even a chance to be depressed over when he's rushing over to you instead, thoughts of how to comfort your dramatically weeping figure consuming his mind in its place.
bunny iglesias likes, or rather, loves to taunt people just for the pure sake of it. he's not exactly sure what of it gives him so much thrill, perhaps it's the way his insensitive comments have a way of wiping away people's jarring smile, but it's one of his favourite past times nonetheless. especially when it comes to teasing you who is comically expressive in your reactions.
that is, of course, until you start crying.
"You look pretty today."
It's not often Bunny compliments you, it's not ever that he compliments you actually. The insensitive man's always trying to piss you off somehow. Be it pulling on your pigtails, pinching your rounded cheeks or stealing your belongings and keeping it out of reach, he never lets the opportunity to rage-bait you pass.
So it's no wonder that you — painfully used to his taunts and teases — can't seem to comprehend the kind words that have just come out of his mouth.
"Gah—" You blink owlishly, a noise of confusion slipping by you as imaginary question marks floated around the both of you in tandem.
"I'm not lying," he guards you with a slight curve to his lips, amusement visible in his jewelled eyes as he gave you another once over, nodding to himself like you'd passed his standards. "You look pretty."
"Uh… well!" You huff, quickly gaining sense of his unsettling but truthful words as the minutes passed. Placing a hand to your chest and using the other to flick your hair back, you returned his tight smile with a cocky grin of your own, very clearly pleased to finally hear his praises. "I am pretty—"
Bunny doesn't give you a chance to reaffirm yourself, not when he interrupts you mid speech, completely crushing your self fangirling with his petulant cruelty.
"Pretty ugly."
It's so comical how quick the blooming flowers around you wilt the way your smile drops, replaced with an expression of outrage that tickles him more than he'd like to admit.
"What?!"
"That's right." He hums with content, pinching his chin in mock thought while making a point to ignore your profane complaints, as if he didn't actively find sick enjoyment in your torment. "Maybe as ugly as a blobfish? Ah, but that's an insult to the poor blobfi—"
"I don't look like a blobfish!" Your fists clench as you shake your head profusely, absolutely adamant on denying his utter bullshit.
"What was that?" He cups the back of his ear and crouches low beside you, mockingly accommodating for your shorter stature to hear you better.
"I said I don't—!"
"You're uglier than a blobfish? Ah, tsk tsk," he kisses his teeth with disapproval only to continue with his sadism. "You should have more confidence in yourself, well actually, it's better to acknowledge the truth than lie to your—"
"I'm, I'm not ugly…!" You deny once more, except this time, your voice cracks with uncertainty, a tremble that does not go unheard by the taller man.
"What..?" Bunny's gaze flies to you in an instant, heart clawing in his throat when your glossy eyes, along with your wobbly and down-turned lips greet him in tandem.
"I'm not, sniff, an uggo..!" You whine pathetically, the globs of unshed tears finally falling down your cheeks in your bout of childish despair, a sight that knocks the wind out of him and urges him into motion.
Bunny's reaction is immediate much like his regret, one arm wrapping around your squirming figure and pulling you infinitely closer to his proximity.
"Yeah, yeah," he folds pathetically quicker, wiping away at your ceaseless tears with gentleness unfit of him. "You're not ugly, so stop crying… damn it."
lwk kinda rusheddddd, but uhhh lmk if u want part 2 w the other 3 ng11
husband!sae being at the mercy of your pregnancy cravings ୭౿
you woke up at 2:20 am with the most intense craving you’d had all pregnancy. at seven months pregnant, your cravings had only gotten more unpredictable by the day, causing your appetite to have a mind of its own.
your hand instinctively rested on your rounded belly as you turned to your husband, gently shaking his shoulder.
“sae… sae, wake up.”
sae stirred with a low groan, teal eyes cracking open in the dark. his voice was raspy and slightly irritated from sleep.
“… what?”
you bit your lip, feeling a little guilty but too hungry (and too pregnant) to care. “i’m really craving mcdonald’s right now. the fries, the chicken burger… ohhh, and maybe a chocolate shake too if that’s available!”
sae stared at you blankly for a few seconds, trying to decide if you were being serious. then he let out the most exhausted sigh you’d ever heard all day.
“at 2 in the morning, amor? seriously?” he rubbed at his eyes, still slightly groggy from being woken up so suddenly.
you nodded blearily, giving him your best pleading look while rubbing your belly. “our baby wants it, pretty pleaseee?”
apparently that seems to be the magic word.
sae dragged a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath before sitting up. after a moment of reluctance, he grabbed a hoodie and slipped it on. “… stay in bed,” he murmured, suppressing a yawn.
“i’ll be back.”
you watched in quiet surprise as he took his keys and wallet, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek, then one to your belly. “tell her we’re not doing this every week though,” he sighed, narrowing his eyes at your belly.
. . .
forty minutes later, sae returned with two big paper bags. the second he opened the bedroom door, the unmistakable scent of hot fries and freshly cooked burgers drifted through the room. your stomach immediately reacted, the craving hitting you twice as hard now that the food was actually in front of you.
he set everything on the nightstand before climbing back into bed and pulling you gently against his chest.
you practically lit up when he brought the food over, immediately reaching for the carton of fries as though you hadn’t eaten in days. sae watched you with half-lidded eyes, one arm draped protectively around your waist, his other hand resting on your bump.
“… better?” he asked quietly.
you nodded, mouth full of fries, tears pricking your eyes from how emotional the pregnancy made you. “sooo much better! thank you, darling.”
he hummed, pressing his face into your hair while rubbing slow circles on your belly. “you and our baby are too spoiled,” he murmured, though there was nothing but fondness in his voice.
you relaxed against his chest as you continued munching contentedly on your fries, completely at ease in his arms.
despite his initial complaints, he’d still gotten out of bed and driven across town in the middle of the night just because his pregnant wife was craving mcdonald’s. it goes to show that no matter how much sae complained— he’d always give you whatever you wanted.
𝐞𝐯𝐚’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 💌 ⸝⸝⸝ craving mcdonald’s right about now
With practically no memories of your past life, you awaken one day to find that you’ve been wrongfully accused of witchcraft! The only thing guiding you out of this predicament? A strange diary that offers you mysterious advice!
