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karajaynetoday · 3 years

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i'll be honest, it's better off this way | luke hemmings

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hello pals! long time no writing! i know it seems a bit weird to post a luke break up fic just after he got engaged but to be fair, I already had this in the works before the news broke yesterday, so soz not soz. It is kind of a happy break up story though... kind of? this one features lyrics from our song by niall and anne marie that are in italics throughout the piece (you know i love a song lyric incorporation lol) and i’m a bit rusty, so any feedback is welcome! a big shoutout to my dearest @notinthesameguey for beta-reading this one for me, you’re a gem blanca! enjoy xo

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: mentions of a break up and a car accident/hospitalisation (minor/non-graphic)

(This is a fem reader insert)

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I'll be honest, I'm alright with me

Sunday mornings, in my own bedsheets

The break up with Luke had been easier than you’d first thought. It’d been months of growing apart, feeling like a stranger in your own home, before you finally worked up the nerve to utter those four words: We need to talk. He’d been spending most days and some nights in the studio, and you’d been working overtime at your job too; you were ships in the night who barely had time to say hello and goodbye, let alone have any sort of proper conversation. You’d spent an entire evening rehearsing a script in your head, and as soon as Luke walked through the door and greeted Petunia, you mustered the courage to stand up and speak your truth.

It turned out that you weren’t alone in feeling stagnant in your relationship, and although you could feel your heart breaking as you said the words, Luke’s hand on your knee was all the gentle reassurance you needed. Just like always, even when your relationship was falling apart, Luke was there for you. And that’s what he promised, that night in the living room. It didn’t make sense for you two to become strangers overnight after 3 years together, but you also both knew that you needed space to grow and heal, and that space needed to happen sooner rather than later.

You could tell that part of Luke wanted to fight it, wanted to raise his voice, wanted to convince you to stay. But part of Luke also knew that it was time to walk away, no matter how much his heart was feeling like it was being ripped out of his chest, because he did truly love you, and if he loved you, he’d let you go.

Even though Luke insisted you could stay in the spare room for as long as you liked, it only took a week or so to find a new place. An apartment in KayKay’s building opened up for rent, and thanks to her help, you secured the lease and started moving in as soon as you could. Ashton accompanied you to Ikea and then helped with assembling a new bed and dining table for you, while KayKay helped unpack some of your boxes. You could tell that they were trying to be sensitive, but at the same time were desperate to know what went down in the break up, and after a few slices of pizza and half a bottle of wine, you felt the emotions rushing to the surface.

“It feels dumb to get upset, after all, I was the one who suggested we should break up.” You sniffled, smiling sadly as Ashton handed you a tissue.

“Just because it was something that needed to happen, doesn’t mean you can’t be sad about it. You two shared a lot in the time you were together, it’s only natural that it’s going to take you a while to untangle yourselves from one another and to get your head and heart back on the path that’s right for you.” KayKay spoke softly, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You knew she was right, and the healing would come; it was all part of the rollercoaster of walking away from someone you thought was the love of your life, but had turned out not to be. Time to adjust and find some independence, and re-shape the life you found yourself in until it was the life you wanted.

But every time I think that I can get you out my head, you never, ever let me forget

Once you’d completely moved out Luke’s house, your reasons to contact him became few and far between. A few occasional texts to advise that he’d let his family know about your split, and a link to a new cafe nearby that he thought was your kind of vibe (and it absolutely was). Everyone in your friendship group was trying their best to help you both cope, but it was hard to avoid the awkwardness that came with a break up of close friends.

You felt like you were walking on eggshells for a while, so you started to say no to invitations out. You threw yourself into a new work project, and barely replied to any group chats. Whenever your friends called, you had the perfect script rehearsed, about how you were going to be up for promotion, and after the next month or so, you’d have plenty more time for catching up with everyone. You were fairly certain that no-one believed your story, but you were sticking to it nonetheless. You’d seen photos online of Luke out and about with various beautiful women amongst the partying crew, and even though you knew better than to torture yourself with doom-scrolling through the internet, you couldn’t help yourself. You had to keep reminding yourself that it was YOU that wanted the breakup, and that it was for the best. Or something like that.

It was coming to the end of your big project, and the entire office decided to head out for celebratory drinks. You only stayed for a couple, because after a month of overtime you were ready for bed. Your boss took you aside to assure you that the promotion was yours and the new contract would be on your desk on Monday, and as you reassured him you were excited to take on the role, a song playing over the bar’s speakers made you stop in your tracks. You’d spent many a Sunday morning dancing around the kitchen making pancakes with Luke and singing these words; something you’d completely forgotten until this moment. As you stepped outside to await your Uber, the first person you wanted to call with the news was Luke. Your fingers hovered over his name for a good few minutes before your Uber driver honked and broke you out of her trance, and you settled for texting the group chat instead to share your exciting update. Lots of confetti and heart eyes emojis started popping up alongside congratulatory messages, and you let out a giggle when you saw that Luke had sent a photo of Petunia with “congrats!” scrawled across it in purple font. It was the last thing you remembered, before the squealing of tyres and your vision going black.

Just when I think you're gone, Hear our song on the radio

Just like that, takes me back, To the places we used to go

The rhythmic beeping of the hospital monitors was the first thing you noticed as you stirred awake. The second was a dull pain across your skull, and the third was that your arm was in a sling. Fourth was the large, warm hand that was holding your own and gently squeezing; without opening your eyes, you knew it was Luke’s. You felt too weak to say any words, so instead you tried your best to squeeze back as you slowly opened your eyes. You heard a sharp intake of breath, before Luke’s smiling face came into view.

“Hey there, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” Luke asked, reaching up to gently brush some hair out of your eyes.

“Like I was in a car accident.” You managed to croak out, shooting him a wry smile and earning a laugh in return.

“You are correct, you can pass go, and collect $200. A pretty gnarly accident, the car’s a write-off, but thankfully everyone’s injuries are relatively minor. Some dickhead ran a red light.” You could tell Luke was trying to remain calm, but under the surface he was pissed.

“Not ideal, but at least I get a few days off work.” You joked, grimacing as you tried to sit up. Luke stood and gently maneuvered your pillows to support your back and shoulders better, and you felt a zap of electricity as his hands brushed your arms in passing.

As Luke sat back in the chair next to the bed, you suddenly realised that it was just the two of you in the hospital room.

“No offence, Hemmo, but what are you doing here? Considering we’re no longer significant others, and all…” You said awkwardly, looking down at your arm sling with sudden great interest.

“Very observant, dear. Glad to see the concussion hasn’t affected your short term memory, I was worried you’d forget me entirely. You did, however, forget to update your emergency contact details, so I guess I was first on the list for the hospital to call. Ash, KayKay and I have been taking shifts but they’re out getting food right now - “ The rest of Luke’s explanation was cut off by a gasp and a cheer at the door, signalling Ashton and KayKay’s return and subsequent delight at you being awake.

The days that followed were uncomfortable physically, but kind of heartwarming emotionally. You got home to your apartment thanks to KayKay’s assistance, and found that your friends had stocked your fridge and freezer full of ready-made meals and your favourite snacks. They’d also made a roster so not a day went by without someone popping in to check on you, although you noticed that Luke never came by.

Your recovery was slow but steady, and soon enough the doctors gave you the all clear. At this point, it was nearly 6 months since you’d broken up with Luke, and you could feel your mindset shifting. He was no longer the first person you wanted to call with good or bad news, or the first memories that popped into your head when you needed cheering up. It almost felt like… relief? Because for the longest time, even though you knew the break up was for the best, detaching yourself from one another seemed almost in possible after so many years of so many memories.

I've been waking up alone, I haven't thought of him for days

I'll be honest, It's better off this way

The tipping point came at Calum’s birthday party, a month or so later. Ashton had invited you out for coffee and nonchalantly mentioned that maybe, possibly, well actually extremely likely almost definitely Luke was bringing a date to the gathering at Cal’s house; a girl he’d been seeing for a month or so. Everyone wanted you to be comfortable, and everyone, Cal especially, wanted you to be there, but they also understood if you wanted to avoid any potential awkward encounters with Luke and his new love interest. You assured Ashton that it would be fine, that you honestly weren’t bothered, and laughed off his suggestion of setting you up with a super hot blind date to help level the playing field.

The night came along, and you found yourself stumbling along Calum’s front path in the dark as you tried not to drop the gift you’d bought for him (a new cookbook and a collection of various hot sauces). “Bloody 5sos and the “no good party starts until 11pm rule”, you muttered to yourself as you almost tripped over again, and you heard an indignant shout that sounded very Ashton-like behind you.

“Oi! Don’t be mad at us, you know that rule has never let us down!” Ashton bellowed, as he came forward with his phone flashlight switched on, KayKay not too far behind him.

“Damn girl, you like fiiiiiine!” KayKay said, letting out a low whistle. You rolled your eyes, knowing she was exaggerating. Your outfit was essentially a denim skirt and a t-shirt - maybe you’d sexed it up a little bit with some thigh high boots, tousled hair and a red lip, but all’s fair in love and war, right?

The three of you made it inside, and a very tipsy Calum greeted you with open arms and a lot of excitement at your gift of hot sauce. It felt so nice to be back with all your friends at a house party, like the old days, and you found yourself stepping out onto the back patio for a moment of quiet reflection and to share some pats with Duke.

You’d exchanged a wave with Luke when you’d entered the house, but hadn’t quite worked up the confidence to go up and speak to him, especially when he had his new girl in close proximity. She looked really friendly, though, and you could tell from the spark in both of their eyes that their relationship was blossoming in the best possible way. Part of you thought you’d be upset about it, but all you truly felt was content. Content in your life as it was, surrounded by friends that loved you just as much as you loved them, and actually quite proud of how far you’d come over the past year. You’d learned to stand on your own two feet, and you’d grown into a much more settled, independent human as a result.

You were lost in your train of thought when you heard the song change on the speakers inside. Duke’s ears perked up and he licked your hand attentively when you stopped patting him as the song registered - it was your song. Or at least, it used to be. You felt a smile creep onto your face when you remembered the Sunday mornings of pancakes and singalongs, and the smile grew wider when you saw Luke’s girlfriend dragging him onto the dancefloor, much to his (fake) protests. You made eye contact with your kind-hearted, softly-smiling, gentle-eyed ex-boyfriend, and for a split second you saw a flash of concern cross his face. In response, you raised your glass in a cheers and shot him a wink, which earned a smile and a small laugh from Luke before he turned his attention back to the beautiful girl in his arms. You took a sip, and smiled to yourself. It truly was better off this way.

When I hear it, I just can't stop smiling, I remember you're gone

Baby, it's just a song on the radio, That we used to know

Taglist: If there’s a line through your name, I couldn’t tag you, so please message me to let me know your new URL or what the go is! @suchalonelysunflower @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @loveroflrh @spicycal @notinthesameguey @metalandboybands @cheekysos @ashton-trash @another-lonely-heart @queenalienscherrypie @becihadshawn @allthestarsandthemoon @oyesmendes @andrianawinchester @333-xx @findingliam-o @hoodhoran @rbforsmileycal @myloverboyash @myhappylittleyoutubee @saywhatnow07 @secretsicanthideanymore @ar1analara @killmywildflower

#my writing #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings one shot #luke hemmings fan fiction #5sos one shot #5sos imagine #5sos fanfiction #lol how do i even write things anymore #i feel VERY rusty #but alas #hopefully it's okay #lmk what you think!

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ginkgomoon · 3 years

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Victor’s Aura- A Character Aura Study

This post is my take on Victor’s aura, taken from my knowledge and intuition to depict what kind of aura he has! I did one on Gavin, as well as Gavin’s astrological birth chart so if you haven’t seen them, you can read them after this post!

What is an Aura? “Aura” by the dictionary is “the distinctive atmosphere or quality that seems to surround and be generated by a person, thing, or place”.

It’s essentially the electromagnetic energy field that surrounds all living things. It’s the magnetic field of vibration like how a lighted candle is lit and how a scent or perfume surrounds a flower. In fact, it’s correctly described as an extension of the body. It’s a part of every cell. Your aura can be affected by anything, including traumas, memories and emotions. It can tell us a lot about a person’s mental, physical, emotional state, vitality and path of life. Habitual thoughts, emotions and even illnesses can be clearly revealed. If a person changes their long standing thoughts and emotions, the aura will too reflect that.

Victor’s Aura There are many layers to the aura but let’s start off with the “ground” colour. This is the main colour that dominates the aura both in size and intensity. It’s arguably the most important colour as it shows what the person should be doing in their life.

Victor’s main ground colour is dark yellow (keep in mind this is not defined as “murky”- when someone is lost and muddled in their life). People with dark yellow as their ground are confident, well adjusted and analytical. As a result, they take life one step at a time, one goal at a time, ensuring every project is seen through properly to completion to avoid problems and setbacks later. They are patient people, setting their worthwhile goals in no hurry to reach them, as they know without a doubt that they will obtain their deserved reward in the end. They prefer to do things rationally and in a logical manner, especially at work where they are required to make use of their good memory and love for detail. As they are ambitious and persistent, they often take up roles of leadership, responsibility and of importance. From his corrections on MC’s reports to the food he makes at Souvenir (that is insisted to be cooked according to certain temperatures), Victor is no doubt a detail-oriented leader even whether if the goal he wants to achieve is related to work or not.

MC: It’s a sort of mark that can be left in literature or in a photograph… and I can feel it. Victor’s eyes are lowered. In his clear and tranquil eyes, there are ripples of light and shadows. Victor: Such as? The smile tugging at the corner of his mouth is clear, and I ponder this seriously. MC: For example, the way I write proposals has changed. The format of my proposals has changed. The indent of the first line, font size 15, 1.5 spacing between lines… it’s the format you find most pleasing to the eye! Victor’s eyebrow quirks. Victor: That’s all? MC: There’s more! I’ve become so much more picky with food. I never used to complain that food tastes bad, but eating at Souvenir has cultivated my palate. Now, when I eat even Michelin meals, I feel as if something’s lacking… -CN Exhibition Date

“What happened with SE is just an example. We’re from different businesses and different fields. There’s no need to compare yourself with me. Also, I’m older than you. When you’ve reached my age, you might attain the achievements I have today.” -CN Night Meeting Date

“Slow and steady wins the race” is the moral that they live by, but sometimes adhering to this credo may frustrate others as they can be so analytical and detail oriented at times- usually at great lengths. A cute little add from the Tender Regards Date around the concept of snail mail, time (Victor’s evol!) and the goal of always reaching your destination in the end demonstrate this this motif in Victor’s relationship with MC.

“Looks like you should have received this Future Mail. Apart from supporting your event, I’m only going to do this once. This will not be repeated. The things I want to say to you are all in this videotape. It only belongs to you.” -CN Tender Regards Date

“When will you finally understand? It’s all right. I’m patient. I’ll wait for you to see the light slowly.” -Rooftop Date

Although they have feelings, they only ever reveal it to people close to them. They enjoy the detail and technicality of conversations and find it hard to talk about their emotions. Victor’s Exhibition and Tender Regards Date are very useful sources of information in relation to these topics, as it displays Victor’s deep emotions of affection to MC and highlights the importance of expressing emotions to those you love. Dark yellow aura peoples’ greatest lesson in life is to be more emotionally open, and when do they do, it usually occurs later in life.

“The writer wrote it down herself - “The time I spent loving someone, not a single second of it was wasted.” I rarely hear such words leave Victor’s mouth, and it makes me feel a little surreal. In my memory, we very rarely talk about the topic of ‘love’. Maybe it’s because he rarely says what’s in his heart. Maybe it’s because I’m used to being thick-skinned. We never have the opportunity to seriously understand the meaning in these words. -CN Exhibition Date

“Do you still remember the special episode on “Feelings” from before? Actually, this theme was inspired by that episode. Giving gifts is a common way to express how one feels. But it’s not that easy to send a gift to the future. With Future Mail, the sender can convey their feelings and surprises in this gift to the other party across time.” -CN Tender Regards date

People with dark yellow as their ground enjoy system and order such as routines at work and in their home life. This is applied to Victor’s strict schedules in his day to day life, such as taking on what time he sleeps and when he gets up to go on his morning jogs. They need to consider new ideas before grudgingly accepting them. This is especially applied to when Victor always says “just this once” to MC when he’s being “childish” with her (but we really know that isn’t the case, he knows this all too well, too).

“Because a certain greedy cat always says she wants to eat something sweet after dinner, I made pudding before leaving the house. Do you think this is a mark of how I’ve been changed?” -CN Exhibition Date

Next is Victor’s “radiating” colour. This represents his interests and motivations. It adds strength to the ground colour. They can work well in harmony, some can conflict.

I would take Victor’s radiating as violet. Violet is a very highly spiritual colour, as people with this colour as their radiating will have a very spiritual take on life, as they are deep thinkers who like to analyse everything and think matters though logically. They are also naturally intuitive. Violet radiatings have the ability to come up with unique and unusual solutions to problems. As they enjoy learning, they have the potential to become experts in their field of endeavour- which is no surprise for Victor as he’s basically an “on top of the world tyrant” in the industry of finances. In addition, they feel things deeply, but rather operate things on an emotionally free level- again with the ground aura traits to enhance this! However, Victor too, has a high EQ despite this.

“I’m no different from you. There are many things I cannot do or force to make happen. It’s okay to not be strong, it’s okay to not do well. You don’t have to bottle up your emotions.” … “I won’t tell you to keep holding on no matter what difficulties you face. That isn’t realistic. There will come a time when you will become an even better version of yourself who will have enough courage and experience to deal with all of this.” -CN Colours of Rain Date

Overall, Victor’s aura of darker yellow and violet depict him as more of a straightforward kind of person, hardworking and articulate, however soon we realise there’s more to what we see of Victor, like how MC thinks that Victor comes off as a “heartless CEO” throughout the main story chapters but he slowly warms up to her whilst determining to prove her wrong. Victor is wise, and doesn’t bother to put in his personal efforts to where it’s not needed, but when it’s up to him- he strives to go all the way for perfection and with the best of his ability. He spends a lot of time in deep contemplation to determine his plans of attack which allows him to execute them well. His values and worth ethics will always in the end allow him to make time for MC, no matter how busy he is :)

And lastly…

Victor leans against the window, his face still written with distaste, but he does not attempt to remove that childish-looking blanket. He brings the red cup to his lips and gently blows on it. The warm light encases him, softening the aura surrounding him. His outline also appears gentler. He doesn’t look as impossible to get close to. My eyes land on Victor, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He puts down the cup in his hands, lowering his eyes, as though deep in thought. This is a Victor I have never seen before… In this moment, he seems to have put down his stubbornness and distant aura - becoming someone within reach. Only now does Victor finally feel my gaze. He raises his head to look at me. -CN Warm Date

All of a sudden, he lifts his other hand gently. A water droplet pelts onto his palm, as though pulling him into the pattering rain. Seeing this, I find myself subconsciously frozen in place. Because of the enshrouding misty rain, the Victor before me appears warmer and more tender than usual. -CN Tender Regards Date

It always has and always will be MC to see this side of him- the tenderness and the willingness of how he opens up to her- his aura willingly to embrace hers too. Fun fact- auras can deflect off one another if you’re with someone you dislike. But when it’s with two people in love, their auras connect, combine and produce an even brighter and bigger accommodating aura for the both of them. He’s certainly living working towards to achieve his greatest life goals- both in his businesses and being with MC, striving together to make great changes and milestones in their respective industries. Without a doubt, she has helped Victor’s aura grow, expand and shine the many rays through his doubts, allowing a light from within to burn brighter and evolve him into more of the brilliant, hardworking and tender man we know today.

#victor #li zeyan #mlqc translation #mlqc analysis #mlqc victor #恋与制作人 #mr love queens choice #love and producer #mlqc cn #mlqc en #aura reading #aura

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hatterstan-shameblog · 3 years

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The Best Quiche in Tokyo

Rating: ‼️18+ Minors Do Not Interact ‼️

Warnings: explicit sexuality (it literally takes place at an orgy so like.......Y’know)

Characters: Hatter (Takeru), Aguni, and Female Reader (You)

Summary: When one of your customers invites you to a potluck-slash-orgy, you assume the “orgy” part is a joke—because nobody really hosts a potluck and an orgy at the same time, right?

Notes: One time, @nessinborderland (happy belated birthday btw) gave me the brilliant idea of Hatter hosting an orgy and serving really good food and I just......ran with it. This ended up being part comedy, part character study—and mostly features Aguni, if you can believe it! I don’t know, I just let the story take me where it wanted to go! (Also, this is definitely the longest thing I’ve written on here, so get ready to dig in!)

It’s a beautiful Sunday afternoon in March, and you’re standing in front of a hat shop. Well, technically, you’re slightly to the left of a hat shop, peering down a skinny alleyway in search of a door or a set of stairs—something to indicate that there is, in fact, an apartment up there and this is not just an elaborate prank.

