#I need to reveal fer so so bad...

[certifieddudette]

The insane urge to post the model I made for my new D&D character but I CAN'T cause my new party members follow me and they haven't met fer yet and it'd be a SPOILER

Ut i SO FUCKIN NEED TO SHOW FER I'M SO FUCKING PROUD RAAAAAH 😭😭😭😭

[holorform2009]

丂ｲﾑ尺ｲ

Pale and slender fingers carefully peeled the leaves one by one, delicately opening it slowly, aware of what is inside. Then a loud cry erupted once it revealed, inside were two little infants in the green tulip-like-leaf. One was a flower and the other is a leaf.

Both of their eyes opened and their gaze landed on a woman, their cries slowly fades into smiles and laughter upon seeing the woman and she can't help but softly smile to what she found in the forest. Gently, she picked the two infants in her arms she's thankful they're so little that she can easily hold them both but she is surprised how small these two can be. Both of them fit snuggly in her arms just right.

The one with flower giggled and the leaf one reached their tiny hands up to her face, the woman can't help but coo st the little ones. And so, she start naming them.

"I shall name you... █████ and [████]...."

When you opened your eyes the first thing that greeted you was a splitting head ache, making you groaned at the feeling like your head is about to split in half, you move your hand up to your head to massage your head ache only for you to feel a bandages around your head, you slowly sit up but then a metal bump into your forehead and you whined at the sudden impact making your head ache worse than it was before. You hear the grass softly shuffle and feel an awareness of presence not far from where you sat.

"Oh thank goodness, you're alive."

Startled by a man's voice you flinched slightly and he seemed to noticed it immediately. "Oop, Sorry fer startlin' ya kiddo. Din' mean to scare ya" you shift your gaze and saw a grey skinned man with a yellow-orange helmet and a dark grey hoodie. "Uhm.. Hi?" You suddenly feel stupid for saying that. "Don' worry kiddo, I don' bite." He chuckled lightly. " 's yer head fine? Ya hit yer head from that health dispenser." He pat his knees as he stood up and approached you, now crouching beside.

"I'm fine mister, thank you for asking. But.. where's coolkid..?" For a second he went silent before responding. "Tis nothin' to worry 'bout that boy, kiddo. Guest can handle him." He lift his hand to lightly pat your shoulder.

"Who is Guest.?"

You tilt your head at him. "Ah.. right, Guest was the one who brought ya 'ere to be healed. Said he found ya injured by coolkid's doin'." Oh... right you remember now. He almost stab you with his sword but he still got you injured by a brick if it weren't for Guest to save you, you would've been dead by now. He stood and moved away a bit to start placing one sentry beside the health dispenser.

The noise of building a sentry made you covered your ears by how loud it was, once he was done he looked over his shoulder only to see you covering your ears. "Oh! I din' know yer ears were sensitive, my bad."

You lowered your hands and shrugged "Oh it's okay but what is that?" You pointed at the machine. "That's called a sentry to shoot down the killer and it also alert us if he is nearby." Wait, killer? Who's he? Now that catch your attention.

"Killer..? Someone wants to kills us? Why?"

"Right, you din' know there's a sick game goin' on..." Now that got you worried when says it that way, he's expression changed to something pity as he looked at you. A child like you shouldn't be here, what kind of sick joke did IT do now? He thought to himself. "Me n' the others will try to explain to ya once the round 's over. Fer now we wait fer the time to reach zero." You nodded at his words, he then sat beside you as his legs were criss crossed.

"Say what's yer name kiddo? The names Builderman by the way." You looked up to him as you move your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around it.

"I'm [Name], it's nice to meet you Mister Builderman."

"Builderman 's fine kiddo, no need fer that yer makin' me sound like 'm old." He chuckled and ruffled your hair which you reacted by slapping his hand away. "Oh—" Surprised, he retracted his hand.

You averted your gaze, he was being so nice to you and you just slapped his hand like that? But you didn't like someone– especially a stranger you just met touching your head... only your mother is allowed to pat your head. "Sorry... I uh– don't like that." You muttered and didn't want to make eye contact with him anymore, embarrassed by your actions seconds ago. "That's alright, I should've asked fer yer permission."

"Builderman! There you are!"

Your ears perked up by a new voice so you looked up and see a man with yellow skin and a white shirt that says; 'Blame John' running up to said builderman and you. You wondered who is John... "I was looking everywhere for you and— who is that..." His voice trailed off as his eyes landed to your smaller figure beside builderman and his eyes seemed to widen in horror at the sight of you. "No.. It can't be..." He's not hallucinating that's a literal child he's looking at! IT is so cruel to the child, just what did they do to deserve this? They shouldn't be here at all...

"I know what yer thinkin' Shed'.." Builderman sighed as he look down at you and you looked back at him before immediately looking at the other guy, still in shame of what you did a minute ago.

"This poor little fella was found by Guest 'n brought 'em 'ere to me." He explained as he gestured his hands to you. "Elliot 's down so he came to me instead."

"They appeared in the middle of a round? IT is really heartless tonight." He furrowed his brow and gripped the handle of his sword tighter. "Well at least the timer 's 'bout to end." Builderman's expression changed. "How's Guest? The last time I saw him he was distractin' the killer." He eyed Shedletsky. "He's still alive, don't worry." As both adults talk to each other you silently stood up and move away from them a bit, all of this make your head hurt the more you keep hearing about this killer and round thingy. It's all confusing to you really.

You want to leave and go home already, you're feeling homesick all of the sudden. You let out a tired sigh as you feel the headache came back to you and it is becoming worse, then suddenly you hear the clock chimed throughout the atmosphere. When you looked up you saw a timer that reads; 0:00 you tilt your head at this. Is that the timer that builderman talked about?

Before you knew it your vision went black in a blink of an eye.

[dazedantics]

Book of Harvest - I

Dearest Y/N,

'Ow ya been Trick? Did ye miss us? I hope ev'rythin' 'as been well. All of us 'ave been pretty busy, our acts get a lot of attention 'n more want to see us perform. Th' troupe 'as just kept on growin' since I last saw ye too, one lad in particular is very sensational, 'as an act all of 'is own. And on 'is firs' day too! Can ye believe it? Was in a bad situation tha' one. I'm glad we were able ta 'elp. Snake, tha's what we call 'im. Curious 'bout 'is act, are ye? Well, give us a visit and see fer ye'self, ye'll be amazed I tell ya. Of course, we'll let ye in fer free, couldn't 'ave made it 'ere without ya, after all, an' couldn't be more greatful. Th' least we can do as thanks so don't think 'bout protestin'  ya hear! Anyway, ye've been busy too, right? Wish ye weren't, ye deserve to sit back 'nd unwind more'n anyone. I'd love ta holiday with ya one day, maybe go s'mewhere away from all the bright lights 'nd starin' crowds. Somewhere peaceful. Over the hills and far away don' sound too bad, eh? But tell me, what's yer job like? Ye didn't give much detail in yer last letter an' I'm interested in 'earin' more. Oh, an' 'ow's yer father? Still workin' at the 'ospitals? Ye should bring 'im along next time ye visit, I think our doc would 'ppreciate the company o' another doc 'ere again. Wish I could write ye more but I'm 'fraid I'm runnin' outta space on th' page. I look forward to yer next letter and 'ope ye the best.

P.S. It took a while ta decide what to get ye, but I think I found somethin' ye'll like

P.P.S. The others pitched in an' insisted on sending this, so hope yer not disappointed 

-J

You chuckled, pressing your fingers to your lips as you read the letter. The writing had gotten smaller as the sender tried to pack the rest of what he needed to say onto the page. 

"Each time we talk you end up writing more and more," you smiled, picking up the wrapped gift mentioned. "I can't now, but I'll definitely stop by for a visit when I have time."

It didn't take even a second for you to peel off the brown wrapping paper from the small, rose decorated box. Inside, there was a glass, puff perfume bottle, a raspberry colored liquid swirling inside. 

You took a whiff of the rose scented elixir, a fond memory of your first meeting with the man signed "J" crossing your mind.

"This must have cost a fortune," You sighed. "I won't let it go to waste, but I really can't just take it without paying you all back. I'll have something for each of you when I see you, I promise."

"What are you muttering about, Dearie?" A familiar voice called from across the dark room.

You folded the letter, tucking it away in your corset, and spritzed some perfume onto your wrists and neck. Maybe you should spray some of the perfume onto the next letter you sent as proof you used it.

Smiling, you walked over wrapped your arms around this silver haired man's waist, cheek resting against his back. "My friends' letter arrived. They sent a gift this time too. It's far too expensive though, so I'm thinking of getting them something in return. Do you have any suggestions, Undertaker?"

The Undertaker giggled and pressed one hand on top of yours. "I'm sure you'll find something they'll enjoy."

You hummed in response. "And what kind of gift would you like? I can't get them something and ignore you, now can I?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I want, Dearie." The Undertaker spun around to face you. "And it won't. Cost. You. A. Cent."

He captured your chin between his thumb and forefinger, long, black nails etching against your s/c skin.

You sucked in a breath, face warming as he forced you to look up at him. 

He leaned close, that contagious smile of his growing wider and more snide as his thick bangs hung like a curtain around you, revealing a perfect view of his enchanting chartreuse eyes.

That unique shade of lime green was bestowed upon a rare, unlucky few, a ring of it mixing into the e/c iris' of your own. You used to see it as a signal of unending misfortune. Until you met him and he made bad luck appear as something to be controlled.

"... Undertaker ...." You uttered, eyes flitting to his lips.

He let out a low chuckle, his chest reverberating against your own. "Give me the choicest laughter! You know exactly how perfect of a gift that'd be." His usual cheery laugh returned and he cupped your cheeks in his cold hands, rambling about what a joy being able to laugh is.

You wanted to be upset with him for teasing you at first, but couldn't help laughing along with him.

"Well, I haven't got any jokes now, but when I find a good one, I'll be sure to tell you, okay?"

He giggled. "Of course, Dearie."

You leaned forward, leaving a feather light kiss upon his soft lips.

His smile didn't fade and he simply caressed your cheeks with his thumbs until you pulled away.

You stood in a blissful silence for a moment, gazing at him lovingly until you remembered you each had a job to do.

"How's your work going today?" You asked, turning your attention to corpse resting in the delicately carved coffin behind the Undertaker.

"Smooth as always." The man said, leaning against the wooden frame of the girl's eternal bed. "Quite the interesting one, she is."

"Oh? How come?"

Undertaker glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a smirk resting on his lips.

He was expecting something.

"Aw, I told you I don't have a joke right now. Can't you at least tell me about this?"

He hummed remorsefully. "Sorry Dearie."

"Please, Undertaker ...?"

He tapped a thin nail against his lips. "I suppose this time I can accept other forms of payment from you, Dearie."

You smiled and eagerly gave him a kiss. "So? What's her story?"

The man leaned down, brushing the girl's bangs away from her closed eyes. "All of my customers are so lovely. I do what I can to make them even more beautiful. Each has a unique story to tell."

Your eyes followed as his hands moved to adjust the neckline of her dress. He was always so careful and attentive when taking care of his cadavers. If they all could see how well fostered they were in his care, you were sure they'd be swooning in their graves.

"Such a rare case. This one might just be the first of many."

"What do you mean?" 

Undertaker scrapped his fingertips against the wooden frame of the coffin as he stalked towards you. The sharp, skirtch, skritch, skritching of his nails started a shudder that coursed through your spine, your ears rang and you squirmed, fisting your skirt in your palm.

His cheshire grin proved pleased with your reaction. "A very important piece of them is missing. One you have all your own."

"And ... what piece would that be?"

A gasp escaped your lips as he suddenly gripped your waist, digging one long, sharp talon into the soft, delicate flesh just beneath your belly.

Then he leaned close, lips grazing against the shell of your ear and he whispered, "the one necessary for starting a family of your own. U~ter~us."

You released a shuddered breathed before leaning as far away as you could, trying to pry his claw from your gut.

"That ... seems like hard work."

He chuckled and moved behind you, chin resting on your shoulder, arms wrapping around you, looking down on the poor soul who had the unfortunate removal.

"Indeed. Very few could have done such a fine job. I believe someone like yourself could have done it if the situation prompted for it."

"... Right."

The strange man pressed his nose against your neck, inhaling deeply. "You smell heavenly."

"So you like it? It's the gift I was given. Perfume. Rose scented. I'll have to ask where they got it so I can keep wearing it when it's all used up."

"If you'd like to, Dearie. Now, tell me, who's fortunate soul is under your care today?"

"Oh, you already know I can't tell you, Undertaker. But, since you did tell me a bit about your work, I'll tell you this: tonight's soul belongs to someone of very high status. Things may end up disasterous if I don't handle them carefully. Speaking of which, I should really get going so I don't get stuck with overtime. I've been on Will's good side for so long, it'd be a shame if I messed that all up now."

You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before heading towards the front door, pulling on your caplet and tucking your baker boy cap into your skirt pocket.

"Dearie?" Undertaker's voice called, causing you to pause, hand lingering on the doorknob as you turned to him.

"Yeah?"

"Your soul is a precious one. Take good care of it."

Your heart seemed to melt at his words and you couldn't wipe the wistful smile off your lips as you nodded.

"Of course, Undertaker. See you in a few."

He waggled his fingers at you as you walked into the busy streets, shutting the door to his secret work behind.

You stood with your back against the dark wood for a moment, mind hazy with the Undertaker's smile and gorgeous eyes that partially reflected your own. 

"Ah, you truly don't know the extent of power you hold over me, Undertaker." You mused, biting your lip.

You shook your head in attempts to clear your mind of him, dusted off your long skirt, and started in the direction of the palace. Can't keep the Queen waiting now can you?

Maybe on the way back you could pen a reply to the troupe and look around for their gifts. 

That'd be nice wouldn't it?

Though you couldn't just get them one thing, Lord knows how they'd fight over it. But, what could you send that'd be enough for each of them?

Maybe some candy? 

They didn't have the chance to eat many sweets back then, so maybe they'd appreciate it now. Of course, you'd have to get them Funtom treats.

They are the best out there and not to mention their creator was sort of a fan favorite around here.

"Make note to visit Funtom after work," you murmured to yourself, turning round the corner. "Ah, sorry, excuse me."

You bowed politely towards the man you bumped into and continued down the road.

You didn't pay much attention to it.

But the man did.

He didn't say a word, golden eyes simply followed you until you disappeared into the crowd. 

...

Your soul ... it wasn't anything like the others he's encountered before. 

It was incomplete.

Instantly, his interest was aroused.  It didn't make sense how a soul could be not all there, but that was what made him intrigued.  It wouldn't fill him, no, but it would make for the most interesting meal he's ever had.  He could feel that it was seasoned with impurities and fears.  This made your soul delectable to him.  To his kind.

Yes, his kind.  

If anyone else like him were to happen upon you, they'd waste no time in trying to devour you.  He couldn't let that happen.

He wanted it. Your soul. You. For himself.

And he decided then and there that he'd do anything to have it.

°°°

It was dark by the time you had to be outside Victoria's window. The moon was full, shining brightly against the vast rooftops, a cool breeze blowing through the air.

It was a beautiful night out.

You'd need to spent a night up above the dusky streets like this with Undertaker sometime.

