#and then jump into the proper content tomorrow. so far enjoying it i really like alan grants writing for the shadow of the bat issues im

[volfoss]

trying to finish all 100 issues of batman no mans land in under a week MIGHT be a mistake but that unfortunately will not be stopping me

[lin-nin]

Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 10

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot:   You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a   desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer:   Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help  your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer:   Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

--

Chapter 10: Wedding Plans

< | Previous Chapter

Your first night at the new kingdom was rough. You laid in your bed for hours, your blanket pulled to your chin. You wanted nothing more to sleep- it sounded like a blessing at the moment. It didn’t come easy, and you eventually moved to look out the window instead. The blanket hung around your shoulders as you did, a quiet sigh spilling from your lips. The view outside felt completely different at night, the soft glow of the moon spilling over the land. In the surrounding city you could make out the warm glow from the lamps. It was surreal, feeling so much more different than your home.

You pondered about what your life here would entail. Techno hadn’t really said too much. You figured you would be told as the days went on what to expect. You figured most of your time as of current would be dedicated to preparation for the wedding. Maybe even some training, if Techno found time to do so. You didn’t know what his duties would entail, and how similar they would be to George’s. You’d adjust inevitably. Exhaustion was weighing heavy on you, your gaze once more shifting to the bed longingly. You weren’t entirely sure if you would be able to fall asleep just yet. You pondered going to the library, but decided against it. That was on the other side of the castle. You didn’t have the confidence to go alone at night, either. Beyond Techno and his brothers, you didn’t know who to trust.

So, with a defeated sigh, you trudged back to the bed and wrapped the blanket tight around you. Might as well try to sleep. Absorbing yourself into your thoughts would only lead to exhaustion tomorrow. Which wasn’t what you really wanted. You knew tomorrow would inevitably be busy. The wedding had been mentioned multiple times, you knew there needed to be planning for that.

It felt like you had only blinked, head full of thoughts of the wedding, when you were cracking your eyes open. Light spilled into the room through the window you had gazed out of earlier, making you sigh. Breakfast. The thought made your stomach turn a little. This would be your first proper introduction to the court. Sure you knew plenty of people, but you had managed to evade dinner last night due to the tour. You couldn’t as easily escape the obligation of breakfast. If you did, your body would make you pay dearly later. Besides, you couldn’t avoid it forever.

You peeled yourself out of bed, wandering towards the closet. You wanted to make a good impression on everyone, without being so horribly overstated. You freted, before settling on one of your simpler dresses. You set it aside, thumbing through your jewelry for something to wear. You briefly ran your thumb over the necklace Dream had given you, marveling it. It was almost tempting to wear it, to have that comfort and security you had always felt with the blonde. Yet you decided against it, choosing something less understated that your mother had given you on one of your birthdays.

Once satisfied with the choice in clothes, you stole away to the bathroom. It had been a couple of days since you last bathed, and you figured it wouldn’t hurt. You did skeptically eye the full bath, trying to guess when servants had slipped into your room to fill it. No matter. Steam rolled along the surface of it, and you couldn’t help but sigh as you slid into it. It worked rather quickly to relax your muscles and nerves. You definitely needed that. You eyed the small shelf by the tub, picking up a few of the bottles to smell them.

One smelled of vanilla, which you deeply considered. The other you smelled carried the scent of rose and lemon, a scent you easily recognized. It was hardly different from the one you used at home, which you had forgotten to bring. The only thing that seemed to be missing was the base note of patchouli, and you did miss the earthiness just a touch. All the same, you were content that this was here, wherever it came from. You quickly used the bottle to help freshen yourself up. A quick run over with a damp cloth ensured you were rid of any dirt. As the water began to cool, you finally pulled yourself up and out of the tub to dress.

You lingered in the room, fingers running over your dress a few times. Nervously. You really didn’t want to walk into the dining hall alone. As if to answer your silent pleas, there was a knock on your door that you quickly answered. Techno stood on the other end, peering down at you through his glasses. You offered a soft smile, trying to hide your nerves.

“I figured I should walk with you to breakfast. Since we missed dinner and all,” He explained, but you only nodded. You stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind you as you did so.

“Right, sorry about that, still. I appreciate you walking with me.” Your hands once more smoothed down over your dress, almost fussing on if your appearance was perfect. Who all would be there? Perhaps just a few other nobles, maybe the King’s advisors. It shouldn’t be too big, should it?

“Making things seem distant between us would only give people reason to dislike you.” The words only served to make you shudder, a frown on your face. You easily recalled Philza’s words of the advisor, the thought causing your stomach to turn. This was going to be a rough breakfast, you already knew.

“Right. Some people aren’t exactly excited about this. That’s fine. I’m prepared for that,” You muttered in an attempt to reassure yourself. Techno reached up, giving a reassuring pat against your back.

“They’re harmless. It doesn’t matter what they think,” Techno muttered as the pair of you descended the stairs. You sighed but nodded. He was right, honestly. It wasn’t like the king hated you, and the rest of the royal family seemed to at least not hate you. So long as they didn’t hate you, you hoped you could stomach the rest. From down the hall you could already hear Tommy making a fuss, causing you to smile. That helped ease your nerves. It was a different environment than you were used to.

You glanced at the table as you walked in, relieved by the familiar faces around the table. Techno moved towards his father, pausing to pull out one of the empty chairs and motioning you into it. Your eyes scanned the few unfamiliar faces as you sat down, trying to ease your anxiety.

“Mornin’ Techno! Mornin’ Techno’s wife!” Tommy called as Techno sat between you and his father, causing the pink-headed prince to glance at his brother.

“She’s not my wife yet, Tommy,” he simply clarified, sounding far from amused.

“How’d you sleep, kiddo?” Philza detracted the attention from his rambunctious nephew, offering you a smile. You relaxed a little, appreciating the older man’s words.

“I slept alright,” You murmured, offering a feeble smile. You hadn’t slept great, or all that much, and you had a feeling it showed on your face.

“It’s a new place, that’s always rough. I’m sure it’ll get better soon.” You could only nod at his words, thankful for the reassurance. He was nice, and truthfully you enjoyed that about him. He felt very much fatherly. Techno slid a cup in front of you, steam billowing from it. You smiled thankfully, offering a quiet thank you as you picked it up. Tea was definitely acceptable this early in the morning, especially as a slight chill clung to the castle.

The man sat beside Philza cleared his throat, offering a gentle smile. Your attention quickly turned to him, brow furrowing a little. He wasn’t someone you recognized- definitely didn’t meet him yesterday. “A pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Eret- cousin to those three.” He motioned to the prince’s as he talked, and you nodded slightly.

“Nice to meet you. Techno never mentioned having a cousin.” You set down the cup in your hands, glancing at Techno briefly. He furrowed his brow, a soft ‘heh?’ leaving him.

“He likes to forget about him.” Wilbur spoke up, causing Tommy to laugh. You sighed, shaking your head with a small laugh.

“I don’t know how! Eret’s been here since he was little,” Tommy spoke between laughter, making your gaze turn back to the brunette across from you. He seemed almost embarrassed, shrugging.

“I’m sure Techno had a lot on his mind whenever he spoke of the kingdom, there’s a lot of people to remember here.” Eret didn’t seem too bothered by the lapse of information, and you shrugged.

“He mentioned Tubbo, though. Is he forgetful enough to mention a family friend as opposed to his actual family?” You teased, throwing a sly grin at Techno. It was easy to slip into this with the egging on of his brothers.

“Oh- Did he really? I mean, I practically did grow up with Tommy,” Tubbo asked, head popping up.

“You’re like a little brother to us, Tubbo. You were always there, Eret didn’t come to the kingdom until Techno was almost seven, remember?” Wilbur pushed, and the brunette seemed to purse his lips in thought.

“Not well, no. We love Eret anyways!” The man between Eret and Tubbo scoffed, a hand holding his head. Tired brown eyes stared at his plate, a glass bottle in hand. He looked rough, stubble lining his jaw and brown locks falling into his eyes. You eyed the brown liquid within the bottle as silence fell over the table.

“That’s Schlatt, the advisor Philza spoke of yesterday,” Techno’s voice came quietly against your ear, making you jump in surprise. When the hell had he gotten there? Your attention quickly turned back to the man as he took a drink from the bottle. Was that alcohol?

Physically, you could see the similarities between him and Tubbo, but that was about it. Even now, the younger brunette seemed largely uncomfortable next to him. It made your chest pang, wondering what all had happened to cause the rift in their relationship.

Schlatt stood up with a grunt, sloppily pushing in his chair. “Come on, Tubbo. We’ve got work to do,” Schlatt called. There was a drawl in his voice that made you rather uncomfortable. You didn’t like him, and you had a feeling it was similar to the way the princes felt towards him.

Tubbo looked down to his plate, seemingly steeling himself. “Yes, Schlatt,” he muttered softly. What had Schlatt done that had made the brunette become so quiet? You didn’t like it one bit. Before Tubbo could even move to follow his father, you spoke out.

“Actually, I was hoping I could borrow Tubbo for today!” Tubbo’s head snapped up at that, eyes wide. You blinked, not even sure what you were saying. Schlatt stopped his walk, bottle hanging from his hand as he turned to look at you. Perhaps glare was a better word? You swallowed, steeling yourself as you continued, “I’d really appreciate his input on the wedding plans.”

“The wedding,” Schlatt sneered, eyes narrowed. His gaze moved from you, to Techno, then to his son. “Whatever, take the bastard for the ridiculous wedding. Like I give a damn.” With his words, he took a swig from the bottle before sauntering out of the dining hall. With his leave, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate.

A relieved sigh escaped Tubbo’s lips as he slumped in his seat, closing his eyes. “Thank you so much,” He mumbled into his hands. You sighed, shaking your head a little. Not exactly what you had expected, but you’d take it. 

“I hate that he keeps calling you that,” Tommy grumbled, while Wilbur just patted his shoulder.

“It gets him away from Schlatt for today, so what’s it matter?” Wilbur offered with a shrug. Tommy just continued to grumble under his breath while Tubbo offered a weak smile.

“You don’t actually have to help with the wedding. I just didn’t feel right leaving you to go with him.” You brushed it off with a smile. It was true, though. You truly didn’t want to send Tubbo off with Schlatt. The man gave off a bad vibe you didn’t like in the slightest. So, coming up with an excuse seemed the most feasible. The king sighed and shook his head, otherwise staying quiet. You had a feeling this wasn’t too different from a normal morning.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind helping! If everyone doesn’t mind,” Tubbo sheepishly chimed, moving to rub the nape of his neck. Tommy groaned dramatically, slouching in his chair.

“Tubbo, come on. You’re gonna make us do stupid wedding planning all day? With Eret and Wilbur and Techno? At one time?” You snickered a little as he complained, head shaking. Wilbur smacked him in the back of his head in response to his dramatics.

“Your opinion doesn’t count, Tommy.” His voice was so plain, even as the young blonde whined and rubbed the back of his head.

“I’ll show you what does count! I swear, I’ll beat you so hard you won’t be able to remember your own name!” He shoved at his brother, and you shook your head.

“I don’t mind if you tag along, Tubbo. I’m sure the input will be appreciated,” You spoke over the ruckus of Wilbur and Tommy as the two pushed at each other. The words seemed to make Tubbo glow with excitement, almost as if the whole thing with Schlatt hadn’t ever happened.

“Alright, boys, go outside before you break a plate or the table. Go on, do your fighting there.” Philza spoke from behind them, and your head popped up. He must have moved while you were focused on Tubbo. Tommy was stuck beneath Wilbur’s arm, the older yanking him around. Philza unceremoniously pulled out the chairs they sat on, forcing them apart as he shooed them away. He looked exasperated, but fond of their antics all the same.

“I’ll judge!” Tubbo called, standing up hurriedly. He gave a brief, sloppy bow towards the king before running after the two princes.

“Is it like this every morning?” You sat down your utensils, reclining in your seat.

“Not every morning, but a lot of them. It wasn’t always this way,” Eret shook his head but smiled. You turned to Techno, where he stared towards the door with an affectionate look in his eyes. It was almost sweet, seeing the way he gazed after the rambunctious trio.

“It only started to get like that a few years ago. Not quite becoming of princes, but they don’t seem in a rush to behave like royalty.” Techno’s voice had the same fondness his gaze did, and you hummed in acknowledgement as you sipped the last of your tea, cradling the cup close.

“Not anymore, at least. We should go and start doing some planning ourselves,” Philza muttered, turning towards the king. The man nodded, slowly rising from his seat.

“Please see to it your brothers don’t destroy anything this time, Technoblade.” He gave him a pointed look, making him sigh and nod. The king walked away, Philza tailing behind him. Leaving you, Techno, and Eret sitting.

“Well, let’s get started? There’s no telling how long it’ll take. Especially since Wilbur is currently in the process of fighting Tommy.” Eret shook his head as he spoke. You nodded, moving to stand. A hand entered your vision before you could even get to your feet. You shook your head, unable to help a laugh.

“Should I get used to you not letting me get out of my seat on my own?” You managed a lighthearted jab at him as you took his hand, allowing him to gently pull you up.

“Yes.” The way he said it was so flat and monotone, you couldn’t stop the laugh bursting from your lips. You just shook your head, giving a lopsided grin.

“Thank you, Techno. Wanting to teach me to fight but not letting me get out of a chair without hovering.” His lips pursed at that, eyebrows furrowing. Like he saw nothing wrong with it. Not that there truly was, it just seemed almost contradictory. Eret even seemed equally amused, though he didn’t poke at his cousin the way you did.

“I’ll go ahead and get the boys before they destroy each other. I’ll meet you in the ballroom with them.” Techno gently pushed you towards his cousin, before striding off in front of you. You shrugged, walking alongside Eret towards the ballroom.

“It’s gonna be an interesting day, isn’t it?” You questioned, glancing up at Eret. Of course he was tall. It really did run in the family.

“Most likely, yes. They’re never quiet, and Tommy gets antsy quick,” Eret said with a laugh, making you smile. You didn’t think you would mind too much if it made it lively. It would take care of the uneasiness you felt regarding the wedding. A relief to the tension you had a feeling might form if it were just you and Techno.

“You didn’t always live here at the castle?” You broached the silence that had spread over the pair of you, and he hummed a little.

“No. I came around the time I was eight. Their mother was my aunt, and some things happened with my parents. Philza ended up adopting me, so I’m just a cousin on their other side now,” He chuckled, and you nodded. That made some sense. It just seemed the castle was hardly lacking in boys to run the place.

“I see. I imagine that keeps it rather busy here.” You shook your head, following as Eret opened the door to the ballroom.

“Very. Right! This is where the majority of the wedding will be held. The celebrations, namely. The formal ceremony will be held in the gardens, we’ll go through those in a little bit.” Eret clapped his hands together, leading you through the ballroom. He pointed to various spots, explaining the plans he had for the celebrations. You would nod along, pitching in your own opinions when you felt it necessary.

“I think you should go to the brothel and get some women,” A new voice chimed in from near the veranda, making you jump.

“I like the way you think, Big Q! It’s not a party without some women!” Tommy responded, and you turned towards the voices. You blinked at the new person standing among the princes, a lopsided grin on his face. His black hair was splayed messily on his head, smudges of dirt along his face. You had a feeling he had been messing with the other, who also had dirt on their faces and bodies. What a mess. Tubbo and Tommy even seemed to have a few forming bruises on their arms, Tommy’s hidden by the same green bandana he had worn in the portrait you saw in the dining hall. 

“I don’t think the princess is fond of the idea of there being whores at her wedding, Quackity,” Wilbur piped up upon seeing your rather deadpan face. The expression was similarly mimicked by Techno, who stood behind the four of them.

“Princess? Oh- shit!” Quackity did a double take, before giving a hurried bow. Seemingly remembering exactly who he was talking to. Amusement at the almost embarrassed look on his face caused your lips to twitch up into a smile.

“Right. Yes. I would prefer there to not be women from the brothel at my wedding, Quackity.” You tested his name out carefully, and he slowly stood up from his bow. Tommy snickered from behind him, failing to hide his amusement at the fool he seemingly made for himself. He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing softly.

“I would also prefer to keep it that way,” Techno said as he stepped around the group, back towards you. He stood on your other side, leaving you in the middle of the two men. Which made you feel incredibly small.

“You two are so boring, what’s the fun without women?” Tommy groaned, trailing behind Wilbur and Tubbo as they wandered over as well. 

“You’ll have fun anyways, Tommy. You always manage.” Tubbo barely looked at his friend, eagerly listening to Eret as he went over what he had been telling you once more. The group gathered around you, but you hardly minded right now.

“I was thinking, Tubbo and I could do some of the music. We’ll have other musicians too, but I think it’d be nice to be able to play. It’s not every day your little brother gets married,” Wilbur talked, grinning over to Techno. Techno huffed, head shaking as the older affectionately threw out the term.

“Oh, that’d be wonderful!” You lit up with a smile, fully on board with the idea. Wilbur smiled back, seemingly fond of your approval.

“And,” he started, his grin turning almost mischievous, “I think it would be even better if our groom here plays a piece himself. You do play violin after all, Techno.” The words made your hopeful gaze turn towards Techno. He looked almost neutral, though his eyebrows were furrowed and a faint flush painted his cheeks.

“Well, I-” He grumbled, looking down to you and your soft smile. He gave an almost frustrated sigh, looking away. “Fine. I’ll play something.” He huffed a little.

“Perfect! So we’ve got rough plans for the ballroom decorations and the music.” You clapped your hands together, grinning.

“What the hell, Techno? You never play for anyone!” Tommy whined, eyes wide as he looked between you and him.

“It is his wedding, Tommy. It’s only fitting he plays,” Tubbo defended. Tommy, Tubbo, and Quackity bickered about Techno’s playing as Eret led that large group towards the veranda. Techno held your hand as you went down the stairs. Tommy made a mocking gag sound, and Quackity simply imitated Techno, holding his hand out for Tommy.

“Quackity, stop it, I’m not holding your hand,” Tommy complained, nose wrinkling. You shook your head, eyes rolling. They really were like children. 

You peered at the flowers as you walked to the gardens, looking for any you recognized. Eret spoke about the plans, and you absently nodded along. At least until he showed you where the ceremony would be held. “Here?” You murmured curiously, looking at the flowers. Your fingers ran over the petals, trying to note the flowers you did see. The easiest to identify was the roses- why was it always roses? Red bled into the white from the edges, and you smiled just slightly. They were pretty, most of the ones back home were either red, white, or yellow. Rarely hybrids. The only time you received a hybrid of one was from dream, but they were never red and white. Always red and yellow.

Curled near the roses stood a plant with broad green leaves and occasional clumps of pink flowers. It was faintly familiar, and you struggled to place it. You remembered Dream stating that they weren’t the best flower, trying his best to remove it from the gardens. You had no idea why, though, as it seemed to be doing just fine here. A hand grabbed yours as you went to run your fingers along the leaves, tugging it away.

“Careful,” Techno mumbled. He dropped your hand, lifting the leaves carefully. Behind them was a thick branch, coated in thorns. You had barely noticed them, stretching out about an inch. You had been so focused on the flowers.

“Thank you,” you murmured, turning back towards Eret with a soft smile. “This’ll do wonderful. What’s next?”

“That’s most of the basic stuff for decoration at the moment. I think Nihachu wanted to discuss catering? I have to get some stuff together for your dress, but I can come find you when I have,” Eret explained. You nodded, seemingly content with the idea.

“Do we have to come along?” Tommy groaned loudly, clearly growing bored with all of the proceedings. You laughed, head shaking.

“You never had to, Tommy. I think the only people obligated are Techno and I.” You shrugged, letting the group move back towards the castle.

“Come on then, Tubbo. Let’s get out of here, this is so damn boring.” The brunette looked towards you as if for confirmation, and you simply waved your hand. You didn’t expect them to truly tag along for too long. Especially Tommy, he didn’t seem the patient type to deal with planning.

“I’ll come check in later!” Tubbo tried to offer as Tommy, and Quackity, practically dragged him off. For what, you had no idea, but you didn’t want to ask questions. This thinned out the large group, allowing you to let out a soft breath. It was less crowded, which you definitely appreciated.

“Nihachu said she’d be in the dining hall with some samples of food for you to try,” Wilbur spoke, pausing at the top of the veranda. He watched Techno help you up, Eret slipping away from the three of you to go do what he needed.