— play the role of the heroine and gain the affection of the love interests.
content: isekai and transmigration, historical au, reverse harem, reader-insert, platonic love and romantic love, tw: dark themes, abuse and violence, capital punishment, self harm and suicidal ideation, period-typical sexism, religious imagery and symbolism, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, slow burn, multiple endings. link to ao3
word count: 4.9k
a/n: eeee, been waiting so excitedly to see hugo again!!! also idk if i'll even add that chopped ng11 into this fic, why tf is he so goddamn chopped holy chopped omg, this is not fucking okay, also ch title is a reference to my drabble hehehe, anyway, happy reading my thangums <3 also sorry in advance for any mistakes!!
series masterlist | chapter 6 | chapter 8
chapter tw: hugo is on a mad tingggg omg, hugo and reader acting like parents i think, charles and reader bullying hugo 2gether, domestic fluff... think that's it
STATUS UPDATE:
[Vivien Hugo is relieved to have caught you in time. He doesn't want you to catch a cold again.]
[+10 love points]
[Current Progress: 20/150]
It's changed…
Hugo's love meter— it definitely changed!
You might've awoken into this world with no memories of the past, unable to recall a single thing without the 'help' of your pathetic diary, so perhaps this was rather rich coming from you, but there was no way you'd let yourself forget what you've endured with your mind intact.
Not when your life was at stake at least.
It would only be foolish of you not to keep record of every event you've experienced, especially after the agony that came from failing to decrypt your horribly logged diary entries! Trying to read that bullshit almost gave you a brain aneurysm, it was so terrible that you made a blood pact to never do something as counter-productive as that ever again — hyperbolically, of course.
Hugo's progress was in the negatives before I passed out, but now, it's back in the positives? More than that, however, even the total amount you needed to get has increased by fifty points!
How?!
No, you shook the thought away mentally, that wasn't the right question to ask yourself.
Why?
Why did it increase?
A higher threshold means you'll only have to work harder to meet it, ultimately becoming a hindrance in your path of survival. Sure, it could be the system's way of punishing you for lack of cooperation, but that didn't make sense, not under the original context you became aware of that fact at least.
It was just a warning back then…
And as far as you could remember, the limit to Hugo's love meter was still a hundred when the system warning was formally issued. Thus, implying that it rose quite recently, unbeknownst to you, and from something else entirely at that.
I would've definitely noticed otherwise, so it must've been while I was unconscious— only then would it have slipped past you. Which then raised the question, what the hell happened between the two of you?
Larger gauge aside, even his progress bar's also increased! A fact happily welcomed with open arms, but still much too difficult to wrap your head around.
Wasn't it supposed to have decreased? Considering how he'd been subject to your fury that day in the library…
Something— something isn't adding up right!
"Hugo—!"
You forcibly tore your gaze away from the fading system notification, eyes frantic with levelled desperation as they search for the man capable of consuming your boundless thoughts. The effort barely lasts a moment, for he's right there, in an instant, and at the beck of your single call, nearing your proximity with no regard of noble etiquette.
"My lady," his voice reaches a low whisper, soothing in nature as they speak soft console in your ringing ears. "I've got you."
A pair of deep eyes greet you in their quaint shade of darkness, partly obscured with the lengths of his short reddish hair and partly illuminated by the lantern's little flame, a light that bathed them in a softened, golden hue. He blinks slowly as he tilts his head with question, a motion drawing attention to his wispy lashes that are unfairly long and undeserving for a man like him.
"Oh- uh," the words you wish to vocalise are suddenly caught in your throat, his appearance a sight to behold, and you find yourself meekly nodding instead, hoping the quiet gesture conveys what your stammers fail to. "Um, yeah…"
Hugo guards you for a brief minute, expression narrowing with something unreadable, though it disappears as quickly as it appeared. The arm that is taut around your waist guides you to safety, only loosening when you're a fair distance away from the fountain of your mis-fortune.
It takes you a little while to realise what he's doing, quite literally manhandling you, but before you can even process your complaints, he's muttering a hushed 'pardon me' as warning, his breath marring your skin with countless goosebumps. A cold shiver then threatens to crawl out of you, something that he's somehow able to foresee with his hawk-like perception and act against.
Heat engulfs your figure in an instant, along with the faint scent of sweat and the lingering warmth of his presence. You blink once, your gaze dropping to follow the garment that now drapes over your shoulders, its hemline teasing your bare ankles with the promise of thermal comfort.
"A cloak?" You mumble under your breath, brows furrowing with mild confusion as you adjusted the outerwear to cover more of yourself.
The lack of response raises questions, urging you to look up with curiosity that craved to be sated. Hugo's no longer fused to your proximity — much to your heart's delight — as he approaches Charles who is a short span from you.
You watch the taller man repeat the kind gesture to the young knight, mouth pursing with deep ponder as the spare cloak he'd been carrying is drawn over the boy's broader shoulders. The act is natural and barely conspicuous, but no matter how small the service may be, his quiet attempt to ward off the evening breeze rattles you a lot more than you'd like to admit.
The realisation settles within you like a bitter afterthought, and your eyes shift again, to Hugo's shoulders, bare aside from his thin tunic, and then back to your figure, blanketed beneath the lengths of the large garment.
It's obviously his…
You don't get a chance to dwell on the epiphany for long either, not when Charles speaks again, his voice rising volumes unheard of.
"What are you doing here?" The boy doesn't bother hiding the accusation that drags against his words as he addresses the older knight.
"I came to check up on you and her ladyship because you were taking too long." Hugo answered plainly, unbothered with Charles' otherwise rude tone as he tied the garment’s string securely around the boy. "Imagine my horror when I found her chamber absent of both your presence."
My chamber?
Hugo's comment was quick to pique your interest, the casualness behind entering your room — a notion that was formerly viewed with distaste by Loki and the house servants — sending a flurry of warning bells to ring in your head.
He says it like he's been keeping an eye on my room—!
"You were actually scared?!" Charles, once again, practically yells with uncharacteristic loudness. An amplitude that surprises you given how meek he usually sounds when conversing with you.
"I wasn't." Hugo barely blinked as the younger knight floated around him with comical intrigue.
"What?!" Another screech is sounded from the boy, the bounce in his steps coming to a standstill as he gapes with outrage.
"Well, with you accompanying her ladyship, I didn't think anything would happen." Hugo's heavy hand lands on the blond's head with weight, the length of his calloused fingers ruffling the tufts of pale hair, pulling a short 'omph!' out of Charles who accepts the affection regardless of his faux disapproval.
The sight is unfairly adorable, and the atmosphere is both warm and pleasant, hauling you in against your will. You're hesitant as you approach the duo, feeling more like an unwanted third wheel interrupting up on the endearing moment, but Hugo's next words has you abandon all sense of pride.
"What are you both doing out here anyway?"