Picturing the moment, you smiled and unhooked your billowy skirt, slipping it off your feet.

You dusted off the pair of black slacks you always wore underneath and made sure your caplet was secured around your chest.

You took the cap from your skirt pocket and put it on, tucking all your hair securely inside of it. You tugged your black leather gloves on further, weilded your heafty death scythe and entered the queen's bedroom.

All was quiet as you pattered softly across the thick, carpeted floor. 

The room was neat and tidy, the gold tipped furniture glinting as you walked past, all of it no doubt due to the palace servants' diligent cleaning.

A room like this was a luxury not many had a chance to even see. It was gorgeous and serene.

But something was off.

You pressed on further towards the canopied bed.

The soul in here felt faint.

Red curtains rippled softly from the wind seeping through the ajar window.

You held your breath.

The queen was mighty important, reigning this long had to amount to something. Now, you were tasked with assessing whether she was a valuable living piece in society or if another could just as easily continue in her place.

A big weight on your shoulders, others' lives hang in the balance.

Did the other souls you collected always ebb like this? You couldn't recall.

You licked your lips and reached for the curtain.

One ...

Surely it was nothing,

Two ...

Right?

Three ...!

"She's not there."

You jolted back, spinning around to face where the voice came from.

In the far corner of the room you could see the silhouette of someone sitting in a chair. Their legs were crossed, the tips of their shoes glinting under the moonlight, the white hem of their pants swinging softly as they bounced their leg. 

The human soul you were sent for still lingered in the room, yet strangely enough, you couldn't sense the accompanying presence of this other person's soul.

You tightened your grip on your death scythe, "Who are you?"

"What's it matter? I'm supposed to be here. You are not." The person stood and began to walk towards you. "Though your type always assumes you're needed at a specific time in a person's life. What a nuisance."

They stepped into the light and you could make out the rest of their features. 

They were clad in a white suit with lilac and gold adorning them. Soft hair was dove white, their eyes a soft purple, gazing down at the black, ruffled doll sitting in their arms. A sheathed long sword lay at rest against their hip.

Against the rays of moonlight streaking around them, they looked almost angelic.

They looked up at you, a smile adorning their lips.

"It must irk you to have to leave so soon after making the trip here. But may you rest easy knowing I'm deciding to let you run free."

You'd have to deal with them to be certain, but duty first.

"How thoughtful. But, I'm afraid my orders are clear, sir."

You threw back the red curtains behind you and peered into the bedded cavern. 

There, laying amongst the fluffy pillows and heavy blankets ... wasn't a person in sight. The queen wasn't there.

That didn't make sense. You knew Victoria was in here. Her soul was faint, but it was in here.

The person chuckled and you turned back to them.

Were they hiding her?

"Where is she?"

"Oh, I've already told you she isn't there. As her devout servant it is my job to ensure her safety from any and all intruders. And it is in your best interest to leave now, I will not say it again, Half-ling."

Just who was this guy? 

You flipped through your bingo book, confirming the time and date of Victoria's death. Tonight at midnight. If you took any longer tiptoeing around the issue with this person you'd miss the scheduled time.

You pocketed the book again and glared at the person.

"Interfering with a soul is exactly what I don't need today. What have you done with her?"

Their smile fell and they narrowed their eyes at you. "Do you never heed sound advice?"

"I may not be allowed to interfere with your life if you're not on the list. But I still have a job to complete and I'd rather not do it with all the headache."

You hefted your scythe, took a step forward, and swung. 

Swish!

Immediately the person was behind you, a single hand holding onto the end of your scythe, keeping it in place. 

They were stronger than you.

You strained to bring it down, to get out of their grasp.

"Honestly, there is no end to the amount your type pains me." They tore the scythe from your grip and kicked you to the ground. 

Much stronger.

You grunted, quickly turning over and crawled away from them. Your back stung from the blow, forearms and knees burning from the sudden impact of slamming to the carpeted floor.

You kept your eyes focused on them as they twirled your scythe in their hand. The sharp blade glistened dangerously in the moonlight as they stepped forward.

"Quite the dangerous accessory for a young lady. You wouldn't mind my confiscating it, would you? Of course not."

You scowled and braced yourself, palms planted against the floor, leg stretched out to hit them. You spun quickly, then shot up in hopes of knocking them off their feet and gaining the upper hand.

"I'd think you'd have a little more manners than this."  

Their voice was a soft whisper in your ear. Soothing.

Right before they landed a heavy blow to your side.

You gasped, stumbling as you were thrown onto the bed, clutching your side. You already knew they couldn't be human since you couldn't sense them. And clearly they weren't reaper since they were hindering your work and didn't own those familiar green eyes. But they couldn't be demon either, or else they would've taken a swipe at your soul by now. So if not those, then what?

Red curtains were yanked from their mount with a chink! You'd need to end this soon before they got to you. 

Turn, throw the drapes, lunge, and reach for your scythe!

You acted swiftly, ending up behind them with hands secured around an item.

You brandished it at the person. 

Wait ... was that the doll?

You stiffened suddenly sensing a surge of Victoria's soul coming from it. But that couldn't be right, could it? The Queen was a normal human not a doll. Unless ... you looked up at the soul-less person in the room with you ... this being did something to her.

They tore off the sheets then looked around perplexed for a moment.  Then their eyes landed on their doll. And the air grew dark and still.

"Enough."

In one swift movement their hand was around your neck and they pinned you against the wall. 

"Let's see how you fare now."

And just like that, they let you go, leaving you coughing and heaving against the wall. They stabbed your scythe into the plaster, the flat of the blade gently kissing your ear.

They were even faster than you.

They grabbed a fistful of your hair, knocking your hat off in the process, and yanked you forward. 

"I don't take kindly to those who take without permission. I've come too far now to lose anything towards the likes of you or anyone else. It'd do me well to get rid of you. You are unclean beyond belief."

They were seething.

At this rate you'd just become another Jane Doe, an empty husk in the the ladder of the English empire. There was no way you could move fast enough to counteract them.

But then, they softened and lowered their hand to caress your cheek. 

"But I am a magnanimous being. And an angel must always give the wicked a chance to repent. I can help you, if you're willing to recieve."

You grit your teeth. "In your dreams."

They chuckled, dragging their hand down to your neck. With their teeth, they slipped the ash glove off their other hand.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice."

Then, they tugged on something you hadn't yet noticed adorned your neck.

And an indescribably pain shot through you, for a moment your mind seemed to numb and blank. You let out a guttural scream.

They hushed you gently, pressing the glove past your parted lips, muffling your cry. "Shh, sh. It hurts, yes? I must teach you obedience somehow. Don't worry, the pain will subside. Though I suggest you don't try to take off this ... pretty, little collar if you wish to avoid more anguish. Only I have the power to free you, much like I would free any other wayward soul from their wicked ways."

They released their hold on you, taking the fluffed up doll from your trembling hands.

One thought made it's way through the stinging haze: get away from them

You spat out the drool covered glove and yanked your scythe out of the wall with one harsh tug. Then, with bleary eyes and gritted teeth, you ran for the open window to escape them.

Only to come crashing to your knees with another anguished cry. The burning, stinging sensation pierced through your neck where the collar sat and was spreading through your entire body like wildfire.

It was unbearable. 

"You'll be punished for any action I do not warrent. Each time will become more painful than the last."

You tried to claw at the collar, feeling the coarse leather and sharpened spikes beneath your leather clad fingertips. But also feeling the same intolerable burn seeping into your finger pads. Aching hands reached for the clasp. But there wasn't one. The collar encased your neck completely, coiling around you with no way to get it off by any means of your own. And the longer you kept pulling at it, the more unbearable the pain was. You had to let go.

But the pain persisted.

"STOP! MAKE IT STOP!"

The angel tucked the pretty doll in the crook of their arm, brushing back it's long gray hair gently. "You'll do as I say now, won't you?"

You nodded mindlessly.

Anything but that searing pain.

"Good, seems you can learn. There may be hope for you yet. I look forward to your cooperation, Half-ling."

And just like that, the blinding pain was gone. You slumped against the floor with a shaky breath, trying to get your bearings, scythe laying uselessly on the ground next to you.

They turned with a flourish, sitting back down in the plush chair once more, singing to the living doll in the most angelic voice you'd ever heard. Comforting the carefully crafted porcelain as if it was the most dear thing in the world to them. Listening, you could almost forget the intense pain they had inflicted on you just seconds ago.

But that was just it. 

Without the voice smooth as silk or tender hands softly caressing the plaything in their arms, this angel was simply a fierce monster, interfering with human life with no regard for the path they were originally intended.

"London Bridge is falling down, falling down ...,"

One of the fallen.

"Falling down ...."

[hatefueled]

"  uhm   …  i  wanted  to  give  you  something.  "  as  thanks  ,  was  left  unsaid.  gaze  dipping  to  their  feet  as  she  stands  before  the  ranger  ,  unusually  skittish  in  a  way  she  hasn't  been  in  weeks  since  accepting  her  place  in  this  quaint  ship.   she  hears  the  telltale  echoes  of  his  steps  ,  can  vaguely  make  out  where  he  stands  when  it  ceases  and  she  didn't  have  to  see  to  know  that  he  can  easily  tell  that  she's  hiding  something  behind  her  back.  subtlety  was  never  a  strength  she  possessed  ,  and  its  this  thought  that  prompts  her  to  reveal  the  small  pouch  cradled  'tween  warm  palms.  the  small  bells  attached  to  its  red  ribbon  chiming  with  the  abrupt  movement  ,  "  its.  .  .  an  amulet.  a  real  one  ,  for  protection.  "  she  says  ,  brows  furrowed  as  she  keeps  her  eyes  on  her  hands.  "  i  bought  it  on  our  last  stop.  i  even  checked  if  it  was  real  first  !  i  thought  you  should  have  one  with  you  ,  so  you  won't  get  hurt  on  your  next  job.  "  even  if  he  says  that  he  doesn't  need  it  ,  even if he's stronger than anyone else she's ever known. but  still  ,  its  the  least  she  can  do─── especially since he never asks for anything in return. " you keep me safe , so ... i thought this could return the favor , even just a little. its uhm ... shaped like one of your medals. i thought you'd like it── but it only works once ! so , you can't be reckless and waste it. " \\\ from hestia .. the dotter ,,,,, late bday gift.... just a gift maybe......

Hestia has been an adjustment for him; someone to return to whenever he was finished with his 'work'. Work pertaining of course to his mission against the IPC- to make him their problem, as he claws and fights for every lick of information he can on one Oswaldo Schneider. Despite himself, and his recklessness, he has done whatever it takes to return in one piece. Knowing that if he didn't come back, if he didn't make it, then she'd be left alone on his ship. Capable as she is... he can't help but worry what might happen. What would she do? Who'd help her? Gaining her trust, and in kind her gaining his- has been a long process. But plenty worthwhile in every way. He doesn't call for her when he returns this time. Knows she can hear him with how heavy his steps tend to be. Met with... well. Hestia really isn't good in the art of subtlety... she looks suspicious.

Though suspicion gives way to surprise quickly enough.

" Fer me? " a curious lilt to his tone. Stays quiet as she shows him what she has, and offers it to him. Explains herself, and fumbles in ways any child might. And as it grows more clear to him- his expression grows softer.

At first, he considers joking about not needing it. But this was a gift being given with a lot of thought, and intent behind it. He can deny it all he wants but... he is her guardian isn't he? In some way he has come to care for her the same he might of... well. It'd be in poor taste for him to refuse her. That she even ensured it looked like something he already wore, to prevent it standing out too sharply. Maybe if he still had a heart that could feel it, it might grow heavy there. He can imagine it, the grip of emotion outside the small lurch in his thoughts. It isn't all bad.

" This is a very thoughtful gift... thanks kiddo. " reaching to take it. And with it he brings her in, to curl an arm around her shoulders. Careful not to throw her too far off balance- to keep her steady. " I'll be sure t'use this wisely. It'd be a shame wastin' somethin' as precious as this. " a heavy exhale quickly follows, as if breathing away the sudden wash of emotion in his mind. " And hey- not a scratch or scrape on me this time 'round. So how 'bout we treat ourselves to some good food. I may not be able to enjoy food the same, 'n this ships kitchen is shit- but I know how t'cook. Promise. Jus' tell me what yer feelin' and I'll make it work with what we got. "

unprompted ( bday gifts!! )

[intcritus]

red eyes soften as scarred hands carefully lift up the fluffy furball that's been snuggling up upon his leg, carefully handling the tiny rabbit as though it would break from a single wrong motion as his expression softens, his smile turning nostalgic as antoine turns to face yae. "y'know, 's funny, ye'd assume when i was livin' in th' woods small critter 'n the likes would've avoided me, 'n yet rabbits always scuttled to me and slept 'round me 's if 'm some sort of rabbit guardian." he muses, smiles fondly when he scratches the little furball under its chin, gaze focused on the animal when he continues to speak, voice still soft, warm in a tender way that reveals the peace he feels right now.

"people usually react with fear when they first see me, 'cause i look like a brute. doesn' matter if i help 'em or not. it takes time for folks to warm up t' me, t' the point i used to think there was somethin' wrong wit' me. 's if 'm some sort of terrible monster." he explains, tone shifting into something along a sort of humming before he finally looks up, adoring gaze landing on the kitsune. "thank ya' fer provin' me wrong. 'n fer makin' me understand that i can love 'n be loved. thank ya' fer allowin' me t' love ya." he finishes, still gently scratching the rabbit underneath its chin as it dozes off in his arms.

as a kitsune, yae miko was quite aware just how animals treated people in their territories. they had a feel for those who meant them harm, those who needed the companionship and those who simply belonged. antoine belonged among them, sure he could be a little feral, but the gentleness he exhibited was inherent, he came across an animal and they instinctively knew he meant them no harm. and thinking back to their first meeting, yae miko liked to to think that she knew this, even when he wanted to fight ei, she didn't get any bad vibes from him.

and loving him ? being loved by him ? it was like being struck by lightning, all consuming and a zing through her blood but the gentle way he handled her, like she was something precious always took her breath away. his gaze is so warm and loving when he looks at her, and ears flick, teeth sinking into her lower lip, gaze dropping to the fluffy creature within his grasp. ❝ ━ people can be scared of many things. but not of you. you're wild, and they sense that, so maybe they're unsure, not scared. you've always struck me as some big, teddy bear. ❞ not that his bite wasn't worst than his bark, but antoine could probably pummel plenty but his hands were always gentle. ❝ ━ archons, don't thank me for that, you were always capable of being loved and loving someone. ❞ she's not blushing, absolutely not but archons, the nerve this man had to make her heart flutter so hopelessly. her ! the all elusive head shrine maiden ! ugh, he was making her so soft. not that she's complaining, not at all. only he saw this side of her.

sauntering over to him, yae miko gently ushers him down, lips pressing to his cheek, ❝ ━ and i do love you, antoine. and others do as well, just not as much as i do, because you're mine and loving you has bought me more joy in my heart than i've had the last 500 years and i want to thank you for that. for being in my life and giving me something to look forward to. ❞ / @msftsn

[judesmoonbeauty]

𝕁𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕁𝕒𝕫𝕫𝕒'𝕤 𝕄𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪: ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟙𝟛

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

As we return from the fireworks, the sound of footsteps creeps closer to us.