“Sounds good with me,” You hummed. This might be one of the longer parts of the day, but you didn’t mind. Food was important, especially for a wedding. Even if it was stunning with beautiful music, you knew it would feel empty without proper food. As most celebrations would. Inside the dining hall was the same woman Wilbur was with the day prior, fussing over various plates on the table.

“Nihachu!” Wilbur called, causing the blonde to look up. She grinned up at him, practically bounding over to him to give him a hug. 

“Staying to taste the food?” She asked, focusing on him for a few moments.

“I’d never miss an excuse to eat it outside of meals.” He ruffled her hair, making her wrinkle her nose. She turned towards you and Techno, grin softening to a smile as she curtseyed slightly. 

“I’m Nihachu, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” She greeted warmly. You couldn’t help but return the smile, almost relieved to see another woman among the boys you seemed constantly surrounded by.

“You too. It’s a blessing to have someone who isn’t a prince to deal with.”

“Hey!” Wilbur gasped in offense, echoed by Techno’s quiet ‘Heh?’ of confusion. Nihachu only laughed, covering her mouth with a hand.

“Come on, there’s lots to try and discuss. Everything can be mixed and matched, as well. We have plenty of time between now and the wedding to refine everything.” She motioned the three of you towards the table, pointing to various dishes and explaining them to you. Some of them were unbelievably good, and you made sure to point that out. She seemed pleased with the praise each time, making note to include whatever you praised into the catering.

As she pointed to one of the dishes, you noted the ring on her finger, piquing your interest. “Are you married?” You asked without much thought, motioning to the simple band. Nihachu glanced to the ring, cheeks reddening slightly.

“Oh-! No, not yet, at least. It’s a ring my girlfriend gave me to promise she only had good intentions,” She murmured in embarrassment. Wilbur laughed beside her, trying and failing to hide the fact. She pushed at him slightly, trying to bring the focus back to the food instead. 

After a couple of hours of tasting and discussing, it was finally finished. She seemed content with the feedback, promising she would make sure everything was perfect. She actually seemed quite ecstatic to have the job she did. She simply took the paper she made her notes on, running off towards the kitchens once more.

“Right, all that’s left is the dress. Eret is setting up in one of the spare rooms,” Wilbur informed, motioning towards the exit. “I’m going to help Nihachu clear this.” You looked on in amusement as Wilbur began picking up plates, finding it hilarious that a prince was taking care of dirty dishes. All the same, you didn’t say anything and left the room with Techno. He was quiet as he led you towards the spare rooms, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you need me to help with the dress?” He murmured, not exactly looking at you as he hovered outside the door. You blinked a little, processing the information. He didn’t want to help? Then you realized you were probably getting measurements taken, and who knew what else. Was he too embarrassed to help?

“I should be fine. Why don’t you go talk to your father about getting Tubbo a room here? Get him away from Schlatt,” you offered an alternative with a smile. A look of relief flooded his eyes, and he nodded.

“I’ll come get you in a while,” He informed, watching as you slid into the room. Eret smiled at you from where he was hovering over various fabrics, motioning you towards the middle of the room.

“I see everyone decided to abandon you,” he joked, picking up a strip of paper and walking towards you. All too familiar with the process that was about to happen, you lifted your arms. Eret took the paper, placing it against your arm and marking it.

“Wilbur decided to stick with Nihachu, and Techno really was trying to find a reason to not come in here,” You laughed, watching as Eret moved around, taking various measurements and marking them onto the strip he was using.

“That sounds like him. You send him off?” He leaned down, wrapping the strip around your waist snuggly.

“Told him to talk to his father about getting Tubbo one of the spare rooms in the castle, the boys mentioned it yesterday and I see why.”

“Schlatt is questionable at best. It would do Tubbo good to get away from him. I need to measure your legs,” He murmured, eyebrows furrowing. His cheeks painted pink, and he seemed to have only just realized what it entailed.

“It’s just measurements, Eret. It’s not scandalous,” you muttered reassuringly. You shifted the skirts of your dress as needed. Eret fell silent, seemingly embarrassed as he crouched in front of you to do the needed measurements on your legs. You tried your best to not laugh at how flustered he seemed, keeping any comments to yourself.

“Right, okay,” he cleared his throat, standing up and walking back towards the fabrics. You followed, peering over his shoulder. “Is this everything you were hoping for?”

“It’s… not, no. I never really planned to have a wedding with the prince of another kingdom, let alone one who was to become king. I thought I’d marry a noble in my own kingdom and live out my life there,” You explained. Eret picked up one of the white fabrics, holding it against your body and examining it. For what, exactly, you weren’t sure. Still, you let him do as he needed.

“That makes sense. Are you disappointed with this, though?” He seemed to want to talk, but you weren’t entirely against it. Not many people had cared to ask you how you felt about this whole thing. 

“No, not at all. It presents options I was never granted back home.” Eret held up a delicate lace, layering it over a fabric to hold against you.

“Good. Hopefully everything turns out as you want it to. I think that should be all now? There’s not too much to be done until the dress is actually made,” He murmured, setting the fabrics down.

“Perfect, just call on me whenever you need me to check in or anything.” You beamed, only glancing at the fabrics as he continued to shift through them. You truly trusted him on whatever he was deciding to make. Everyone here seemed competent enough, though it made you feel a little useless. You supposed all you could do truly was offer feedback, which they seemed content with. 

Techno was leaned against a wall outside the room, glancing up when you opened the door. You smiled at him, and he simply pushed off the wall, motioning towards where your rooms were. “Get changed, put on pants,” He said flatly, making you arch an eyebrow at him.

“What for, exactly?” You questioned, following him all the same.

“Unless you want to learn to fight in a dress.” He glanced at you, eyebrows raised in question. Your stomach flipped in excitement, and you desperately suppressed the urge to run to your room.

“I think pants would be better for that,” you laughed, nerves leaking through the sound. Finally, you were going to learn to fight. Next Chapter | >

[obeymebabes]

Here Kitty Kitty (Satan x MC)

Request: “A new cat cafe opens in the human world, and reader wants to go to it. Though, since they don’t want to go alone, they summon Satan to go with them.”

Warnings: Satan being obsessed with cats, still.

A/N: I really wish I could go to a cat cafe. Unfortunately I have been cursed with being allergic to cats. Honestly though, I’d probably go regardless. Death surrounded by soft kitties doesn’t sound so bad.

Summary: Going to a cat cafe alone doesn’t sound like much fun, so why not summon the biggest cat lover in Devildom to go with you?

~

“A new cat cafe in town huh?” You mumbled to yourself, looking at the flyer that had been carefully stuffed in your mailbox. 

Looking up the address on your phone, it seemed like the place wasn’t too far from your house. Though it was a nice day and the middle of the week, you weren’t sure you wanted to stroll into this new cat hangout alone. 

Instead of calling a local friend, you decided to take a much more fun route. Who better to take to a place filled with cats than the biggest cat lover you know?

Taking a breath, closing your eyes, and clearing your mind, you chanted the words that Solomon had taught you. A few moments later, appeared a slightly annoyed looking Satan, still holding the book he was reading.

“How many times do I have to tell you to message me before randomly summoning me?” He asked, a hint of anger twisting within his words.

A smile crossed your face before leaving the flyer on the table and turning around.

“Fine, I will go to the cat cafe without you. I just wanted to be nice and take you since it isn’t that far but clearly you don’t want to go.” You waited a moment before you heard the Avatar of Wrath chase after you.

“Such a place like this exists up here?” His voice was almost a whisper, still holding the flyer you had previously set down. You nodded and smirked. 

“Why would you assume such a thing? I never did state I didn’t wish to go.” His face was sincere, like a puppy, begging for another treat.

“Alright, fine, I suppose I can take you!” You smiled and grabbed his hand, causing the wrathful demon to flush a soft pink.

When you both finally made it to the door of the cafe, you watched as Satan’s face lit up by seeing the little kittens playing with each other through the window. The way his eyes glimmered while looking at the fuzzy creatures was remarkable. The small smile painted across his face. He wasn’t even inside yet, and he looked like the happiest demon alive.

You held the door open and laughed, getting his attention to quickly follow you inside. 

A kind barista greeted you with delight. “Welcome to the new cat cafe! I hope you both enjoy your time here. Can I get either of you something to drink?” 

After ordering a drink for both you and Satan, who was already preoccupied playing with the kittens, you found a spot on a couch in the corner to place your stuff for the time being. 

Once you sat down, a small gray cat jumped up into your lap and nuzzled itself into you. Unable to move, you gave in and rubbed the cat’s head. Within seconds, the cat had been purring and rubbing its head against your hand for more attention. 

Being so busy with the cat now nestled into your lap, you didn’t even notice Satan come and sit next to you. 

“I see you have made a friend.” He speaks, making you jump a little at the sudden voice so close to you. “Thank you for bringing me here. It reminds me of the time I may have accidentally brought 80 cats back to the House of Lamentation.”

This comment earns a soft laugh from you. “I’m sure Lucifer was thrilled about that.” 

“Oh yeah, there were cats everywhere. I do admit, I don’t know what I was thinking. Though can you blame me? These little guys are just the cutest.” Satan smiled as a fluffy black cat hopped up onto his lap. Immediately the cat was showered in love and affection from the blonde-haired demon.

He gently stroked the cat’s back and it meowed at him, content with the affection it was receiving. Without him realizing, you took out your D.D.D and started recording. He dipped his head down and the cat gently bumped it’s head with his. The bliss that radiated from both him and the cat was pure. If you weren’t aware that you were sitting next to a pure-blooded demon, you wouldn’t have ever known. Especially seeing how gentle he is with these creatures.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He laughed, still stroking the soft cat’s long fur. 

“Savoring the moment. Duh. You look adorable. I never imagined you could be so calm.” You commented, keeping the video rolling. Satan once again flushed pink at your kind words.

He didn’t make a snarky comment back, just simply went back to petting the black beast resting in his lap. 

You managed to get quite a few videos of him with the cuddly critters. There were videos of him playing with the kittens, cuddling with them on the sofa, even him getting overtaken by quite a few cats who had quite a liking for his attention. 

“Sir, we do offer adoptions if you are interested in taking one of these cuddly babies home with you. It does appear they have taken quite a liking to you. I think you would make one of these guys very happy.” One of the workers commented. Satan turned to you with pleading eyes. 

You quickly pulled him aside. “Lucifer would probably have a rage fit and spawn off another one of you if you brought another cat home. I can’t believe I am about to say this, but if I let you get one, I would be willing to let it stay with me. I could use the company after all. Plus I can just summon you when you want to see it. Deal?” You asked, wondering if you just made the right decision. 

“Deal.” Satan’s eyes beamed with happiness as he scooped up the fluffy black cat from earlier. The employee brought out a few adoption papers and a pen for you to sign away for your new furry friend. 

When that was all said and done, they set the cat comfortably in a box to take the new baby home. It had already been a few hours and though it wasn't too busy, you wanted to get your new pet home so they could adjust.

Despite being a fearless and cold-hearted demon most of the time, you could barely get him out of the cafe. He insisted he had to play with the kitties just a little bit longer. 

“Satan, come on, I promise we can come back tomorrow, but I think we should get your new friend home.” You pushed, trying to coax him into leaving. 

“Fine, I suppose that would be a proper plan.” Sighing as he got up, he pet a few more loving faces as he made his way to the door with you. 

“Thank you! Have a lovely day you two!” One of the workers called from the back. 

Who would’ve thought that letting Satan into a cat cafe would be so purrfect? Despite the fact that you somehow ended up coming home with a new friend to keep you company, taking the Avatar of Wrath was absolutely worth every minute.

Seeing the happiest smile of a demon who is typically considered unhappy and managing to get it all on video and in pictures was truly a sight to behold. There will definitely be more visits to the new cat hangout in the future. Hopefully though, you don’t end up with 80 cats like the House of Lamentation. 

~

[twilightwriter]

HIKING — [ EMMETT CULLEN] / [ IMAGINE ]

So this was one was long as fuck because, I have no fucking clue, I was motivated and in the mood for writing and shit — but thank you so much for requesting!

 CONTENT[S] : Fluff, the mentioning of blood, swearing.

You didn’t know how Emmett Cullen did it, but he somehow managed to talk you into a hiking trip to neighboring mountains in Forks, where a trail on the edge sat. 

And of course, without a doubt you accepted the invitation. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity after all. And you’d never again get the chance to explore different parts of Washington as much as you’d want to if you just kept to the same old boring towns, shopping areas, and most importantly, high school.

“Sure, why not?”

“Great!” Alice squealed, pleased by the acceptance of their generously eager invitation before squeezing your fragile body in her arms. “Don’t forget, tomorrow morning – we’ll take care of all of your equipment. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

You nodded, eager to get to the next class before the bell rung a third time; knowing your ass, you’re most likely to get into some kind of predicament. You and nature sometimes didn’t mix. The seagull attack on La Push, the wild badger that you tried so desperately to get out of the road on your way to Bella’s house. “I’ll set my alarm for tomorrow. You won’t be disappointed.”

And before they took their leave, you were greeted by a sweet kiss from your boyfriend, Emmett, who sported a boyish grin. You would’ve smacked him on the shoulder for expressing so much public displays of affection on school grounds, but you were too awestruck. You bid them goodbye for the day.

The family had taken care of the equipment expenses for you despite you denying their generous offers. At the moment you wished that you could express to him that you didn’t really like the mountains—the heights, the acceleration of freezing cold in harmonic combination of the usual Forks weather paired with ice and snow. Between the Olympic Mountains and the Pacific Beaches, the view was beautiful. You knew that once you got back to school you would have quite the tale to tell about your adventures with the Cullens to Jessica and Angela.

Yeah, not good for a human. The group trudged up steep mountain and loose rock. You were almost jealous that Emmett and the rest of his family were making more progress than you were in this circumstance; however, you sought to not complain throughout the trip.

“You doing okay down there, [Y/N]?” You heard the voice of Emmett calling down to your struggling form about two hours into the climb, determined, you grasped a nearby rock that looked somewhere near steady enough to climb onto, and unfortunately it wasn’t. Your limbs burned in exhaustion without the proper break.

Because of that you knew that your legs would give out soon. You plastered on an expression of feigned happiness and hollered back to the best of your ability. “Yeah! I’m f—WOOAH!”

And they did. You ended up stepping onto the wrong thing and glissaded down the mountain for a few seconds, scraping your knee up against a sharp snow-covered stone on your foreleg. After yelping in pain, you were prepared to descend downward, until a hand caught your forearm mid-fall and wrapped around your dainty wrist within an instant. The force was hard enough to break bones but somehow, this wasn’t the case. It was almost like he was terrified of the idea of you falling and him not being able to catch you.

He could smell the pungent scent of vital fluids invading his senses, slowly trickling down your leg from the inside of your hiking pants. Sought to at least cover it to a degree where it wasn’t smelled by other immortals from miles away. You could sense the feral portion of himself slowly making its way to the surface, but it suddenly subsided. Like it never existed to begin with.

If you didn’t thank vampire reflexes then, you’d certainly be thanking them now – the familiar hand was none other than Emmett Cullen’s. In spite of the immense pain that had made itself more known you were pleased to find that someone was at least paying attention to you down here. “You need to be careful there, Mrs. [L/N],” the dark-haired male teased as he pulled you into the hardness of his arms.

“Shut up,” you pouted, grasping onto his biceps as quickly as you could. Not wanting to fall the distance a second time. Your heart had jumped into your chest when you looked down at how far you’ve come. This said fall would’ve certainly been fatal. You’d clung so tightly around the man’s neck, you were certain that you’d strangle him. Your knuckles were a tainted pale white as you feared the worst for yourself. “I think we should go home for the day, I’m tired.”

The way to the Cullen residence was quick and efficient as it always was, no hassle nor complaints further. You were being carried onto the back of the strongest like some sort of Koala. And to compare body sizes, you could tell that your boyfriend was enjoying this far too much for his own good. A fire crackled in the near distance, distributing heat that you could only ever appreciate during times like this. Cold winters in Forks were never your forte, but if it meant sticking around with the one coven that you grew fond of, then so be it.

There he settled you down onto the couch in the living room where he examined your injury, rolling the denim fabric up your foreleg to inspect the damage done, causing your features to contort into one of displeasure. “You should be more careful of your surroundings.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” you argued, you’d noticed Carlisle had returned with the kit to help clean your wounds. But his eldest son insisted on doing it himself whilst you continued. “I—I was tired and I didn’t know that the stones weren’t steady.”

A shake of his head, though he was more of the class clown of the family, you’d never seen him so concerned before until now. This was entirely foreign to you and for the first time you felt babied by someone aside from your parents. You could feel the stinging of the peroxide and the light pricking of skin when he removed excess flesh from your wound as well as any rock that was leftover.

The scene in front of you nearly made you sick as he finished wrapping you up. With that in mind you kept to yourself for a while until you heard him speak up again. “You could’ve told me that you were tired and I would’ve carried you the rest of the way—”

“I didn’t want to complain because I knew that you’d want me to experience the trip. And I didn’t want to be some kind of burden.”

There was a silence after these words were said and what you didn’t expect, was for Emmett to encase his cold arms around your physique and draw you in closer to himself. It was his little way of comforting you and to say the least, you were grateful for this. He ensured to be careful and very much aware of your injury, and placed a palm against it to prevent future swelling whilst his other found purchase coiled around your waist.

“I hope you’re staying over. Because we’re going to be here for a long time, [N/N].”

[irishmacguirefucker]

O’Driscoll no more

(Kieran Culkin lives in my head rent free for no fucking reason, it made thinking about Duffy much harder. Anyways im not gonna use this to answer my kieran ask bc tbh it answered none of the anons questions, but i hope this tides them over until i do answer that one. i DO have thoughts about kierans cabin but i need to establish the beginning stuff in my head first)

Au Masterlist

TW: Castration (slight mention at the end)

Kieran didn't think he was going to the ranch with them to be honest. Dutch announced the plan not long after they started trusting him to care for the horses, which in itself is not much trust.

The speech about the ranch felt like a plan he shouldn't be hearing. If he weren’t busy being amazed by how close Mary-Beth was standing to him during all this. Sure she was holding Tilly’s hand, but she had inched close to him and caught him staring.

Instead of looking away in disgust or slapping him, she smiled at him. He swore he had never seen anything prettier in his whole life.

When the speech ended, everyone began to part ways. They all seemed to have a lot to think about, and Kieran had two more horses to brush out before bed. But just as he was about to head back up to the little campfire, Mary-Beth grabbed his arm and pulled him to the big fire with the others.

He would have protested if he weren’t so distracted by how gentle her hands were against his wrists. She sat down beside her friend and he stood awkwardly, unsure what to do.

She tugged his wrist again, and this time he got to hear her perfect voice. The one that spoke kindly to him for the first time when he got here, encouraged him to drink water while he was tied to that tree.

“Sit down Kieran, I don’t think anyone should be alone right now… Not with so much to think on and such.”

Who would he be to deny her that one request? So he sat down on her other side, and she laced her fingers with his behind them. It was silent for a while, and Kieran would have felt awkward among them if his heart weren’t pounding out of his chest.

They started talking after a while, each of them eventually agreeing to go to the ranch, and Kieran couldn’t have felt more out of place sitting around the fire. They would all go and enjoy their ranch, and Kieran would be left to wander. He hoped Colm wouldn’t find him again.

Javier played a few songs at Mary-Beth’s request, and Kieran did his best to memorize the feeling of her hand in his. He would miss her the most.

Eventually, Javier stopped singing but continued to strum the guitar softly, and then the most amazing thing happened. Slowly, Mary-Beth leaned over and rested her head on Kieran’s shoulder.

He froze up, afraid to move lest she realizes what she was doing and push him off. Surely she meant to lean the other way into Tilly? But then quietly, just by his ear, he listened to her breathing grow soft and turn into the cutest little snores he ever heard.

What kind of divine punishment was this, to have her touch him and trust him so much that she slept on his shoulder, and she would be leaving for a brand new life soon.

He finally managed to relax his muscles enough to look over and take in the sight of her sleeping, her cheek pressed into his shoulder and her soft curls spilling down his chest. She looked ethereal in the firelight, lighting up the freckles that covered her face in a delicate galaxy. He was entranced by her.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a gruff voice, nearly waking her with the way he jumped. She grumbled and pressed her face further into his shoulder, and he would have felt bad if he weren’t worried about what was going to follow Arthurs; “So, O’Driscoll-”

He looked up at the man, and he couldn’t help but expect the man to threaten him for getting so close to the young woman.

