#but its been so long since the last the color blue chapter i published and all of that so im not sure if anybody would actually be into that

[dearestxiao]

real talk before I answer some asks... WOULD you guys want me to continue the color blue if I were able to? is that something you guys are interested at all in or want? and if so would you guys be okay with a 'the color blue: rewritten?' any thoughts? let me know!!!

[snek-panini]

It's been a few weeks since I had new books to share, but I finally got photos taken of the newest ones so today's the day. Here, have a book:

This is Across Tides and Currents, a Good Omens siren AU by Sodium_Azide and @doorwaytoparadise (hi. I hope I tagged you right). My favorite thing about this AU is that, at its heart, it's about learning to communicate with someone who is so different from you that you can't even physically speak each other's language, and yet you've still got so much common ground that you find a way. It's way lighter and more fun than that description makes it sound, though, so go read it if that's your thing.

The cover on this is Lineco book cloth, scrapbook paper printed to look like leather, and blue foil htv. The foil was actually a nightmare to do. The first time I applied it, it wouldn't stick no matter what I did, and the bits that did stick peeled off as soon as I touched them. I had to peel them up very carefully, cut a new image, and try again. Thankfully it worked the second time but I don't know that I'll be using the foil type again unless there's no other way to get the color I want. The non-foil metallic was so much easier to work with.

More book photos under the cut!

I went with a coptic bind for this one for a few reasons. The first was that I wanted to try one on a quarto-size book to see if I could. I also wanted to try the mitered corners thing I did when I bound Strange Moons, and see if I could have the same effect on the interior. (That bit didn't work out so well; the front is fine but I mismeasured the inside and the lines didn't match up, so I trimmed some pieces of cardstock to cover that up. I really like the layered look though, so that's fine. It's quirky.) The third reason is that not long before I decided to bind this one, the authors published a new chapter after two years of no updates. That's the best possible reason to have to change plans, and the glueless bind means that if they ever do that again I can just redo the stitching to add more pages. Win-win.

Getting whimsical with title pages here. This took way longer than I thought it would, probably because I don't like graphic design and I did it in Word where I do the rest of my typesetting. Usually what I do is grab an image and put text around it or on top of it and then just play with fonts and sizes, but this time I drew the lines and then made the text follow them. This is the first time I've used the word art feature since...probably 2009? I'd forgotten how. I have no doubt there are better ways to do this but if I'd had to learn a new program at that point I'd have quit. And I do think it was worth it--it's cute and fun and looks about how I imagined it.

Couple of photos of the inside. Sorry the first one's blurry, I had someone trying to get my attention when I took these. The section break image came from rawpixel, I just made it gray instead of black so it's more subtle. The fic has very nice illustrations that I specifically got the artist's permission to print and then I failed to get any photos of them when I did my little photo shoot. They look very nice, though. I swear.

The last image is something I've started including in my latest books. I'm calling them "A Note from the Bookbinder" and it's basically just me talking about why I chose that story, the experience of reading it for the first time, stuff that's going on in the fandom, stuff about the process like the new chapter coming out as I was preparing to print. It's kind of...like marginalia? Part of fanbinding is preservation and that's linked to archival work, and something I know archivists love is marginalia and diaries. I don't like writing in my books and I've never found any fun in journaling, but sometimes that kind of context is important so I'm trying to add it. Someday, decades from now, I may not remember all the details, so I'm trying to preserve them. IDK, this got philosophical on me. Go read about mermaids now. Promise it's a good time.

[rwritingblog]

The Amina Universe Overview (Part 1)

Hello Rebel here,

So I haven't been active much lately but I'm back now! This time I wanted to talk about an original idea that was really important to me. And that is the Anima Universe.

The Anima Universe is a project I have been working on for a very long time, since I first started writing in fact, and is a multiple series of novels that take place in the same universe. Kind of like the MCU which is why I jokingly call it my BCU (Book Cinematic Universe).