Nica: Hallo, Jude and cute rotkehlchen?

T/L: Hello/Robin

(Nica…..)

Jude: You again. Vogel seems’ta have lotsa free time, I’m jealous.

Nica: Well, I’m jealous with how carefree you are going to the beach with your friends.

(How did he know what we were doing?)

(Plus..…)

I gasped softly when I noticed an unusual air around Jude.

Nica: I warned you the other day, but you still won't let go. Guess you decided to involve them.

Nica: That means Kate also has a right to know. So, here’s the latest intel.

Nica stares at me and I slightly tilt my head in confusion.

(What does he mean by not letting go or getting involved?)

Nica: It looks like the British military and the crime syndicate have finally established contact.

Jude: …………

(Crime syndicate.…they’re the ones who attacked Jude that night.)

[Flashback]

Stranger’s Voice: The difference between a rocket or a missile is whether or not it has a warhead.

Stranger’s Voice: We plan to manufacture missiles based on your experimental research reports and blueprints.

[Back to present]

Jude is researching how to go to the moon in order to fulfill a promise he made to his sister.

Meanwhile, the crime syndicate is looking to use the research for their own nefarious purposes.

Their objective is likely arms development for profit.

(But -)

Kate: ….Why the British military?

Jude: Weapon’s a weapon, they’re probably thinkin’ of usin’ it fer militaristic purposes.

Nica: Maybe they realized that even though their ultimate goals are different, the approach they take should be the same.

Nica: It would be amusing to see them collude, reach their goals, and then kill each other, but….

Nica: What's important now is that the Syndicate and the British Army are working together to crush you.

Nica calmly stated the terrifying truth.

Jude: Thank ya kindly fer the valuable intel. I’ll be sure t’not get accident’lly crushed.

Nica: Ahaha, do that. It’s no fun if you get crushed so easily.

Nica: So, as for the fee of a this quality intel…..

Nica: Let’s go on a date, rotkehlchen.

Kate: Come again.

In an instant, he had his arm around my waist, and while I was confused with his practiced movements, I slowly slipped out of his arms.

Kate: Thanks for invitation, but I must decline.

Kate: That information alone isn’t enough to buy me.

(That day, Jude didn’t laugh at my insignificant dream.)

(I wonder why, but I’ve started to feel like I need to cherish myself a bit.)

Nica: Ahaha!

Nica: How nice…I like strong-willed girls. But I like it even more when they can hide the trembling in their voice.

Kate: ….!

Nica: Call me if you need more information and next time include a date.

Nica departed with a smile.

Like a black swan, his figure instantly melted into the night.

[Transitions to Crown a different day]

(What the hell is Nica trying to achieve by giving us that information?)

(Well, more importantly….)

Kate: Jude, everything Nica said is true, isn’t it.

Jude: If it’s all a lie, then Vogel’ll give themselves away.

Here, Jude uses “osatogashireru,” which is an expression used for those who: reveal their poor upbringing (through bad manners, etc), betray one’s origin, or to give oneself away. I decided on giving themselves away since Harry has stated they are hiding something.

After spitting that out, he shoots me a warning look.

Jude: Truth or not, doesn’t matter.

Jude: Crown ain’t got nothin’ to do with my research or this incident.

Jude: So, as fairytale keeper ya ain’t gotta obligation to write it down.

(And again, this guy….)

I feel like the closer I get, the more distance he puts between us……

Kate: …..I’m not leaving you.

Jude: Know that, yer like a broken record. Sick o’ hearin’ it.

(No matter what anyone says, I knew precisely what Jude was saying.)

Kate: “By the time I finish being the fairytale keeper, I will find something to like about you.”

Kate: You and I are stuck together until then Jude. Our promise is absolute, isn’t it?

Truthfully, I have already found what I like about him.

But in order to stay by his side, I hid my feelings.

Jude: What’s that smug look. You a dog waitin’ to be pet?

Jude: If yer gonna do whatever ya want anyway, then do it.

Jude: But….

He closes the distance between us, and touches my chin with his slender fingers.

Jude: It’s bothersome when someone hangin’ ‘round me turns into a pitiful corpse.

His thumb moved and touched my lips.

Amethyst eyes stare down at me.

Jude: Call. Yer good at chirpin,’ yeah?

Kate: What do you mean by call….

Jude: My name ‘course…..Go on.

Kate: ……..Ju…Jude….

Jude: Can’t hear that misquito buzzin’ voice, can I?

His thumb split my lips and invaded my mouth.

Kate: Mnn…..Ahn……

Jude: What, can’t call someone’s name?

Kate: Jude……!

Jude: That’s it. Ha, whadda messy face.

With a sadistic smile the finger was pulled from my mouth.

Jude: How can ya feel good from someone shovin’ their finger in yer mouth t’discipline ya, pervert.

While panting, I glared at Jude.

Kate: Sticking your finger into someone’s mouth is WAY more perverted, you sadist!

Jude: Says the ordinary masochistic pervert.

(If you say ONE thing, he’ll tease you with TEN.)

I was already aware that Jude was trying to keep me from danger.

That’s why I was instructed to call his name.

— But.

Maybe I didn’t truly comprehend what Jude was saying.

The next day, Ellis and I visited Lulipia as promised to Jude.

On the way home after successfully concluding the contract...

Ellis: Come to think of it, that cat seems to be doing well.

I recall the white cat that we looked after for a while until an adoptive home was found for it.

Kate: Oh, did you go and check on it?

Ellis: Yeah, Jude told me to.

(…….Jude.)

The old me would have been surprised, but now I'm not surprised at all.

Kate: I know he's not going to like it when I say this, but .....

Kate: Jude’s a man with a strong sense of duty.

Ellis: Yeah, he’s taking care of me after all.

Kate: Heehee, I think you’re taking care of him, Ellis.

After conversing with smiles, Ellis abruptly said -

Ellis: But isn’t that painful?

Kate: What is?

Ellis: The more you cherish something, the more it becomes part of you and the harder it is to forget.

Ellis: I really don’t know.

When I looked up, Ellis’ face was dyed in the twilit sun...I couldn't see his expression very well.

When I returned to Raven Ltd.….

Theodore: Oh, this’s terrible! The president!

Theo seemingly panicked, comes rushing over.

Kate: Please calm down, Theo. What happened with Jude?

Theodore: Ya know that company president who was brutally beaten by the boss for breachin’ his contract.

(Umm….)

To be honest, I can't narrow it down to just one face that comes to mind.

Ellis: There’s too many to remember, but what's happening with that person?

Theodore: He suddenly gotta message.

Theodore: Said, "You have a sister who has gone missing. If you come alone to the specified location, I will tell you where she is."

(Sister..…)

It's obvious that this is bait to summon Jude for revenge.

Kate: Is Jude alone per chance….?

Theodore: I tried to stop him, but when the president poked me in the forehead, I suddenly fell asleep.….

(He even used his cursed power on Theo!)

Jude used his ability to put Theo to sleep and took the opportunity to go alone.

And other person spitefully pried into his past.

(But….)

(More than anything, Jude knows his sister passed away a long time ago.)

Kate: Unforgivable…..

I am so angry at the way they are rubbing salt into Jude's wounds, but at the same time I thought.

(……Why is Jude alone.)

Kate: Theo, please tell me where Jude went.

Ellis: Yeah, we have to go after him.

Theodore: Ya can’t! If ya both stuck innit…..

Kate: We won’t die.

Kate: We won’t die because we’re villains.

If "fighting evil with evil" is Crown's mission.

Then the fairytale keeper who records how they commit evil….will also be tainted with evil.

When we rushed to the specified location, it was a picture of hell.

(Everyone’s covered in blood and out cold….)

Ellis: Looks like Jude took care of it by himself.

Kate: Where is Jude……

I couldn’t see him anywhere.

Ellis: I’ll take care of these guys. Kate you take care of Jude.

Kate: Yeah, leave it to me.

(Jude, where….?)

(Please, please be safe.)

As I was running along the harbor praying, I spotted a small flame in the night.

(Oh….)

It burns quietly in the fingertips of someone lying on the ground, looking up at the moon.

With each step, I get closer……

Kate: …..Jude.

As I knelt on the sand, amethyst eyes looked up at me…..and Jude naturally rested his head on my lap.

In his hand, the cigarette lit up like an ember from a firework.

Jude: Yer real persistent. How far ya gonna chase after me.

Kate: ….Your wounds, do they hurt?

When I asked him the exact same question that Jude had asked me before, his thin lips curved gently.

Jude: Doesn’t hurt.

Kate: …..Liar.

Jude: Don’t lump me in with ya.

Kate: Everyone feels pain…..when they get hurt.

Jude: Don’t push yer opinions on me, it’s annoyin’.

Kate: ……Jude.

Jude: What is it?

—This person.

Kate: In order to keep your promise to your sister, I think it's best not to make any enemies.

Kate: And yet, and yet….You intentionally try to cross a dangerous bridge.

“Intentionally” choose to use such cruel and ruthless methods.

“Intentionally” amass grudges.

Thus, in this circle of hatred he lives with a cruel smile on his face.

Jude: ……Whaddya sayin’.

(I’ve thought this……all along.)

(I tried to brush it off, but couldn’t.)

His life burns fiercely like a firework or a cigarette’s light.

Jude’s shouting at the moon, holding onto an absurd dream.

But sometimes unexpectedly feels hopeless.

(In actuality, Jude…..)

(He actually….)

Kate: Do you want to give up already?

Jude: …………

Jude: What if I did.

(…..Yeah, thought so….)

My chest feels tight.

Resentment, hatred, shouting..….

Even so, what was lost in this world can never be returned.

You’re festering with the promise you can't forget.

(I know it's unfair and selfish to say this.)

(But still…)

Kate: I don’t…..want you to give up.

Jude: ….Ha, s’fussy.

Jude: Don’t want someone who’s all talk tellin’ me what to do.

Kate: So, as long as it’s not all talk, it’s okay?

The cigarette ember, which had been flickering in the darkness, suddenly went out.

Jude: ……No.

Jude is using polite teinego language in his rejection, so I simply decided to translate the rejection as "no".

[Main Story Master List] [Chapter 13 Side Story]

If you wish to be added (and 18+ YO), or removed from my translations tag list, please let me know!

Tags: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @yuoi-the-magnificent @husbandosandladders @nawlink @justgiulia @vickietickie @greedyqueensfavourite @sharigax @belphiesleftpinkytoe @reimy1164 @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @goustmilk @kraiyne @midnightsrunaway

[despairforme]

She was sitting there on a wooden bench in a park, next to him, feeling a bit uncomfortable. It wasn’t about him at all; rather about what she wanted to ask him. She was trying to ask him that question since they had met today, but there was something that stopped every time she attempted. And it wasn’t even that the question was really embarrassing: --

“Nnoi…” – she finally started – “We’re friends, aren’t we?” – she wanted to ask him a favour, and friends would sometimes help each other, right? Not that they were really friends. Not yet anyway; she assumed.

“There is this party I need to attend next Friday evening.” – she finally moved her head to look at him – “I would be gossiped about, if I come alone… Are you… Will you consider going there with me?” – there! She finally said it. It was not that difficult after all. Hopefully, he’d not consider that an invitation for a date.

They hadn't spent that much time together. She was one of his newer friends, or whatever. How come he made so many female friends? It was weird as hell. Then again, maybe women just couldn't help but be attracted to bad guys. Wasn't that how the cliche went?

Anyways.

He and Nunnally were sitting on a park bench. It was another sunny day, and Nnoitra was sipping away at his third slushy of the day. He was shit at reading social situations, but he thought she'd been acting kinda... Weird today. Like she was insecure or worried or like she was feeling awkward. It didn't bother him, since he hardly ever felt awkward.

Finally, it seemed like the mystery of her mood would be revealed to him. She addressed him in an uncertain, yet serious tone. He wondered what she'd ask of him. We're friends, right? That was the sort of thing someone said before asking a favour. Anyone who knew Nnoitra knew that he was not the most helpful guy. You'd have to give him something in return in order for him to "be there" as a friend.

In the end, what she asked of him was to go with her to a party. Nnoitra arched his brow, and tipped his head. He still had the straw in his mouth and he slowly sipped in some more slushy, the blue semi-liquid colouring the straw. Hm. A party, huh? He actually didn't mind parties. Even though he was not a social guy, he enjoyed both dancing and music and - of course - FREE DRINKS! Or free food, depending on what kinda party it was. He'd never in his fucking life been to a formal party. Was THAT the sort of party she wanted him to go to? People would "gossip" if she went alone? That could only mean... She wanted them to go as a date right? Or just as friends? Either way, Nnoitra was game as long as he got free stuff.

❝ Ya mean as a date or just friends? I can be yer date 'fer a night. 'S there gonna be free food? Drinks? ❞ She'd clearly been nervous to ask him, and in return his tone was completely casual, like it was no big deal to him. Which it wasn't.

[gethellbcnt-m]

@hzbinsouled screamed : ❝ 'Ey, Andy… Y'know… my hands are awful cold right now… ❞ Angel Dust pipes up, feigning a little pout. ❝ Ya think I could hold ya hands fer a li'l bit~? ❞ He gives him a pleading look, though there's a hint of something mischievous behind it. No matter that he's wearing his gloves like always, he's still asking. It is actually a ploy to get the other to give in just so he can play with the soft spots on his hand. //he demands the BEANS, RIGHT this moment thank u

This whole redemption thing might not be so bad. sure, Andy's more of an extra custodian than someone who was willing to do anything it takes to get to those pearly gates, but the Princess's encouragement is motivation enough to keep the feline sticking around -- among the other various members of the hotel's strange menagerie.

❝ well, tha jus' ain't right. ❞ Lounging demon comments lazily from his place on one of the lobby's comfy couches, sitting up as he's approached by the spider demon. currently, the ginger is on break, and Angel's little requests were usually harmless enough, and with the way that the other looks at him with those pleading eyes, Andy needs very little convincing to aid the actor in whatever problem that happens to be ailing him.

❝ i'll help ya out, lad. ❞ Off come the gloves, slowly but surely, plucked from his paws by the digits. normally, he isn't so keen on exposing the palms and pads of his hands so freely -- he could injure someone with how hot they can run sometimes, given that the cat demon can be considered a walking furnace of sorts -- but a quick warming of the hands won't hurt, he supposes.

When Andy is offered Angel's chilly hands, concealed paws reveal pads that resemble the bright orangey-reds of molten lava, glowing and glinting in the lights of the lobby. his pale hands, much bigger than the arachnid's lengthy digits, easily envelop pink and white gloves. regardless, the black-eyed cat is tender with rubbing and warming the other's hands, his undivided attention held willingly captive by the spider as his hands massage heat into the pink-eyed man's chilled hands, a velvet-soft smile on the old cat's muzzle...

❝ there we are.. does tha feel aw'right ? ❞

[cursedvessels]

He's somewhat relieved that she's taken his words enough to accept the cup of tea offered to her, to even sip it without question. Perhaps she's still suspicious, but at least he hasn't completely ruined her trust--or her interest in the loft.

"I do! 's one'a my favourite t'in's t' grow, actually." A nod as he glances over at her, pushes open the door to the loft space with a hand. He guides her inside with ease, stopping near the door and leaning casually against the wall. Arms fold over his chest, an ever-present smile on his face as he watches her peruse the space. He sips silently at his tea, smirking a little to himself at her compliment. He chuckles.