“You gonna be moving on to the Ranch with us then?”

Kieran’s brows furrowed and he answered quietly. “I-I can't say I realized that offer was bein’ extended my way, sir.”

Arthur chuckled. “Now why would you think that Duffy, we let you stick ‘round this long. And it looks like at least one of us has taken a liking to you.” He gestured to the sleeping girl.

The younger man felt his whole face heat up. Before he could answer, Arthur continued. “You should come, we’ll still need someone to help out with the horses. We’ll probably have more when we’re on our feet proper, and you just have some sorta way with ‘em.”

It was weird to hear the man pay him a compliment. He wasn’t the worst of the camp by far, but Kieran couldn’t help but be a little scared of the blonde still. “Oh, w-well thank you, Mister. I am lucky they like me so much, on account of how much I like taking care of them.”

That made Arthur chuckle, and Kieran was able to relax a little. “So will you come along then Duffy? You’d get your own room and all. Eventually anyway.”

His own room. His own possessions that weren't just the clothes on his back and the saddle on his horse. Days on end with a belly full of food and surrounded by the gentle beasts he enjoyed so much. And maybe friends. Maybe just maybe, a girl.

Mary-Beth stirred slightly, and he braced himself for the push, for her to slap him away for getting so close. She just looked up at him with her blue eyes, sparkling with firelight. “Please join us, Kieran, we want you there with us.”

He must have woken her when he jumped earlier, but he couldn’t feel guilty about it when he got to hear her voice all sleepy and soft. “I want you to come along, you deserve to be happy just as much as all of us.”

He smiled genuinely, something that didn’t happen often before he started running with the Van der Linde’s. “I suppose I can’t say no when you ask so kindly Miss Gaskill…”

She smiled so big he was sure she gave off her own sunlight. “Oh Kieran, it’s gonna be so perfect!”

She sighed in content and dragged herself to her feet. “I should head to my bed now, we’re gonna be quite busy tomorrow. Thank you for being my pillow Mister Duffy, but I oughta go to my real one. Goodnight everyone!”

Tilly said her goodnights as well, and the two girls headed to bed while Kieran sat there in awe. She had not only begged him to join them and wished him goodnight but thanked him for allowing her to sleep on his shoulder. He would never quite be able to comprehend her kindness.

“I suppose that answers that question.” Arthur chuckled, as he stood up with a grunt. “I suppose I’ll head in for the night. But you listen here Duffy,” Arthurs large hand clamped down on the sitting man’s shoulder as he leaned over, and Kieran can’t remember the last time he felt so small.

“If you hurt that girl, or cause one little tear on her face,” He leaned in closer. “I really will castrate you, and I certainly won’t need Bills damned tongs. I’ll do it with a bear trap.”

And then he stood back up straight with a crack in his back and walked to his tent leaving Kieran frozen to his spot. That little speech would certainly linger…

He couldn’t help but laugh about it a little later, only because if he ever hurt a hair on her sweet head himself, he would probably let Arthur do it happily.

[yandere-society]

The Baron

Sypnosis: You can’t believe it’s him. The man your stuffy family is forcing you to marry is this self-righteous playboy figure - Kim Seokjin. And on Valentine’s Day no less. You know that there’s more than meets the eye with this man, that he’s harboring a dark secret or something, you just don’t want him for better or for worse.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Female Reader

Word Count: 4,700+

Admin: @mintedmango​

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Trigger Warnings: Yandere-themes. Potential stalking, murder/killing.

“I’m not doing this.” You sigh, standing from the futon nestled in the study.

It was just after dinner and your spirits were low. Not to mention, you just wanted to go to bed as soon as possible. You listen to the sporadic pounding of the rain against the brick of the house, distant thunder rolling in the velvet throes of night outside. 

With a grunt, your father glances from the various papers he’s reading, a wooden pipe in his mouth with and a disapproving glare your way. He removes it from his mouth, as he narrows his eyes, finding that you were void of wearing any of the skirts your sisters like to frock around in. Instead, you are in a pair of trousers. Specifically, your hunting trousers. You’re really making a good impression on your stubborn father, aren’t you?  

“Yes. You are.” He grumbles, placing the pipe back into his mouth, fixing his gaze on his scribbled papers again. 

You grip the handle of the door to the study firmly before turning around on your heel. You furrow your brows, the air in the usually calm and peaceful study becoming suffocating with what is silently stirring in the air. 

“No. I’m not.” You snort, shaking your head a little.

“Yes. You are.” Your father responds in a dry manner, not looking at you this time. 

Your nostrils flare, emotions heating up past the point of no return. Stomping your boots across the carpeting, you huff over to your father's desk, folding your arms across your blouse in defiance. “I’m not marrying anyone and I’m not marrying the likes of him, pa.”

“Y/N-“ He sighs, taking his pipe out from under his mustache once again, pinching his brows in between his fingers with his free hand. 

“Listen to me!” You burst out yelling as you slam your hands on his desk. The ink for his pen and your father himself jump at the harsh action. There's a fire in your eyes and your palms sting a little. You are clenching your teeth, while your eyes are brimming with tears, and your stomach in knots and your heart is breaking because your family is basically selling you off to a wealthy family in exchange for estate money. “You can’t make me, pa!” You scream, the tears now escaping your sockets as they travel down to your hot cheeks as you try and fight for your last chance for freedom in your home. “I have a life to live and things to do! I-“ 

“I’m not talking about this anymore, Y/N!” Your father yells back at you, standing to his intimidatingly full height. Lightning illuminates his looming, tall figure in the windows behind him. His eyes bore down on you and your mouth parts in shock. “You’re marrying into the Kim family tomorrow and that’s final.” That’s the last thing he says before you leave the study in an emotional flurry, slamming the door to not only the study but to the last night you have of freedom. 

This has to be the worst day of your life, you think as you fly up the stairs. The house might be asleep from the storm outside, but they would surely be shaken awake from your feet pounding up the wooden stairs and the heavy, short screams that fly out of your mouth. You feel like a child not getting its way, but you really had never felt so insignificant in your life before. 

- A Month Or So Before - 

“A letter came for you today, Lady Y/L/N.” The young butler of the house, Mingyu, calls to you as soon as you enter the house. You just returned back to the house from going on a ride on your trusty horse. The chill of the bitter, cold January wind makes your blood race in your veins as you explore the countryside on your loyal steed, Midnight. The trees, this time of year, weren’t the prettiest - completely bare even - but, nevertheless, you enjoyed the open skies and clean air the beginning of the month brings to the wood. Your family hates when you ride so you saddle up your stead when they are conveniently out of the house. But you know that Midnight enjoys it just as much as you do: the freedom, the chilly stinging wind whipping your face as he gallops down the muddy path toward god knows where. 

“A letter?” You ask the taller butler, taking off your cloak, riding gloves and handing them to the smaller one, Jihoon, who takes them silently with a small smile gracing his features. “For me?” You rarely got mail, and if you did, it was from your grandparents overseas, not from anyone remotely close in distance to you. You couldn’t feel more shocked when you can’t place where the crest was from? Was it a secret admirer? You wonder as you run your fingers over the wax bird, seemingly waiting for the creature to reach out and speak to you.

“Yes,” He nods with a wide grin, handing you the closed scroll with a raven crested wax seal you don’t recognize, and you are about to break it when Mingyu says this: “It was sent directly from the Kim Manor.” 

Your blood that is now pumping, fiery hot freezes to the ice in your veins. Your eye sockets expand, breath hitching as you stand, unmoving, in the foyer of the giant home. 

“Wha-Which Kim Manor, Mingyu?” You puff out a shaky breath, not meeting his gaze.

“Lady Y/L/N?” Jihoon asks up to you as you stare at the raven in the seal. You say nothing as you wait for the taller’s reply.

The blood-red colored wax you are staring at makes you uncomfortable, the little hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention for some reason. The raptor is glowering at you. It’s beady eyes menacing and distant pressed into the wax. You fear it would turn to life and peck your eyes out, as you know the contents of the letter are inherently evil. 

“Kim Manor on Ravenwood Hill, my Lady.” Mingyu nods as he watches your face morph into one of pure terror now. 

“Why would he send me a letter?” You whisper, hands starting to tremble as you slice open the seal with your bare hands. Ouch. Paper cut. “Tsk.” A trickle of blood slips down your pointer finger as Jihoon voices a grunt of concern, handing you his handkerchief. Your timid yet hungry eyes scan the letter and you immediately want to vomit.  You see the words COURTING, MARRIAGE, ESTATE, AND MONEY scribbled in beautiful penmanship and you immediately know that you are doomed. You drop the letter and scamper away to your room whilst the butlers try not to pry during the day too much, until your father comes home the next day and wonders why you are huddled up in your room. 

You never expected this. Not from any man and certainly not from one as well known as he is. 

Kim Seokjin, the Baron of Ravenwood Hill Manor wanted to be your husband and he wanted the marriage post-haste. 

———-

You stand corrected. Today - Valentine's Day - is the worst day of your adult life. 

The heavy chatter and laughter rings throughout the grand, gold ballroom of Ravenwood Manor, filling your head already dizzy with each cackle your mother makes or each drunken toast your father hiccups. The pins your maid Anna has shoved in your hair are making your skull throb from the headache this night is giving you. It was far too tight and stuffy. Your white skirts were far too tight, your breath hitching with every gross restriction of your corset under your elaborate blouse. Your body was so uncomfortable you could barely think, let alone have a proper intelligent conversation with anyone in this room. 

Not that you would want to.

The men and women here you barely know or know nothing about. You could care less about what anyone has to say or their insight on anything. You barely could smile at all the single women in here, as they were shooting daggers at you with their sharp eyes. You hate that you are standing out, wearing this ghastly bright white color. 

A waiter passes by and offers the men beside you champagne, and you bristle whilst you snatch a glass off the gold leaf tray. They eye you with concern as you down the bittersweet drink down your parched throat. 

With a shift from foot to foot wrapped up in heels that rub the skin on the back of your ankle, you sigh, slinking away from the party that was thrown for you. Well, let’s be honest here. It was mostly for him… your husband. Oh, how you loathe that word. Husband. 

“Y/N,” comes the soft, melodious voice of the town's biggest playboy to the side of you, slipping his cold fingers into yours. 

You can’t help but stiffen with a sharp inhale. 

Kim Seokjin, the man who makes men jealous and women weep in his wake, wraps his arm lightly around our waist, guiding you gently to the middle of the ballroom, towards the sea of unfamiliar people. All your body wants to do is run away right now, slip out of this room and find some place to hide. But you do not know this house, nor do you know the people inside of it so you remain trapped in between these four walls with these abhorrent people. 

Not mention… husband. 

He was beautiful, there was no doubt about this. God knew what he was doing when he played a part in creating such a broad-shouldered, puffy-lipped, tall, and charismatic human. You hadn't given him much thought though, because every single woman in the country knows who the dark-haired beauty is and wants a piece of him or his money. There were several Kims in the surrounding area (the Kim’s of Southaven (Namjoon was the closest child they have to you in age) and the Kim’s of Stone Bridge (Taehyung has invited you a few social gatherings as well) but, none was more wealthy, more powerful than The Kim’s of Ravenwood Hill. Their presence was mounting and overwhelming. The men were powerful and entrepreneurs and were to be feared. At least, your father did. Even the women of the family name are influential and that was compelling for you.

But, if you were a man this wouldn’t be happening. If you had a penis, you would get to choose who your bride wanted to be and that was final. If only you had that power, the power to choose for yourself. If only...

You gulp and nod. You can’t meet his piercing gaze though you feel his rich eyes boring into your skin, creating a hole in his wake. “Y/N, come and meet my brother.” You realize right away, it wasn’t a question. 

It was a gentle demand. 

You give another small nod as the pins in your head are starting to push against your skull further, or maybe the throbbing of your brain against its skull was reaching its peak. The music playing from somewhere in the room swells, the laughing increases and you seriously want to faint. It’s too loud, too bright, and the smoke from all the cigars smell too sour in here. 

“Are you feeling ill?” The baron asks you quietly. 

To anyone watching the newlywed couple of Seokjin and yourself, it would seem like a tender moment of him leading you through the crowd. With his arm around your waist, slightly leaned over you with a smile of adoration upon his face. Women might coo and men might nod their heads as they watch you trek through the sea of people. 

But, that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t as loving and as sweet as it may look from afar. 

Your palms were sweaty, blood incredibly icy and stagnant in your veins. You know that Seokjin hasn’t been able to take his amber-colored eyes off of you. He’s been staring, boring a hole into your head this whole day. Sure, it’s been your wedding day as well as Valentine’s Day (plus your first, real interaction with him), so it was only natural that he would be infatuated with you. But you know his eyes aren’t holding you in that regard. They aren’t shining with adoration or affection. 

It was something else. Something misplaced. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it though. 

“Seokmin,” The baron of the estate chirps behind you casually, breaking you from your thoughts. “This is Y/N. Seokmin, this is my wife.” He uses his free hand to sweep the empty air, brandishing you off to his younger brother. 

His brother looks like him with the raven-colored hair and puffy-lipped smile, smaller in frame and not as broad, but he still looks like his older siblings. “How do you do?” He smiles with a small bow and you are inclined to give a small grin one back. “It’s exciting to finally meet you.” He turns his body to the woman with her back turned to him, tapping her shoulder as she laughs, turning to face the group. “This is my wife, Mary.”

She’s beautiful, stunning and charming, with long blonde curls and thick fluttering lashes and by the looks of it, she looks like she is bearing a child. 

“Pleasure,” Mary smirks, looking up and down at your white get up. Those judgmental eyes...

Your cheeks heat in an instant: this is not where you want to be right now. 

“How are you finding Ravenwood Manor in comparison to your former home?” Seokmin asks softly, as Mary threads her fingers in between his. 

“It’s huge.” You chuckle, trying to find an intelligent thing to say to these self-righteous people. “I haven’t had time to see much of it but the outside is just as impressive as the inside is.” You smile, trying to fake your way through this. “The halls and artwork are so elaborate, I’m sure you paid a hefty sum for the big floral vase by the staircase.”

Seokmin’s eyebrows hit his forehead as he watches you talk. “Oh, are you passionate about the arts, Y/N?”

Seokjin’s grasp tightens around your waist ever so slightly. You gulp, still feeling his sharp gaze upon the side of your face. “O-Oh yes!” You chuckle. “Nothing makes me happier than an impressionist painting.” You smile, revealing a small piece of your heart to the family you were shipped away to. 

Seokmin nods as he smiles, earnestly listening to you speak. “So, who is your favorite for that era-“

“When can we expect a child?” Mary quips from next to her husband, who shoots her a curious gaze. You stiffen. The “C” word makes you stiffen once more. That’s the last thing on your mind and also the last thing you wanted to do with… him. Does he even want that? His fingers grip your hips and you shift on your heels uncomfortably. How many women has he had under him already? And why did he pick you of all people? When you look back at Mary, her orbs are full of malice for some reason, throwing a drawer full of sharp knives at you. “That’s more important than art, you know, having a whole lineage of children-“

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question, Mary.” Seokjin cuts her off, tone pointed at her as her eyes bug out of her head. The aura is dark above you, the stiff and suffocating air around you feels like its tightening its grip on your head. You can feel the grip he had on your arm tighten and you gulp looking back up to him. He’s frowning with such disgust at his brother’s wife, amber eyes sharp and focused on her as if to say back off. Instead he rebuttals rather calmly, “Did anyone ask you that on your wedding day?” 

She says nothing as she moves away from the group to go mingle about the crowd. 

Seokmin sighs as he smiles apologetically at you. “I apologize for her brash behavior. This is our first, so she has children on the brain.” He chuckles and it sounds uncomfortable and forced. 

You shake your head. “I understand.” You don’t, smiling through a lie that you roll with. 

A certain pair of eyes doesn’t miss the way you grin and bear it. He couldn’t stand anyone talking to you like that. And for his brother to just brush off his wife’s distasteful behavior, it makes his skin crawl, his blood boil trapped under his skin.

Seokjin would take care of them. 

You don’t deserve the scum of the earth, the harlots and undesirables looking at you, let alone talking to you. You are good and light and follow the beat of your own drum. You are pure, especially today, dressed from head to toe in the finest of fabrics Seokjin could find. He would do anything for you. He would cleanse the earth five times over just so he could get rid of vile humans who are full of garbage and deceit. Just like those pathetic men who gazed upon you in ill will at parties or talked bad about you in social settings. 

Seokjin would take care of them. 

Seokjin DID take care of them. He had had enough when he had learned she had a young admirer from Bridgestone named Park Jimin. He had to. Seokjin just had to cage you, a beautiful songbird that only craved freedom. He would give it to you of course, in moderation. He decided to do what he could with his power and status of the baron: hide you away from the world, make you his, his one and only. 

You are a queen. He knew this as soon as he saw you fly by on your horse down the dirt path months ago. You were only meant for your king which was of course Seokjin. A bird so rare, so stunning he had to have you as his prize. 

And he made sure all the people of this town knew it.

You were his, for better or for worse, you were Kim Seokjin’s.  

-

The celebration continues into the rest of the night, making you grow weary from not going to bed at your usual time. You haven’t realized that the clock was about to strike midnight when the last few people leave the Ravenwood Manor at such a late hour. Seokjin and a butler escort them to the front door, giving you another moment of freedom for the evening. The maids and butlers of the house all come to collect the dishes and trays and take them back to the throes of the kitchen, probably a tad angry it was so late for them as well. 

You slump on an ornate chair, shoes coming off as you rifle through the gems of your skirts, knowing the heel had sliced your ankles. You may be a sweaty, smelly mess, the fireplace just about snuffed out, but you loved the warmth of the flames in the hearth all the while. 

You close your eyes as the staff whizzes around you silently. It’s hard to keep your eyes open. You are just so sleepy. 

Oddly, you didn’t mind that Seokjin stood by your side most of the evening. He only left when he was saying goodbye to his brother and his wife, escorting them out of the room and not returning some time after that. For some reason, you missed him during that period of time. It made your face flush and butterflies roll around in your stomach as you thought about him during his absence. 

Kim Seokjin. A playboy figure huh? He didn’t seem that bad, but this was really the first time you had interacted with him. Everything you heard about him seemed to be gossip and slander at this point. Seokjin was attentive and kind to your desires. He took control of most of the awkward conversations, but always let you speak and never talked over you. It was endearing. Alluring even. You figured for someone of his caliber he would be ignoring you for the rest of his life, not watching you or fetching you drinks, not checking up on you throughout the night or dancing for a few moments in the middle of the ballroom.

Of course, this could all just be an act, a show, for all the lords and ladies he is the Baron over. 

But, you didn’t think it was. You didn’t think he was as low of a guy as everyone around you claimed him to be. 

“Lady Kim?” Your stomach pits at your new last name. You peek an eye open. “Shall I draw you a bath?” A small maid asks you, concern on her face. 

You shake your head. “No, thank you though.”

“Lord Kim insisted though...” she trails off, looking into the doorframe where your husband was last seen. 

You sigh getting up. Time to see with how much I can get away with Lord Kim, you chuckle to yourself in your head. You wince once you stand, your feet hurting immensely. “Please, just show me to my room and I’ll take one in the morning.” You give a wry smile as another maid rushes by with some slippers for you. 

“V-Very well.” She mumbles as she leads you with an oil lamp up the darkened staircase in the east wing of the building, rushing you to the other end of the house. 

It’s certainly huge in here. You should have known Ravenwood Manor would be grand and wide with ornate decor placed perfectly all over the home. Pieces of art of all forms from portraits to paintings hand on the maroon walls. The dim light from the oil lamp makes the large home seem eerie like something was going to spring out and startle you clean out of your skin. You wonder if there were haunts or dark secrets of the home? Sometimes big houses, as grand and proper as they are, hold a vast amount of knowledge about the inhabitants of the house. Past and present. 

“Just down here, my lady.” The maid says quietly, and you wonder if there were more people in the home than just Seokjin, the staff, and yourself. 