There are eight stories within the project, each with its own themes, characters, and settings. There are many things that connect them timeline-wise and each one affects the other but they still stand on their own. The stories are spilt across two general settings; Earth and a magical planet called Majjia. Plus one that takes place in the wider universe and has a sci-fi feel to it.

Below We'll go over one of the stories and it's characters.

The Magical Core

The Magical Core is the very first original story I ever created. I remember creating the concept for the main Character Celestia on my great-grandmother's porch years ago. I still have the picture I drew of her.

The story of the Magical Core involves a group of four girls; Celestia Nightmare, Zerenity Silver-Moon, and Roxxanne November as they travel through the world of Majjia in search of a woman who is extremely important to them, Saturn Stars. The book is planned to have 14 chapters and takes place over a few weeks. I have an outline for the entire book and have so, so many versions of almost each chapter. It just needs refinement before I feel comfortable publishing it. (BTW The book also changes POVs between certain characters)

Let's go over the protag of the story! (I'll do other characters at a later date I was going to do them all here but the post was getting long)

Celestia Nightmare

Celestia Nightmare is the protagonist of The Magical Core and is the character whose POV we see the most. She's the only daughter of Sally and Jack Nightmare, prominent figures on the planet of Majjia. Celestia comes from a very wealthy well-known noble family known as House Nightmare. Members of House Nightmare have been in so many history books. Like so many guys.

Celestia is an elf and one of the features of that species is the fact that their last names and magic are interconnected. If you have a last name like Earth you have an easier time using Earth magic. Celestia's last name is Nightmare which means she has the ability of fear magic. Fear Magic is a subtype of Empathy Magic, a type of magic that allows people to feel other people's emotions with the downside that they can never turn it off. Once they turn it on it can never be turned off.

Those who have fear magic can see a person's greatest fear and have severe nightmares that feel very, very, real. Most of the time those nightmares aren’t even theirs but someone else's.

Celestia's parents died tragically when she was nine. They were murdered by a group called the Knights of Blood, agents of the evil High Queen Blood Spill, during an event known as the Rosewood Massarce. (The entire town of Rosewood, where Celestia's family lived at the time, was burned to the ground, hence the name.) After her parents' death, Celestia was taken in by a family friend, Saturn Stars.

Celestia has long sunset-colored hair like this. The reason she has this hair color was because younger me poeticly described red hair as sunset and then I really thought about it and decided this look was cooler.

Celestia has complete heterochromia, her left eye is a gentle forest green while the right one is a sharp electric blue, both glow eerily in the dark. I have a narrative reason for this but the irl reason is that I couldn't decide whether or not to give her blue or green eyes and so I gave her both.

Celestia's style of clothing is very casual which matches her personality. She's seen more in ripper jeans or pants with at least a dozen pockets than a skirt. Her outfits are very celestial-themed and she's never seen without her vambraces—silver with a wolf engraving that once belonged to her father and gold with a phoenix engraving from her mother.

Celestia wields a jian sword known as Præstans Tantibus which once belonged to her mother. The sword features a midnight purple and black handle, with the Nightmare family crest delicately engraved into the pommel. The blade itself is adorned with the phrase "Lux lunae me ducet ubi sol non apparet." which translates to "The light of the moon will guide me when there is no sun in sight." and embedded symbols related to the sun god Rad.

Here's that symbol btw (Created by yours truly)

Celestia is such an interesting character and like I mentioned earlier was created on my Great-Grandmother's porch. Her name originates from Princess Celestia and Nightmare Moon from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. This origin is the reason she's so sun and moon-coded. I call her an eclipse and based her character arc on the day and night cycle.

When she was a kid she was daylight, bright and cheerful but when her parents died it turned her into sunset. The girl she was died with them and thus the sun set on Celestia of the past and created Celestia of the present making her twilight current. The sun has set but the moon has yet to rise, she's an empty sky slowly getting darker and darker.

Celestia is intelligent but also reckless and impulsive. She can be short-tempered, lashing out when things get too overwhelming. She's chaotic and things that make sense to her don't always make sense to other people. She's energetic, loud, and independent with an extremely active imagination. Celestia is loyal, adaptable, bold, and passionate.