"Yes, well..." A shrug. "I try t' keep 't ready fer anyone who might need it..." Besides, the furnishings had been inexpensive--old, but well cared for and kept clean. The whole space was kept very clean and tidy since he took care of it even when there wasn't anyone staying up there. Cleaning was one of those very therapeutic acts he took to very seriously when he was stressed or tired or angry. It was a good way to get out bad energy, release the tension and build-up in a healthy, positive way. There's even a few paintings on the wooden walls and a handmade wooden coffee table in front of the vintage couch left in the open sitting space.

Fingertips tap on the edge of his mug a little in thought when she asks about rules. Brows furrow for a moment. "Well...I have a contract written up with all 'f th' standard things," he admits. "Y'know...Courtesy with noise an' such, but..." He gives a shrug as he sips at his tea again, shaking his head. "Other t'an 'at, just make yerself comfortable an' if ya need anyt'in' I'm right around the corner..." A small gesture back toward the stairs that led down to the door to his own living space just before the flight down to the shop.

"I don' remember 'f I mentioned already, but there's a back exit as well..." He crosses the room to the small back door just past the kitchenette. Nudging it open reveals the stairs that lead back down to the ground outside. "So I do ask ya keep 't all locked up, obviously..." If not just for her own safety and the safety of her belongings, for his own as well since the shop itself had easy access from the living spaces.

"Cost 's sort 'f..." He squints, the corner of his mouth pulling upward as he waves a hand in a so-so gesture. "I try t' be fair, ya know. Case by case. Whatever y' can afford. On average, though, about $800 a month?" He shrugs. Of course, he kept the cost low with ease since the small space didn't require much electricity and trash went out to the dumpsters round back anyway. The water bill could get a little pricey here or there, but the hot water was limited to keep it reasonable--he enjoyed a cold shower himself most days, anyway. Of course, it also helped that he was a homebody, kept to himself, and wasn't easily bothered by the potential chaos other tenants sometimes brought. Runes and magic seals kept out noise, protected his belongs, and the rest of the shop, so...

"It's really pretty relaxed here. I try ta make sure'a dat..."

As Arin laughed, her smile grew more pronounced, a small effort to maintain calm until he clarified- for pest control. Of course. She inclined her head slightly, electing not to comment right away. There was no need to ruffle feathers. The mention of nettle helped- a familiar plant and a fitting example, really, of what she’d meant when she asked if he kept poisonous things.

“Ah. I see.” It was an easy answer. Polite. Neutral. But it did little to soften the unease quietly unfurling in her chest. After all, most things capable of killing a pest could just as easily dispatch a person.

Her eyes trailed his hands as he worked- efficient, practiced, unhurried. She noted the flask with particular interest. Lemon and honey were expected. Milk and sugar, sure. Whiskey was…not. A curious flourish. A small addition that painted the edges of his portrait in warmer, more ambiguous tones. Scottish, with a kind face. Sells poison. Takes alcohol with his tea.

Accepting the mug, she took a sip. The blend was pleasant. Comforting, even. “Thank you,” she said lightly, cradling the warm ceramic between her fingers. Her eyes flicked over the shop’s eclectic layout as they moved toward the stairs. “Do you grow your own tea leaves here?”

As they reached the landing, she gave the loft a slow, sweeping glance- taking in the kitchenette, the tub, the modest furnishings. It was charming in its own way, a little worn around the edges but not without appeal. Comfortable. Unpretentious. Much like him. “You weren’t joking,” she said at last, glancing back toward him. “It really does have everything.” Save a bed- but she could easily manage that.

With another sip, she ventured further inside, thoughts quietly turning over how her life might fit into the space. It wasn’t large by any means, but for the city, it was more than enough. A few clever adjustments, and it could feel like home. Cozy, even. “I don’t think I need to see the greenhouse,” she said, turning on her heel to face him again, eyes lingering on him a beat too long. “So…what are the rules?”

Paranoia offered a few of its own. Something along the lines of: Don’t open any jars. Don’t touch unfamiliar plants. Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to. Were these concessions she was willing to make? Well…

“And how much is rent?”

[woman-of-balnain]

Hey was just wondering if you could do one for Arthur being in the saloon and his wife is also there and the guys he’s with are teasing him about how single he is and Arthur’s like bet I can get the girl to leave with me and there like there is no way in hell that woman would leave with you but she’s his wife and Arthur downs his drink and walks up to his wife like hello gorgeous, how would you like to ride home on a real cowboy I got a six pack of cold ones and my roomie is out all night so you can scream my name as loud as you need to sugar and they walk out together and everyone’s gobs smacked and the readers like will you just stop and tell people I’m your wife and Arthur’s like nah I love the surprise on there faces when the see a beautiful woman like you wants to date me plz

Masterlist | A03 Ver.

Title: The Fine Art of Flirtatious Conversation

A/N: So, I hope this is okay, anon! I got from the tone of the request that it was supposed to be funny but I’m not the best at comedy hahah still, I tried and I thought it’d be funny if Arthur purposely used really bad pickup lines on the reader lol but yeah don’t take it too seriously I guess? 😅

Requests are still open, so feel free to send them through if you have any 😊

Warnings: Really bad pickup lines? 😂 No use of Y/N / Reader's name etc.

Word Count: 1,662

Divider by: newlips

Arthur was walking through camp and thinking about you. He headed for his horse, your letter tucked safely away in his satchel and he was about to head into town. The sun was hanging low in the sky and it wouldn’t be long before dusk hit.

He had asked you to meet him, since he was close by to where you lived and he’d been missing you something fierce. Now that he knew you’d made it into town, he was looking forward to some quiet time, just the two of you. And he planned to make up for the period you’d been apart, letting the rest of the world fall away while he reacquainted himself with you and -

“Arthur, where ya headin’ off to?” A thick Irish accent interrupted his thoughts.

Arthur inwardly groaned as Sean came up to him, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with intrigue.

“Nowhere, just into town,” Arthur reluctantly revealed.

“Yer goin’ to the saloon, I bet,” Sean correctly assumed. “I’ll come wit’ ya.”

“No-”

But it was too late and Arthur sighed as Sean called out to the others.

“Who wants to have a drink, fellers? Arthur’s payin’ fer the first round!”

“What-”

“Sure, I’ll come,” John piped up.

“Yeah,” Javier added quietly. “I could use a drink.”

Great.

But then Arthur saw Uncle about to chime in and he definitely wasn’t having that fool interrupt his plans too.

“Hurry it up then,” he told the others. “I ain’t waitin’ for you.”

He approached his horse and was quick to mount up into the saddle. Thankfully, the three tagalongs were quick enough to do the same before Uncle could manage to get off his ass and make a case to join them as well. As they rode out of camp and headed for town, with Sean talking their ears off the entire time, Arthur lamented over his spoiled plans with you.

When they entered the saloon, you hadn’t arrived yet. Leaning on the bar with the others, Arthur begrudgingly paid for the first round. Then, when the doors of the saloon swung open again, every pair of eyes in the room seemed to fall on your figure as you stepped inside.

Your own eyes, however, fell straight onto him and a smile began to curve up at the corners of your lips. Arthur just gave a subtle shake of his head and he didn’t miss the way you seemed to let out a sigh, but you still played along, looking away from him. Sean was quick to sidle up to you when you came to the bar, intending to order some food.

“Well, love, yer a pretty thing ain’t ya?”

Arthur watched from the corner of his eye as you gave Sean a disinterested glance.

“Let me buy ya a drink,” Sean continued. “I’ll show ya a good time.”

So, now you’re payin’? Arthur inwardly grumbled.

“No, thank you,” was your simple, but polite reply.

Your food was placed on the counter then and you took it before walking off to sit at one of the tables. Sean watched you with a look of shock, as if he’d never been turned down before (he definitely had) and Arthur couldn’t help but let out a light laugh.

“You’ve gotta ease into it,” Javier advised the young Irishman. “Take your time, not try and get under her skirt in the first five minutes.”

“That’s bullshit,” John cut in. “I’ll bet she’s just got enough sense to stay away from a feller like you, Sean.”

“I’ll have you know,” Sean argued. “The ladies have never complained before.”

“Not to your face at least,” Javier snickered.

Arthur couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as well and the smile never left his lips because he knew the real reason you’d turned the poor kid down. You’d never once, ever since meeting Arthur, had eyes for anyone else. Let alone even harmlessly flirted with another man. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit smug about it.

“What‘s so funny, English?” Sean turned to Arthur. “Think ya could do better, eh?”

“I know I can, boy,” Arthur replied calmly.

“When was the last time you had a woman, Arthur?” John smirked. “Let alone chatted one up. D’you even know how anymore?”

“Shut up,” Arthur groused.

“Go on then,” the Irishman challenged him further. “Give us a show, Morgan. We’ll see who’s laughin’ then.”

“Sure,” Arthur downed the rest of his whiskey and stepped away from the bar. “Pay attention, kid. You might actually learn somethin’ useful.”

You looked up as Arthur walked over to you and if it wasn’t for his unexpected and unwanted audience, he’d have dragged you off back to your hotel room by now. You looked so damn beautiful, and all you were doing was sitting there and minding your own business. Arthur sat down in the chair across from you and watched as you rested your chin in one of your hands, appraising him curiously.

“Can I help you, mister?” You asked him.

Good, you were still playing along.

“Do you remember me?” Arthur asked, loudly enough for the three gang members to hear.

You raised an eyebrow, obviously wondering if he was being serious or still playing at his ruse of not knowing you.

“Oh, that’s right,” Arthur continued. “I’ve only met you in my dreams.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, covering your mouth with your hand quickly to stifle it. Arthur just grinned, knowing how ridiculous he sounded, but that was the point he was trying to prove.

“You religious, miss?” He went on, loving the mirth in your eyes and the way you tried to hide your own smile.

“Why?” You asked, stifling another giggle.

“Because you’re the answer to my prayers.”

He heard Sean let out a cackle of a laugh at his expense, but paid it little mind.

“Ar-” you caught yourself quickly. “Uh, you have quite the way with words, mister…"

Arthur could tell that you were wondering when he would let up, but he wasn’t quite done yet. He was purposefully making a fool of himself, to show that it didn’t matter what he said, because in the end he would be the one you walked out of the saloon with.

“You got a map, darlin’?” He asked you.

“No…” you bit your lip to suppress another laugh. “Why?”

“Because I just got lost in your eyes.”

You couldn’t help it and let out a string of uncontrollable giggles. Arthur just smiled warmly at you, loving the sound. When you’d calmed down enough to speak again, your own gaze softened as you looked at him.

“Let’s get out of here,” you suggested quietly, so only Arthur could hear.

“What’s that?” He asked, louder than necessary. “You got a hotel room we can use?”

You just nodded with amusement, but it was clear that you were eager for some time alone with him. So, Arthur stood up and came around to your side of the table, holding his hand out to you like a gentleman. You accepted it and once you were standing, he linked your arm with his.

As you both walked past Sean, Javier and John, he didn’t miss the opportunity to glance at them. All three looked absolutely gobsmacked, but none more so than Sean.

“She turned me down, but fell for that?” Sean muttered incredulously.

Arthur couldn’t help the shit-eating grin that spread across his lips, but he just continued to lead you out of the saloon and head for the hotel. Once you were out on the street, you tugged a little on his arm and Arthur turned his head to look at you.

“What was that about?” You asked him, evidently confused.

“What?”

“You could’ve just told them that I’m your wife.”

“Nah, darlin’,” he gave you an affectionate smile. “I love the way people react when they find out a woman like you wants to be with me.”

You couldn’t help the smile that curved up on your own lips, but it didn’t make sense to you.

“Wouldn’t they still react like that if they found out we’re married?” You questioned.

“Maybe, but it’s more fun this way, darlin’.”

“If you say so…”

“Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?” He asked.

Arthur stopped and turned to look at you, picking up on the fact that you seemed a little down all of a sudden.

“No, just… you’re not embarrassed of me, are you?”

“What? Course not, darlin’.”

You looked back towards the saloon, noting that his friends could still see you both through the window.

“Prove it then,” you brought your gaze back to Arthur’s.

“Wh-?”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish his question before you were grabbing on to the lapels of his jacket and pulling him to you. Arthur’s lips met yours and then his arms were wrapping around you and holding you close. You’d missed him like crazy, so feeling him kissing you again was like heaven.

Arthur kept it gentle and chaste at first, but when you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed yourself harder against him, he deepened the kiss and groaned into your mouth. The coarse hair on his cheeks and around his lips tickled your skin, but the feeling brought you back to every other time his lips had caressed different parts of your body.

When he eventually pulled away, it was only slightly and Arthur pressed his forehead against yours. His hands were holding onto your waist and his fingers traced patterns tantalizingly across your skin, through the material of your skirt.

“I missed you, darlin’,” he told you softly.

“I missed you too,” you smiled happily. “Come on, let’s go make use of that hotel room.”

As Arthur took your hand in his, he could’ve sworn that he heard another loud comment ring out from the saloon, spoken in a thick Irish accent.

“That shite really worked!”

[seiyasabi]

Ripe For The Pickin’

(This is a Yandere Kita x Fem Reader Story! Hopefully y’all like this lmao, sorry if his hick accent is annoying lmao, I thought it gave him ¬flavour¬

Tw: !!noncon!, !misogyny!, breeding kink!, !Detailed postpartum depression!!!, !!!Mentions of attempted suicide and murder of a child!!!, !Mental illness!, !Defeatist attitude!, !Disassociation!,  housewife reader!, threats of physical harm!, manipulation!, mentions of kids!, etc.. 

Please proceed with caution! Note: Part of my family are farmers- my grandpa specifically, and he speaks very similarly to how I wrote Kita’s dialogue (the joking bit). He had a farm in Hawaii growing up, and he always jokes that he’s ‘but a country folk,’ so I mean no offense to those who own a farm. )

Throwing down his work cap on your kitchen table, Kita visibly brightens at your busy form. Your two year old son is balanced perfectly on your hip, your other hand stirring a pot of Udon. The steam rises around your head, slightly flushing your (skin colour) complection. 

Looking up, your eyes immediately meet the white haired male’s, causing you to freeze up momentarily. He sends you a warning look. 

“Welcome Home, Shinsuke,” A wobbly grin spreads across your painted features (just how Kita liked- he likes when you try to look good for him), catching the attention of your son immediately. 

“Daddy!” He practically hops out of your hold, rushing to the large male. Your unwanted husband scoops him up in his buff arms, swinging him around. 

“Whoa, one’a these days yer gonna throw yer Pa’s back out,” He grins happily at his carbon copy, smooching the small boy on his grey hair. 

The little one giggles cutely, basking in his father’s presence. You quickly approach Kita, hugging him from the side, and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, “We’ve missed you all day, My Love,” He always likes it when you’re sappy- it makes him feel wanted. 

At your words, he delivers a lingering kiss to your lip tint stained lips, your son half in your arms and half in your husband’s. You lightly pinch your babe’s cheek, causing him to giggle, before you kiss him on his forehead. Kita visibly brightens at your affectionate side, his open arm wrapping around your waist, “What’cha makin’ fer dinner, Pretty Lady?” 