He makes it sound careless, as if it's merely out of mild curiosity than investigative intent, but the careful glint in his eyes speak otherwise. It's something Charles doesn't realise, perhaps too drunk on Hugo's compliments to notice the older knight's probing, though it doesn't slip past your vigilance.
"We were on a—"
You don't let the boy finish his reckless admittance, jumping in before he can ruin your plan altogether. Sure, you'd mentioned being out on a walk to Charles to conceal your true intentions, but that was before you had lost your ring — before you were caught trying to 'take a bath in the fountain' as Hugo accused you of.
Trying to explain to the latter that you were on walk when he'd actively found you leaning over the fountain with your hand outstretched would only raise unwanted questions, an interrogation you were unwilling to be put through. So telling the truth, spun with a couple of little lies, would do you better justice than the harm of lying entirely.
Even if it meant blowing your cover, there was no way you could abandon the ring, that would be your loss! The mission of acquiring the coin of wealth was better put on pause, aborted even, but leaving without the ring wasn't an option you were ever going to consider.
"My ring." You finally speak, your voice clear despite the slight tremble that follows suit. "I lost my ring in the fountain and came looking for it tonight, that's when I stumbled upon the young knight who offered his aid. Isn't that right, Charles?"
"Uh—"
Charles doesn't get a chance to vouch for you or argue against your alibi, not when Hugo is right at your foot with his jarring persistence, his face contorting into an expression of dubiety as he casts your empty finger a brief glance.
"Charles, the prodigious knight, offered his aid?" Hugo recounts what you've told him, voice tinged with mockery as he guards you with another look of disbelief. "And yet, it was you, my lady, who was looking in the fountain for the ring."
The absoluteness in his tone resounds with an echo, commanding thin silence and just daring you to dispute. It's clear he doesn't trust a word of what you say, his intense gaze giving away that much, and you're positively certain that there's shit crawling down your ass crack at his perception.
Shit! He totally got me!
"It's my ring." You repeat, voice hoarse as your throat congested with an unidentifiable lump of uncertainty. Your eyes, unlike your words, waver for a short moment, a movement that does you more good than you realise. "I needed to find it, I— I can't lose it…"
Gambling it all on the ring was risky, though you've come to realise it's about the only thing you can do in your plight of despair.
Maybe it's your praiseworthy performance, or perhaps it's your ardent desperation, but your words are sincere down to your very soul. The ring is yours, and it has undoubtedly become precious to you. A clear jewel you've assigned your life's burden to, and thus, forsaking a bit of wealth in exchange for it has become an easy feat.
The effect of your heartfelt plea is instant, Hugo drops down to one knee without any following arguments, the noise of his fall startling the utter most shit out of you.
"Grant me your patience, my lady." His head hangs low with what you assume is shame, the lengths of his vibrant, red hair gravitating down below and concealing his furrowed expression. "I'll find the ring for you, you have my honest word."
The man spends no further second dawdling, he's up quickly and moving towards the fountain with tunnel vision, fixed intently on a single goal — finding your ring. Which leaves you to deal with a bigger problem, somehow convincing Charles to go along with your scheme…
God, it might've been much easier to convince the world that you weren't a witch instead of what you hoped to achieve from the stiff boy beside you. But even as the air between the two of you became charged with awkwardness and discomfort, you couldn't give up easily.
"Knight of flowers?" You call out cheerfully, only to cringe when the endearment rolls off ungainly, having the averse effect on him.
"Hic—!" He practically jumps out of his skin at the teasing nickname, startled to hear you initiate conversation with him once more.
"Uh," you guard him with a look of bewilderment, mildly annoyed to see him become a shell of his usual boisterousness. "Charles… I mean."
The boy of topic finally meets your gaze, albeit rather timidly, something that doesn't surprise you much to your quiet dismay. It's evidently clear that he struggles to navigate himself around you the way he does with Hugo. Forget having him attest for you, you might as well lather yourself in sunscreen and prepare for your next cremation.
I could try complimenting him, get him drunk and giddy off my flattery… But, in the end, they're just a bunch of words, prettily strung together with no tangible value…
Hugo was only successful in his approach to extract information from Charles because for one, he already has a pre-built rapport with the younger knight. Something you didn’t have. The two can easily share affections, lower their guards like Charles had done, which then made him easily perceptible to control.
There's simply no chance that Charles was going to heed to your wishes with a bit of praise from you, not when the both of you had a rocky first impression, and an even rocky-er relationship development!
He'll probably end up shitting himself if I start ruffling his hair the way Hugo did…
So, you're left with no other choice.
"Just go along with me, kay?" You hum with a sleazy smile, unbothered with keeping up the tiresome appearance in front of the boy who's most likely seen the worst of you.
"Huh?" He blinks, staring you with wide and unblinking eyes, his mouth gaping at your nerve. It doesn't even take a minute for him to register the tone you're using, and for some inexplicable reason, the boy decides now’s the best time to argue with you again. "I don't want to!"
"Quiet!" You huff with vigour, your hand sneaking past the protection of his cloak to pinch the flesh of his arm.
"Eek-!" He lets out a small squeak of surprise, one you're quick to smother with your other hand, a sudden constraint that has him squirm like a feisty little kitten.
"Tch— you brat!" You spit with venom, your voice, by some miracle, still at low volume despite your growing frustrations. "Stop moving!"
Charles doesn't heed to your demand like you expect, choosing to struggle some more in your hold despite having the strength of a skilled knight. It's something you don't realise, not until you feel him giggle in your hand. The noise of his mirth both warm and delightful, slightly muffled against your cool palm but still lucid and vividly tangible.
He's… He's laughing!
It's so unbelievable, so much so that you even question the state of your hearing as he bends over slightly to accommodate the heat of joy that fills his stomach.
You come to a stop, breathless and unable to conceive the new finding about the strange boy. This whole time, it was this easy to lower his guard?
Your earlier conversation with Loki comes to mind, how the vice-commander described Charles to be both immature and foolish. That time, he'd also mentioned how Charles did the exact opposite of what people asked him to do, an irritating habit that people continuously struggled against.
The past conversation lingers in your mind for a short moment, giving light to a sudden idea.
"You know what, nevermind. You can go ahead and tell him to the truth…" You immediately regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth, even if they're a part of your grander plan.
"…." Charles just stares at you instead of replying much to your horror, most likely gobsmacked at your sudden change of character.
I knew this was a bad idea…! Than what if I offered him something in return…?!
"What about macarons from Kernel..?!" You find yourself saying before you can form a coherent thought, eyes glazed with hope as they desperately latched onto his hunched form. "If I gave you half a dozen of them… will you promise to go along with my whims?"