Speaking of Seokjin, you briefly wonder if Seokjin has the same tastes as you do? Does he like honey on his toast or does he prefer jam? Does he like the violin or does he prefer the piano? Does he like ragtime music or was he still a fan of the classical genre? Did he enjoy novels or was he a dreamer of a grander life? Was he progressive and enjoyed picture shows or was he a live performance kind of man? Was he into the electric light or was he stuck with these oil lamps and candles for the rest of his life? Did he prefer bitter candy or sweet things? Or was he a man who wasn’t so cut and dry - not so black and white? What was he like? 

Who was the real Kim Seokjin? 

“We are here, my lady.” The quiet maid whispers as she opens the door to a marvelous bedroom that had an oil lamp already running next to the bed, illuminating the stunningly decorated space. You walk into the dim room, eyes drinking in the lavish silks of the curtains. There’s even a small couch and chair close to the vanity in here! You were loving the way your new space was decorated with reds and golds, reminiscent of the raven seal he sent you with the letter asking for your hand in marriage. “Lord Kim has asked you to wear what is on the bed.” 

Your eyes widen, mouth parting in shock, heart dropping to the ornate carpet on the hardwood. The maid closes the door softly, leaving you to stew in the wake of your realization. 

You’ve forgotten what happens on the night of your wedding day. 

You shake your head. You don’t want to do this, but you want to get out of these white garments as soon as possible. You gulp with a shaky breath, feet leading you to the bed to scope out the silk peach slip. You look back at the door, finding it void of a lock which worries you that someone will burst through it and catch you in a vulnerable state. Your hands start to tremble as you reach for the back of your blouse, untying the strings that hold the fabric, binding it together. Luckily, you can get yourself out of the white dress and easily shimmy into the night slip without any help. Just as you fold the white as snow dress over the chair in the corner, there is a soft knock on the wooden door. 

“My lady?” The melliferous voice of your husband voices through the door. 

You stiffen. 

Oh no. Your jaw hardens, biting down on nothing. It’s time. 

“Y/N?” He asks again through the wood, concern laced in his tone. 

“Y-Yes?” You nearly yelp as he opens the door with the confirmation of your voice. 

He opens the door is his own dressed down nightwear, mostly black, making his skin and eye color pop. Seokjin’s features and demeanor are non-threatening, soft and pleasant as he just shuts the door to the room. He smiles softly, those puffy lips pulled in a genuine curve of his lips.

“I just wanted to see you were alright this evening.” He nods to the vanity, pointing to the top of his head. “You want me to...” You cock your head to the side, furrowing your brows with the slant of your mouth. “Your… hair?” 

“Oh! Um… yes!” You awkwardly walk to the vanity as you visibly see his smile growing wider down at you. 

He pulls out the plush red velvet seat, waiting patiently with those gentle eyes that pierce through your rough exterior. You sit, wondering if he has another motive? Not that you can do a thing about your situation, so you nervously fight with your hands, looking at Seokjin through the mirror of the vanity. 

“You looked beautiful tonight.” He practically purrs as he delicately removes the pins that are stabbing your head, gently. “Well, from what I’ve heard about you,” his smile curves further up his flawless face, “you are always beautiful, my lady.” Seokjin’s eyes are not focused on you for once but are intently staring at your twisted up strands as he works to remove the torturous devices Anna slotted into your locks. “These must have been uncomfortable for you huh?” He asks, amber-colored eyes flickering up to find yours in the glass and you nod slightly. 

“Y-Yes.” You agree and he snorts a squeaky chuckle.

“You won't have to wear these again if you don’t want to.” There’s a slight pause and you miss the smirk his pillowing lips curve into as you are gazing the pin he places on the vanity top next to you. 

“What?” Your eyes nearly bug out of their sockets with how large they have expanded. He silently continues to take your pins out of your hair and place them on the marbled counter as you start to gather your thoughts. “S-Seokjin, I-“

“Pardon my intrusion, my lady, but you are free under my care.” Your hair starts to fall as he talks directly to you, making your heart flutter. “You are free to roam, to ride on your horse, to do as you please. But,” most of your hair is falling out of the pinned twists you have shown off all night. You want to scream and shout, your husband was a good person. You knew he wasn’t a terrible person. Oh, phooey to that gossip and slander that is not true. “In exchange,”  Seokin’s voice dips an octave lower, “you can never look at another again.” Your heart stops beating, eyes widening. “I won’t allow it.” His voice is low, commanding you to be focused solely on him and the dark aura that seemingly rises off his body. “You have to love me.” He pulls the last pin and your hair falls to pool around your shoulders. His long, pale fingers trail over your freed locks, letting him run his warm hands through your hair. “And only me.”

——————

[thejollyroger-writer]

To Serve and Protect - Chapter 4

y’all, this is just about my favorite chapter ever. enjoy. please don’t yell too much. 

SUMMARY: Detective Killian Jones has been investigating a stalker-turned-murderer for months by the time he goes home from the bar with Emma Swan. But when he thinks he sees the very man in question outside her apartment, can he separate his feelings for her and his need to keep her safe?

TRIGGERS: well, this is a fic about a serial killer. mentions of violence and death, with some physical violence/whump coming in this chapter. as always, if you need me to discuss this further for you to be comfortable, message me. – rated teen for later chapters

Prologue // Ch. 1 // Ch. 2 // Ch. 3 // Ch. 4 on AO3

-- -- -- -- 

She feels like she’s moving in water. Something’s not right — in fact, something is terribly wrong. She shouldn’t — she shouldn’t be here. She knows where here is, knows that she’s been here before, but she can’t place it. 

Everything is wrong. 

Everything is… hazy. Foggy. It’s hot. It’s — dear god, it’s way too hot. Is that why she can’t see? 

Breathe, Emma, she thinks. She thinks it, but that doesn’t help much. It’s like there’s something pressing on her lungs, something holding her down. She has to get a hold of herself, she has to, because if she doesn’t… 

It’s like she’s been here before. Not just in this situation, but in this… She tries to look around, to figure out where she is, because she knows she’s been here before. 

That’s when she hears it. It chills her to the bone, hearing it again after so long, but it’s a sound that she will never forget. A sound that’s haunted her nightmares for years. Because a laugh like that is something that she will never forget. 

“What did you do?” she says, but her voice is wrong — it’s not coming from her, but from somewhere else. 

He laughs again, a laugh that she feels in her spine. Pulls the cigarette out from between his teeth and passes it down the line, to Felix, who uncrosses his arms and takes it from him. His eyes never leave hers. None of them do, the whole semi-circle standing around her watching her from the chair. 

“Oh, Ems,” he says finally, barking out a laugh as he crosses his arms over his chest. “You have to know that it has nothing to do with you, right?” 

“What does that even mean?” It’s her voice, she feels the words in her throat, but she’s still not the one saying them. 

In place of an answer, Neal checks his wrist, a smile spreading across his lips. No, no, not — not a smile. A smirk? He looks back at her, silent. 

“Neal, what is going on?” Her voice gets caught in her throat, choking back a sob. “Please, baby, tell me what’s happening.” 

“Oh, baby ,” he says, an obvious air of humor in his voice. 

Emma finds none of this funny. 

“You fell for it,” he says, leaning closer to her. She can smell the cigarettes on his breath, which he knows she hates but never stopped doing anyway. “All of it, like the scared little girl you are,” he whispers. He smiles. 

“Neal,” she sobs, feeling it in her throat even though it’s still not where the sound is coming from. 

There’s a knock on the basement door — that’s where she is, in the basement of the big house — and Rufio opens it, revealing two police officers. 

“Mr. Gold?” one of them calls, and everyone turns towards Neal. 

His aura changes immediately, turning from the criminal Emma now knows him to be and back to the ambassador’s son. He straightens his shoulders, pushes his hair back into a more proper style. “Yes, thank you for coming out so quickly, officers.” His voice is less harsh, more serious. He smiles at them, but something is off. 

One of the officers returns his smile, obviously taken by his charm . Emma feels the words he’s going to say before he says them, like ice running through her veins: “Well, when we get a call for a citizen’s arrest from the ambassador’s house, it’s a bit of a priority.” 

Citizen’s arrest. 

“You fell for it.” 

Suddenly, she fears she may lose the contents of her stomach. 

No, no , not quite. She… knows she’s going to lose the contents of her stomach. 

“You’ll find the stolen watches in the truck of her car,” Neal tells them. “The yellow bug just out these doors. And I think —” he turns to her, as if he wasn’t already totally sure of the answer. “I think she’s also wearing one, too.” 

The bastard . The total, absolute, god damned bastard. He knows full well she’s wearing one because he put it there himself just the night before, sitting next to her in the park overlooking the harbor. “Just one more day,” he had told her, tightening the band around her wrist. “Tomorrow I’m getting my affairs in order and then we can go wherever you want.” 

Bastard. 

“No, no, please,” she says, her sobs getting caught in her-throat-but-not- her -throat again. “You don’t understand.” She doesn’t even try to fight them, knows there’s no use trying to fight with the officers. 

If Neal stole those watches — which wouldn’t surprise her anymore — they are in the back of her car. It was part of their getaway plan, selling the watches, though he told her they were gifts . Just like the one he gave her — a gift . 

“I’ll - I’ll tell you everything.” It’s the truth. She is going to tell them everything, all she knows about Neal, but whether they’ll believe her or not is a different story. She’s 17, a minor, an orphan. She has no one, no ambassador father to pay for a big shot lawyer. All she has is the truth , and it’s useless. 

“Please, no, no,” she says, but it’s — wrong. Suddenly everything is wrong, This isn’t — Neal’s laughter, the cigarette smoke, the laughs from the police officers — the laughs from the police officers? “Please, please, no.” 

She screams, bolts upright, wipes the sweat from her forehead. 

Takes a deep breath. 

A nightmare . 

“Christ, Emma,” she whispers, her heart pounding in her throat.

She lays back down, trying to steady her breath as she kicks the comforter off of her legs. 

The comforter? She doesn’t own a comforter. What the—

Killian. She remembers it all at once, the detective, the apartment, the almost-pseudo-dating. The stalker. Is that why she’s had a nightmare about Neal? The first she’s had in… years, really, she realizes, running her fingers through her hair. 

She can’t steady her breath, she can’t regulate her heartbeat. She can’t — she squeezes her eyes shut — she can’t breathe. 

Would it be insane to — She shakes her head, sets it back down against the pillow, and tries to close her eyes again. 

But it’s like her senses are on high alert. Every movement, every creak of the foundation, the wind outside the windows, everything restarts the pounding of her heart. 

She knows what she has to do. When she opens the door to Killian’s bedroom, she’s surprised to see light shining from the lamp on the table behind him, though the book that he was obviously reading when he fell asleep has fallen on the floor. As quietly as she can, she moves across the living room before reaching to pick the book up off the floor. The cover is worn, obviously both aged and well-loved, but she can make out the words on the cover: 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea . It pulls a smile to her face, thinking about a young Killian reading this very novel, packing it in his bag for every move she knows he’s gone through. 

And then he moves on the couch, a groan slipping either from his lips or from the springs beneath him, and Emma remembers what brought her out here in the first place, sitting on the arm of the couch by his head.

“Killian,” she whispers, running her fingers through his hair, startling him awake and calming him all at the same time. “Killian, I can’t sleep.” 

It takes him a moment to wake up entirely, but when his eyes meet hers, a soft smile crosses his face. “Aye, love, I’ve been graced with the same affliction. How do you think I can help you?” 

She pauses for a moment, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth before whispering, “Come sleep with me? Please?” 

It was the answer he’s been waiting for, but he is able to hold himself back from jumping off the couch. Instead, he just smiles before slowly standing up. “Of course.” 

Yes, it’s everything he’s wanted over the past few days, the chance to wrap his arms around her and tell her that everything is going to be okay, but when granted the opportunity, he finds himself unable to do anything, curling up on the edge of the bed as far from her as he can. Sure, she asked him to join her, but he in no way believes that to mean she wants the same. Just because they spent the first night together, just because she asked her to join him tonight, doesn’t make him assume that she is comfortable continuing their relationship the same way. She stays on her side for a few minutes, the room as silent as it is dark, until he hears her turn towards him, resting her cheek against his back. 

“You are allowed to touch me, you know.” The words are soft, whispered against the fabric of his tee-shirt, and all that he needs. He turns to her, wrapping her in a hug, her face pressed into his chest.

“I’m scared, Killian,” she whispers after a few minutes of silence, almost hoping that he has fallen asleep and doesn’t hear the confession. 

Instead, he moves his lips against her hair, inhaling her warm, inviting scent before responding, “I know, love. You have more than enough right to be. And I am, too, but I’m here for you.”

Though both of them move a few times to get comfortable, it is still the first night in what feels like weeks that Killian finds sleep quickly, finally a night when the visions that haunt his nightmares stay buried, peaceful until the light of the morning sun shines through the shades. 

(He has all intention of making her breakfast in the morning, but she has other plans, waking him up before his alarm with her lips against his neck and her hand slowly trailing down his stomach. He settles for a cup of coffee from Granny’s — again — but he’s certainly not complaining.)

“H—hey,  Jacinda,” Henry stutters, leaning up against the counter where she’s focused on the crossword puzzle in front of her, only half-paying attention to her dinner in front of her and the few customers in the diner. 

She hums, not turning towards him right away, before: “Do you know anything about basketball?” 

It’s just about the last thing he expects, and he snaps his mouth shut, any of his follow-up questions disappearing. “What?” 

“Basketball. There’s — I’m stuck on this clue, and I can’t figure it out, or anything around it.” 

“Well, what’s the clue?” he asks, pulling his cell phone from his back pocket. “I can—” 

“No!” she practically yells, almost smacking the device out of his hand, and he gawks up at her until a smile grows across her features. “That’s — you can’t do that, Henry, that’s cheating.”

He returns her smile, a soft blush rising to his cheeks. “Well, I don’t know anything about basketball, but maybe Killian can help? If you’d like to join us?”

She smiles, and he feels his heart rise up his throat. He’s had a crush on her for a while, almost for as long as he’s been back in Storybrooke, but he’s never done anything about it. 

Apparently the push that he needs to ask a girl out is a serial stalker. Great. 

“That would be great.” She takes the crossword and her glass of water, with Henry grabbing her plate of pasta before she has the chance to ask for help. He slides into the seat first, thankful that Emma and Killian have chosen to sit beside each other the past few days, and gives Jacinda the outside in case her dinner break ends early, though doubtful with how few patrons are in the diner. 

“I hope you don’t mind if I join you,” she says, though Emma is already smiling at her. 

“Of course, Miss Vidrio,” Killian says with a smile of his own. “You’re always welcome to join us.” 

“She was wondering if you know anything about basketball,” Henry says, which makes one of Killian’s eyebrows rise high on his forehead. 

“Not much, I’m afraid,” he says with a shrug. “But I’ll give it a shot.” 

Jacinda nods, turning her attention back down to the newspaper in front of her. “Okay, uh,” she mumbles, running her finger down the list of clues until she finds the one she’s looking for, then nods again. “ The NBA’s ‘Round Mound of Rebound ,” she reads. “Second letter is an a .” She turns her attention back to Killian, who shakes his head, so she turns to Henry. 

He just shrugs. 

And then Emma laughs, and every eye at the table turns to her. 

“Charles Barkley.” 

“What?” Jacinda says, trying to hold back a smile, but she turns her attention back down to the crossword puzzle. “I never took you for a sports fan.” 

Henry and Killian both laugh, and Emma leans back against the seat. 

“I’m not, really,” she says with a shrug, but that obviously doesn’t answer any of their questions — though she makes no move to explain, turning her attention instead towards Jacinda’s crossword puzzle. They’re still waiting on her to elaborate when Ruby steps in front of their table with a huff, seemingly frazzled even though the restaurant only has a handful of patrons. 

“Do you guys know what you want?”

With a laugh, Killian says, “I want to know why Emma knows so much about the NBA.” 

Ruby does not look impressed by Killian’s joke, but when she glances at Emma, the smirk on her face draws a smile on her own. 

Shaking her head, Emma sighs. “David is a huge basketball fan. And James likes football. But David used to have a poster of Barkley in his room, and it had that nickname as the caption. We used to make jokes about it all the time. Now, if you’re done interrogating me about my childhood, I think Ruby wants to take our dinner order.” 

If it weren’t for the stalker, Killian would go so far to say the next week and a half pass rather blissfully , with he and Emma able to develop a somewhat… normal relationship. On days when he has the time, he meets her somewhere for lunch — and even on days when he can’t take a formal lunch break, she sometimes shows up at the precinct with sandwiches for him and Henry. 

His life is almost normal. His favorite nights are nights like tonight, when he is able to cook for her. It’s something that he’d forgotten how much he enjoys, and between the beautiful mid-morning sun lighting up the farmers’ market set up in the park and the soft grey sundress that Emma found in the back of her closet that morning, it’s the best Saturday afternoon he’s had in a while, just spending time with her and gathering everything they need to make his mother’s chicken florentine recipe for dinner that night, joined by David and Mary Margaret and Henry and Jacinda; and even though, every once in a while, he catches a movement at the edge of his vision that makes his heart skip a beat and his stomach rise to this throat, he is able to convince himself that they’re nothing, that he has nothing to worry about — and that the stalker would never dare to attack them in such a public place. 

And he’s right. They make it through the afternoon without a problem — burgers for lunch, ice cream enjoyed under the shade of the park trees, plus stopping for a bottle of wine to share later, after the rest of their guests have left. The whole afternoon around Storybrooke, and no problems. 

When they get back to his apartment, however, it’s another story altogether. The door is open, Killian’s first sign that there’s a problem, and he hands the grocery bags to Emma so he can pull his pistol out from underneath his tee-shirt. 

“Call Graham,” he says, also handing her his phone. “Tell him it’s you and that we need backup.” 

Trying — and failing — to swallow the lump in her throat, she nods, setting the bags on the hallway floor to take his phone out of his hand. “Please be careful. We can — we can wait for them to get here.”

“No,” he says, his voice stern, but she doesn’t fail to notice the slight tremble in his hands as he holds this pistol out in front of him. “Just call.” 

The ice cream was a mistake, she tells herself, trying to keep it down as she finds Graham’s name on his contact list. 

“Sheriff Humbert.” 

“Graham, it’s me — it’s Emma,” she stutters, managing to keep down her lunch as Killian slowly pushes the door to the apartment open. “We need backup at Killian’s apartment, he thinks — someone’s here, he thinks it’s the stalker.” 

“Of course. Right away.” Graham sighs. “But why are you calling me? Where’s Jones?” 

“He’s in the apartment.”

This time, the noise he makes is less of a sigh and more of a groan. “Bloody hell,” he mumbles, which, in any other circumstance, would probably make Emma smile. 

But now, it just chills her. 

“We’ll be there right away.” 

“Thank you, Graham,” she replies, then hangs up the phone. 

Her heart pounds, slowly making its way up her throat with each moment that silence alone comes from the apartment. But it’s nothing compared to how she feels when instead, there’s the sound of two gunshots.

tagging: @shireness-says​​​ @kmomof4​​ @thisonesatellite​​ @let-it-raines​​ @wellhellotragic​​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​ @stahlop​​ @teamhook​​ @snowbellewells​​ @carpedzem​​ @pepperspotts​​ @imlaxdris71​​ @gingerchangeling​​ @lfh1226-linda​​ @kday426​​ @scientificapricot​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​ @itsfabianadocarmo​​ @galadriel26​ @jennjenn615​ @therealstartraveller776​ @nightskylover​ @xarandomdreamx​ @kristi555 @nikkiemms​ @vvbooklady1256​ @withheartfulloflove​ -- if you want to be added or removed, please let me know

[carbrakes-and-stakes]

Walk on the Wild Side - Oscar and Alain

Timing: a few nights ago

Parties: @forfuchssake & @carbrakes-and-stakes

Summary: Having just arrived in town, Oscar decides to roam around at night looking for coworkers.

In a new town, Oscar always liked roaming around to get a lay of the land. With the full moon past, he figured it was a good time to get a lay of the local cemeteries. While he wasn’t a Slayer, he hated the down time in between full moons. Spending his evenings at home or at the local bar got old too quickly. He craved the rush of adrenaline that came with a good fight and somehow it had gotten him this far. It was why he had an amused grin on his face as he noticed another man walking around the cemetery with a broadsword. Subtle. He could respect that. It looked like he was about to take on a zombie. As much as he was itching to fight, he observed for a moment. He was ready to jump in at any moment, but the other hunter seemed to have the situation under control. 