She leads with her heart and is kind, empathic, and idealistic. Celestia is an extremely moral person and believes in doing the right thing no matter what. She's a bit of a mess because of the Rosewood Massacre PTSD and survivor's guilt are things she has. Celestia often feels like a ghost possessing her own body and while she can literally feel other people's emotions is detached from her own. She feels so much it's hard to determine what her and what's someone else. Celestia struggles to identify her own desires, wants, and goals, making her somewhat aimless.

The main themes of the book are life, death, and rebirth but not in the literal sense. A quote that has always stuck with me is this one.

"a dancer dies twice — once when they stop dancing, and this first death is the more painful.”

Which begs the question. Can you be reborn after an event that killed you? If there are two types of deaths there must also be two types of life. A literal one and a metaphorical one. This is why rebirth is a common theme. Each character has lost something important to them and must find a way to be without it and metaphorically be reborn.

Celestia, and each of the other main characters, represent rebirth within the story and each of them has death and life characters that represent a path they could have or could go down. The life character is who they could have or would have been had they not gone through their metaphorical death. Life characters are an ideal or a standard they can no longer live up to. While death characters are what would happen if they stay dead. What would happen if they let the pain control them. Rebirth is therefore them taking control of their lives as it is now and choosing to be better than both the life and death characters. Blazing a new path forward to create something that has never been seen before.

Celestia's life character is her mother, Sally Nightmare. Sally wasn't a cheerful person like you would expect from a character who represents life and has a sun motif. She was bright and mesmerizing. A fiery spirit who was charismatic, kind, wise, and hopeful. The ideal warrior and person in Celestia's mind who died protecting those she cared for. Sally is everything Celestia wanted to be and maybe would been if the Rosewood Massacre hadn't happened.

Celestia's death character is the villain of the series High Queen Blood Spill, ruler of the 13 United Kingdoms of Majjia. People talk about the High Queen in hush whispers and dare not speak her name using only epithets and titles like she's some sort of death god. Which is a way she is. The High Queen is strife and discord. Pain and torture. She's introduced sitting on a throne made of bone in a throne room covered in blood with people chained to the wall in various states of harm. Some are nothing more than decomposing corpses and others might as well be as they wait for death to claim them.

The High Queen is a bitter woman lashing out at the world for what it has done to her. She is who Celestia could become if she lets the grief of losing her parents consume her.

The life character is dead and the death character is alive but both haunt the narrative.

(For those who were curious here is the drawing I made of Celestia when I first created her like a decade ago)

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Three Is Company (Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes)

Summary: The first thing you felt upon realizing who your soulmates were was fear; you spent years avoiding the two men whose names were engraved upon your skin, dreading the day they met you and realized how ordinary you were. Your fear of disappointing them haunts you until one fateful day when the universe brings the three of you together... 

A/N: Hello! I’ve been itching to write a Soulmate AU, and when a wonderful anon suggested this story idea, I just couldn’t resist. WARNING: This fic contains dub con/non con. Read at your own risk! And please let me know what you think!!! 

It was hot outside. Intensely so. The asphalt and concrete of the city had trapped the summer’s heat in until it was stifling, rising up in thick heatwaves from the pavement. Your studio apartment was situated above an old, crumbling used bookstore, and your ancient A/C unit had given up three days ago during the hottest week of the year. Your landlord was getting it fixed soon, but you’d slowly been going insane as you spent your days laying beneath your ceiling fan, only getting up to retrieve glass after glass of ice water from your kitchen.

It was the heat that drove you out of your apartment on that fourth day, and it was the heat that made you break your usual self-imposed rules in regard to your choice of clothing. Ever since your 20th birthday, you’d vowed only to ever wear short-sleeves in the privacy of your home, and you kept your hair long enough to cover the nape of your neck, never daring to pull it up unless you were also wearing a turtleneck. It was safer that way, you’d told yourself.

No one but you could know your secret.

