#I just had an image in my head of Heart Pirates dressing up as Kid Pirates

[vergina-spva]

okay but... one piece characters... dressing up as other one piece characters for Halloween. But not like their friends, but like other pirates or marines or whatever, just to mock them or because they genuinely think it’s a scary costume.

[ikeromantic]

In the Spotlight

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction, approx. 1700 words. This scene occurs after the events of the romantic epilogue and includes some of what happens in the part 2 introduction. Mostly fluff!

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Uncomfortable Questions

Kyubei bowed low and held the position. It wasn’t his first time to report to Nobunaga, but it was his first time to do so without explicit instructions from his lord. He was nervous, but it didn’t show. Kyubei could hold an icy composure as well as Akechi.

“Report.” Nobunaga’s tone was flat, hiding his own frustration.

Hideyoshi and Masamune weren’t trying to hide theirs. The one-eyed dragon was pacing and Toyotomi’s scowl could have peeled paint.

“There is no evidence,” Kyubei cleared his throat, “that the forces at Kasugayama are involved in the attacks on Azuchi. However -” he paused. This was the part that made him sweat. “The disappearance of Lord Akechi and the lady chatelaine coincide with the vanishing of their ninja, Sarutobi Sasuke.”

“I don’t believe it.” Masamune stopped, one hand dropping to his sword hilt. “There’s no way that ninja got the drop on Mitsuhide.”

Hideyoshi nodded. “Agreed. My guess is that they are working together.”

Kyubei interrupted. “I find that unlikely, my lord. At least, in the manner you suggest. If I may?”

Nobunaga indicated he should continue.

“My sources tell me Shingen Takeda is ill, and between the loss of his ally and his ninja, Kenshin is unstable. Seeking conflict within his own forces as well as outside. It is unlikely he is aiding Kasugayama. Though he must have known Sarutobi's absence might . . .” He frowned, wondering how much he should imply, what he could suggest.

Ieyasu saved him the need. “Mitsuhide was making plans for an extended absence. I think we should consider that he has left, with Sasuke, to visit the chatelaine’s homeland.”

Mitsunari nodded. “This would make sense. There could be something about the events of the night he disappeared that forced them to leave sooner than he expected.”

“There’s more to it, and if I know that snake -” Hideyoshi’s rant was cut short by Nobunaga’s raised hand.

“Enough. I did not wish to bare Akechi’s secrets, but Ieyasu is correct. Mitsuhide sought my permission to take the chatelaine to her home. He was uncertain how long they would be gone.”

The room exploded with sound, warlords talking over one another. Hideyoshi was ranting about safety and plots; Masamune demanded permission to seek them out. Keiji was laughing. Ieyasu and Mitsunari were relatively silent, waiting for the excitement to die down.

Nobunaga’s carnelian eyes quieted each man in turn.

When he could be heard again, Kyubei continued. “I made contact with Ranmaru. He is seeking out the forces responsible for the attack on Azuchi, along with other spies in our network.”

“Ranmaru? That boy is afraid of his own shadow. Completely unreliable,” Hideyoshi muttered, not unkindly. “He should be here.”

Kyubei couldn’t help the slight smile at that. He didn’t approve of Ranmaru’s tangled loyalties, but one could not argue with his ability to act a part. “Of course, my lord. But Ranmaru insisted. And he does have many friends to rely on for information.”

Ieyasu stood. “This doesn’t answer my questions though. Where is the chatelaine? Is she safe? When will she return? We all know Akechi has his . . . plans. I’m not worried about him. He’ll turn up when and where he wants to. But she’s -”

“You’re worried about her!” Mitsunari beamed. “I knew you were just trying to hide it when you told me-”

“Shut up.” Ieyasu glared. “I’m just . . . the enemy could use her against us. We need to know where she is.”

“Agreed,” Masamune spoke up. “I will put together a team. We’ll find her.”

“My lords, I am afraid she and Mitsuhide are beyond any team.” Kyubei sighed. “The greater concern is what this impacts and how it will be used against us. The Ikko Ikki are moving. The Mouri clan have resumed pirating, and we know it was Kichou that executed the attack on Azuchi. In addition, we have rumors the shogun in exile is drawing a new following.”

Mitsunari frowned. “Yes, I reviewed several shipment records and troop movements from old loyalist daimyo. It appears we are not done with the shogun as of yet.”

Kyubei bit his lip. The scribe they’d installed should have been satisfied to live in luxurious exile, but it seemed the old shogun’s loyalist stirred his greed. Or maybe they were using him as a puppet. He had no way to know, as the spies in Ashitaka’s court had all fallen silent.

Nounaga spoke again. “Hideyoshi, you and Keiji will pursue the Mouri. Masamune, I want you to make contact with Kasugayama. Offer a truce. See what they can offer up about their missing ninja. They may be willing to hunt down our enemies with us, as it does them no benefit to see this land descend into chaos.” His gaze fell on Ieyasu. “You will join Kyubei’s efforts to track down Mitsuhide and the chatelaine. Your research and his current knowledge will yield results.”

“May I assist Lord Tokugawa?” Mitsunari’s innocent smile could have been worn by an angel. He was completely oblivious to the sudden grimace on his friend’s face.

“You may, in your spare time. I need your mind fixed on calculating provisions, troop movements, bridges, and roads. There will be fighting soon.”

Mitsunari acquiesced with a bow.

Kyubei delivered the rest of his report, and then was dismissed. He went straight to the Akechi mansion and opened a bottle of sake. Alcohol was a vice he rarely indulged in, but today he felt like he needed it. He’d exposed some of his lord’s business without permission. He had no idea how or if this would impact Akechi’s plans. And now . . . he’d be working with Ieyasu. It would be difficult to keep the secrets he needed to keep.

He kept drinking until the room spun and the lights all wore halos. Kyubei might have kept it up, but he ran out of bottles and couldn’t make the walk to fetch more. Instead, he fell asleep, sprawled out on the floor of his lord’s office.

***

Mitsuhide felt a mix of relief and distress when his little one explained the plastic stick on the bathroom counter. It meant they were not having a child together. Not yet, at any rate. And this was good. He was in no position here to father a child. But . . .

The image of himself holding a child. His. Hers. His heart felt too big for his chest, thinking of what such a child would be like. His very own son or daughter. One with his love’s sweetness. His eyes. Her nose. His perception. It made him ache, as if he had an old bruise, a wound that hadn’t healed. Which was completely irrational.

He looked out the train window at the rapidly passing countryside. Trees. Hills. Houses. Different and not so different from the world he knew. He should be spending this time planning the next few days, not moping. Kitsunes did not mope.

“Are you ok? Are you nervous?” His little mouse put her hand on his leg, comforting.

“Yes and yes.” Mitsuhide turned his head to give her a sideways smile. “I have never had to meet the parents of my betrothed.” He had expected Nobunaga to marry a woman to him for political purpose. Some well-bred woman who knew how to run a house and had courtly manners. A woman he would never love, but could put up with, at a distance. Yet here he was.

She laughed. “It will be ok, really. I talked to okaasan and she is excited to meet you. She’s happy for us.”

“And you father?” Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sure he’ll get used to the idea. He’s just . . . to him, I’m still a little kid. But I’m sure once he sees us together, he’ll come around.”

Mitsuhide was less certain about that. He’d known several fathers and they fell into two categories, most of the time. There were the men who could care less about their children beyond their use to the clan. And there were the men that treated their children as things of wonder. Not that they coddled them - but they cared. About their education, their work, their friends. He was sure his lover’s otousan fell into that second group.

The train stop came sooner than he might have liked. The two of them disembarked. There were only a handful of people getting off the train here, so it was easy to spot her parents.

They were dressed conservatively. Her father was a little shorter than Mitsuhide, and a little thicker around the middle. His greying hair was thin on top, and he wore glasses. Her mother was small and wore a smile he would have known anywhere.

The parents caught sight of them at about the same time Mitsuhide’s study of them finished.

“Otou-chan! Okaasan!” His little mouse flung herself across the platform, and was swept up in a hug from both sides. Tears ran down her face, and her cheeks were stretched in a wide smile.

Mitsuhide felt out of place in this moment of familial warmth. He had no such experience himself, and did not want to intrude either way. He stood quietly, holding their bags. Waiting as they exchanged hugs, kisses, and stammered apologies and explanations. As if they could make up for half a year apart in a few minutes.

Her father finally looked up and met Mitsuhide’s eyes. His were dark and suspicious. Protective. “You.”

His little one smacked his arm. “Be nice, papa. This is my fiancé, Mitsuhide. Mitsuhide, this is my father, Minoru, and my mother, Youko.”

Mitsuhide bowed low. “I am pleased to meet you both.”

Her father didn’t reply, but her mother did. “We are so glad to meet you too! It was such a surprise . . . our little girl . . . disappearing and then -”

“And then coming back with a weird boyfriend,” her father interrupted.

Oh yes. This was already going very well. Just as expected. Mitsuhide straightened and put on his best ‘trust me’ smile. “If there were any way we could have done it differently, I promise we would have. I hope we’ll be able to lay any worries you have to rest.”

She stepped over to his side and took his arm. “Yes, I plan on explaining everything.” His little mouse was the one to look nervous now. And no wonder. After much discussion, they’d decided on telling her family a version of the truth.

In fact, Sasuke and Miyake were supposed to come out the following day to provide backup evidence for their story. But even with that, they were asking her parents to accept a lot all at once. Mitsuhide did not see their chances of success as being very high, but for her, he would try anything.

Next: Bonding

[alpacaparkaseok]

Shut Eye: The Other Side

pairing/genre: idol!Yoongi x soulmate reader, fluff

premise: In a world where every night Yoongi meets his soulmate in his dreams only to forget their face and voice when he wakes up, He’s now more desperate than ever to find them.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this is Yoongi’s POV of the original one shot, ‘Shut Eye’. Give it a read if you haven’t, this will make more sense!

requested by anon - thanks for wanting to see a bit more with this story! a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post!

It wasn’t a secret that Yoongi wasn’t a fan of traveling very often. It wasn’t the flying or the different foods - he loved seeing new places and meeting people from all over the world. In fact, seeing their fans was usually the only way to get him to cheer up.

What he hated about traveling was how it messed with his sleep schedule. He wanted to sleep at the same time as you. 

Not like he knew you, but he was very aware of how he felt while sharing the dreamscape with you.

Simply put, he felt happy. The kind of joy that fills up your very bones and leaves you with your own personal sun hanging above your head for hours to come. 

So no, Yoongi couldn’t say he was a very big fan of traveling. Not when it took him far away from your timezone and left him to dreams void of your presence. 

Now, with tour season looming in the not-so-far-off distance, he realized that he couldn’t keep this up. He couldn’t keep doing this to himself. It was time.

Thankfully, Jin felt the same way. When the dreams started - around the age of nineteen - Yoongi hadn’t known where to turn. However, as time went on, he knew that he could turn to his members. Jin just so happened to be his roommate, and therefore the constant listener. The mornings when Yoongi would awake and sit straight up as though chasing after you worked almost as well as an alarm clock for Jin. With bleary eyes he’d roll over or later on when they got bigger rooms and had something of a separator between either side, he’d slip on his pink slippers and pad over to where Yoongi had collapsed back on his pillows and had thrown his hands over his eyes. 

“What do you remember this time?” Jin would ask with a gravelly voice.

Yoongi would keep his eyes closed, desperately trying to remember every detail. However the most frustrating part was never being able to remember the sound of your voice or what you looked like. 

It was Hoseok who first offered up the idea about the award show. 

“You have to start somewhere,” he explained. “So why not start with us? Drop some major hints. She’ll get it.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Yoongi griped miserably. The only thing on his mind was the impending tour and the months spent without you in his dreams. 

Hoseok simply shrugged, giving his friend a firm pat on the back before getting up from the couch. “You have to start somewhere, Yoongi.”

And start he did.

He remembered how nervous he was, even though it was just a part of the dream, to bring you out to the red carpet. He’d asked to see his suit earlier that day, thinking that it might help you to identify him in real life. 

When the boys asked him about how it went the first night, Yoongi gave some noncommittal answers. You’d certainly seemed confused, and he felt almost bad because he knew that you’d probably woken up with more questions that answers. 

The next night, however, Yoongi was shocked.

He’d entered the dreamscape before you, and had taken a moment to steel his nerves. It was also a little nerve-wracking to meet you every night, going through the process of seeing you for what felt like the first time over and over again. 

You entered the dreamscape, he heard your footsteps. Taking a deep breath, he turned around to face you.

You...wow.

Dressed in a deep red gown that kisses the tops of your ankles, you had a forgotten smile on your face as you recognize your soulmate. He did his best to appear unaffected, but he couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey,” Yoongi mumbled, wondering for the millionth time how he could forget someone like you every morning. “You look beautiful.”

You took a look at his suit, and he stilled under your inspection. “Are you wearing that to the award show today?”

Yoongi nodded, stepping toward you. “I wish you could go, I know that I’d be able to find you-”

“I am.”

His heart wasn’t sure if it should stop or speed up, instead settling for some sort of palpitation. “You are? How?”

“Ji-eun is my best friend, remember?”

“So…we’ll see each other.” Even as he uttered it, Yoongi wondered if it was too good to be true.

“I hope so.” You titled your head, and it made him want to do the same. “But will you recognize me? It was so hard for me to remember any details after last night’s dream, I feel like it’s getting harder.”

“I think it is,” Yoongi admitted, holding his breath as he walked the final few steps toward you and grabbed your hand. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to forget this dress.” 

Of course, as soon as he woke up, the image of that red dress was burned on the inside of his eyelids. Throughout the day, he was rambling off different things about it to whoever would listen. The other members had heard enough about it to last the next several years. That didn’t stop him from talking about it some more, of course.

Once they made it to the red carpet, Yoongi found that he couldn’t focus on anything. He looked like some freshly-debuted kid, eyes wandering and fidgeting nonstop. The other members just laughed, playing it off as best they could. 

“Let me know if you see a red dress,” he mumbled for the hundredth time to Taehyung.

“Hyung,” Taehyung placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know. Obviously I’ll have to look, you’re too short to see anything as is.”

While the rest of the group laughs as they walk onto the red carpet, Jimin especially enjoying the joke that is usually reserved for him, Yoongi raises his brows. 

Without a single ounce of shame, he gets up on his tippy toes and begins to look around from the new vantage point. How is nobody wearing a long, red dress?! Isn’t that like a staple of the red carpet??

Just as he’s about to curse and start posing for pictures like he should, his eyes catch on a red dress far down the line. Slowly, as though swimming through concrete, his eyes drag themselves up to meet yours. 

You - it’s you, he’s sure of it - are staring right back at him. And you tilt your head to the side, in a way that’s so familiar to him that it almost feels like he’s somehow stumbled into the dreamscape in the middle of the red carpet. 

There’s only way to find out. 

Somehow his feet manage to carry him to you, and he’s standing in front of you and seeing you for what feels like the first time but he knows - just knows - that you and him have a very long, detailed history. 

“Quick,” he breathes out even as your eyes are devouring him alive. “If it’s really you, tell me what name we can’t agree on for a girl.”

He sees your surprise, and for a moment he’s terrified that this is all some huge mistake. That he’s officially lost it and that this marks the end of his sanity that he’s somehow managed to cling to for all these years. 

However, just as he’s about to apologize and slink back to where he came from, you smile.

Really smile.

And he remembers. That smile is the same one that greeted him every time he got to the dreamscape a little late. You would pretend to be upset, laying out on the couch and groaning about how you don’t even know why you try to be on time. And he would laugh and kneel before the couch, sweetly asking you to forgive him.

That same smile would melt his bones and haunt him in his waking hours. 

And suddenly you’re answering him, the amusement evident in your voice. “We are not naming her Pearl! It would make her sound like a pirate ship!”

It doesn’t matter, he realizes. He couldn’t care less right now. Not as you’re finally within reach.

But he’s not going to tell you that. Better to keep that feigned annoyance on your face for a little longer - it’s adorable. 

So he just brings you closer until your foreheads are touching and you’re all he can see. It’s just you and that red dress and that smile that he thinks he’ll always remember, even if he forgets his own name. 

And when he quietly mumbles, “I told you we’d find a way,” he knows he’s saying it more to himself than to you.

Together, you’d found a way.

Finally.

masterlist

[pure-kirarin]

More than friends : Koby x f!reader

A/N : Okay, I am just obsessed with Koby and there aren’t many scenarios with him so thought I might over indulge and write something. 

Overview: You and Koby were childhood friends but haven’t met in four years...

-----------------------------------------

« - I am coming ! »

You get out of your room, wondering who was paying you a visit so late. You open the door slowly, carefully, only to discover a man in a marine uniform. You narrowed your eyes, scanning his familiar silhouette. Pink hair, gentle eyes, it could only be...him. You put your hand on your lips, retaining a shriek of surprise. Whenever you thought of Koby, you were only met by the image of the small child that you used to play the pirate and the marine with. The person you had in front of you now was nothing like that child, it was different, but the eyes were the same.

-It has been such a long time, (Y/N)-san. I am sorry that I didn't tell you in advance, I wanted to keep it as a surprise. He smiles and rubs the back of his neck.

-Koby-san !

You try to hold your excitement, feeling as if you were in a dream. You two haven't seen each other in more than four years. Four years of solitude. You only heard that he has joined the marines two years ago, and that's how you kept in touch by exchanging letters.

-Please get in. You say, opening the door a bit wider so he can get inside. You notice now that he grew way taller than you. To say that you used to tease him about his height...You couln't retain a smile while taking his coat, asking him to get comfortable.

-I hope that I am not bothering you. I didn't think much before coming. I was on duty on the island and-...

-Why are you acting like we are strangers ? You can come whenever you want. I am...really happy that you did.

You were a little embarrassed since you weren't used to seeing him in person. It's true that you both exchanged long letters in which Koby described his marine life to you, but being next to him, right now...Made you feel like you were meeting for the first time. He on the other hand, seemed more assured, nothing like the self conscious little boy that you used to know but so similar at the same time.

-I am happy too. You have changed a lot, (Y/N)-san. He says with a little smile.

-Says who ! You are taller than me now. You say with a pouty face. Wait for me in my room, you point to the door with a hand gesture, I will bring some tea.

Koby makes himself comfortable. It was also now a strange feeling for him. The feeling of having always been there for you through words but also one of being strangers. He takes a sit and first thing he notices is a pile of letters next to your bed ; his letters ? He smiles at the sight. Koby has always been extremely moved by how much effort you put into keeping in touch. When he received your first letter after he joined the marine, he was surprised that you still remembered him and that you even wrote him. None of his childhood friends have done that, but you did. He still remembers your shaky handwriting, the same flowry paper that you always use and the very first words that you wrote ;

« Dear Koby-san,

I am not sure if you remember me but I am (Y/N),

we used to play together when we were kids. »

Of course he did remember. He even recalls the happiness of having someone write to him almost religiously. You never missed a holiday, a birthday, anything. Anytime something will show up about the marines in a newspaper you would write to him to make sure that he was doing alright. He chuckles when he thinks about Helmeppo asking if these letters were from his mom.

Your words were always there when he needed someone, encouraging when he lost confidence, entertaining in the long lonely nights, a clutch, a breeze of innocence in his world.

Your silhouette shows by the frame of the door, ruddy cheeks, shaky hands, noticing the scattered letters on the night stand. You put the plate on the table and hide away the letters in a drawer under his amused gaze, he didn't recall you being so shy. You take place next to him, pouring black tea in porcelain cups. He looks at your shaky hands and says ;

-You used to hate black tea.

-I am not a little girl anymore. I can have tea now ! You hand him the cup with a wide smile. Him remembering small details about you put your heart ablaze. He brings the cup to his lips and you just simply add ;

-You drink it without sugar now.

-I guess that changed too.

He inexpected you more in details, it was true that you were also far from the little girl that he knew. Actually, he surprised himself quite a few times imagining your face through your words but it was nothing like the woman that he had next to him. He gets a little distabilized by that thought, and you look at him with big eyes, trying to figure out what he was thinking about.

-You looked so cool in that uniform Koby-san... ! I am sure that you will become soon an admiral !

You said, trying to make the atmosphere a bit lighter, making him choke on his tea and say while waving his hand in front of his face

-I still have a way to go ! (Y/N)-san !

-You will be there in no time ! I am sure. You laugh lightly. Then, you tell him to wait for a second before taking a book out of your drawyer and putting it on your legs. Look what I have found last time by the way !

He looks at the book with an interested face before you open it. It was an old photo album with yellowish pages. Inside, there were many photographs of you. He remembers the girl-child with full cheeks and a contagious smile that was now imprinted on his lips. You turn the pages and then stop pointing at a picture of the both of you ; Him dressed up as a marine boy and you wearing a red-like cape, how old were you ? 8 probably ? You smile at that memory and say ;

-I really miss those days ! You were so cute, and you had such big cheeks. I'm sad that I can't pinch them anymore now !

Koby blushes and tries to take the picture off you hand but you hold it above your head before jumping on your feet like a kitten ;

-(Y/N)-san ! That's so...give it back. His voice was adorable,

-What ? Are you embarrassed now ?

-No it's just..

-Hehe ! Don't tell me that you are too shy ? You say with a playful voice.