The vice-commander made no mention of Charles liking sweets, so this was another gamble of yours that risked just about everything on the line… But, who could possibly refuse sweets?!
Not you at least, and you could only hope that Charles shared the same opinion.
A tense silence ensues following your offer, one that has your stomach gnaw at itself. The thought of your failure lingers, and you brace yourself for his refusal, something that'll inadvertently play a massive role in the rate of your survival.
Though what you fear doesn't come.
Not in refusal like you'd expected, or in the form petty tattling.
Charles holds his pinky out towards you, boyish anticipation written all over him as he avoids your gaze. There's a slight flush on his ears, most likely from embarrassment, and it's a sight that has your heart swell with relief.
"H-half a dozen, yeah?!" He reaffirms your offer, brows furrowing with dubiety.
"Sure, half a dozen." You nod with no qualms, locking pinkies with him to seal the promise like naive children do.
Fortunately for him, you had exactly half a dozen macarons sitting on your plate in your room, left uneaten and now contracted to another.
STATUS UPDATE:
[Vivien Hugo is beginning to grow annoyed. He feels left out from your conversation and wants to hear what you're both whispering about.]
[-10 love points]
[Current progress: 10/150]
Huh?
"Charles, it's dark over here. I need some light."
Hugo's voice sounds from afar like a bad omen, echoing with the promise of peril, the kind of noise that has you nudge Charles forward with zero shame.
What a childish guy…
As if you were any better.
Charles quickly joins the older knight with a bounce in his step, gleaming with joy at the prospect of eating Kernel's highly praised sweets. He stands beside Hugo, holding the lantern above like he'd done with you earlier, an act that illuminates the fountain with enough light to aid in the search of your precious ring.
They both share a small back and forth, something you don't pay great attention to, not when your gaze is fixed intently on the way Hugo's well-built figure peeks through his thin evening clothes.
It doesn't take long for Hugo to spot your missing item, his hawk-like perception to praise for that, and it takes even less time for the man to retrieve it. He doesn't bother pulling his pant legs up like any normal person would, nor does he think twice when he enters the frigid water. There's no hesitation in his movements, only careful calculation, and perhaps that's what makes him so efficient.
Like a loyal dog returning back to its owner, Hugo bounds his way back over to you. A trail of water following after his footsteps, dragging him to standstill in front you and your awaiting hands. His gaze lingers on them for a short while, tracing the lines of your slender fingers in deep thought as his fist clenched tight around the jewelled ring.
"Mission complete." He mumbles with a short nod, finally yielding possession of it.
"Thank you, Sir Hugo!" You squeal with unbridled elation, a wide grin growing across your face as you happily accept the ring. Your excitement bleeds through your pathetic front as you grasp the ends of his long sleeve, overwhelmed with appreciation.
STATUS UPDATE:
[Vivien Hugo is extremely pleased to receive your gratitude. He would happily dive in a river below negative temperature to hear it again, even though he's sure he'll get frostbite and die if he does.]
[+20 love points]
[Current progress: 30/150]
"It's a pleasure, my lady."
Yeah, I can tell.
You hum noncommittally, sliding the ring back onto your finger as you guard him with curiosity, the corners of your mouth fighting to turn upright as you return his earlier sass. "Did you enjoy taking a bath in the fountain, my knight in soaked sleepwear?"
"…Hah." He can only shake his head at your pettiness, dull eyes curving with visible mirth as you and Charles share a laugh, your amusement both uncalled for and downright disrespectful.
[+10 love points]
"Heh, heh! Hugo did you wet yourself?" Charles doesn't bother holding back the tears that gather around his eyes. "You're an adult, y'know?! You should've learnt to hold it in by now!"
"Oh my! Sir Charles," You placed a ring clad hand over your mouth with mock scandal, enjoying the moment far more than you'd like to admit. "Don't be so crude! Sir Hugo over here doesn't appreciate your rudeness."
"You're right! He looks furious!" Charles agreed quickly, slapping his free hand across his face in shock, the other barely holding onto the lantern as his laughing fit took over.
"I carry the roaring anger of a hundred." Hugo humours your teasing with mocking apathy, drying his wet hands on the side of his slacks. "Sir Charles and Lady [Name] shall now both be slain by my indomitable sword."
"You dare speak that way to your lady- Ah—?!" Your performance is cut short when Hugo abruptly grabs your wrist, tugging on it with no formal warning, a motion that knocks the wind from you and pulls a short gasp out instead.
What—?
His calloused fingers slide from your wrist to your fingers, wrapping around them tight with quiet gentleness, a forceful measure that then guides them around his thick neck.
Wait, what is he—?!
You blink once, mind trying and failing miserably to catch up to his insane speed, and before you know it, he hoists you up. One hand is secured beneath your knees, and the other's pressing your shoulder against his chest, infinitely closer to his proximity that buzzes with welcoming warmth.
The unpleasant smell of rusted metal invades your nose, followed by a familiar musk that you've strangely become well acquainted with. It settles around you unusually, bringing about quaint comfort to your tense shoulders, a notion you can hardly believe.
Wait, wait, wait—! WHAT????!
"Enough with the jests, my lady." He speaks again, husky breath fanning your flushed ears with even more heat. "The Crown Prince will forcibly make you his personal entertainer if you continue."
"P-personal— personal entertainer?!" You nearly screech, cheeks burning with humiliation as you squirm in his immovable hold. "And let, let me go!"
"This again?" Hugo sighs with defeat, oddly perplexed with your discomfort, a sight you couldn't even begin to comprehend. "My lady, I thought you were used to this by now?"
Used to this? THIS? What does he even mean by that—?!
"Charles mentioned that your feet were hurting earlier when you were looking for the ring." He admits quietly, snapping you out of your haywire thoughts and pulling you back to reality.
You pause suddenly, growing limp in his arms as your gaze found the young knight from before once more. Charles notices your staring immediately, of course he does, he's staring right at you! The pink flush that appears on his face tattles on his humiliation, a precious sight born from his boyish concern.
"C'mon, it'll do you more good than harm if I escorted you back in my arms." Hugo urged, as if he wasn't already hauling you back to your quarters.
"Uh… okay." You mumble weakly, still not accustomed to the sudden closeness that he seems way too well-versed with.
The walk — if you could even call it that — back to your quarters is anything but pleasant.
You're not exactly in a position to leap up with joy in the secure arms of your kidnapper after all. So you resort to awkward silence and tense shoulders instead.