There is a very good chance this is a prank—after all, the eccentric man who walked into your stationary store two weeks ago seemed...off. Not in a bad way, just. One-of-a-kind. Unique. Entirely himself, in a way that people usually aren’t.

Was he flirting or was he just overly friendly when he leaned in just a bit too close to see the various fonts available for his choosing? It’s difficult to say. He did seem genuinely interested to know the difference between serif and sans serif, which doesn’t much thrill your customers on the regular. Does asking for an extra business card ‘for his personal records’ count as a pick-up line? It’s hard to say. Not that it matters much, of course—you are a professional, he is a customer, and there’s nothing more to it.

And you really are a professional, because when he told you that he wanted—in metallic gold, 30-point, center aligned—to say, quote, “The Third Annual Springtime Potluck and Orgy: Presented by Danma Takeru,” you didn’t so much as bat an eye. Partially because he was very insistent that you spell his name correctly, and partially because. Well. How does a person respond to that?

In truth, he ended up being one of your better customers—he showed a genuine interest in the process while still deferring to your expertise—and when one of the printed invitations arrived in your mailbox, you figured you might as well go see what the fuss is about. It could be an opportunity to meet some new friends, maybe drum up a little business if you’re lucky.

And besides—a potluck-slash-orgy? Who would even do that?

The merry little jingle of bell catches your attention, and you turn your head to see a solemn-looking man peeking his head around the hat shop’s glass door. He looks at you. He looks at the plastic-wrapped pie in your hands. He looks back at you.

He frowns.

“Hi,” you say, putting on your most charming smile in the hopes that he’ll stop looking at you like you just slapped him across the face, “I’m, uh, I’m here for the party!”

You shuffle over to him, careful not to scuff the white of your sensible-yet-pretty patent leather heels on the sidewalk. Maybe you’re dressed too formally—he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of jeans while you’re sporting a calf-length chiffon dress dyed in a lovely array of watercolor blues and violets.

Oh dear, what a faux-pas! There was no dress code listed on the invite, but maybe you should’ve dressed in a more casual fashion. You don’t live far, you could probably run home quickly and change...

“Do you...have an invitation,” the man asks, crossing his arms across his chest and furrowing his brow. Is he annoyed? No, no. He seems. Confused? Wary? How very strange.

“Oh, of course,” you answer, reaching a fumbling hand into your purse to search for the little pink envelope, “I almost forgot it walking out the door, but I remembered at the last second! I can be a bit scatterbrained sometimes!”

The man doesn’t say anything, but leans forward to inspect the invitation once you manage to produce it from the cluttered mess that is your handbag.

“I know the time said it started at three, but the pie took a little longer than expected. It takes time for the chocolate to set, and—“ you gasp, covering your mouth with your invite-laden hand, “I haven’t kept you waiting, have I? I’m so sorry, Mister...?”

“Call me Aguni,” he says, and his eyes narrow slightly when you give him your most chipper ‘thank you’ and apologize for not being able to shake his hand at the moment. What a strange man.

“You,” he asks slowly, “you read the invitation, right?”

“Of course I did! I’m the one who made them,” you explain, puffing your chest up with pride, “and our host was kind enough to send one to me! He must have really liked my work!”

“...Yeah,” the man called Aguni says, “I’m sure that’s it.”

But, to your pleasure, he steps aside and holds the door open for you to enter. Such a strange man, but at least he’s gentlemanly enough to hold the door for you as you step inside.

“Oh, wow,” you say, “this place is amazing!”

And maybe it sounds silly, but you’re being entirely honest. There are hats in shelves, hats hanging on the wall, hats on faceless plastic heads on the counter and placed atop a long wooden table to the left—all of them in different shapes and colors, embellished and feathered and ribboned to the nines. There’s a certain magic to a little place like this, a kind of whimsical charm you want to bottle and keep on the kitchen windowsill.

“Walls could use some paint. Floor needs polished, too,” Aguni says, “but...yeah, I guess it’s nice enough.”

You follow him as he leads you towards the back, your eyes drinking in all the details of this fascinating little shop.

“No, no, the walls and the floor are perfect,” you assert with a wide-mouthed smile, “it gives it character. Makes it feel...like home, I think.”

“Takeru says the same thing,” Aguni answers with a chuckle, “although I also think he just doesn’t want to put in the work. He’s...not very handy.”

There is a second door at the very back of the shop, and once again, Aguni holds it open for you. Perhaps his original air of discontent was a simple case of shyness—maybe he just takes a bit to warm up to people. Well, just wait until he tries your homemade triple-chocolate silk pie; you’ll be best friends in no time!

He leads you into a tiny courtyard, which is just barely big enough to hold a steep set of metal stairs and a handful of plant pots, which remain empty due to the early spring cold. But, oh, it must be so lovely back here when the plants are in full bloom! You say as much to your companion, who actually manages to smile a bit in your direction as he leads you up the stairs.

“Those are mine, actually,” he tells you, his boot-covered feet thunking up the stairs at a leisurely pace, “He lets me garden back here.”

You picture it—this tall, stoic man, kneeling on the ground, his gloved hands tending little green sprouts as the morning sun shines gold and warm on the cold stone ground. The thought of it warms you. Does he know anything about succulents? You’ve always thought they would look so cute in the shop...

“Look,” Aguni says when the two of you reach a very drab-looking door, “I’m not trying to be a jerk, but...you sure you’re ready for this?”

What an odd thing to say! Maybe you’re acting more nervous than you originally thought? It is rather daunting, walking into a party of strangers; but, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

“You’re sweet for worrying about me,” you respond, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “but if everyone is half as lovely as you, I’m sure I’ll do just fine. I will probably stick with you for a while—if that’s okay, of course!”

“Alright, then.” Aguni says—and is that a hint of a blush you see creeping up his neck? All this time, you thought he was just being strange, but he’s just a little shy! You give his arm a knowing pat before withdrawing your touch, and he quickly turns around to unlock the door.

Are all of Takeru’s friends this adorable? You hope so. You follow your bashful escort inside—the genkan is already full of shoes, but you manage to squeeze yours in between a pair of snakeskin wedge heels and the wall. Aguni also removes his boots, and you’re happy he isn’t going to stay down in the hat shop the whole time. He can introduce you to everyone, and maybe—

You hear something. Was that...? No, no, you must be imagining things. You definitely did not just hear a woman moan on the other side of the wall. You stop and angle your head towards the door slightly to get a better listen. It’s all rather muffled (it must be well-insulated!) but there’s definitely some kind of music playing. Maybe it’s part of a song?

It happens again. This time, it’s deeper, and more of a prolonged “ah” sound. And then laughter. Aguni is looking at you in that concerned way of his again.

Instead of waiting for him to open the door for you a third time, you decide to take initiative and open it yourself—a show of confidence, to put his mind at ease. For a moment, it looks like he’s going to try and stop you, but he instead just crosses his arms and watches as you open the door to the rest of the house.

The first thing you see is candles. Little flickering spots of yellow-orange flame, winking inside clear glass votives. A trio of them on the kitchen table to the left, surrounded by a mismatched variety of trays and plates and bowls, each holding a different delicacy.

There’s a candle on the kitchen counter, next to the refrigerator. One on a bookshelf, which is filled to bowing with vinyl LP’s. Two on either side of the television, and a cluster of them on a coffee table next to a fishbowl of shiny gold squares and—

Oh.

Oh, dear.

There are limbs. Moving, writing, reaching. Hands grabbing. Mouths kissing. Mouths...doing things other than kissing. Oh, God, there’s boobs. And somebody’s butt. Aw, geez, there goes another one. How many naked people are there in here, anyways?

“Oh, hey!”

A familiar voice calls out from the fleshy throng, and your stomach drops. Like Venus emerging from the surf, you see Danma Takeru rise up from the crowd, hair mussed and smiling mouth smudged with at least two different colors of lipstick. While he does appear to be wearing some kind of brightly-patterned robe, the more he stands, the less confident you are that it’s actually covering anything.

You spin on your heel, unwilling as of the moment to become visually acquainted with your host’s penis, and you’re met once more with Aguni’s concerned stare. This time, though, you understand why he’s looking at you like that, and it makes the burn of embarrassment creeping up your neck that much hotter.

“Do you want to leave?”

This is. Oh, boy. This is a lot. Aguni must be able to sense your discomfort, although you imagine it’s rather palpable at the moment.

“I,” you say, “I don’t...know.”

And you say you don’t know because you truly don’t know what to do. Was it really so naïve of you to think that the ‘orgy’ part of the invitation was some kind of weird inside joke? Is there some kind of social protocol for these things?

You feel two hands descend upon each of your shoulders, and you try to convince yourself that they are slightly damp with sweat as opposed to any other kind of aqueous material.

“You made it,” Takeru exclaims with genuine excitement as he gives your person a gentle shake, “I’m so glad you decided to come!”

“He’s covered, don’t worry,” Aguni says to you before directing his attention over your shoulder, “I take it you didn’t tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

The hand on your right shoulder stays while the left slips away, leaving room for Takeru to stand at your side and squeeze you against him in a weird little half-hug. In another situation, you might enjoy the way the silk of his robe whispers against the skin of your arms, perhaps smile at the warm comfort of a lazy arm thrown about your shoulders like a heavy scarf, but. Well. Right now, it’s just a little...awkward.

Aguni rolls his eyes.

“About that,” he says, gesturing impatiently at the debauchery behind your back, “I mean, just look at her face.”

“Mori-chan, how could you be so rude to our lovely guest? Darling,” Takeru says, turning your face towards him with two fingers under your chin, “don’t listen to him, you’re...ah, I see what you mean.”

Is your expression really that bad? It must be, because Takeru very slowly and very carefully withdrawing his arm from around your shoulder and taking a generous step to the side. His mouth is twisted into a rather comical gaping frown, his eyes nervously darting side-to-side.

“In my defense,” he says, putting his hands up like some kind of fucked-out traffic cop at a four-way intersection, “the, uh, the orgy part was very prominent. Big letters, right at the top.”

“I,” you reply, “I thought it was...a joke?”

“This is why we don’t just hand out invitations,” Aguni grits through his teeth, “for fuck’s sake, Takeru, we’ve talked about this!”

“I know, I know. I am humble enough to admit when I’ve fucked up, and this time, I have fucked up in a truly spectacular fashion,” Takeru’s gaze shifts from horrified to quizzical as he scrutinized you for a moment, “Unless...you’d like to stay?”

You look at the pie. The slowly-warming chocolate is beginning to sweat beneath the thin film of plastic wrap you so lovingly secured with lilac ribbon.

“Or you could slap him on the way out,” Aguni offers, “he’s very slap-able.”

“It’s true! And when you slap me,” he whips his head to the side suddenly, “my hair does that and it looks really cool!”

Yeah, okay—it did look pretty cool. But, does he deserve to be slapped? Probably for something else, but not for this. It’s a simple misunderstanding, and honest mistake on both your parts.

“I want...” you start, and the way they’re looking at you, wide-eyed and breath-bated, reminds you of the final rose ceremony on The Bachelorette.

It’s kind of hilarious, actually.

“I, uh,” you continue, “I want to...to put this in the refrigerator, if that’s okay? It’s, uh, starting to melt...”

To say that Takeru’s face lights up is an understatement. With a mega-watt smile and a sparkle in his eye, he swoops his arm back around your shoulder and begins leading you towards the kitchen.

Although you have (almost) gotten used to the sea of strangers fucking and moaning in the background, you still choose to politely avert your gaze as you pass them by. You instead focus on Takeru, who has taken this opportunity to explain the inner-workings of...whatever this is.

“...And I personally see to it that these events remain exclusive,” he says, “Although I do occasionally invite outsiders, such as yourself. You were just so sweet and helpful, I couldn’t resist trying my luck and sending you an invite.”

“Thank you,” you say, “although, I, uh...”

He opens the refrigerator door and motions for you to place the pie inside. Luckily, it’s mostly empty, save for a collection of bottled water and a tin of what looks to be cat food. You’re grateful to not have to carry it around anymore, and thank him for his assistance.

It’s finally time for you to acknowledge the proverbial ‘elephant in the room’—except, you’re not exactly sure how to begin.

“I,” you start, stopping to bite your lip, “I, uh. Is it okay if I...don’t, y’know, do the whole...uh...sex thing?”

“Oh, do you prefer to watch?”

“No! I mean, no, uh,” you laugh nervously, “I’m just...”

Takeru chuckles.

“I’m only teasing. You’re more than welcome to skip the sex and go straight to the food. As long as you’re on the kitchen side, nobody will touch you. It’s one of our rules.”

He motions for Aguni to come over with a wave of his arm, smiling when the tall man comes to lean against the kitchen counter.

“Mori-chan also prefers to abstain from the more salacious aspects of our little gathering, so the two of you can keep each other company.”

“I’m usually in charge of the food,” Aguni adds, “and I try to make sure the candles stay lit.”

“I, uh, I noticed those on the way in. They’re nice.”

Takeru leans towards you as if he’s about to share a secret.

“I don’t mean to be indelicate,” he says in a low tone, “but there is a certain stench that comes with these events. Sweat, musk, various secretions...it all really adds up in the end.”

“It’s awful,” Aguni concludes, “but candles help dissipate the worst of it.”

“Oh, and the ambiance,” Takeru exclaims, “there’s just nothing like candlelight to really get people in the mood for—“

A sharp ding! makes you jump. From what you can gather, it came from the small oven to Aguni’s left.

“Hold it right there,” Takeru growls towards Aguni, who had been in the middle of donning a pair of floral-printed oven mitts, “she needs thirty more seconds.”

Aguni looks at you and rolls his eyes. You stifle a giggle behind your hand, hoping your host doesn’t notice.

“I saw that,” Takeru snips towards Aguni, “honestly, Mori-chan, you get one new friend...”

And even though he’s mid-scold, there remains a joviality to Takeru’s tone—a testament, you believe, to what can only be a long-standing friendship between him and Aguni. It’s hard not to feel jealous of their easy back-and-forth, their banter like a well-matched game of tennis.

“Now you can take her out,” Takeru says, “but, so help me God, if you don’t let her rest for seven minutes–“

“–They’ll never find my body, I know, I know,” Aguni finishes, gingerly placing a metal pan on the stove, “Look, we’ve got it handled. You can go back to your side of the party and I’ll call you when it’s plated.”

“Fine,” Takeru answers with a false pout, “but only because I know she’ll keep you honest.”

And just like that, it’s just you and Aguni once more—but, this time, he seems much more at ease to have you around. Happy, almost. It must be kind of boring, sitting alone in a kitchen while everyone else is...well, busy.

“So,” you say, moving to Aguni’s side to peer into the baking pan, “looks kind of like...a quiche?”

“Not just any quiche,” Aguni answers, opening the drawer to his right and digging a hand inside, “the best quiche in Tokyo.”

He pulls out a shiny silver chef’s knife and places it on the counter. Next comes a pair of dainty forks, delicate little things one might use for tea cakes at a French-inspired bistro. Knowing what you know about Takeru—which, granted, isn’t very much at all—it doesn’t surprise you in the least.

“You’re in front of the plates,” he says, tapping the cabinet directly in front of your face, “grab us some?”

“But we’re supposed to wait seven minutes,” you protest, all while following his instructions, “it’s only been...like, three.”

Aguni’s eyes take on a glint of mischief.

“Only a problem if we get caught.”

Honestly, it looks divine. Pillowy-soft and the perfect pale-yellow hue, delicate tendrils of steam billowing out as he drags the knife through. You hadn’t ever seen a non-rectangular quiche before, but you suppose it makes sense; there are a fair few people in attendance, and the standard circular composition wouldn’t quite feed everyone.

He serves you first. A corner piece (which he insists are the best), speckled with herbs and studded with little pieces of what you assume to be some kind of ham. Little strings of cheese stick to the blade of the knife, and Aguni scrapes them off with the side of a fork, which he then hands to you.

“Takeru doesn’t cook much,” Aguni explains, playing his own small square, “but when he does...”

The sound that comes from your mouth as you take your first bite of quiche could rival any of those happening in the orgy across the room. Oh, that is so good! Buttery crust, the salt of cheese and ham, the subtle bite of onion—and there’s something else there, something you can’t quite place, but you know it tastes absolutely heavenly. Immediately, you take another bite.

“Grew the herbs de Provence myself,” Aguni mentions, “He refuses to use store-bought.”

“Makes all the difference,” you respond, “I could eat the whole pan by myself.”

“I did that for my last birthday, actually,” Aguni chuckles around a forkful of quiche, “Takeru insisted on putting all thirty-eight candles in before carrying it to the table—you know, like a dumbass. Part of his hair caught fire, and I had to give him a haircut at two in the morning because he was so distraught.”

The two of you laugh—Aguni at the memory, and you at the idea of a tearful Takeru sulking as Aguni snipping the fried locks with a pair of kitchen shears.

“He forgave me, even though I took a whole two inches off,” Aguni sets his empty plate in the sink and looks out of the small window above it, “He’s not a bad guy, you know. Doesn’t always make the best choices, sure, but he’s got a good heart in him.”

There is a sadness here, something in Aguni that speaks to a troubled past you haven’t quite unearthed yet—and you know better than to press him, especially here, especially now.

“Well, I can’t say I’m an expert,” you say, handing him your plate, “but you two seem like decent people. Orgies aside, of course.”

“Of course,” Aguni nods, “though I don’t suppose you’ll come to the next one, will you?”

For the first time since your arrival, you allow yourself to watch the festivities happening across the room. It isn’t that bad, you suppose—it’s just a group of people having a fun time together, laughing and gasping and enjoying each others’ bodies in a safe and comfortable place. It’s not something you necessarily want to do yourself, but...well, the ‘weird’ factor of the whole thing has gone down exponentially over the past hour or so.

“And miss out on the best quiche in Tokyo,” you say, nudging against Aguni’s arm with your shoulder, “not a chance!”

#alice in borderland #hatter #danma takeru #alice in borderland netflix #spicy boy #morizono aguni #writings and such #THIS TOOK ME OVER A MONTH TO WRITE OH MY GOD #alice in borderland fanfic #obvi this takes place before borderland #so I guess this is an au?#also I hinted at Ziggy the cat because I am self-indulgent and evil #can’t believe I actually wrote it lads

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luvlyrv · 4 years

Text

Second Place (Joy x Fem!Reader)

Genre: Enemies to lovers, fluff

Summary: As a passionate swimmer, everything was going amazing for you until she came into your life. Since then things haven’t been the same and you can’t help but to feel frustrated and defeated. What will happen to this unresolved tension?

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: My first proper post, I truly hope you like it. I tried hard to make it a believable enemies to lovers dynamic and for it to be high quality. My draft ended up being 4 pages on google docs on size 11 tnr font haha. Please get back to me with any feedback you can and I apologize if there are any grammatical issues. Dedicated to my friend Kat :)

Date: 6/25/2020

You ready yourself at the edge of the pool as you turn to look at her. Your face began to heat with anger and your chest was pounding. How could she be so perfect? She was seemingly always a step ahead of you. It felt like she took everything away from you. She took your friends, your teammates, she swam like a goddess, all while being so gorgeous and...

Oh god? What were you thinking? You shook your head and turned away to focus on the water gently swaying in front of you. You steady your breathing and dive into the water. The familiar and welcoming cool feeling enveloped your body. It was usually in the water that you felt at peace, yet this time the only thing you could think about was her. Your only thoughts were about your recent built-up frustration. Sooner than you expected, you felt the wall of the pool and lifted yourself up. Your breathing was heavy as you looked at your coach with a stopwatch in her hand. “Good work Y/N! You managed to shave off a couple seconds on your PR. Keep working hard and you might beat Joy over there!”, you only managed to chuckle a bit in response.

That seriously pissed you off.

Ever since that girl transferred, you’ve been in second place. Knocked off the pedestal you’ve kept for so long. When you used to be the best on the team, she stomped on you. All of a sudden nearly all your ‘friends’ paid no mind to you. Instead favoring to focus on the new girl, who’s infectious smile garnered her the nickname Joy.

What hurt the most is that you understood why people were dying for her attention. While you excelled in your studies and sports, she somehow did even better. The very little free-time Sooyoung seemed to have was fought over by everyone.

Ever since then, you silently declared her as your rival.

You make your way towards the locker room when you feel a smack on your shoulder. Sooyoung passes by and you see her annoying little smile as she says, “Maybe you’ll beat me next time”.

Since the moment she walked into your life it felt like she had her eyes on you, that she was out to get you. You try to shake off your anger and continue making your way. Inside, you hear the murmurs and giggles of some of the girls joking around, as well as the praises your teammates would give Sooyoung. You ignore it and mind your own business. As practice is wrapping up and everyone says their goodbyes, your coach pulls you and Sooyoung aside.

“Now girls, I’m sure it’s quite obvious that the both of you are the top swimmers we have on this team,” your coach begins to quietly speak to the both of you. “The other girls on the team have made their opinions of you quite clear. When the season officially starts I need you guys to help unify the team and do even better than last year,” you start grinning. You already knew where this conversation was going, having heard iterations of the same speech before. You were glad to know that your coach still viewed you highly.