“Dude, gross. That’s someone’s grandmother,” wrinkling his nose, the hunter shook his head in clear disapproval as he watched the zombie push the lid of a tombstone off. His sword in hand, Alain raised his eyebrows, wondering if this time he would have to run after that guy or if the zombie would try to fight him instead. Either way, that zombie would meet his end, and he would spend a few more moments not thinking about Evelyn, or Audrey, or anything that had been rough on his mood lately. “And he’s running,” chasing someone with a sword was not ideal, but it would have been worse had he opted for a hanging scabbard. He had made that mistake once. Never again. The zombie might have been fast, he didn’t know this cemetery as well as the hunter did, and when it came to avoid slippery paths, Alain was an expert. Approaching the zombie who had fallen to the floor, he was quick to put his foot on his chest, once again shaking his head. “The good thing is, this is not going to hurt. At least that’s what my notes say,” with those not so reassuring words, the hunter cut off the zombie’s head, picked it up with the end of his sword, like he’d have caught an olive, and began pouring gasoline on the remains, setting it all on fire, right on the gravel. “That was fast,” he sniffed and sat nearby, cleaning his sword clean before the next undead creature showed up.

The slayer seemed to move with relative ease which was something that came with years of experience. Oscar had a look of bemusement on his face even as he ran with the broad sword. It wasn’t an easy feat, swords were heavy as shit and had to be handled carefully, but the fellow hunter seemed to know his hunting grounds well. He must have patrolled the area frequently and Oscar was enjoying the show. As soon as he beheaded one zombie, another was lying in wake, read to attack. He had his largest blade at the ready should he see his brother in arms needed a hand from a bored beast hunter. With how he moved, it seemed redundant, but he was on standby, spectating until the zombie’s head fell to the ground. With a slow clap, he made his presence known. He emerged from behind a memorial and greeted, “I was hoping you’d need a hand, but clearly you’ve got it handled here.” 

“I wouldn’t have had anyone to clap if you had hurt your hand in the process,” he deadpanned. Alain couldn’t help but wonder if he was talking with another slayer or not. He had never seen that person in town, and judging by the accent, he could assume that he was talking to someone who didn’t speak English as their first language. “I don’t think we’ve met before,” he rubbed his hand against his shirt to wipe it cleaner before holding it out, “Alain Babineaux, I… well, take care of the dead things in town.” Having introduced himself, he waited for the other to do the same. 

Deadpan snark. Oscar liked this slayer already. His lack of subtlety and inclination toward humor mirrored his own. “I try to be a good audience where I can,” he joked. Nothing was ever quite as thrilling as getting in on the fight, but he’d hate if an outsider took his kill from him. While he’d never been prim and proper, he did have decent enough manners to introduce himself once Alain brought it up. “I’m Oscar Fuchs. New to town, but I take care of the more furry varieties.” The familiar ring of his last name dawned on him. If he recalled correctly, they were wealthy hot-shots and respected slayers. “Babineaux. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that name. Always good to meet a Slayer who’s worth his salt. You always this discreet when hunting?” 

“I can see that,” his blade cleaned up, the hunter put it back into its sheath, and the rag back in his pocket. The name of the other man did not ring a bell, but if he was, as Alain expected, a foreigner, it was not surprising. Having lived in White Crest his whole life, he never really got to meet many hunters out there. Still, the man seemed to know who the Babineaux were. “Beast hunter, huh? I see,” he nodded in appreciation. “Well, if you heard the name, you must know that we’re worth our salt. “ Pursing his lips to the side, Alain wondered whether he should reply to that last comment. No, hunting with a sword was not discreet, but he never really had problems with that, and he knew best that to keep his long sword in catacombs or narrow places. But cemeteries? Swords were great here. “What is a beast hunter doing here, then? Admiring the superiority of slayers?” Chuckling, he walked past him to get to his bag. “Care for a drink?” Either coffee or bourbon, he could provide.

There was a certain comradery between hunters that Oscar had always enjoyed. He’d yet to make his way to the Silver Bullet, but he was sure he’d be right at home the moment he walked in the door. While wardens, slayers, and beast hunters all had their respective strengths, their goals were much the same. Make the world a safer place for humans. Noble goals didn’t mean he couldn’t at least have a little fun with the job. “Yeah, not quite as many good hunting nights a month, but we try to make ‘em count,” he joked and added, “If I had any doubt before, I definitely don’t now.” His own arsenal was hardly discreet either, but there was something very classic about a sword. Back in the day, he had a silver one he loved wielding, but he found knives and guns to be more practical to his type of hunting. “Ha,” he retorted with a laugh, “Superior might be a bit of a stretch. You ever seen a berserker? Those bad boys make zombies look like toddlers. I’m mostly just getting a lay of the land. Never did like waiting between full moons.” At the mention of a drink, he nodded and answered, “A drink sounds great.” Would pair perfectly with another smoke. “I’m quickly learning this town is full of rare species. What’s the craziest thing you’ve seen here?” 

Alain wondered if it was the local werewolf population that had brought Oscar to move to White Crest, or something else, such as the series of eerie events that had been striking the town lately. Either way, another hunter would never be too much. “Mmh, don’t tell me you only hunt on the full moon,” probably not. Alain did not envy beast hunters. They had to know many more creatures than he did, and werewolves were no joke. Some vampires either, but at least, he did not have to clean up bodies. “Glad I could make doubt disappear,” he knew how unconventional it was to stick to swords when stakes were lighter, but you could kill more creatures by removing their heads, and he would rather be efficient than smooth. “Really? Guess I’ll call you for the next Elder I find then. We wouldn’t want you to get bored between two full moons,” chuckling, he approached his things, taking out a thermos and a metal bottle, along with two cups,” he poured bourbon in both cups, although he added coffee on top of his. “Mmh, let me think,” scratching at the back of his head, certainly the squid was high on the list, but he remembered a penanggal he’d had the misfortune to cross paths with a few years back. It was his first and he hoped it would be his last encounter with that thing. Creepy fucker. “You ever seen a penanggal?”

There were some hunters out there that stuck to hunting on the full moon, but Oscar could never be one of those hunters. His hands were always itching to get their hands on some sort of monster. The job wasn’t all noble intentions, he was allowed to have a little fun with it too. Either way, he was keeping people safe. With a hearty laugh, he answered, “Oh no, I’d probably go crazy if I just waited for full moons. Seems like this town has enough beasts to keep anyone busy.” Tomorrow he’d probably go deep in the woods again. He’d familiarized himself with enough terrain that he wasn’t too worried about getting to know his current locale. If the need arose, he’d kill whatever supernatural creature came his way. He hadn’t personally come across an elder, but that wouldn’t stop him from helping to get rid of it. “Please do call me if come across an Elder. Sounds like one hell of a fight. Plus, it’s good to get a little versatility in the hunting department.” He took a seat on a small stone bench when Alain handed him some bourbon. He took a good sip before lighting up his cigarette. With a content sigh, he mused, “If there’s one thing Americans got right, it's bourbon.” He listened closely as Alain talked about the craziest thing he’d seen in White Crest. His eyes widened and he looked somewhat in awe. “A penanggal? I’ve read about them before, but never seen one in person. Based on the drawing they’re creepy looking der fickers.” He took a huff of a his cigarette and asked, “How’d that one go?” 

“Yeah, considering the amount of creatures we have roaming around, I think it’s safe to say that nearly no one chooses to hunt once a month,” older hunters or those with children to raise sometimes made that choice, but other than that… Alain wondered for how long Oscar had been in town, and whether he was aware or not of which places were to be avoided. “Well don’t hesitate if you need information on some areas. I know most of these places quite well,” and there were some even he avoided. The hunter’s enthusiasm at the idea of fighting an Elder brought a smile on the slayer’s face. Chuckling, he nodded, “I can confirm, those are really not fun to fight alone,” in fact, trying to go solo would result in death in most cases. “Yeah, I only get versatile when hunters need a hand with something. Otherwise, I leave beasts to you guys, and faes to wardens,” he had enough to deal with undead creatures alone. His mixture of coffee and bourbon managed to do its work, and he matched the other man’s sigh. “Ah, I knew you weren’t from around here. Germany, correct?” Not many places on this side of the ocean spoke German, and he could assume that the man was European. “Well… I can confirm that they look as creepy as they look disgusting,” and it took a lot to disgust most hunters. “I am more in favor of decapitation so that was not a great time for me. You never want to know what it’s like to hold something down by holding their trachea,” sniffing, he added, “I’ve heard hunters claim that they saw and fought many things over the years, Teke-Tekes, that thing “Taratata” or whatever, Fexts, you name it,” he rubbed his eyes. If he hadn’t met those last three creatures, he believed that some had. This town just was this bad. 

“Haven’t gotten to see too many of them yet, but I look forward to it. I always welcome a new challenge. I’ve actually seen my first ever bies since getting here,” Oscar explained with a hint of mischief in his eyes. Sacred duty didn’t have to be all serious and dire all the time. Having fun with it was what made him damn good at it. Hell, he was nearing 53 and he was still alive. That was quite the feat in his profession. He took a long drag from his cigarette and leaned back against the cool stone bench. Most found cemeteries to be eerie, but he knew the truth. They could be downright dangerous, but he loved the high each fight brought him. “Good to know, I’ll keep that in mind while exploring the area. Hoping my nephew will show me around, too, once he’s over this flu he has.” He sipped on his whiskey as Alain shared the story of the penanggal. Fighting one alone. “Damn,” he started with a hint of awe in his voice, “Trick to take those on alone. I’ll say it-- I’m impressed.” It made sense for slayers and wardens to stick more to their focus, they were out at all times of the month. Sure, there were plenty of beasts besides werewolves, but vampires weren’t all that rare. Considering he was a bar fly on the nights he wasn’t hunting, he ran into his fair share. Drunks were easy targets for a meal he assumed. “Beasts can be pretty versatile in their own right, but I enjoy the fight. If it’s discernibly supernatural, it’s worth taking on in my book.” Fae were trickier and undead not quite as fun to fight, but each kill made the world just a little bit safer for humans. It was hard to feel bad about finding it fun. At the end of the day, he was still helping people and honoring his family’s code. “Yes, I’m from Bad Wimpfen. Spent a good amount of time in Lyon, France, too. Spent the past decade doing a fair bit of traveling to different hotspots.” Though this current town was in part influenced by Kaden being here. Yeah, he’d chosen not to start a family of his own, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like having close connections. Kaden was the closest living family he had left. While Alain didn’t seem a fan of how gross they were, he thought it sounded like a grand time. Getting a little messy never bothered him. “Could see how that’d be unpleasant. Decapitation is cleaner. Beast hunting is always a little dirty though. Never seen a fext either though undead seems more your ball park as the Americans say. Stryga I’ve seen a lot of. Bies is one of the more rare one I’ve seen. Wolf actually got away from me because I had to be more concerned about the ficken bies,” he’d refrained from mentioning that Kaden let the wolf get away. “Had to kill a volmugger once in Barcelona, too, though I had help with that one. Gotta love a beast with range attacks.” 

Alain, who had never taken the time to really learn the name of most beasts that weren’t good enough for the ring, or undead, looked at Oscar with a slightly puzzled look on his face. It didn’t help that he heard bees instead of bies, and so it took him a small moment to understand that Oscar was not excited about pollinators. “Well, you’re in for a wild ride,” he patted the man’s arm and sat down on the bench with his cup still in hand. “Oh, you have some family in town, alright,” the slayer tried to think of other German hunters he might have met, but could not think of one that was still alive. Well, you could not know everyone. Truth was, Alain had fought the penanggal a while ago with his sister, Valérie, but he had no plans whatsoever starting to talk about his family, especially with someone who seemed familiar with the name. Either way, Alain would probably have been unable to get rid of such a creature these days. He hated to admit it, but if he had gotten a lot more experienced, there were things he could not pull off anymore. He brushed off the compliment and leaned back against the bench, sighing. “Yeah, I actually worked a few years for a fighting ring, catching beasts and…” And often fighting them too. He could see now how stupid this was, and how stupid he’d been then, still, he could not help but have some fond memories from that place, or the people he had met there. Thoughts of Audrey brought a sad smile to his face, which would be when he decided to talk instead of think. “I stick to the undead now. It’s a whole lot less messy,” he rubbed at his nose, thoughtful. “You have to be kidding me,” Alain himself was technically born in Lyon, and he knew of another hunter that was from that same city. “Well, I can’t wait to tell Kaden I met his uncle,” he shook his head, amused. Considering how things had been lately, Alain was not sure if he wanted to say anything about the younger hunter, still, he did, “Took him some time to adjust to the town, but it’s good to have him around here.” With those words, Alain finished his cup and put it down on the bench. Now little did Alain know that those bees Oscar kept mentioning were the exact thing he caught a glimpse of while repairing Jared Gordon’s tractor. “Well your face doesn’t look too bad for someone who fought one of those horrors.” It took a lot for Alain to feel revulsed, but this, it could make him feel this way. He could still remember the smell of flesh melting after having been hit with the acid of that beast. Fucking foul.

A wild ride was exactly what Oscar was looking for outside of getting some time to reconnect with Kaden. He knew the younger hunter was more than capable, but it was hard to not worry just a little bit while he was living in a hotspot. Charles and Lauren would have wanted him to keep an eye out on their kid and there was no denying the fact he cared for Kaden. “Wild rides are the only ones I like,” he joked before responding, “Yeah, nephew lives here… well, kid of some good friends mine. He’s always called me Uncle Oscar and it’s been over thirty years so I think family covers it for most.” It wasn’t all that complicated of a situation. Still, it felt weird that he of all people took in a teenager way back when. He never had kids of his own because he knew he’d be a shit dad, but he tried to do right by Kaden. A brow raised at the mention of a fighting ring that captured beasts. He sure as hell hoped those beasts ended up dead though Alain didn’t elaborate. It seemed to be a thing of the past and Oscar wasn’t one to force people dredge up their pasts. “Sounds like quite a gig,” he simply commented. Not quite his style. He preferred killing beasts outright over capturing them, but it probably meant Alain was a hell of a fighter. Plus, it wasn’t always the easiest to find odd jobs that worked in between hunting duties. He took another sip of whiskey and smiled brightly realizing this man knew Kaden. “Ah, good to know he’s made some friends here. Keep bugging him to take me to that hunter bar.” He nodded along, this town was strange and surely took some getting used to, but at least Kaden made connections with other hunters. It really helped in the staying alive department. “Makes sense, this place seems like quite the ride.” Considering the wolf and the bies, he was in pretty good shape. Kaden had gotten the brunt of the wolf’s attack. The loud sounds of gunfire had been enough to keep the bies from getting too close. He still cursed the fact the Krieg wolf got away, but he could understand Kaden’s instinct to protect him. “Thankfully, it didn’t get too close to me and I knew not to look in its eye. No new facial scars from that one,” he noted with a laugh. As badass as facial scars looked, they were an annoyance as they healed. He finished off his own cup and said, “Well, Alain, it’s been good meeting you. We should get together again some time, probably with Kaden. I suppose I should let you get back to beheading the undead.” 

[mainly-kpop]

A Pirate’s Life For Me

Chapter two. Pirate!BTS Maid!reader 

Warnings: Nothing but a cut on her knee and man handling Taehyung Summary: You had always wondered about pirates, about a life outside these walls. On your 23rd birthday, you would finally find out what both were really like.  Word Count: 3k 

‘Princess?!’ She heard one of the guard’s yell, coming bursting into the room. She sighed relieved, storming out of the closet. The guard stood confused for a moment. The princess didn’t look like herself, usually she was proper and calm. Right now, she stood, hair a mess, cheeks puffy from crying and in rags no less.

‘Get these rags OFF ME!’ The guard nodded shaking himself out of his shock, calling for a maid to help undress her. The maid scurried in instantly, following the princess to the room divider.

‘And she just let them take her?’ The guard stood by the advisor as he spoke, trying to get answers from her. He had a tinge of worry in his voice, the guard could only assume now that the rumors were true.

‘Yes, she switched our clothes and told me to hide. One of them took her hand and disappeared with her.’ She muttered behind divider, protecting her modesty from the men in the room. They almost thought they heard her voice break, a sniffle break through the silence, but it was covered by a cough before they could figure it out.

‘What a kind girl, although she has been by your side since she was a child. Regardless, we must find her. Would you like to send a ship to search for her miss?’ He questioned, already leaving to get a search party ready. He paused in the doorway at the sound of her protest, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

‘What do you mean no? She was your best friend once you know?’ She rolled her eyes, best friend. How could a lowly maid, be friends with royalty?

‘There is no point in searching for one lowly maid when there is enough chaos to deal with here. Do you not remember they were after me? No, we will double the guards and show the people we are okay. Forget the maid Robert, we don’t need her we have plenty.’ The advisor just rolled his eyes, sighing pathetically. She may be a princess, but her attitude was atrocious.

‘Enter.’ The captain spoke, standing looking out the back window, the little quarters giving him the only windows on the entire ship.

‘Captain, we have a problem.’ Tae spoke, dragging you in behind him. He rolled his eyes, taking in your night dress clad form. You looked scared; hands held timidly before yourself. Avoiding all eye contact with him, he couldn’t help but frown at you, he wasn’t that scary, was he?

‘What’s the problem? Is she not one of the boys one-night stands?’ He questioned, twirling a gold coin between his long fingers. It was only distracting for a second before the words clicked, he just called you a whore. You broke out of the grasp of the man beside you, storming up to the man in front. He towered over you slightly, having to look up to look even slightly intimidating.

‘How DARE you call me a one-night stand. I may not be the princess you intended to steal, but I am far from a whore “captain”.’ Tae whistled behind you, impressed with the courage and sheer anger you possessed. Yoongi made eye contact, with him, signaling for him to leave the room.

‘I didn’t insinuate you were a whore darling. However, you do pose me a small problem. Please, sit.’ He pulled out his own chair from the desk, allowing you to sit on it. Doing as you were told you take a seat. Finding it a lot more comfortable than you assumed, you settled waiting for him to speak again. He rounded the chair, sitting on the desk beside you, still playing with the golden coin.

‘We wanted the princess, purely for ransom. What exactly is it that you do on your island dear?’ He questioned, looking you up and down. Only just now are you realizing how revealing this night dress was. It was long, pale white silk, but the neckline dropped much further than you would have liked. He picked up on your discomfort, throwing a ratty blanket to you. Quickly you wrapped it around your shoulders, covering your breasts.

‘I’m a maid, for the princess. I switched our clothes and told her to hide when I saw them from the window.’ You spilled, not scared to keep anything from this man for whatever reason. He sighed, putting the coin down on the desk, favouring rubbing the bridge of his nose.

‘In that case, I cannot have you here not doing anything. I assume I will not get any gold for you, no offence. I can either drop you at the next island, or you can stay, you just have to pull your weight.’ You looked at him confused; eyebrows drawn together in a pretty frown. He couldn’t help but thinking you were kind of cute, but that’s not something he should be feeling towards possible crew.

‘Wait, you’re not going to make me jump ship? Or walk the plank while tied up so I can’t swim to shore?’ He laughed at your outburst, placing a hand on the arm of the chair you sat on.

‘Oh darling, how many fairy tales have you heard? We are not the pirates in stories. We do not wish to rape and pillage. I do not wish you dead, I would quite enjoy another set of hands on this ship. Pirates are not like the tales anymore darling, and you are not a princess in need of rescue.’ Every sentence he spoke he came closer, he smelled sweet, like candied apples. You let your eyes close, enjoying the scent before he yelled a name, breaking you out of it.

‘I’m going to get Taehyung to put you under the deck for the time being. Yes, it’s a cell, but I’m not trying to hold you. I’m giving you time to think the decision over. I shall see you in the morning.’ Tae grabbed your arm just as harshly as before, dragging you to the little door on the ground. He climbed down the ladder first, giving you time to climb down yourself. On the last step your foot slipped, caught on the silk dress. It tore under your foot, you let go of the ladder, falling before you even knew what was happening.

‘Please be careful, we don’t have medical supplies to fix a break.’ The man whispered in your ear, strong arms holding your weight as you steadied yourself. Getting back on your feet you examined the dress, seeing a rip all the way to mid thigh.

‘Thanks.’ You muttered, trying and failing to protect your dignity. ‘May I?’ The boy motioned to the rip, you blushed crimson but nodded regardless. He ripped off a chunk of the bottom, tying it around your waist. He also took a slither handing it to you.