You cringe internally, yet you can’t help the blush that forms on your pretty face, “Kazue wanted Udon- I hope that’s okay,” Shinsuke nods, a thoughtful look on his face. 

“‘O course,” He lightly pinches your son’s other cheek, “If our growin’ boy wants Udon, by God, he’ll get it.” 

-

Settling Kazue down in his bed, you give the sleeping boy a tender kiss on the forehead. As much as you hate Kita, you don’t have the heart to hate your son. He, like you, didn’t ask to be here, so you decided to be the best mom he could ever have. 

Smoothing his blanket over his lower body, you tuck the other bits under him, and lay his favourite stuffy next to him. Once done, you step away from the slumbering babe, and make your way out of his room. Kita is waiting in the night light lit hallway, leaning against the opposing wall. 

You jump slightly, not expecting him to be there. 

“Is something wrong, Shinsuke?” A practiced smile appears on your face, hands clasping behind your back to keep you grounded. 

He says nothing, motioning you to follow him, before turning and walking towards your shared bedroom. Shuffling after him, you try to still your rapidly beating heart. Did you do something wrong? 

Kita isn’t one to shy away from punishment. If anything, he revels in the momentary feeling of power-that is, until your broken body and mind are left in the aftermath. Then, he can’t help but feel horrible, because in some twisted way, the man truly loves you. So, he’ll try to cuddle and kiss his wrongs away, trying to forget that he’s the catalyst of all the things going wrong in your life. 

Burying those thoughts away, you step into the darkened room, noticing immediately that Kita is settled on his side of the bed. He’s stripping himself of his overshirt, exposing his wife-beater underneath, “Ya know, I think it’s time fer the boy ta have a brother.”

It feels as though the world around you is crumbling. Just when you gain a sense of normalcy, the bastard rips that away from you. 

Your smile visibly wavers, but you try to hold strong, “I-well, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Your hands are trembling, your heart practically being torn from your chest, “Kazue is still a toddler, I think it would be better if he was around five. Then, he can interact with-” Kita holds up a hand, halting your speech. 

“Yer gettin’ too technical fer the simple folk in tha room, Pretty Lady,” He stands to his feet, discarding his slippers, before slipping his baggy jeans off of his lower half, “Jus’ say yer too selfish to give yer lovin’, hardworkin’ husband tha things he deserves-” 

Kita knows that you had postpartum depression. He knows that you not only almost hurt yourself, but also your precious son. He knows that you had to be sedated at one point to even continue living. Yet, it seems like he doesn’t care. 

Tears fill your eyes, as you finally let your feelings become known, “That was horrible to say, Shinsuke. You know how hard it was for me-”

“It was also hard fer me too, ya’know,” He’s doing it again… trying to manipulate you into being the bad guy, “Seein’ ya go bonkers was hard ta’ watch. Plus, seein’ our son almost drown in tha tub-” 

“Stop it!” You finally lose your cool, surprising your usually collected kidnapper, “You don’t get to claim it was hard for you, when everything is your fault!” His mouth open and closes like a dying fish, unsure what to say, “If you waited for me to be ready to have children, I wouldn’t have spiraled out of control. If I was given the help I needed, I wouldn’t have gone psychotic. If you hadn’t stolen me away from my life and forced me to bend to your will, none of this would have happened!” By now, you’re a sobbing mess. He always does this. Kita always breaks you down until you seem crazy, but you’re not. You’re just tired of how he treats you like a baby maker, tired of how he treats you like nothing, yet claims you’re his entire world. 

But, when you hear him sigh softly to himself, you know that he doesn’t care about your feelings, “Do I need to use the gag? I thought we were above that.” 

Knowing that refusal won’t be tolerated or respected, you don’t bother wasting anymore of your breath. Slipping off your house slippers, you shuck off your dress, revealing your bare chest and panties. More tears slip down your face, as you lay down on your large shared bed. 

Shinsuke grins at your compliance, quickly moving between your legs, and stripping you of your drawers. His rough fingers rub at your clit and slit, “Good girl. ‘Ya know yer man jus’ wants what’s good fer ya, an’ a baby is good fer any good woman.” 

You ignore him, but he doesn’t seem to care. Kita continues to rub against your clit, trying to coax an orgasm out of you. But, you don’t give him the satisfaction. 

Staring at the ceiling, you let your mind go. Your dissociated body reacts well to his ministrations, your arousal coating your thighs, as they tremble in lieu of an orgasm. 

His fingers dig in deep, as they force your pussy open. Feeling how relaxed you are, he decides that you’re loose enough to go right in. 

Pulling out his thick cock, he bumps the head against your slick cunny, “Don’ worry, Darlin’, yer man will take good care of ya,” He slides in with relative ease, your hips bumping against his.  

The normal constricting feeling in your chest has long since faded, instead, the feeling of acceptance at the fact that you couldn’t get out of this replaced it. 

Your body jolts and rolls with Kita’s harsh thrusts, his panting warm against your neck, “Yer so good fer me, (Your Name), yer gonna bear me healthy sons,” The gummy walls of your pussy knead his cock thoroughly, trying to milk him for everything he’s got, “I knew you were perfect fer the takin’.” 

He forces your knees next to your head, the head of his cock bashing into your cervix painfully. Fortunately, that was enough to set your body off. A gush of cum drenches the both of you, as Kita slams himself inside of you entirely, allowing your womb to be filled to the brim with his fertile cum. 

“Ya never disappoint, Darlin’,” He smooches you on your lax lips, ignoring the fact that your head is practically empty, “Maybe you’ll have twins this time.” 

With that, he starts his hardcore pace one more. 

But, you can’t bring yourself to care. As long as you can drift away from the events unfolding in front of you, 

[thelastspeecher]

Whoops, I wrote even more of that AU with princes Stan and Ford and Stan's brave knight Banjo McGucket. This time, the cat's outta the bag.

——————————————————————————————

              “This is why I didn’t want you to come with us in the forest, Ford!” Stan shouted.  He gestured at his currently unconscious knight, laying on the ground with an arrow in his shoulder.  “Sir Banjo and I have wandered around here plenty of times with no problem, and the first time you come with, he gets knocked out and shot!”

              “Stanley, please, calm down and just find some water so that I can wash Sir Banjo’s wound,” Ford said, kneeling by Banjo’s side.  Stan scowled at him.  “You can scold me as much as you like when we’re back at the castle.  Right now, we need to make sure Sir Banjo will be fine.”

              “He better be,” Stan muttered.  He stomped off into the woods.  Ford sighed softly.  He looked down at Banjo.

              “I apologize in advance, Sir Banjo,” Ford said quietly.  He gripped the shaft of the arrow and yanked it out of Banjo’s shoulder.  Banjo didn’t move or make a sound.

              Well, that’s both good and bad.  Good in that he didn’t feel it.  Bad in that he’s clearly deeply unconscious.  Ford set aside the arrow.  He carefully began to remove Banjo’s clothing, guilt coursing through him as he did so.  Sir Banjo is notoriously private.  I hate to undress him, particularly given that I’ve heard he refuses to do so in front of others.  But I have no choice.  I need to tend to his wound.

              Despite knowing it was necessary, Ford still hesitated when he got to the layer of clothing below Banjo’s breastplate.  He swallowed.  He began to pull the undershirt up, but stopped.  His heart jumped to his mouth.

              No.  There’s no way-  Banjo stirred, eyes opening.  Ford winced.  This is the worst time to wake up.

              “I guess the cat’s out of the bag, huh?” Banjo asked weakly.  Ford swallowed.  “Say it.  Your Highness.”

              “You’re…you’re not a sir,” Ford croaked.  “You’re- you’re-”

              “A lady,” Banjo completed.  She adjusted herself so that she was propped up against the trunk of a nearby tree.  She winced.  “I’m goin’ to need yer help removin’ my shirt to take care of my wound, Your Highness.  I apologize.”

              “You- you’re- wait, you have an accent?”

              “Please, Your Highness.  I don’t want Prince Stan to return and see me in this state,” Banjo begged.

              “Right.  Yes.  Of course.”  Ford removed Banjo’s undershirt, fully revealing the breasts that had given Banjo away.  “Do you have any water to wash the wound with?”

              “Of course.”  Banjo pulled out a waterskin and handed it to Ford.  “I’m yer brother’s knight.  I need to be prepared fer everything.”

              “I can’t believe you have an accent,” Ford mumbled as he washed the shoulder wound.

              “I try to hide it to be professional,” Banjo said.  She grabbed her overshirt and ripped a few strips of fabric from it, then handed the fabric to Ford.  “But when I’m in pain, it’s a bit more dif’cult to cover up.  Y’know?”

              “I understand,” Ford said.  He began to bind the wound with the strips of fabric.  “I…I have many questions for you.”

              “I had a feelin’.  But can it wait until we’re back at the castle?”

              “Yes.  Of course.”  Ford handed Banjo her undershirt.  “I’m assuming Sir Lute will tend to your wound better when we return?”

              “Not necessarily.”  Banjo slipped on her undershirt.  “There’s a doctor who knows my secret.”

              “Whom?”

              “…I don’t feel comfortable tellin’ ya, Your Highness.  I apologize.”

              “No, no, it’s quite all right.”  Ford handed Banjo her breastplate.  She shook her head.

              “I don’t want to wear somethin’ heavy while I’m injured.”

              “Ah.  I see.”  Ford helped Banjo to her feet just as Stan charged into the clearing.

              “I found a stream, but I didn’t bring anything to put water in-” Stan started.

              “It’s all right, Stan.  Sir Banjo had a waterskin,” Ford interrupted.  Stan looked over.  His shoulders slumped in relief.  “I was able to tend to his wound.  Once we’ve returned to the castle, he’ll get looked at by a doctor.”

              “Good.”  Stan walked over to the two and looped one of Banjo’s arms around his shoulders.  Banjo turned pink.  “I’ll help you back, Sir Banjo.”

              “No- no need,” Banjo squeaked.  “It’s just a shoulder wound.  My feet are fine.  I can walk back without support.”

              “If you say so,” Stan mumbled.  Banjo retrieved her arm and smiled at him.

              “I’ll be fine, Your Highness.  And given our differences in height, you’d have to slouch the entire way back.”

              “So?” Stan asked.

              “Your comportment tutor would have my head!”

              “Not without my permission.  And I’m not gonna give that old fogey permission to even look at you wrong,” Stan said firmly.  Banjo turned pink again.  “You’re a good man, Sir Banjo.”

              “Th-thank you, Your Highness,” Banjo mumbled.  She winced.  “We should get going.”

-----

              Ford knocked on the door to Banjo’s room.

              “Come in,” said the voice of Sir Lute, Banjo’s twin brother.  Ford pushed open the door.  Upon seeing him, Lute immediately bowed, as did Banjo.  “Your Highness.”

              “I, ah, had some questions for your twin,” Ford said awkwardly.

              “If it pleases Your Highness, I would like to remain in the room while you ask my twin questions,” Lute said.  Ford nodded.  He closed the door behind him.

              “Please, Sir Banjo, sit.  You should be resting.”

              “As you wish, Your Highness,” Banjo said.  She sat down on her bed, wincing slightly.

              “It’s just us, can we please drop the titles?” Ford requested.  “You don’t need to refer to me as ‘Your Highness’.”

              “In that case, ya don’t need to refer to us as ‘Sir’,” Lute said.  Ford nodded.

              “I can do that.”  Ford cleared his throat.  “So…”

              “My name ain’t Banjo,” Banjo said.  “It’s Banjolina.  But I go by Angie back home.”

              “Angie.”

              “Yes.”

              “Well, Angie, does your family know?” Ford asked.

              “Do they know I’m a knight?” Angie asked.  Ford nodded.  “No.  They don’t.  They think I came to the castle to be a scullery maid.  I- I didn’t want ‘em to try to stop me or worry.”  She glanced at Lute.  “Lute worries enough as is.”

              “Can ya blame me?” Lute demanded.  He ran a hand through his dark brown hair.  “Angie, the crown prince found out yer secret!”

              “I won’t say anything,” Ford said quickly.  The siblings looked at him.  “I have no interest in causing someone to lose a job they are so good at.  And I in particular have no interest in potentially endangering someone whom I consider a friend.  Someone my brother considers one of his closest friends.”  The words had the desired effect.  Angie blushed fiercely and looked down at the floor.

              “I’m honored,” she said softly, “to be regarded so highly by the crown prince.  Such a distinction is every knight’s dream.”

              “That brings up the main question I wanted to ask, other than your name,” Ford said.  Angie looked up at him again.  “Why did you want to become a knight?  It’s a dangerous field for even a man, let alone a young woman.  Not to mention the inherent danger of hiding your gender.”

              “There aren’t many options fer young women,” Angie replied.  She tied her shoulder-length hair, a few inches shorter than Ford and Stan’s, back into a ponytail.  “Essentially, ladies are to wait fer marriage.  Until then, we are to do all we can to make ourselves as marketable as possible.  This includes seeking out employment appropriate fer a young lady.  Once we are betrothed, we are to pour ourselves into our relationship, abandonin’ everything else fer it.  Includin’ whatever job we may have had.”

              “And after you get married?” Ford asked.  Angie raised an eyebrow.

              “Stanford, do ya really think it gets much better?  A wife’s responsibility is to keep house ‘n raise as many children as ya can possibly have.  That’s it.  The miniscule scraps of freedom ya had before are gone.”  Angie sighed.  “My ma, she has that life and loves it, and I’m glad it speaks to her.  But it don’t speak to me.  So’s I wanted to put that off fer as long as possible.  The only way I could think of doin’ so was to find a job far away from my folks.  Some distance to keep ‘em from actively match-makin’.”

              “Not that they’ve actually stopped tryin’ to get ya betrothed,” Lute commented.  Angie dragged her hands down her face.

              “Don’t remind me,” she mumbled.  “Every single letter from ‘em, they ask if my scullery maid position has led me to meet a nice young man yet.  They’re determined I find a knight.”

              “Luckily, you’re on speaking terms with every knight at the castle,” Ford said dryly.

              “Banjo is.  Angie ain’t.”

              “Fair enough.”  Ford cleared his throat.  “That still doesn’t explain why you chose to become a knight specifically.  You could have become a scullery maid and still reached your goal of maintaining distance between yourself and your parents.”  Angie looked at her twin.

              “Care to take this one, Lute?”

              “Sure.  Anything to get ya to rest like the doctor wanted,” Lute snapped.  Angie rolled her eyes, but obediently laid down, propping herself up with her pillows.  Lute turned to Ford.  “When we were but young children, a knight visited our village.”

              “Where are you from, again?”

              “A small hamlet called Gumption.”

              “Right.”

              “We didn’t often get knights, it bein’ so far from the castle.  So’s when a knight showed up, it was a big affair.  Even more after we found out he was there to defeat the monster what had been terrorizin’ our village fer months.”

              “And did the knight succeed in his mission?”

              “Yep.  Afterwards, he stopped by our fam’ly’s vegetable stand and spoke to us.  He even told us the entire story of how he managed to do the job.  Then and there, Angie ‘n I knew we needed to be knights.”

              “Didn’t your parents tell you knighthood was a pipe dream for Angie?” Ford asked.  Lute and Angie snorted.

              “Constantly,” Angie said firmly.  She smirked.  “Luckily, I didn’t listen.”