That day, though, you left your apartment in a pair of shorts and a white tank top, your hair thrown up into a bun as you nervously made your way down the street to your favorite café. You squinted in the sunlight and dug through your purse for your pair of sunglasses. Once they were securely on, marched onwards, eyes scanning the street around you closely. You dug your right hand into your pocket, keeping your forearm pressed against your body, and you’d left a few fly-away hairs loose at the back of your head; you could feel them tickling your neck with every step you took in your canvas-colored high-tops.

When you finally reached ‘Cool Beans’, you nearly moaned as a blast of air conditioning licked at your heated skin. People were scattered about the coffee shop; you hadn’t been the first to come up with the idea of seeking refuge within its walls. You ordered a strawberry smoothie for yourself, and when it arrived you pressed the cold, sweating plastic of its cup against your cheek as you made your way to a vacant sofa in the corner. You sat down and pulled your notebook out of your bag, seeing the flash of black letters against your skin with every movement of your right arm.

James Buchanan Barnes

You sighed, pushing the man out of your head as you started jotting down an outline for your next three chapters, hoping that no one saw. You’d made sure to sit with your back facing the wall, not wanting anyone’s eyes lingering on the name scrawled into the skin beneath your neck. Steven Grant Rogers was a name that too many people were familiar with.

Not everyone had a soulmate; in fact, only about a third of the population did. It was even rarer to have two, but you’d been among the lucky few. Or unlucky was more like it in your case.

You were terrified of both of the men whose names were permanently seared into your skin. Their lives were dangerous, full of villains who would stop at nothing to tear apart anything or anyone they cared about. You weren’t cut out for that lifestyle; you couldn’t handle constantly looking over your shoulder.

Or at least…that was what you told yourself.

On the days when you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore, on the days where you drank your feelings until your head spun, you knew that you were really just terrified of yourself, of not living up to them. They were both as powerful as they were beautiful, and you were just…you. A little girl living in Brooklyn, her head in the clouds of whatever novel she was working on at the time. The universe must have been laughing when it chose you to be their third soulmate. How could you live up to the two titans you were meant to love? And how could they ever want you?

You were so certain that you would disappoint them that you fell off the grid, keeping the identity of your intendeds secret to everyone who knew you. You published under a pseudonym and deleted all of your social medias, letting your fear control you.

Now, your 20th birthday was long past you, and it was the first time you’d been around so many people with your soulmarks visible. As you sipped on your smoothie and focused on the scratch of your pen against paper, though, you were starting to relax. No one had so much as batted an eye at you, and inspiration was finally taking hold as you planned out the course of your lasted work-in-progress.

You became so focused on your thoughts, in fact, that you didn’t even notice it when a hush suddenly fell over the coffee shop. People whispered amongst one another all around you as two sets of feet started making their way to the line in front of the barista. Your ears perked up when you heard the word ‘autograph’, though, and after finishing the last sentence you were writing, you glanced up towards the front of the café.

And you swore that your heart stopped beating.

Captain America – no, Steve – was smiling good-naturedly at the girl behind the counter as he scrawled his signature on the napkin she’d offered him, handing it to her while saying something you couldn’t quite make out. The man standing next to him was almost as tall as he was, and his long brown hair was pulled up in a bun. Despite the heat, he was wearing leather gloves and a long sleeved Henley, but you would recognize him anywhere even with his metal arm hidden.

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were standing less than thirty feet away from you, and you couldn’t fucking breathe.

You couldn’t help but stare as they placed their orders before shuffling around to the end of the coffee bar, waiting for their drinks as they talked with one another. Bucky said something that made Steve laugh, and you gulped as his eyes lit up and his mouth split into a wide grin. They were even more handsome in person…

You shook your head and looked down at your notebook as your heart beat frantically. You squeezed your eyes shut, pushing yourself to just think. They were right there – they could see you. You needed to leave, but what if they noticed you when you stood up? Maybe you should stay and lay low? But that would just be stupid, right?