‘I saw you had the captain’s blanket around your shoulders before. It’s not cold so I assume it was to hide yourself, tuck this in that section, it provides some privacy for yourself.’ He was sweet, roughly your age, the blush evident on his features as he talked about your breasts. You did as directed, seeing the layer of fabric hide your breasts from sight. Sighing contently, you smiled, allowing him to lead you where you needed to go. The little cell was, well, little. It was dark and dingy, but you expected nothing less. Sighing, you slipped through the little door, situating yourself on a part of the floor, legs out before you as you snuggled into the corner.

‘Uh, one of us might come down here at some point. Some supplies and whatnot are down here, so don’t be surprised if you hear someone. I’ll uh, leave you to it. See you tomorrow miss…’ smiling kindly at the young boy, he walked back up the ladder, leaving you alone.

Having time to think things over wasn’t so bad, but honestly, the choices given weren’t all that bad either way. You could either stay on the pirate ship, where you had been curious of since your child years. Or you could get dropped at the next island, get a ship back to the princess and continue as nothing happened. Neither sounded bad, but one sounded worse than the other. The door above you opened, uncrossing your legs, you sat them in a more lady like Manor.

‘Hey, are you awake?’ A small voice spoke, timid and quiet. You debated not answering, letting him believe you were indeed asleep. Curiosity killed the cat however, and you’d never been one to let an opportunity pass.

‘I am, what brings you here?’ You mumbled, recognizing the boy. He was the one who’s gaze made you cower at the island. You shuffled further into the corner, watching the boy beyond the door.

‘There is no need to be afraid I promise. My name is Jungkook, I thought you might be hungry…’ He held out a roll to you, giving you plenty of time to think it over. Slowly, you reached for the roll, snatching it before he had a chance to pull it away. He smiled as you ate it, he eyed up your body, not in a pervy way, honestly you felt weirdly comfortable with him doing it. He caught the small cut on your knee, pulling out a small bottle and a cloth from his pocket.

‘Do you mind if I clean it? You don’t know what you could catch and I don’t know when you cut it open. I’m the ships surgeon, really its just a fancy name. I deal with colds and sickness mostly…’ You shifted closer to the bars, putting your knee as close as you could. He poured some of the rub on the cloth, dabbing gently at your knee as you nibbled the roll.

‘Why did you lie to them?’ He whispered, trying not to startle you. He didn’t need to ask more; you knew exactly what he was talking about.

‘I didn’t lie, they assumed who I was. I just didn’t correct them.’ You muttered, watching as he placed a small bandage around your knee. Slight overkill, but you were thankful regardless. He just nodded sharply at your reply, sighing.

‘Well, in any case, I’m happy you’re here. You’re pretty and I hope you stay. Get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow!’ Before you could reply, he was gone, shooting up the ladder. Jungkook huh? He was sweet.

‘I assume you’ve made up your mind darling?’ Yoongi spoke, the same coin being tossed between his fingers. You nodded, looking round at the faces before you. You recognised the faces, but could only tie names to two.

You were woken up at what you were told was 6am. A soft hand pulling you towards the ladder, this was the second time you had held this boy’s hand and they were so beautifully soft. You really had to ask him what he was using? Was salt water secretly good for your skin?

‘I would like to stay, if it’s not too much to ask.’ You said in a small voice, not sure if everyone was going to be okay with this. The captain let a small smile grace his face before nodding.

‘Get yourself acquainted then meet me through here, we have to discuss some things.’ You smiled, bowing slightly for him as he left. You were cute, he would give you that.

Jungkook and Taehyung were the first to re introduce themselves. Jungkook checked the little bandage on your knee, kneeling down to unwrap it.

‘All better.’ He mumbled, looking up at you with big round eyes, he looked very young. Definitely younger than yourself. You could tell he had a cheeky and flirty side though, you figured he was going to cause you the most trouble. Taehyung just stepped aside after apologizing to you. He didn’t mean to drag you around the ship, and he hoped deep in his soul you didn’t get any bruises because of him. The other boys briefly introduced themselves and you were told of their positions. Figuring you would be working with Jin a lot, you smiled warmly, his strong features catching you off guard for a moment.

‘And we are the sailing masters!’ Jimin spoke excitedly, clearly happy with how important their jobs were. Jin tutted from the side of you, folding his arms over his chest.

‘Namjoon draws squiggles on parchment and Jimin cockily tosses a wheel around, don’t be too impressed.’ The other boys huffed, trying to fight their case. So soft hand boy was Namjoon, God those dimples were deeper than your hopes and dreams… While they were all distracted, Taehyung pulled you to the side, taking you to the captain’s door.

‘I really am sorry; I hope I didn’t hurt you too much…’ He mumbled, avoiding eye contact, much to your dismay. He had such pretty eyes; it would be a shame to not look into them any second you got.

‘Don’t worry about it, I basically grew up homeless, a small bruise on my arm is child’s play.’ You smiled sadly, slipping behind the captain’s door before he had a chance to speak. He would be asking you about that later though, no way do you get away with saying shit like that then disappearing.

‘You wanted to see me captain?’ You smiled warmly, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. He smiled warmly at you, he was soft for all his crew, but you might turn him into a pile of mush if he wasn’t careful.

‘Did you get acquainted with the boys?’ He questioned, raking through a chest at the back of the room. You nodded, sitting on his desk.

‘I did, they are all very kind. What is it you are doing?’ You peaked over his shoulder trying to see without being too obvious. He turned around, a small pile of clothes in his hands.

‘We don’t have much here unfortunately, but I can give you these until we get to an island. We will buy supplies for yourself.’ He looked you up and down, before setting the clothes on your lap. He cleared his throat turning away from you.

‘Go ahead and change, let me know when you’re done.’ You did as instructed, taking the silk dress off, throwing it on the desk. In the corner of his eye, Yoongi saw the fabric, having to clamp his eyes shut to focus on anything else.

‘As much as I am thankful for being rid of that dress, why must I change?’ You muttered, slipping the shirt over your head, tapping the captain so he could turn around.

‘That dress, now ripped and shorter, is very uh, tempting to them and myself. As much as we see women on a regular, and we get our fair share of whores and whatever else. We don’t get normal women not here for sex, you are off limits and that makes you tempting. I’m simply giving you protection until they are used to a woman on board.’ You nod simply, letting him continue. Really you hadn’t thought much of that, forgetting they had male wants and desires. It had been so long since you had been around someone of the opposite sex who was not a higher up.

‘Anyway, I’ll be dotting you around a lot here since we need help with, everything really. So, if the boys say they need you, help them when you can. Make sure your tasks with one are finished before you help the other though. That will be all, oh sleeping! You have two choices. You can sleep in the boy’s quarters, sharing with them or, you can share this room with me. There is one bed, but it’s quite large, I also tend to not sleep that much. It’s up to you dear, but my door is always open to you...’ He didn’t say anymore, instead reading over something on his desk, you took that as your cue to leave. You bowed, exiting the room, closing the door behind you. Why was your heart fluttering so violently? You sat up with the boys for a small while, until they decided to turn in. Jimin had dropped the anchor long ago, holding his hands out for you to join him. You shook your head, rejecting his invite.

‘I think I’m going to wait here a little bit; the sea looks pretty tonight…’ He nodded his head, smiling putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. He turned promptly, chasing Hoseok through the back.

You sighed watching the waves crash against the body of the ship, sighing over dramatically.

‘The stars look pretty too, don’t ignore them.’ A quiet voice sounded behind you, making a warm smile spread across your face.

‘I didn’t not mean to ignore such beauty captain; I just never saw the sea so close before.’ It’s true, you had seen it from windows, from the Palace gates. You had seen it in photos and paintings. Never close enough to touch, to smell. To feel the splash on your cheeks.

‘Don’t call me captain, it makes me feel so old. Yoongi will do fine in moments alone. Will you come to bed?’ He questioned, crouching down beside you. Smiling warmly at him, you take his offered hand, both of you slipping into his quarters.

To prying eyes, it may have looked sexual, maybe even romantic. The way he let you step in first, closing the door quietly behind you both, but it was far from it. Mostly awkward and tense.

‘Um, I can give you a night dress from a girl who slept once before. Not a whore I promise, I’ll turn away until you are under the sheet.’ Keeping to his word he turned away, peering out of the window. The fabric was soft on your skin, frills of the sleeves tickling your upper arm. Slipping under the sheets you cleared your throat, letting him know he could turn.

‘Join me, won’t you? I would feel strange taking your bed from you.’ He blushed, stripping himself of his top layers, leaving just his underwear, climbing in beside you. Both of you settled into the sheets, and air of tension surrounding you.

‘I never caught your name…’ He spoke, tiredness lacing his voice. I rarely sleep, my arse you thought.

‘Y/n.’ You spoke, closing your eyes letting sleep take over.

‘Sweet dreams y/n, sweet dreams.’

[eveningstarcatcher]

Day 1: Mistletoe

It was a cold morning in early December. It hadn’t snowed yet, but the sky threatened that it would arrive any minute. In preparation, the back room of the bookstore now included a small fireplace. There was now a fire crackling away merrily, casting a warm glow across the room and casting dancing shadows in the corners of the room. Aziraphale was curled up under a blanket with a book in his hand, but his focus was elsewhere. His eyes were glazed over, staring, unseeing, out the window.

It had been a few months since the world didn’t end and Aziraphale, while he had been enjoying the freedom from heaven’s iron grip, was struggling with it as well. There were fleeting moments where he wondered if he really had done the right thing. But of course he had. Hadn’t he? Yes! Most definitely! The humans are still here, going about their lives, with their wonderful creativity and imaginations. And the bookshop was still here, with its comforts and books. And there was Crowley.

Crowley.

At this thought Aziraphale was pulled out of his thoughts by a bell tinkling from the shop.

“Hey Angel! I brought you a little something! That café you like had something new – a seasonal thing I think… thought maybe you’d like it.” Crowley sauntered into the backroom, head nearly halfway into a white wax-paper bag, staring at its contents. “I think they said it was some peppermint bark… something. Your girl suggested it, so…. S’everything alright, Angel?” Crowley had looked up to see Aziraphale looking up at him with a sort of far away smile on his face. The firelight sparkled in his eyes and highlighted the soft wrinkles at the corners of those eyes, trying to mask a hidden sadness.

“Of course, dear boy.” Came the soft reply.

“You sure?” Crowley set the bag down and sat next to Aziraphale on the couch. “Heaven didn’t try to contact you, did they?” A small spark of anger flashed in Crowley’s stomach, but he focused instead on Aziraphale. No matter what answer he gave, Crowley could read the real response on his face.

“Oh, no. No need to worry.” Aziraphale gave him a smile, but it wasn’t the bright smile he usually gave Crowley. “Just waiting for the snow to fall. It will be lovely, won’t it?” His eyes drifted back to the window.

“Uh, yeah. It’ll be great.” Crowley remembered the bag in his hand and held it out to Aziraphale. “Want tea with this?”

Aziraphale’s gaze shifted back to Crowley and there was a spark there this time. “Oh, yes, please! That would be lovely. You’re such a dear to do this for me!”  He took the bag carefully, peering in and breathing in the scent of the soft pastry. “Oh! It is peppermint! I have just the tea to go with it!” He jumped off the couch and began to make tea. “I just found this at the shop and it will be just perfect! Would you like some as well? I also have a nice bottle of spiced wine that might be nice for a snowy evening!” Aziraphale chattered as he went about his work. Crowley smiled softly and shifted himself toward the heat of the fireplace.

“Wait!” he said, causing Aziraphale to pause. “Where’d this come from?

“Oh, I thought with the coming snow, it might be cozy!” Aziraphale called over his shoulder. “And I thought you’d like the extra warmth,” he added softly.

“Oh.” Crowley was taken aback for a moment. “S’nice.” Aziraphale could see Crowley smile out of the corner of his eye. He returned to the couch a moment later with a cup of tea and a bottle of wine.

Crowley takes the bottle while Aziraphale settles down on the couch. He uncharacteristically tucks his legs up beside him and pulls the blanket over him again. He takes the pastry from the bag and takes a bite.

“Oh, Crowley! This is delightful!” He wiggles as much as his current position allows and takes another bite.

“M’glad you like it.” Crowley miracles himself a glass and pours the wine. “So, what’s really going on, Angel?” Aziraphale moves to dismiss the question, but Crowley interrupts, leaning back to get a better look at his companion. “Don’t bother. I know something’s up – it’ll be easier to just tell me about it now.” He lifts the glass and takes a sip. Aziraphale was right, this wine is exactly right.

“It’s really nothing, my dear. Just being silly.” Aziraphale stares into his cup.

“Aziraphale,” the angel looks up at Crowley at the use of his name. “C’mon. Give me some credit here. I know you better than that.”

“I suppose you do,” Aziraphale sighs. “I suppose I’m just struggling with… doubt.”

Doubt. “Oh.” Crowley is frozen. “Well, I didn’t know you were still…” he rambles. “I’ll just…” he moves to set his glass down.

“Oh, my dear! Not you!” Aziraphale grabs his wrist softly, stopping him. “I could never doubt you.” He adds softly, the firelight once again dancing in his eyes.

“Then… then what?” Crowley stutters, his hand falling into his lap when Aziraphale releases it.

“The right thing. We did do the right thing, didn’t we?” His eyes are wide and fixed on Crowley’s. “Ah, of course we did. Of course!” Aziraphale says mostly to himself. “Right? I mean, the humans are still here. Lovely, strange, wonderful humans, and all their lovely, strange, and wonderful ways. That’s a good thing. Definitely the right thing!”

This line of thinking seemed to be cheering Aziraphale up, so Crowley went with it.

“Definitely! And the books! All your books are still here. And pastries, and wine, and warm fires, and – hey! It’s snowing!” Crowley had just noticed the soft white flakes floating down in the glow of the streetlight.

‘OH!” Aziraphale tried to throw the blanket off and stumbled to the window, trailing it behind him. “It is! How beautiful!”

Crowley joined him at the window, watching the snow, then shifting his gaze to the wide-eyed angel.  His smile was warm and wondrous.

“And snow.” Crowley said softly.

“And snow.” Aziraphale repeated, his arm gently brushing Crowley’s as he shifted. “And… and you.”

“What?” Crowley froze again.

“And you. You’re still here. And you’re here. Right here. With me.” Aziraphale’s eyes were now on the floor, his hands fidgeting at his waistcoat. “That feels right.” He pauses, waiting for Crowley to respond, but he is currently unable to. He wants to, so many words crowding, trying to fight their way onto his tongue, but there is a roadblock and nothing happens. Aziraphale’s eyes snap up, wide in fear. “Doesn’t it?” he whispers.

Crowley nods, then clears his throat. “Right. Definitely right. To be here. With you.” Without realizing it, he had reached out and took Aziraphale’s hand in his own.

“Oh no.”

“Oh no?” Crowley drops the angel’s hand, then glances up to see the blush on those soft cheeks.

“The snow has stopped.”

“Oh. Already?”

“Yes. Too bad. I was hoping for a proper snow.”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

The two of them stood, perhaps a little too close, and stared out the window, listening to the fire crackle behind them. The silence was light, easy, comforting.

“We were right, angel. Couldn’t have been more right. So stop worrying.” Crowley’s hand twitched toward Aziraphale, but dropped back to his side.

Aziraphale turned to face Crowley. “I know. How could this be anything but right?” His face was bright pink in the firelight, smile wide and soft, and he reached out and took Crowley’s hand in his own.

“Right.” Crowley could only repeat. “Wait!”

Aziraphale took a miniscule step back, but kept Crowley’s hand in his, surprised. Crowley took his free hand and waved it in the air next to his shoulder. Something appeared and he held it up over their heads.

“Really? Mistletoe, dear?” Aziraphale giggled.

“It is December, angel.” Crowley smirked, then his face fell. “If this is to fast for you, or if I’m reading this wrong –“ Aziraphale stepped closer.

“Not wrong. Right. Again.” He looked up at Crowley through his long eyelashes and Crowley’s heart jumped. “Shall we?” Aziraphale asked after a few moments.

“Of course. Definitely.”

Crowley leaned down as Aziraphale lifted his head up to help speed the matter. Their lips met softly for just a moment before Crowley pulled back.

“Okay, angel?”

Aziraphale reached up, grabbed the mistletoe from Crowley’s hand and threw it over his shoulder. “More than okay.” He wrapped his arms around Crowley’s shoulders, pulled him close, and kissed him again, this time with more zest. Crowley’s arms flew around Aziraphale’s waist and kissed him back. They melted against each other as the fire crackled and the mistletoe sat between a cup of tea and a glass of wine.

“Let’s celebrate this Christmas.” Crowley said as he pressed their foreheads together. “I mean really celebrate it. Enjoy all the silly things that humans still get to do because we did the right thing.”

“I think that sounds perfect.” Aziraphale smiled.

[sometipsygnostalgic]

A matter of discourse

Kind of autobiographical, which may be boring. This post is a very brief discussion about my experiences with online discourse. 

I’ve changed a lot since my A-timer days back in 2016 when I was first engaging in genuine discussion on the internet for the first time. Back then  I was fighting the fight for stuff like Bubbline to be allowed on television. There was a lot of insane and aggravating discussion. It felt fun to let off steam by having a proper go at someone I knew was wrong though. It developed some solid communication skills as well. I felt alive!    

When I opened my tumblr, suddenly lots of things were a big deal. Friends sharing posts about tragedies that had happened, about venomous members of different communities. This only escalated after I left the Atimers for Homestuck fandom, which was itching for a good fight. So I got in the gang with various LGBT bloggers, and watched the material they were sharing.   

So, there was stuff like Zamii, like scandals about ships, like scandals about what people did on other accounts... lesbian shippers were at war against gay shippers.... 

...and back in the cartoon fandom shows like SU were going under intense scrutiny from the people who enjoyed them, an overtly progressive show like SU had attracted an overtly progressive audience which was going to take absolutely no prisoners whatsoever, even on stuff that in most people’s eyes would never be a big deal. Standards that no other show in the history of television had lived up to. 

It’s not so much that SU etc were bad, or that they were not bad, but the thing that got to me was how the crew reacted. They couldn’t deal. They jumped to defend the show, say it was sooo not bad, that everyone else was being stupid. People deleted their accounts and stopped communicating with the internet. That was the harsh blow - the crew had decided the entire fanbase were not worth speaking to, because somebody criticised their work.

Not unlike what had happened to Homestuck, I feel.      

This was the time where I decided to step away from my tumblr account. I felt like I had to police everything I post because I was at the time a popular blog, if I stepped out of line - something ridiculously easy for a moron like me - then I wouldn’t be lynched as such, but my casual friends would reject me. I felt like this meant my tumblr friends weren’t true allies and it didn’t feel right to expose myself. (Not inclusive of the Group Chat friends or certain individuals from this site who are a whole different story of people I’ve neglected, I’m really sorry.) 

Watching the crews of all my fandoms just walk away at the first obstacle took the spirit out of being a fan too. 

Besides which, Homestuck was ending. It had decided late in act 6 to perform a round of virtue signalling which I felt was kind of facetious considering Hussie’s actual views on everything and the lack of energy he’d been putting into the story. Until the story ended I believed that maybe he’d changed, but then A7 dropped and I realised I was right all along. Years later, the epilogues have only reinforced my perspective that Hussie only wrote A6 to be so progressive because that was what he thought his current fans would be into, not because he thought it would be a good idea or the right thing to do. It shows because of how badly he’s handled it. 

So I joined the Homestuck reddit and became more active there than on Tumblr. Then I joined the Homestuck discord. 

The place at first was kind of... cold towards me, because of my reputation for being a firestarter whenever the topic of LGBT ships in homestuck came up (a reputation I am proud of - together we inflicted genuine change in the way the reddit handled homophobic content). I took a liking to it though because there is a ton of people and I didn’t have to engage in horrible one-on-one discussions where there could be intense emotional labour. I didn’t have to deal with people’s personal drama, with suicide threats, in-group fighting. I didn’t have to deal with callouts, because while they were a thing, they were just a silly thing that wouldn’t result in being kicked unless you were a genuine cunt. And I have grown to trust the place to protect itself from truly vile people. There are enough channels and there’s just enough activity that you can discuss whatever you like with a small group of people and have a good nonjudgemental discussion, though it will be layered with lots of sarcasm and maybe a couple of nasty comments, which I think I’m a bit weird for enjoying getting thrown at me. Playing the Fool is my forte. 