Koby gets up and holds you by the wrist, you get a bit surprised but then you try to move your hand away from him, teasing him further. However, you didn't expect the man to have this much force and you fall back on your bed, making him lose balance as well. You open your eyes only to discover that Koby was now on top of you, your hand letting the picture go and fall on the ground. He lets go of your wrist and you both look deeply into each others eyes, distabilized by the sudden proximity. The proximity and the heat of the moment made you remember that he will only be spending a few hours in your presence. Your heart started beating fast thinking that it was your only chance to tell him what you have hidden for so long. You didn't want to do it like a coward, you didn't want to have hopes for the next four years, who knows when you will be able to meet again ?

« I want to be more than friends, Koby. »

Your words were fast, blunt, surprising. Koby wasn't able to process what was happening, you just went from zero to nine. You were always that way, so random, impredictible, always acting on the heat of the moment ;

- I am going to kiss you now. You whisper.

- huh ?

You didn't wait for him, you took his hand in yours, it was warm and a bit moist, was he as stressed as you were ? You closed your eyes, intoxicated by his smell ; a mixture of soap and cologne. At first, he didn't know what to do, feeling your soft lips just brushing against his. He stayed inert for a second then, he instinctively pinned your wrists by each side of your head, firmly yet gently. You let yourself go, you let yourself get guided by the weight of his body, engraving every single moment in your memory. I don't want to let go of him...You were eager, not willing to let go, you kissed him passionately as if you tried to pour all your love in that gesture. His mind was a wreck, his head was clouded, he has never thought that he wanted to kiss you that much , that you both needed it. When the kiss had to come to an end, Koby separated your lips, rosy cheeks, eyes meeting yours, half open. You held him by the collar, bringing him closer, an ocean of yearning mirrored in your irises.

-I kissed you anyways...

This time, it was him closing the gap between your lips. It was different, rougher, desperate, teeth tugging at his lower lip. One hand got lost in his hair while the other one rested on his chest, surprised to discover how fast it was beating, almost as fast as yours.

-(Y/N)-san... He says puzzled, not understanding how things turned up this way that quickly, nor what he was feeling at that moment and why he enjoyed it so much.

-..I...I wanted to...I have always liked you, Koby-san...That's why I...I looked for you everywhere...I want more...Than just friends.

Looking at you so fragile under his body made his heart melt. Nobody has ever waited for him for that long. He thought about the times that your words have cheered him up and about the times that you spent together as kids. He even thought about the promise that you have both exchanged, one day, in your yard. His hand brushes your cheek softly ;

-You still remember our promise then...He says.

Could it be ? What was just despair in your eyes turned into hope. You nodded, now encercling his chest holding him closer ;

-Then hurry up and become an admiral...

You said, remembering that hot summer day, eight years ago, a day when you promised that you'd marry Koby when he becomes an admiral.

[descendantofthesparrow]

One-shot - Harry Hook x Reader - Colorless - soulmate au!

i made this cuz i was having minor writers block from rewrite and wanted to do a soulmate au oneshot. enjoy!

=

He had never believed it, the idea of soulmates. Someone who made in the stars just for him? That would love him no matter what? Someone he would love till the end of his life? Someone perfect to him in every which way?

Yeah right, he was not that dumb to believe something like that, villains didn’t get happy endings, or someone to love.

They didn’t need it, or deserve it.

His father's world had been black and white since he was born, he had been told that color erupted around him the first time he stepped onto a ship out on the open seas, but Harry wasn’t inclined to believe him after the 30th time he had asked what the color of something was and his father refused to answer.

Some days he looked out across the strait of Ursula to see Auradon, wondering if he did have a soulmate and if they lived there.

Somedays he dreamed of someone with a laugh that sounded like the soft bells you would hear in those Auradon commercials around the holidays, not the ones he would find that sounded like a little metal ball hitting against cheap plastic.

Sometimes he would dream that he was on a large great pirate ship, walking along the deck with someone as they sang a sea shanty with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard, he akined it to a siren that sang to sailors about their deepest loves and wishes.

Deep down he knew it was dreams of his soulmate, hinting to him so he could find them easier. But he had already convinced himself that he didn’t have one, so he did his best to ignore those dreams.

He never thought that he would be proved wrong.

When he kidnapped King Ben and informed Evie, Jay, and Carlos about the deal Uma wanted to make with Mal. He didn’t expect to look behind Carlos as see a flash of color in a pair of eyes he had sworn he had seen in his dreams.

He ignored it, turning and walking back to the crew and escorting King Ben back to the ship. It didn’t mean his mind wasn’t on those curious sparkling (e/c) eyes for the entire night.

The entire day leading to the trade for Ben, he saw flashes of (e/c) everywhere, a bead on Bonnie's bracelet, a cloth hanging from the clothing lines, a shimmer from the sea below the revenge.

He forced himself to think that it was a fluke, that those hypnotic eyes hadn’t been the ones belonging to the one that would be called his soulmate.

He threw that out the window when he was chasing after Ben and slammed into someone, his mind screamed at him to drop his weapons and catch them before they hurt themselves, he listened. His hook and sword clattered to the deck as he wrapped his arms around their waist and tugged them back on their feet.

Their colorless hair bounced a bit as they shook their head to clear their frazzled mind and looked up, Harrys breath stopped as the (e/c) eyes looked into his, the world now exploding into color.

Time froze as the two newly found soulmates started into each other's eyes, Harry's grip around their waist tightening as he started to look at them. Soft looking (h/l) (h/c) hair, blush tinted (s/c) decorated with (freckles, scars, beauty marks, whatever), (chapped, scarred, soft, plump, thin) lips agape as they stared back at him.

His soulmate…was everything the stories had said. They were perfect to him, truly made in the stars just for him.

As time resumed, Harry flinched a bit as he heard the frustrated screams of Uma and Mal. He looked up, gritting his teeth as the traitors and Ben backed up near the tunnel, calling out for someone's name.

(y/n)…that was his soulmate's name.

“Yeh have ta go” he whispered to them, releasing his grip on their waist and sliding it up to their shoulders, giving them a reassuring smile when they protested “we’ll see each other again, I promise…I’m Harry” they stopped, whispering their name back before grabbing one of his hands and pecking his palm, turning and running towards their friends, glancing back at Harry the entire time as the core four and Ben made their escape.

Harry gingerly picked up his weapons, starting at his reflection in his hook. So that’s what his mother meant when his eyes had reflected the colors of the sea. He hooked his hook on his belt and went to sheath his sword, watching as the red fabric he had tied to his sword handle fluttered in the wind.

He sighed, rolling his neck and watching as Uma stormed off, watching as her colored hair flew around her as she took the long way around the wharf to get to the other side of the tunnel. He had always told her that her hair was beautiful, but now he knew he had never lied.

-

He perked up as his soulmate walked on screen, wearing a crimson dress/suit with delicate details on the chest that reached down to their waist. His brow twitched as some of the crew booed at his soulmate and chucked food at the screen.

(i made three of these so be prepared)

He ignored them, keeping his eyes on his beautiful soulmate. Their sparkling (e/c)s looked straight at the camera, looking as if they hoped they could see him through the lens.

They looked away a moment later, tuning and walking onto the ship for cotillion.

Every time the camera panned over them during the main event, Harry felt his heart flutter, just wanting to hold them in his arms again.

When Uma turned into the giant cecaelia, the water from her emerging from the sea had destroyed the cameras, cutting off the crew from watching her take over, and Harry from seeing his soulmate.

He cursed to himself, wishing he had told Uma of (y/n) before she left Uma wouldn’t accidentally hurt her.

All he could do now was wait.

-

It was two years before he saw his soulmate again, only getting glimpses of them through a cruddy screen, but their eyes always seemed to shine through the fuzzy and fading tv.

He and Gil snuck up behind the unsuspecting core four, leaping through the closing gap of the barrier and for the first time, stepping outside of the prison they called home.

“We did it!” he and Gil hugged each other for a moment before remembering the vks next to them, who were staring at them bewildered and apprehensively.

“uh, hey guys~!” He sang, giving a small wave before turning to Gil and gesturing towards the other end of the bridge “we were just coming for a wee visit~!” and to see (y/n) but they didn’t need to know that.

As he and Gil tried to push past the core four, Carlos and Jay pushed them back, Harry growled a bit and shoved Carlos, the younger teen bumping back into Mal and making her drop the small blue crystal in her hand.

“hey-hey!!” as she ducked down to grab it, harry swiped down with his hook and then threw his arm to the side, sending the crystal into the sky and dropping down into the sea. “no!” Mal screamed, stilling as a large turquoise tentacle reached up and grabbed it.

Uma rose from the sea, Harry and Gil looked at each other as they realized their captain and friend had returned “Drop something~” Uma purred, the tentacle holding the crystal opening to show it to Mal.

“It can't get wet, give it back before it goes out!” Uma cackled at Mal's plead.

“Uma?!” Harry and Gil yelled, the sea witch looking at them with a smile and wave.

“that’s my name~!” moments later she ducked back under the waves, Mal screaming out another objection.

The water rose up in a tunnel, rising higher than the broken bridge the vks were standing on. It burst out, spraying them with water.

Harry and Gil looked back over the edge, looking for their friend “hi boys~” they spun around, Harry grinning and holding his hook up as Uma grinned back at him.

He cackled as he walked toward her “welcome back~” Uma’s smile diminished for a moment as Gil looked at her with sad eyes.

“Uma, you swam off and forgot all about us” Mal scoffed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

“yeah, planning a revenge no doubt” Uma laughed a bit, stepping away from her boys and giving a nasty smirk to Mal.

“it's not all about you Mal” Mal seemed surprised and appalled at the comeback “I was looking for a hole in the barrier, to let everybody out?” she turned back to Harry and Gil, who grinned at her “and you know what I found boys? It’s way better out there than we thought” she walked a bit closer to them, an excited spark in her eyes. “there's this thing that looks like a furry rock, called a coconut. And fish so big you can dance on their backs!” Uma looked back at Mal. “and they’ve been keeping it all for themselves~” Harry clicked his tongue in disappointment, shaking his finger a bit.

“Whatever, Uma I need that to break a spell” Mal held her hand out as if expecting Uma would just hand over the crystal with just her word.

“Cast by sleeping beauty’s daughter Audrey” Carlos continued, watching as Uma pursed her lip in fake concern.

“so, the good guys the bad guy huh?” she let out a soft laugh “well I might not give it back, just to see what happens~”

“Uma it's not the time for games, people’s lives are in danger!” harry felt his heart stop as an image of (y/n)s body came to mind, unable to move as darkness swirled around them. He shook his head, forcing his mind to pay attention to what was happening right in front of him.

“Guarantee me, that every single villain kid who wants too, can get off the isle” Mal glared a bit and shook her head.

“I can't do that” Uma just gave her a ‘really bitch’ look and walked towards the edge of the bridge.

“can't do that huh, well how bout now!” she held her hand over the edge, dangling the crystal between her fingers.

“Deal!” Mal yelled, a satisfied smirk growing on Uma’s face as she watched Mal panic “Deal.” Uma faked a stumble, Evie calling out her name to stop her from dropping the crystal.

“Uma!” Uma looked over to Evie with a satisfied look on her face “her word is good” Uma stepped away from the edge, bringing the crystal to her face and glancing from it to mal before shaking her head

“I’ll still keep this, for the time being,” Mal scoffed, crossing her arms again “because if you think I trust you to save the world on your own, think again” Uma turned back to Harry and Gil, a wide grin on her face “this is a job for pirates!”

And with a ‘friendship’ suggestion from Evie, the vks were off to Auradon in an attempt to save it.

Another two hours, finding a courtyard of sleeping students, fighting spelled suits of armor, and then finally being sent off to find Ben, Harry was…bored.

He, Jay, Carlos, and Gil had been walking for thirty minutes through the enchanted forest but had noticed the colors around him had started to brighten, unlike they were on the isle.

‘the farther you are away from your soulmate the duller the world will be’ he remembered his mother telling him when was a babe, and it proved to be true after he met (y/n) and when they left the isle was dull again, he could see the colors but they were so drab and grey that it felt like he never found them at all.

He glanced down at his hook, smirking as his ocean blue eyes seemed to awaken with color again, the grass below him fading into that fresh green he had only heard about, looking up to see Jay and Carlos’ colors standing against the earthy tones of the forest.

He was close to his soulmate, he had to be, all he had to do now was find them as he promised.

If only a cursed beast Ben hadn't interrupted him. Jay pulled his arm out of the way, Harry spinning on his heel and sending a right hook at beast Ben's face and yelping as he turned and leaped at him.

Jay grabbed his jacket and forced him to bend back and leaned Harry towards himself, Harry spun himself back around, standing just behind Jay.

“yeh need some serious nose adjustments!” Harry snarled, flinching back as Ben roared. Ben looked between him and Gil, and snarled, leaning back on his haunches and about to leap at them.

Harry and Gil stepped back as he leaped forward, reeling his claws back to slash when a silver hilted cutlass flew between them, sticking into a tree just next to them.

The boys turned, Harry's world exploding into bright color again as he laid his eyes on (y/n). then his breath stopped as he looked at their clothes. A black button-up shirt, unbuttoned down to the middle of their chest, black ripped pants that had belts and buckles on the right leg, tall dark brown worn boots, multiple necklaces hanging between the open sides of their shirt, silver and gold rings, leather bracelets, and red and black skull stud leather fingerless gloves. “wow” Harry croaked, taking another step back as Ben swiped at (y/n).

They ducked under the swipe and ran towards the silver hilted cutlass, flipping it in their grip and blocking a couple of swipes from Ben's claws. Within moments they trapped Ben down on his front claws, raising their brow as a sharp dark object caught their eye.

They quickly ripped out the object out of Ben's paw and leaped back as Ben roared in pain and swiped his claws up “Jane now!” (y/n) called, backing up near the boys and looking at Harry, a smile growing on their face.

Suddenly a spray of water hit Ben, a soft glow and sparkles appearing as the beast form shrunk down into Ben's human form. Jay ran forward to go help Ben as (y/n) and Harry stared at each other.

The world around them blurred away and it seemed like it was just them. Gil looked between them and smiled, turning to go join the boys and Jane as Harry and (y/n) stepped closer to each other.

“I told yeh we’d see each other, again didn’t I?” Harry hummed, letting out a soft chuckle as (y/n) bit their lip and nodded.

“yeah…how’d you get off the isle?”  Harry shrugged, looking down at (y/n)s hands and wanting to hold them.

“Malsy and the others wanted ta get the crystal or whatever n’ Gil and I took the chance to escape” (y/n) giggled, smiling at him.

“well, I’m glad you took the chance” Harry smiled back, eyes glancing back and forth between (y/n)s eyes and their lips.

“Harry, (y/n), come on, we’re heading back to Evie’s place” Gil forced them out of their little world, scaring (y/n) a bit as they snapped their head to look at Gil “sorry, but we’re leaving now” Harry sighed, closing his eyes a bit and nodded.

“Alright, we’re coming”

-

Uma blinked in surprise as she stared at Harry and (y/n)s intertwined hands “alright I missed something and I would like to be told what I missed” Harry looked around, sighing in relief as Gil entered the back room they were occupying.

“um, so yeh remember when we were fightin’ the others over Ben ‘n the wand?” Uma slowly nodded, her eyes glancing from their hands to (y/n) “um, well, um….yer hair is turquoise” Uma stared at him as if he was insane before it hit her.

“no.fucking.way~!” Uma squealed, a bright grin blooming on her face. Her hands flashed up to cup her cheeks “aww how cute!...why am I talking like this? Why can't I stop?” Uma continued to talk in a high pitched voice, looking from Gil to Harry slightly confused.

Harry snorted a bit and covered his mouth, looking away as Gil just started to laugh “you sound like you ate a lot of that balloon stuff” he chuckled.

“inhaled, you can’t eat helium Gil” (y/n) supplied, giving a soft smile to the sea three “I’m glad you approve Uma”

“Why wouldn’t I? you’re his soulmate. If I didn’t approve, I’d look like an asshole” Uma laughed “even if you are an Auradon kid, I can tell you’re one of the cool ones” Uma gestured to (y/n)s skull-themed clothing items, such as the gold coin necklace with a skull in the middle.

“oh” (y/n) snorted “that, yeah, I’m technically an Auradon kid I guess, but I’m different for one reason” Uma, Gil, and Harry looked at (y/n) with raised brows “I’m the descendant of the two most legendary pirates in the world~” Harry's eyes sparkled in excitement, tightening his grip on (y/n)s hand and bringing up, forcing (y/n)s attention to him.

“Who are they?” (y/n) giggled at his enthusiasm.

“Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner.”

Harry's jaw dropped, and he just stared at (y/n) for a minute “wh-why is he staring at me like that?” (y/n) chuckled, slightly unnerved with the look in Harry's eyes.

“he’s just happy that you have such bomb ass parents” Uma laughed, patting Harry’s back and walking out of the room with Gil “yall get to know each other better, we’ll be with the others”

(y/n) nodded, looking back at Harry and reaching up to cup his face. He shook at the touch and blinked, a smile replacing his awed look “yeh are so damn cool”

(y/n)s cheeks turned dark at the compliment “so um-“ they quickly thought of a way to turn the attention off of them “do you have any siblings?”

“aye, two sisters, Harriet and CJ, Harriet’s the oldest and CJs the baby” (y/n) smiled and took Harry's hand again, leading him to the window seat in the room and making him sit.

They sat down next to him and continued “I have an older brother, his name is Henry, and a soon-to-be sister-in-law, Carina. Um, what's your favorite food?”

“oooh battered fish fries, Uma makes really good ones”

“I’ll have to try them sometime.”

-

(y/n) watched with sad eyes as the limo with her soulmate drove back to the isle, twisting the ruby ring Harry had given them before he left.

It was slowly losing its color the farther the limo got.

“I’m sorry (y/n)” Ben muttered, trying to comfort them as they both watched the limo drive off “If I knew…I would have invited him to Auradon a long time ago”

“there's no point in saying that now” (y/n) muttered, shrugging off Ben's arm and walking back inside the dorms, ignoring the tears that were trailing down their face.

-

(y/n)s heart pounded as their shoes slammed against the bridge ground, just across from them as Harry, who was running straight towards them.

“Harry!” (y/n) screamed, feeling tears once more burn at their eyes and stream down their face. Harry screamed their name back, opening his arms as they finally reached each other and held onto (y/n) tightly, picking them off their feet and spinning them around.

“I’m here love, I’m here”

(y/n) pulled back for a moment, staring into Harry's ocean blue eyes, before they grabbed the lapels of Harry's jacket and pulling him in for a kiss.

Harry hummed and tilted his head, his hands drifting from (y/n)s hips up to their face, gently brushing his thumb against their cheek.

“I think our (y/n) is in good hands” Elizabeth hummed, watching from the Auradon side as her child was finally reunited with their soulmate.

“I think so too” Will muttered back, grabbing onto Elizabeth's hand and pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles.

Harry pulled back from (y/n) and looked down, grinning at the black and red outfit they were wearing “I like yer look”

“Thanks, I got inspiration from my soulmate” (y/n) laughed, pressing a kiss to Harry's cheek and pulling him to Auradon.

-end-

hoped yall liked it, personally some of it went pretty fast but i was just trying write something to warm up instead of making everything make sense lol

permtaglist

@queer-cosette​ @sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012​ @daughter-of-the-stars11​

@musicarose​ @remembered-license​

@random-thoughts-003​ @descendantsobsessed​

@rintheemolion​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​

@imtryingthisout​ @verboetoperee​ 

[fleckcmscott]

Bewitching Hour

Summary: October has been a blissfully busy month. With Halloween around the corner, Arthur and Y/N have some planning to do.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 4,665

A/N: Special thanks to @hhandley80​ for this request! You've been so supportive and sweet. I truly appreciate you and hope you enjoy it!

On a side note, my oneshots will be more sporadic. I'm still writing but life has been life. Also, I've finished the first draft of another multi-chapter featuring Arthur and Y/N. It's going to take time to rewrite the subsequent drafts and edit, edit, edit. The chapters will go up once the story is ready. Thanks for your patience and support! 🙂 I heart you all!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask! 

Arthur's suggestion that they make plans to celebrate Halloween should not have been a surprise. He loved starting traditions with Y/N, and she prized adopting them with him. "It's been awhile," he'd said as they'd walked arm-in-arm to the laundromat. "I think it'd be nice."

Holidays had been a source of merriment most of her life. The beauty of red and green decorations at Christmas. Turkey and mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving. An egg hunt and chocolate rabbit at Easter. The togetherness of family during them all.

Halloween, though, wasn't a favorite.

As a child, she'd had fun trick-or-treating, riding her bike from house to far-flung house. And she hadn't minded escorting her little sister as a teenager. Y/N's homemade witch costume had been passed down. She could still recall the sleekness of the ribbon between her fingers as she'd secured the pointed hat under Mabel's chin.

But the magic had fallen away. When married to Jeff, she'd had to attend his boss's annual party. After receiving an apologetic shrug and kiss, she'd be relegated to hanging out with the other wives. They'd included her in their recipe swaps, in their exchanges of mild gossip. Her natural friendliness made chit-chat easy, far easier than having a good time. Those evenings had been spent nursing a glass of wine and willing the clock to go faster.