              “For whom is that lucky?” Ford asked idly.

              “Other than me, well, I reckon it’s awful lucky fer yer twin brother.”  Angie suddenly blushed fiercely.  “I- I apologize.  That was inappropriately forward of me.”

              “No, no, you’re right,” Ford said.  Angie smiled weakly.  “It’s incredibly lucky for Stan that you’re his knight.  I shudder to think of what may have happened otherwise.”

              “Thank you, Stanford,” Angie said softly.

              “I merely speak the truth,” Ford said with a shrug.  There was a knock on the door.

              “Yes?” Angie called.

              “It’s Stan,” Stan’s voice said.

              “Come in,” Angie said.  Stan opened the door.  He smiled at Angie.  “Your Highness.”  Angie moved like she was going to get out of bed.

              “No, Banjo, you stay right there,” Stan said.  “You gotta rest up.  The sooner you heal, the sooner things go back to normal.”  He scowled.  “With one exception.”

              “What?” Angie asked.  Stan looked over at Ford.

              “Oh, you’re here, Ford?”  Ford nodded.  “And I saw Lute was here, too.  Good.  I only have to share the news once.”

              “What news?” Lute asked.  “Your Highness,” he hurriedly added.

              “Father demanded I have an audience with him about today.  After I told him everything, he decided Ford needs a personal knight for protection, too.”

              “And who has been assigned to me?” Ford asked.  Stan rolled his eyes.

              “Who do you think?  Sir Lute.  Duh.”

              “Oh.”

              “Banjo’s already assigned to me, so Father had to go with the second-best knight for the heir,” Stan said airily.  Lute scowled.  “No offense, Sir Lute.”

              “None taken,” Lute mumbled.  “I know my s- my twin is better than me.”

              “Hey, no shame in that,” Stan said cheerfully.  “My twin’s better than me!  It’s just the curse of being the younger twin or whatever.”

              “I’m the older twin,” Lute said.  Stan winced.

              “Never mind, then.”

              “We should probably leave these two be,” Ford said.  “I’m sure Sir Banjo will recover much faster with just he- his brother here than with our intimidating presences.”

              “Good point.”  Stan rolled his eyes again.  “No matter how many times I tell Banjo to relax, he’s still all professional and shit around me.”

              “It comes with being a prince,” Ford said, exiting the room.  Stan followed, closing the door behind them.

              “So, what were you doing in my knight’s room?” Stan asked.

              “I was just apologizing for indirectly being the cause of his injury.”

              “Uh-huh.  And the door was closed because?”

              “When I first entered, Sir Banjo was shirtless,” Ford lied.  Stan stopped in his tracks, gaping at Ford.  “Is something amiss?”

              “You saw him without his shirt on twice today!” Stan said, punching Ford’s shoulder roughly.  “I haven’t seen him shirtless once!”

              “…Do you want to?” Ford asked.  He rubbed the spot where Stan had punched him.  To his surprise, Stan looked away, his cheeks red.

              “Not- not- I don’t- we’re gonna be late for our comportment lessons,” Stan stammered.  He hurried away.  Ford frowned.

              Stan would never willingly go to comportment lessons.  What on Earth is his problem?

[danicruel]

Without a doubt (2 of 3)

(Trans Abby Anderson x Trans Male Reader fluff / smut. 18+, MDNI)

Hi y’all! In classic danicruel fashion, I keep splitting this into more parts because it just keeps getting longer and longer, so enjoy part 2 of 3! More graphic smut ahead.

Summary: When Abby shows up at your door one night, complaining that she can't sleep, it becomes clear how badly the two of you have been yearning for one another.

Or: Abby flops down on your bed, gives you the eyes, and then suddenly she's kissing at your fingers.

Click here to read Part 1.

The heat of her mouth drags lightly along your fingers as she holds your gaze. And then she’s kissing across your knuckles, soft and slow, and your breath is being sucked out of you in a loud, broken sigh. The blue-grey of her irises is eclipsed by the dark, hungry black of her pupils, and you turn your hand over to catch her pouty bottom lip with your thumb, to lightly drag it down to reveal her white, straight teeth.

With your heart racing, you bend forward onto your knees, supporting yourself to lean over her on your free arm. You stare at one another for a few beats, only the sounds of each other’s breathing filling the silence, and then, with your thumb still cradling the curve of her bottom lip, she opens her mouth further and glides her tongue over the tip of it.

“Abby.”

Her name falls from your lips before you can stop it, absolutely weakened at the feeling of her slick, pink tongue caressing over the nerve endings in your fingertip.

Then, panting, you bend to kiss her.

In a combined effort, you’re straddling her hips within seconds, your chest pressing against her soft breasts and your fingers carded into her hair. She tastes sweet and intoxicating, with the heat of her breath caressing your face as your mouths slide together in a heated dance, and it’s perfect. Her mouth is soft and inviting, immediately parting under yours, and your fingers squeeze into her still-damp hair.

It feels like every fibre within you is singing out to her, waves of desire and absolute need for her racking you with shaky breaths – even before she slips her strong hands up the back of your shirt and drags her blunt nails down either side of your spine. And then, goosebumps are breaking out over your skin, and you’re gasping into her mouth, breathless.

When you begin to pull away, just enough to get a few breaths, you can feel how she stretches up to chase you, her shoulders straining forward off the mattress to keep her lips on yours. You kiss her between fast inhales, and then she’s suddenly pushing up into a sitting position and you’re sitting in her lap, knees folded on either side of her thighs.

“Is this okay?” she asks, sounding equally winded.

Her eyes are heavy-looking, and her lips are a flushed pink as she takes you in, one hand on your lower back and her other arm behind her to lean against. She looks frazzled – her hair all mussed from rocking her head back into the sheets while kissing you, her shirt twisted and out of place – and you love everything about it.

“Yes, of course – are you okay?”

She nods enthusiastically with a panting grin, and then suddenly twists so that you’re underneath her. Your back hits the bed with a dull thump, and Abby’s between your legs, propped up on her knees and arms with her hair hanging forward around her face. The two of you stare at one another for a few beats in the warm lamp light, closely taking in the other.

“It scares me how badly I want you,” she whispers, eyes holding yours.

Her words stir a longing affection in your chest for her, and you reach up and grab a handful of her shirt to tug her down on top of you. The weight of her pressing you into your sheets nearly takes your breath away, and you firmly take her face between your hands.

Your noses brush together, and you whisper against her lips.

“Show me how bad you want me.”

She lets out something between a groan and a growl, and then she’s crashing her mouth against yours, licking into your mouth with a ferocity that makes your face burn. You’re not sure where the bold line came from, but you’re suddenly glad that the two of you have been nothing but bold since she slipped through your door tonight.

Your hands knot into her hair, holding it back from her face, and you rear up to catch her bottom lip between your teeth. The fullness of it is ridiculous, and the moan that she lets out when you suck it softly hits you like a blow to the chest, knocking the breath straight from your lungs.

When the two of you finally part to breathe, she ducks her head to run her mouth along the side of your neck, and a startlingly loud moan pushes past your teeth. Her mouth feels so good against your skin, hot and wet over the think skin of your throat. Eyes squeezed closed in pleasure, fingers digging into her shoulders, you tilt your head further back to give her more access, and she takes it greedily, licking all the way up to your ear and nibbling along the curve of cartilage.

The heat of her tongue makes you shiver.

When her hand brushes just underneath the hem of your shirt, fingers curiously dragging along the bottom of your rib cage, you bite your lip to hold back another moan. Abby pulls her face from your neck and looks down at you.

“Do you like being touched up here?”

“Yes,” you pant.

Smirking, she slips her warm hand further up your chest. Her warm fingers catch over your hard nipple, and an electric shock of pleasure zings straight down your spine, making you arch up instinctively into her touch. Her own cheeks get pink at your reaction, and she makes a content humming sound before lightly pinching you.

Oh, fuck – it feels so good, her just playing along your chest.

Your lips part in a shaky exhale.

Abby bends back down so that your torsos are pressed together, her one arm tucked between the two of you as she caresses over your sensitive skin, and you press your forehead up to hers. She’s burning up, her face hot and breathing just as fast as you, her hand moving hungrily under your shirt.

Her breath catches when you rock your hips up into hers, and you can feel the drag of her hardening length snagging between the two of you. Another wave of heat breaks over you at the breathy sigh she lets out, at her hips slowly beginning to rock in time with yours. Each slow thrust rubs against where you want her so badly, and the desperate need for her to fuck you just keeps building and building, because Abby’s perfect. And she wants you badly enough that it scares her, badly enough that she’s hard at the thought of having you, and you want every part of her that she’s willing to give you.

“That feels good, huh?” she breathes.

Nodding wordlessly, you pant against her full lips, just an inch away from your own.

Desperately, you reach down to wrap your hand around the curve of her low back, urging her to keep going as your lips brush. Her hand that isn’t teasing your nipples releases the sheets beside your head, and she slides it under your shoulder and up your neck to cradle the back of your head, holding your sweaty foreheads together.

The gesture is sweet, soft, despite how starved the two of you are for one another. She holds you tenderly, her fingers flexing against your scalp in a soothing pattern, and ducks her head to bite into the soft skin below your jaw. As you gasp and moan under her attentive tongue, under her steadily rocking hips, part of you hopes that she’s leaving marks along your neck – ones that will be very clearly traced back to her when you run into your friends tomorrow.

The summer air is warm on your skin, and the gentle breeze coming through your window seems to make the smell of Abby even more intense, continually stirring up the smell of her warm skin and clean hair. You breathe her in, even turn your head to press your nose into her hair as she mouths over your collarbones, trying to hold back your whimper of pleasure at her insistent tongue.

The only thought you can hold in your head is her name, her face, how fucking good she’s making you feel.

The warm brush of her hand travels down your stomach, drags over your bellybutton and hesitates just above the waistband of your pyjama pants. She pulls back just enough to look down at you again, a storm brewing in her eyes as they flicker across your face, and you stare up at her, deliriously turned on. Just as she starts to open her mouth, you reach between the two of you and guide her hand lower, push her fingers below the elastic of the waistband. You rock up into her, and she bites into her bottom lip, eyes narrowing.

“Please.”

Abby’s jaw drops open when she drags her fingers lower, through the slick heat waiting there for her, and you let out a gasp when she easily finds where you’re most sensitive. The two of you let out a simultaneous loud sigh as she strokes along either side of you, between the length of her fingers, and you rock your head back into her other hand where she’s still holding you.

“Oh, fuck, you’re hard ...” she murmurs, stroking directly over your swollen, throbbing peak.

All you can manage is a strained groan in response, and she chuckles against your lips before kissing you again, tongue immediately teasing into your mouth. She works her fingers in soft, stroking touches, pressing lightly and making your breath stutter in your chest.

“Is this good?” she whispers against your lips.

“Yes, oh my god –”

A few minutes of heavy breathing, moaning, and gasping go by before you’re grabbing her hand and pushing it lower, your body aching for something to stretch around, to take her inside of you. She moans loudly when her fingers nudge your slick entrance, and you catch how her eyebrows pull together in pleasure at how aroused you are. Your hips rock up into her touch, desperate for more of her, but then she’s pulling her hand from your pyjama pants with a grin.

“No, please don’t stop,” you whine, covering your furiously blushing face with your hands.

“Just for a second.”

Sitting back on her knees, she tugs her loose, cut-off tank top over her head, revealing a lot of ivory skin completely untouched by the sun. If you weren’t gobsmacked at how toned she is, how perfect her small breasts are, you would have chuckled at her intense tan lines, but instead you prop yourself up onto your elbows to stare at her, mouth hanging open. She’s blushing, her hair hanging over her broad shoulders in a waterfall of blonde waves, and then your eyes drop to the tent in her sweatpants. The sight of it, the size of it makes your mouth go dry, and your own face burns at the thought of taking her inside of you.

Snapping your eyes back up to hers, she’s smirking, clearly having caught your thirsty look at what’s in her pants. Shaking your head, you can’t help the self-admonishing chuckle that bubbles from your chest.

“Sorry – just, like – holy fuck, you’re beautiful,” you stammer out.

“Yeah?” she gives you a crooked smile.

The two of you undress quickly from that point, Abby getting you completely naked first, licking and kissing along your stomach and hips as she pulls your boxers down your legs. When she finally slips off her sweatpants, drops them to her feet while standing beside the bed, a sigh of delight pushes past your lips at what’s pressed up along her stomach, deep pink and hard with arousal.

“Do you like being touched?” you breathe, sitting forward to get a better look at her.

Nodding, she takes herself into her hand with heavy eyes, squeezes along the shaft with a groan before slowly stroking up over the head. Your heart, which had already been racing, somehow surges faster in your chest, entranced at how her hips slightly rock in time with her hand.

Leaning forward into a sitting position, you’re about to reach for her when she pushes you firmly back down, smirking. You give her a confused look, about to open your mouth, when she chuckles.

“Not yet. I want to taste you first.”

Fuck me.

The blush sitting in your face starts to burn down your neck and chest at her words. Part of you tries to feel ashamed that you’ve fantasized about Abby’s head between your legs long before this moment – but now, knowing that she also wants it, it’s enough to light your skin on fire.

She caresses along the inside of your ankles with her thumbs before wrapping her fingers around them and tugging you easily down the bed until your legs are dangling over the edge. Your head is swimming when she looks up to hold your gaze.

“What do you think about that, handsome?”

[rosetintedgunman]

Ace doesn't really have a reliable way to tell the time and date. Sometimes he can catch it if Aaron's watching the news on his phone loudly enough. Sometimes he'll be lucking and his brother will tell him. But usually he just goes through life not knowing the day. And it suits him fine. He doesn't need to know; there's nothing to look forward to.

So when he steps into the Roller and his eyes are assaulted by way more pink than usual, all in varying heart shapes (coupled with the fairly cold temperature in the house), he thinks it's safe to assume it's Valentine's Day.

Pushing down the constant bitterness that rises in him anytime he's reminded of what he's lost, Ace makes his way to the bar, hoping to catch Wilford.

"Having a nice Valentine's?" He asks quietly as he sits down, happy to take his weight off his leg. "Anyone to go back home to?" Despite always sounding somewhat monotonous, and perhaps a bit dry, the question is genuine. Wilford is... odd, but kind in his own way, so Ace has no intention of being unpleasant. He's been trying more and more to be sociable.

Results may vary.

@the-graves-family

-

As the evening came to a close, Wilford was on a mission of "damnit I want to find a friend", and the universe kept denying him his freedom! It was his establishment! They could survive without him!

(Then again, he had abandoned the place in December. He likely needed to make up for that one)

It did bring up an interesting problem. He did want to find Ace... But he had no idea where Ace resided when not in the Roller. Maybe it was for the best that he was constantly distracted until Ace was able to arrive.

Ace, similar to a poker player, kept his cards to himself. He was deliberately tight-lipped about his personal life. But Wilford thought he had a few things figured out:

Ace had been through something bad. Wilford wasn't sure what, but it reminded him of his own past life for some reason. Maybe it was the awareness of sticking out.

Ace was not an outgoing person. In fact, he didn't like to have attention on him at all beyond the barkeeper.

Ace seemed lost, like the story he was in had taken some turn that was doing more harm than good.