Adamantly insistent on your refusal to lean into the borderline seductive warmth his firm body provides. The situation you've found yourself in is just utterly humiliating, you can't even afford to speak your distaste, not when your heart beats a mile minute, eating any words of complaint that your brain conjures up.
And unlike you, who is as still as marble statues, Hugo seems rather fond of carrying you. The constant pinging of the system letting you in on a secret you half wished to be ignorant of.
[+10 love points]
[+10 love points]
[+10 love points]
Knowing every thought that runs through his mind, along with every emotion that his heart speaks of feels wrongfully invasive, even if you aren't the one to blame here.
It's knowledge you have no choice but to carry, the weight of it heavy and overbearing, a burden far too much for you to hold with your efforts alone.
Your rumination helps you through the intimate moment, serving as a form of distraction that eases your load the slightest bit. Only for it to then be interrupted with another ping.
It's almost like an alarm, you note with dry amusement, the way it knocks the wind out of you and sends your heart rate stuttering.
You've both entered the castle now, your chamber just a few hallways away. The evening breeze, that was previously keeping you cool from melting into a pliant mush of fluster, has now ceased from existence too. Hugo's closeness, along with the cloak that still rests around your figure, a force to be reckoned with.
Forget being burned at the stake, this alone was enough to cremate you to ashes.
And while your complaints are incredibly loud in the boundary of your mind, your tense shoulders ease against themselves, becoming weightless and relaxed, a fact that does not go unnoticed by the man who carries you with no struggle.
"My lady?" Again, his voice is soft as he addresses you, a notion plainly inconceivable from what you'd expect of a ferocious soldier. "What did my lady have for dinner this evening?"
It's small talk, a useless noise to fill in the silence, something you can pretend not hear, but…
But you find yourself answering quietly nonetheless, eyes bleary as they blink slowly. "Beef stew and bread…"
"I see…" His voice trails off, sweet like a lullaby as he considers his next thought. "And was it well made? Enough so that you'd send the chef praise?"
"…I suppose." You shrug mindlessly, fighting off the sleep with every fibre of your being, something that could've been easily avoided had you completed your mission, acquired your wealth and crafted an energy drink.
"I'm pleased to hear." The grip around your shoulder tightens for a brief moment, almost thoughtful, only to loosen after a passing second.
STATUS UPDATE:
[Vivien Hugo is glad you're eating your meals, he hates it when you vomit, especially on him.]
[+10 love points]
[Current progress: 80/150]
This little shit—!
The notification is quick to sober you up, but before you can even give him a piece of your mind, Hugo announces your arrival with apathy.
Finally, after what felt forever, he's letting you go. Guiding your bare feet back to the ground, his hands hovering around you with careful consideration as your balance slowly returned.
You almost miss the unfair warmth he released in waves, almost, but you don't let the dangerous thought linger the way his body heat does.
A task made easy when Hugo opens the door like the escort he assigned himself as, urging you forward and into the room with a gesturing hand.
You don't find it in yourself to protest, far too tired to do that and much too embarrassed to continue being in his presence. This was like a golden escape if anything!
"Sweet dreams, my lady." He sends you his well wishes, bidding you one last farewell before turning to leave, something he doesn't get a chance to do when you're absentmindedly reaching out to him, tugging on his sleeve to grab his attention again.
You're not sure what spurs the urge, but his words are eerily familiar, and the part of you that craves to learn refuses to let it be buried, not until your curiosity is sated at least.
The longing behind your endeavour stills him, and you blink with mild confusion, unable to put a word to your thoughts as his back grows rigid with each passing moment.
"My lady…?" He's yet to meet your gaze, back still turned to you as his voice cracked. "Are you… are you cold?"
"Huh." The noise of confusion leaves you in tandem as you consider his words, a phrase you've heard far more times than you could count.
What the hell's with everybody, asking you that question over and over and over again?
"I'm not cold!" You huff, arms crossing as you turn your head away from him, your eyes filtering around your room before they land on your messily arranged table. "Ah! Do you want some macarons before you leave?"
"There's only half a dozen." He bluntly remarks, blankly staring as you crossed the room to reach the plate of Kernel's delicacy.
"And, that isn't enough for you..?" You raised an incredulous brow, a little outraged by his greed.
Sure, his pecs might've been large, as well as his biceps and the muscles around his neck, but even half a dozen macarons was a bit too much for one serving! Could a knight like him afford to causally cheat on his regimen?
"You promised those to Charles, no?" He tilted his head to the side, the pallor of his skin catching the evening moonlight in a radiant hue of opaline as he guarded you with a look of disappointment. "A promise should never be broken, my lady."
"…."
Huh?
You blink again, sleep deprived and fatigued as he shut the door after him, leaving you to yourself, riddled with nothing but endless confusion.
Wait a minute…
STATUS UPDATE:
[Vivien Hugo is unhappy that you considered breaking your promise.]
[-10 love points]
[Current progress: 70/150]
Was he eavesdropping on your conversation the whole thing?!
LOVE INTERESTS:
Vivien Hugo: 70/150
Julien Loki: 40/100
comment to be added to taglist!
taglist: @vampy11x @akatuenk @shinoagriche @maryberry2711 @ieathairs @kimiiyoru @ameliascharisma @ccandiefloss @beepbopzlorp @tofumiarchives @nightshadekisss @penpennie @stmlucky @fairyofprose @oxlipinia @itoshirinlover @x3nafix @tamashithe2nd @vanillaadots @allieluvsh @imactuallyabouttocrashout @gluestik @ik33ponmakingc00ki3s @boba-rama @arisu79 @poetmiu @guluguluuu @yunisl @owltrace @charukii @crxwn-06 @ancientfragment @aveeniexoxo @n0tbelle @pookiei-bookie @renchai @nezha-x @love-my-novio @odetteforachange @no1-glazer @amphitrie
discussion questions:
- any ideas why everybody keeps asking if reader is cold? the question is always brought up when a specific thing is the topic of convo... hehe
- anymore theories regarding the increased love meter gauge?
- also hugo's sudden interest in your eating??? hmmmm on devrais penser mes amis avec notre big brain!!!
- next chapter's gonna answer some more questions!!!! also can u tell i had no idea how to write charles...
michael kaiser who realises the process of mehndi is unfairly long and decides to use this fact to his advantage so he can spend more time with you.
"It looks like shit."
It took an immense amount of willpower not to unleash your rage onto the potty-mouthed man beside you.
You tried, God, you really did, to not let his comments bother you from what was supposed to be a de-stressing activity — doing your own henna — but with the way he leaned into your proximity, playing the fool to your growing irritation, it may as well have been a useless endeavour.