During the period she'd cared for her father, she'd tried to hand out candy. She liked being a good neighbor and imparting kindness in the form of bite-sized sweets. As his health had declined, the porch light had gone dark. Random rings of the doorbell would result in shouting and swearing. Repeated attempts to explain the door's lock wasn't broken. Festivity would transform into drudgery. It hadn't been worth the trouble. Instead, she'd watched terrible TV specials while her thoughts wandered to a future far from Boonville. A future she'd doubted would ever be.

"I don't know if it's your thing," Arthur had continued, bringing her back to the present. "But you might enjoy it with me." The response he longed for was evident in the worrying of his pocket, outlines of his knuckles visible through the tan cloth.

Everything they'd experienced together had soothed the sting of those wasted years. The hesitancy lurking in her was silly. Unwelcome. Less than either of them deserved. She'd met his keen eyes and half-smile. The sudden mental image of him dressed as a cowboy or pirate, eyepatch and all, prompted a laugh. Convinced her as she dug out her dry-cleaning stub. "It isn't my thing," she'd said. "But you are."

Relief had relaxed his wrinkles, save for his crows feet, which had deepened as he'd returned her happy expression. A slender arm wrapped around her waist, drew her against his solid frame. Once the clerk disappeared through the swinging doors to retrieve their clothes, Arthur grasped her chin and kissed her. The tender explorations were soon sloppy, and she'd giggled, his enthusiasm becoming her own. Their noses had met, his lashes resting on his wide cheekbones. "I think you're the sweetest treat, Mrs. Fleck."

Currently, Donahue's Department Store, Gotham's number one retail emporium (if the ads were to be believed), was bustling with last-minute shoppers. Weary mothers escorted their babbling children through the aisles. Clerks swapped out displays for the changing blue light specials. Lines went for yards. Patricia and Y/N sought refuge at a corner table in the café on the top floor. The warm glow from the pendant lamps provided a relaxed ambience, one that matched the hot cider and pumpkin spice cake they were savoring.

"I've got my grandson on Sunday," Patricia said between bites. "My daughter's going to a party with a medical records tech from Gotham General. Met him when she missed the bus. They split a cab and hit it off." Chuckling, she lifted her mug. "Speaking of, how's married life been so far?"

Memories of the past week quickened Y/N's heart, until she thought it might stop. How Arthur had gripped her replacement Social Security card, just to read her new name. The way he'd grab her for a twirl whenever they were in the kitchen. The reverence in his gaze when they'd lay together after sex, a look that both thrilled and made her blush. "The bills for his medication and appointments will no longer make us cringe," she deadpanned. She lowered her fork. "When we met, I was kind of blindsided - I'm not the type to fall in love quickly." The corners of her lips tugged up. "Being married to Arthur feels like a habit. A habit I should have learned twenty years ago."

"I'm glad you found each other." Patricia reached across the light brown table and covered Y/N's hand, gave it a squeeze. Then she wiped frosting from her mouth and nodded in the direction of the escalator. "Now let's find a costume that'll drive him nuts."

Beyond the colorful cosmetics and pungent perfume counters, they sorted through racks of vinyl smocks and plastic masks. Pop culture icons and princesses. Vampires and spooks. Knockoffs of classic movie monsters. Most were poorly made and decidedly uninteresting. Y/N pawed through accessories in a nearby basket, a cigar here, a patched hat there. "How about a hobo? I could steal Arthur's tie."

"This was his idea. Give him something a little exciting." After a roll of Y/N's eyes, Patricia held out a plastic display bag. "Found it."

The white font on its blue label declared she should "Create a unique look!" A woman in a leopard-print leotard and bow-tie wore black cat ears and a tail, the only two items included in the set. Y/N's nose wrinkled. "I don't think so, Patricia." She rummaged through another bin and examined a hockey mask. "I don't show a lot of skin."

"You show Arthur." Patricia ignored Y/N's glare, continuing to shove it at her. "Every man loves a woman dressed as a cat. Our next lunch is on me if I'm wrong."

Patricia could be relentless, but Y/N had to admit she was usually right. She arched a brow as she eyed the costume. Maybe she could find a solid body suit instead of animal print. The kit was only $2.98. And her friend had made it a challenge. "You're on. But I'm not wearing a bow-tie." She crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her mouth. "Your turn. Would Robert like you as a French maid or a go-go dancer?"

~~~~~

It was a busy season for performers. Arthur remembered HaHa's talent agency being booked solid for October by the end of August. Myriad functions at nursing homes, parties, and children's organizations took place throughout the city. Amusement Mile had a series of special events, allowing Arthur to work extra hours before the slowness of winter dragged in. Once the holiday was over, he'd buy make-up and props on clearance.

He'd always assumed he would like Halloween - if he'd had the chance to celebrate it properly. It was about connection, something he'd never managed. The customs gave him a pretense, a template to meet people, rather than leaving him wondering how to go about it. Provided a hiding place for his seeming inability to act normal.

Recollections of the day were few but vivid. When he'd been around eight, there'd been a party at school. The teacher had made brownies and given the students a half-hour respite from lessons. (A welcome relief, since he wasn't very good at most of them.) But he hadn't had a costume. Hadn't known how to reply when the other kids asked where it was. Not wanting to be left out, he'd pocketed a watercolor pallet and sneaked to the bathroom.

The teacher (he wished he could remember her name) had walked in as he'd smeared green and blue on his face, a pathetic attempt at a turtle. Fear of punishment had caused his laughter. But her kindness as she knelt, wiped away tears and pigment with a scratchy, brown paper towel, had calmed him. "Wait here," she'd instructed. It had taken all his courage not to run home.

After some minutes, she'd returned, an old white sheet in one hand, black marker and pair of scissors in the other. "The nurse won't miss this." She'd traced eyeholes, helped him cut them out. She'd asked questions. About his mother and what it was like at home. Questions he was at a loss for how to answer. Finally, she'd draped the cloth over his head. "There," she'd declared. "Gotham Elementary has its own ghost."

Even as he'd gotten taller and the sheet no longer went beyond his knees, that costume had remained his go-to. He'd venture out to the rest of his building, knocking on paint-chipped doors and pushing broken buzzers. Having learned to stay away from doors that yelling or funny smells emanated from, he hadn't gotten a lot of candy. What he had collected he'd shared with Penny. The wax lips became a free toy. He wasn't sure his memory of startling his mother and being tickled until he couldn't breathe was real or imagined.

At twelve, he was told he was too old to go trick-or-treating. He'd starting scrounging for change to buy hard candies at Helm's Pharmacy. They weren't particularly appetizing, but they'd been what he could afford. Only a few kids rang, a number that dwindled further every year. Most neighbors kept their distance, likely aware he was troubled. Cinnamon discs and butterscotch drops had loitered around the apartment for months. He'd sucked on them in an attempt to cut down on his smoking, just to save money. It hadn't worked.

Y/N hadn't spoken about the holiday, not the way she had other special occasions. At first, he'd thought it had slipped her mind. Work, planning their honeymoon, completing the red tape required to meld all aspects of their lives had taken up much of their time. But, given her reluctance to talk in detail about her past heartache, he'd come to assume her Halloweens had been unpleasant. He was certain he could change that.

Sitting on the dingy, dark green plastic seat of the train car, he giggled to himself, chest puffing up as he straightened. They'd been man and wife for eight whole days. Movies and songs said love was supposed to be somewhere between serendipitous and fated. A happy accident that was meant to be. Lying awake at night, he would find himself wondering where they were on that scale. If the emotions swirling through him - the excitement of belonging, the fear of fucking up - were what every newlywed felt. Then Y/N would snuggle closer in her sleep, murmur nonsense into his skin, and for a few minutes he'd be at peace.

Years had been spent trying to figure out who he was. Trying to find an identity, his role within the world. While he was still searching, it had been far easier to become accustomed to the role of "husband" than he'd dreamed.

Teaching his wife about events across the city had been a delight. Gotham Village's Annual Costume Extravaganza was a parade that went all the way to Gotham Square. He'd participated a couple of times, never formally registering but slipping into the clown section. It had been exhilarating. Had allowed him to pretend, for a little while, that he was being seen. That the crowds lining the sidewalks were cheering for him. Signs for extravagant balls were plastered on billboards and lampposts throughout the streets; he'd have gladly attended and shown her off. A haunted house was being held in a building in his old neighborhood, a fundraiser for the orphanage. He hadn't brought that up.

In the end, once he'd explained trick-or-treaters went from apartment to apartment, they'd decided on a cozy evening at home. The details had been left to her. Whatever she'd plan, he'd love it. He wondered what she'd disguise herself as. Would she be a sexy devil or nurse, like he'd seen on a sit-com? The notion sparked a fire in his cheeks.

Given how busy he'd be, he'd stay dressed as plain, old Carnival. Part of him regretted accepting two gigs, especially on a Sunday. He would have preferred her company. But he wanted to put the money towards the wedding band he'd put on layaway. (Even though they had one account, he wasn't going to let her chip in for it.) He should already be wearing it for all of Gotham to see.

The lurch of the subway prompted him to rise and grasp the pole grip. His stance widened as it came to a halt, knees bending with the instinct of a man who'd ridden public transportation since he was a boy. As soon as the graffiti-covered doors parted, he stepped out onto the platform and ascended the stairs, eager to share his new insurance information with Dr. Ludlow.

~~~~~

Scratchy violins and the hum of a theremin. Shrill shrieks and cracks of thunder. A cackle resounded, then a pipe organ, playing a melody in a minor key.

There was no doubt about it. Halloween spirit had saturated 4A.

NCB's Movie Marathon Mayhem had begun at 10:00 AM. Y/N had had it on since getting out of the shower, hoping to catch a horror classic while she decorated the apartment and prepared Bloody Mary mix. As she hung cotton batting between the television's rabbit ears, creating a long, narrow spider-web, she realized they were only playing cheesy B-movies. Giant insects threatening buildings. Science experiments gone wrong. Alien invasions. Oh well. At least she wouldn't have to pay much attention to get the gist of the plots.

The orange plastic platter, black bats along its edges, had been an impulse buy. She thought its array of sugary skeletons, candy bracelets, and Jolly Jack chocolate bars would be well received. But having seen only one or two kids in the lobby, she had no idea how many children lived in their building. She hoped she'd bought enough.

The cardstock window decorations she'd found were festive and matched Arthur's sweet nature. One portrayed a warted, green witch flying on a broom past a full moon. On the other, a ghost and mouse shared a pillowcase of candy and wished a "Happy Halloween." She held the tape dispenser between her teeth as she stuck them to their white front door.

Just then, the elevator dinged. Glancing to her left, she saw Arthur stroll down the cheerfully lit hallway. Buoyant expression on him, despite his white, blue, and red make-up being streaked from sweat. Striped prop bag on his shoulder and carved pumpkin cradled in his arms. "The store owner was going to throw it out," he explained with a half hug. "But he let me have it as a tip."

Classic, triangular eyes evoked the annual carving contest her parents had taken part of back home. Her father had been well-known in the community, being the town's only doctor. Entering the competition had been expected. They'd never won but enjoyed it all the same. Y/N had picked out the patterns and scooped out the squash's slimy innards. Her mother had baked the seeds. Peals of their laughter echoed in her ears, and a lump formed in her throat.

She swallowed hard against it. Dammit, Y/N. Get it together. This was supposed to be a special night for Arthur and her. She needed to distract herself. One of his curls peeked out from under his bald-cap and green wig. She twirled a strand around her finger. "With that toothy grin, it just might be your twin," she said. He pecked her temple, the kiss sticky from greasepaint. She lit the half-melted candles using his red lighter and put the jack-o-lantern just outside their door.

While he freshened his paint in the bedroom, she slinked into the bathroom to change. Arthur's and her routines were closely aligned; keeping her costume hidden had not been easy. The headband holding the furry cat ears was quite stiff, its teeth a tad sharp on her scalp. Once it was in place, she hid it under her hair. The lint on her form-fitting stretch top and leggings reminded her why she rarely wore all black. She retrieved her brown eyeliner from the nearby shelf and started in on her whiskers.

Arthur's footsteps neared, heavy due to his clown shoes, and Y/N turned to lean back on the sink. His thin lips parted as he scanned her body, forehead furrowed in pleasant surprise. His reaction planted a seed of bliss in her belly, one that bloomed every second they regarded each other. The lunch she'd have to spring for was well worth the pink shells of his ears. Eventually, she held out the fluffy, wired tail and a safety pin. "Would you pin this just below my waistband?"

Fingers grazing hers, he took it and sat on the toilet lid. He cupped her hips and pulled her closer, positioned her until the dampness of his breath hit a bare sliver of her back. "Hold still," he murmured, his voice sending a tingle through her. At his gentle ministrations, the spandex of her leggings felt snugger. "Did you- Did you read my journal?"

A faint click of metal as the pin closed. "No." She colored the tip of her nose, frowned at how lackluster the shade was. "I'd never do that. Even if I'm dying for a preview of your material. Why?"

"No reason." A soft huff, his shy smile clear in his answer. "I have an idea." He handed her a washcloth and hurried out of the room. She was patting her face dry when he returned, a fine tipped brush and pot of black greasepaint in his hand. "This'll look better."

Her brow arched. She'd only had her make-up done once; Patricia had invited her when they'd first met. Such an outing was not her preference, but Y/N had accepted, being new in town and wanting to learn about her colleague. There'd been champagne at the counter, which she'd sipped until she'd spent too much on eyeshadow and apricot scrub. The next morning, she'd put the products and a note on Patricia's desk: "I'll never forgive you. Thanks!"

The heat radiating from Arthur prompted her to close the gap between them. She craned her neck towards him, slid her palms to his yellow vest until she held him just below his ribs. His forefinger curled under her chin, lifted it slightly and angled it to the right. The cool, wet brush met her fevered skin. The dusty smell of the greasepaint blended with a whiff of stale cigarette smoke and traces of his sweat. She licked her lips.

The vibration of his chuckle was felt before heard. "I really like your costume," he said lowly. Two more ticklish caresses of the bristles on the apple of her cheek. "If you're not careful, I might werewolf and go wild."

She stretched closer to him, the fervor in his tone going straight to her center. Though he'd been growing bolder, his cocky side wasn't often revealed. She wanted it, thirsted to see more of the wild horse kicking inside him. Her touch ran over his chest, until she dipped under his black suspenders and pulled. "Are you going to gobble me up?"

Teasing strokes on her nose. "Maybe." Then his thumb whispered along her jaw and guided her face upwards. His kiss was supple, slow, a drag of his mouth as his tongue sought entry. She yielded, the simmer of anticipation bringing her to her toes. He groaned deeply and palmed her thigh, then fondled the curve of her rear-

The ding-dong of the doorbell halted them. He lifted his head and laughed, gaze sparkling. "I got paint on you."