Your breathing was heavy as your eyes darted upwards, and you felt your blood run cold when you found two pairs of blue eyes looking right at you. It was the look on their face that made you shiver, though. They knew you. They recognized who you were, despite you having never met. And that was when your instincts kicked in. Run, your brain whispered. Get. Out.

You immediately stood up on shaky legs, shoving your things back into your purse while keeping your right arm pressed to your abdomen. Your knees wobbled as you headed towards the door, and you forced your eyes downward as you watched your unsteady feet move.

As soon as your back was to them, though, you heard one of them suck in a breath, and that was when you remembered the name on your neck. You froze where you stood and clapped your left hand over it, spinning on your heel to look at them with wide eyes.

For a long moment, all three of you just stood there, not knowing what to do. You were starting to feel numb from shock, and your throat was growing tight as tears filled your vision. Not like this, not now, not them…

But then Steve said your name, the question just barely audible as it left his lips. Your arms fell limply to your sides, and Bucky’s eyes widened when he finally saw the words on your forearm.

“It’s you,” he murmured.

A sound that was dangerously close to a sob escaped your lips, and without a second thought, you turned and ran, pushing the café doors open and turning towards your apartment. Your sneakers slapped against the concrete, and you didn’t even feel the heat as you heard two sets of feet chasing after you.

“Please, wait!” Steve shouted. “We just wanna talk!”

You didn’t turn back, sprinting until you came upon the used bookstore. You almost tripped as you turned down the alleyway, not even aware that you couldn’t hear Steve and Bucky behind you anymore. Huffing and puffing, you climbed up the rickety stairs to your front door and fumbled with your key, shoving it into the lock roughly and jiggling it until it opened.

As soon as the door closed behind you, you leaned back against it, closing your eyes as you caught your breath. A flurry of emotions were raging within you, and your heart was hammering in your chest. You let your eyes close as sobs started to shake your body, and tears were starting to make their slow descent down your cheeks.

But that was when you heard someone clear their throat. Your head snapped up, and your lips parted in shock as you watched Bucky and Steve walk out of your bedroom, your open window just barely visible past the broad expanse of their shoulders.

“How…” Your voice trailed off, and your throat felt dry as you swallowed thickly.

The two men shared a glance, seeming to be able to read one another’s thoughts. They turned to you in tandem, and Steve took a deep breath in through his nose before speaking.

“…I really don’t know where to start,” he sighed. “This isn’t how we wanted this to go.”

You bit your lip to stop it from trembling, wincing when you heard the gears in Bucky’s arm shift as he clenched his fist.

“Why did you run from us?” he demanded, his shoulder brushing against Steve’s as he took a step towards you.

You shook your head and looked away, hugging yourself as they started closing in on you.

“I… I can explain-“ you began, but Steve just huffed and shook his head.

“Explain what? Why you tried to run away from your soulmates?” he asked. “Or how about why you’ve been running from us since you woke up with our names on your skin?”

You blinked in surprise, and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Honestly, doll, you think we haven’t known about you?” he scoffed. “You know who we are. We could track down anyone we wanted to.”

“Then why-“

“We didn’t want it to go this way,” Steve repeated. “We’ve been keeping an eye on you, waiting until you seemed ready for us. We didn’t mean to run into you at the café. But now that it’s happened…”

His fingers drifted towards your face, but you flinched away, suddenly realizing just how close they were to you.

“Wh-What do you mean, you’ve been keeping an eye on me? Have you… Have you been spying on me?”

“We’ve been making sure you’re safe,” Bucky insisted. “You don’t exactly live in the nicest part of Brooklyn, doll.”

“And since you made it clear that you didn’t want us around… We kept our distance. Tried to do this right,” Steve added. “We didn’t wanna scare you.”

“Well you’ve failed!” you exclaimed, shoving past them and backing up towards your bedroom. “I’m terrified. You tell me that you’ve been stalking me, and then you act like I’m the one to blame?”

“We didn’t ‘stalk’ you-“ Steve started, but Bucky stomped towards you, his jaw clenched.

“We wouldn’t have had to watch you,” he growled, “if you’d have just…just accepted us.” His voice broke, and you felt your heart clench as you watched him blink away tears.