Watching the news now, even looking on tumblr, but ESPECIALLY looking at twitter, it’s so intimidating seeing how much people hate each other for acting naturally. Whether this is people who would be described by many as “social justice warriors” or people who would self describe as “anti social justice warriors”. I do think the latter are significantly more evil and petty to be honest because they’re doing something far worse over an issue that’s less severe than whatever they’re defending.  

The major issue appears to be people reacting without genuinely looking into whatever they’re being clickbaited with. This is stupidity at its finest. 

To summarise my position:  If you see something and it’s making you feel strongly, I implore you to sit back, think about what you’re looking at, maybe do a bit of research, then think about why it’s happened, and why it’s making you feel strong. If you do all that and your opinion is the same, great! You’ve got a well thought out opinion.   

If you refuse to do this, you’re being dumb and you should not try to cause controversy or grief.  

If you’re causing drama or harrassment about something purely out of spite to someone else who you don’t like much, go fuck yourself. 

Okay, post is over, go home everybody. Your homework for tonight is the controversy of the Homestuck epilogue, why it became what it was, and whether it’s justified to be angry. Please submit papers by tomorrow morning for review.  

thiswillbemynextblogpost

[storyunrelated]

George & The Dragon - Late

Yet more self-indulgent flumf.

I rather enjoy the idea of draconic values just being...different. Like, not incomprehensible, just different.

Meh, I don’t know. You don’t care.

-

“Hello hello hello, how’s my favourite dragon today?” Said George, closing the door behind him before turning, expecting to see Jessica doing what she normally did where she normally did it: sleeping on her pile of stuff.

And indeed she was on her pile, but she was not asleep. She was very much awake, sitting up, and her eyes were fixed on George with enough intensity that he actually jumped. A dragon could look pretty intense when they wanted to.

“You’re late,” she said.

A lot of people - when confronted by a terse, glaring dragon - might feel nervous. George did not, and once he’d got over the shock of seeing her awake in the first place, took this in his stride, chuckling to himself at being so startled and moving on into the room proper, away from the door.

“Yes, sorry. Not too late, I hope?” He asked. Jessica only moved enough to keep him fixed firmly in her gaze.

“Why are you late?” She asked.

“Oh, Marie from work missed her bus so had to hang around and she didn’t really want to just be sat around on her own so I hung around with her for a bit and we had a coffee and whatever, ate up some time. Then three busses came! I didn’t think that actually happened but it, uh, did. Heh,” George said, shrugging.

This was what had actually happened. George felt it was an acceptable enough reason - hardly the sort of thing that went on every day, after all - and was alarmed when Jessica slithered down from her hoard and padded on over to him.

Jealousy - especially of the possessive kind where it wasn’t enough to have something but also imperative that others did not have that something - was a close cousin of greed, and therefore something that dragons were naturally quite vulnerable to. Particularly if they weren’t expecting it, doubly particularly if it wasn’t something that they’d ever really encountered before.

“Who is Marie?” She asked, raising her head high enough so that she had the height advantage over George. Not a difficult thing to do, really. She was after all a fair few times his size.

As for her question, George felt that he’d explained that already. Perhaps he’d missed it, he thought.

“Lady from work. Nice lady. French extraction, I think. But yes, takes the bus to work and today missed the one she normally gets. Poor lady didn’t want to just sit on her Todd in the shelter so, uh, yeah. We just hung out a bit, shot the breeze. Why?”

Jessica blew out a breath, nostrils flaring. She wasn’t even sure why she was angry. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she was angry. She was feeling something, this much was clear, and it had to do with what George was saying, but it wasn’t like anything she’d encountered before. She didn’t quite know what to make of it.

At the least, Jessica knew she didn’t like it. 

Shifting about, she brought her tail around and it snaked around George’s waist, gently but firmly pulling him a few steps closer and then staying wrapped there. Jessica’s tail could do things like that.

“Do you get her presents?” She asked.

This question caught George off-guard, and he didn’t know what to make of it. The tail was kind of distracting, too. Not to mention snug.

“What? Uh, not really. Mean, don’t know when her birthday is. Should probably find out. It’d be polite if - “ George said, about to go down a tangent of how even once he found out when Marie’s birthday was he still wouldn’t really know her enough to know what a good present would actually be and how this was an issue, but Jessica cut him off:

“So you don’t get her presents?”

George frowned the frown of the deeply confused.

“No. Not really sure why you’re asking,” he said, but then the light broke. “Oh! You mean like how I get you things, right?”

Jessica said nothing, though the grip of her tail tightened minutely.

“No I don’t do that, that’s just for you, Jess,” George said.

A pause. Further tightening of grip.

“...good,” Jessica said.

It wasn’t clear where the conversation was meant to go from here. Jessica didn’t appear in any hurry to say anything else, and George had only the vaguest idea of what had just happened.

“Well,” George said, only to yelp in surprise when Jessica returned to the pile and took him with her. There wasn’t a lot he could do about this.

There just-so happened to be a spot on the hoard that was comfortably composed of a multitude of stuffed animals, exactly the sort of spot a human might be able to settle down on. This was obviously a random coincidence and general stroke of luck, and in no-way was it something that Jessica had done intentionally. But since it was there - coincidentally - she might as well put it to good use.

“Sit here,” she said, depositing George onto this spot as she curled up herself, making sure to keep her tail idly - but weightily - laid across him, in case he had any ideas about moving or going anywhere.

George blinked and looked down at the abundance of soft toys he was sitting on. He’d sat in worse places, he supposed.

“Right,” he said, not really seeing anything else he could do. So he just got comfy. Jessica watched him do this, checked he didn’t make any sudden moves, and then relaxed, laying her head down. Kept an eye on George though, something he noticed before too long.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

Even for Jessica this was unusually quiet.

“I’m fine.”

Nothing further. George idly patted her tail because that’s just where his hands had ended up. He then noticed that he was doing this and stopped doing this.

“So…” he said. “What did you do today, then?”

“Slept,” said Jessica.

Not a huge surprise. Still George had felt it worth asking and he did have to smile at her answer. He probably could have guessed, really.

“Doesn’t sleeping all day get a little boring?” He asked. She huffed.

“I’m a dragon. I like sleeping.”

“Oh. Should I not bother you, then?”

He asked this while trying, jokingly, to rise. He didn’t get very far, her tail pressing down enough to keep him quite definitively in place.

“No. I mean, no you shouldn’t not bother me. I like it when you bother me,” Jessica said hurriedly. Then adding: “Keep doing that thing with your hands.”

“What thing?” George asked, holding up his hands. Jessica raised her head and nudged it toward her tail, assuming this would help him get the point. It did not.

“That thing you were doing before. The patting thing. Keep doing that.”

Cautiously, uncertain, George back to doing what he’d been doing without thinking before.

“This?” He asked.

Jessica let out a small, satisfied hum, nodded, then settled her head back down again and closed her eyes. George, at a loss, just kept on doing what he was doing, wondering what any of it might mean.

On the plus side, he was at least very comfortable. And cosy. And generally snug and content. Who knew sitting on a pile of gathered stuff could be so restive? Lucky she liked the stuffed animals so much, he supposed, and luckier still that so many of them just-so happened to be right on the surface just like that.

Very lucky indeed. He wondered about that, but reached no definite conclusions. George was happy enough to put it down to coincidence, something that Jessica would have been very glad - not relieved! Nothing to be relieved about! - to hear.

Hoards are fine things, though.

There isn’t a lot of design or thought that goes into the arrangement of a dragon’s hoard. If it looks like a heap of stuff, that’s because it is a heap of stuff. The order or setup of the layers is not especially significant, the important part is having the stuff and then getting more stuff. That’s kind of the point.

That said, there are always certain items in the hoard that are considered more important for whatever reason, and these are often found towards the top of the pile and within easy reach, to be brought out and admired at leisure. 

These are usually things like the first of a particular type of item that was acquired, the one that triggered the collection of other, similar items. Or sometimes it’s something hard-won, that took a lot of effort to get. Or even something with some level of sentimental value, something given by someone they have fond memories of or fuzzy feelings for, perhaps. 

Things like that. Not necessarily items with innate value, but rather items with assigned value. Though a dragon would be the first point out that value assigned by a dragon was innate value and that if a dragon says something is precious it then becomes precious by that fact alone. But that’s a given. They would say that.

The point remains. Just because dragons are greedy - and make no mistake, they are greedy - doesn’t mean they can’t also be softies, too.

For example! Near the surface at the very top of Jessica’s hoard - protected and kept out of sight by a thin layer of lesser items - was the very, very first thing that George had ever given her, that which he’d given her the first time they’d ever met.

It was hidden so that he didn’t see that she’d put it in such a prominent place, and it was near the top so that when she slept she could be certain she was sleeping with it close and with herself right on top of it. That it was close was important. She checked daily to make sure it hadn’t gone anywhere.

That’s an example. It’s not universal, but it’s an example.

“Are you asleep again?” George asked after a little while, continuing to pat. He’d worked out a rhythm.

“No,” Jessica said, keeping her eyes closed.

“You still up for going out tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

It being the weekend, George had previously floated the idea of the two of them going into town and just making a day of it. Maybe seeing a film, maybe just sitting somewhere and doing nothing. It was meant to be quite nice, tomorrow, the Autumn weather inexplicably having decided to just leave for a day, as it was often wont to do, and the sun coming back.

“Good, good,” said George. He was glad. He’d been looking forward to it all week, as a matter of fact. Had kind of been the thing that had kept him going.

He then yawned, because the combination of sitting comfortably, being snug and having only recently finished work was a potent one.

“Oh my, I’m nodding off,” he said, closing his own eyes. There really was something quite soothing in the warm weight of that tail just draped across him. Perhaps he was just odd.

“George?” Came Jessica’s voice and he halfway opened one eye again.

“Hmm?”

There was a pause as she gathered up the words.

“...don’t be late again. I mis- I don’t like it when you’re late,” she said.

George yawned again, stopped patting and just drowsily wrapped his arms around her tail, snuggling against it and sinking deeper into the bed of stuffed animals.

“I missed you too…”

Jessica’s ears flickered and her head bolted up.

“Missed me too?! No! Dragons don’t - I didn’t - “

But he was already asleep, snoring quietly to himself. Jessica frowned and gave him a light poke in the side with a talon. He kept on snoring as happy as anything. If anything he just snuggled up even more. Jessica sighed.

“I don’t get you…” she said, cocking her head, just looking at him.

She couldn’t quite pin the feeling down, but there was just something right in having him there, on the pile. Near her. Like he belonged. And why shouldn’t he belong there? He was very valuable! Her first and only friend. Such a thing was a treasure, and therefore had to be kept safe. The logic there was ironclad. No holes or issues whatsoever.

Happy that things were as they should be Jessica put her head back down and closed her eyes, drifting off herself.

“Missed you too,” she said, quietly enough that even had George been awake he likely wouldn’t have heard her.

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day Five: Sleep Time ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, ] [ Verse: White Hands of Healing ] [ Previous || Next ]

Double shifts are literally the worst. Partly because...well, they’re exhausting. As much as Ryū loves her work, having to pull two shifts in a row is just a bit more than she can typically handle. She’ll get through them, but often needs at least a day to recuperate, depending on how severe the workload was. And given that double shifts really only happen when there’s a great need for more hands, well...a day off after is pretty much a given.

Partly, too, is because they keep her from home longer. A few years ago, this...really wouldn’t matter. All she had waiting for her at home was her summon. Not that she doesn’t adore Fubuki to pieces, but...well, the owl is still largely independent, as close as summon and summoner are. But as of the end of the fourth shinobi war (well...just about), she’s had someone else there waiting. And even before that, he was a bit of a staple...even if he wasn’t living there, per se. He’d still show up every blue moon. That, of course, being her now-husband, Obito.

At times, it’s still a bit of a funny thought...husband. If you’d suggested the idea of her getting married before meeting him (and perhaps even for a while after), she’d have just laughed. Ryū was, in essence, married to her job. She barely even had friends, let alone...romantic interests. And given how transient things had begun with Obito, well...she hadn’t exactly gotten her hopes up, even as she realized she was getting in rather deep.

But now he’s as much a part of her life as her job, if not more so. It’s a huge part of her identity, after all...something he’s noted before. Hence why, well...she gets a little carried away.

And ends up...exhausted.

Of course, that’s not to say that Obito too doesn’t have work to leave him tired. His mandatory tasks assigned by Konoha as neverending repentance can be just as stressful and exhausting - if not more so - than her own work. Days when they’ve both had it rough are, well...rough. Barely conscious enough to even enjoy their time home, let alone each other, the evenings after such days never feel very...fulfilling. Basically they boil down to coming home, eating...something, and then going right to bed and doing it all over again.

And then there’s the guilt where one has work, and the other...doesn’t. By now, they both know their jobs are tiring. It then typically falls to the one left home to ready the house and help the one working relax after their day.

Today happens to be one of those latter days. Obito was given a day to recover from his own labor, and Ryū is...well, pulling double time. She knows it’ll worry him, but...she can’t leave the other medics hanging. She’s just not the sort.

So, it’s late into the evening (having left pretty much at the crack of dawn) when she finally gets home, sagging back against the door with a heavy sigh and wilting shoulders. “...tadaimaaa,” she calls, tone warbling through the house.

...no answer.

Frowning a bit, Ryū lets her sensory range expand, and finds Obito’s chakra...in the bathroom? Pushing herself upright with a grunt, she peeks around the proper wall and finds the door closed.

“...koi? Are you all right?”

“Oh! Uh...h-hold on!”

Worried for a moment he might not be feeling well, she narrows her senses, but...doesn’t find his chakra at all stressed. Maybe a little startled at her voice, but he’s not ill. Then the door flies open, and she can’t help a delayed jump.

“Sorry!” he offers, clinging to both sides of the doorframe. “I was, uh…”

With the door open, Ryū’s nostrils flare at a rather potent burst of...floral scent? “...is...everything okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah! Yeah, it’s fine. Uh…” Obito flashes a sheepish smile. “I got your note, about the double shift, so...I sort of…” Stepping aside a little awkwardly, he nods her in.

Peering past him, Ryū perks up. There’s candles all over the bathroom, and flower petals atop the surface of a steaming bath. “...you...did this?”

“I just thought it would be...nice for you when you got home,” he replies, going a bit pink and itching at his neck. “I was going to make dinner, but I...ran out of time...so there’s takeout coming, instead. So you don’t have to cook!”

Once the surprise fades, Ryū can’t help but slacken a bit with a warm smile. “...you’re amazing, you know that?” she replies, turning and leaning into him for a hug, smooshing a cheek against his chest. “I have the best husband in the world…”

Above her hair, Obito goes all the pinker. “Well...it could be better if there was food to go with it, but…”

“I am so fine with takeout. I’m starving.” Shifting her head to look up at him, her expression is softened with affection, a glow to her eyes as she stares. “Feel like soaking with me…? You should get to enjoy it too, ne?”

That earns a surprised blink. “...sure!”

“Okay...I need a shower first, but...yes. I am so ready to sink into some hot water for a bit. My back is killing me…”

Once she’s cleaned up properly, Ryū sinks into the tub, water just under her nose as Obito slinks in behind her. Pale skin quickly reddens with the heat, but she’s putty in his hands, utterly relaxed.

...and then he starts rubbing her shoulders, and she’s gone. There’s a mewl of contentment, which begets a snicker behind her.

“That bad, huh?”

“Mm, you have no idea…” Leaning forward, Ryū goes so far as to rest her brow against the front edge of the tub, giving Obito access to the whole of her back, which he wastes no time in easing the tension out of. She’s almost dozing when he shifts, leaning in to give her flushed skin a few kisses. That pulls a few giggles out of her, squirming a bit. “That tickles, koi…!”

He just ignores her, giving a few more before pulling her upright to snuggle against his chest. Eyelids heavy, it takes all of her willpower not to nod off.

Then, Fubuki’s voice comes from the belly of the house. “The food is here, Ryū-sama.”

That gets her to laugh. “...you sent Fubuki to pick up the food…?”

“She wanted to.”

“I’d like to have seen their face when an owl showed up at the pick up counter…”

“Hey, I gave her the money, that’s all they need.”

Getting out and toweling off, the pair change into robes and sit under the kotatsu, side by side as they devour their food. Fubuki sits on her summoner’s shoulder as Ryū in turn leans her head on Obito’s.

“Feel like watching a movie?”

“Mm, no...I’m afraid I’d just fall asleep, honestly. I think I’ll just...go to bed here in a bit.”

“I better join you...Kakashi sent me tomorrow’s assignment this afternoon.”

“Is it...bad?”

“Nah, pretty typical. I’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, will take it easy tomorrow.”

Her lips purse in a pout. “But you did all this for me…”

“Hn, because you earned it,” he retorts, turning to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I’ll be fine.”

“...well...I’ll make dinner, at least.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

After a little lounging to let their food settle, the pair ready for bed and slip under the covers for the night. Almost immediately, Obito hugs Ryū to his front, hearing her giggle as he buries into the crook of her neck.

“Mm...the perfect way to end my day,” she murmurs, clearly already half asleep. “In my koibito’s arms…”

“I feel the same,” he replies, nose skimming along the rear of her jaw. “...well...I guess I can think of one thing better, but…”

A bit puzzled, she glances over her shoulder, seeing a grin she knows all too well. Subtle heat gathers in her cheeks. “...true. But I’m afraid I’d fall asleep…”

“You think I’d be that boring?”

“Nooo,” she replies with a breathy laugh. “I’m just that tired. But...maybe we’ll have the combined energy tomorrow...ne?” Turning in his grip, it’s her turn to nuzzle her brow up under his chin. “For now though...I’m content just as I am. Can you forgive me?”

Obito just snorts. “Nothing to forgive...I’m just teasing you, hm?”

“I know.” A few more wriggles, and she finds herself comfortable with a heavy sigh. “...goodnight, koi.”

Giving one last press of his lips to her brow, he grunts an affirmative, pulling her close before conceding to sleep.

     So after yesterday's massive angstfest, we have...some fluff! As much as I love angst - and I do - I honestly love fluffy slice-of-life stuff a LITTLE bit more. This piece is a lot shorter, but...I just felt like there wasn't much more to add, and I didn't wanna force it. And considering I still have other stuff to get written tonight...that's probably a good thing xD      Anywho, not...much else to say about this one. Meg's 'bito is a sweetheart and is totes into spoiling his girlie after she has a tough day. And Ryū does so in return, of course. This is a love and support ship! xD      But on that note, that's all I've got for tonight! Thanks for reading~

[toloveawarlord]

Twin Collision

You can find all my other works here!

The hour was late, much too late for the two kids chasing each other through the small cottage that sat on the border of Black and Red Territory. Their bickering filled the small space while their mother stood in the kitchen, making a very late dinner. Olivia brushed her bangs out of her face and leaned back to get a proper look into the living room. “Valarie! Give Ezra his wooden sword back this instant!” She couldn’t very well leave the chicken broiling in the oven or it might burn.

She did regret sending the nanny home now, but Luka was supposed to be here already.

Valarie skidded to a stop at her words, giving a sigh and tossing the plush doll over her shoulder in the opposite direction of his brother. “Fine, it’s not like I like the thing anyways,” she said, shrugging.

Her brother smacked her on his way past, nearly knocking her down. “You’re a brat, Valarie!”

Valarie held her aching nose with both her hands, and spat back, “Well you’re stupid! At least I can do basic math and you can’t! Stupid!”

“That’s enough, both of you!” Olivia wanted to pull her hair out. The two got like this when it had been too long between visits. It wasn’t every day that she got the time to come and see them, and the same went for Luka. She had found out that her twins had been having a hard time bonding with each other. It was something she had hoped to discuss with her fiancé once he arrived.

The jiggling of the door handle brought the bickering to quick end. Ezra went barreling that way, narrowly missing being hit by the opening door. “Dad! Come sword fight with me! I’ve been practicing!” He practically bounced up and down with excitement.

Luka could feel the tension in the room, both his girls in bad moods. The meeting with the Red Army had ran long, and then his idiot brother had tied him up for even longer. Though, he couldn’t very well tell anyone where he was going.