She twisted in his arms and looked in the mirror. The whiskers caught her eye, embellished at the ends with dainty curlicues - his skill never ceased to impress her. Red brightened her lips and streaks of white were on her cheek. "It's all right. They'll just know I've been necking with a clown."

~~~~~

The sound of the bell continued. Over and over and over. More than it ever had in Otisburg. There were mummies, ghosts, a couple of skeletons. A superhero proudly displayed his red cape and blue tights, and a kid in her karate robe went on about her yellow belt. A tiny clown, too young to walk, was brought by her sister. As Arthur made funny faces, the baby cooed and tried to take his red, foam nose. Arthur parted with it gladly.

Only one member of the Wayne family appeared, slicked back hair and pompous pout making the disguise complete. The man accompanying the boy introduced himself as their upstairs neighbor and shook their hands. After one look at Y/N, he nudged Arthur's bicep. "So, she's the one keeping half the building up at night. Good on you, pal." Arthur blinked in confusion as she ushered the guy away, red-faced and muttering about his nerve.

Arthur was overly generous, giving out fistfuls of sweets while taking a few extra seconds to gather his nerves and compliment the costumes he liked best. It felt good to interact with strangers without constantly second guessing himself. Y/N would rub his arm or kiss his shoulder and tell him what a great job he was doing. "Kids are easy," he said, refilling the candy dish. But he reveled in her praises, anyway. And the knowledge that meeting the neighbors was going well.

Clean-up required little effort. The jack-o-lantern sat on their kitchen table, flames flickering as the wicks burned away. The door decor was packed safely for use next year. His plaid blazer was slung over the back of a dining chair and his wig was off. Y/N's decision to leave her whiskers on pleased him - she made a damn sexy cat. He pocketed the last few pieces of candy to snack on during the remainder of the evening.

The Sunday Night Special Presentation she'd picked out, a made-for-TV horror movie, began at 9:00 PM on GBC. Most of its airtime was punctuated by her tipsy snickers and legal wisecracks, which was typical when they watched something stupid. Yet, as the show went on, she grew quieter, barely speaking between sips of her third cocktail. As they sat on the sofa, her posture stiffened. Forearms crossed over her breasts. Her nails dug into her upper arm.

The change started two-thirds of the way into the show, when the plot about a doll running amok twisted into a story about a professional woman trying to assert herself against the demands of her mother. Against the expectations of availability. To fight for the simplicity of having dinner and peace and quiet. It resonated with him, which felt weird. Especially when the film cut to black, the implication being the mother would meet a violent end at the hands of her possessed daughter.

A cheerful jingle came on. Puerto Rico was a direct flight from Gotham Airport, it advertised, a flight that lasted "two hours and fifteen tropical minutes." They should get out while the weather was still good. The juxtaposition of mood broke him out of his ponderings. He flicked off the blaring television with the remote. Then he heard Y/N sniffling.

She set her glass on the coffee table, a slight tremble in her hand. "I need some air," she whispered as she rose, then went out onto the fire escape.

Arthur rubbed his thigh and pressed his lips together. He wasn't used to seeing her cry. Not from sadness. Should he follow her? Give her time? Both had worked previously, depending on the situation. But he wasn't sure what had upset her, what situation they were in now.

Exhaling sharply, he grabbed her glass and dumped the rest of the drink down the kitchen sink. Rinsed their dinner plates and put the slow cooker in the fridge. When he'd finished making decaf coffee ten minutes later, she still hadn't returned. He ambled towards the ajar glass door and stepped out.

Moonlight outlined her shapely figure and reflected off her hair, the silver a contrast to the orange glow of the streetlamps illuminating her face. Her stare seemed fixated on the street below. He followed it to see a group of ghouls and goblins spraying shaving cream on a shop window. A couple, one he'd see occasionally when out for a cigarette, walked down the sidewalk. A woman was half-carrying a drunk man towards a bus stop.

Upon clearing her throat, Y/N spoke. "I may not look like it, but I had a great time with you tonight. The movie just got to me." Relieved, Arthur sidled next to her, wrapped his arm about her back. Her head fell to his shoulder and she smoothed her hand over his stomach. "I don't mean to hide from you. Someday you'll know the details of my earlier life." She scoffed. "When I'm ready to think about them." He entwined their fingers and kissed her hairline, avoiding the wired tips of her cat ears.

Shivering, she took a shaky breath. "There are no skeletons in my closet. Only disappointments." Her voice cracked as she beamed at him, cupped his cheek, and pressed her face to his. "Knowing I'd get to have you would have made those years so much easier."

He held her tightly, massaging between her shoulders. She'd been speaking about herself, but he couldn't help thinking it was about him, too. His years with Penny. His stints in Arkham. The loneliness, the isolation, the endless anger and yearning to be more than a speck of dirt no one cared for. His journal was full of questions about where the hell his one and only was. If he'd known she'd be real, tangible instead of a figment, would existence have hurt less?

Wincing, he tried to push through those thoughts. To focus on her instead of himself. What mattered was that Y/N needed him. Perhaps a joke would cheer her. "I was thinking the other night of how easy it is to smile around you," he said. "You tickle my funny bone." Amusement bubbled in her throat, music to his ears. She released a contented sigh and nuzzled the crook of his neck.

Peaceful stillness ensued as the minutes passed. Though the breeze was chill, goosebumps forming on his pale skin, her affection kept his heart warm. His fingertips rubbed circles into her lower back, and she offered a pleasured hum. Across the way, footsteps pounded. He glanced to see a kid darting up the street, plastic pumpkin pail in tow. The boy's scream was filled with boundless energy: "Happy Halloween, Gotham!"

Snorting, Y/N took Arthur's hand and led him inside. The cheap tail she wore bounced with every exaggerated swivel of her hips. "I've behaved all evening, which your werewolf comment made extraordinarily difficult." She looped her arms around him and flashed a come-hither stare. "May I have a goodie?"

The scrape of her nails on his scalp coiled a knot in his abdomen. "Aren't you supposed to say 'trick-or-treat?'" he asked huskily.

"Your pussycat needs a petting or two." She closed the bedroom door behind them. "Maybe even a mauling."

His brows shot up on a hitched giggle. Then he palmed her hip while she started in on his buttons. Before she got too far, he traced a whisker with the pad of his thumb. Let their foreheads meet and pecked her eyelids. "Only if you give me something good to eat." He pressed into her, his enjoyment relentless, not waiting for her reply before devouring her mouth.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​, @howdylilflower​, @sweet-nothings04​, @stephieraptorr​, @rommies​, @fallenstarsabyss​, @gruffle1​, @octopus-plasma​, @tsukiakarinobara​, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​, @another-day-in-chuckletown​, @hhandley80​, @jokerownsmysoul​, @mrscarnival​

[albapitri]

ALBA!! speak your heart out and tell me your taz grad asian hcs : > I want to hear them please

skjdndbd heLLO VAN!! THIS WAS A SURPRISE BUT I SURE WILL!

These are the biggest personal headcanons in my mind since i’ve got a clear mental image of them.

Fitzroy: Filipino/White

I love Van’s 2nd generation Fitzroy headcanon and I agree wholeheartedly

Being mixed, he’s had trouble feeling really fitting with either group. His mother helped to ground him while he was younger but since attending school (especially Knight School), it’s been harder...

Fitzroy’s mom, Dendra (first generation), made Fitz a lot of traditional foods (like tocino, sinigang, and adobo) like when he was growing up. He loves them and she would pack him lunch when he went to school.

Fitzroy never faced any kind of intense ostricizing as a kid until he attended Knight School. The school was very European and a lot of the rich kids didn’t like the way he acted, dressed, and particularly the stronger smelling foods that his mom sent over. Eventually he asked his mom to stop sending him his favorite foods and starting acting more like the rich kids, pushing down his culture to be more like them.

Though he feels more comfortable around the Thundermen now (especially since Argo and Firbolg embrace their own cultures openly) , he still hasn’t picked his childhood foods back up yet.

Argo: Japanese/Korean + Water Genie

Argo (during his time with Shebrie, he’s grown more distant from it now) was raised in Asian/Pacfic Islander fishing culture ( by virtue of living on a pirate ship with people from all over). As a kid, Shebrie would encourage him to try all kinds of food the crew mates and herself cooked, like (fantasy equivalents) nakji bokkeum, uni, pipipi snail, and natto (Shebrie had taste for it but Argo really did not enjoy it at the time). His mom taught him to make surume (dried and salted cuttlefish) alongside the fish jerky. Argo is willing to try almost anything because of this but has a preference for salty/spicy foods.

Here’s more random ones: He went octopus hunting with Shebrie once. It was all fine and dandy until he caught it and she told him to bite into its head as many Pacific fishing cultures do and all he got was panicked tentacles wrapped around his face and a mouth full of slime. It’s the quickest and most humane way to dispatch an octopus but takes practice getting used too.

Also Argo will not kill moths at all. It’s a tradition (Chinese/Korean or the fantasy eqivalent) that large dark moths around homes are the spirits of ancestors coming to visit the living. He leaves them be and keeps the others from doing anything to them, even if Fitzroy wants “that dusty thing as physically far away from him as possible”.

Rainer: Chinese

She keeps a her gold baby bangle (the Chinese tradition for wealth and prosperity gifted when a child are born) on a necklace under her shirt for good luck.

She is very intune with her Chinese heritage and keeps up with holidays, festivals, and traditions even while she’s away at school.

(This part is my stylization choice) When Rainer reanimateshuman corpses (definitely not as often as her dad does), they have a paper talisman attached to them to facilitate movement and are always willing souls (very similar to taoist jiangshi folklore) . She methodically returns them afterward to their place of burial to ensure the soul does not feel homesick for being left far away from where it belongs.

She, like Argo, also practices letting moths around her dorm and Fitzroy absolutely does not like the way his friends just leave??? insects as large as his hand??? on the wall??? please take it outside rainer, it’s flapping near his face.

[fallenangellinwonderland]

Professor single dad Harry part 3

After dinner the twins were back in the Livingroom playing with the kitten as Harry helped his mom to clean up. They could hear the kids laughing and squealing, Anne wishes for a moment Harry could move to her house with the kids, she feels lonely sometimes and she knows he does too, specially when the kids are with Nala.

Harry walks into the livingroom grabbing the kids’ bags, they still have to do their homework, then shower then get ready for bed, by that time they will want a snack before bed for sure. “Alright, lets go” he announces with a heavy sigh.

Jared and Jensen whine “Please daddy, can we stay a bit longer?” they ask in unison with a thick British accent.

“I promise we’ll come back tomorrow, come on” Harry promises looking at his mom while helping Jared to get his little coat on. Anne helps Jensen and kisses his head when she is done.

“and we can make cookies in Dino shapes, what you say?” Anne kisses Jared’s pink cheek.

“Oh wow!!” The twins look at each other excited and Harry can’t help but chuckle. “Thanks mom, now they will not sleep”.

---

Back at home Harry sits at the table with Jared and Jensen, explaining how to do the activity, they have to cut out some words/images that start with letter “E”, they have glue, scissors and magazines around. Harry stands up to grab a glass of water but after hearing “Jared no!” he turns around and sees he is about to cut a string of his own hair. Jensen little hands are over his mouth. Harry runs to grab the scissors from Jared “You are not supposed to do that. Why were you doing that”

“It’s poking my eye” he explains blinking.

“We’ll get you a haircut, but don’t do it yourself, you could poke your eyes” Harry smiling,  tries to comb his son’s hair with his fingers out of his forehead sitting down with them again, he gets to live the double of adventures, sometimes is fun.

When they finish Harry gives a bath to the boys, they all pretend to be pirates as Harry washes their heads, they make voices and talk about pirates life, he even sings “A pirates life for me”, he wishes he could only be a music teacher, he loves to sing and he is really good at it.

Before bed Harry applies some aloe gel to Jared’s arm, his mom said it helps with almost everything. “Ew..it stinks” Jensen complains scrunching up his nose. “I don’t want to be smelly daddy!” Jared whines worried. Harry promises the smell will go away soon.

They all cuddle in Harry’s big bed watching cartoons, the purple sheets smell fresh and nicely, the pillows are fluffy and comfortable, everything is perfect... perhaps he wouldn’t mind having a beautiful lady with him right there. Both kids are getting very sleepy but they don’t want to leave his side, so he waits until they have fallen asleep and take them both to their bedroom. Back in his room he slides once more in bed but his phone buzzes with a message. For a second he thinks it could be Nala asking for her boys but it’s just a message from the teachers’ group chat on whatsapp. It’s Y/N.

Hi everyone! I’m sorry, I know it’s late but, does someone happen to know which is the email address for sending my lesson plan? I tried the one I was given at school but it’s not working.

Harry smiles reading it, poor girl she might had forgotten to add a letter to the email address and that’s why it isn’t working. No one has replied yet, he decides he should be a nice coworker and send a private message.

Hi Y/N, It’s Harry. The email address is CorneliaST1989@gmail.com

Y/N is biting heir nails as she stares at her computer re reading her lesson plan for next week, she is always anxious when it comes to deliver documents and the fact that the email isn’t working is stressing her. She is sitting right in the middle of her bed and she feels a bit lonely if she is honest, she is a independent , strong woman or at least she wants to believe she is, but she whishes she had someone she could share his day with, don’t get her wrong, her parents were always on the phone ready to hear about her day but she wanted to walk barefoot around the kitchen laughing with her lover as they talk about their day, a buzz from her phone brings her back to reality.

It’s Harry! Her heart skips a beat, he is so good looking, and he texted her, she can’t feel like a teenager, she is the teacher. She reads the message; she had been using the email address.

“Hi Harry, I’ve tried that email but it’s not working”

“Are you sure you didn’t eat any letter, love?”

Love?? How sweet, she can be his love. Not drooling, focus, she reminds herself. She checks the address again CorneliaST1989@gmail.cm. It looked good to her until it hit her.. O. “. cOm..”

“Okay…I might have forgotten one letter. Thank you Professor Harry” she facepalms her forehead

“No problem.  And call me Harry”

She didn’t want to stop talking to him, but what if she came off as a creepy weirdo? “Alright. How’s Jared?! Is his arm better? “

His heart feels warm, she is asking for his boy. “He is doing bette, I rubbed some Aloe on his arm. He’ll be fine”

“Great! I’ll see you tomorrow! Night.”

“Nigh!”

___

The next morning while the twins get ready Harry makes banana milkshakes for them and some hotcakes with honey and blue berries on top, in contrast he had a coffee and a banana hotcake. Jensen takes a sip of his milkshake before speaking “What are you drinking Daddy?”

“Some Coffee, mate. Why?” he asks confused before taking a bite of his hotcake.

“Can we take some to Miss YN?” Harry chokes lightly, he wasn’t expecting that. “You really like her, huh?. Well, I’ll tell you what, we can leave early and buy her a nice drink from Starbucks.”  He can’t just hand YN a normal coffee mug from his counter with a normal coffee, she can get that at school. They will impress her.

Jensen smiles nodding his head happy, he will get his favorite teacher a Starbucks drink.

----

The thing is, Harry didn’t know what Y/N like, how was he supposed to order a coffee for her. He ended up asking the lady from Starbucks which drink she would recommend for his lady friend. And that’s how he ended up holding a “Love bean Frappuccino” as he leans in the door frame in his blue suit, checking his watch, it’s quite late and she hasn’t arrived, Jared and Jensen are in the classroom just talking with their classmates as they wait for their teacher.  He really needs to get going to his class. “Alright, boys stay here, I have to go. I don’t want to see you running around. I love you both”

Y/N alarm didn’t go off, why? She doesn’t know and she didn’t care right now, she was late. She puts her hair in a messy bun and adorns it with a nice ribbon, she does her makeup really quick, and gets dress as quick as she can, button up pink shirt with some cleavage,  a nice cardigan and pencil black skirt and some black heels. She arrived at school 5 minutes before the bell ranged, she was walking fast down the hall as she searched for her phone in her purse. Harry is checking his watch again as he walks, neither of them paying attention. Y/N smashes her forehead against something hard, her hands come up immediately and she feels an arm wrapping around her waist tightly. “WOW!” Harry doesn’t know how but he stretches his arm holding the Frapuchino away whilst his other arm came to hold on tightly whatever hit him to prevent the fall. Her hands resting on his strong chest, she can feel his heart beating fast, she looks up shyly and their eyes meet. She is like a doe lost in the green forest of his eyes. She can even notice a ray of sunshine in them, he is so beautiful…his eyes are so hypnotizing.

[celtics534]

Can’t Fight This Feeling

You guys said you would like a prequel to Shiver and I loved the universe so much that I had to write one! Hope y’all enjoy! 

In case you haven’t read it, here are the links to Shiver: FF.net and AO3

Read this fic on: FF.net or AO3

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ginny walked slowly across the uneven lawn, the precariously high pile of plates shaking ominously with every step. The large extended table was only twenty steps away, but Ginny honestly wasn’t sure she’d make it. Damn her mother for forgetting that she was shorter than her brothers and carrying a stack of plates that was practically her height wasn’t a good idea. 

 “Excuse me, have you seen Ginny? Oh, wait you can’t really see anything at the moment can you?” 

 Ginny didn’t need to see in order to recognize the sarcastic tones of her best friend. 

 She stopped moving, wishing her death glare was more effective through objects. “You know if I had a free hand, my fingers would be giving you a little show

 The heavyweight she was holding lightened as Harry’s grinning face came into view. He held half the stack in his hands. “Does your mother know about your anger issues?” 

 Ginny snorted. “Who do you think I get them from.” She looked across the yard to where Ron and twins lounged by the pond. She jerked her chin towards the lazy group. “What pulled you away from the boys’ club?”

  Harry gave a small shrug, making sure his was stack level as they began to walk in unison towards the table. “I saw you struggling and figured someone better prevent a catastrophe. I do hate it when your mother is upset.”

“You’re such a mumma’s boy.” Ginny placed her pile of chinaware gently onto the table. “Even when it’s not your mum!” 

 “You’re just jealous that your mum likes me better than you.” Harry started setting plates into their places. 

 “She only likes you better because you suck up to her.”

“Which gets me fresh biscuits every time I come over, so I think it’s fair to say I’m the real winner here.” 

 Ginny couldn’t help but laugh at his childish grin. “Such a conniving scoundrel, Potter.” 

 “And don’t you forget it, Weasley!”

 Together they placed the final plate and cutlery set in the correct place. Ginny sat down in the end seat, sticking her feet out in front of her. “You know in olden days, you’d probably be marked as a pirate.”

 Harry leaned a hip against the corner of the table as he smirked down at her. “I think I’d prefer the title of marauder. Sounds more mystical and cool.”

 Ginny rolled her eyes. “At least that would be one cool thing about you.” 

 Harry’s jaw fell open in mock consternation. “How dare you. I’ll have you know people think I’m very cool. Hip even.”

 “What liars have you been talking too?”

 “Your mum.”

 That got Ginny. Her deadpan broke as she snorted with laughter. Her head fell back as her giggles took possession of her body. After a moment she looked up at Harry’s smirking face. “My mum is your coolness adviser?”

 Harry nodded emphatically as if she were a fool for questioning it. “Fuck yeah! Molly Weasley is the most fashionable person to walk this Earth.”  

 Ginny had to bite the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from encouraging him. “Oh really?”

 Again his nod was certain. “Duh. Who else would I use as a judge of character? I mean you’re great and all, Gin, but you don’t come close to holding a torch to your mum.”

 She stuck her tongue out at him. “Whatever you say, marauder.”

 “See it’s already catching on!” 

 Before Ginny could tell him what else he would catch (a nice dead leg and possible bruise), the woman of the hour shouted from in the kitchen. “Ginny, dear, could you come back and help me?!”

 “Fuck.” Ginny’s muttered curse made Harry laugh. She rose slowly, already dreading whatever task her mother had come up with. Ginny was always selected to help in the kitchen, and it wasn’t due to her Gordon Ramsey like abilities (though she did idolize his impressive vocabulary).  

 “Notice how she didn’t ask me to help.” Harry’s impishly wide grin only got bigger when she gave his shoulder a light push. “Another perk of being the favorite.”

 “This isn’t favoritism, it’s sexism.” Ginny shook her head. “If I had dangly-bits like the rest of you”— Harry snorted, but she ignored him—“I wouldn’t be stuck mixing batter, instead I’d be allowed to kick all your arses on a shoot out." 

 Harry snorted. "Well to be fair, Ron's been off his game ever since he heard Hermione was dating that Bulgaria bloke, so it wouldn't be hard to kick his arse." 

 Ginny smiled at him innocently. "And what's your excuse?" 

 "Hey!" Harry put a hand over his heart as if she'd offended him, but the crooked grin that curled his lips spoke to his amusement. Ginny loved that smile. It suited him perfectly. A little mischievous yet still friendly enough to be trustworthy. And that was Harry. Cheeky and roguish but one of the most honest and reliable people she knew. “I may not be a striker like you but when I shoot, it’s on target.” 

 “That’s what all blokes say, but then they still miss the toilet bowl so forgive me for being skeptical.” 

 Harry choked on his own spit. “Jesus, Gin!” 

 Ginny merely shrugged. “Just calling it how I see it.” Then before he could come up with some cheeky comment that she wouldn’t be able to ignore, Ginny ran off towards the kitchen. 

 Her mother was pulling a tray of buns out of the oven when the screen door shut behind Ginny. Molly didn’t look up to make sure she had the right child before speaking. “Ginny, will you please grab the butter out of the cold box? I want it to have a chance to thaw before setting it on the table.” 

 Sighing, Ginny accepted her fate of being her mother’s helper for the next while. “Sure. Anything else from there you need?”

 “Hmm. We’ll need a lemon. I want to whip up a treacle tart. As you know it’s one of Harry’s favorites.”   

 Ginny couldn’t contain her snort of laughter. “If that boy could eat only one thing for the rest of his life, he’d choose your treacle tart.”

 “Oh, he’s such a sweet lad.” Molly practically gushed as she placed the sheet down on the counter. “I don’t understand how no one has snatched him up yet.” 

 An image of Harry unknowingly, yet still awkwardly, brushing off girls' attempts to flirt with him came to Ginny’s mind. She smiled down at her freshly collected lemon. “It’s a mystery alright.”

 “I mean really! Look at him! He’s handsome, polite, good with kids. What more could a girl want.”

 “You forgot to mention his tendency to knock things over and nearly handicap blindness.” 

 Molly huffed out an annoyed breath. “Those things don’t matter. Besides.” Ginny looked up to see the mischievous glint in her mother’s eyes. “He only seems to knock things over in your presence."

 Ginny sighed. She could hear the suggestion plain as day in her mother's tone. Molly Weasley was never good at subtle hints when it came to the idea of Harry and Ginny getting involved. From the first time Molly met Harry, she'd insisted he was perfect for her daughter. Of course Ginny had told her mother there was nothing going on between herself and Harry, but Molly had just smiled knowingly, winked before whispering, “Yet.”

 And here they were two years later, Molly still shipping them like her favorite people on a soap opera. 

 “Well, I’m not wrong,” Molly said in a sing-song tone. “There’s a reason a boy becomes a klutz in front of only one girl, and I think you know what that reason is.”