“Are we… Am I,” he corrected, “really that frightening?”

You frowned, not understanding what he was implying, but then his eyes drifted towards his metal hand and you understood; he thought that he was the one to scare you, that his past was what kept you from wanting them.

“I… That’s not why,” you insisted. “That has nothing to do with it.”

Surprise flitted over the Winter Soldier’s features, and he seemed too stunned to respond. Steve sighed and set a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“I told you, Buck,” he murmured. He turned back to you, and that feeling of unease came back in full force. “But what was it, then? What was the reason why you didn’t want us?”

“It… It doesn’t matter now,” you stuttered, shaking your head. “You two are scaring me; I want you to leave. This isn’t… This isn’t right-“

“But it is right,” Steve insisted, caging you in between them. “The universe itself wants us to be together, hon. That’s why our names are on your body. And its why yours is on ours.”

He rested one hand on your shoulder, keeping you securely in place while the other pulled back the neckline of his t-shirt. In bold black letters, your name was scrawled over his heart. Your eyes widened, and you felt your fingers twitch with the sudden impulse to touch it. You refused to listen to that thought, though, and tried to turn around, but you only found yourself face to chest with Bucky. He brought his metal arm up to rest on your hip, and you couldn’t help but enjoy its cool sensation in the sweltering heat.

His eyes never left yours as he pulled the hem of his shirt up, and you bit your lip when you saw your name arched across one of his hip bones. Steve’s name was written across his ribs, just above yours, and you felt tears spring to your eyes. They were right here in front of you for the very first time, and you were starting to feel so much more than fear.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, jolting when you felt Steve’s lips descend onto the soulmark of his name written beneath your neck.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured. “Whatever the reason was for your running, it doesn’t matter. We have you now.”

“And,” Bucky added, grabbing your wrist to bring your forearm up against his mouth, kissing his name, “we’re never gonna let you go, doll. It’s gonna be ok; you’re with us now. Where you belong.”

You struggled one more time, but they were too strong; you didn’t even budge. Their smell was overwhelming – sweat and sandalwood cologne – and it was starting to drown out your better judgement. Steve’s mouth was working its way to the side of your neck, and you gasped when his cool tongue lapped at your skin before he started sucking a mark into it. Bucky, for his part, was running his vibranium fingers up your waist, leaving goosebumps in his wake. His flesh hand reached out, gripping your chin and tilting your face up to his.

“Don’t you want us, baby?” he whispered. “We feel it too, you know. The pull. Why do you keep trying to fight against it?”

You blinked away the moisture gathering in your eyes, feeling your resolve start to crumble as you stared up at his crystalline eyes; he was right. You did feel the pull – it was as if there was a string tied between your hearts, forever linking and binding you to them. It had always been there, but now that they were here with you, touching you, it was harder than ever to resist it.

“What if…” You gulped, looking down at his combat boots. “What if I’m not good enough? What if I disappoint-“

“No.”

Steve’s voice was hard as steel, and you found yourself being turned around by his hands, maneuvered like a ragdoll. His face was stern, commanding, as he looked down at you.

“I don’t ever want to hear you saying something like that,” he demanded. “Forces that are powerful and wiser than you or me have decided we’re meant for each other; it’s disrespectful of you to even doubt for a moment that they’re wrong.”

You let out a sob, trying to push him away, but he grabbed your wrists, holding them against his chest. You bit your lip to keep it from trembling as you looked up at him, finding that his countenance had softened considerably as he watched you.

“And, doll… You are everything we ever could have hoped for and more,” he promised. “We’ve been watching, remember? Everything about you, even the parts you think are ugly, only make us want you more. How could we ever be disappointed with such a gift?”

Maybe it was the years of self-doubt, or maybe it was the bond between the three of you, or maybe it was your own fear that made you act next. You knew, in the back of your mind, that red flags were still flying; you were still horrified that they’d stalked you, and the arms wrapped around you were no less constricting. But a wall came crashing down within you upon hearing Steve’s words, and with a soft noise of weakness, you cupped his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss.