What all this meant, Wilford had no idea. But as someone who didn't always follow the story as intended, he was keen to do something about that.

"Ace!" A grin appeared under the curled moustache. "Was hopin' y'd drop on by today. Yer in good time too. Most the crowd has gone home. Perks of all this bein' on a 'work night' -" emphasised by finger quotations, "- is that people don't stay here until four in th' morning! But I'm glad ya came. I - huh?" The casual question caught him off-guard. Did he have anyone? A figure cloaked in darkness? A pretty lady who adores cats? A woman with dark hair and a love of the night sky?

"I do, sorta. But I'm not gonna be headin' home just yet anyway. However, I'm real glad yer here. It means I don't need ta go look fer ya. This year, I've been workin' on gettin' stuff fer friends. I know I don't know ya that long or that well but, ah... I like ya. As a friend, I mean. An' I gotcha a little somethin'. Not chocolates or anythin' big an' fancy like that. It's just a..."

Wilford trailed off, ducking under the counter in his quest to find something. Then, eventually, there was an "AHA!" followed immediately by a thump and a "Ow, fuck" before Wilford reappeared, one hand rubbing the back of his head and the other holding a tiny gift bag. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

There was a narrow black box inside, and when it clipped open, it revealed a rollerball pen. It was plain silver in design, with a simple engraving of 'Ace' in cursive. There was a clip to make it easier to attach to clothing or stash away when not being used.

"I, uh, don't know if it's useful but apparently people like writin' things?" Unforunately, Wilford was not an expert in this category.

[shyficwriter]

Temporary Home: Chapter 14

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: The guardians keep trying to include you in various activities to keep your mind off what's troubling you since you won't talk about it. However, one of these activities turns out to have a, shall we say... slightly less than desired outcome.

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: Thank you to @quillsandtypos, @theambracer88, @mcugiggles, @marvelouslyfluffy and all the anons who participated in my questionnaire post! As you probably guessed, I'll be using the answers (and any future ones, if anyone else still wants to play) to complete some fluffy scenes in the story! Also, for my records this chapter ends on day 23 of the Guardians living with reader. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4,683

Rocket, though he finally had a way to repair the device, had decided to wait a bit before actually doing so. Hell, he had waited this long, certain that his smuggling had been in vain once he found one of the parts had broken on... ahem, "departure," so what was another day or two? It was obvious they were going to be here awhile anyway, so he wasn't too rushed.

One might wonder, how was Rocket able to smuggle anything if SHIELD had searched him, already having found and confiscated contraband he had hidden in his "back pocket?"

Well, Rocket wasn't an idiot. He knew of other ways to smuggle goods on his person. Or, in his person, rather. That being said, maybe to say he wasn't an idiot might be giving him a bit too much credit... Swallowing the pieces of a small data pad might not have been exactly the safest thing to do, though he had given himself a pat on the back for rightfully assuming the Terran's wouldn't think to put him through a body scanner.

He had been damned lucky that nothing had gotten lodged or had punctured any of his innards on the way through, but hey, it worked, didn't it?

Well, mostly.

As said, a part had broken on "departure," which he of course blamed on Gamora and Mantis for rushing him in the bathroom that first day. If that bug-eyed chick didn't have such a tiny bladder then he could have allowed for a more "graceful landing."

No matter, he now had a way to fix it thanks to you. This had admittedly softened his attitude towards you the tiniest bit, though he wasn't going to admit it, nor was he going to completely let his guard down. Use of your workshop was probably just another bribe to win his favor, after all. Just like the bed. He was definitely going to take advantage of it, don't get him wrong. He wasn't just not going to use the tools available to him. Just like he wasn't going to just not sleep in the bed you built him. It was better than sleeping in the crib, though he had been grateful the crib had been left in the room when you left the bed. He had been hiding the pieces of the smuggled device under the crib's mattress -the only good use he saw for it, other than the fact that Groot actually slept pretty well in it- because boy, if the others had found out he had smuggled that in, they would have been pissed. Hence, why he wasn't in too big a hurry to fix it just yet.

Perhaps it couldn't hurt to maybe fix that broken stool in the shed for you, though. Just for a warm up, not because he thought he owed you anything, of course.

***

The evening of the check-in you had found yourself with nothing to do and back in the thoughts that had plagued you since the couple came, and you once again considered pouring yourself a glass or two of whiskey.

Yondu had been leaning against the counter enjoying a snack when he saw you retrieve the bottle from the fridge. Remembering the previous night he raised an eyebrow at you. The last thing he wanted was to witness a repeat, but thought he'd still keep an eye on you. Cut you off again before/if you started to look a little too "weepy." He had doubts that you even remembered what you'd done the previous night, and this was confirmed when he made a lighthearted comment about, "Ya goin' to take it easy tonight, or will I be needin' to cut you off again?" and you raised an eyebrow at him before saying, "What? You didn'- Oh right- I think I do remember you taking my drink now that you mention it," as you set the bottle on the table and went to retrieve a glass from the cupboard.

You now sported a slight blush and, pausing your actions, asked, "I um, didn't say or do anything embarrassing to have warranted that, did I?"

Yondu looked you right in the eye, and lied. "Nope. It was just clear ya had a bit much. Figured I'd save yer wimpy Terran liver." He laughed at your slight pout and added, "Ya just whined at me fer takin' yer drink and then fell asleep. Nuttin' too excitin'."

Yondu could see the relief on your face and it solidified his lack of regret of not telling you. Sure, he might have wanted to crack the mystery to see why you were the way you were, but not like that. He hadn't expected the previous night's display, and if anything, it made him feel like he should back off. Yes, it prompted more burning questions, but even he knew there were some things you just didn't pry into.

Around that time Peter and Kraglin came into the kitchen, messing about and horse-playing. You considered telling them to break it up, but then decided you didn't actually care enough as long as they weren't about to break anything... or anyone. You were about to make your standard polite offer of a drink when suddenly a rip was heard and Peter whined out, "Aw man! You ripped my favorite shirt!"

Sure enough, their rough-housing had managed to rip the seam along the left-shoulder of Peter's dark blue shirt, leaving a sizable hole of a couple inches long that revealed another white shirt underneath.

You rolled your eyes and told him where he could find the sewing kit.

Peter looked at you sheepishly and said, "I don't know how to sew."

You sighed and said, "I guess I'm not doing anything..." and you began to walk towards him and the exit of the kitchen, abandoning the bottle of whiskey on the table without having poured a drink.

Peter took off his ripped shirt and in a surprised voice said, "Oh!- Thanks-" starting to hand you the shirt as you walked past.

You didn't take the shirt, just looked at him as a laugh escaped your throat. "I didn't say I'd do it for you. I meant I'll teach you." With that you cocked your head towards the door and headed out towards the sitting room.

As you walked away you shook your head and muttered something Peter couldn't hear but assumed was an insult as he blushed both from embarrassment at his mistake and from hearing Yondu and Kraglin now laughing at him. He wordlessly followed, not wishing to make more of a fool of himself.

Watching Peter leave, inspiration struck Yondu. It might be overstepping, and might have been a long shot, but it was worth a try. He nudged Kraglin in the arm to get his attention. "Ya remember last night? How things got a little too..." he searched for the right word.

Kraglin finished for him, "Sad? Yeah. I remember." He caught sight of the bottle on the table. "She back at it tonight?" He and Yondu hadn't discussed what happened when he had returned to the kitchen after walking you to your room. It had gone unsaid that you were in a bad way.

"She was gonna," Yondu answered, "but then you two came in and gave her something to distract herself. Might not hurt to keep doing that for a bit."

"Ya wanna keep her busy?" Kraglin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Better than watchin' her drown herself in a bottle," Yondu replied flippantly with a shrug, but Kraglin could see through his blasé attitude.

He was slightly surprised, but not completely opposed to Yondu's suggestion. You had been drinking a lot the past few days. It didn't take a genius to see that something was obviously wrong, and he knew better that drinking like that only made sad feelings worse. If this had been the Eclector, and you part of the crew, he or Yondu would have cut you off well before now once they saw the pit you were digging. You just don't let sad people drink themselves into a stupor. It's bad form. But this wasn't the ship, and you weren't crew, and they couldn't stop you. They were in your house. They've barely known you for three weeks. He knew they couldn't just order you around, but if a little bit of distraction kept him from seeing you looking that sad again and kept you from hiding in the bottom of a bottle, he was for it.

Yondu spoke again, more or less repeating Kraglin's thoughts back at him. "I know we're on her turf, but someone's gotta do somethin'. It's bad form to just let h- to just to let a person drown like that. She needs to get her mind off what's been troubling her."

Kraglin examined the former captain's features. There was something else there. An emotion behind his eyes the first mate was familiar with after years of faithful service. Cap'n might not always be the best at admitting his softer feelings, but Kraglin knew. He could see it.

It was a look similar to the one he wore after he finished telling Rocket just how alike they were, right before they went to fight Ego. It was the same look in his eyes he had shortly after Peter came aboard the Eclector as a boy and it was decided he wasn't going to be delivered to Ego. One Kraglin even thought he recognized being on the receiving end of when he was a younger lad on the crew.

Kraglin smiled, a soft mix of understanding and sadness. "Sir," he said gently.

Yondu grunted in response and glanced at him.

"First, I do agree with ya, we should help keep her mind off it, but I just gotta say this too." He sighed before continuing. He knew Yondu wasn't going to like what he was about to say, but they were alone now, so he felt safe to say it. He knew if he said this in front of anyone else it'd a a surefire way to put Yondu dangerously close to whistling territory. "We can't be getting too attached, now."

Yondu glared at him. "Who said anythin' about-"

"Sir, all respect and all, but I think I can say I know ya better than anyone else here." Kraglin said, having cut Yondu off with a slight chuckle. "I can see it, I can tell when you're getting attached." His tone got slightly more serious, more comforting. "I don't think it'll be good for ya to get too attached, sir. We'll be leaving here eventually, and we know she ain't gonna be coming with us."

Yondu set his mouth in a firm line and stared Kraglin down hard but didn't say anything. He knew his first mate was right, but that didn't mean he had to admit it. Finally he answered with, "I ain't gettin' attached to nuttin' or nobody."

Kraglin sighed. If he knew anything else it was that Yondu could also be stubborn as hell. If he wanted to live in denial, well there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it. "Alright, sir," he said with a shake of his head. "I believe ya." He didn't, and his tone betrayed that, earning him a narrowed eyed look from Yondu, but they dropped the conversation, at least for now.

***

Showing Peter how to sew went fairly smoothly. He seemed to grasp the concept well enough, watching you sew the first third of the tear - not the easiest task with your brace on- and then repeating what you had shown him on the rest himself. He finished soon enough and thanked you before leaving the table.

However, almost immediately after that Kraglin showed up with something ripped and asked if you could teach him too. You sighed, and mildly scolded him about how come he couldn't have asked while you were showing Peter, but you agreed regardless. Again, it wasn't exactly the easiest task considering you only had a limited range of motion to move your arm, but you managed. After he finally seemed to get it (he asked a lot of questions, even if he understood, assuming it'd be helpful to keep you occupied for longer) you noticed it had gotten dark out, and you were tired anyway, and so when it looked like he had a handle on it you decided to just go to bed.

***

The next day it seemed like people just kept asking you to do things. Not like they were ordering you around, but more like asking you to do things with them, which they hadn't often done.

It wasn't all bad, but you had the feeling it wasn't just a coincidence that they were seemingly trying to keep you engaged in various tasks and activities after Maria had informed you that one of them had expressed concerns about your well-being. You didn't know if they were now acting on their own or if Fury or Agent Hill had suggested it, but either way you figured you'd just roll with it. If you made an effort maybe they'd be happy and drop it.

That morning, before you realized what was going on, Mantis came to you with a book on plants and asked you to help her identify different plants around the property. You had almost said no, perhaps another time, but then you saw the expectant look on her happy face and decided you had time to kill anyway, so what could it hurt?

It was about when you were asked by Mantis and Drax to join the others for a game of UNO that you started to suspect what was going on.

Before this, Peter had kept coming up to you wanting to show you funny videos he found, having recently discovered the YouTube app on the TV; Yondu had come to you with an archery book and tried making small-talk asking about Terran types of archery; and Gamora and Kraglin asked you to help ref while everyone sparred.

You had agreed to reffing, feeling a little better than you had been all those days you had refused and now therefore not seeing any reason not to.

It was a slight bummer though, needing to sit on the sidelines and watching others train, but you supposed watching them to see if they knew any cool 'space moves' couldn't hurt. Plus, watching how the raccoon was able to hold his own against human-sized opponents was always interesting. Groot sat with you, not being permitted to spar with the others (except for when Rocket would decide to pretend spar with him, just to make him happy) and he was adorable as he played with the grass, so it wasn't all bad.

After that everyone else was pretty much tired, but Groot came up to you with the car you had given him, holding it above his head. You raised an eyebrow and looked to Peter, who informed you that the little guy wanted you to push him on it. You did, because how could you possibly say no to that?

What was cute to Peter, however, was the fact that no one had prompted Groot to do that. He just genuinely wanted you to play with him.

After a while of playing with Groot is when Mantis and Drax had come to you about playing UNO. Now you were getting a hint of what they were doing, but you agreed to play a few games with them anyway. You even caught yourself actually starting to have fun.

Around suppertime Peter came up to you, asking if you could teach him how to cook something. He talked about how he thought it'd be fun to learn to cook more things from his home world, and also reminded you how you did say several times that he could 'help you cook later.'

You sighed and after some more prodding from Peter you finally agreed, asking him what he might like to learn how to cook.

Peter looked like a deer in the headlights before admitting that he didn't actually know. He didn't remember a whole lot of different Terran foods from when he was a kid, and he was now drawing a blank.

You nodded towards the kitchen and told him the two of you would figure it out.

After looking for a bit you decided on a vegetable stew, mostly because this had been unexpected and you hadn't pulled any meat from the freezer to thaw.

Peter was surprisingly not bad at it. He handled the knife safely, he cut the vegetables evenly, and he listened as you told him what to do and when. You wondered if he had some experience cooking before, but you didn't ask.

After dinner Gamora wouldn't take no for an answer on helping with the dishes, of course using your injury as an excuse. You sighed, but allowed it, agreeing to dry while she washed, still under the impression that if you just indulged them for a bit they'd eventually stop and start leaving you along again.

Just as you finished Peter came to the two of you asking if you wanted to see a new movie he found on Netflix.

Figuring it wouldn't hurt to make an effort, you agreed to watching a movie with them and followed into the sitting room, wondering what film he had picked out.

Turned out, he had chosen a horror movie. Candy Man.

You sighed. Obviously you weren't completely immune to jump scares, but you didn't really mind horror movies. You could even go as far to say that you enjoyed most of them. However, you were concerned about Mantis, who you could see sitting happily on the rug in front of the couch next to Rocket as you entered the room.

"Are you sure this movie is appropriate for everyone?" you ask Peter.

"What? You scARed?" Rocket taunted with a smirk, and it was then that you saw Groot on the rug as well, having been sitting in Rocket's lap.

You roll your eyes and explain that your concerns were for the wooden child and Mantis, as your time spent with them hadn't made you very confident that they would recieve a scary movie well. "I'm more concerned the movie's gonna give them nightmares," you explained as you took a seat at the end of the couch.