 Ginny couldn’t resist rolling her eyes. “Sure, Mum. Sure.”

 “The sooner you accept it, the happier you’ll be.” Molly moved beside Ginny, who had started to zest the lemon. “I mean just look at him out there with Vic and tell me you don’t feel something.” 

 Ginny glanced up at her dreamy-eyed mother before following Molly’s gaze. Harry was sitting on the grass, his legs crossed in front of him. Victoire, Bill’s one-year-old daughter, sat happily playing peek-a-boo with Harry. Every time Harry hid his face behind his hands, Vic would frown. Then the moment Harry revealed himself, the little girl would clap wildly. Victoire’s laugh carried through the kitchen window. 

 “Yeah, I feel something…” Ginny took a deep breath. “I feel bad for Fleur later when she tries to get those grass stains out of Vic’s white dress.”

 Molly huffed out an exasperated breath of air. “You’re impossible.”  

 “Actually, I feel bad for Bill who’s gonna have to listen to Fleur complain about getting the stains out.”

 Ginny smirked to herself as her mother just shook her head. When Molly walked away, presumably to collect the rest of the ingredients to make the tart, Harry suddenly turned to look at the house. When their eyes met, green and brown, a slow smile curled Harry’s lips. 

 She’d seen that smile a million times. Ginny recognized his dimple that appeared just under the small group of freckles he’d gotten from their weekend beach trip. It was the smile that showed only a few perfect teeth. So if she’d seen it a million times, why did it make her heart thump against her chest?

 Fuck!

 A lump formed in her throat as a shiver ran down her spine. No! No! No!

 Ginny looked away from that adorable grin. No, she couldn’t call it adorable! It was just a smile. She turned her eyes back on the lemon, which in her distraction she had brutalized. Fuck. 

 She’d only thought it was adorable in that way because her mother had influenced her. That had to be it. She’d never thought of Harry in that way before… unprompted into her mind, memories of that cheeky grin over the years made her heart flutter -- Again! 

 Mother fucking tits on a bull!

 Ginny put the zester back onto the counter before falling back into one of the kitchen chairs. What was going on? Why was the thought of Harry’s smiling at her sending her pulse into overdrive? She had known him for years and never felt that rush of… attraction. 

 That’s a lie, Ginny’s inner monologue argued. There had been that time they were at the park and he was pushing her on the swing. While soaring upwards, Ginny had looked over her shoulder and was greeted by a beaming Harry. At the time Ginny had contributed the swooping sensation to the gain in altitude, but looking back on it… 

 A wave of sudden nausea hit Ginny, making her put her head between her knees. She couldn’t like Harry like that. It would ruin everything! Ginny refused to lose her best friend because of some sudden fancy. Because no matter what her mum said, Ginny hadn’t seen any signs from Harry showing he had a… thing for her.   

 “Are you alright, dear?” Molly’s worried tone broke through the panicked discourse going through her mind. 

 She swallowed the lump that had lodged at the base of her throat. “Ye — yeah. I just felt a bit ill for a moment there.” 

 Molly’s hand was instantly pressed to Ginny’s forehead. “Well you don’t have a fever, but you’re paler than a ghost.” She tilted Ginny’s chin up with a finger. “Why don’t you go lie down for a bit? I’ll send someone up to get you when supper is ready.” 

 Ginny took a deep breath. “That sounds good.” She rose slowly onto shaky legs. Taking small, precise steps, Ginny made her way up to her first-floor bedroom. The moment she reached her bed, Ginny plopped face down into her pillows. 

 Her mind couldn’t stop racing. Words like absurd and dangerous rolled around, then an image of his crooked smile would materialize and those phrases would give way to charming and gorgeous. 

 That damn smile! It ruined everything! 

 Ginny shut her eyes, blocking out the little light that broke through the sides of her pillow. She needed to get a grip! It was just a passing fancy, that was all! The next time she saw him, nothing will have changed. It will be him and her. Two Amigos, not one amiga pining after one amigo. 

 “Gin?” 

 Ginny’s eyes shot open as she rolled around to see Harry sitting on the edge of her mattress. Her heart fluttered against her chest as she stared into Harry’s concerned expression. He looked so… precious with that knitted brow and little frown. 

 Fucking hell. Even she couldn’t pretend the butterflies in her stomach were from the little fright he gave her. But it wasn’t because she loved the fact that all that worry was for her. Nope, not at all.  

 Maybe if she lived in a state of constant self deception all of this would go away. 

 His hand came to rest on her knee. The feeling of his thumb brushing back and forth… Get a grip, Ginny! “You feeling better?” 

 Ginny inhaled deeply, refusing to let her conflicted and confused thoughts come out in any shape or form. “I’m feeling… okay.” 

 “You want to come down and eat? If not I can make you up a plate for later.”

 If those butterflies could fucking stop fluttering in her gut, Ginny would greatly appreciate it! She cleared her suddenly obstructed throat. “No, I’ll come down.” 

 His lips curled in a delighted smile as he stood from his post. He offered her a hand up. It took Ginny a full five seconds to muster the courage to take his offer. He heaved her away from her comfortable bed. When he let go of her hand, his arm came to rest around her waist. 

 When she looked up at him, his smile was reassuring. “In case your legs are shaky.”    

 “How are you single?” The question blurted past her lips before her brain could explain why it was a bad idea. “I mean..” she started scrambling for the words to explain. “You do and say things that only boys in films and books do.”

 His brow knitted together as his lips curled in a confused smile. “Er… I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 “It is one.” Ginny could feel the heat expanding across her cheeks. She was thankful Harry’s focus was on the stairs they were climbing down rather than her glowing face. “I mean — you just always seem to know what to say.”

 “Only when I’m talking with you.”

 Ginny stopped at the base of the stairs, turning to fully look at him. “See! That’s exactly what I mean. If you said that to any girl they’d swoon.” Not a word of a lie there. 

 Harry snorted. “If you say so.” 

 She almost blurted how it had worked on her, but for once Ginny managed to bite her tongue. "Don't know why you said it in that tone, by now you know I'm always right." 

 His laugh was loud in the empty kitchen making yet another rush of fluttering wings beat rapidly in Ginny’s stomach. “How could I forget when you seem to remind me at least once a day.” 

 “Only once? Sounds like I need to increase my quota.” Ginny was proud of the quick cheek. She’d been starting to worry that her usual quick wit was going to take a hit due to… whatever was going on with her. If she’d lost her fast commentary, she would lose a main part of their relationship. 

 They’d started to move out towards the garden table in a compatible silence. Harry’s arm still rested over her shoulder. Ginny could hear her family chattering the moment they stepped out of the house. At that moment, everything felt right to Ginny. She was with the people she loved most and the man beside her… 

 “Hey, Ginny!” George was the first to notice her. “Are you feeling better?” 

 Unconsciously, her eyes drifted up to Harry’s smiling face. A pleasant warmth spread throughout her stomach. “Yeah. I feel better.”

 “Great, because we want you to try one of our new sweets.”

 “No sweets before dinner,” Molly scolded from her end of the table. “We saved you two seats.” She gestured to the only remaining chairs. 

 Ginny took the corner spot while Harry took the chair beside Ron. Harry and Ron had instantly bonded the first time they’d met. They both had a love for sweets and when Ginny had introduced them (Ron had come to visit her at school) the two of them had gone off gallivanting to the local bakery while Ginny was stuck in class. When they’d finally returned to her dorm room, they were besties. They weren’t Harry and Ginny level, but Harry didn’t turn down the chance to get a pint with Ron. 

 As soon as her bum hit the cushion, a bowl was passed into her hands. Different conversations around the table merged so Ginny could only pick up bits and pieces. Her father and Bill were discussing the bank Bill worked at, the twins and Ron were debating who had the best chance to take the premier league, and Percy had somehow roped Fleur into listening about the new regulations he was trying to pass on tube seating. 

 “So, Ginny, are you excited for this semester?” Molly asked as she cut up a chunk of potato.

 Ginny nodded enthusiastically. “I’m getting to take quite a few electives this year. And Harry and I are trying to get into the popular botany class in the spring.”

 “Botany? Really?” Molly’s brow rose. “I didn’t expect you to be interested in such a class.” 

 “It’s supposed to be fascinating,” Harry chimed in, his head turned away from the premier league discussion. “And there is a really interesting educational trip you get to take at the end of the semester.”

 He leaned closer to Ginny, under the pretense of looking at Molly. While Molly oh and awed at the news, Harry’s lips came so close to Ginny’s ear that millions of little shivers ran up and down her spine. “Well, maybe not educational, but definitely interesting.” 

 Warmth hit her neck with every exhale of his lungs. Ginny’s entire back erupted in goose pimples as her breath seemed too shallow. God, she was losing it! She simultaneously wanted to run away and lean closer. 

 In her indecision, Ginny’s body decided to place her elbow on the edge of the table… or what should have been the table. The moment slippery butter cooled her arm, Ginny knew she’d fucked up. 

 Praying that no one noticed, Ginny snatched her arm back, letting it fall to her side. Fucking hell she was a mess!

 “What do you think, Ginny?” Molly asked, thankfully seeming to have missed her daughter’s mishap. 

 “Huh?” Ginny couldn’t focus on anything other than the weird slimy yet oddly dry feeling of her butter covered elbow. 

 “Your mum was just asking if you thought you would be able to help her out in the garden more after the botany class,” Harry supplied. Ginny felt something tickling her knee. She looked down, ready to swash whatever bug dared to challenge her, but only saw Harry’s fingers slyly passing her a napkin. He had noticed her incident… and instead of being a prat like any of her brothers would have been, he just quietly helped. 

 And like that, Ginny quit. She couldn’t fight the feeling anymore. The way Harry was causing her heart to race and her stomach flutter. She fancied him and there was no stopping it. When his hand came around, having successfully handed off the napkin, and gently rested on her back Ginny decided she didn’t want to stop it. 

 As she covertly cleaned off the butter, Ginny nodded absently at her mother. “Sure I can.”

 “That’s lovely!” Ginny stopped listening as Molly chattered, instead she glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eyes. He was smiling contently, seemingly focused on whatever Molly said. He was gorgeous, there had never been any doubting that. Plenty of Ginny’s girlfriends had said as much, but Ginny had always just waved them off saying it was just Harry. 

 Just Harry. That was it. He was Harry, her best friend. She honestly didn’t know a better man, except maybe her saint of a father. Ginny had always loved the way her’s and Harry’s relationship felt so natural… and now here she was going to fuck it all up with… feelings. 

 No! She couldn’t do that. Ginny’s heart sank into her gut. She couldn’t risk her friendship with Harry for anything. Ginny didn’t want to be without him, even if it meant she couldn’t tell him how she felt. But even if she couldn’t tell him how she felt, Ginny couldn’t stop herself from enjoying the feeling of his hand on her back. If she couldn’t have it all… well at least she would still have Harry. That’s all she’d had before and that was all she would need now. 

 But as his thumb rolled slow circles on the small of her back, Ginny knew she wouldn’t be able to fight her feelings for him forever. 

[captain-emmajones]

They were at least sleeping together in Camelot. It's never outright stated, but they shared a bedroom and we know the best way to ignore the darkness in you is to get your back broke by your sexy pirate boyfriend

I seriously like how you think anon. And as usual, no one asked for it, but I wrote a smutty OS set just after 5x02. After healing Robin, Emma goes back to the room she shares with Killian. He finds her there, comforts her and things get spicy eh eh. Enjoy <3 

2000 words - Hurt/Comfort to start with and then Smut - Ao3 

Come on, Killian, one, two, three… He was standing outside of the room he shared with Emma in King Arthur’s castle, and he probably looked bloody ridiculous – feet buried in the floor of this damn corridor, forehead pressed to the door and hand fisted.  

 After the incident and Robin almost dying, Emma had fled to their room – to his greatest dismay.

 To say he was worried for her sake was a bloody understatement. He was consumed by fear, a very childish fear that gripped at his heart and weakened his knees. The fear to lose someone he loved.

 (Oh, he was very well aware of the fact that he couldn’t lose her. That it would simply be impossible for him to outlive her. Emma Swan was his happy ending and his one true love, and no one could survive that kind of love.)

 “Come on, Killian,” an angry whisper, at himself, against his petrified muscles. He couldn’t bear to see her hurt, couldn’t bear not to be able to comfort her.

 He cursed once, gathered all of the courage he had left in his heart, and gently pushed the door.

 His eyes took some time to adjust to the darkness in the room. A dim light was nonetheless diffused by a lonely candle lit by her bedside.

 Very reluctantly, his eyes shifted to discover her laying on her side on the bed, arms wrapped around her knees. He swallowed. He almost expected her to look up because of the deafening noise of his heart breaking on the floor.

 “Oh, Swan, my love,” the whisper escaped his mouth without his consent and he rushed towards her side.

 She remained still, appeared almost as a lifeless body on the mattress, and did not give any sign she had heard him. She had taken the time to undress herself and hide behind the covers, and he find comfort in that simple act of self-care.

 Very gently, he brushed a string of hair from her forehead.

 And swallowed, overcome with sadness. Shook his head. “My love, you are so cold,” but before he could search for an extra blanket, her voice echoed in their room: “I’m not cold, Killian.” A breath as she lifted her gaze towards him, “I’m just the Dark One.”

 Bitter tear came to burn his eyes. “Would you like me to hold you, love?”

 There was a shake of her shoulders and he could tell she was trying to swallow down her sadness. “Come on, captain,” she teased him, her voice hoarse, a sob hidden just behind her smile, “You don’t have to ask for permission.” 

 He quickly resumed to undress himself and put on the linen nightclothes the servant had left for them. Meanwhile, she shifted on the bed, giving him space to lay down beside her. Which he did, after having neatly folded his clothes on a chair.

 When he turned back, she was staring at him with an amused smile.

 “What?” he mumbled, raised an eyebrow.

 “Nothing,” she smiled back, and he could tell she loved this new domesticity between them.

 They hadn’t got a lot of time to themselves in Storybook, and being able to share a room was perhaps the only good side of being in Camelot.

 Something to look forward to, he thought to himself, not knowing Fate had others plans for them.

 He was very careful when he slipped into bed with her, on top of the covers – I am always hot, love – and even more gentle when he embraced her, his lips finding her forehead while his arms pulled her towards him. He heard her exhale loudly as she relaxed between his arms, her mouth coming to meet his neck just where his pulse could be felt.

 Perhaps was there some light in the darkness.

 .

 How good it felt to be against him, even after all this time. In spite of the darkness. It was easier, against him, to muffle Rumpelstiltskin’s voice in her head.  

 She was waiting for him to fall asleep, tucked safely between his arms, waiting for his breath to get deeper and his grip gentler.

 She had a smile to herself. It all brought her back to their first nights together, in Storybook.

 Her fingers found his chest, playing with his hair.

 She remembered her frustration after their first date, when it had all ended with a passionate kiss and her fingers in the silence of her room to dissipate this tension in her belly.

 She had, of course, always wanted him, from the very first moment she had laid eyes on him. Wouldn't have been caught uttering the words, though. 

 Following her thoughts, her fingers became more adventurous on his torso, and she soon heard him grunt.

 “Now, that is not very fair, Swan” he mumbled, and his voice was already full of sleep.

 She chuckled, looking up to find a grumpy, tired face staring back at her. She licked her lips, bit them.

 “Well, I am most sorry, captain,” and her words were followed by her fingers sliding dangerously down his stomach.

 She knew he would have never dared to touch her - not like this at least. He had always been very careful with her, to make sure she wanted this just as much as he did.

 To be fair, it had annoyed her a bit when she had come knocking on his door twenty-four hours after their date, unable to control herself anymore.

 She had almost hit the poor Will just out of pure sexual frustration, and if it was keeping her from doing a good job, then it was her responsibility to come knock at Captain Hook’s door and ask him to fuck her brains out.

 “Are you sure this isn’t too soon, Emma?” he had asked her once she had shut the door of his room at Granny’s behind her.

 She had furiously bitten her lower lips, eyeing him with lust. “Too soon? Are you kidding me? I’ve been holding back for far too long.”

 And with those last words, she had jumped on his lips, crashing her body against his, so desperate to feel him all over her.

 Lost in her memories, she found herself leaving chaste kisses over his neck. Chaste kisses that soon became little flames over his burning skin.

 “Emma, are you sure you want –” he exhaled, his breath already short but not daring to initiate anything she did not want.

 She paused, heart at the edge of her mouth, and lifted her face to stare at him. She saw the concern echoing in the soft waves of his eyes.

 “Yes.” A pause, her fingers finding his jaw, “I want you to touch me, Killian.” And with those last words, she kissed him passionately, her arms wrapping around his neck. He exhaled a “As you bloody wish” against her lips and furthered a kiss that left them both aching to feel the other in the closet way possible.

 And then, it seemed like he changed persona. Killian Jones and his gentle hands were replaced by the passion of Captain Hook who pined her against the bed, a moan escaping her lips.

 Oh, how she loved Captain Hook between the sheets. A little rough but with a lot of love. It reminded her of their beginnings, and how much she had wanted him when he was still her opponent and she was desperately trying to convince herself that she really wanted nothing to do with him. Denial was a nasty bitch.

 His hand found hers, tangled their fingers and pined them above her head. His kisses became quicker against her lips, her jaw, the gentle skin of her neck, in between her breasts…

 “Oh, you are wearing far too many clothes, milady,” he mumbled, seemingly disappointed, and rapidly pulled on her nightdress to reveal her breasts.

 Her breath came out in short puffs as he looked up, diving into her eyes once again. Her heart was about to burst out of her chest, she was sure of it. And when he crashed his lips against her, she could have sworn she was nearing heart failure.

 This time, his tongue came in to play with hers, and she shivered imaging it lower on her body.

 He was quick to kiss her down her chest once again, leaving wet trails behind him. He found her nipples and sucked them gently. Her toes were curling as her hands gripped on the blankets.

 He was good. Really good. Or perhaps was she completely in love. Whatever.

 He tried pulling further down her dress, but he got a little frustrated with it and before she could react he had pulled on it too hard…

 “Bloody hell, I hope Arthur wasn’t fond of these…” he mumbled, “Although, I’ll have him know I did it for the greater good,” and it was enough to make her burst into laughter.

 The amused sparkles in his eyes found hers, “You won’t be laughing for too long” he whispered the delicious threat, and kissed her stomach.

 She bit her lips in anticipation and hold her breath. She waited for him to go lower, but he was taking his sweet time, kissing the spot just above her navel. He gently bit the side of her hips, and she moaned loudly this time, unable to stop herself.

 “Fuck,” she whispered, her eyes shut in pleasure.

 She felt him chuckle against her lower stomach, and suddenly he was spreading her legs. She waited for his touch, but he took the time to hold back. His missing fingers would be the death of hers. Frustrated, she gave a small movement of her hips that begged him to touch her again.

 He laughed, again, tempting her.

 “Impatient, are we, Swan?”

And then, very slow and lazy fingers discovered the skin of her thighs, caressing them gently. Those very same fingers traced the shape of her ass, climbed back up to trace the line where her lips met. But did not stay there, instead found the softness of her blonde curls and played gently with them.

 She groaned, “Come on, Hook,” and she knew just how wet she already was under his touch.

 But then he was kissing her, there, and she was about to combust into flames.

 She arched her back, moaning in pleasure when his tongue parted her lips to conquer her inside treasure. His movements became more assertive against her skin, and before she could prepare for it, his tongue had penetrated her in the most intimate way.

 Her heart beat loudly in her ears, her breath uneasy.

 His tongue adventured itself on hidden territories, traced all types of geometrical figures there, and then… he pulled away. She complained about it immediately. “Why are you stopping?” She sounded genuinely angry.

 How dare he…

 She opened her eyes to discover him smiling at her, and she found him so tragically handsome it shattered her.

 And then he was diving back into her. Lord, give her the strength… His tongue met her clit and very gently played with it. Up and down, up and down…Her fingers tangled in his hair as she muffled a moan against the pillow beneath her.

 Three hundred years of practice left her knees shaking when his expert tongue sent her over the edge. But then he stopped. Once again.

 “Killian!” this time she was really angry, and her shaky tone gave it all away. She pulled herself just enough together to mumble “Undress yourself and take me right now.”

 The linen clothes on his body was let down on the floor as he stripped from his modern black boxers. She was happy to discover his cock was full of blood and ready to penetrate her.

 She lifted herself to press a kiss against his lips as her hand found his length and stroke it gently. He let out a moan against her lips.

 “Come on, lay down, Swan,” and she obeyed, giving him space for him to settle between her legs.

 With one hand, he guided his cock to her wet center. She swallowed in anticipation as he gently pushed himself inside of her. She held her breath, waves of pleasure overwhelming her. After all this time, they were an easy match and her walls almost immediately adjusted to him.

 Her hands grabbed his ass as to incite him to go further into her, and he did in one lengthy movement. Feeling him completely inside of her was such a relief.

 “Come on, Hook, quicker…”

 “Your wish is my command,” he exhaled, overwhelmed by his own pleasure, and thrusted deeply into her.

 His movement became more erratic, quicker, harsher, and she loved every second of it. Her hands found his jaw as she dived into his eyes, and she loved the red hue she found on his cheeks.

 With his disheveled black hair and his rosy cheeks, her captain was irresistible under the candle light.

 .

 When they both had come, and they settled to try and sleep the few hours they had left until morning, she found a very small voice whispering in her heart that everything would be okay, so long as she had him.

 (As it were, fate cared little that there was no future for her if not with him.)

[bwemph]

The Measure of Things | Chapter 4 | Just Like Old Times

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: After seeking some quiet on the planet Minikov, a band of pirates attack the inn where you and Din stop for lunch. An old friend, Ra’vena Zapal, urges you and Din to hunt them down and bring peace back to Minikov. The two of you accept the mission, and you prepare to bring down the band of brigands, just like old times.

Word count: 3.0k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, y e a r n i n g, angst

The journey out of the atmosphere was bumpy, to say the least.

The Razor Crest rattled and sputtered as Mando dodged some of the larger meteors that screened Rabadus off from the rest of the galaxy. The smaller rocks knocked against the sides of the ship and rattled the hull.

The baby gave a dismayed cry at the loud noises outside and at the way his pram shook vigorously.

Fortunately, the assailant’s ship couldn’t keep up with Mando and crashed straight into one massive, looming asteroid.

Mando made the jump to lightspeed.

A little red light flashed repeatedly on his dashboard; he was receiving a transmission.

In the moments following, an image of a lanky man with dishwater blond hair who was clad in a grey and red uniform appeared before them on the holoprojector.

His face was wrinkled in some unsavory mix of a wicked smirk and a glower.