Valarie collapsed down onto the floor, sitting on her knees, and began to cry as loud as she could. “Ezra hit me!” She squealed and forced more tears to her eyes.

“Will you please get her? I’m nearly finished with dinner but these two will not stop fighting,” Olivia said, exasperated. She had forgotten how hard it was to deal with kids, especially as they got old enough to hurt each other and talk back.

Luka stepped around his son to the nearly screaming girl on the ground. He scooped her up into his arms, brushing a hand through her hair. “It’s alright, Valarie. Let me see,” he said. She dropped her hands away from her nose that had been colored a dark shade of red. Luka squinted his eyes a little, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t know. Liv, we might have to just take her nose completely.”

Her eyes went wide, and she covered it with her hands again. “No! It’s mine!”  

“Let’s take another look, then.” The moment she hesitantly removed her hands, Luka leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her nose.

Valarie giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. “It’s all better now!” She stuck her tongue out at Ezra. She had won.

“That’s not fair! Valarie always gets away with everything!” Ezra stomped his foot, throwing his sword down onto the floor. He glared at his twin, angry that she could get away with anything. “She’s the one who took my sword! That’s why I hit her! She’s so mean to me!”

“You still can’t hit her, Ezra. That isn’t how we solve problems,” Luka answered, though he knew it did little good. The two needed a stable home, and at the moment, neither he nor Olivia could provide it. His twins vied with each other for attention. “And Valarie, you can’t take his things, either.”

Olivia carried the pan with the chicken fully cooked to the table. “Dinner is ready, who’s hungry?” The one thing that brought the two kids together was their love of food. Luckily, they hadn’t destroyed the carefully placed dishes tonight.

“Dinner looks amazing, Liv,” Luka complimented, placing a soft kiss on her lips. It was nice to get a break from cooking every now and then. Setting down the girl in her designated chair, he scooted both chairs of the kids up to the table before sitting in his own.

“Yeah mommy! It smells super yummy!” Valarie echoed the words of praise and sat on her knees in the chair to reach the table. The chairs were placed far enough apart that neither of them could reach the other easily.

The dinner went much smoother than anticipated, no food fight breaking out. The twins were eager to hear about Luka’s work in the army, always interested in the ones he worked with. Ezra loved to hear about Fenrir, the thought of holding a gun himself the most exciting dream. Valarie liked Sirius because she, too, really enjoyed growing flowers, so long as she didn’t have to plant them herself.

Their routine fell into place easily. After dinner, everyone pitched in to do the dishes, then the twins had their baths and brushed their teeth. And finally, they were put in bed, with the door left cracked enough to let in a little light. Ezra hated being left in the complete dark.

Olivia flopped down on her stomach on the bed in their own room, completely drained of her energy. “They are such a handful, aren’t they? Who knew having kids would be this stressful?” She asked, relishing in the silence that came with them being in bed.

“It’s our fault. We should be here more. Or rather, we should move into a home close to Black Headquarters. Then we could be together all the time,” Luka said, taking the spot beside her. He gently rubbed his hands over her back, eliciting a moan from her lips.

She stared ahead, resting her chin on her arm. “You know it’s not that simple.”

“It could be.”

Olivia rolled over, sitting up to face him properly. Taking his hands in hers, she squeezed them. It broke her heart to be away from them. “I can’t just… leave. My family. My job. Red Territory is my home.” She brushed her thumbs over the top of his knuckles. “And you can’t leave the Black Army, either. We’re stuck in a weird limbo. And it feels like we’re failing them as parents.”

“Hey,” Luka brought her hands to his lips, placing a soft kiss on them. “We aren’t failing. There is no right way to raise kids. We just… have to find more time to be here.” His cheeks were growing red. The two rarely got to spend the night together.

It brought a smile to Olivia’s lips. He could be too adorable sometimes, with how he got embarrassed when it came to being intimate. She leaned forward, tilting her head up to kiss him. “We can discuss it tomorrow right?” She wanted to drown him in her love tonight, to forget all their other obligations and just be together.

Until the door flew open.

“We don’t want to sleep in our room! We want to sleep with you!” Valarie said, sleepiness in her voice.

Ezra had already climbed on the bed, jumping up and down and jarring the two adults. “So much for being alone,” Olivia sighed, but with a grin on her face. She did so love these two. “You’d best go rescue your little girl before she runs into something.” She winked at him before climbing up onto the bed with Ezra.

Luka watched Valarie, amused and amazed that she was still standing. She must have been nearly asleep when Ezra sprung the idea on her, and she surely wouldn’t be left behind. Her staggered steps leading her straight into the dresser caused him to finally move to her. “Come on, starshine, you’re going to hurt yourself,” he muttered, lifting her up.

Valarie rested her head on his shoulder, sleep already taking over once again. But her words still hit him in the heart hard. “I wish we could all be together all the time,” she whispered, making soft kissing noises.

“Soon, I promise,” he answered, not convinced of the words himself. He could imagine the four of them being like this every night. His soon-to-be wife and son jumping on their bed, their laughter filling the air. Holding his little girl every night, making sure she was content and happy every day of her life. It was his biggest wish, but he and Olivia still hadn’t come to an agreement.

In the morning. He promised that in the morning he would convince her to move to Black Territory. For them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another kid fic! I hope you all enjoy these Ikerev kids as much as I do! Their bickering gives me life, as that’s exactly what me and my sibling sounded like as children. Luka makes a good dad!

[zukalations]

Mori Keaki - 120% Darling: Part 2 Chapter 12 - If my heart had a home…

Mori Keaki published this essay book the month before her retirement as Top Star of Snow Troupe. It is mainly a memoir of her personal journey in Takarazuka, as well as her early life. Her writing/formatting style is kind of unique, and I tried to reproduce or reflect it as much as possible. 120% Darling has around 24 chapters, and I plan to post one every Friday. It’s a really lovely book, that ended up making me cry many times. I hope you enjoy it! For a table of contents with links to all the chapters, go here.

This is the final proper chapter of 120% Darling! I’m so happy so many people have enjoyed reading it. Next week I will post the epilogue, and then leave Fridays open for a few months while I translate another book.

If my heart had a home…

Now that I am graduating from Takarazuka, to become an actress…

‘I’ll be living in Tokyo now, won’t I?’

It was the middle of the night, and I was in my own room, but it was suddenly so deeply moving that I ended up sighing.

I had lived in Takarazuka since my second year of high school.

First in the ‘Violet Dormitory’, and then later living by myself.

Takarazuka had completely become my hometown.

As for Tokyo, well, since I would stay there for about a month at a time during Tokyo performances, it wasn’t as if it was totally unknown to me, but usually I would just go back and forth from where I was staying to the theatre, so I had never been able to relax there during my time off.

But Tokyo was a city I liked.

My favorite city is Sendai.

Although currently I’ve totally become a Takarazuka resident,

I feel like if I get a chance to live there properly, I’ll come to really like Tokyo.

If I’m describing Sendai, before anything else I would have to say that it’s a city with a laid-back, generous personality.

And also, although I think this is probably an attribute of the whole Touhoku region, everything’s straightforward, without any two-faced meaning.

To tell the truth, when I first moved to Takarazuka, I found Kansai conversations bewildering.

In Touhoku, even in speech, everything is relaxed, and laid-back, with a warm mood to it…

But the speed of Kansai dialect…

That was especially so in Osaka, I think. At the start, I would recoil at the force at which shopkeepers would talk.

Recently, I feel like since there are so many celebrities from Kansai performing on national television channels that people all over Japan have become accustomed to hearing Osaka dialect and Kobe dialect and Kyoto dialect. When I was little, in Sendai there was wa~y, wa~y less opportunity to hear Kansai dialect.

Therefore, even words like “Kashiwa!” [T/N: Kansai dialect term for ‘poultry’]

“Hm? In Kansai do they say ‘kashira’ (which means ‘head’) as ‘kashiwa’...”

I thought re~ally dumb things like that sometimes.

“Chaunen” [‘that’s wrong’], “Hottoitenka” [‘buzz off’], “Donkusainaa” [‘what a klutz’], et cetera, et cetera.

While now I can understand the meanings easily and sometimes end up using Kansai dialect terms myself, back then I had quite the struggle.

Although Takarazuka is obviously located in Kansai, it couldn’t be described as a big city, and it’s origin was as a ‘hotspring town’.

The atmosphere is relaxed.

That aspect I feel really saved me back then, as a girl who had journeyed there from Sendai.

All around the town, the scenery and atmosphere was...free and open, I guess you could say.

When I was taking the Takarazuka Music School Entrance Exam,

I said to my big sister who had accompanied me:

“I feel like I lived here once a long time ago~”

But she just laughed at me and said

“What on earth are you saying, silly~”

I felt like, if I had believed in past lives, then the ‘me’ before I became ‘the present me’ had lived there…

That was the feeling I had when I encountered Takarazuka.

And at the time of the next cherry blossom season, I will leave this Takarazuka behind.

For Tokyo, Tokyo, TOKYO…

‘I have to find someplace to live…’

Although I have those kinds of real-life problems at the moment,

‘At least this time I won’t have any language issues!’

I feel comfortable on that account.

Although Takarazuka is a stage company made out of professional performers, it’s also a perpetual school, so it has that protective atmosphere of warmth about it.

Until graduation (...which actually means retirement), you’re always a student.

And even if you graduate, you then become a ‘former student’.

I don’t mean this in a bad way, but I think that in the world of Takarazuka, that most pure period of your ‘youth’ that everyone looks back on so nostalgically is treasured and protected.

And now I’m finally journeying away from here…

Well, when it comes to the stage I have my own views.

But thinking of my emotional age, or my age in terms of societal experience, or any aspect besides the stage, I feel like my mind is still that of a second-year high school student… It’s scary.

Scary to retire now, and then move to Tokyo.

I’ve also been thinking:

‘Somehow...this feels like my first time ‘having a job’...’

I have a feeling that I will keep having new ‘discoveries’ and ‘feelings’, too.

But still, to be honest, I don’t dislike all this internal commotion.

This new city I’m going to live in, Tokyo…

This new challenge I’m going to face, a career as an actress…

If I think about it, among all the fans who were good enough to like the Takarazuka otokoyaku, ‘Mori Keaki’...

Perhaps there are some who will think,

“Now that she’s become an actress, there’s something lacking about Mori Keaki!!”

If so…

I’m sorry, but please keep the memory of the Takarazuka otokoyaku ‘Mori Keaki’ in your hearts, give up on the actress ‘Mori Keaki’, and continue to support Takarazuka.

I, myself, am satisfied.

Also,

I lived my way here naturally…

The human, ‘Mori Keaki’ did her best to get here… And everyone who supported all of me, even when I was not totally being an otokoyaku…

If I can continue having you as my fans, of course I will be so happy!!

Now that I’m living in a new city, and have a new ‘career’, even if everything ahead of me is just a blank sheet of white paper…

‘Well, that can’t be avoided.’

Is what I think.

But…

But,

But!!

If I can keep drawing your support, I’ll be so happy I could jump for joy!! I’ll be going!

The me of my real name.

The me of ‘Mori Keaki’.

The me from when I was performing onstage as ‘Mori Keaki’.

Even though both of them are definitely ‘me’.

‘...So?’

If I tried to think of circumstances I was so immersed in that I even forgot myself;

It was when I was a stage performer.

‘I think it was…’

When I was the actor ‘Mori Keaki’.

I have been thinking a lot.

I mean what I wrote earlier, about how I want to live with ‘good selfishness’.

It’s not as if I have discarded the dream of becoming a bride.

‘But…’

I want to keep on working as an actor!!

My beloved Takarazuka.

I learned so much through being able to perform as Top Star here.

It’s there in the dialogue for my last role, Ooishi Kuranosuke.

“I don’t have anything to regret now!”

In Takarazuka, I was full of that emotion

As I determined to take the first step in my next journey.

It might be silly, but I do believe in destiny…

I wonder if that current will sweep me along to some new trials.

Even so, I’ll take them all on! I’m definitely not going to give up.

I’ll keep putting in effort, effort, and more effort.

But, this new challenge, of an actress’ career.

Who knows if I’ll be as ‘lucky’ as I was in Takarazuka…

To say I was 100% unafraid would be a lie.

But, this is the tomorrow I have chosen for myself.

‘The only option is to just do it!’

If there really is a god of Destiny, or something like that.

I think they must be a playful, whimsical prankster.

For example, let’s say that the amount of Destiny being used on different people is generally at the 70% level.

God doesn’t ever mean to cause anyone unhappiness, I think.

And so, after that 70% baseline, if there are people who say ‘Is there anything more!?’ and keep running on ahead, forward-looking, I feel like they give them a present of Plus Alpha Destiny…

And then, if there are people who reach the 80%, 90%, 100% level, and keep earnestly saying ‘Hey, hey, what’s next!?’ they’ll respond ‘Now then, you’ve come this far… Well then. To be honest, this is a special favor, but…’ and give out 110% or 120% Destiny…

That’s kind of how I feel.

I feel like God must have been watching my failures and saying,

“Ordinarily, people would give up if they fell so badly.”

“Oh, look at that! You got up. Even if it makes you want to cry, don’t give up!”

“Well. Off you run again. Nothing discourages you, does it. Well, I’ll at least make sure there are no huge boulders in your way that would kill you if you ran into them. But it’s still going to be a rocky path. She’s definitely going to fall again…”

Although I have used God as an example here…

I think in reality, it was everyone who stayed by my side,

Who helped me train myself this way.

“Oh, look, she fell!! ...Ah, she got up again.”

Thank you so much from the bottom of my heart to everyone who watched over me and helped me, even though I could only keep looking forward and moving ahead.

Even though I’m sure I’ll fall many times from now on.

I’m not afraid of falling.

There are so many things I’ve discovered when I’ve fallen.

If I were to just keep running safely, there are so many things I wouldn’t know, about people’s hearts, different scenery, sounds, temperatures, words, expressions, so many things that happened and their responses…

Those are an actor’s nourishment.

It might be a bit grandiose that Mori Keaki, even if she falls, doesn’t ‘just’ simply get up again.

But if I were to fear falling, and hold back my energy to try to avoid falling again…

‘That doesn’t suit me at all…’

Is what I keep thinking.

From now on.

I’m still.

Going to be just like this.

I’m going to keep on being optimistic, looking up, and running ahead!!

Everyone,

I’ll be going!

[pennywaltzy]

Her Number (2/2)

So here is another finished commission from @chitarra10 ! I think I still owe some words and I have an Elementary commission to fill the rest of the word count, but I got motivated and decided to finish this one tonight instead of working on it in November. But enjoy!

Her Number - Mycroft finds himself reluctant to call Lady Smallwood, but conversely unable to throw her mobile number away, and is content to leave the situation as is until his brother decides to meddle.

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 2  | Help Me Survive? | Commission Me?

He had not been prepared for this particular visit from his brother, but he supposed he should have been. Sherlock had been closer not just to Dr. Hooper but to everyone in his circle, including his family. All of his family, much to his surprise, and he wasn’t thinking about their sister. He himself had been the subject of Sherlock’s attempts to become closer, and while he wanted to pout and be sullen and push Sherlock away, he realized something: hadn’t he been doing that almost his entire life, since after Eurus’s actions? After their uncle pressed what was to be his life’s duty into his hands and almost irrevocably changed the course of everyone in the Holmes family’s lives in the process?

So he relented and allowed Sherlock closer. But he still was not fond of unexpected visits.

And this one was no exception. He saw Sherlock standing by his desk, glancing at the various items on it, flipping through his calendar. His eyes widened as his hands swept across Lady Smallwood’s number, but Sherlock said nothing. “Not off saving the world?” Sherlock asked.

“I was just about to go off to an early lunch,” Mycroft said, biting back his irritation. “Would you care to join me?”

“Actually, you should join me. Us. Rosie is celebrating her first word. Or rather, we’re celebrating her first word.” Then he stopped and sighed. “There’s cake.”

“What was her first word?” Mycroft asked, merely out of social niceties.

“Mum,” Sherlock said quietly, looking down more at Mycroft’s desk. “It was a bit more painful than expected, but still. It means Mary isn’t far from Rosie yet.”

Mycroft softened then and went to get his umbrella out of its stand. “Lead the way, Sherlock. I’ll join you in your celebration if you will escort me back to the office when it’s over. We need to arrange another trip to Sherrinford. Eurus has indicated she may talk to you.”

“Alright,” he said with a nod, and then his fingers help up the paper Mycroft had dreaded he’d see. “Perhaps you’d like to bring a guest? Not to our sister, but to the celebration?”

Sherlock had a grin on his face now and looked remarkably younger with it on his face. Mycroft went over with his umbrella in one hand and snatched Lady Smallwood’s number out of his hands with the other. “I think she’s too busy to attend your soiree.”

“I think she’ll make time for you,” Sherlock said, his tone a bit more teasing than before. “You can’t be completely oblivious to how she looks at you.”

“Speaking from observing you, you spent seven years with Dr. Hooper’s charms being lost on you,” Mycroft said, the paper crumpling slightly in his fist.

“How much more you need to learn about me,” Sherlock said, practically humming with delight. “I knew she cared. I started to have feelings a few years ago but I stomped them down with cases and drugs and everything else because I thought Molly deserved better.” He reached for the number and snatched it back, but not without tearing it. “You’re not a bad person, Mycroft. You need a goldfish of your own to settle you, and Lady Smallwood is not a bad choice.”

“She is not a goldfish,” Mycroft said through tight lips. He reached for her number back but Sherlock merely danced away around him, smoothing the paper out slightly as he moved. “Sherlock, give it back.”

“If you won’t call, maybe I will. I haven’t annoyed her too much recently, I don’t think.” He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and only then was Mycroft able to snatch the bit of paper back. Sherlock paused, then held out his mobile towards his brother. “Fine then. If I can’t call her on your behalf, you call her. I dare you.”

“You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“No, I know very well who my father is. We have the same one.” Sherlock moved the phone closer. “Call. Her. You know you want to. Her code name is ‘Love,’ for pity’s sake. Call her and get it over with.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes and then took his brother’s mobile and looked at the paper, not really needing to because he had memorized her number since it had sat on his desk for such a long time, it seemed, before dialing it. He put the mobile towards his ear and waited.

“Why are you calling me, Sherlock?” she asked.

“It’s...not Sherlock,” Mycroft said, suddenly worried. “He’s loaning me his mobile.”

“Ah,” she said, a sudden warmth filling her voice. “It’s a pleasure to hear from you, Mycroft. I thought I would have to wait for you to call until Hell froze over.”

“I’d considered it many times, I just didn’t think you’d want to hear from me,” he said quietly.

“If I didn’t want to hear from you, Mycroft, I never would have given you this number.”

“I suppose that’s true, Lady Smallwood.”

“Alicia, please. And I’m just glad I did not have to wait so long. Would you like to take me up on my offer of a drink?”

“Yes, actually.”

“I know a very nice place. I can pick you up at seven tomorrow. It’s better if we arrive together, as its exclusive.”

Mycroft smiled slightly. “It’s not all that proper.”

“Then you may pick me up at seven. But still, you’ll be my honored guest tomorrow night and we can...talk.”

“I look forward to it. Take care.”

“I will. Tomorrow night, then.” There was a click on her end, and he handed the mobile back to Sherlock.

“Well?” Sherlock asked, pocketing his mobile.

“I’m afraid she won’t be joining us today,” Mycroft said. “We won’t see each other until seven tomorrow evening for drinks at an exclusive venue.”

Sherlock jumped up in the air, a wide smile on his face. “Brilliant! My brother has his first goldfish in forty-eight years.”

This time Mycroft did not hesitate to roll his eyes. “Rule one, Sherlock: never refer to her as a goldfish.”

“Then stop referring to my circle of friends as such,” Sherlock said, extending his hand. “Agreed?”

Mycroft considered it for a moment, then extended his hand as well and shook his brother’s hand. “Agreed.”

“Fantastic. I’m sure Geoff and Molly and John will have plenty of advice for you while we celebrate Rosie’s first word,” Sherlock said. “Shall we go? There may not be much cake left if Rosie gets her hands on it first, or else it will be a rather messy cake.”

Mycroft nodded, a small smile on his face while a feeling of warmth settled in the pit of his stomach. It was rather nice to have something to look forward to other than a family obligation or an impending national disaster. “Let’s be off,” he said, knowing that for at least a time tomorrow, he could, potentially, be quite happy indeed.