"Looks so shitty."
The man clearly has nothing fucking better to do, why else would he be so adamant on raising your blood pressure and spiking your cortisol levels?
"When are you going to stop putting shit on your hand?"
Now, comes the quiet clinginess.
It's clear he's had a long day of training and wanted nothing more than to spend the evening in your presence, but you're very clearly busy at the moment! Can he not see that?!
"It's not shit." You speak after a moment of contemplation, huffing lightly as you continued to apply the brown paste onto your hand. "It's mehndi, y'know?"
Pleased to finally hear your voice, Kaiser lets out a small hum of acknowledgement and nuzzles into your shoulder like a spoiled little house cat. His fur, or in this case, his two-toned hair, tickles your neck all the way up to your chin, serving as nothing more than an exasperating distraction to your thinly hanging patience.
"Hurry up." He urges, his frustration bleeding through his expression much like yours. And yet, even as he makes his displeasure evident, he tries to stay as still as possible.
"Can't," you sigh as you glance at him from the corner of your eyes. "It'll take me a while to finish, and then I'll have to wait some more till it's dry before I can do anything."
You expect him to throw a fit, a couple of curses to articulate his annoyance, but much to your surprise, he doesn't. Kaiser just stares at the intricate patterns on your hand, his pretty eyes blank and faraway — a telling sign he's using his fried brain cell to form a thought.
The sight is unfairly cute, it has your heart clench and fills you with vigour to finish quickly, but before you can even continue, he says something that has your mouth gape.
"…Do mine." He mumbles quietly, and it's so soft that you almost miss it, but the small flush of heat that spreads across his ears give him away.
"It'll take a while." You warn as you fight back a small smile, excited to hear him show interest in the beauty of your culture.
"Don't care."
Even if it took an eternity, Kaiser didn't think he'd mind, especially not if it meant being in the presence of your gentle warmth.
And that's how you find yourself in your current predicament.
You're perched all comfortable on Kaiser's lap — apparently, because according to him, it would give you 'easier' access to his arm without sending him into a fit of rage from your constant movements. Though you know it's merely a way for him to have you close without having to be direct!
His left arm is wrapped tight around your waist, and his chin rests snugly in the crook of your neck as you apply the henna paste with careful precision and meticulous effort. Your labour is intently observed by the man, omniscient eyes tracing the elaborate patterns that adorn the expanse of his skin with quiet acknowledgement and hushed approval.
And when you occasionally break the sweet silence that he basks in, by asking if he likes what you've drawn so far or if he has any inputs with regards to the design, Kaiser is quick to shush you, urging you to just copy the design you've done to yourself because it'll be 'quicker' to finish and because he doesn't really 'give a shit' if it ends up looking 'shitty'.
For some odd reason, the athlete has trouble telling you that he so badly wants to match with you, but because you're more than used to reading his cryptic mind, you heed to his wishes in the same way he wordlessly does to yours when you ask him to keep still or hold his arm a certain position.
Kaiser, despite being the spoiled little princess he is, doesn't utter a word of complaint when you fold his arm in inhumane ways. Even if he knows he'll end up with a cramp from the uncomfortable position later on, he realises, that he'd rather be the one to suffer than be a genuine annoyance to you.
Your stray hairs are bothering you and blocking your sight?
Kaiser's free hand is moving to tuck them behind your ear before you can huff to express your annoyance.
Your hips or lower back is aching from the strain of your exertion?
Again, his free hand's wandering with intent, pressing firm pressure to the area of your frustration and easing the pain away before you can process what he's doing.
Your endeavours continue, the design that had once started off as a small circle has bloomed into an intricate and explosive artwork of traditional motifs. His arm is decorated with mandalas, lotus flowers, paisleys, a collection of veins and leaves and a few other things he can't name.
It's all so beautiful, he thinks to himself, heart heavy with reverence. And Kaiser is left at a loss for words, his attention split between you who has fallen asleep mid-drawing and your illustrations that sing of your devotion towards him.
He stays still for a good moment, revelling in the sweet warmth your body released in quiet waves. Kaiser wants nothing more than to bottle the soft rhythm of your heartbeat, a noise that reminds him of his humanity and gives him life.
You, give him life— something to live for.
The man slowly pulls the henna cone out of your hand, placing it a far distance away from you along with the tissue that you'd used to wipe the excess of the mehndi off on.
He then gently holds your precious hand in his calloused ones, admiring the large strength it holds despite its small size. Your fingers are slightly swollen from the strain they were previously under, and the pads of them are stained orange from how you'd use them to wipe away any mistakes you were displeased with — something he never quite understood.
Because everything you drew looked sublime in his sight.
Kaiser stares at your fingers with glazed eyes, his thoughts filled with the many breaks you'd taken because your hand felt like it was 'going to spasm apart'. A pang of guilt grows in his stomach, and without further consideration, he's pressing your hand against his lips.
He returns your efforts with his quiet worship. Soft and chaste kisses mar the back of your knuckles, the pads of your stained fingers, before they linger on your palm with profound veneration.
For the little boy in him hopes ardently that his affections heal all of your many wounds.
heheheheheheheh for my south asian brown girls heheheeh, but this is veryyyyy self indulgent, also gave up halfway bc i got hungry, meow
With practically no memories of your past life, you awaken one day to find that you’ve been wrongfully accused of witchcraft! The only thing guiding you out of this predicament? A strange diary that offers you mysterious advice!
— play the role of the heroine and gain the affection of the love interests.
content: isekai and transmigration, historical au, reverse harem, reader-insert, platonic love and romantic love, tw: dark themes, abuse and violence, capital punishment, self harm and suicidal ideation, period-typical sexism, religious imagery and symbolism, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, slow burn, multiple endings. link to ao3
word count: 2.5k
a/n: apologies my lads, this is such a short chapter and i'm so ashamed... but my body was super sore today and i just couldn't physically write anymore... i also thought it'd be nice to name it this specific name... sorry in advance for any mistakes, anyways, happy reading my thangachis <3
series masterlist | chapter 5 | chapter 7
chapter tw: charles being an idiot, reader being depressed as always, panic attack? uhhh i feel bad for charles man...
People often said that good fortune came shortly after bad luck, but in your case, nothing could ever compensate for your shitty fate.
This is possibly the worst case scenario…!
Well, perhaps it wasn't the worst case scenario, considering how you'd already suffered the worst of it. But still, getting caught in the middle of doing something you clearly weren't supposed to do was not a favourable outcome nonetheless.