“This is Jido Horne of the Star Crawlers,” the hologram spoke. “We demand that you hand over the child, Mandalorian, or else there will be consequences. You saw what we did to your little friend’s shipyard. We won’t hesitate to do the same to you.” Jido’s smirk-glare twisted into a sickening, sparsely toothed grin. “My deputies are transmitting coordinates for a rendezvous as I speak. Meet us there by the end of the week or we will find you and we will light you up like sweet y/n’s boyfriend. Consider this your one and only warning.”

Your stomach dropped to your feet as confusion twisted your features. They knew your name. They knew about you. How? And how did they know about Max? Did Mando say something? Was that what he meant when he said he was here for “work”? Or did these brutes raid the Base’s computers? Who even were the Star Crawlers?

A hundred more questions circled in your brain as you stood and gripped Mando’s seat.

“Mando, what’s going on?” you asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”

His gaze remained set on the hundreds of stars whizzing by in tubes of white light. You weren’t sure if he was just contemplating his response or ignoring you as he sometimes would when he thought he knew better than you.

“Mando.”

His helmet tilted down to the baby in his lap, and he stared back with his wide eyes.

“They’re after the baby, just like everyone else in this damn galaxy!” He brought a fist down to the dashboard in frustration.

The sudden expression of force made you take a step backward, your heart thudding a little in your chest.

A sigh slipped through his vocoder and he stood to face you, placing the child in the pram first. He softened, his head dropping again.  “You never should have gotten wrapped up in this. I’m so sorry.”

“What’s going on?” you asked again, your voice small and shaking a little.

He rested a hand on the edge of the pram, casting a glance as the baby’s hand went over his in a small, comforting gesture.

“There’s remnants of the Empire that have been after the kid for months now. They have whole companies of hunters after him, and not just hunters from the Guild. Now that these Star Crawlers seen you with me, there’s a target on your back, too.”

You fell silent, only finding a nod as a response. You fell back in your seat again, eyes fixated on the floor.

“Are you alright?” Mando finally asked, crouching in front of you to meet your eyes.

His touch on your arm snapped you from your trance.

You gave a heavy, albeit shaky, sigh. “I will be. I...I need a shower.”

He nodded once and stood again. “You know where the fresher is.”

“Thank you.”

***

The water was cold at first, but it warmed up a little the longer you were in the shower. You always seemed to be able to clear your mind in the shower, to restart and refocus.

Restart and refocus looked like letting out your pent up tears. Heavy, ugly sobs wracked your shoulders for you don’t know how long. You tried to keep them quiet, to smother them with your hands, and you could only hope to no avail that you were successful.

Finally, with wet hair and dry eyes, you stepped out of the fresher and found a neatly folded towel and a new set of clothes that probably wouldn’t fit you very well, but it would be a refreshing change from your sweat and grease-covered mechanic clothes.

Those definitely were not there before you got in. You found a tiny smile within yourself. 

After drying off, you took a moment to look in the mirror. To your relief, the hickeys Max left were finally fading away.

Oh god, Max.

He was gone. That Jido character said it himself. Max had been blown up just like HE-27, just like Stantin, just like the entirety of Rabadus Base and most of its staff and the cargo ships and the pilots and--

No. You couldn’t let yourself think like that. Yours, Mando’s, and the baby’s lives were in danger, so you had to focus on the present, the future, and not the past.

“What’s done is done,” you said to yourself, pulling Mando’s tunic over your head.

You returned to the cockpit after getting dressed.

The ship had left lightspeed and you were simply floating in space now.

The baby was fast asleep in the pram, its little snores providing a soft white noise that you thought might have lulled Mando to sleep as well.

But as you entered, his helmet turned in a subtle acknowledgment of your presence. You stood next to him and stared out at the wide expanse of space that stretched out infinitely in front of you.

“What’s next?” you asked.

He tore his eyes from you and flipped on a few switches. “I’ve charted a course for Minikov. We’ll lay low there for a little while until we figure out our next move.”

“Minikov…” you murmured to yourself. It sounded familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where the planet was or why you knew the name. “That’s not where we tracked down Nej Angard and his goons, is it? That time when we nearly got trampled to death by the Irkoxen?”

“That’s the one.”

You swore you heard a hint of a chuckle in his voice as if he too were remembering fleeing across the wide open prairie terrain from the gray and brown cow-like creatures with the sharp, wolfish teeth.

You laughed softly. “I probably haven’t run quite like that since that day.”

“Me either. And I don’t really intend to,” he quipped.

“Well, we’ll see when we get there, eh?”

You sighed a little as the ship left hyperspace. The planet loomed before you, sparsely populated with no ships leaving or entering the atmosphere. 

Mando landed the Crest a little ways away from the main town on Minikov: Besutis. It was the most densely populated place around, which wasn’t saying much, seeing as the population was maybe a couple hundred people maximum.

It was a perpetual early summer on this planet. Flowers were in full bloom, and a breeze cooled the air that steadily heated up as the crescent shaped sun rose higher in the sky.

You and Mando drew many gazes as you ambled through the town toward the tiny inn at the end of the street.

Most of the small, scattered crowd, a healthy mix of humans and twi’leks, likely recognized you. It’s not often you see a Mandalorian with a companion on the same planet twice. Those that didn’t recognize you were probably more intrigued and their gazes were a little more prying. You could see the gears turning in their heads as you met their eyes.

Inside the inn was quiet, nearly deserted. Two or three foreigners sipped on tea in the corners of the room, but otherwise, it was entirely vacant.

A twi’lek woman with crimson skin emerged from the kitchen holding a tray of some kind of freshly cooked meat. It smelled fantastic given your empty stomach that only now started complaining.

She set the food in front of one of the patrons before turning to you and Mando. The corners of her eyes wrinkled as she smiled at the familiar faces.

“Mando! Y/n!” the twi’lek cried in excitement. She bounded over to greet both of you with hugs and handshakes.

“Ra’vena,” you greeted, embracing her warm hug.

Ra’vena grinned, taking a moment to drink in the sight of her two favorite travelers. “What a pleasant surprise it is to see you two again.”

“The pleasure’s all ours,” Mando returned.

“Please, take a seat.” She gestured to the empty tables scattered about the dining room. “Can I offer something to drink? It’ll be on the house, whatever you two need.” Her eyes dropped to the pram that hovered next to Mando, and she laughed softly, caressing the baby’s large ear that drooped as he yawned. “Or, I suppose, whatever you three need.”

“I’m starved,” you said. “I can meet you back at the Crest if you want to eat something too, Mando.”

“That’s alright,” he replied. “I’m sure the kid will want to eat, though.”

Despite the child struggling to keep his eyes open, his gaze was locked on the meat that Ra’vena placed in front of the Rodian across the room.

“I’ll have something right out for you, then.”

Ra’vena disappeared again behind the doors to the kitchen, leaving you with Mando and the baby.

You gazed at Mando for quite some time, trying to find the courage to voice your next thought.

“You came to hide.”

“What?”

You shifted in your seat to get a better look at him. “When you came to Rabadus, it wasn’t for work. You were there to hide.”

“And it took you this long to put that together?”

“No, it just took me this long to call it out.”

Ra’vena emerged from the kitchen again and placed a bowl in front of you, then a slightly smaller bowl in front of the child. “Chef’s special. You two will love it.”

“Thank you,” you replied, taking a spoonful of the piping hot stew. It was just the right balance of spicy and savory, and the right balance of meat and assorted vegetables. You nodded gratefully at Ra’vena before she went to attend to another patron.

You turned your attention back to Mando. “You’re not a step ahead of the competition this time. You don’t even know what you’ll do while we’re here, do you?”

“What’s your point?” There was a coarse edge to his voice; it was just short of a snap.

You reached out and touched his forearm, setting down your spoon. The soft heat of the flamethrower in his brace warmed your bare fingertips slightly. “I want to help you, Mando.” Your eyes dropped to the table and you withdrew your hand, remembering the day you left the Bounty Hunter’s Guild and looked upon the betrayed faces of your found family for the last time. All save for Mando’s, anyway, and it wasn’t just because of the helmet that hid his surely handsome face.

Memories rushed back of the band of hooligans who kidnapped you and Mando, who coaxed valuable and very sensitive information of the Guild and some of its highly sought after members out of you after days and days of interrogation—after days and days of torture. Shame overtook you when you recalled them setting you free, beaten and bruised, but they kept Mando. He hadn’t broken yet. He was too strong for them.

Obviously, he had escaped. Just weeks ago, you heard news of a Mandalorian on the run, and there was no doubt it was him. You just didn’t realize the quarry he had stolen was so small, so...delicate.

You gazed at the baby for a moment before breaking free from your thoughts.

“I know we never really talked about what happened before I left the Guild, but...I just want to put it in the past. We’re here now and as long as we’re both on the run, well, I don’t think we should leave each other behind.” You set your jaw. “Not this time.”

Mando looked around at the prying eyes, but his gaze was enough to make any nosey listeners avert their curious stares.

He lowered his voice, and this time it was he who reached out to touch your hand. “You know I don’t blame you for anything that happened, right?”

You slowly withdrew and wrung your fingers. You gazed at him with wide eyes as you processed that, given that you assumed he was always bitter for being left high and dry in such a tense and dangerous situation.

Maybe it was just your guilt talking to you, though.

“I know you didn’t have a choice,” he went on. “You had no chance barging back in there on your own. Besides,” he chuckled a little to lighten the mood, “I made it out just fine.”

You opened your mouth to respond, a tiny smile playing on your lips. His words eased your anxieties about anything that happened before. He was always good at making you relax with just a few words.

No words had the chance to drop from your mouth when the front door flew open and slammed against the wall so hard that it bounced back and nearly hit the group entering the inn.

Seven human men entered, blasters drawn with sinister smirks on their faces.

Immediately, they opened fire on the staff and customers. 

“Get down!” Mando instructed, flipping the table up so he, you, and the baby could hide behind it.

He drew his blaster and began firing back at the assailants now flooding the inn.

You turned, eyes wide as one of them approached from behind the table. “Mando!” you cried.

He whipped around and shot at the man towering over the three of you, and he slumped to the ground, dropping his blaster. It skidded to a stop at your feet.

Without hesitation, you picked it up and began firing at the two men making a beeline for the cash register where another twi’lek cowered, gritting your teeth as you just barely missed the top of his head, nowhere close to the enemies.

After a couple lucky shots, you were able to cut them down before they could fill their pockets any further.

It wasn’t long before the thieves were eliminated and lay scattered about the inn floor. The disarray eased, and despite the bodies on the ground and shaken up customers, it was as if nothing had happened.

You looked to Ra’vena, who stood in shock for a moment as thought she hadn’t processed the chaos yet.

Slowly, her gaze turned to you and Mando, who was placing the baby back in the pram and closing it in case of any more danger.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice shaking a little.

“Who the hell was that?” Mando asked, a hand remaining on the pram.

Ra’vena swallowed hard, her gaze still stuck on the crumpled man that lay in front of her. “Pirates. Nej Angard hired them. They’ve been terrorizing us for weeks now, and we’ve had nothing to do about it without anyone like you two here.”

“Angard?” you said. “That bastard is still around these parts?”

“Unfortunately.” Ra’vena gathered some spilled silverware across the room. “Gives us a headache whenever he and his men show their faces around these parts. They do nothing but rob our establishments and start shootouts in the streets. We haven’t known peace since they showed up. Mayor Dolpho has a hefty reward for anybody who will bring back Angard’s head.” She sighed. “Nobody around here has much gusto for that kind of thing, though.”

You shared a brief glance with Mando. You already knew what he was thinking.

You could already hear the delighted grin in his voice. “I think I know what we will do while we’re here,”

****

Before heading off to sniff out Angard and the pirates, Mando insisted you come back to the Crest with him. He wouldn’t tell you why.

The two of you left the baby at the inn with Ra’vena, as she assured Mando the child would be safe and well taken care of in her private quarters while you took care of the pirate problem.

“Come on,” you pressed, pushing Mando’s arm gently, “why didn’t we just go straight to the camp? Ra’vena already told us where it was and everything!”

“Well, if we’re going to face pirates, you’ll be needing something more than that blaster pistol.” He opened the hatch, making sure you were following behind him. “Wouldn’t do much for us anyway,” he added.

“Hey!” you fired back. “I’m just rusty is all. With a little more practice I’d be just fine!”

“Well, we don’t have time for practice,” he said, entering the code that opened his small arsenal. “Which is why you need this.”

He pulled a staff from the vault, handing it delicately to you.

Your breath caught as your fingers closed around the weapon. It fit perfectly in your palms, flawlessly balanced as if you had held it yesterday. Your electrostaff.

“You held onto it all this time?” you said, gazing at it in disbelief.

He nodded once.

With the click of a button, the staff lit up with purple electricity at both ends. You took a moment to swing the weapon around, fighting off imaginary foes and planting the ends into their theoretical chests.

A grin lit up your face. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course.”

The electricity dissipated, and you sighed, slinging the staff over your back by the hand woven strap you picked up on one of your many adventures with him. “It’ll be just like old times, eh Mando?”

A laugh crackled through his vocoder. “Just like old times.”

[animequeen122]

A New Dream Chapter 2

                                               Chapter 2

             I psyched myself up got dressed and headed towards the kitchen. Thankfully I knew where it was not only from watching the show but from the noises coming from one location. I couldn’t help but smiles. Despite being transported to the One Piece world and having my whole image changed, I was happy. I love this world and the people in it. So I entered the kitchen with a very big smile on my face.

             “Sam darling here take a seat.” Sanji says trying his best to be a sauve gentleman.

             “Thank you.” I reply getting comfortable. I look around the room to the faces of the crew. It was so unreal to see them all in the flesh. Brook does get up and walk over to me.

             “No Brook. You cannot see them.” I say before he gets to me.

             “But I didn’t say anything.” He replied looking heartbroken.

             “Remember when I said I know everything? I know what you say to girls and more often to Nami. So no.” I remind him. Brook than sits in the corner with a cloud of sadness around him. The rest of the crew began to laugh. It was so infectious that I joined in. It felt so good to just laugh after everything. They begin to stop laughing as Sanji starts handing food to Nami, Robin, and myself.

             “Tell us more about yourself.” Robin says picking up her wine. I take a bit of the food and can’t help but sigh in happiness. The food always looked so good on tv but it tastes even better in real life?

             “My name is Sam and I am 27? My birthday in my world is March 30th but I don’t know what day it is. I am one of four kids, all girls.” I say taking another bite of food and taking a sip of wine.

             “Must have been tough on your old man.” Franky said before chugging some cola.

             “If it was he never said anything about it. Dad loves us and is happy he had daughters.” I say trying to not sound mean.

             “Why do you like Zoro so much?” Luffy says with a mouthful of food. The whole room goes silent again. I feel my face getting red again. Goddamn it Luffy! Why did you have to ask that question.

             “Don’t ask the lady a stupid question.” Sanji said kicking Luffy on top of his head. I put my hands in my lap and just looked at them. I was never good with facing my feelings or the people I have feelings for. I am awkward and just stop talking. Besides Zoro, based on what I have seen, is probably not interested in a relationship. There are so many things he wants to do. One of which is to make Luffy the king of the pirates. But I couldn’t help having a little bit of hope. I was in a different body in this strange world, maybe there was a chance.

             “You don’t have to answer that right now, Sam.” Nami says also punching Luffy on the head. I couldn’t help but think I was going to have to answer her later.

             “I like all of you. For different reason. Jimbei is my second favorite because of what you have done for Luffy.” I cheerfully say smiling at him.

             “Thank you for your kind words but I only did what I thought was right.” Jimbei states proudly bowing his head a bit.

             “Still that whole battle showed me good characteristic of people as well as bad. It still makes me sad thinking about what was lost.” I reply with sadness filling my voice. I felt tears begin to form as I remembered Ace and Whitebeard dying because of Blackbeard. Thinking of Blackbeard I began to get angry. No pissed is the better word. If only Whitebeard turned him away everyone would be alive. But at the same time I have this feeling that things would have been different and not in a good way. I sigh. This world is harsh.

             “Are you okay Sam?” Chopper asked looking concern.

             “Yeah it just has been so much. I feel happy and sad.” I truthfully say picking back up my fork to start eating again.

             “I have a favor to ask.” I ask having finished my meal.

             “What do you need?” Luffy ask sounding kind of serious. I had everyone’s attention so I might as well ask. What is the worst that can happen? Though I hated asking anything of anyone. I felt that I was being selfish whenever I would ask, but that wasn’t true. By me not asking I would get stepped on. I was not going to let myself be like the old me. No one was going to take this away from me.

             “Since my body has changed I wanted to see if anything else changed. Normally I am not very strong plus I was kind of hoping that I ate a Devil Fruit.” I laugh. It sounded so stupid but what if. I always thought if I could live in this world I would have eaten a Devil Fruit.

             “I don’t see why not. Hey Zoro bring down some weights.” Luffy says getting up. I quickly follow the group to the deck of the Sunny. Zoro had grabbed some of his smaller weights which were still bigger than anything I had ever lifted. In my old world I was only able to life up a 15 lbs weight. I was kind of already regretting this decision. No I was not going to back down. Not now and never again.

             I walk over to the smallest weight, again not that small. Everyone was looking at me seeing what I would do. I took in a deep breath and reached for the weight. Grasping the metal bar in my hand I start lifting. To my surprise it did not feel heavy. I managed with ease to lift the weight over my head. I set the weight back down and took a step back.

             “Well.” I say looking very much shocked. I just lifted a weight that I never could have from my old world. I look at my hands thinking what the fuck am I now. It seems that with this new body there were more possibilities to me now.

             “I am guessing from your expression that that was not normal.” Robin calmly states while everyone else is looking different modes of shock.

             “Absolutely not. I could barely life weights and suddenly I can lift Zoro’s? Something happened and I don’t know what that was.” I reply trying to think of what could have one transported me to this world and two gave me this body. I wonder what else it could have given me.

           “There does seem to a mysterious force at work.” Robin commented.

             “You guys are surprised by that? Why this one time…” Usopp started to say but I cut him off.

             “Not now Usopp.” Usopp looked like I had just kicked his puppy. I was not in the mood for one of his lies or stories. I have been taken from my home and given an entirely new body. I was freaking out. Plus Zoro is real! My heart cannot handle that fact.

             “Sam you’re getting red again.” Chopper pointed at my face.

             “It’s nothing Chopper. I am fine.” I told him trying to think of anything to get rid of my blush. Nami looked at the sky and got a very concerned look on her face.

             “Guys there is bad storm coming our way. We will have to see if you have a Devil fruit power later Sam.” Nami told me. I nodded and started to head inside when something knocked into the Sunny. Everyone stopped and went over to the rail to see what it was. I stood next to Zoro not because I wanted to but because that was how we were walking to the cabin. Once again the boat rocked really hard. I was leaning too far over and fell. I hit the water and it was like all my energy was taken away. ‘It looks like I have devil fruit powers’ I thought as I slowly sank to the bottom of the ocean. The short air I had swallowed was gone and soon darkness began to block my vision. Just before I blacked out I saw a figure swimming towards me. Before they reached me I blacked out.

Editor’s note: This is the second chapter. The first chapter is better but I still like this one too. This may be a slow update as I write when I am inspired. So I hope you are patient with me. But I promise to do the best I can! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) kir'manir STAR WARS

He had gotten them out.

They were free.

Pirates had attacked the spice rig, and Jango had taken his chance when he saw it, gathering Ob’ika to his side the moment the ship had started to shake. He had taken the pick he had been using to crack stone open and turned it on the nearest slaver. Jango had made sure to keep his tiny adiik behind him as he brought the improvised weapon down on the overseer’s head over and over and over again until it was nothing more than a mess of fractured bone and gore. Obi-Wan was just a child - freshly thirteen by the boy’s own estimate, but still an adiik until he either triumphed in his verd’goten and earned his beskar’gam, or turned eighteen by Human Core-standards - and he didn’t didn’t need to see the damages Jango’s rage had wrought. He had kept his ad’ika behind his back as they’d made their way through the transport, picking off slavers and pirates alike as they hurried down the halls, weapons in hand. He’d found the keys for the cuffs on the fourth guard he’d killed, and he’d watched with pride as Ob’ika had grimly helped him pat down any bodies they came across, coming up with credits and weapons and the small pouches of spice they’d need to use to wean themselves off the drugs in their systems.

They’d come across a dead Jawa pirate that had been killed by a shot through the head, and he’d stripped the being of it’s belongings, long robes included, to offer to the adiik as protection. It would offer him more warmth than the shredded, bloodstained tunic he had already been wearing, and would fit him better than anything they’d get off of the taller beings. His adiik was only a little taller than a full-grown Jawa after all, and the sizes of the weapons would fit better in his hands. It would do, at least until Jango could get him a kute that would fit him.

They had gotten off the transport, had stolen the Master’s own ship out from under him while the overseers were attempting to fight the pirates off. They were finally free.

The shuttle had been fully stocked, thankfully, and Jango had made sure to clean and dress all of Ob’ika’s wounds before he had carried the sleeping child to the large bed in the main quarters, clean for the first time since before Jango had claimed him, and looking so small and delicate as he slept. He had stitched every lash on his tiny back closed, generously applied bacta to the wounds and hoping they wouldn’t scar, and then he had sat back and watched over his ad’ika as he slept peacefully.

He had wondered, watching as the little boy breathed, if Obi-Wan had a family to return to, beyond the brother that had sold him. Obi-Wan hadn’t brought it up, not over the months they had spent together as Jango taught him Mando’a and told him stories of happier times. He had seemed hesitant to mention anything from his past, like he couldn’t bear to think about it, and Jango couldn’t help but wonder if, with their freedom won, Obi-Wan would want to go home.