“Sooyoung, the team needs you to be their captain. Y/N, you need to work to help co-captain this team into victory.”

Your smile seemed to slowly fade.

“Ah, thank you so much! I’m so honored to be in this position. You know I’ll do my best for the team.”, Sooyoung said with her iconic smile, bowing to show her appreciation. You try not to show the disappointment on your face. You thought that even though Sooyoung was a better swimmer than you, you’d still the get the position of captain. After all, you’re the one who’s been on the team longest, who’s worked with your teammates for longer than Sooyoung has. Even though in a sense the position of co-captain was the same, you couldn’t help but to feel upset with the #2 label being stuck on you. All you could do was put on a small smile as you say in a meek voice, “Thank you coach. I accept this responsibility and will work hard.”

Your coach smiled at the both of you and patted your backs. “I’m so incredibily proud of what you’ve both accomplished. Now, I’m asking that the both of you try to be friendlier with each other. I see the kinds of looks you give. Just lighten up, okay? We need strong pillars for the team this year. Maybe try practicing with each other more and learn from each other.”

Coach sends the both of you out as she get’s caught up doing her own work. You quietly walk out of the building and to the parking lot together. Even though you were walking next to a person you felt like you despised, you couldn’t help but also feel amazed. Sooyoung was certainly one of the most hardworking and talented people you’ve ever met. You snap out of those thoughts though when all of a sudden you hear her voice.

“Hey, about what coach said... “

“Yeah?”

“Let’s swim together. For practice, I guess. Coach would like that.”

You weigh the matter in your head for a few seconds. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, they say. Perhaps this was a wonderful opportunity being presented right in front of you. If you two swam together you would get to observe her technique. Maybe you could impress or intimidate her. Really, you wanted to keep tabs on her, and if she’s by your side all the time, if she’s the one you’re competing against day by day... what else would be a better motivator to improve? You sigh before talking.

“Sure.”

⁑

Weeks pass by and you spend nearly everyday with Sooyoung. Although you originally thought that it would be a good idea, it ended up being hell on Earth. When you thought that you could motivate yourself, which was true to some extent, you ended up being more frustrated. Every time you practiced together Sooyoung couldn’t help but to make snide remarks.

“Slipping up? Ah geez, and I thought you were finally beginning to improve.”

“God, You’re like a fish out of water. Flapping your arms like that.”

“How’d you even make it this far?”

Every time she made one of her comments you would ball up your firsts and count to ten. What made it worse was that you felt horrible seeing her improve so much. It made you feel like you could never catch up.

One night when practicing late together your feelings had boiled over. Both of you were in the locker room and had just finished changing clothes. You look at her as she has that stupid smirk on her face and she begins opening her mouth. Before you could spew another hurtful comment you slam your fist next to her, a loud banging noise erupting as your hand came in contact with the metal of the locker. You’re face to face with her as your eyes begin to water.

“God! Why are you so insufferable? You’re everything I want, you know. You have absolutely everything and you have the audacity to rub it in my face. Do you know how much that hurts? Ever since you transferred here my life has been so different. You make me feel so isolated and useless, how can I ever catch up to someone like you? Tell me, how? Are you happy now?”

You knew your face was reed as wet tears streamed down your face.

“Are you...? Now can you stop... stop saying such hurtful things to me. Please.”

Your voice cracked during your last few sentences.

You feel like a fool as you stand there, looking at Sooyoung’s lost face. You turn around and head for the exit. “Forget it.” you say. Before you make it far you feel a soft tug on your hand and you turn back around.

Sooyoung gives you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. As much as you hate her your heart broke when you saw the pain on what was usually a radiant and happy face. Her mouth opens up a little bit.

“I’m sorry.”

“Is that all?” you ask and begin turning around again. Once again you feel that soft tug. You felt grateful for it, because as soon as you dismissed her apology like that your heart broke again. You face her another time and let her speak.

“That was out of hand. I’m so sorry. I’ve been so rude to you... I should’ve known better. Look, Y/N, why do you think I transferred here in the first place?”

“I-I don’t know... I mean we’re known for our academics I guess.” you felt dumbfounded and startled from the strange question.

“There’s that, but there’s also you.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you.” Sooyoung gives a soft smile to you. “I guess you never noticed me since we did different events at the time, but I saw you and noticed you before I ever came here. I’ve always loved swimming, but when I got to see you swim, you were on a completely different level. I saw a passion I never saw or felt before. You inspired me a lot, Y/N. To be a better person, to be a better swimmer. I saw that charming smile on your face, I saw your affect on your teammates, and I wanted to be like you.”

You stand there as the tears going down your face were appearing for a different reason. Sooyoung takes a step closer to you.

“I trained so hard. Hours and hours of swimming daily, every part of me being sore. I wanted to be here with you because I thought if I was right next to a star, I’d shine brightly too. I just wanted your attention so bad I didn’t think hard enough about how all my actions would affect you, and that’s my shortcoming.”

“Sooyoung, I-”

“What I’m trying to say is I’ve admired you for a long time.”

You don’t know how to feel. You couldn’t tell if the warm budding feeling in your chest was from surprise or something else. How could she of all people admire you? The perfect Sooyoung who brings joy to all of those around her. How could she ever view someone like you so highly? Every ounce of anger you had felt since she arrived began to melt away.

You hug her tightly and feel her arms warp around your waist in a way that fit perfectly. You softly whisper into her ear.

“I think I admire you too.”

Suddenly she pulls away from the hug and before you could react she placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I can give you one for every mean thing I’ve said.”

#girl group scenarios #girl group imagines #red velvet imagines #red velvet #red velvet scenarios #park sooyoung #park sooyoung x reader #joy x reader #red velvet x reader #red velvet joy #red velvet sooyoung #kpop au #kpop writing #girl group stan #gg stan #gg writing #red velvet kpop

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Or The Thought Of You? (A’Whora/Joe Black) - Juno

Summary: Aurora has a chance encounter with the singer in the bar which leaves her wanting more.

I hope you like this slightly late submission for the rarepair songfic challenge! The song in question is Nightwish’s Slow Love Slow.

For once Aurora was early.

It gave her time to take in the optics of the bar she sat at, warm amber light that illuminated the deep mahogany finishing, sophistication clinging to it and to the air. There were so many bottles of spirits in the back behind the bar, spirits with names she could barely think of how to pronounce. On the stage, a live band played soft jazz music - a piano, a double bass, a cello - with gentle precision that was just distinguishable over the delicate chatter of everyone around her.

The clientele, evidently from another era, Aurora was surrounded by a sea of form-fitting Donna Karan dresses and Rolex watches. Aurora thought she looked like she blended in, at least in appearance, in the long black dress with the slit up the leg and the patent black stilettos she’d ‘borrowed’ from her housemate, gold trim accentuated by her earrings, her hair still in its perfect shape.

But she stood out a mile because she was early , or maybe the other two were just late . Leaving her on her own, alight like a lighthouse or so she felt.

When Tia had suggested this place one lunch break, it had been a half-hearted joke, too posh for them and full of rich folks, but then Lawrence had piped up that she’d always wondered what it was like inside, so now all three of them were come down for the night, along with Tia’s flatmate Tayce. It sounded like a laugh. Live cabaret, posh drinks, and unpronounceable cocktails on the enormous menu with tiny writing that Aurora had in her hands right now.

The barman came to Aurora eventually, and she ordered herself a cosmo, the only one she recognised (even though she’d never tried one), enjoying watching the other bar staff shaking cocktail mixers as she waited, and when it was served to her on its own little napkin, Aurora felt like she’d fallen into a Bond film. Maybe she had.

For a split second she saw herself as a Bond girl, but the illusion was quickly shattered as she reached for the drink; it went flying, knocked across the bar by a hand, waved emphatically from a woman who had appeared on her right.

By some miracle Aurora seemed to have missed getting soaked, but her wrist was seized by a hand in a powder-blue opera glove and squeezed in condolence. Aurora was met by a pair of grey eyes, framed by pencil-thin eyebrows, and a peplum gown that matched her gloves in colour.

“I’m dreadfully sorry for that,” the woman said earnestly. “Let me get you another.”

Aurora was taken aback by how much this woman’s low but melodic voice made her scalp tingle. It made her want her to keep talking. But - is it … - Aurora inhaled when she realised. The blue gown with the white tuxedo embellishment, the quaffed red hair in victory rolls? She knew this person. She’d seen her before. She was plastered on the posters on the windows of this place, her name in that gilded-age font …

“Joe Black?”

Joe turned back to Aurora at her whisper of realisation, an impish smile spreading across her face at Aurora’s awed voice.

“In the flesh, darling!”

Joe threw back her head and cackled, a garish contrast to the silkiness of her voice. Aurora expected the clientele around her to stare, but no one batted an eyelid at her outburst.

“You - you’re -“

“Short?” Joe giggled, leaning closer to Aurora and dropping her voice lower. “I get that one all the time. That’s all people say to me when they see me. ‘ Oh, Joe, I thought you’d be much taller!’ ”

“No - I mean, you’re -“

But Aurora’s words vanished as the barman scurried over with Aurora’s new drink, and what looked like the same thing in the same Martini glass for Joe. Joe curled her fingers around the stem of the glass with delicate precision, swiveling on her stool to face Aurora dead on.

“Here’s to …” Joe shook her head and waved a hand dismissively, “… I don’t know, Glenn Close. First person that came to mind.” And she smirked, before raising her glass to cheers with Aurora and then to her lips, her eyes holding Aurora’s as she did the same.

Aurora almost choked on her sip as Joe continued to drink, until she had almost drained the glass, licking her lips and sighing contentedly.

“What the -“

“It’s my usual, darling. Don’t worry! It’s only water!” Joe threw back her head and laughed again. “You wouldn’t think I’d want any liquid courage before taking my place on stage, would you? Ah, no - the old Joe Black, now - she was a bit of a boozy cow, but nowadays, it doesn’t do one’s reputation any good to be plastered before your first song!”

The odd lyrical quality to her voice made Aurora convinced she was putting on a character, but she couldn’t deny that she found Joe’s eccentricity utterly fascinating, found herself being drawn towards her aura.

“Why don’t you order just a normal glass then?” Aurora asked, not even trying to hold back her amused smile.

“Well, because - I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t catch your name.”

Joe had shuffled her stool closer to her now, resting a gloved hand on top of Aurora’s where it lay at the base of the Martini glass.

“Aurora.”

“Ah. As in Borealis.” Joe let out an exaggerated sigh, her eyes misting as if with memories. “A thing of glory. Illuminating the Arctic skies. Did you know that they can come as far south as here? Well, not Brighton,” she added with a wry smile, “but here in a broad sense.”

“I - no?”

“Well anyway, Aurora - I would order water in a plain tall glass, but I do like the martini glasses, gives it an air of splendour. Matches my style. After all, why would I want to shatter any illusions? No one here seems to want to have their illusions shattered, don’t you think?”

Joe gestured to the people around them, none of whom were looking at them, all in their own worlds with those around them, the chatter and the music threading between them all.

“It’s all an illusion, isn’t it? This space here, all these people, they’re all on their own stages. All their own performers. Even you!” Joe winked. “Life is a stage, we’re the actors.”

Aurora blinked in wonder, rendered speechless. But something about Joe still fascinated her. Aurora took another drag of the cosmo, her tongue loosening more and more.

“What’s your excuse then? Is this all an act too? Is Joe Black just an act?”

Joe just chuckled, the sound deep in her throat sounding a little sinister, and Aurora watched as finger by finger, Joe slid the opera glove off her left arm, revealing more tattoos than Aurora would have ever thought, all the way down her arm and onto her fingers.

“Maybe the patrons of the establishment wouldn’t care if they saw their cabaret act in tattoos, but the illusion that I’m a proper lady singing jazz atop a grand piano apparently needs to be an illusion in itself. Although the management didn’t say I couldn’t use my David Bowie dress, especially if it’s Bowie I’m singing.”

Joe was nudging the tips of Aurora’s fingers with the tips of her own, smiling through her eyelashes, her eyes full of mischief.

Aurora found herself slightly tongue-tied, but her voice came back to her eventually. “Did they hurt? The ones on your hand? I wanted to get one there, but my friend says they hurt a lot more than what they’re worth and they never stay too long.”

Stupid question, Aurora.

“They feel like having your hands dipped in warm honey, darling.”

Aurora frowned. “Really?”

“No, not really.” Joe cackled. “They all bloody hurt! But beauty is always pain.”

“Not always,” Aurora protested. “I’m not in pain.”

“Indeed,” Joe said softly, and Aurora felt her thumb slide into the palm of her hand. “Look me in the eyes and tell me those shoes aren’t killing you.”

Aurora met her eyes, triumphant. “My feet are fine. Thank you very much.”

“Really?” Aurora could feel Joe’s thumb on a tender spot in the centre of her palm, one that made the rest of her hand tingle. “I’m not convinced. Body language. These sorts of things give people away, you see, in a way that speaking will not. And really, the body language of everyone here?”

Joe’s eyes glittered, wicked and smug. Aurora was still acutely aware of the sensation of Joe’s thumb on her palm, responding by curling her fingers around Joe’s, and as she leaned closer, Aurora found herself frozen as Joe’s lips found her ear, her voice a slow whisper, sending another tingle down from her scalp down her spine, causing her to shudder.

“Everyone’s faking it, darling!”

And with that cackle, right at the back of her throat, Joe let Aurora’s hand go, drained the rest of the water from the Martini glass, and sauntered away from the bar, swinging her hips exaggeratedly, her laughter floating away behind her, but Aurora noticed that no one else turned to look at her.

It was almost as if she wasn’t even there. Aurora was left staring after her, shuddering again, her skin suddenly warm and tingly …

“A’Whora! Wakey wakey, eggs and bloody bakey!” Tayce was snapping her fingers under Aurora’s nose before Aurora noticed that she’d appeared, brows furrowed; and Tia behind her had tilted her head to one side.

“What’s bitten you, Aurora? You looked as if you’ve seen a ghost!”

Aurora blinked, her eyes darting between them both. “You - you saw her, right?”

“Who?” Tayce turned once to the direction Aurora looked, before whipping her head back to face her. “You feeling alright? How many did you have while you were waiting for us?”

“Shut up!” Aurora giggled, giving Tayce a gentle shove, which was reciprocated with a gleeful chuckle. “Where’s Lawrence?”

“Just went to the loo.” Tia pointed. “She’d better hurry up, she’s gonna miss the beginning!”

The lights were dimming. All eyes and all attention was turning to the stage, a hush developing around the bar and the room, as the sound of heels on the wooden stage drew nearer.

The crowd clapped politely as Joe Black came on, beaming down at them all, her smile wide and glorious. She paused to toss one of the victory rolls from her shoulder, before wrapping her fingers around the microphone stand and putting her lips millimetres from it.

“Good evening. I hope you are all having a wonderful time tonight. I am Joe Black, and this is my … microcosm of wonder.”

And even just the greeting, the low deep voice, was enough for tingles to spread down from the base of Aurora’s scalp once again.

“Is that the ghost you saw, Rory?” Tayce teased. “Because she doesn’t look like one from here!”

But before Aurora could say a word, the pianist hit the first note of Life On Mars, and the whole room was mesmerised by her. Not a soul spoke, not a whisper, just Joe commanding the stage, quiet but enrapturing at once.

Maybe not a ghost, but there was definitely something … otherworldly about her.

Aurora craved more.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #uk2 #joe black #a'whora #a'whora x joe #tia kofi #tayce #bar au #rare pair #song fic #fic challenge #juno

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lizzieraindrops · 3 years

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Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: Destiny (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eris Morn/Ikora Rey Characters: Eris Morn, Ikora Rey Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Hello destiny sapphics; allow me to introduce myself, Femslash, if nobody is going to write the content i want to see then i will create it myself, listen. it's about perceiving the weak and wounded places in someone you love, and lavishing love and care upon them even when they won't admit they need it, it's about the Mutual Support, it's about being kind to them even when you don't know how to be kind to yourself, Light Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, oh and ikora has the most Distinguished Bisexual energy i've ever seen so jot that down, it doesn't come up but you needed to know, this is all just a bunch of softness and tenderness don't @ me okay

Summary:

Five storms Eris and Ikora weathered and one they didn't need to.

The Shadowkeep weblore lives in my head rent free. Set post-Taken King and mostly during Shadowkeep.

“As I told Asher, there is a storm coming...” “Oryx is dead. We’ve weathered the storm.” Ikora is upset. She has yet to understand the bigger picture. “Yet his sisters would see his will done. There will always be another storm.” “Then let’s weather it together.” -Shadowkeep Narrative Preview #1

Many thanks to @hencegoodfortune for the beta read and of course for the memes.

Chapter: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | +1 |

Set just after The Taken King.

Eris knows she is not in the Hellmouth. Although the Tower has never felt the same since her ordeal on Luna, she recognizes it easily nonetheless. At every moment, the freshness of the open air reminds her that she is here, she is on Earth. She has been for some time now.

However, she has never forgotten how to move like a ribbon through the darkness, arcing undetected round predator and prey alike. She doubts that she ever will. Sometimes the habit returns of its own accord, and she’ll find her feet and hands floating weightless as she moves. Joints and muscle and sinew flex in careful concert to absorb every sound before it is made. The lines of lightly tensed limbs spiral seamlessly into the coiled core of her, tethering her in perfect silence. At the same time, she remains ever ready to fight, ready to flee. How often has Eris’ last, Lightless life lay along the knife’s edge of a split-second choice, the divergence between action and stillness, vengeance or survival?

Somehow, the smooth stone of the Tower’s level floors is harder to walk quietly on than the rough winding warrens through Luna’s porous rock. There are no edges to test with the edge of her boot, no uneven surface to ease her soles onto by swift and silent increments. There is only the unsubtle strike of heels on a flat, unforgiving surface. She makes the most of it, as every Hunter here does. Still, it leaves her uneasy. Her feet cannot quite keep to the ground.

Consequently, she often finds herself pacing, wandering from her post in the heart of the Tower whenever she grows restless. Every step falls lighter than the last, chasing silence in a meditation on weightlessness. It does not make her feel any better.

After so long underground, she is unaccustomed to the plenitude of open space here. While she has traced much of the Tower’s perimeters, the negative spaces in the centers of broad rooms and vaulted halls she leaves less frequented. She is too exposed there.

Yet maybe she is less affected by the empty space than the sheer number of souls that so often fill it. After so long so alone, they are simply so many, pressing at her survival-sharpened awareness from every angle. Not to mention she attracts too many of their stares in the crowded plazas. Although detection here is not followed by shrieking howls or the lightning strike of boomers, distrustful eyes still make her hunger for shelter. The choice to endure or to withdraw still needs to be be made. And whether well-meaning or ill-intentioned, a close approach still makes her instinctively recoil.

Eris has scraped out a place for herself here, lingering close enough to share with those who will listen the knowledge she has gained at a terrible price. But it has been made clear enough that she does not belong here anymore, not as she once did. If the condemnation of the Speaker and the only begrudging trust of the Vanguard’s Commander were not enough to tell her that, then the wary regard of most of the Tower’s populace would. So she holds herself back, toward the edges of things. It is difficult to do so at her station so near the Hall of Guardians, the greatest locus of Guardian activity on the planet. She draws herself to her full height and stands there proud, but never takes the ground she stands on for granted. When it becomes too much, like now, she paces.

This time, her pacing has led her to the edge of the Tower where her ship was once tethered. With how wary she has grown of exposed spaces, the open sky above that lays bare every courtyard and balcony should send her seeking cover - and yet, it does not. If anything, its incomprehensibly vast expanse calls to her. Strange.

Eris has traversed the spaces between planets with her own fragile body, with only a ship’s hull to keep the cold from swallowing what remains of her. Yet from Earth’s surface, a few mere miles of atmosphere transforms that emptiness, and its beauty holds her spellbound. It scatters sun into prismatic slices of light. The stars’ unblinking gaze softens into a flutter of eyelashes. No longer can she see the narrow spectrum of colors that humans evolved to discern; it has all faded into endless shades of the same hue. But the contrast of such brightnesses against the dark have become sharper than ever. Indeed, daylight has become a blaze to truly blind her. These stolen eyes of hers were made instead for depths and shadows.

Even so, she often finds herself staring out into the searing sky until her head aches. The sensations make her remember. She is no longer buried beneath stone, lost to this cosmos. She is free now, in some ways.

Eventually, her wanderings bring her back to the shaded refuge beneath the stairs just outside the Hall of Guardians. She is glad for this, too. Her station provides some small respite for her sensitive, ever-weeping eyes. And there she stays, until exhaustion drives her to rest, or else grief or fear or restlessness or her ever-smoldering rage drive her to pacing once again.

It’s true that many other eyes pass by that shadowed alcove of hers. Guardians constantly sweep in and out on either side of her, running and jumping and gliding up and down the stairs with urgent reports and important orders and burning questions for the Vanguard. They are so bright. Few of them spare a glance for her, these days, save for startled new Lights.