"L-Lady [Name]?!"
Shit.
You'd been careful, very careful, so fucking careful— overly careful! And somehow, because the world itself seemed to have a personal vendetta against you, your paranoid vigilance was regrettably backfiring on you.
"Charles…? Wha— what are you doing here…?"
Light instantly invaded your vision, courtesy of the lantern the boy had been carrying in the deep of the night. You blinked repeatedly, eyes quickly adjusting to the blinding glow the flame gave off with quiet value.
Damn it!
While waiting for the evening to spread its wing of darkness over the residence, you had thought — like the foolish moron you were — that it'd be best to avoid drawing any kind of attention to yourself, even if meant navigating around this maze-like place without a light-source…
And while there was some kind of strange reasonability to your much stranger thinking, it was the kind of stupidity that was unbecoming of someone like you who was already treading on thin ice.
"Well, I— I could ask you the same!" He grew startled from your sudden question, shoving his free hand behind his back with fright— a sight that oddly resembled a frightened kitten taking on a defensive stance.
"I'm on a walk." You collected yourself with praiseworthy celerity, arms crossing warily as your gaze fixed intently on the little flame that lit up the short distance between the two of you.
It was so small, and yet, even a fire as tiny as this was capable of ending your life…
You made a point to ignore your jagged nerves, raising a sharp brow at him as you put on a stern front. "Is there a problem with that?"
"No— no…" The boy immediately grew timid under your pointed scrutiny, gaze avoidant and hanging low with shame as he slowly approached you with surprising caution, an action that didn't go unnoticed by you. "There isn't…"
Pleased to hear that you wouldn't be put under further interrogation, you let out a short hum of approval. It seems, that the boy was still riddled with guilt from the last time he'd caused you accidental harm, and whilst you knew it was wrong to take advantage of his vulnerability, your bad nature all came down to your survival in the end.
A necessary evil, if you will.
"So?" You urged, cringing at the awkward silence that filled the air around you. Perhaps, you could've been the slightest bit kinder on your approach, but then again, you really couldn't afford to be a pushover…
At least not to those that weren't bound to you through the system. "What about you?"
"…I beg your pardon?" He blinked, confusion written all over his face.
"How come you're here and out so late into the evening, young knight?" You addressed him with questionable fondness, your demeanour changing to that of a worried adult's. "A boy like you needs sleep to grow! Did you know?"
"…But I'm more grown than you." Charles perked up hearing your scolding, as if he were innately wired to argue against anyone that chided him with regards to his well-being. "Maybe you need some— oh- uh…wait, nevermind…"
"What do I need? Hm?" You urged with a closed eyed smile, an assertive approach you quickly came to regret when it had the averse effect on the boy.
"It's.. um, nothin'…" He muttered, shuffling his feet around and finding sudden interest in the ground below.
"…."
What..?
Did he seriously expect you to believe that? When he looked a short moment away from exploding into a puddle of guilt?
It's clear even he's hiding something from me…
"I see," sighing, you bottled your confusion to be investigated at a later time, choosing to instead guard him with an unfazed stare. A ruse to appear as if his abrupt withdrawal wasn't bothering you, when in reality, you were itching to pounce him for information. "Well, how come you're out so late then?"
"Uh— a, a walk!" He yelped, the lantern flickering as he swiped his nose, a movement that made his muddied fingernails visible.
"…You, are also out on a walk?" You rose a dubious brow, fighting back a scoff at his very believable alibi.
"Yes." The boy responded no further, perhaps fearing digging himself a grave.
But unfortunately for him, the moment he'd begun lying to you, he'd already set himself in the casket. After all, there wasn't quite an expert liar much like yourself, not to mention, your perception was far superior than that of others.
"I suppose that fits." You nodded with a contemplative hum, studying how his shoulders sagged with immediate relief at the notion of a 'successful' cover story.
"See? I was—"
"The knight of flowers, on his walk to deliver her Ladyship his evening bouquet…" You narrated sardonically as you tapped your chin in mock thought, the mortification growing on his face satisfying you more than you'd like to admit. "Yes, it surely is a sound story I believe in."
"No- no!" The boy shook his head fervently, his hidden hand finally emerging with a bundle of flowers you suspected he was carrying.
"No?" You mocked with an encouraging smile, tilting your head curiously as you watched him throw the blooms a far distance away from him— a poor resort at destroying his incriminating evidence.
"It wasn't me— it- it was," he stammered, eyes flailing about everywhere as he struggled to find his words in his plight of embarrassment. "It was Hugo's idea, not mine!"
"…."
What?
That, promptly wiped the grin off your face.
"H-Hugo's… idea?" It was your turn to be mortified, your earlier amusement now nowhere to be found, for his admittance — something you've been desperately searching for — has knocked the arrogance out of you.
A bout of silence ensued between the two of you, one Charles used to collect himself after his moment of humiliation before he nodded to make his point, the tufts of his pale blond hair bouncing from the sudden movement.
"Ye— yes…" Charles let out a small sigh of relief, secretly glad to no longer be the topic of discussion. "He's the one that told me about the— um, the flowers… he likes to read books!"
"Does he now..?" You blinked with weary, a heavy weight akin to defeat clinging to your shoulders.
"Yes! He's always reading!" The boy huffed, stomping his feet with pent up frustration. "Sometimes, he even reads nothing! Nothing!"
"I see…" You nodded absentmindedly, not really paying attention to his little rant, not when you could feel a familiar sickness pool in the pit of your stomach. "Then… was he, was he the one that often accompanied you in the library..?"
A heavy lump clung to your throat as the horrifying realisation slowly dawned upon you.
That day in the library, when you'd scolded Charles for constantly following you around, you'd also expressed your fury to another person. Someone who was hidden behind the tall bookshelves, someone you clearly couldn't identify, someone who turned out to be one of your love interests…
"Hugo—" You find yourself saying before you can think as you desperately reach out to the boy. "Where is he, where is—? Charles, where is Hugo?!"
"Huh?" He lets out a noise of surprise when your hands, shaky and forlorn, land on his shoulders. "Lady- my lady, are you cold?"
"Cold?" Your eyes scrunch as you try to consider his words, a task that is entirely too difficult for you who is clearly distracted with countless other things. "No, I, no… Charles— Hugo! Where is he!?"
You had to apologise to Hugo— quick! You had to appease his anger! If not, if not then- if you didn't do it now then you'd be punished by the system! It said, it said you would receive a penalty if you failed to win the affection of your love interests! And you, you were already in the negatives with Hugo!
This was terrible news!