Jango didn’t want to give the adiik back, he didn’t want to be alone again. But if Obi-Wan asked it of him, he’d fly their stolen ship into the heart of the Core and deliver him safely into the arms of his family. Jango already loved the child as if he were his own ad’ika, it didn’t matter if he wasn’t old enough to be the boy’s buir or that their respective ages put them closer to being vod’e, but if Ob’ika didn’t want to stay with him, he’d let him go. He’d find the adiik’s family, or find him a new home if Obi-Wan didn’t want him, because that’s what Jas’buir would have done for him.

Jango hadn’t slept that night cycle, and he couldn’t bring up those thoughts afterwards. He had gone about cleaning himself up instead. He had shaved for the first time since that last morning on Galidraan, in camp and with Myles cheerfully draped over his shoulders, ever the disgustingly happy morning person. It had been the last time he had touched his venriduur’s skin, the last time he had kissed his lips and seen his face, because they had gone on patrol afterwards and returned to find the Jetiise murdering their aliit. Jango had forced himself away from those thoughts. He had let Obi-Wan trim his hair for him when the ad’ika had wanted to feel useful, and Jango had ended up with a choppy look straight out of his childhood - he’d even let his ad’ika pull it back in a nerftail with a gold ribbon they had found lying around.

It was a fitting colour, though he doubted Obi-Wan knew - their lessons hadn't covered what colours meant to a Mando’ad yet.

Now, once again clad in beskar’gam, and feeling like himself again for the first time since he had been stripped of his honour and purpose, Jango marches towards the clearing that had once been used as a Haat’ade camp, a quiet Obi-Wan clinging to his back and a burning mansion left behind them. He feels whole now, having been reunited with his armour, and maybe he should have thanked the aruetyc shabuir Governor for stripping his beskar’gam of it’s paint before he had shot him between the eyes. It would save him the trouble of having to find the specialized solvent himself.

But he hadn’t, of course, because the shabuir would have needed to comb through the Haat’ade belongings for the kind of solvent that was needed to strip beskar'gam of the specially made Mando paints.

“You killed him.” Obi-Wan says quietly, resting a freckled cheek against Jango’s pauldron, and his voice sounds wet. He’s not accusing, or scared, but instead he sounds confused.

“I did.” He acknowledges, because it was what Jas’buir would have done. Jaster had always been honest with him, and it was the least Jango could do to be the same with Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan sighs, warm breath fanning across the sliver of skin that was showing between the neck of his kute and his buy’ce. “He wasn’t armed.” The kid murmurs, “He wasn’t a threat.”

“Not yet.” Jango replies roughly, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He hadn’t thought the Governor was a threat either, and his people had suffered for it. “But men like that don’t need to be armed to be dangerous.” He tells the adiik, “They have connections, and power they abuse.” Jango sighs angrily, pushing away the images of all the verde who died because Jango chose the wrong contract.

“But does that mean he deserved to die?” Ob’ika asks, and - Ka’ra, Jango doesn’t think he had ever been that innocent.

His innocence had died with his Buire and Arla, and he had learned quickly what lengths he was willing to go to for vengeance and aliit. It was a shock that Obi-Wan’s hadn’t been beaten out of him, but his ad’ika had already proved that his innocence wasn’t a weakness - he had killed to get them off that rig too. He had shot one of the overseers through the eye to protect Jango.

“He would have never paid for his crimes otherwise, kid.” Jango states bluntly. “There’s no justice in the galaxy, not unless we make it.”

“That’s not right!” Obi-Wan says shrilly, jerking in his arms. “That’s not justice - that’s vengeance! The Jedi-”

Anger flares in Jango’s gut, burning and all-consuming. “The Jedi killed my people!” He snaps, and Obi-Wan flinches. Vibrating with the amount of fury in his bones, Jango lets the kid slide off of him, and he turns to face him. His body is tightly wound with restraint, and clenched fists shaking at his side. “They saw Mando’ade and decided that we deserved to die for some perceived crime. They slaughtered them, and when I was the last one left they gave me to the Governor and had me sold into slavery!”

Obi-Wan curls away from him, eyes wide and teary, and he whimpers. The sound makes Jango flinch. He steps back, tries to reign his rage in, and the weight of it sends him crashing to his knees.

Jango chokes on a breath, pulls off his buy’ce, and lets out a harsh sob as he curls around it, hugging the beskar like he had once hugged Jaster, looking for comfort it couldn’t give him. “Is that right?” He gasps, tears and salty as they pour down his cheeks in over a year’s worth of grief and anguish.

Small, wrapped hands reach forward hesitantly, before they press against Jango’s cheeks and pull his attention away from the dirt his people died on. Obi-Wan is crying too, silent tears dripping down freckled cheeks, and he looks horrified. “The - the Jedi killed them?” He asks, and Jango nods.

“‘Lek.”

The kid lets out a shuddering breath that turns into a hiccup, and Jango reaches forwards, carefully telegraphing his movements to give the adiik plenty of time to move away if he wants to. Obi-Wan doesn’t, and Jango curls his hand around the back of his verd’ika’s neck, pressing his thumb to his pulse to ground himself. “I’m sorry, Jango.” Obi-Wan whispers, blinking quickly, tears caught on his lashes, and Jango makes a nonsensical noise of denial, but the frantic shake of the adiik’s head quiets the Mando. “I-I’m not a Jedi - I wasn’t good enough to be one.”

Jango jolts, as if struck, and he stares at the little redhead in shock. “You’re-” He can’t bring himself to say it. He’s angry, for a moment, that Obi-Wan had kept such a thing from him, but he knows how much Force Sensitive children go on the slave market - it had probably been safer that Obi-Wan hadn’t said anything.

“Not anymore.” Obi-Wan sniffles, “They sent me away.”

“They sent you away.” Jango echoes, a different kind of anger blooming in his stomach. They had sent him away, they hadn’t protected him, and Obi-Wan had been sold into a life no one deserved.

“Anyone can choose to leave the Order,” Obi-Wan explains quietly, “We’re taught that as we grow. The life of a Jedi isn’t for everyone - we’re supposed to dedicate ourselves to bringing peace and balance to the galaxy, and it’s not the life everyone wants for themselves. There’s no shame in leaving, everyone gets a choice.” Ob’ika shivers slightly. “I didn’t.” He admits, and Jango draws him closer, into his lap. His own problems seem unimportant now, in the face of the adiik opening up and trusting him. “They said I was too angry to be a good Jedi - that I liked fighting too much. They tell us that if a Jedi needs to fight, then they’ve already lost, because we should always find the peaceful solution. I was just going to Fall, so it wasn’t worth training me.” Obi-Wan hiccups. “They didn’t give me a choice - they just sent me away.” And with those words, his ad’ika crumbles into tears, sobbing with lost opportunities and the choices that were stolen from him, and all Jango can do is hold him closer.

“Do you have anywhere you can go, ad’ika?” Jango asks quietly as the tears slow, and the thin arms around his chest tighten. “Any family you could go to?”

Obi-Wan sniffles again, “Kenobi means child of no-one in Joni.” He says, and it enrages Jango to hear such a statement said so flippantly. “And Obi-Wan means cursed child - I think the answer is obvious.”

“Shabuire dar’buire.” Jango says passionately, and Ob’ika snorts wetly, pressing his runny nose against Jango’s neck. The Mando’ad takes a slow, determined breath. “You could stay with me, if you’d like. I don’t have much, not anymore, but I’d look after you.”

Obi-Wan stills, and he pulls away just enough to stare up at Jango with shock, something hopeful dawning in blue-grey eyes. “You-” his voice shakes, “-you want me?”

“Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’ad, Obi-Wan be Fett be Mereel.” Jango says fiercely, and Obi-Wan blinks. “I know your name as my child, Obi-Wan of Fett or Mereel.” He repeats in Basic, and his ad’ika sucks in a shuddering breath, eyes widening in awe. He slides his hand up to cradle Obi-Wan’s head, and he pulls him closer to give him a gentle kov’nyn. “If that’s what you’d like.” Jango tacks on hesitantly, and he watches as a wide, heart-breakingly sweet smile grows on the adiik’s small face.

“Gedet’ye.” He warbles, wrapping his arms around Jango’s neck, leaning into the kov’nyn, his eyes fluttering shut.

Jango does the same, breathing in another person’s runi and sharing his own for the first time in over a year. “Olarom, ad’ika.”

“Olarom, Buir.”

(In which Cole forgot to post something, like a fool)

[rebelbyrdie]

SwanQueen Ficlet:  Black and White Pt 2

More reasons for Emma to drool over Regina. Also Regina shows a different side to herself.  It isn’t really edited because I typed it out at work.  It’s just sort of an idea.

Snow was going to pout forever.  Thank God Emma didn’t live with her anymore.  She could not imagine putting up with her full time right now.  She had said words that Emma had never imagined coming out of sweet Mary Margaret’s mouth.  She had covered the kidlet’s ears.  The White Court had lost the big tournament.

It had been close.  Mulan had trashed everyone in the sword fighting event.  She’d won easily.  The archery stuff had gone differently, though.  Merida Hill, the fire department’s chief, had easily beaten Snow and everyone else.  So it had gone, neck and neck all day so jousting had become the big tie breaker.  David and some other the other White Court men were all excited to compete.  Even Henry had scampered off remarking that his Mom had promised to let him play at being a squire.

Emma had never seen jousting, except for watching A Knights Tale on cable.  It looked painful.  Snow had excitedly explained the whole thing to her.  Leather and cushioned armor, padded lances, horses going slower than usual.  It still looked hella dangerous.  Emma was never going to let Henry do it.  Even full-contact football was safer then this knight shit.

They had watched, Emma wincing, and Snow politely clapping, every time two knights crashed into each other.

David was doing good.  He was knocking everyone down.  Which, Emma had gathered, was winning.

Of course the other side was doing just as well.  There was a rider in all black that was knocking just as many people over.

“I can’t believe Regina would let a teenager do that.”  Ashley remarked.  “I mean look how small they are.  No way they’re a full knight.”

“Could be a woman.  Regina had several female soldiers.  Jill maybe.”  Sean, who had been knocked out of the jousting tournament earlier, replied.”

The final match was between David and the small dark rider.  When David hit the dirt, Snow had let out a shout so loud it hurt Emma’s ears.  She hadn’t stopped bitching and whining to make sure David was okay.

They had all lined up down on the field for the “closing” ceremony.  Archie was waiting with a big trophy.

The announcers, two of the supervisors from the cannery, came over the loud speaker.

“And here to accept the victory for the Black Court is His Royal Highness, Prince Henry.”

Henry, escorted by Zelena and Maleficent, came out to the middle of the field.  He had changed clothes  Well he had changed his whole image to match the Black Court’s over-the-top gothic image.  He was wearing a black suit was a fur-lined black cape and a gold mini-crown (circlet?  man-tiara?) with black gems in it. He looked older than his years and handsome,  Like a real prince.  

“Sorry Grandma, Grandpa.  I sort of had double-duty today.”

“Wait.”  Snow all but stamped her foot on the muddy grass.  “Where’s Regina?”  

Henry blinked, confused.  “Right here, duh.”

The black knight, complete with a green and gold cloak thrown over their armor, stepped forward and took off their metal helmet and mask.

Emma almost had a heart attack.

Regina stood there, in armor.  Her hair was sweat-soaked and plastered to her head. There was a scrape on her cheek and the vein on her forehead was prominant which told Emma that she had a headache.  Despite, or maybe because, all of that Regina was beautiful.  Like an Amazon Queen who had lead her people to victory and was about to take her spoils.

 “I thought it would be more appropriate to let Henry accept the award.” Regina cocked a brow.  “I am not photo or speech ready.”

Emma just stared, open mouthed.  Regina.  Regina who wore dresses and always had a perfect manicure.  Regina who was the feme-est of femes.  Regina, who snarled her nose up at everything not-fancy.  She had just whipped countless dude’s asses with a pony and a big stick?  Emma couldn’t comprehend it.

“You-”  David cocked his head to the side.  “You didn’t compete under your coat of arms though?”  He sounded a little confused and a lot embarrassed. “Its not green.”

Regina shrugged a leather clad shoulder.  “My father’s coat of arms.”

Archie held up a microphone.  “I am pleased to announce the First Annual Black and White Tournament has been won by the Black Court.”

He handed the microphone to Henry.  Henry grinned.  

“Thank You.  I want to give a round of applause to all of the competitors today.  Black and White, we all represent Storybrooke.”  He paused for a thunderous roar of applause.

“The proceeds from today and a matching donation will be given to the Black Court’s chosen project, the Storybrooke Youth Center.  Thank you everybody for coming out and we hope to see you tonight at the ball.”

So here they were, at a way-over decorated ball room in City Hall.  Emma had no idea what kind of magic Zelena, Maleficent and Regina had used but it had  worked.  She felt like she had walked into a scene from a movie.  

THe whole town was going to ring in the new year with style. Not Emma’s style, though.  She was way not her style.  She was in a long white pageant gown with ruffles and tulle and more fluff then a dress should legally be able to have.  She felt awkward and out of place.  

Hook, dressed all in white (which she was sure Snow paid for) sidled up to her about nine o’clock.  He already smelled like rum.  

“You look beautiful, Luv.”

She wanted to puke.  She should have scooped up Henry to be her escort before Regina had lured him to the dark side.

Speaking of Henry, her Kid was surrounded by teenage girls.  His Price act and new edgy Black Court look was a hit.  

She kind of wanted to ground him for treason or something.

“Care for a dance, Luv?”

He had his one hand in his pocket, like he was holding on to something.

Emma definitely did not want to dance, or anything else, with him.

“I’m sorry, Captain.  As the victor, Emma is obligated to give the first dance to me.”

Emma turned around and felt her heart stutter and her brain flat-lined. Regina stood behind them.  Gone was the sweaty knight of earlier.  She was dressed to kill in an outfit that had to be from her Evil Queen days.  She had a black corset top and leather pants that was covered, barely, by a long black jacket that was cropped in the front and flowed to the ground in the back.  Her cleavage was partially covered (more like accentuated) by a big and fancy necklace that matched the crown on her head.  The gold made her skin glow and the rubies were the same color as her lips.Her hair was long and curled into a complicated up do with even more jewels in it. She had to be wearing boots with a killer heel because she was almost the same height as Hook.

When Emma finally regained her senses, she let out a hoarse.  “Yeah.”  She pulled in a deep breath and hoped the oxygen helped her brain reboot.  “Can’t say no to My Queen.”

Regina lead her to the dance floor with a chuckle.  

Hook stood in place, eyes wide and furious.  He knew better to fight Regina, though  Not only did she have magic, half of her posse did too and exactly none of them liked Hook.  Basically, Emma had thrown her lot in with the wrong team.  

“Thanks.”  She mumbled to Regina when they were far enough away.  “It was either this or deck him.”

They started to twirl around in what Emma was almost sure was a waltz.  Regina lead her confidently along and she followed as best she could.

“You do realize he has a ring box in his pocket.  I believe the pirate was going to ask you to be his wedded wench.”

Emma bit back a groan.  She had been afraid of that.  “Frankly I’d rather go ten round against you with the ponies and the sticks.  No padding.”

Regina laughed.  A full on threw her head back laugh.  It was better than the music, the best sound Emma could remember hearing in a long time.  Regina so rarely laughed.  

“Speaking of.”  Emma continued as she fumbled through the dance.  “How did you learn to do that?  It doesn’t seem very queeny.”

Regina smiled.  “My father.  He went behind Mother’s back and taught me when I was a teenager. I had to do more than a few practice runs to re-teach myself a few things.  It was not at all like riding a bike”

Emma literally could not imagine.

“So-”  They turned and Emma could see Snow and Hook having a heated conversation on the other side of the room.  Neither of them looked happy.  She dropped her head to Regina’s shoulder for a moment.  

“I think I’m defecting to the Black Squad next year.  You and the Kid got cooler better clothes and nobody on your team is trying to set me up with an asshole.  Between Hook and my mother I am never going to make it to midnight.”

She was totally done and over this whole Black and White bullshit.

Regina was so close, the dancing had slowed down and they were basically just swaying together now. Emma soaked in the moment, the intimacy of it all. 

Regina’s skin was hot against her own.  She smelled like apples, rain and honey. Her touch was electric and sent delicious.   Regina was intoxicating.  Like lines of cocaine on black velvet, intoxicating, addictive, an incredible high that could so easily turn into decadent and delirious destruction. If Emma let herself slip, if she took even the tiniest taste, if she gave in to temptation, she would be lost.  She knew that she would never be able to stop.  Would never want to.

Regina’s hands crawled up her back.  Emma could feel her touch burning through the material of her dress.

“Em-ma.” Regina’s voice was like whiskey and starlight and it was whispered right into Emma’s ear.

She had seen so many sides and shades of Regina, so many moments had passed between them.  This moment, with Regina’s arms wrapped around her, was her favorite.

“I would be honored to have you on my Court.  Beside me, beside our son,  Where you belong.”

Belong.  Emma hadn’t felt like she belonged anywhere, ever.  The very idea was ridiculous.  Yet.  Yet, she craved it.  She never felt more like herself than she did when she was with Regina and Henry.  They felt like home, like the living embodiment of Tallahassee.

“I-”

Emma lifted her head.  She searched Regina’s eyes.  She looked for sarcasm or spite but only saw love.  Overwhelming amounts of love.  She got lost in Regina’s beautiful eyes and the endless capacity of her heart.

“Regina.”  Emma licked her suddenly dry lips.  She had so much to say.  To confess.  She had never been good with words.She wasn’t even sure there were words for the emotions swirling inside of her.  “My Queen.”

Regina’s eyes lit up at that.  Like it was the sweetest thing she had ever heard.  Based on Regina’s checkered past, it probably was.

Emma couldn’t wait anymore.  She didn’t care where they were or who saw.  She was tired of black and white, good and evil, fighting and drawing lines.  They were in a fairytale town, at a fairytale ball and they were fairytale royalty. It was time for their Happily Ever After.

Emma leaned in and did the one thing she had been dying to do since the first time she’d seen Regina.  She kissed her. 

The floor tilted under Emma’s feet.  Angels sang in her ears. Kissing Regina was better than drugs.  Emma ran her hands through Regina’s hair and let it curl around her fingers.  Regina held her close, her nails dug into Emma’s shoulder blades.  It was perfect.

Claps and gasps invaded their little bubble of bliss.

Emma opened her eyes (when had she closed them?) and looked around.  The room was bathed in golden light.  THere were stars dancing across the ceiling and black and white pops of light, like fireworks.

There was no denying it now.  The entire town had witnessed them share their first and apparently true loves kiss.

Regina rested her forehead against hers.  

“You want to get out of here?”

As opposed to facing down the entire town and her crazy mother?  Absolutely.

“Your place or mine?”

Regina’s smirk was the only answer Emma got as they disappeared in a swirl of smoke.

[viktcrr]

「maxence danet-fauvel & nonbinary」⇾ samuels, viktor, the senior radcliffe student’s records show that he/they are a capricorn and 24 years old. he/they are studying visual arts, living in noland and can be observant, ingenious, reticent & dependent. when i see him/them i am reminded of a sculptor’s hands clay-ridden, the insistent hum of tv static, and a crying preacher inside a dusty funeral home.  ⇽「james & 21 & est & they/them.」

hllo !!! i’m james n here’s one of my big idiot muses <3 he’s not actually dumb he’s :/ a bit evil. bt thts okay hes still <3 beloved <3 LKDSFHLSADLKGFSHLKD anyways!

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

aesthetic.

old tvs and their static, worn tapes, horror movie screams, spilled ink, a sculptor’s hands, clay-stained, chicken scratch handwriting, messy notes, messy hair, scoffs and eye-rolls, bruised knuckles, sore throats, funeral homes and a crying preacher, shattered ceramics, knife fights, high ledges, vertically-striped pants, red lights, the moon shrouded in clouds, cigarette butts, graveyards and half-empty wine bottles, sitting there for hours and talking to nothing, about nothing, a god complex, gold rings adorning both hands, barbwire baseball bats, having never played baseball in your life, deep eyebags and broken mirrors, a permanent chip on one’s shoulder, yearning, longing, wishing.

basic info.

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′1″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: pansexual uwu

pinterest

stats

inspired by: beetlejuice (beetlejuice), sid (toy story), jack sparrow (pirates of the caribbean), francis wilkerson (malcolm in the middle), azula (avatar: the last airbender), vicky (the fairly oddparents), stu macher / billy loomis (scream), marshall lee (adventure time), bojack horseman (bojack horseman), any it’s always sunny character :/

biography.

born to mama and papa (preacher) samuels in rochester, new york - fifteen minutes after his twin sister, tatiana samuels. years later, rosa samuels joined the gang.

was an awkward, quiet kid growing up, he didn’t interact well with others and preferred being left alone to dig up worms and draw on the walls of their childhood home. the only exception was his twin, really.

as he got older he grew out of this, but instead became like … sort of an asshole? maybe to compensate for years of childhood awkwardness. he’s the sort of person who will bite the hand that feeds him & developed into a full time nuisance by middle school, unlike tatiana who was much more subtle about her conniving manners.

always has been a fan of ‘darker’ materials. grim & creepy morbid shit. probably the biggest tim burton fan, ever since he was a kid … not a good look for a preacher’s son, but he never really felt ‘in’ with the rest of his family to begin with. classic black sheep syndrome.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid that probably prompted one or two or five phone calls home to assure everything was fine.

just really had a knack for art at a young age, from drawing to painting to playing with clay. it’s always been his Thing and probably is the only thing he’s good at.

being twins with tatiana was hard. they were near opposite besides both being quite mean-spirited. tatiana handled being in public better, left a better image behind - but viktor had talent, more than she did. they loved each other deeply - y’know, those unbreakable twin bonds as cliche as it sounds - but found each other as competition for their parents’ attention. a rivalry for affection.

in high school is when viktor really started to act out. it started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service & almost had an exorcism performed on him.

his only redeemable trait was like … just his sheer talent in the arts. was in a 3D art AP course and specialized in sculptures. he could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because he was the problem child, the one who deserved to be disciplined for all his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with whatever she wanted much easier. on the bright-side, for her, i guess.

not a very motivated person - wasn’t planning on going to college, much less going to radcliffe but his parents literally wrote & sent his college application for him because they weren’t going to house a deadbeat but had too much heart to kick him out onto the streets. cool!

he’s actually pretty smart but he just doesn’t apply himself. has a minor in english because he didn’t care for an extra course-load, but he’s good at writing & analyzing literature. is going to use it to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s. not for the kids, but because he likes to leave a trail of terror in whatever he does.

has been experimenting with himself since high school but college is where he really had started to crack down on himself. was out as pansexual & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college just … not to his parents, who don’t really need to know.

if you asked him if he believed in twins having a psychic connection with each other - he’d tell you he wouldn’t know. it felt believable at times, but sometimes he had no idea what was going on inside of tatiana’as head. on the other hand - viktor had always felt oddly transparent to her, like she knew all of his moves before he did. the only person who could predict him accurately.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