There are a few, though, who look upon her not with distrust or fear or begrudging tolerance, but with recognition. Once in a great while, cousin Asher will grace her with his inimitable company. It gladdens her heart, even when he merely stops to exchange research notes or brief insults. He cleaves to his research with a passionate vengeance, as does she. Unlike most, he pays more attention to her knowledge and her current work than her past. With the way he helped care for her in the months after her escape from Luna, she has come to hold him in close confidence.

On occasion, her friend the Guardian, who avenged her fireteam upon the very souls of Crota and Oryx, stops to greet her. Sometimes they bring her news from Luna or Mars. Words are few with that one lately, though. These days, their outgoing ghost is the one who relays whatever tidings they carry. The change leaves a cold shadow over Eris’ heart. Therefore, she values their quiet presence all the more. She fears for them.

Of course, Ikora’s is the kind regard she is subject to most often. Eris has never forgotten that Ikora believed her since the beginning. Most met her genuine warnings of inbound danger from the Hive with distrust, dismissal, or fear. Ikora not only listened, but met her with endless kindness. Even now, as the Warlock Vanguard steps into nearer chamber of the Hall for a brief consultation with Lord Shaxx, she spares a moment and a smile for Eris.

Ikora’s smile has always been warm and real and reassuring, a balm on the fibers of frayed nerves. Among the very few who welcomed Eris back to Earth, that smile was a signal of genuine care and safety that she homed in on immediately. The one directed at Eris now is subtle, a mere quirk of the lips. Yet it hints at the vast depths of passion and compassion below the surface, like a ripple that disappears swiftly on the surface of a deep, deep pool.

Ikora’s outward cool composure that obscures that intensity is not a façade. It is more an ingenius piece of architecture, a mighty aqueduct capable of holding and channelling the endless font of her inner immensities. It is an elegant and functional work of art well-kept and expanded over centuries.

The warmth that must be behind such a small yet genuine smile is palpable; it falls on Eris like the creeping warmth of sunlight, sinking in deep even though it scarcely touches her skin. Even the lower half of her face, where her many layers do not shield her from long-lost Sol, is still sallow and nearly as grayed as the dust of Luna. She hadn’t known at first, with the changes to her vision, not until Asher had told her. He never does shy away from the speaking of truth. In those endless years of darkness, the lack of light and loss of Light took something from Eris, sapped something vital, and left something strange in its place.

Yet Eris can feel the sun again, now. She can walk out into the courtyard at any time of day, find a south-facing wall to lean on, and bask in the radiating warmth like an ectothermic reptile.

Even without leaving the cool shadows of her post, another warmth still reaches her. Ikora offers her one more smile as she goes to return to her own station. Eris stands a little taller under the aegis of her regard, her spine the stem of a sunflower lifting her toward its steady kindness.

Eris takes not a single one of these boons for granted. Each one is a precious gift far beyond what she ever expected to experience again, after her descent into the Hellmouth. Yet none of it can quell her restlessness, for it springs from the same source as her gratefulness. It always comes back to what happened to her on Luna.

Each time she returns to her pacing, the Tower feels a little smaller. The scope of the sky distracts her for a shorter time. Now, even after her sworn vengeance upon the Hive has been fulfilled twice over in double deicide, the path of her vow still pulls her feet forward. She does not know where its shrouded course leads, only that there is still a threat yet to be met along it. More and more, she is certain that she cannot wait here to meet it, or it will be too late.

However, she never expected to leave behind wounds when she leaves. After she departs to sight the next storm on the horizon, she is haunted as often by the surprised hurt that she left in Ikora’s eyes as by the memory of her smile.

#eris morn #ikora rey #destiny 2 #eris/ikora #erikora #ikoris #destiny the game #destiny fanfiction #lizzie's adventures in writing #destinewt #long post #fic #HELLO I AM FINALLY HERE WITH THE FEMSLASH #apologies if i misled you with the o14 this is actually my usual abode #it's mostly written so look out for updates soon!#happy season drop have some sapphics #it's a beautiful day in a non-femslash-focused fandom and you are a terrible little lesbian here to cause problems on purpose #please talk to me about these ladies i love them so much #; ;

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candelapzz · 3 years

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... & covers for the rest of my short stories!

I believe that a second entry is necessary to share my thoughts on the book covers I made after and before writing my short stories. This is the third entry with an activity related to graphic design, nevertheless, I think that each one meant a challenge to some extent. As I pointed out in my last entry, I have written a total of 15 short stories and these are the covers I made! In a previous entry I thoroughly described how I made the first three covers but in this entry I'm going to talk about my thoughts and expectations too.

I already had done 4 of these, the first three and the cover that I created for the story “Locks and Keys” and I remembered that I had enjoyed creating “The Witch & The Vampire”´s cover a lot so I decided to continue with another of Sage's and Fang's “adventures”, story number 4, 6, 9 and 15. I had a clear idea in my mind: these covers had to be easy to relate with the first one in terms of style, letters and concepts, and so I created a couple of sketches pre-designing them. The palettes were probably the trickiest part in all of the above because I didn't know if it would be best to use complementary or the triad colours and so I tried a couple of palettes before the chosen ones. In all of them I drew symbols that were related to the short stories: a cowboy hat, snowmans, wolf claws, fairy wings and aster flowers.

I had expected that the process would take me longer than it actually took just like with the first one. This got me thinking and I realised a couple of things: having the idea already in mind was very helpful and practice makes perfect—as in, editing often makes the process easier and improves skills like knowing which colours/fonts will look best. Another thing I didn't expect was ending up liking the result as much as in the first story, but I did. I can't pick up a favourite because the covers from “The Ghost & The Snowman” and “The Werewolf & The Curse” are tied with the first one.

As I had chosen an illustrated based process with the four covers above, I decided to go for image based covers, which highlight the background and titles. Creating these covers was simpler as it usually happens with this kind of covers, however, I admit that I always spend more time searching for suitable photos, images that tell what I want to express to some extent, than with the rest of the process. I used Unsplash images, which have common creative licence and decorative and typography fonts that make the covers look elegant.

For the following ones I chose an ice cream cart and an airport, elements closely related to the plots of the stories. The process wasn't complicated, but I struggled figuring out how I wanted this book cover to look because I had not edited with pictures for a long time. In “Imagine” I manipulated the photo creating a mirror effect with the war planes which are related to the story itself. Of course I had to smoothen certain areas of the photographs, but it wasn't very difficult; the monochromatic theme was helpful in this case, because working in shades of grey is easier than editing with shades of any other colour. Although I like the result of these covers, I admit that my favourites are the ones I drew, which can be influenced by the fact that I loved writing these stories the most.

[Week of the 10/10/2021]

#creativity #lo2 #lo4 #graphic design #book cover design #illustration #lettering #book cover

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baekberrie · 4 years

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🌩n o i r - bbh🌩

🌩 Genre: Angst, romance, teacher x student Au

🌩Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

🌩Warnings: no self-acceptance, jealousy

Her face lightened up at the sight of the test being handed on her desk, eyes shining like thousands of diamonds, cheeks tinted in a glittering red reached her eyes as she held up the paper with the impeccable result, a proud A+ impregnated in the white sheet of paper. You could only curve your lips into the most genuine smile you could muster while sending an encouraging nod in her way. Fingers closed around your heart, squeezing it where it'd hurt the most because you knew, that even if you hadn't spoken a single word, you had lied to your best friend. The genuine smile that hadn't reached your eyes, could she see through it? While the other girls complimented her, you could only glance down at the test on your desk, you had turned it around so that no one would've been able to see the result written on it. Not even your friends.

The teacher had written an encouraging 'Keep up the good work!' next to the strong C in the corner of your test, but it seemed as if the letter was laughing straight at your face. It felt ridiculous, that had been a perfectly good grade, a result that encouraged you to give even more the next time, one that showed you that you had the potential to be something even better. But... It wasn't enough, not at all. Not when you had given your all on this test, not when you had told yourself that you'd ace this test with a 100%, not when your best friend had achieved what you hadn't been able to.

"What did you get?" Your friend's voice suddenly shattered your train of thoughts, her curious cat-like gaze bored immediately into your soul, a bright smile curved on her lips- she was delighted and proud of herself, you could almost imagine the swelling feeling of your heart and the yearning to tell your parents about the success, but it disappeared as quickly as it came, overpowered by something unfamiliar, something overwhelming that you couldn't name, but you hated it. It was bitter and it felt as if your heart, your mind, was covered by a black veil that fogged your view.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you feigned another smile, "Secret," you chuckled, feeling slightly embarassed of the result you had achieved, it would just look funny next to her A, wouldn't it? There was no way you could show her. She pouted in disappointment but didn't insist.

Of course, she had to get an A, you thought, like always, just so perfect and good in everything she does, it irks me. I hate it.

Trembling took over your body as you held up the test to the teacher, disgusted and disbelieved in your own self. The adult male didn't miss the painful expression that you hadn't been able to mask. Your gaze snapped up to his when he grabbed the paper, but not actually taking it, just letting the gentle warmth of his fingertips graze your shivering skin. Mr. Byun who you'd til this day always felt drawn to, Mr. Byun who you'd always gaze at with enamored eyes, Mr.Byun with the low and calming voice- with the heartbreaking smile, Byun Baekhyun that you had secretly fallen in love with. Today, you couldn't hold his gaze for more than three seconds before diverting them again, a feeling of shame and guilt pooling within your chest until it's limit, it was too much and you feared that it might overflow, you couldn't bear it on your own. You just wished he wouldn't catch on the layer of water gathering on your irises, ready to cascade down your face.

Although his worried orbs searched for yours, there was no way you could let him see- let him see what you had thought, even if just for a second. He couldn't find out about the somber strings of negativity entangled from every angle of your body, tightening around the font of your feelings. Baekhyun would eventually find out about the horrible person you were- that you envied your friend because she was better than you in everything, that you had absolutely no talent- no capabilities, that you weren't enough, ever.

Teeth drilled into your lower lip as you tried your best to gulp away the thick tears, a metallic taste spread on your tongue as you wished for nothing but to disappear.

"Alright good job everyone, you all did very well on the test, I'm proud. You're dismissed." Mr. Byun announced while adjusting all the tests neatly on his desk, his thin spectacles placed low on the bridge of his nose and eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he glanced down on the papers. Shouldering your backpack, you made yourself ready to leave.

"Miss Y/n," The honey-like voice that you found yourself craving to hear in your sleepless nights, it called you, and you could only stop in your tracks with fear and nervousness. You couldn't tell whether your heart was picking up its rate, was it because you were going to spend some time alone with him?- or because he was wanted to scold you about something? Perhaps your grades. "I'd like a moment with you please," He continued, not giving away any of his real intentions, and intrigued, you watched when he removed the glasses from his face, folded them neatly and soundlessly placed them on his desk.

As soon as the classroom had emptied, he proceeded to close the door, on his way back to his desk was when he loosened the black-tie from around his neck, popping a few buttons of his shirt- giving you the chance to witness a few inches of his milky skin as he sat down on the edge of the table. Even in your darkest times, he could make you wander to such thoughts and you couldn't decide whether he was dangerous or perhaps just a very beautiful dream, an escape.

"Come," He said, and for a few moments you felt as if your feet had been glued onto the floor, but eventually you moved- and walked to where he was sitting. There wasn't anything stern or raging in his eyes and you could only internally sigh with relief.

"Is everything alright?" Oh no, you could handle worried stares, but when people straight out asked you that question, there was no way tears wouldn't well in your eyes because obviously, it was so not okay. Not at all, nothing was okay, not you, not your belief in yourself, you were just a mass of shattered glass, and you started to think that not even his healing voice could fix you this time. "You seemed very upset, do you want to talk about it?" No. But-

It was too late when a sob escaped your lips, one sob and countless tears, now that it had begun, you couldn't control it, and you hated it that he had to see you like this, this weak, this embarrassing. Hands flew immediately to your face, letting your hair cover your condition like a curtain. But no matter how much you covered yourself, there was nothing that could stifle the evidence of your sorrow.

Even though your tears, a shiver covered your spine when you felt the soft hand from before resting on the small of your back, pushing you ever so gently closer to him, you didn't stop him. You didn't stop him when his arm came around your shoulders, letting you come in contact with his strong yet incredibly soft chest as his hand rested close to your collarbone and his head leaned in close to your neck, lips brushing lightly over your ear when he once again whispered; "What's wrong?"

It was hard speaking through your strong sobs, but when Baekhyun's hand slid from your shoulder down to your back and stroke soft circles of heat with his thumb you magically found yourself calming down. You didn't know how he did that, how he with his sole presence could purify your darkened heart.

"I- I will never be enough," You cried, hand fisting a handful of his white, expensive button-up, but he couldn't care less about the wrinkles forming on it as he finally closed both of his arms around your frame, letting you petite body press completely against his.

"Hey," He soothed, "What is this about? " His cheek pressed affectionately against yours, his lips caressing your skin with a touch feather-light and you had no idea if it was safe for him to hold you this close to him in his own classroom, if it was safe for you to give away all of your heart to him right now, to let him hear your throbbing heartbeat, to let him see your weaknesses. But his comforting scent felt like home and in this moment where you felt lost in the darkness you didn't know resided within you- he was the only source of light that you were willing to follow.

"Whatever I do will never be enough, I will never be the best I can be, I just hate everything about myself at the moment. I'm a horrible person, I- I felt envy towards the people I love- I-"

"Y/n," He demanded softly, the sound of his voice vibrated soothingly from his chest as he spoke.

"Don't compete with others, there's no point in doing that. Every student has his own fortes and struggles, you are no different. There are certain things in which you can't succeed at once, you have to fight your way up there." Biting your lips, more tears welled inside of your eyes- not because of sorrow, but because his words hit home, just like the rest of his being did.

"Don't hate yourself for not reaching your goal just yet, don't give up on yourself like that, you have potential, you are amazing and as your teacher, I know you can get there if only you befriended yourself instead of fighting with yourself. You are you, you don't need to look at others, okay?" He said, two fingers lifting your chin so that you could meet his strong gaze filled with sincerity and determination. "Whichever your goal is, you don't have to reach it alone, you don't have to rely on those who make you feel pressured, you can come to me and we'll figure it out. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Your voice trembled but was by now definitely stable enough to form sentences.

"Sometimes, we're bound to feel envious, but it's only in our nature, it won't make you a bad person, you just want to do your best, I know how you feel, but sometimes, we have to be stronger than the envy and force ourselves to ignore those thoughts." Baekhyun was taking in every detail of your face as he let his heart speak, fingers gently combing through your hair and gently curling stray hair behind your ear, you only nodded.

" You're a good girl." He cooed, leaning in to place his lips close to yours, landing on the corner of your mouth, lingering there while all you could do was close your eyes and succumb to the softness of his texture against yours, feeling eager to lock your lips with his- but knowing it's yet too soon for that. When he moved his lips to close them shortly on every inch of yours, leaving pure pecks that wouldn't lead to something more, nothing more but the proof that loved him, and now you knew he did too. And perhaps one day, you'd be comforted by the gift of a breathtaking kiss, like the ones you'd dreamed of.

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

I don't know about you guys, but these days, I am this person and I'm trying to fix it.

it kinda sucks, might delete later.

#baekhyun angst #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x reader angst #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun x reader fluff #baekhyun one shot #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun drabble #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun #exo #exo baekhyu #byun baekhyun #bbh

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hiddenleafstoryteller · 4 years

Text

We Were Only Seventeen Pt. 1 - Kakashi Hatake Imagine-

TLDR; The story is told from the point of view of a much older reader, recollecting her youth. In the past, the reader and Kakashi have fallen fast in love, a summer spent side by side, but as fall creeps upon them, with winters chill close behind, a choice changes their lives forever.

A//N: My timeline may be off but for reference, Kakashi is currently in the ANBU.

A song to listen to while reading; The Bride & The Bachelor by Magnolian

I’ll post part two, depending on how well this one does.

————————-

“Was Grandfather your first love?” Emika, the middle grandchild, asked from across the room. Your grandchildren had come on their weekly visit and were spread out across your sitting room, pictures and diaries scattered around. All of your memories fallen upon the blue rug that had been your mothers.

It takes you a moment to look up from your stitching, and when your eyes met a younger version of yours, you smile. Emika has been the only one to get your eyes, her brothers and sister bore those of their father.

“Was Grandfather my first love?” You repeat softly as the sea of memories begins to wash away the sand that covered your buried treasures.

You put away your stitching, and then pat your lap gently, “C’mon over here, I think it’s time I tell you a story.”

“Daichi! Kai! Iricho! Gramma’s got a story!” She calls out to the rest of the house, as she climbs into your lap the pitter patter of footsteps quickly raced towards where you sat.

Kai, the second oldest, sat with her legs crossed in front of her with Daichi, on her lap. He was just barely three and enjoyed following his big sister around. Iricho hung back, leaning against the doorframe. At fourteen, he considered himself ‘to old’ for a story from his grandmother but, he always stayed in the room until she said “the end.”

“Oh now, let me see,” [Y/N] pauses and touch her lips as her eighty-one (no, eighty-two) year old brain explores the lifetime she carried with her. “This would have been oh, about sixty-five years ago?”

She rocks slowly in her chair, quietly beginning to hum herself.

“It was the spring I turned seventeen, the cherry trees had just begun to blossom, much like your grandmother here.” She chuckles softly, “I was, how do you young people say it? ‘Quite the catch?’”

Out of the corner of her eye she sees a silent laugh leave Iricho’s lips.

As the story pours from her lips, like water onto newly planted seeds, she finds herself falling back in time. A time where her knees didn’t ache, her hair did not match the snow & when her memories where always hers, not often on adventures away from her.

“All those books [Y/N], perhaps you should consider some human friends?” Your mother’s voice calls from below the cherry tree that had been your hideout since the day you had learned to climb it.

“I have plenty of human friends mother, which is why I prefer to read.” [Y/N] calls down and turns the page of the latest novel she had picked up from the bookstore.

“You could at least come down and help me fold the wash.” Her reply is more of a command and [Y/N] quickly climbs down from the tree, landing next to her mother.

“What’s this one about?” Mother asks, nodding to the book as she hands [Y/N] some shirts to fold.

“Finding true love, adventures, romance.” [Y/N] say briefly and she laughs, “Finding true love? And what does a seventeen year old Chunin know about love?” She teases her daughter and laughs when she sees her face flush.

“Mama!” [Y/N] looks down at the clothes in front of her, not being able to make eye contact with her mother.

Her mother giggles and looks at her daughter, no longer short and narrow but instead blossoming into a young woman, similar to how the cherry tree blossoms. Her beauty had begun to show, but the true fruit was hidden amongst the facade. Only to be shown to those patient enough to wait for the flower to decide when it was ready. “Have any of the village boys caught your eye?” She asks and [Y/N] shakes her head with a laugh.

.“You clearly haven’t met any of the village boys my age Mama.” [Y/N] retorts as she drifts off into a daydream.

When she finishes folding the laundry, she tells her mother she is going into town.

“The bookkeeper may have a new book for me!” She calls out as she walks towards the center of the village. As she walks, she continues reading, her nose dipped down into the words of her story.

Time passes quickly and she soon finds herself in the bookshop, quietly browsing the shelves. She decides to wander to the far back, to the adult novels, and she begins to search for her next favorite book. She chooses one at random and sits down in a large chair, beginning to devour every sentence.

She didn’t even notice the other person sitting directly behind her, also trapped in a work of fiction. As time ticked by, [Y/N] became more and more entrapped in the plot of her novel.

“We’re closing soon [Y/N], you might as well pack up! You can let yourself out as you always do.” The bookkeeper called and [Y/N] reassured him that she would leave as soon as she finished reading. She stands up, and goes to place her old book on the shelf, deciding this new one was going to come home with her. As she turned to leave, she bumps shoulders with the boy she hadn’t noticed.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” She says as both of their books fall to the floor. They both stoop down to grab them at the same time and [Y/N] finally gets a good look at the stranger, or of what she could see of him.

Most of his face was obscured by a mask, his forehead protector tilted to hide one of his eyes. What a strange, strange boy.

Without a word, he nods at her and walks out of the shop. She shrugs and turns to do the same, looking down at her book only to notice the title was written in green font, not yellow.

“Oh no!” She groans and races out into the night, “Hey mister! You grabbed the wrong book!” She calls out to the direction he had headed in but he was already out of eyesight.

“Damnit! Now I’ll never know how it ends, that was the only copy!” [Y/N] whines as she begins to head home. She glances down at the book the strange boy had been reading, she flipped through a few pages and found herself blushing.

“Oh, this is vulgar.” She mumbles, making a mental note to hide it very well from her mother.

When she gets home, she finds her house quiet. Maybe her parents had gone out for the night. She climbs up the stairs and when she opens the door to her room, she sees a piece of paper tacked to her bedpost. She grabs it and slowly reads;

“Lets trade back, I need to know the ending of my book. Meet me at the cherry tree when you get this.”

The note was signed with a simple ‘K’ and [Y/N] feels her heart race. This was just like one of her novels, but was he friend or foe?