"[Name]!"
"Eugh..."
You snap out of your spiralling at the sudden warmth that envelopes you. The boy's hands are around yours in an instant, the roughness of his fingers against yours a grounding presence, evening out your breath that is as heavy as your weighing thoughts.
The bright flame of his lantern engulfing your vision eases out, revealing his boyish expression that is infused with gut-wrenching worry. It quells all of your volatile fears for a short moment, even the hiccups of your wayward heart that are normally difficult to live with.
"You- you look pale…" He admits against himself, yellow eyes radiant like morning sunshine. "My lady, are you… feeling well?"
And you are reminded once more, that Charles is a child not bound by the system's rulings like everyone else is. The young knight's words are full of childish candour, they aren't woven with dishonesty like yours are, a realisation that painfully highlights your undying guilt.
"I'm— I am…" You struggle helplessly before succumbing to his quaint comfort. "..Fine… I'm fine."
You're okay.
Everything is well.
It's fine.
They're all cruel lies that you feed yourself, but because you are the master of deceit, you hope that one of them ends up fooling you somehow.
Just need an energy drink…
And somehow, because you were so determined to get your hands on an energy drink, you'd managed to convince Charles to 'join' you on your late evening stroll without any qualms.
While you wanted to do nothing more than kiss Hugo's ass in hopes to receive his forgiveness and be free from his fury, you were so close to acquiring caffeine, a substance you desperately needed to function. Aborting your mission now would simply be a waste, especially after you spent a painful amount of time coming up with a plan to reach the fountain of fortune.
So, sighing pitifully to yourself and looking off into the distance with a faraway gaze, whilst mumbling about how you wished there was a strong and honourable knight to accompany you on the rest of your walk was a foolproof way to have the boy offer his service on his own accord.
Of course, you felt a little bad taking advantage of his guilt once more, so to ease yours, you silently promised to yourself that it'd be the last time you would do something like this. Partly because after this, he'd finally feel as if he'd made it up to you, and thus, guilt tripping him would be a difficult effort, but also because the opportunity right now was just too good to let pass!
He was literally carrying a lantern for crying out loud! And with your sight now restored from what was basically pitch darkness, navigating around the terrain — that you spent an unreasonable amount of time memorising — to find the fountain with your treasure was as easy as stealing candy from a child!
And, after finally spotting the fountain that's been both the source of your nightmare and your wealth to come, you offhandedly made a comment about needing to take a break to rest your feet…
Which is exactly how you've found yourself in your current predicament.
Your slippers are off and forgotten to one side as you sit on the ledge of the fountain, and the length of your night gown is drawn up to your knees for easier access as you stretch your feet, an act that is seen as incredibly indecent from the adolescent boy beside you.
The stammers that pour out of him are a telling sign of his fluster, but despite his embarrassment that has him scrunch his eyes shut with comical effect, he's yet to skedaddle away like he normally would've. A gesture much appreciated, for the lantern is still in his hand, a guiding light that aids your search for the coin of wealth.
Sure enough, your endeavours bear the fruits of their labour.
There!
It's a realisation that brings ease to your heart and relief to your shoulders. Urging you to cast a quick glance at your protector for the night, ensuring that his sights are off of you, before your gaze returned back to the shallow water with impatience.
With one hand gripping the edge of the fountain tight, you're twisting your upper body to lean over the open water, your other hand stretches over to reach the coin that sits at the bottom with cruel mockery. The tips of your fingers run over the cool water, a temperature that pulls a short hiss out of you but nothing more.
So close…!
Your left hand is completely submerged now, and the edge of the coin teases the pads of your skin invitingly. But before you can get a good handle on its tiny surface, a gust of wind hits you, and its followed by—
"Boo."
"Argh—!"
You're losing your balance before you realise.
One moment you're gripping onto the ledge for dear life, but the unknown intrusion has startled you out of your wits, and you're— you're falling!
Right into that icy cold water again!
Again!
Though before you could brace for impact and accept your shameful reality, an arm — strong and heavy — hoists around your waist and pulls you back with force that knocks the air clean out of you.
"Caught you."
You let out choked gasp, you're arms flailing about for a short moment, a movement that draws attention to the loose ring around your finger.
Shit! My ring's falling off—
It slips and slips without any signs of stopping.
Your brows fly up with comical horror as it slips some more. Then, as if joining hands with fate to mock you, it slides off your finger and drops into the water with a short plop. A noise that is greatly overshadowed by the furious thumps of your heart.
You’d come all the way out here, and so late into the evening at that, to retrieve the gold coin that would feed your wealth to immeasurable amount... But instead of gaining anything, you were paying for your greed by losing something else of great value?
Could this get any worse?
And fate, taking that as a personal challenge, doesn't give you a chance to revel in the frustration of losing the ring that you've assigned all your future financial burdens to.
You don't even get a single moment to cry over spilt milk when the man, who was at primary fault, speaks again, his familiar voice ringing in your ears peevishly.
"My lady, it's unsightly that someone of your standing takes frequent baths in the fountain."
As if failing to collect the gold coin and losing your ring wasn't terrible enough, the system's notification, something that is clearly unable to read the fucking room, pings. Reminding you of the fact that all of your past efforts — to avoid being caught red-handed in the act of doing something you clearly weren't supposed to be fucking doing — have been in utter vain.
STATUS UPDATE:
[Vivien Hugo is relieved to have caught you in time. He doesn't want you to catch a cold again.]
[+10 love points]
[Current Progress: 20/150]
Wait— what?!
Hugo's love meter— it changed!?
comment to be added to taglist!
taglist: @vampy11x @akatuenk @shinoagriche @maryberry2711 @ieathairs @kimiiyoru @ameliascharisma @ccandiefloss @beepbopzlorp @tofumiarchives @nightshadekisss @penpennie @stmlucky @fairyofprose @oxlipinia @itoshirinlover @x3nafix @tamashithe2nd @vanillaadots @allieluvsh @imactuallyabouttocrashout @gluestik @ik33ponmakingc00ki3s @boba-rama @arisu79 @poetmiu @guluguluuu @yunisl @owltrace @charukii @crxwn-06 @ancientfragment @aveeniexoxo @n0tbelle @pookiei-bookie @renchai @nezha-x
discussion questions:
- what is mr charles hiding? he sort of gave it away...
- what happened to hugo's love meter???
- not a question, but it feels like this 'arc' keeps being longer than expected...
- anyways, hugo next chapter is on wild thinggg
kianamaiart
annaxmalina
yousharknotpass
ellievsbear
stormborns