when tatiana disappeared, viktor knew something was up. it was a twist in his gut, pure instinct that something wasn’t right. and it wasn’t right - and when she was proclaimed missing, they couldn’t find her.

and when tatiana died - viktor knew. it felt wrong, something cut so severely in him he could pinpoint her death to the second. he didn’t know how, or why, but he knew it. knew it before anybody else had.

afterwards he went on a sort of bender. he’d begun to struggle with a mild drug addiction late senior year of high school / early college, but he was managing it up until this point.

his mental health had also sunk to an all-time low, when it’d never been great to begin with. (manic & depressive episodes. once fixated on a sculpting project for six months and then knocked it off the table and destroyed it as soon as he finished it for no apparent reason.)

tatiana’s body wasn’t found immediately, and when it was … viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing & being hospitalized. spent six months in & out of psychiatric care after that.

came back to radcliffe to finish his senior year because … for the reasons above, he hadn’t been able to complete it. just wants to get his credits and get out of here.

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief, especially since the one year anniversary of tatiana’s death was this month (january) - causes him to spiral and be unpredictable in regards of his mental health. he stopped taking his medication, so. :/ some days are alright, other days are pretty bad.

UPDATE: now that summer’s come n go ... viktor hs been thru <3 a lot <3 recently. switched therapists (his :/ last one got her license revoked) & started new medications, went to a treatment center briefly ‘cos .. he wasn’t doing too well :/ bt now he’s back baybey! trying to be better n trying to be sober but ... :/

personality.

the human embodiment of a gremlin that was fed after midnight. a goblin, if you will. one of those cats with a narrow head and really big ears … that’s them!

a big horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies & probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than they should because they just … love those black & white vertical-striped pants.

can appreciate the lore & cryptids at radcliffe and likes to feed into the fear that surrounds them. is probably the cause of a few ‘anomalies’ and ‘paranormal sightings’ because they’re just … a jerk.

fashion alternates between e-boy (they would be tiktok famous if they were 17 & didn’t think that a majorly minor based app was weird.), millennial beetlejuice, and goth in a crop top & sweatpants. big fan of crop tops and a big fan of sweatpants.

they can be really fucking mean? petty, aggressive, a major instigator. will literally spit in your face for little to no reason, you could just look at them the wrong way. the kind of person who will stick their gum into someone else’s hair. other than that? they’re like … sort of okay. they’re not always mean, just a dick about 90% of the time lmao

like okay yeah they’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except they feel like it and believes it. it’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact that they’re probably getting into a fight whenever, considers themself to be a lover and not a fighter but that’a primarily because they fuck a lot. uses it as a coping mechanism, like they’re this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ and it’s … a Lot. might have a problem with hypsersexuality but they’re not fully aware of it.

the preacher’s whore son, basically :)

pansexual & nonbinary, switches between he & they pronouns often and without a pattern, but they have such a fragile grip on their identity that you could call them ‘dog-faced bitch’ and they’d turn around like. sup.

vastly impulsive … like i said, they destroy their own creations for the fun of it. spends all teir money on useless shit, will cheat on someone because they feel like it & likes the thrill, screams into the night sky frequently like a cat in heat.

will also spend months creating useless shit for no reason too. spent six of them sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of them & then took a sledgehammer to it.

they’re very super dramatic. would play the organ at church when nobody was looking after them and service was about to start. would just churn out these super haunting, creepy melodies like they were phantom of the opera. would do the same exact thing at home on their keyboard with the pipe organ setting whenever they got grounded until their parents took it away HBDSJFNGKH

will absolutely not talk about their ‘time away’ because it’s not anyone’s business, not even their own younger sister. still refuses to talk about tatiana’s death, or their mental health, or their addiction (fallen back into it but it hasn’t gotten severe … yet :/), or anything involving their own emotions.

will just change the topic abruptly, no warning. asks about the jonas brothers instead and they fucking hate the jonas brothers.

that being said they’re absolutely not over tatiana’s death & it’s to the point of obsession over it. like there’s some kind of secret that needs to be uncovered, even though there just. isn’t. tatiana was their rock and they were pretty much dependent on her. kept them grounded. could control them when nobody else could, got into their head easier than others. it’s sort of like rosa lost two siblings that day because viktor hasn’t been the same since.

emotionally unavailable while also crying twice a day. cries during their brawls but still wins. is stony-faced when they tell you they cheated on you with your much hotter best friend.

will tell you straight up what they want from you, no bullshit & no beating around the bush. just blunt. if they want to fuck, nothing else, then that’s it. if they feel deviation or developing feelings then they’ll ghost in less than a second. is awful like that but feels no shame.

but also emotional as shit and it’s confusing. will cry on a whim and then flip you off if you try to console them or ask them what’s up. will bite you.

they go to therapy but they just fuck around and wastes their therapists’ time … also is fucking their therapist, but that’s neither here nor there. so they’re not really getting the help they need.

likes to be intimidating but not … with their body or anything because they’re a TWIG but uses their love & knowledge of horror and creepy shit to their advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before (also is a big fan of sfx makeup & has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids around with a chainsaw without the chain on halloween every year.

generally never doing good, both mental health wise & morally. would probably steal candy from a baby for funsies.

i don’t know if there’s a good to them somewhere deep down, but they don’t see any issues with themself either. nothing really breaks through to them anymore because the only person who ever made them stop and think about their actions was tatiana, and well, y’know. :/

an introverted reclusive type who doesn’t like most people or going out, but does so anyway if it means a quick high & a cheap thrill.

pretty observant and likes to analyze people even though they’re often like … partially wrong. judgmental because they like to make people feel bad, not because they’re a righteous mighty person. because they’re not. so like, a hypocrite!

wanted connections.

a roommate… but it’s an absolute nightmare to live with him.

enemies… because viktor would have a lot of them…

familiar faces… people who knew tatiana or of her / were her friends. maybe even those who dated her, and who viktor would’ve tried to intimidate / scare at any given chance :/

pitiful glances… people who take pity on viktor and he hates it sooo much.

hooligan gremlin kids… just a friend group of grown ass adults who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers.

high school girlfriend… probably the one he lost his virginity to inside his family church :/

childhood acquaintances… people who knew him from his youth.

exes… good & bad terms, but mostly bad terms because viktor is an actual demon. probably cheated on them.

soft… i don’t know if he’s soft towards anyone and/or is capable of it but we can try. we can try.

unrequited… either viktor just doesn’t like them or he’s holding back because he’s :/ got issues with relationships & is self-sabotaging as one does

enemies with Tension… of the … spicy kind if you know what i mean. wink.

friends… old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. i don’t know how many he had but if your muse likes to cause a ruckus and fuck shit up then viktor’s your man.

hook-ups… current or old. friends with benefits, one night stands, anything and everything because he fucks around a lot.

ride or die… friendship but make it extreme.

bad influence… he’s just toxic to be around and brings out the worst in people :/

bad egg… he’s gotten into a few fights :/ maybe you witnessed it. maybe you were in it.

literally anything i wld love all sorts of plots.

[artificialqueens]

If You Ever Wanna Be In Love (I'll Come Around), Chapter Two (Branjie) - Athena2

Summary: After a mix-up at work leads to Vanessa pretending she has a wife, she uses this fake wife to get out of work events. But when she runs out of excuses and needs a wife for a party, Vanessa finds herself turning to Nina’s friend Brooke, who just so happens to need a fake girlfriend.

Previously: Brooke and Vanessa agreed to a fake dating arrangement Now: Brooke pretends to be Vanessa’s wife at a work dinner.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback for chapter 1! It really does mean so much to me that you enjoyed it and are excited for more! I hope you like this chapter and leave feedback if you’d like! Thank you so much to Writ for betaing, you’re the absolute best <3 <3 <3.

Brooke dumps half her closet on the bed. She hasn’t done this in a while, hasn’t stalked around her room in a robe and makeup, trying to pick an outfit. Sure, she goes to work everyday with fierce eyeliner and sharp suits and silk shirts, but this is different. She’d been extra steady with her eyeliner, blending her contour until it was perfect, but she’s not sure why. Maybe she just wants to take advantage of the night and an opportunity to look nice. Maybe she wants to impress Vanessa–who’s definitely prettier than she remembered–and show her that she’s going to be the best fake wife she can be, good enough to turn heads and have them be the perfect couple at the party.

Whatever the reason, it has her rifling through every dress and pant suit she owns, trying to decide if purple or black or red is the right color, if she should go stripes or plain, form-fitting or loose. She and Vanessa exchanged numbers after coffee, and Brooke has a text asking what to wear half-written before deleting it all. No need to bother Vanessa over this. Eventually she pulls on the plain black dress that pops against her pale skin, figuring a classic will work.

Vanessa is smiling hesitantly when Brooke gets in her car, shooting out apologies for the mess. Brooke moves aside an old magazine advertising fun kids’ activities and settles in, legs bouncing as she gets a good look at Vanessa, soft waves tumbling down her back and dazzling teeth giving the sun a run for its money.

“You look nice,” Brooke says, hoping it’s okay to say. Vanessa does look nice, and she figures compliments should be part of their fake marriage. Her dad always complimented her mom whenever they went out, leaving Brooke and her sister with their grandma whose cloud of old-lady perfume almost dissolved their lungs.

“Thanks. So do you.”

“Thanks.” Brooke looks at her lap, panic growing as blocks pass in silence. She knows almost nothing about Vanessa, and somehow she has to convince people they’re married for the night. Can they really pull this off? This could be one of the worst situations she’s been in, aside from the time she and Nina tried to dye their hair pink after finals and spent the night scrubbing the dorm bathroom clean, pink staining their hands for days.

Vanessa peeks over at her when they hit a red light. “Hey, Brooke? Thank you for doing this. You really saved my ass.”

Brooke blushes. “You don’t have to thank me, it’s not any trouble. I would’ve just been watching Gilmore Girls with my cats for the third time.”

“Gilmore Girls?”

“It’s a really good show. Really soothing, too,” Brooke says. She doesn’t add anything else, doesn’t add whether Vanessa would like or not because she doesn’t know the kind of things Vanessa likes. Vanessa could be a horror movie fan for all she knows, but from the way she jumped out of her seat when a squirrel ran in front of the car, Brooke’s thinking that’s a no.

Vanessa nods. She cranks up the radio when Beyonce comes on, chattering about work, and as they drive further away, Brooke almost forgets her nerves.

—

Vanessa’s hands are stuck on the wheel as they pull into the restaurant parking lot. Brooke looks nice–a lot nicer than Vanessa expected. Her sleeveless dress reveals strong arms that taper into clever hands and long fingers, and Vanessa has to stop looking.

Brooke fidgets with her gold bracelet, and Vanessa knows she’ll have to take the lead to get them through this. She notices her own hands are sweaty, and she dries them on her dress, forcing herself to stay calm. Paul and everyone else already bought the fake wife story, Vanessa reminds herself. All she has to do is turn up the charm until they’re completely sold.

“We got this, right?” Vanessa meets Brooke’s eyes with a hopeful smile.

“Right. We go in, we act married, we get out,” Brooke says.

Vanessa laughs. “You’re making us sound like spies! Just relax, okay? Follow my lead and we’ll be fine, I promise.”

Brooke nods, and Vanessa hands her the second fake ring she’d gotten from the thrift shop. It shines in the dim parking lot lights, gaining its second life through Brooke.

Brooke opens her door then slams it, turning back to Vanessa. “Wait. How did we get engaged?”

“What’s it matter?”

“If I’m playing a part, I want to do it right. And what if someone asks? Our stories have to match so we don’t get caught in the lie.”

Vanessa takes a breath of awe. As absurd as this whole thing is, she clearly has the right person for it, someone careful and dedicated enough to make sure they succeed. Vanessa thinks for a second. “You proposed to me on the beach, at sunset.”

Brooke scoffs.

“What?”

“That’s so lame! That’s something a boring straight guy would do for his girlfriend he knows nothing about. If I’m gonna propose to you, it would be better than that!”

“It’s not even a real proposal!” Vanessa argues, though part of her is touched that even if it is fake, Brooke wants her to have something nice.

“Still,” Brooke insists.

“Got any ideas?”

“What would your dream proposal be?” Brooke asks. “Not some generic beach thing. Something special.”

Vanessa’s pictured her wedding before—gold sun streaking through red and orange leaves as her dress flows behind her on the walk to her wife, the fall air crisp as an apple-—but hasn’t considered all the exhausting details and planning that would get her to that point.

“Well, don’t laugh, but I had a pirate thing when I was little. My mom would put coins and toys in the sandbox and give me a map and I’d dig for them. So let’s say you did a little treasure hunt that ended in the proposal.” Vanessa never knew how much she wanted something like this, something to show her wife knows her like no one else, but as she speaks, she can see it happening. Her breathlessly flipping over a tattered map to see neat lines and bright red X. Her going through each step, faster and faster as her excitement builds, until she reaches the end and Brooke is on one knee with a box—

Vanessa shakes her head to clear out the image.

Brooke smiles. “I like that. It’s nice.” She leans in closer, like she’s sharing a secret. “I had a dinosaur thing, so I won’t laugh.”

“Seems like you still have a dinosaur thing, Miss Museum Head,” Vanessa teases.

Brooke blushes, and Vanessa’s heart leaps. “I guess I do.”

There’s a beat of silence, and they both realize this is it. Doors slam, locks click, and they give each other one last nod before entering the restaurant.

The small restaurant room Paul reserved is packed with disgruntled library employees eager for a night off, and every single head spins toward her and Brooke. A few mouths drop open, and Vanessa grins. They do look impressive, Brooke’s black dress flowing down her long frame, a perfect match for Vanessa’s red dress with tiny black stars, one of her favorite thrift store finds.

But beyond the outfits is something Vanessa can’t quite describe. She gets a look at her and Brooke in a mirror on the wall, and something about them looks right, like they could be on opposite sides of the room and you would still know they were a couple. Maybe it’s the way Vanessa leans into the space around Brooke, or the way Brooke slows her pace for Vanessa’s matchstick legs, but there’s some sort of magic bubbling around them.

Couples cling like koalas and Vanessa throws an awkward arm around Brooke’s waist to look more couple-y. Brooke stiffens slightly before relaxing into it.

Paul runs over. “So you’re Vanessa’s wife,” he says to Brooke, pumping her hand up and down with no sign of stopping.

“That’s me,” Brooke agrees. “I’m Brooke, if Vanessa hasn’t told you.”

“Actually, she hasn’t,” Paul says, giving Vanessa a look. “We’ve been wanting to meet you for months but Vanessa says you’ve been sick a lot lately. I hope you’re doing better after your stomach problems last week?”

Brooke shoots Vanessa a death glare, but she still answers warmly. “I’m much better now, thank you.”

“Glad to hear it.” Paul ushers them over to the table, and Vanessa quickly pulls her arm back.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “Just thought we needed a little touching.”

“It’s fine,” Brooke says, sighing in relief as they slide next to Nina at the table.

Vanessa quickly makes the introductions to her coworkers. Silky smiles devilishly and A’keria and Yvie narrow their eyes, serving as her test panel for the night, to see if she and Brooke can really sell things for the admins.

“Now, about those stomach problems?” Brooke demands. Her eyebrows are furrowed and Vanessa has to consciously stop looking at how adorable the expression makes her.

“Well, when I don’t want to go to parties, I use you as an excuse sometimes,” Vanessa says sheepishly.

Brooke pinches the bridge of her nose. “And how many times have you said I was sick?”

Vanessa shrugs. “I kinda…lost count?”

Brooke groans, heaving a mighty sigh. “I really hope this food is better than slightly-above-average.”

—

The food, it turns out, is actually better than Vanessa expected. She makes her way through fish in lemon butter, but Brooke’s lasagna came with garlic bread that’s calling her name. They’re supposed to be married, after all, so why the hell not? She reaches over and grabs a chunk. Brooke then asks for a bite of fish, and Vanessa knows from her friends’ approving nods and the calm behavior of the others that they’re completely selling the wife thing.

Vanessa doesn’t know what exactly makes a marriage look real, but she follows stuff her parents did—sharing food and joking with each other, letting their hands brush every now and then, each one making her whole arm tingle.

Brooke does her part wonderfully, no question about it. She maintains her calm all through dinner, answering question after question about herself and work. Even though Brooke seems to hold back when she talks about her job, like she’s afraid no one is interested, Vanessa finds herself really engrossed in what Brooke does, no acting required.

Brooke does a lot more than look at bones all day, Vanessa learns. She supervises the museum’s dinosaur collection and has been working on a special summer exhibit for months, getting permission to borrow a T-Rex skull from another museum. She’s also started more kids’ programs, special events and days just for them. As she speaks, Vanessa can see it. She can see Brooke strutting across the museum’s stone floor in a sharp black suit, opening up a crate of fossils and grinning like a little kid, staying at the museum long past closing to set it all up. It makes her smile, and the smile doesn’t leave.

Vanessa also learns that Brooke likes hiking on the weekends, and she’s grateful they’re not really married, because if she ever had to tag along on a hiking date she’d probably pass out.

When they walk back to the car amidst Paul shouting his hopes to see Brooke again, Vanessa feels sad somehow, like the thrill of tonight is fading.

“I, um, I had a nice time tonight,” Brooke says quietly, after Vanessa starts driving. “I haven’t been out in a while. I’ve been focusing on the T-Rex exhibit since January. Haven’t had time for much else.”

Vanessa nods. “Yeah, I get it. We get a lot more kids in the library for summer, I’ve been pulling crafts out of my ass to have more activities. But I love it, you know?”

“Yeah,” Brooke says, grabbing her purse as they pull up in front of her apartment. “Um, I’ll text you about the party at my mom’s, okay?”

“Okay. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Vanessa almost wishes the night didn’t have to end, that they could still buzz with that same magic that overtook them in the restaurant. She wonders if she’s getting her wish when Brooke releases the door and turns back to her.

“Your ring,” Brooke explains, and it hits Vanessa again that this is all fake, just an act. Brooke’s face falls as she tries to twist the ring off. “It’s stuck.”

“What do you mean,stuck?”

“I mean it’s stuck!”

“But it went on okay.” Vanessa shakes her head. “I bet you crack your knuckles. My mom made me stop, said I’d get big knuckles—“

“That’s a myth!” Brooke shoots back, tugging harder on the ring.

“Let me help.” Vanessa twists it with her, trying not to hurt Brooke.

“If I lose my finger, I’m mailing it to you so it can haunt you forever,” Brooke says, a hint of panic creeping into her voice.

“No one is losing a finger! Hang on, I have lotion.” Vanessa grabs the mini bottle of Aveeno in her purse and rubs it into Brooke’s hand, trying not to think of how soft—albeit sweaty—her skin is. Vanessa gives one last tug that sends her flying into the door, ring triumphantly in her fist.

Brooke massages her hand, then meets Vanessa’s gaze. Suddenly, they both erupt into laughter so fierce it brings tears to Vanessa’s eyes and makes her stomach hurt. I’m that moment, Brooke becomes more real to her, shaking and snorting with laughter, her face stretched into a grin. Brooke isn’t just someone who passes dishes at Nina’s without being asked, but someone Vanessa thinks she might want to know more, and she’s suddenly grateful for the birthday party coming up, grateful for more time with her.

“Okay, okay,” Vanessa wheezes. “Good night, for real.”

“Good night.”

Brooke gracefully walks into the building, and Vanessa finds herself staring at the empty space Brooke occupied long after she’s safely inside.

—

Brooke can’t quite believe it, but dinner with Vanessa was fun. Even with the number of questions Vanessa’s coworkers threw at her and the answers she had to keep spitting out, things began to feel less like a contest to prove their fake relationship and more like a real dinner party.

Vanessa is funnier than Brooke had remembered, telling story after story about the library’s chaos, from the time a grown man got stuck in the bathroom to the woman who almost went over the library desk when she found out there was no vending machine in the children’s room. Vanessa acts her stories out like she’s on stage, changing her voice and making exaggerated faces and swinging her arms all over the place.

She and Nina meet for their weekly breakfast the next day, and it’s nice to be around her warmth, nice to be around someone who knows the previous night was fake, freeing Brooke from pretending to be someone else. Even so, all Nina can talk about is how well Brooke and Vanessa did.

“I’m just saying, you really pulled it off,” Nina says around a mouthful of toast. “And she took some of your food! That was so cute, did you plan that?”

Brooke shakes her head, turning to the waffles she won’t have to share with anyone today. Not that she had really minded Vanessa’s slim wrist darting to her plate. “We didn’t plan it. She literally just stole my garlic bread.”

“Well, it worked. You looked so natural. I know A’keria, Silky, and Yvie were impressed, and they’re hard to win over.”

Brooke smiles a little at that. You can’t assign grades for being someone’s fake wife, but Brooke likes knowing she did a good job.

“Yeah. Vanessa’s gonna be my fake girlfriend at my mom’s in two weeks, and then I guess that’s that.”

“You’re really just doing the two things and that’s it?” Nina stares at her in surprise.

Brooke looks down, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah? I mean, that’s what we agreed to…” she trails off. After last night, she was starting to think that more time with Vanessa could be a nice thing. Vanessa is funny and kind and charming, almost like Nina in a way, and Brooke was sucked into her personality in the dim restaurant lights. But now, in the cold morning light, the effects have worn off. They’re just two people who barely know each other, pretending to be in a relationship a few times. They might keep in touch after, talk at Nina’s parties, but there’s nothing more than that.

“Well, maybe you could stay friends after and do things,” Nina says. “You seemed like you had fun.”

“Yeah.” Brooke shovels some waffles into her mouth, because Nina is right and they both know it. Luckily, Nina moves the conversation onto the library carnival they’re having, and Brooke can forget all about last night.

—

That night, Brooke’s phone buzzes while she’s curled up with the cats, watching TV. Her heart flutters a little when she sees the sender.

Vanessa Mateo: So how long do I have to wait for Lorelai and Luke to get together?

Vanessa Mateo: Is Rory gonna end up with this Dean guy?

Vanessa Mateo: I need answers!

Brooke’s fingers hover over the phone. It’s been a while since she’s texted someone besides Nina or her mom, and she’s not sure how to approach this. Just as friends, she tells herself, and begins to type.

Brooke Lynn Hytes: You’ll just have to wait and see ;)

Vanessa Mateo: Brooke Lynn Hytes did you just winky face me???

Brooke Lynn Hytes: ;) ;)