She wouldn’t find out by just standing here. She makes sure she is well prepared, three kunai nestled in holders on each hip, before she steals away into the night headed to her beloved cherry tree.

When she arrives, she sees no sign of anyone else but her. She closes her eyes and clicks her tongue softly and felt the sound waves flow around her. Her clan had been gifted with the ability of echolocation, something she had perfected at a young age. When the waves pinged off an unidentifiable shape in the tree top, she knows it’s him.

She quickly climbs up and finds the masked boy sitting with his legs crossed, deeply involved in her book.

“Um, hello.” She calls out softly and he holds up a finger to signal he needed a minute. She watches his one eye scroll the page until he finally closes the book.

“It actually isn’t as bad as I presumed it would be.” He says matter-of-factly as he stands up and walks towards [Y/N].

“I hear a trade is in order.” [Y/N] says standing near him, he towers over her by a good foot at least, “Although, I can’t understand why you would want to read something so vulgar.”

The stranger laughs and peers into her eyes before saying, “And I can’t understand why you’d want to read this cheesy romance novels.”

[Y/N] rolls her eyes, and goes to grab her book from his hands but he is much quicker than she expected.

“Oh c’mon, I would like my book please.” [Y/N] says growing frustrated, and she swears she sees a sly smile under his mask.

“On two conditions: one) You tell me your name and two) you stay here and read it to me. Till the very last page, even if it takes the entire summer.” He muses and [Y/N] sighs.

“My name is [Y/N], of the Saito clan. Who are you?” She says and he hands her the book, he looks away when she asks.

“You can just call me Kakashi.” He replies and [Y/N] sits on the tree branch.

“Well Kakashi, lets get to reading them.” She begins to tell him the story, he slowly sits with her and by the time she has finished the first chapter she finds herself enjoying the quiet, reading to him.

“I enjoy your voice.” He says, interrupting her. [Y/N] blushes and looks away.

“Will you meet me here tomorrow night? After the sun is down?” He asks and [Y/N] nods as she slips away home as the sun began to rise.

Read pt.2 Here

#kakashi hatake #kakashi #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi hatake fanfiction #naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto universe #naruto imagine

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dearoldtuxedo · 4 years

Text

Wet Dream

OOC: So, this inspiration came to me by a little grayface. Mostly because I was in a huge mood for furry smut anyways. NSFW under the cut. Italic font for (Dream) Drooper’s dialogue.

Here we are, in the privacy of my own bedroom, smooching up a slobbery storm with my lovely kitten, on the heart shaped bed. That's right. Who else than yours truly, Tux The Tuxedo, and Drooper of The Banana Splits? As I was sayin', we were smooching up a slobbery storm. My arms wrapped around his torso, with his legs around my waist. The kissed we shared was a little more messier than our usual make out sessions. Saliva was flying and dripping down. Our tongues were wrestling, and sometimes they'd tie into knots.

While we still continued to French each other, one of my hands reached down to lift up Drooper's tail, and the other gave that lion tush a good hard spank! Drooper stopped kissing to let out a yelp, followed by a light moan.

"Uhh- baby." "You like that, don't you?"

I continued to spank him around, but not hard enough. No, I gotta save my real strength for the best part to come. I spanked him, and spanked him, and spanked him. I spoke vulgarly, in a raspy tone, over his moans.

"You may be king of the beasts, but I'm king of the sheets. When I'm through with you, babe, you won't be able to walk for a month. You're gonna have to ask me to carry you places instead. Every time you try to sit down, you'll be thinking of me." "Tux, enough of the teasin' already! Mah body can't take anymore of this! Just please, sock it to me! Now!" "Oh, such an impatient kitten you are. But whatever you say."

I untied kitten's legs from around my waist, then set him down in front of me on his knees. With my razor sharp claws, I teared off my entire tuxedo in only a second. Despite Drooper's squinty eyes, I could tell he was bedazzled, either by my performance or my muscular built. Whichever it was, it sure made his erection grow. Speaking of which, he looked at mine; That big, thick, furless member with the two bells at the end. Kitten got close, and took it into his hands, also observing its beauty while gently stroking it. Then he said,

"My, my. Darlin', you as hard as steel. But, don't worry. Let ol' Drooper tenderize that meat for ya."

Without hesitation, he took my member into his mouth, and sucked away. Uhhhhhhhh, it felt so good. He was slurping that thing like he hasn't had a bite in a week. He- Ahhhhh, man, I could feel him deepthroat it. He moved in closer to get more of that delicious Tux-junior into his mouth, and the only way to do that was by swallowing it. I gripped his mane tightly as I moaned.

"Ohhhhhh, baby. Yeah, you got it. Right there. That's a good kitten. Uhhh-"

Fffffffffffuuuuuudge! That feels good! He's like a vampire! ...or a vacuum. It will only be a matter of time before he sucks me dry. Darn, I could feel myself starting to leak! I'm- Wait a minute. I don't plan on emptying myself in his stomach! At least not through that end. I separated him out of my mouth, and placed him upon my lap.

"Why'd you stop me?" "Because, kitten, the real fun is about to begin. In three..."

I parted his right leg.

"two..."

I licked at my fingers to lube them up.

"one."

There, I inserted my middle finger into his tight hole.

"OH! Tux, baby...!"

He seemed to like that. I added another finger in him. Would've inserted more, but two was my limit. And with my claws, it probably doubled the pleasure. I moved them in and out of his rectum, as he moaned in amusement.

"Mmmmm, honey, yeah, that feels niiiiiiiiice. Uhhhhhh, uhh, yes!"

He wrapped his arms around my neck as my digits penetrated him. Hehehe, I could feel my fingers get soaked in his juices. They were moist enough to move in further.

"Darlin', MMMMMmmmmm, please give me more!"��

More?

"More, darlin'! I didn't come over here just for yer fingers! Let me feel you! All of you!"

All of me, huh? I withdrew my fingers, then put him onto the bed, laying him on his back. He smiled a wide grin, watching me spread his legs far apart. Then, I slammed myself inside of him.

"OHHHHHHH-"

I thrusted my member into that tight little hole of his, moving at a steady pace, but grinding at a force so hard. The impact of my strength caused the bed to rock back and forth. The feel of my member squeezed between his rectum, such a sensation to behold. He's so warm. I never wanna leave from him. With each erotic moan, I pushed myself in deeper. I grasped firmly onto his hips, and let my claws sink into his flesh. My face lowered down to his so that we'd touch noses.

"OHHHHHHohohhhhhh, GOODNESS! YES! UHHHHHH, UH... Oh Tux, yes!" “So, that feels good, kitten?" "Yessss! yessssss! Aww gosh, darlin'!" "Is that 'balls-deep' or what?" "UH-" "Take it all in, babe. Let me loosen that tight little cave of yours." "OHHHHH, DARRRRLIN'!"

The room was accompanied by three sounds: The rocking of the bed, the squishy padding noises, and Drooper's moans of rapture.

"Mmmmmmmm, harder darlin'!" "Harder? You want harder, kitten?" “UHHHHHHHH, YES! Harder, darlin'! HAR-DER!" "Beg the snow leopard! Beg him to tear that tunnel of love!" "AHHHH, PLEASE SCREW ME IN HARDER, DARLIN'! Oh yeah, LET ME HAVE IT!" "Harder?" "HARDER!!!"

I released my full strength, and pounded hard enough to send kitten screaming to the heavens, and his tail began to curl up. The bed eventually broke down, but that didn't stop me. I wasn't gonna stop until I reached that climax. Speaking of which...

"OH, TUX! Darlin'! That feels nice! Feels so good!" "I'm almost there, kitten!" "Yes, yes, yes, YESSSSS, UHHHHHHHHH!" "Gonna fill you up with that sweet, magical love juice!" "TUX, YES-" "FILL YOU UP WITH SO MUCH OF IT!"

But, just as I finally reached that orgy, an explosion occurred.

I shot up awake, heavily breathing. My body was hot all over, I was drenched in my own sweat, and I felt something sticky down in my pants. Boy, that was some dream. This was all that potty mouthed stranger's fault. They officially made this cat feel like a horn dog.

That dream was very intense. Too intense for me to handle. Also, very real, although I wasn't myself in that dream. No, this Tux was more crude and dominant, who treated dear Drooper like an object. Those type of men are what we like to call 'jerks.' I would never wanna generalize poor kitten like that, and to the extent of hurting him for my own entertainment, although he seemed to enjoy it. Well, at least Jerk Tux didn't swear once. I'll give him credit for that.

Drooper wasn't himself either. I know my kitten too well to be sure that he isn't THAT confident. He has always been bashful towards my romantic passings, even when we're alone together.

Back to the dream, I don't think I'm ready to face Drooper again tomorrow. I mean, I want to make love, but I'm also very nervous too. I've been a virgin for many, many decades, and I promised to give myself to the guy I can call "the one." Drooper is definitely "the one" for me, and my heart knows it. He's my Lovin' End. But still, it's been so long. What if I screw (no pun intended) the whole experience up, and end up hurting him badly? What if he's not into that type of intimacy? I would be fine, but my hormones will riot! What if he does want it, but I end up regretting it.

Phooey. I don't think I'll be going back to sleep any time soon. I buried myself under the sheets, and started to lightly gnaw on my own tail. It's the perfect substitution for sucking your thumb.

#The one who turned a banana cherry red [Tux]#Dear sweet kitten [Drooper]#Lover cats [Tux and Drooper]#Banana ‘n cream pie [NSFW]

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emilyymarolda-blog · 4 years

Text

The Perfect Day.

She wakes up, smudged mascara on her lower lash line from the night before. Not enough to make her look like she has two black eyes from a losing intervention with being forced to wake up, but just enough to prove that her neutrogena wipes didn’t get the job done. Her sheer white curtains, not long enough to touch the ground, but just long enough to reach her face when wind dances through them did just that. After rolling over and dozing off for a couple more 7 minute trials, she finds the ability from the tips of her toes to drag herself to an upright position. “Stretching in the morning is healthy”, they say. “Eating a healthy breakfast is the most important part of your day”, “do not go on your phone in the morning. It’s bad for your eyes”. All of these thoughts are drilled into her mind through magazines labeled “women’s health” , blog posts on “how to kick off your morning positively”, or just marble backgrounds and sans serif font on a 15 year old girl’s Instagram post on her explore page, but that doesn’t stop her from toasting the two heels of the loaf of bread, lathering them up with butter like theres no tomorrow, and checking to see if he’s messaged her yet. He hasn’t. She has nothing to worry about, though. She is just an early bird. As she finishes her utter most unhealthy breakfast, contradicting the publication that simultaneously sits on her birch wood coffee table, she stumbles to the bathroom. Her tile floor cold and hair in a loose braid. She’s still not functioning yet, though, as her caffeine intake has been stunted because of a forgetful mother who hasn’t bought coffee filters yet this week. She looks herself in the mirror, not in disgust, but searching for an ounce of satisfaction like it is water in the Sahara, just so she can feel comfortable during the face to face interaction at the Dunkin’ Donuts drive thru window. Its not until she passes her black mailbox and is halfway pulled into her driveway that she gets a call from him. He suggests a day out? or a couple of hours spent at their favorite spot? but she declines, substituting his offers with a day spent at home painting with a constant refill of warm, but not hot, sweet, but not saccharine, hazelnut coffee. She can tell by his tone on the phone that he was just as happy with that as he would be any other day. On his way over, he pulls into the one and only store in between their cross town homes and grabs the cheapest coffee filters he could find. As he is on his way back to his “stuck shift”, as she would call it, in relation to the shifter that would stick every time you went to shift it, Dodge Dart, he realizes he forgets the hazelnut creamer. On his second round through the line of a cashier named Heather, his love for her really becomes apparent. He loved days like these. Lazily laying around in the back room of her white, two family home, watching her paint skylines and starry nights of all different variations. When he got there, that is exactly what he did. As Clairo and Mac Demarco play softly in the background, she admires her work, and he admires her for hours. Every so often, she’d stand up, do that arm stretch thing she does, and kiss him lightly. Only pulling away to smile and look at his freckles, almost as if she was making sure they were in the same place as they were 20 minutes before. around 3pm, he decides that it would be silly if he stayed any longer, as he has a harsh yet demanding reality to fall back into. This may sound cliche, but looking at her do what she loved was his bliss. His savior. Although they were only 17, he felt such a love for her that most adults still search to find in the person they’ve settled down and started families with. She too was engulfed into the flames that were him. His very presence made her feel so much happiness that she grew flowers from her pores. Her favorite songs became better, simply put. Although most couples their age were worried about partying and social satisfaction, they were two old souls who planned since day one to grow old together, and who loved the “Sunday morning” kind of love that they had. As she watches him pull out of her driveway and off her dead end street, she makes her way to the kitchen and sits across from her mother at the kitchen table. “You glow now”, her mother says. Three words that she never thought would matter so much. Three words that do the best job at describing what she’s been through after the outcome of her last relationship, and the impact that the entrance of this boy into her life has done to her. “Now that he’s here, you’re always so smiley and shit. Its kind of weird, but I love to see it”. She’s never had a close relationship with her mother. She likes fire, her mother likes ice. She likes slow, her mother likes fast. Two women on opposite sides of the spectrum but who fit so well together. She is willing to overlook the nights she spent sobbing in her room alone, knowing her mother could hear, yet chose to ignore, her almost aggressive exhales from down the hall just for those three words. She just smiles and struts her way back into the back room and continues to paint for a couple more hours. 6 velvet sunsets and 4 constellations later, she gets up. She walks with hesitation as a result of her stiff legs and back from sitting on a wooden stool all day, but makes it back to her room, and dives into a deep sleep. For her, a perfect day was a day like this. Not the ones started out with stretching. Not the ones with healthy breakfasts and prohibited screen time, but the days she spends with him doing the thing she loves.

#short story #love #the perfect day #love story #simple love

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sugar-petals · 5 years

Text

the scaffolding (m)

⌞ Jungkook paints your house. He blocks the panoramic view. You take no issue with that.

September. The first week. The weather is stable since Thursday, a lot of tourists are in town. Your phone won’t stay silent either. Clients, clients, clients. There’s not a single unhurried day in your house. You tell yourself to stay focused.

Because nature still inspires best, the windows to the first floor home office enable you to glance across an ample panorama. A lake, mountains in the distance, meadows, some occasional mist in the mornings although the sun does come out later quite a lot.

A very rural outlook, mature. And yet, it’s been boring you as of lately. You need some aesthetic change in your life. But since you can’t roll your desk to the other side of the house — where the windows aren’t as large anyways — and can’t really move the mountains aside either, you dare an experiment. A designer thinks in counterintuitive terms. What if you change something about what you project outward to the landscape instead of altering the landscape itself? The idea is to hire someone who will paint your house in an interesting color.

The legal framework is loose enough for you to go with a very deep cobalt blue type of shade. Friendly and upbeat Kim Seokjin from the local painter’s bureau, Kim Constructions, invites you for discussing the details and going through color books. The resulting sum is quite hefty since your house is moderately large with rather complicated architecture to climb around, but everyone at the bureau is very helpful. September is the perfect time of the year. Seokjin arrives two days later to inspect the building from the outside, taking notes, then asks a few questions about the history of the house, looks around again, and vanishes as silently as he arrived. When you glance out of the window seven days after, there’s already a scaffolding in place. Deckings, ties, braces, and transoms everywhere. While you’re busy editing flyers for the upcoming winter festival, there’s plenty of hammering, van maneuvering, and more loud motion outside.

While you did want something new to quench the boredom, now you believe it backfired in the worst of ways since painting sure will take a while. Instead of feeling inspired, all you are is distracted. You do ponder moving your tablets, the laptops, the screen, and the other paraphernalia for the time being. But yet, another client rings through and asks whether you can meet the deadline for the wedding cards. You say yes, they’re almost done, you print them in two days, goodbye, you’ve asked for the fifth time. Moving the office won’t get rid of the nervous wreck type of callers either, no amount of reassurance ever helps. it’s starting to rub off on you, in fact. So you plug your headphones in and distract yourself from the distraction outside, and have a reason to ignore the phone blowing up every twenty minutes. Anything of importance would come via email anyways.

You drag fonts around the screen and adjust colors when a shadow steps in between you and the 11 AM sun outside. It startles you to the point of almost falling off your chair. It’s a brunette guy in a red tank top, bib, moderately tall, carrying a full bucket of paint toward the right side of the scaffolding. Judging by how he balances along the scene and then disappears, the guy didn’t notice you. The flyers aren’t so important anymore. You put down your headphones and try to glance across the room, toward the corner of the window where he went out of sight but not out of mind. And he does come back a minute later, without the bucket. This time, the guy gazes into your direction. He looks surprised. A feeble greeting hand, a bow, you bow back, then nod. Expressionless staring. He gestures around with a paint roller in his left hand. Then he moves on. You’re quite puzzled. He seems to be the worker, and you know that there are about three of them, that’s responsible for your side of the house where the office is.

It’s hard dragging fonts again, and the music stays off. Another anxious client’s call is quite convenient to make it look like you’re all professional and busy when the guy returns peeking across the scaffold on a ladder with a mixing laddle, and fumbling around with a trim guide. You don’t want to disturb the workers. At the same time, you want to look at him. The client, Mister Park, keeps on babbling about how he needs his fancy bright website banners by the end of the month, that his revenue depends on it, and only calms down once you send him a screenshot about how much you’re already advanced.

In the meantime, the brunette guy is gone again. Seokjin is on the scaffold now, but you can only see his arms stirring paint. The flyers are half done by the end of the hour, your tea cup is empty, and you figure it’s time to go to the kitchen to get yourself another drink. Hungry you are not yet, but already play with the thought of throwing some noodles in the Wok later for lunch at 1 PM, with some leftovers and a spicy sauce. Once the tea bag blurs out the hot water in your mug into a deep fruity strawberry red, you pace around the house, smartphone switched on, going through your social media. Nothing of real importance. A few likes on there, a comment here. More emails waiting. You end up strolling to the balcony —

And walk in on the guy, back turned to you. Pulling off his tank top standing on the first floor scaffold, and tossing it down to land on the hood of the Kim Constructions van. Your sharp exhale makes him flinch and turn around within the blink of an eye. His voice, high-pitched, cracks in a matter of seconds.

“I’m, I’m sorry! Thought you were workin’ on the other side!”

He covers his chest with both arms crossed before it.

Don’t look at his body. Don’t look at his body. He’s not comfortable with it.

You’re startled for a solid moment, too. Frozen.

“I, uh, made some tea,” you shove the mug toward his direction, eye to eye, desperate not to trail off below. “It’s very cold in September. I mean, out here.”

“Yes, it’s cold,” the guy says, pretty much sweating, but he takes the cup anyways, further disclosing his torso. You keep your head up stiff.

Don’t look at his body. Just a painter doing his job. Relax. You gave him a drink, that’s all.

“Really sorry, I hope the tea is okay.”

“Thank you, Miss Y/L/N, you didn’t have to do that. And I’m just a klutz, just walkin’ around like this. I hope I don’t cause an inconvenience. That’s too kind, you really didn’t have to prepare tea.”

You shake your head with too much vehemence for it to be normal. The guy starts sipping from the cup and almost burns his lips, but tries to play it off immediately by nodding at you more then necessary.

“I just saw you’re working hard, and Seokjin, I think, he can have a cup, too? There’s someone else, too, your co-workers—”

“Namjoon. But I think he’s allergic. Yeah. All sorts of allergies.”

“Oh, allergic. Sorry for that. And you are?”

“JK. Jungkook, um. Seokjin is always callin’ me JK. And Kookie, he thinks I look like one.”

“Yeah, I guess. I’m not allergic to cookies.”

“Me neither!”

Someone shouts from the other side of the house. Jungkook looks around.

“Uh, I gotta go. See you, Miss! I mean, if you want! I let that cup cool here, I pick it up in a minute.”

And he sprints around the corner. The scaffolding still vibrates after he’s gone and you hear a discussion from the East side of the house. You click the balcony door shut and sink down in the living room on the carpet. What on earth does he make you say. What on earth did he say. This JK guy. Allergic to kookies. Allergic to tea. What on earth. At least you managed to get a conversation together instead of awkward silence. So, Jungkook is his name. Seokjin thinks he looks like a cookie. But Jungkook is not allergic to that. And it’s icy cold in September, of course, especially when he walks around without his tank top. All that staring at screens has been making you dizzy.

You drink a glass of juice in the kitchen, grab your light-weight beige jacket, phone, tablet, and exit the house for a walk. Gladly, Kim Construction’s van parked at the other end of the house where Jungkook likely still climbs around. You can go to the lake and get moving, all day in a seat won’t do your body any good. Any important task you can do on your tablet anyways. And pass the time. You think about how bizarre it must have been for Jungkook to first get caught in the middle of stripping, being offered a teacup as a lousy excuse, almost burning his tongue, and having to hear about cold weather with the sun out.