Gamora seemed to agree with you, but the two of you were outvoted. Rocket just rolled his eyes and snarked that he bet you were scared, and Mantis assured excitedly that she could watch it. Groot, even though you couldn't understand him, also seemed adamant. You had a feeling they didn't really know what they were getting into, but combined with the fact that Mantis was an adult, and Groot wasn't your child, and Peter was doing his best to convince you and Gamora that everything would be fine, you eventually gave in, stating, "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. She better not crawl into my bed tonight. I'll send her your way."

Peter just laughed and shook his head, not taking you seriously, before turning out the lights and taking a seat next to Gamora at the other end of the couch. Kraglin took the last available seat between you and Peter and Rocket smarted off again.

"If you're gonna get scared maybe Kraglin will hold your hand!" he laughed as Peter turned on the film.

You rolled your eyes at him and crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to look at Kraglin to give the rodent any satisfaction that he might have succeeded in embarrassing you. This, Kraglin was grateful for, because he was sort of an easy blusher, and he didn't want you to get the wrong idea. He just gave Rocket an unamused look, but he was also grateful the lights had been dimmed so that Yondu couldn't see him blushing and then tease him for it. Whether or not the former Ravager captain would actually believe Kraglin might have managed to develop feelings for you wouldn't matter. That fact that Kraglin had just told Yondu the previous night that he shouldn't be getting attached would be enough for him to jump on it and tease the hell out of him purely out of spite.

Despite the movie being old, it was still relatively new to you. You had heard about it, thought you remembered seeing a commercial or maybe a clip or two of it over the years, but this had been your first time actually watching it.

It was about halfway though and nothing terribly scary had happened yet. There was the flashback scene of a little boy having been mutilated that made you cringe, as any show that featured little kids being harmed always hit a sore spot, but it didn't really show much more than a bloody bathroom.

You were starting to think it probably wasn't going to be any real scary scenes, but then Candyman started to call the college lady's name, and it actually made you fight a shiver. You didn't know why, but creepy sounds were one of the few things from a film that could actually strike fear in your heart. Thankfully it didn't last long. You weren't looking forward to being teased for jumping or shivering at a movie that wasn't really even that scary.

At least it would mean that Mantis would be unlikely to crawl into your bed scared tonigh-

Candyman just shoved his hook through the college lady's medicine cabinet.

Half of everyone jumped, including you. Among those startled was Kraglin, and he shot you a glance that you purposely didn't return, not wanting to answer to any cocky smiles or teases accusing you of being scared.

A shot came on the screen centering on the baby Candyman took and you tensed, worried he was going to kill it, but you were relieved to see that he only let it suckle on his finger.

Kraglin felt you tense and then relax beside him, and he frowned, remembering the other night. He considered asking if you were alright, but then thought better of it and held his tongue, instead watching on as a scene played where the lady was now stuck in a mental hospital, having been believed to have killed her best friend and said baby from the previous scene.

Yondu didn't think he liked this movie, but he continued to watch in silence. He didn't want to see kids being hurt, and he had also tensed at the previous scene. Like you, he was sure that the bad guy was about to kill the baby. However, as he was sitting in his usual spot in the armchair, his tension went unnoticed.

Mantis let out a short scream when the lady summoned Candyman and he killed the psychiatrist. You sighed, realizing this wasn't looking good for her staying in her own bed tonight. Little did Peter know, you hadn't been kidding. If she tries to crawl in with you, you're sending her right to him, seeing as it would be his fault.

The lady was now exploring Candyman's lair, and you started to get a little tense at the creepy sounds of his breathing, and you mentally cursed whoever mixed the sound for this movie.

You got even more tense and fidgety when he opened his robe to reveal a ribcage full of bees. You only hoped no one noticed to tease you for it. Body horror was another thing that never failed to make you shudder.

Eventually the movie started to come to a close, a scene played where the lady's jerk ex-fiancé was having flashbacks to how good he had it with her now that she was dead, and you thought it was just going to end on a sad note.

That is, until he said her name, Helen, five times in the mirror (just like Candyman) and she came back and killed him with the Candyman's hook. Her sudden appearance made you startle slightly, and you heard more squeals from Mantis. You sighed again. Yep, she was definitely not going to sleep tonight.

The movie was finally over and Peter got up to turn on the lights. He turned to see you giving him a glare and he smiled. "What? Was it too scary for you?" he jeered.

You just pointed down to Groot. He had his head buried in Rocket's chest and was softly whimpering. "I told you that movie wasn't for kids."

Rocket scoffed at you and told you he would be fine, then turned it on you, saying how he felt you jump at least three times from where he was sitting.

You rolled your eyes and ignored him, turning to Peter and this time gesturing to Mantis, who still looked a bit shaken. "I meant what I said. She tries to crawl in bed with me, I'm sending her to you," you say, leaving to go to go get ready for bed, both because it was now late, and to avoid any inevitable further teasing from Rocket.

The others seemed to have much the same idea about bedtime, and a few of them followed you up the stairs.

You let Mantis shower first, hopeful that if you went after her that she might hopefully be asleep by the time you got out. However, when you finished your own shower, Peter had thought it'd be funny to jump-scare you as you exited the bathroom, grabbing your shoulders and shouting, "CANDYMAN'S GOTCHA!" which resulted in you jumping a mile with a noise you'd deny was a shriek before you turned to punch him in the arm scolding, "Damn you!"

He, along with Rocket, only responded by laughing their asses off at you. You thought you could also hear Drax's own booming laughter down the hall from his room, and you caught a glimpse of Yondu and Kraglin sharing amused glances and snickering from their shared room.

Your face getting warm at the fact that he had actually managed to get you pretty good, you then just storm off to your room, ignoring Rocket's teases that he bet that you'd be the one crawling into Mantis's bed tonight.

You shut the bedroom door behind you to see Mantis awake and clutching her bear for dear life. Whether she was just already awake due to nerves or you had woken her with your startled cry, you didn't know, but you flicked on your desk lamp for her, turned out your overhead light and crawled into bed without a word.

Sometime later, long enough for you to have drifted off into a decently sound enough sleep to be dreaming, you were startled awake by someone crawling into your bed.

Guess who. That's right. Mantis.

You groaned and turned to see she had already crawled halfway into your bed before you stopped her by rousing. "Mantis," you groaned, pointing towards the door, "go climb into Peter's bed. He's the one that chose the movie."

Mantis tucked her chin sheepishly and admitted she had already tried that, but his and Gamora's door had been locked.

You stared at the ceiling and sighed. Clever bastard.

You made a mental note to squirt lemon juice in his coffee in the morning before letting out another groan. "Ugh, fine. But just this once," you allowed, ignoring the fact that this would actually technically be the second time. You were also not actually quite as salty as you let on. If anything, you should maybe thank her for waking you from a bad dream involving the Candyman's ribcage full of bees, but you weren't going to tell her that.

She smiled gratefully and thanked you as she snuggled in.

You sighed quietly and Mantis fell asleep quickly. At least she didn't snore.

You spent the next bit before you fell asleep yourself contemplating different ways that you might be able to annoy Peter for sufficient payback.

[starsheild]

AU August 2nd- Marriage of Convenience

AU August 2nd 2021- Marriage of Convenience

It was almost as though his time tied on the wagon was the calm in the eye of the storm for Prowl. The cycle had started in a whirl of activity and ended much the same way, and Prowl had only been swept helplessly along by it all. 

His processor had skipped a little when he had finally come face to face with the speaker and discovered that the Monsters of Mountains were just mecha. Strange looking mecha to be sure, but beings whose fields he could teek, his optics could observe, and his audios could hear even if his processor could not process the glyphs being spoken for the most part.

The visored mech had lifted his chin forcing Prowls helm one way and then the other as he studied him. When he spoke again it was in heavily accented but perfectly fluent Praxian. “Just ya keep quiet and we’ll get ya mov’d outta here.”

Prowl simply nodded in agreement. It was not as though he had much choice. There was no point in calling for help, for there was no one to rescue him. While his tired processor was sluggishly generating questions as it tried to process his surprise and confusion, in the moment it was so much easier to just obey.

The bindings that had secured him on the wagon were cut away and Prowl swayed as their support fell away, the stiffness of his frame after being restrained for so long catching up with him.

“Easy there.” The stranger murmured, catching Prowl quickly yet gently. He supported Prowl easily until he found his pedes again, then helped Prowl to the edge of the wagon, passing him down to others waiting on the ground, issuing orders in a dialect Prowl couldn’t follow.

Those on the ground handled him just as gently, helping him to the edge of the clearing where Prowl was met with a new sight starting enough to force his processor to focus once more. He had seen images of zap-ponies, of course, but he had never actually thought that he would see a real one, much less ride one. But that was clearly what his helpers intended as they lifted him and placed him on the small beast, guiding his servos to the stiff upright mane that ran the length of the creature's crest pointedly.

One of them spoke quickly, stopping only when Prowl blinked at him stupidly. After a nanoklks consideration and a brief consultation with his companion he squeezed Prowl’s fingers in to the mane. “Hold. Strong. Hold strong?”

That at least Prowl was able to process, and he grabbed hold and nodded. Relieved, the one that had spoken stepped away, leaving Prowl with the single mech to hold the pony. After a few vents to process the strangeness Prowl looked around, watching in silence as the mecha swarmed over the clearing, gathering up everything and loading on an entire herd of zap-ponies like the one he currently sat upon. Even the wagons were quickly broken down and loaded on the beast until there was nothing left in the clearing.

It was then that the first mech that had spoken, the leader, Prowl decided, had appeared at his side and taken command of Prowl’s mount. At his motion the entire company set out, and Prowl had resigned himself to holding on for the ride. The canopy of the crystal forest hid the stars in the sky above, leaving in darkness that his optics could not penetrate and input from his sensor wings that his processor could not interpret.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he reached their destination. The next time he really processed anything he realized he was inside some sort of building and being helped from the zap-pony. A short, dark mech appeared, taking him from the leader and guiding him away.

He led Prowl into a small room, directing him to the berth within, and for the first time Prowl balked.

The mech stopped, then chuckled softly. “Easy mech. Yer not fer me. Not fer no one at the moment. Ya hungry, jus’ wanna charge?”

Prowl started to nod, then caught himself. That was not a yes or no question, and he was suddenly at a loss.

“Ah, ya can speak now, much as ya want. Yer safe here.” There was a hint of sympathy in the dark mech’s tone and field.

“Fuel would be appreciated.” Prowl said, more relieved than he liked at being allowed to speak again. He settled on the edge of the berth, automatically evaluating it as it gave beneath him. Firm, but not so bad. As tired as he was at the moment, Prowl suspected that he could have recharged on the hard floor beneath his pedes with little difficulty. “And, maybe also, your designation?” 

The mech laughed. “Sorry mech. Meh manners are slippin’. Ori’ll prolly whap me when ‘e hears. ‘M Ricochet. Rico, if ya prefer.” He fetched a cube of energon from a side table that Prowl had not noticed at first, taking a small sip before offering it to Prowl. “Here.”

“Thank-you.” Prowl accepted the energon and the gesture of goodwill, even if he had not felt anything of the sort necessary. He was a captive, was he not? His first question had gone over well enough, so after a few sips of the energon he dared another.

“May I know what my fate is to be?”

The dark mech, Rico, shook his helm. “That’s for Ori ta tell. He’ll be by, once ya’ve had a chance to fuel and charge a bit. From what ‘ave heard, they don’ make this easy on ya’ll.”

“Those that have been sent before?” A bit of hope crept in to Prowl’s spark. While he still had no idea what was to happen to him, he doubted that they would go through the trouble of fueling and allowing a mech that they were planning to end for whatever reason to rest.

“Yup.” Ricochet nodded in agreement, watching as Prowl finished off the energon. He held out his servo for the empty cube. “Want more?”

“I am not full.” Prowl said as he handed it over. “But I am no longer empty, and I fear that much more will not set well with my tank right now.”

“Smart mech.” Ricochet observed. “I’ll leave ya to charge then. Yer safe in here. Don’ leave the room though.”

“I will not.” Prowl promised.

“Good. Ya need anything, jus’ holler for me or call fer Punch. He’s my ori.”

“He was the one that brought me back?”

“Yup.” Rico smiled, the single glyph answer full of pride and affection. “‘Need anything ‘fore I go?”

Prowl shook his helm, then caught himself as he optics landed on the glowing crystal on the table with the pitcher. “Will you leave the light?”

Ricochet followed his gaze, and actually seemed a bit surprised at the request. “‘Course. Ya can cover it if want it darker, or I can bring another if ya want more.”

“One will suffice. Thank you.”

Prowl back on the berth as the door closed behind Ricochet. He did not hear any sort of lock engage, which surprised him a little. With a soft vent he let his optics go dim and his processor wander. As recharge overtook him his last conscious thoughts were of his brother, and a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that the Priest had kept his word and delivered the message.

***

The creak of the opening door pulled Prowl from recharge. He struggled to sit up, groaning as his processor slowly booted. When his optics finally focused they revealed the other mech he could clearly recall from the dark cycle.

Punch, Ricochet had named him when the dark mech had claimed him as his originator.

“Feelin’ better?” Punch asked as he came closer, offering Prowl a full cube of energon after taking a sip, just as Rico had done before.

Prowl’s optics swept over the mech curiously as he accepted the cube. The bright yellow and blue of his armor was a sharp contrast to Ricochets, though as his processor continued to clear Prowl could see the resemblance in frame and manner. “I am, thank you. Ricochet was very considerate.”

“Not enough ta ask ya yer name.” Punch grumbled. “Since ‘e couldn’t tell meh when asked.”

“My designation is Prowl.” Prowl offered with the appropriate cant of tilt of his helm and doorwings as well as the intonation of his designation that added layers of meaning beyond the mere glyph.

“Well then Prowl, welcome ta Polyhex.” Punch smiled, the expression if not warm, at least as welcoming as the glyphs. “Rico said ya had questions.”

“Many.” Prowl admitted, debating between what he desperately weighed as the most important, and lesser weighted ones that were not as frightening in their potential answers posed by his processor. Finally he settled on the latter. “I must confess I am surprised at hearing Praxian spoken.”

Punch’s expression softened a touch, his frame settling into an even more relaxed posture as he answered. “There’s a good number ‘o us that know it. Ya seem like a smart one, though. Bet ‘cha pick up in Poly quick enough.”

“Then I am to continue functioning,” Prowl sighed, the words slipping from him before his processor could catch the escaping thought.

“‘Course ya are. Don’ know what they tell ya happens ta the mecha they leave any more. Don’t really care, honestly.”

“They tell us nothing of what supposedly happens to the Offerings.” Prowl admitted. “All I know, all I know that anyone knows for sure, is that they are never seen from again.”

“Well, there is that.” Punch nodded in agreement. “Seein’ as how we can’t have ya goin’ back. But we’ve never off’d anyone they’ve offered without cause. So long as ya agree ta stay, ya live here jus’ like one ‘o us.”

“Like one of you? As a… Polyhexian?” Prowl stumbled over the glyph, his stutter the result of a great deal of surprise, and no small amount of anxiety

“Free ta live and enjoy functioning.” Punch confirmed. “Soon as one little detail’s taken care of.”

“And what is that?”

“Yer bondin.”