Mister Park calls when you observe toddlers collecting stones at the beach, and the animals that make them wonder. He wants a certain color adjustment, the theme has changed, the mood has to be different. Even brighter, everything. The changes you can employ through your tablet, but not actually alter your very own mood until you get the idea to visit an ice cream parlor about two hours later. It’s their last day, they’re closing down until the end of May next year. For a reason easily explicable to you after thinking twice, you order a strawberry ice cream sundae. A big portion, with fruit, because the Wok— you postponed.

All because you thought your panorama was boring and wanted a blue house. Sitting at the dock seems to bring up more worries than that, just being completely thrown off balance, not having your shit together. Eating strawberries at least makes you a little more tolerable to yourself at least. You wish you could mute your phone to avoid further pestering by client XYZ asking for a new layout until Friday. But who could blame them. Their expectations were high, too. All you can do it type around on your tablet to get the wedding cards finalized with the right type of swirl in the golden frames. The children play and fool around against the raging will of their respective parents, but they don’t care. They keep on throwing stones into the water until they’re satisfied. The sundae is gone all too soon and you’re still hungry.

You take a picture of the orange, crimson sun lowering itself onto the horizon, the lighthouse from the harbor at the outer end, with sailing boats, and of course, the mountains. Maybe it’s a picture Jimin’s banners could look good with, you realize, and zoom in. You almost overlook it, but at a second glance, you see a familiar red shade on the harbor wall. HEX #ED2939, imperial red. You know that one from somewhere. Putting the tablet down, you gaze where you believe the color is supposed to be down the docks. Quite far away, near the lighthouse in fact, but you do see a silhouette. Now you decide to walk closer. That red is really striking, resembling the dusky sky. Coming closer, the silhouette turns and waves at you .

“Good to see you! Y/N! How’s it goin’?”

It’s Jungkook, looking a bit silly with paint on his cheeks, and a flat white box in his hands. It really is gigantic. He sits at the dock in black sweatpants, seemingly watching birds by himself.

“After-work hours?”

At first, you hesitate, but then crouch down on the harbor wall next to him, legs crossed. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand. You can smell that he reapplied whatever spray deodorant was likely available in the van.

“We finished the Northern side an hour ago or so. But, uh, you look more exhausted than any of us!”

“I don’t know. And good job, Seokjin didn’t lie about being fast.”

“Have a slice,” Jungkook opens the white box for you to peer into. Now you realize what it’s for. Pizza Funghi. “We ordered way too much. And Namjoon was havin’ an allergic reaction.”

Jungkook’s mindless nodding returns when you make a ‘really, can I?’ glance at the pizza.

“What reaction? He’s allergic to pizza?”

“Oh, I think I have to explain that,” Jungkook tugs at the hems of his tank top. “It’s some sort of insider joke. Namjoon’s on a diet since he ate and drank too much at the summer festival. Or fasting, we don’t get it. Whenever he sees foods and drinks he freaks out. Jin came up with that joke, don’t ask me why.”

In passing, he hands you a napkin for your lap.

“Wasn’t the summer festival exactly about food and drink? The slogan was culinary joys or something.”

The pizza is pretty crispy when you bite into it. Jungkook looks at you munch with big eyes.

“You got some memory right there. I don’t even remember whether I went there or not!”

“I designed the posters,” you mumble, “that’s what I’m busy with in the office.”

“Hey, that’s a cool job. Wish I did that. Been dreamin’ of some more artistic work.”

“Sure, we can swap. I climb on the ladders with a hammer, you take phone calls.”

“Not good at that. I’d just collapse. You likin’ the pizza? Take the rest if you want.”

Jungkook parts his bangs with a hand, getting the strands out of his eyes. His eyebrows are quite strong, unlike his soft eyes looking at you from their corners because Jungkook faces the lighthouse, letting his legs dangle off the dock’s edge.

“Topping’s nice and chewy,” you rub the corners of your mouth with the napkin and get another slice. “You enjoyed your tea?”

“Definitely warm now. Jin was lookin’ at me weird and asked where it’s from.”

“I’ll get you two some more tomorrow. Is peppermint okay? Running out of strawberry tea.”

“As long as we leave Namjoon alone with his water bottles and apples, you can do just about anythin’.”

The children’s laughter disappears. You finish the third slice when the sun is close to setting. Even the bustling people from the ice cream parlor disperse, and the staff cover the windows with curtains from the inside. Jungkook makes you laugh when, accompanied by funny faces, he reduces the giant pizza cardboard box to nothing but a ball of paper with bare hands, and tosses it right into a bin — ironically, the wrong one for plastic. After tucking it into the adjacent paper can, alongside the napkin, Jungkook balances on the dock and talks about Namjoon’s whimsical adventures on the festival where his shades flew off on a carousel until you suggest to go to the lighthouse.

“Want a good picture I can use for an edit. Maybe from the top. The lantern room has a railing all around. Probably a good view.”

Jungkook agrees quite heartily, but once you do reach the white tower, perhaps 45 feet high, any rattling at the door latch is futile.

“Closed,” Jungkook sighs. “For ages, I guess. It doesn’t look functional. I’ve never seen a keeper around here anyways.”

But you already point to the left-hand side of the lighthouse that faces the sea.

“Talk about ladders. Look at that.”

“Huh?”

“There’s nobody around.” You tuck your tablet into the inside chest pocket of your jacket.

Jungkook gazes around.

“Oh... I get what you mean. Anythin’ for a good shot,” he advances, testing out the metal steps planted to the outside of the lighthouse in regular gaps. “It’s not much different from a scaffoldin’, I think.”

“My very thoughts. Are the steps not rusty or slippery?”

“Not really, just a bit narrow, kinda antique. But it’ll do. For me it’s easy at least. But are graphic designers always that reckless?”

“My clients depend on it. We gotta be quick before it sets, I need the colors to be bright.”

Jungkook already climbs a few test steps up and down. It looks more than agile.

“Wait, I figure this out,” he fumbles around, relocates his balance back and forth. “Can you do this?”

“No, I ain’t stupid. If you can carry me, we’re faster, too.”

Jungkook takes the final step with a cough. You unwind your iron clasp around his hip and neck. He still smells like that deodorant. Even up here, where the wind carries all scent away fast. You both climb over the railing, the lantern room right before you.

“Hey, we’re not dead! That was awesome. Athletics 101!”

“Doin’ this every day,” Jungkook fastens his tank top, bashful now. “Gotta be good at least somethin’.”

You holding onto him caused the top to slip sidewards. It almost makes you forget to take the picture until he points at your jacket where the tablet is stored.

“Your turn, Miss.”

“Clouds look just right,” you nod, “was a good idea.”

Click. A quick shot for a start. Click. One with longer exposure time. Click. You turn the tablet by 90°. Click. Now diagonal. You crop the second last picture, then change a filter, add text, ponder for half a minute, then create a panoramic view. Jungkook watches with intent, picking at the paint on his cheeks without even noticing. You change positions three times to look for a better angle, without the railing in the way. Concentration. You hold the tablet still.

“Never knew how this works,” he ruffles his hair around a few feet to the right. “Looks like one hell of a job.”

You tuck away your tablet again, realizing that the brightness of the horizon already fades. The five pictures have to suffice.

“Hopefully. Only worried about getting down again.”

“I’ll figure this out.”

Jungkook, instead of going to the railing the way you expected it, walks to the lantern house. Indeed, hidden by white paint, there’s a door. He twists the knob at the very side twice, then frowns a little, changes directions, walks to the harbor side of the platform. You can hear a knocking, clattering, then a screeching noise.

“Come around if you’re finished! Found somethin’. Way down.”

His voice is a little silent given that the breeze is strong. But you do walk half the circular to reach him. He squats down at an open hatch in the floor.

“No ladder. But I think the room down there isn’t too steep.”

“Hey, you genius! What’s that?”

“The livin’ quarters. Sure we find a key there to exit the lighthouse from the inside. Don’t know how else.”

“But you really wanna get in there, like, fall? It does look steep! And how can I—”

Jungkook already rubs his palms against each other, bends his knees three times, then sits legs downward at the edge of the square opening.

“I think pizza makes people do reckless things in general,” he hums to himself, then glides off the hatch into the room. The rebound isn’t as loud as you thought. You gaze down the hatch to see Jungkook, already upright, pop and gyrate his knees, then stretch his arms toward you.

“O.K.,” he nods his head, bangs swiped to either side of his face.

“Just the same as you did?”

“Part your legs a bit. Don’t wanna get knocked out. Catch you halfway, arms forward. And don’t bite your tongue or somethin’. Other than that, hm. Guess that’s it.”

“Take this first,” you unzip your jacket, cast it off backwards, then let it hang down as far as the length of your right arm permits. The tablet weighs it down quite a lot. Jungkook plucks it out of the air like it’s nothing, rests it to his side, yet out of reach. He rubs his palms against each other again.

“Don’t think too much, Miss Y/N.”

“Oh man, poor pizza in my stomach,” you sit down at the edge now, leg to either side parted wide, arms forward. Jungkook stretches his hands further up toward the hatch opening.

“Think you’re good to go.”

“Get ready.”

And you slip down.

Jungkook’s exhale doesn’t reach the outside world. Instead, you’re the one to breathe out groaning. Holding on tight. With his torso between your legs, rock-hard.

“Oh gosh, hurts! Oh, fuck!”

A quick sting of pain. When you feel your hands at the back of his neck, finally, you gather your senses. Look down. He did catch you. He did. Jungkook keeps on muffling.

“You okay?”

You lean back to un-burry his face from your breasts.

“Boobs are a curse! Ouch, ugh.”

Jungkook lets you down, slowly. The inside of your thighs glide off his waist.

“Rest for a moment, Y/N. That takes a minute.”

“I quit my dream of climbing around.”

“You’re no athlete. I practice this all the time, too. There’s a bed over there.”

The pain still remains. Your eyes dart around the living quarters. The room is surprisingly spacious, perhaps because it’s rounded. The keeper left everything in perfect order. Equally, the bed looks like a promising comfort.

“Don’t beat yourself up, my face was just in the way,” Jungkook removes the bed’s duvet with its layer of dust on it, then sits at the edge, eagle eyes on how you lower yourself, then lay down on the mattress.

“Give me a second,” you groan into your sleeve. “Feel like passing out. Shit is like a groin kick.”

“If you distract yourself, it’s easier. Takes your mind off. Just tell me.”

Hesitation. But your mind shortcuts right away.

“Just— Come over. I need your hands.”

Jungkook swiftly gets his Timbs off. They tumble next to your jacket on the ground.

“What should I do,” he moves closer, kneeling next to your torso. You can feel his warmth.

“Here,” you point at your sternum. Jungkook takes his right to hover above the spot, palm facing downwards. His left hand is propped up beside your shoulder, creating a dent you sink down with.

“Put it— Like this?”

“Back and forth. Like, massaging or something.”

“Got it.”

He is very warm. And it helps. The sting, with every rub, eases. His palm is very broad, but light on your body. You can smell his deodorant again, but with a bit of sweat mixing in. Tinged bitter, but still sweet. You like it. Perhaps he wasn’t so wrong about distraction. Perhaps you were not so wrong about boredom. His touch takes away from the tightness in your chest the longer he circles his fingers into the spot between your breasts that gently part for his motions.

“Feels better, Kookie. Keep on.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook continues rubbing until the pain is wearing off, numbing, at least. The way he retreats his hand makes the bed shake a little because he shifts his weight, and the dent is gone. You’re looking at him now—

Something clinks on the floor. Strangely metallic. A noise more silent than you actually thought it was. You’re both startled. Looking around. Everything is blank.

“What was that? Is someone coming? Shit, shit!”

“Miss, wait a second.”

He peeks over the edge of the bed where the noise came from. You sit up. He’s chuckling. Then, he picks up a little silver item.

“Look at that.”

“Oh?”

He’s laughing.

“I think that’s the key. Keeper stored it under the mattress.”

“That was the shock of my life!”

“Your chest’s better, then,” Jungkook picks up the key and drops it on the dusty nightstand. “Gotta say, that was, uh, I was bein’ stupid. Namjoon knows how to catch paint buckets like that, he’s probably the only one lookin’ graceful.”

“To each their own talent. To each their own mishap. His shades flew off.”

You kick off your own trainers, adjust on the bed after removing the dust-covered pillow gently not to cause a stir in the air.

“We were searching for an hour or so,” Jungkook scratches his head. “It flew far, you know.”

“He seriously needs to read the safety instructions next time.”

“We climbed on a lighthouse, can’t preach to him ‘bout that I think. Pics will be pretty cool though.”

“I’ve had my climbing, you had some art stuff today.”

“Always learnin’ somethin’.”

The duvet is back in place, as is the pillow, the hatch closed with the makeshift help of a broomstick. You tap down the stairwell that smells a lot like sea, jacket back on, with the light from your tablet illuminating the way down. Jungkook, in his Timbs, is ready to dodge bats or spiders, but the staircase isn’t too webby and dusty. Only the stairs are a bit grimy.

“Need the biggest shower of my life,” he grits, balancing downwards.

“I can drive you home if you want. How did you get to my house earlier?”

“By bike, it’s parked at the harbor. My house isn’t too far away. Gettin’ there in ten minutes.”

“Ah, okay.”

After you get to the bottom of the tower, the key turns in the lock with less ease than you thought. Instead, you turn the knob and the door pops open with a creak.

“Opens from the inside only,” Jungkook huffs out a laugh. “I’ll get the key back to where it was.”

You hand him the tablet faithfully, and in the matter of a minute, he’s back to hand it to you. The bike in question is indeed not very far. As red as his tank top, chained before the beautiful mountain scenery. There’s fog coming up already.

“Don’t have any tea available I’m afraid.”

“Will get warm when I’m pedallin’,” he removes the lock from the bike with a number code, then puts on the helmet attached to it. “See you tomorrow, Miss Y/N. I try not to walk past your office too often.”

“Oh, my clients will be more than satisfied, I’ll have more time to lean back. Got a lot of work done today. If you want, I cook something in the Wok for everyone at lunch. Tit for tat. I liked your pizza, Kookie.”

“Tit for tat?”

“You don’t know that expression? It’s not because of my boobs. They’re fine now.”

“Ah— uh, sorry for that again.”

“Tit for tat just means, ah, compensation. Back and forth. I’ll treat you to something, hm.”

“Sure it’s gonna be delicious.”

“We’ll help Namjoon get over his allergy as well. I’m confident.”

Jungkook’s eye smile appears under the brim of his helmet. You ask whether you can take a picture with your phone before he leaves. Oh sure, Miss, he says, adjusts the tank top. You zoom in a bit, center his face. There’s still a bit of blue paint on his nose. Click!

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necrokittytales · 5 years

Text

Necrokitty Tales: Trouble in Inkwell Isle (Chapter 27)

Authors’ note: Necrida’s writing will be in italics and SPKC’s writing with be regular font. If you have no idea what this roleplaying thing is, you can start from the beginning here.

———————————————————————————

The sun was starting to set when the kids sold their last cookie. They celebrated their sales with a cheer and counted their winnings: you could buy two days worth of groceries! That was very good indeed. Pleased with their earnings, they ran to Hilda’s to give her the money.

Once at the observatory, they knocked at the door and Hilda opened seconds later.

“Oh! Hey kids! How did the baking go?” She smiled, leaning on the frame of the door, making sure not to be loud enough to attract the clown’s attention upstairs. She was surprised to see Spike and she frowned a little. She knew the kid and not for a good reason. Every time the school came to visit the observatory, the pup always tried to break something and get into trouble.

Harvey beamed proudly. “We did really well! Everyone really liked our cookies! Mina and I were able to sell them all with Spike’s help!”

Spike grunted. “I made sure nobody tried to nab a free cookie,” he grinned with his crooked smile.

Mina shook the metallic lock box holding their coins, making a clinking sound. “Look how much we made!” She gave the box to Hilda, who took it with a raised eyebrow.

Hilda opened the box and whistled. “Wow! You guys! This is a great help! Thank you so much!” She gave a hug to all of them, including Spike. Well, she had to force him a little, the pup did not take to physical attention as easily other the other two children. “I’m glad to see you’re putting your destructive energy to good use,” she whispered to the pup.

“All this work deserves to be rewarded!” She picked a few coins from the box and split it amongst the kids. “Thanks a lot…seriously.” She didn’t wanted to show it, but she was really touched by the gesture. She had a knot in her throat and she could feel her eyes getting glassy.

“Woah! Thank you! But we didn’t do this for the reward! We did this for the good of humanity…. and, you know… to help you,” little Mina said, referring to the possible arrival of violent extraterrestrials. “Right, guys?”

Harvey nodded. “I really like the observatory and I would be sad if we can’t get it rebuilt!”

Spike sighed. “Plus, where will the teacher take us on field trips? No field trips means more school and that sucks!” He whined.

Hilda smiled sincerely at them. “Aww, thank you! I didn’t realise you liked this place so much.”

‘One more reason to stay,’ Sagittarius pointed out in the woman’s head, making her smile even more.

“I’ll try to hurry up and fix this as soon as possible. And you’re welcome here anytime! You’re now my tiny VIPs.”

“Thank you, Miss Berg,” Harvey thanked, making sure he got the correct title this time. He tapped Mina. “Hey are you coming to sleep over tonight?”

Spike butted his head in. “What? You guys are having a sleepover?”

“Oh! Yeah! That would be so much fun! I just have to ask my mum real quick, but I’m sure she’ll say yes.” The kids said goodbye to the sky witch and headed to Mina’s. “You should come too, Spike. His dad makes fruit come out of ears!” The little bat explained mimicking the gesture of the magician.

“Your dad sounds like a quack!”

Harvey just silently prayed his sister wouldn’t make Spike a quilt.

____

Beppi shooed Hilda away. “I got this, I got this! Just go organize your stars!”

Beppi had not awaken when the children had come to visit earlier that evening, much to Hilda’s relief. Unfortunately, he was still here even after she snuck in to check on him in the hopes that he would have taken off. So she was stuck with him until his obnoxious alarm went off, sending the clown tumbling over himself in a perfect pratfall.

Hilda rolled her eyes but finally obliged, casting her cloud and soaring into the night sky to enjoy the moonlight and the quiet away from the clown. He was pleased with this and set up his equipment. It was his first shift and he was a little groggy after a nap, but otherwise happy to start his shift of being a lookout.

If he had to be completely honest, however, he didn’t expect the dragon to REALLY come back to Hilda’s tower. That was like a criminal coming back to the scene of the crime. And he didn’t know any nostalgic criminals. Still, it was something to do and bugging Hilda had been an absolute delight! Not as good as the Baroness, but she was a close second for sure.

He really hoped Djimmi wasn’t too mad at him. The genie had been under a lot of stress as of late but he didn’t really share unless the clown managed to get him to smoke some of his special pipe. He should do that when he got home. Provided Hilda and he weren’t married by that point and running a bumper car business. These thoughts soon filled his dreams as he promptly fell back asleep.

____

The skies were fully covered in dark clouds, hiding the moonlight, as night finally set upon the Isles.

Grim was not bothered by the darkness. Instead, he was trying to make himself less nervous, but he was not having much luck. He had spent hours thinking of the horrible, embarrassing thing he did earlier that day in Bon Bon’s castle, and tried to gather the courage to go out again. He wanted to recover his letter to Bon Bon that was sent to Hilda by 'fortunate’ mistake.

He kept playing in his head the awkward conversation Hilda and he would inevitably have, over and over again, until finally one of his heads got sick of it and forced him to get out and start flying towards the observatory, ignoring the rumbling of an approaching storm.

As he drew closer to Hilda’s home on top of the hill, he could feel his heart beat even faster. He so hoped the meteorologist hadn’t opened the letter yet. The storm that had been slow to approach was much closer now. A crash of thunder nearby, startled the dragon into a surprised roar, destabilizing his flight somewhat before he realized it was just thunder. He was really just too tense! He needed to hurry and get to her home so he could put this whole mess behind him. ____

Beppi was startled awake by the thunder. He looked at the tea next to him suspiciously. “Hmmmm, I wondered if Hilda drugged me…wouldn’t be the first.” The sound of a loud roar perked him up immensely and he stuck himself out of the window.

Coming toward the tower all shadowy and spooky like was a large dragon. Beppi gaped. “Wow, this IS really lucky!” He gleefully giggled and started to load his glitter cannon.

Grim was flew around the observatory, feeling sorry to see it in such a state. He looked for some lights or indication that the woman was home.

Beppi finished loading his sparkle cannon and took aim. He was still a bit too low so he reinflated his legs and he gave a happy grunt as he was able to aim more effectively. He spotted the dragon and paused.

“Huh, that kinda looks like Grim,” he mused. Then again, the dragon was supposed to look like him a bit. He shrugged and fired.

Grim heard what he thought was a very small thunder, before something painful struck his thigh. He released another, and more terrifying, growl, thankfully managing to keep himself stable in the air as a soft rain started to fall around him.

____

The time away from the observatory was a pleasant change for Hilda. It allowed her to calm down, diminishing, although not destroying, the urge to strangle Beppi. She spread the stars out across the night sky, unfortunately missing a few constellations she had forgotten in her hurry to escape the clown.

When she was done, she took the chance to fully clear her head. Taking a deep breath, she settled comfortably on her cloud and admired her work. The view of the stars on the blackness of the infinite universe helped her put thing in perspective. It wasn’t too bad that her observatory was partially destroyed, she realized. It could have been much worse. Like what had destroyed her house when she was on the bed with-.

'Oh! We should definitely do that again!’ Gemini interrupted all too cheerfully in their recognisable unison. Hilda rolled her eyes. She did agree with them that as much fun as she had with Cagney, it was most certainly a one time thing.

'What are you afraid of?’ Sagittarius tried to figure out.

“I’m not afraid of nothing!” The stubborn woman yelled, “I just…don’t feel the same way.”

'Again, you DO realize we are inside your head right?’ Tauros pointed out, rolling his eyes. 'Of course you have feelings for him. We want to kill him, remember?’ Now it was Hilda’s turn to roll her eyes as the rain started to pitter patter around her.

“Leave me alone for a moment, please! I just want to enjoy-!” She heard some kind of growl in the distance. For a second, the sound confused until her thoughts jumped on the possibility that it could be Cagney, who might have turned into his monstrous form for some reason. Though for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why at this point.

'Well, seeing the clown in your place in the evening might be a good reason. IF he’s the jealous type,” Tauros suggested with an invisible smile, delighting himself with the idea of a possible scuffle with the carnation.

'Don’t be silly!’ Sagittarius said, “It’s probably the mirror dragon! We better head home fast! Beppi might be in danger! He is still injured, right?!’ Hilda opened her eyes widely at the thought before turning into a blimp and rocketing through the clouds towards her home. ____

Beppi reloaded another canister of glitter, noting that the first case he shot did a really good job of making the dragon really shimmer.

He was a bit surprised the mirror dragon wasn’t already glittery like it was in the circus. He started to chuckle. "Knowing how things go, it’s probably Grim!” He fired again, now smiling even wider at the thought of dousing Grim in glitter and sequins

Grim roared again at the second impact. He spiraled slightly out of control but this time he was able to see where the projectile came from. “Miss B-b-berg! Why are you shooting me!?” He managed to shout, flying closer to the window, not knowing Beppi was the shooter. “It’s m-me! Grim!”

There was a heavy rain now. Lighting and thunder filed the skies, illuminating the shadowy silhouette of the dragon.

____

Beppi scratched his head. He has about 75% sure this was not the dragon they were looking for. Then again, it WAS glittery now - granted it was probably due to him shooting it with glitter but that was beside the point.

He loaded up on canisters and shot it just above the dragon so it would explode, completely drenching it with the glitter. It was even brighter than a disco ball!

Grim growled angrily as the explosion of the glitter and sequins got into his eyes, blinding him. As he struggled to paw the material away from his eyes, Hilda advanced upon him from the skies. She spotted the flailing, shiny dragon near her home and saw red.

“The crystal dragon!” She furiously hollered. The dragon seemed like it was going to crash into her house, so she immediately gathered a small tornado and threw the spiraling wind towards it. “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY HOUSE, YOU BASTARD!”

The tornado reached its target, tossing him away from the house. Grim had to do a great effort to stay in the air, and growled again, confused.

Beppi stopped firing at this point as Hilda swooped in from the sky. He cracked his knuckles. “Whelp! I’ve done my part! Time to grab a snack!”

Grim stabilized his flight, managing to clean his eyes. He looked around, trying to find where the voice came from and what it actually said, for the thunder and heavy rain prevented him from hearing and seeing clearly. He was starting to get really scared. Another thunder boomed near him, making him think it was another of the glitter bombs. He quickly spat a huge flame and turned around frantically, giving him the appearance of whirling fireball in the night sky.

Hilda was too close and didn’t have enough time to doge the attack, forcing her to quickly transform into Gemini. The twin constellation split just in time for the fire to pass between them.

“You’re gonna get it now!” Gemini yelled, creating their golden sphere and shooting projectiles towards the dragon.

Grim felt the hits and growled in pain. He decided it was probably best to flee than to confront whatever was attacking him.

Gemini saw him trying to escape and grinned. “Oh, no you don’t!” Clouds covered their bodies and Tauros thrusted with a snarl towards the scared creature and crashed him against the wall of the cliff, where Hilda’s house stood. Grim released a painful roar and sunk his claws into the rocky surface to prevent him from falling down.

Taurus took the opportunity to strike the dragon a few more times before the dragon could finish scrambling up the wall back up to the house. Grim retaliated with whip-like attacks of his tail and a few fireballs. The heavy water of the rain started to wash the dragon’s scales making him less shiny, but Tauros was too focused in his anger to realize it. ____

Another thundering shake of the observatory finally cajoled Beppi to look outside as he ate his snack. “Looks like Hilda’s taking on the dragon. Neato!” He searched through his bags until he found the long, blonde wig and fluffy pom poms he had packed in anticipation of something like this.

He climbed through the hole, put the wig on and started cheering enthusiastically. “Go, Hilda, go! Go, Hilda, go!”

Tauros was about to thrust again when he heard Beppi’s cheers. He looked up and his eyes shined with anger. “You can walk!?”

Grim saw his chance and hit the bull with his tail, giving him the opportunity to get a better look at what he was dealing with. The hit made Taurus lose his focus and transform back into Hilda, who had to immediately summon her cloud to avoid falling.

“Ok! That’s it! NOW I’M PISSED!” She yelled as the clouds started to cover her body to turn into her final form.

Grim finally recognized the woman. “No! No! Wait! It’s me, Grim!” He shouted to the sky witch. At the sound of his voice, she halted mid transformation.

“Grim!?” She exclaimed, emerging from the clouds, still in her human form. “What the fuck!? You scared the shit out of me!”

“I scared y-you!?” The dragon replied with teary eyes. It was obvious he was terrified.

“Well, yeah! I thought you were that shiny dragon who destroyed my observatory!” The woman flew closer to the dragon and pet him gently. “I’m sorry.” She looked back, frowning at the clown, her eyes still shining with anger. “Come, Grim, let’s get dry before we catch a cold.”

____

Grim and Hilda stared angrily at the clown as all three sat at the kitchen table, a tea set spread out for them. Well as best as Grim could sit considering he didn’t quite fit into the home. Hilda had to rig up a series of tents and sheets to provide a makeshift protection for the rest of Grim’s body that could not fit within the confines of the home. Grim had the suspicion Beppi knew all along it was him. And Hilda was angry to see him walking and cheering like he never got hurt, which meant all the hugging and caring he had asked from her was absolutely unnecessary.

Beppi continued to smile at both of them. “Sooooo…..how are things going?”

The two bosses were still glaring at him and he couldn’t figure out why. “I feel like you’re both upset with me somehow.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh right! One second!” He reached up and pulled off the wig. “There, you know my secret. I’m not a natural blonde,” he sighed, pouting

“You made me hug you….” Hilda said softly but in a very angry tone. “And you were just FAKING IT?!” Grim rolled his eyes and drank a bit of his tea, his body still sore from the glitter cannons and the fight with Hilda.

Beppi’s smile got a bit smaller. "Would you rather I had been seriously injured?”

Hilda felt a bit guilty, maybe she was overreacting. Again. But she didn’t like being played for a fool neither. “No! Of course not! But, c'mon! You emotionally manipulated me. That’s not cool.” She sipped her tea, trying to gulp the guilt building up in her throat.

Grim had no idea what they were talking about, and he thought it would be wise to stay out of it and wait the proper moment to state his business here. He took the chance to discreetly look around for the letter.

“Am I?”

Beppi pulled up one of his legs up to show a hastily patched long hole. It was already starting to open up again. “Comedic timing makes things hurt less,” he explained with a grimace.

The woman swallowed loudly. “I-I-I’ll help you patch that properly. L-later,” she said, lowering her voice until it was almost a whisper. She avoided the clown’s eyes and tried to hide behind her mug.

“Wow! What happened?” Grim asked, worried. “You need to go to the hospital?”

Beppi stretched and slowly got up with a limp. “No, just back to the circus is all! Give me a day or so and I’ll be right as rain. Just like this rain!” He opened the door and gestured to the rain.

They both looked looked at each other, worriedly.

“If you’re leaving, let me at least give you a lift!” she offered, standing up.

“Oh, or, I can take you. It’s on my way, anyhow. I just need to recover something first.” Grim said shyly.

Beppi shook his head. “Oh no thanks! I’ll just float home! I’m sure I’ll see you both later!” The clown inflated his head and slowly floated back toward the second isle.

Hilda couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved. Having the clown around was really starting to get to her nerves, not to mention the guilt! She truly hoped he would recover soon. After watching Beppi float away, the meteorologist turned to the dragon. “So what’s that something you want to recover? I don’t remember you lending me anything lately.”

“Oh… yeah.. uh… it’s… it’s about…a m-misdirected letter….” The dragon blushed.

“A let~oh! Right!” She smirked. “You mean….” She walked to the counter near the door and opened a drawer, pulling out the letter. .“..this very honest letter you wrote to Bon Bon?”

Grim turned a more intense shade of red. “Y-yeah…that one…I see you have read it…d-did you showed it to Bon Bon?” He asked, afraid of the answer.

“Not yet.” She sat back at the table. “Where did you get the courage to write and send this letter? I mean, no offense, but you don’t really strike me as the 'direct approach’ type.” She let the letter settle on the table between them.

“Uh, yeah. I had a little encouragement from a friend…and Cagney.” Grim replied, embarrassed.

“I knew I recognized this handwriting.” She pointed to the envelope. “But I don’t understand the mix up. This was obviously for Bon Bon, so how come Cagney wrote my address?”

“Well… uh… we were v-very drunk, I guess he must have wrote it b-by reflex.” The dragon decided to keep the existence of Cagney’s letter a secret until Bon Bon decided to give the letter to her. “I should g-go now. It’s getting late and I’m still sore from the f-fight.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m really sorry about that,” Hilda apologized nervously.

“It’s alright… uh.. just… one last t-thing.”

“Yeah?”

“P-p-please don’t tell Bon Bon! I d-don’t want her t-to know that I… I….”

“That you want to see how she looks without her dress?” She giggled, making the dragon very uncomfortable and red with embarrassment. “Don’t worry! I won’t say anything. But you should tell her how you feel before it’s too late.”

Grim nodded shyly and thanked the woman for the tea before taking the letter and flying back to his tower. Hilda found herself alone once more. She took a deep breath, trying to take in the peace.

'How come you never take your own advice?’. Sagittarius asked, making the woman cringe.

____

Finally, Grim got back home with the cursed letter and opened it to read its content one last time before turning it into ashes. His eyes opened wide and his jaw fell, his two other heads popped out to the surprise of the content of this envelope.

“Oh… that fucking clown….” They all said in unison. ____

Isabella agreed to let Mina go have a sleepover at Harvey’s. After helping her gather her things together, she kissed her goodnight and sent her off before finally turning on herself. She started to get ready herself, for tonight might be the night King Dice would show up.

It didn’t take long for Isabella to reach the Night Owl Club. She walked in, filled with a confidence that cleverly disguised the fact that was indeed blind. “Good evening, Isabella.” The bartender and the rest of the staff greeted the woman as she walked by.

“There has been some changes for tonight.” Oliver, the rooster who worked as a host, said, a bit worried to the bat. “Our lead singer Patricia Parakeet is back, so you will be her back-up singer for tonight.”

Isabella felt awful about this new information. She didn’t mind being a back-up singer but she was expecting King Dice to show up and get a chance to impress him with her musical talents. She would a harder time doing this if she was in the back.

“Oh! Well, that is great! I’m glad she recovered so quickly,” she lied. “Are you going to introduce us?”

“Of course, of course! She’s in her changing room now. We’ll have to wait 'till she comes out. She, ah, doesn’t like to be disturbed.”

Isabella greeted the band and sat at the bar to wait for the lead singer, drinking water with lemon. ____

Patricia sat in her dressing room, fuming. She had to share the stage. She NEVER had to share the stage before. But all of her squawking and shrieking did nothing to change Marvin’s mind. Apparently the other girl had signed a contract. Which was a bunch of bird seed in her opinion. Who just signed some girl from nowhere up for a gig? Marvin was as dense as he was short sighted.

She applied the blush heavily to her puffed up yellow feathery cheeks. "I’m should be the one who travels the world, recording records and singing for royalty!” She scowled, adjusting the boa around her neck. She practiced a few bars, applied some throat spray before smirking. “We’ll see what Daddy has to say after he gets back from his business trip!”

She finished up dressing and stepped out, her beady eyes immediately scanning the bar for any new faces. Particularly any dumb floozies that were stupid enough to try to steal her gig. There was a peahen that tried one time and, well, one of her feathers made for a wonderful decoration for Patricia’s hat. And let’s just say the beautiful feathery boar around her neck had been a delightful gift from her father after she had him remove that trio of flamingos that tried to force her to be a back-up singer.

Her eyes fell on a mature bat and she paused. This wasn’t the competition she was expecting. But bats weren’t know to be powerful singers so she confidently swayed toward the woman. “Are you the back up singer?” She asked when she got close enough, ruffling her feathers.

Isabella’s ears wiggled at the sound of approaching steps and her nose twitched at the smell of strong perfume. “Hi! Yes I am. And you are Miss Parakeet?” She guessed, judging for the expensive scent she was wearing.

Patricia smiled at the introduction. “Yes, I’m Patricia Parakeet. But you will continue to refer to me as Miss Parakeet. Not Patricia and NEVER Patty. Do you understand?”

“Of course, Miss Parakeet.” Isabella smiled. She wasn’t the first star wannabe she encountered. And she was sure it wouldn’t be the last. It was best to let her think she was in charge. “Your voice is very familiar! Where have you performed before here?” Better gather some intel, she thought.

Patricia smirked. “Ha! I truly doubt you have heard me before. I only sing at places where the patrons are real class acts. Cream of the crop, the like you wish you had a chance to even glimpse at. But you will have the opportunity to hear me tonight.” She leaned in a bit closer. “There’s a chance of a promoter coming tonight and if you screw this up for me or try to upstage me in some way, I will make life in the isles very, VERY uncomfortable for you. Do we understand each other?”

“Oh my! Coming on a bit strong, are we? You feel threatened by my voice, dear?” Isabella used her enticing tone to show how charming she could get.

Patricia snorted at the bat’s attempt. She recognized the change in tone. She couldn’t copy it, but she could recognize it well enough. “Hardly! I can’t have an amateur mucking things up for me! And if you hadn’t signed on with Marvin, you would already be gone.”

The bird started to walk away only to pause. “Don’t think you’re the only one who can win a crowd, sister. I’m not just a pretty parrot.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know about your looks, but you certainly are a smelly one if you need that amount of perfume.” She finished her drink. “Should we practice, Miss Parakeet?” she asked innocently.

Patricia had picked up a very thin champagne flute but at Isabella’s words, she snapped the stem in half. “Smelly? Figures you bats only have a refined sense of hearing, not smell!” She hissed. She patted her feathers down at the sight of patrons starting to walk in.

“I’ve already practiced, but I’m sure you could use a warm up. Perhaps in the alley attached to the kitchen? Where they throw out the dish water.”

The bat stood up and walked towards the band. "You know what? I’ll wing it,” she said, waving her delicate wings, “That way you’ll have a better chance to get noticed by the promoter.” She smirked, but got distracted and stumbled into a table with a thud. “La naiba!” the woman cursed, embarrassed, and walked slowly towards the stage.

The Lounge Lizards had just finished tuning their instrument when Patricia stepped on stage. She started to croon, not putting too much effort in as the night had barely got started. Still it earned a whistle or two from the small amount of patrons and she couldn’t help but shoot the blind bat a dirty look.

Isabella started the evening as a pretty good back singer, adapting her tone to the bird’s voice as the song required it. She didn’t overstep into Patricia’s spotlight and let her continue on, letting her become overconfident. The night just started, and the bat knew she would get her chance to wipe her shoes with Patricia’s feathers.

During the short intermissions between songs, Oliver would stop by to critique them, to say how good they looked out there and how well they complimented each other. And more importantly, if any promoters had arrived. Isabella acted humble in front of the rooster, but whenever the singers were alone, they would get right back to the fighting.

It was during one of those spat breaks where Patricia really found herself getting riled up by the nonchalance of the bat. “What do you hope to get out of this? A free ride to some of the most elite clubs? Money? You wouldn’t know what to do with class if it came and bit you in the ass.”

Marvin tried his best to ignore the women’s squabbling. At least the two could sing well even if they were at each other’s throats. He started to walk toward the bar to reorganize the stash only to freeze as the atmosphere changed.

There was no mistaking the new visitor and he turned quickly toward him, rubbing his hands together. “Aw, King Dice! What an absolute pleasure for you to visit my little club!”

The large casino house boss stepped toward the mole. “Little might be stretching it, Marvin.”

Marvin nodded, glad no debt collection was happening. “Can I get you a whiskey neat, or sour patch on the rocks?”

King Dice shook his head. “Perhaps later, I’m here for business reasons.”

“Business?” He gulped hesitantly. The last time someone from the Casino was here for “business”, a couple of arms were broken and the wall paper had to be replaced. However, none of those things had happened yet so Marvin was cautiously optimistic. King Dice chuckled.

“Well I hear you’ve got two singers that are a choice bit of calico.”

The mole brightened up. “Oh! You mean Isabella and Patricia! Yes, yes. Had you wanted to meet them?”

“I would be most obliged.” The mole lead King Dice to the stage at the sign of a break and winced as he overheard the two women bickering. “Ladies,” he interrupted, “I would like you to meet a friend of the club, King Dice.”

Isabella’s ears perked up, but she kept her cool. Finally, there was his opportunity to meet King Dice. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr Dice,” she said, charmly, taking a lovely pose, with one hand on her hips, that innocently showed her soft curves.

King Dice very subtly took in her figure. “Well hi de ho, ma'am. You must be Isabella?”

“And I’m Patricia!” Patricia interrupted, pushing her way in front of Isabella and batting her eyelashes.

King Dice smirked. “You certainly are. How long have you both been singing?”

The bat smiled at Patricia’s childish way to interrupt, for that proved she was nervous and more prompt to make a mistake.

“Well…”. She played shyly. “My origins are humble, but my hardwork has taken me far. Started singing in the lower districts in Paris when I was eight, and somehow I made my way to Germany, England, Italy…and now here.” She added a subtle sensual inflection into that last sentence, hoping that King Dice would pick up on that, and hopefully, fall for his charms.

King Dice smiled appreciatively at Isabella’s summary. “I like a woman who’s traveled. A gal who knows her onions.” He turned to Patricia. “And how about you?”

Patricia fluffed up her feathers. “Well, I’m a born natural! But daddy made sure I had the best lessons anyway even though he says that you can’t improve perfection,” She tweeted happily.

The casino employee raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Well, you ain’t certainly no canceled stamp, that’s for sure. Do you have family around here?”

Isabella shrugged. She didn’t like to talk about her Mina in the club. You never knew who could be listening, and years of hiding had made the bat paranoid. Still, she was planning on staying here for while, so he would eventually find out regardless.

She cleared her throat and recovered her confidence. “I like to travel light”. She kept smiling. “ I only bring my daughter with me.”

King Dice grinned even wider at that. “Well, that’s just sweet. So you and Miss Parakeet here? How long have you worked together?”

Patricia waved a feather, flopping Isabella in the face. “Oh she hasn’t been here very long at all! She’s a temp is all. Just one of my background singers until my career really takes flight if ya know what I mean,” she winked at the older dice.

Isabella’s nose got tickled by the feather, and the woman decided to not hold it back and sneezed on Patricia. “Oh! Dear! I’m SO sorry!” She fakely apologized. “My nose is very sensitive, you know?” She had to make an effort not to laugh.

“Well hopefully your nose isn’t too sensitive for all the cigar smoke around here. I’m from a place that caters to a certain type of clientele that values their vices, including have a drag or two.” Patricia shrieked and made a motion to strike the bat with her wing.

King Dice took Ms. Parakeet’s wing. “I’m sure you could find it possible in your incredible large heart to allow Isabella here a chance to sing as well. I’d hate to have to leave if I didn’t think things were…fair.”

Patricia was irritated but didn’t want to wreck her chances. “I suppose she could have a turn. But only ONE song. She IS back up, afterall.”

He grinned. “I’m sure that will be enough for me to determine who has the greater stage presence.” The King waved them both off as he turned around. “I look forward to hearing what you girls sing.”

“I will not disappoint you,” Isabella said sweetly as King Dice walked away. Once she was certain he was out of hearing range, she turned to Patricia. "Well, I’ll let you go first dear. I wouldn’t want to put you in the position of following my act.” she said, full of confidence.

Patricia smiled. “Yes, I can only see how appropriate that is. After all, it’s beauty before age.”

“Isn’t the saying 'age before beauty’?” Marvin asked as he walked by the two women.

“Nobody asked you, Marvin!” Patricia tweeted angrily. She strutted back up to the stage and quickly chatted with the band before approaching the microphone with a sensual smile to her lips.

“How many of you boys here want to feel special tonight?” She asked before she started to croon.

____

'She has a strong stage presence, I’ll give her that…’ Isabella thought to herself hearing how the audience cheered and whistled to the bird. 'If she wasn’t such a diva wannabe, I could learn a thing or two from her…’

The sing ended and everybody broke in a applause, including herself.

Patricia blew a couple of sweet birdie kisses to the crowd, already spotting a pile of telephone numbers waiting for her on one of the watier’s trays. She flipped her tail feathers at Isabella. “Hope you fly well because there’s no way you’re reaching the bar that I just set with that”

The bat smiled at the bird, trying to show confidence. Truth was, she was starting to doubt herself.

She talked to the band and Oliver accompanied her to the microphone.

“Evening, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s hear it again for Miss Parakeet!” Isabella spoke into the microphone. Everybody started cheering again. “She’s a wonderful inspiration to us singers all around the world,” she continued talking as the applause started to fade. “And I have to thank her for giving me the chance to prove my worth here tonight. Thank you, Miss Parakeet, for trusting in me”. She sounded sincere and elicited some admiration applause from the crowd.

The music started and Isabella waited for her cue. “Trussst in meeee…” The song began and she accompanied every phrase with subtle sensual movements of her body.

The audience grew mesmerized by her enticing tone and the snake like movements she did with her body.

It was as if a spell has been placed over the crowd - a fact that did not go unnoticed by King Dice. Even he found the bat very mesmerizing indeed. It appeared Chips and Mangosteen had been on to something after all. It would almost make up for the fact that he was going to be assigning them extra shifts for having dragged him out of an important meeting for this.

Yes, a singer like this could do very well at the Casino and he started drafting up the contract in his head already

The song ended and the public broke into an applause and cheered at the new talent. Isabella thanked them and Oliver helped her back down the stage. She hoped King Dice was as pleased as the audience.

Patricia shook her head as if she was waking up from a dream and confusedly looked around. Everyone was cheering enthusiastically and she furrowed her feathered brow in confusion. How did this happen? Was she a witch?! Not a missed note nor an accidental warble. There was no way this could have been happened.

The evening continued as normal, with both singers on stage this time. The public was very pleased and the evening got very animated.

It was time for the singers to take a break and Isabella headed to the bar and ordered a glass of water with lemon. She was starting to get worried. Patricia had a talent to change tones very quickly and it was a bit hard for her to follow sometimes. She wondered if that would hurt her chances to get picked by the casino owner.

She took a sip of her drink and tried to relax. Her thoughts shifted to her deceased lover and sadness rushed in her heart like a wave. If she played her cards right, she might get him back again.

“Tonic water and lemon?” King Dice observed as he took a seat next to her, “I respect that. It’s not professional to get zozzled on the clock.”

They could hear Patricia guffaw as she sat on a table surrounded by some of the males. “Oh you’re so funny, Charlie!” She laughed, gently hitting a bloke and taking another dip of her martini.

Her ears perked at the voice of the man and she quickly recover her charming facade, showing a sweet smile. “Some people need a bit of liquid confidence.” She chuckled. “Enjoying the show so far?”

King Dice motioned for the bartender to bring him a drink. “Quite. Any chance I could borrow some of your time for a private conversation?”

She hid her enthusiasm. “Of course. If you like, we can go to the changing room backstage. To talk. In private”. She felt like she needed to clarify. Although, he did sound like a gentleman, and it had been a while since she was handle by a gentleman. Her cheeks blushed slightly, and her heat rate started to become dormant, as it has been for years.

King Dice smiled. “You sweet bunny, I ain’t no skirt chaser.” He followed her into the dressing room and took a seat. “Miss Isabella, I am the house manager for a little place at the edge of the isles called the Devil’s Casino. I’m responsible for a lot day to day tasks, special events and tournaments, as well as the entertainment. And from what I’ve seen tonight, I think you would make a good addition to our staff. Is something that would tickle your interests?”

The bat widened her smile. “Indeed it does, Mr Dice! When can I start?” She said sweetly, feeling closer to her goals.

The dice smiled and retrieved a piece of paper. “You could start this week if it so pleases you.”

He laid the paper flat on the table in front of the bat, the raised dots on the parchment indicating the braille text. “The casino doesn’t just employ anyone off the street, mind you. That Patricia bird is a very lovely doll, but she doesn’t have the right lifestyle for a position like this. We like to employ those that have more experience, maturity,” King Dice started to explain.

He pulled out a pen and held it out to the eager woman. “An employee who knows to follow the rules because they have something…or someone to lose if they don’t,” he added, still keeping a smile on his face.

Isabella heard the warnings of the casino owner, and she didn’t like what he was implying. Still, she caressed the paper sheet with the tip of her fingers and started reading the dots on it. It seemed like a standard contract.

She held the pen nervously. She was so close to get what she wanted. Not only would she work at the Devil’s Casino, but she would have easier access to the Big Boss himself. It was just a matter of time.

She signed the contract with a lovely, well calligraphed signature, and extended her arm to shake his. “Thank you very much for giving me the chance, Mr Dice. I won’t disappoint” She said sweetly.

King Dice plucked the paper away and stuck it into his breast pocket. “We look forward to having you on board. Swing by this week when you’re ready to start.”

He excused himself and left the room, leaving Isabella alone. He made eye contact with Patricia as he walked through the bar and smiled and nodded at her.

Patricia froze, not needing words to understand what had happened. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to use some of her own words to express HER displeasure what happened.

“Are you freakin serious?!” She shrieked, nearly making KD laugh.

Marvin went to assuage her. “Patricia, calm down.”

“She wasn’t even here for a week!”

“Trust me, I’m just as disappointed as you are. I would have loved nothing more than for you to leave as well,” Marvin admitted.

Patricia really fluffed up her feathers and pushed away some of the guys she had attracted. She went to the bar and ordered something heavy. She would make that bat if it was the last thing she did.

———————————————————————————

CHAPTER 01, CHAPTER 02, CHAPTER 03, CHAPTER 04, CHAPTER 05, CHAPTER 06, CHAPTER 07, CHAPTER 08, CHAPTER 09, CHAPTER 10; CHAPTER 11; CHAPTER 12 ; CHAPTER 13 ; CHAPTER 14 ; CHAPTER 15; CHAPTER 16 ; (nsfw) CHAPTER 17 ; CHAPTER 18 ; CHAPTER 19 (nsfw) ; CHAPTER 20 ; CHAPTER 21 ; CHAPTER 22 ; CHAPTER 23 ; CHAPTER 24 ; CHAPTER 25 (nsfw) ; CHAPTER 26 (nsfw) ; CHAPTER 27 (you’re here now!)

#necrokitty tales #necrida #smallpersiankitten #smallpersiankittencuphead #Beppi the clown #grim matchstick #hilda berg #mina betchstein #harvey hare #spike #isabella betchstein #patricia parakeet #king dice #submission

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tylerdown13rw · 6 years

Text

T.D. 2: Study Buddy

requested: yes!

Ugh I’m so glad someone is finally writing for Tyler! (He’s my fav and deserves so so much love) could I please request an imagine where you get paired up for an assignment in class and just like studying at his that turns into deep chats and his parents inviting you to stay for dinner and them being happy that Tyler has a friend/maybe more (some parental teasing) (sorry if this makes no sense but thanks anyway!)

Hii! Same, Tyler is adorable and I love him with my whole heart. It’s sad to see that a lot of people dislike him, but I will forever love my bb 💕💕It’s such a cute idea. I hope you like it! (the reader actually really likes tyler’s room and i do too bc of all the camera’s aaaa i love)

GIF: a-fandom-imagine

Mrs. Bradley’s class, Communications. You think it’s the most fun class at Liberty. There wasn’t a lot of homework, but it was interesting enough. But for today, Mrs. Bradley did have homework planned. At least, that’s what it says on the chalkboard.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen! As you can see,” she points to the board, “we have some homework planned! No worries, it is due in a week. Plenty of time!” She starts handing out pieces of paper with the assignment written out on it. It wasn’t a big project, it was getting to know someone from your class. Getting to know about their hobbies, personality, music taste and other things like that. You were quite nervous. You had your own group of friends, but you really didn’t talk to other people.

“So, ofcourse I will pair everyone with people that they don’t know that well!” Mrs. Bradley works her way through the list, naming the different pairs of names of the people who would be working together. “Tyler Down and.. Y/N Y/L/N! Those are all the pairs, sit down next to eachother so you can start the project already!”

Placing your books and pencilcase in your F/C bag, looking around the class. A boy with brown, curly hair is standin in the middle, his hands around his bag and a camera hanging around his neck. You walk towards him, as he was the only person left. “Tyler Down?” He nods and gives you an awkward smile. “That should be me!”

Half an hour later, you guys look like you have been best friends for years. A lot of giggling and whispering could be heard from your table. “Hey, we can work on this project later today, right? This is my last period for today.” Tyler nods, as he packs his stuff. “We can go to my house. I can drive you? I saw you getting out of the bus this morning.” You raise your brows and smile. He noticed you this morning? You wished he did earlier, maybe you could have been friends earlier then! “N-not in a stalkerish way! I just saw you!” You laugh and nod. “It’s okay! See you at my locker?”

—-

It was the day before the two of you had to finish the project, and there were only some small things to finish up. You are laying on your stomach on his bed, with books and papers in front of you while chewing on the back of your pen.

“So.. I know basic things about you now. But.. Not any deep things,” Tyler says, spinning around on his chair. You look up at him and shrug. “I.. like your room?” You giggle. It wasn’t a lie. The camera’s and camera lenses on his desk, his bookcase and his bed. It also smells really nice, like flowers and deodorant. May sound weird, but true.

Tyler starts laughing. “Come on! That’s not that deep. You don’t have any secrets?” You shrug again, closing your books and shoving them in your bag. Sitting up on his bed, you signal him to sit next to you. “I don’t really know, actually. I can tell you some random facts, I guess? I really like stars, they look pretty. Oh, I also love vintage things! That’s why I love that camera so much,’‘ You say, pointing to the camera on Tyler’s desk. He has multiple, vintage looking camera’s in his collection. You lean against him and sigh.

‘‘So, what are your ‘deep‘ secrets?’‘ You chuckle and look up to him. A tiny smile appears on his face as he looks out of his window. ‘‘Well.. No one really knows that I play piano, I guess? I love being outside and..’‘ He lifts your head up from his shoulder, staring into your eyes and keeping his hand on your cheek. ‘‘I really think that I li-’‘

‘‘Tyler!~’‘ A voice shouts through the house. Your little moment ends, and not even a couple of seconds later, his mom opens his bedroom door. ‘‘Hello Tyler, how are y- Oh, hello!’‘ She enthousiastically makes her way over to the bed and takes your hand. ‘‘Are you Tyler’s friend? How adorable! Are you staying over for dinner? We are eating pasta, it’s Tyler’s favorite!’‘ You look at Tyler and then just nod, smiling at Tyler’s mother. ‘‘Ofcourse, Mrs. Down! I would love to!’‘

She takes the two of you towards the living room and opens up a drawer from a closet. ‘‘Mom, please. Don’t,’‘ Tyler sighs, but his mom is already seated inbetween you two, holding a book. The front was plain black, with different stickers and a font that spelled out ‘Tyler‘ in a metallic gold color. These have to be babyphoto’s, and damn, you were excited.

After twenty minutes of giggling and squeeling about the pictures, his mom makes her way to the kitchen and starts making the dinner. ‘‘Uughhh,’‘ Tyler groans. ‘‘I can’t believe that she showed you these! I don’t like pictures of myself!’‘ You chuckle and softly pinch his cheeks. ‘‘Little Tyty looks very cute though!’‘

Dinner was different than what you expected. You had never met Tyler’s parents before. His dad was a.. typical dad. You had never heard that many dad jokes and puns in a short amount of time, but it was a lot of fun. Tyler’s mom was really caring, sweet and an amazing cook. She, also, makes a lot of jokes, but tends to be more calm than his dad. ‘‘So..’‘ Tyler’s dad starts, and picks up his glass of wine before taking a sip. ‘‘We are so happy that Tyler has made new friends. He always has a hard time to talk to new people.’‘ You nod understandingly, you heard a lot about the bullying and mean words that they tell Tyler.

‘‘You guys look absolutely adorable together! We need a picture of you two, right? I think you would be a perfect girlfriend for Tyler! Don’t you think so? How cute! Are the two of you dating?’‘ Tyler’s mom rambles on, excited about the social and the love life from her only son. ‘‘Uhm.. yes?’‘ Tyler states, although it sounds more like a question instead of a definite answer. You reach for his hand underneath the table and give it a soft squeeze.

‘‘Yes.’‘

#13 reasons why #13 reasons why imagine #13 reasons why x reader #tyler down imagine #tyler down x reader #tyler down

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officialleehadan · 6 years

Text

Blood Claim

After the agreement was made, it was time to disperse and bring their respective covens into play. Helena considered her numbers and found them better than expected. The fledglings would mostly have to be moved out of the city, but that was standard. Combat with humans usually involved a lot of human blood, and no one wanted to risk a full-scale frenzy in the middle of the city.

Still, her coven might not be as big as some of the others, but they were well-connected to the Other community in their territory.

The river split the city, and running water always attracted Others. Her side, the west side, also contained a good bit of seafront, and a sprawling public market.

The perfect place to find allies.

“Am I crazy, or did that actually go well?” Owen asked as they slowly walked towards her limo and waiting driver. “I mean, it did, right?”

“I told you, this is not the first time we’ve put old grudges aside to focus on a threat,” Helena reminded him, and checked her watch. It was getting on towards one in the morning, and she could smell dawn, hours off yet, but coming. “No one wants to risk our city for one Hunter, no matter who that hunter is.”

He opened his mouth to answer, when suddenly there was a blur, and he was pinned to a wall.

“Yvanna!” Helena’s voice cracked like a whip as she staled towards the snarling Elder. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Chao-Fe and Ekaterina tense. Yvanna was Ekatarina’s closest friend and ruled North-Port Coven to Ekatarina’s South-Port. “Release him, now.”

“He murdered Henri!” Yvanna hissed, and squeezed Owen’s throat tighter as her eyes flashed red. “An Elder. One of our own!”

And her sire. Helena cursed herself a fool for not remembering her relationship with Henri. She should have planned this better.

Owen’s heart was fast, and his breathing was raspy. There was nothing for it.

Helena pushed forward, calling on gifts that she rarely used but kept sharp, just in case. She hit the other Elder hard enough to send her flying, and caught Owen before he could fall.

“Thanks,” he coughed, and she stepped between him and Yvanna even as the Russian vampire got to her feet, hissing. “Uh-“

“Stay behind me,” Helena told him, and shrugged off her blazer. “And hold this.”

She didn’t look back, but he took the white silk without another word.

“You dare,” Yvanna snarled and stalked nearer. Helena let her claws slip free, and hoped she wouldn’t have to kill her fellow Elder here and now. With a threat bearing down on them, the loss of leadership could be devastating. “My claim is true, and his life is mine!”

“He is under my protection,” Helena said mildly, and got ready for a fight. Yvanna was older than her, but had never been much of a fighter. “You know that when I called this meeting. You knew that during this meeting. If your claim was true, you would have voiced it there, not here, like a fledgling with no decorum.”

“Yvanna, she is right,” Ekatarina said from the sidelines. At seven hundred years old, she was the second oldest vampire in the city, and had often played the judge in disputes. Her fairness was beyond question. “And you did not target the human before now, despite his presence in our city.”

“I killed him for murdering my best friend,” Owen found his voice but wisely didn’t move from behind Helena. That was good. She didn’t want to risk him while he was still useful. “One of his massacres led to a handful of fledglings being turned and abandoned. One of them was my best friend. I killed Henri to stop the massacres, and to get revenge for my friend.”

“We were aware of Henri’s regrettable choice of amusements,” Chao-Fe said, backing up Ekatarina with a disinterest air that was mostly a ruse. Plenty of challengers took that disinterest for real, and did not live to regret it. “Yvanna, you know our laws. If you had claimed Vendetta before now-“

“He is human,” Yvanna spat, and dropped her claws. They glittered silver with metal caps and Helena sighed.

This was not going to be fun, and the timing couldn’t be worse.

“Ekatarina, you witness my claim on this human?” she asked, and nudged Owen out of her way. Yvanna was going to try for him any moment, and Helena would probably have to kill her. The other Elder was close to Frenzy, and unless she backed down, she was a danger to them all. “I called this meeting in good faith for our laws, and I remain lawful in my actions here, including the defense of my property.”

“You do.”

“Traitor!” Yvanna accused Ekatarina, who pursed her lips in faint disapproval. “How can you take the side of prey!”

“Another Elder has claimed him,” Ekatarina told her mildly. “You know our laws. If you had spoken before she did, his life would be yours, but you did not, and so it is not. Stand down, sister. This is not the time.”

“I am no sister of yours, traitor!” Yvanna screamed at her, and lunged forward, so fast that even Helena could barely follow her. “Die!”

She might be fast, but Helena had, sadly, been expecting something of the sort. Yvanna’s temper was legendary, and once began, the Frenzy would not cease. They all feared the madness for good reason. It was a shame to have one of their highest fall to it.

“I am sorry,” she murmured as her fingers sank through Yvanna’s silk blouse and skin and curled around her heart. “This was not how I hoped to settle this matter.”

With a single twisting wrench, she pulled Yvanna’s heart out of her chest. The other Elder only had time for a single, horrified gasp before she crumbled into ashes.

Helena brushed vampire dust off her sleeve and turned to reclaim her jacket from Owen, who was mute with shock.

“I trust,” she said as she pulled her coat on over her shoulders, “That this will not be considered a crime against one of our own?”

“Your claim was clear,” Ekatarina said sadly, and regarded the pile of ashes on the dirty pavement. She reached into the back of her own limo and retrieved an elegant urn, and knelt to gather Yvanna’s remains into it. “She attacked, in violation. Your kill was clean.”

“So it was witnessed,” Chao-Fe agreed, and sighed. “Who was her Second?”

“Ilari,” Helena said, and ignored the dust and blood that still stained her hand. “He is reasonable and capable, but he is young.”

“I will take the territory until after this crisis,” Ekatarina said, and looked at Owen. “This death was unfortunate. Be glad you were under protection this night, or it would be your blood here, and not hers.”

With that she turned and slid into the limo, Yvanna’s ashes cradled in her hands. Chao-Fe nodded shortly and followed her lead. Helena waited until they were both gone to pull out her handkerchief. It was dark with dirty blood by the time she balled it up and put it back in her pocket.

“Are you okay?”

The concern was surprising, and Helena considered the question ash she nodded to her unflappable driver. It was not the first vampire fight he had seen, and would not be the last.

“No,” she decided after a while. “the loss of an Elder in a time of crisis is always bad, and Yvanna was one of our oldest. Her Second is untried. Ekatarina is able to rule both covens, but that is not sustainable for long.”

“I’m sorry.”

That was real sincerity, and Helena examined her human with new curiosity. He shrugged uncomfortably when she didn’t say anything more.

“Why?” she asked at last, genuinely interested. “I did not particularly like Yvanna. She was acceptable, but Henri instilled a number of poor habits in her that she refused to give up when she became an Elder. In fact, she might have been there when you killed him, if she had not already been Elder of North-Port Coven.”

“The other lady-vamp seemed upset.”

“Yvanna was her dearest friend. They were young together in Bucharest where the hunting is good, and came to this country together just after the American civil war.”

There was a lot of shared history among the Elders, but few were closer than Yvanna and Ekatarina. Helena only hoped she hadn’t just ended her friendship with Ekatarina by killing her old friend. It would complicate things if she had, although Ekatarina was old enough to keep personal feelings out of it until the crisis was past.

The thought of Yvanna reminded Helena of a task left undone, and she turned to Owen even as the limo purred towards her Coven-Hold, and safety.

“What-“ Owen said as she caught his chin firmly and tilted his head up. His heartbeat began to pound and Helena ignored it in favor of examining the new bruises on his skin and the faint, bleeding marks of Yvanna’s claws. “What are we doing here?”

“Tell me if you have any trouble breathing,” Helena ignored his question and prodded gently at the darkening skin. He hissed, but there didn’t seem to be deeper damage underneath. “Throat damage is nothing to ignore. I have several very talented doctors in my pay. If you need attention, tell me.”

“You’re taking this protection thing pretty seriously,” Owen said as his heartbeat slowed. Helena was surprised, considering her fingers were still on his throat, but she supposed he had good reason to trust her intentions at this point. “Thank you.”

“It is my duty to protect this city and my coven.” Helena told him, and leaned back into her seat. “I only wish Yvanna had felt the same.”

+++

Blood and Passion:

White Marble

First Negotiation

Blood Summit

Blood Claim

+++

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