It felt as if his lips were made of fire as he kissed you back. Bucky’s hands tightened on your hips as Steve’s came up to your shoulders, playing with your flyaway hairs as he moved his mouth against yours. Though you had initiated it, he took control quickly, wasting no time in swiping his tongue across your lower lip. He forced it inside of you, licking into your mouth as you clung to him. You couldn’t fight back the moan that arose when Bucky planted his own mouth on your neck, his teeth worrying at your flesh gently. Your toes curled in your sneakers, and your heartbeat threatened to drown out the wet sound of the kiss.

As soon as Steve pulled away, Bucky was moving to take his place, and you only had a second to gulp down a breath before he was kissing you. His lips were more chapped than Steve’s had been, but he was even more certain in his movements. His tongue brushed against yours expertly, and when he nipped at your lower lip, you let out what could only be described as a squeak. Your cheeks grew hot with embarrassment, but Bucky only chuckled and leaned in for another kiss.

Steve was not idle, though. His hands started playing with the hem of your shirt, pushing his fingertips beneath it to map out your heated skin. At first, it tickled, and you couldn’t help but smile against Bucky’s lips. But then his hands started moving upwards, and you were tense all over again. You pulled away, taking a step back and moving to shove your tank top back down, but both men didn’t let you gain any distance.

“C’mon, baby, don’t be like that,” the brunette chided as Steve tsked. “It’s just us. And we’ve waited for so long…”

Your eyes widened at his insinuation, and once again the Captain reached for your shirt.

“W-wait, I don’t… I don’t think I’m ready for, um…that,” you stammered, but all you succeeded in doing was making them laugh.

“Oh, my god… Stevie, she’s fucking adorable.”

“So innocent… C’mon, doll, don’t you trust us?”

You narrowed your eyes at their smiles, about to say that no, you didn’t trust them considering the situation. But you didn’t get to say anything before Steve was pulling you into another bruising kiss, hands on your cheeks. Bucky moved behind you once more, and this time you yelped when you felt cold metal against your stomach. A harsh ripping sound was heard, and you felt your tank top fall away. You tried to turn your head away, pushing at Steve’s shoulders and kicking at his legs, but he didn’t move a muscle. He just ignored your protests, seemingly wrapped up in your kiss.

Bucky hummed and ran his fingertips up the curve of your spine.

“You’re gorgeous, you know,” he mused, sounding as if he were talking to himself. “So much prettier than any dame I’ve ever been with.”

You tried to scream when his fingers went to the waistband of your shorts, and Steve pulled away with a heavy sigh.

“Baby, c’mon,” he chided. “This’ll help us grow closer. I promise it’ll feel-“

“Please,” you cried, your nerves coming back with full force. “Please, I… I liked the kissing. We could just kiss; I promise I won’t run anymore.”

Bucky hummed, his nose brushing against your shoulder as he kissed it.

“Sweetheart…” You jolted when you felt something hard press against your ass, and Steve pushed his palm over your mouth when you tried to call out for help again. “Does it feel like I just wanna kiss you? No, baby. I want so much more than that.”

“We both do,” Steve added. He grabbed one of your wrists, pulling your hand to the bulge in his jeans. Your eyes widened when you felt the hardness there, and you tried to pull your hand away, yanking your arm back so hard that your shoulder ached.

“There’s no need to be shy,” he smirked. “Unless… Wait, have you never done this before?”

Bucky froze, still gripping your shorts by their beltloops, and you nodded frantically. Steve pulled his hand away, and you once more took in a deep breath.

“I’ve never… Please, I don’t want my first time to be like this,” you pleaded. “I’m not ready; this is all happening so fast…”

But it didn’t seem like Steve or Bucky were listening to you. They were looking at one another intensely, as if they were reading one another’s minds. And, hell, maybe they were, to a degree – when you knew someone for as long as they’d known each other, you must be able to tell a lot just from one look.

“…C’mon, Stevie,” Bucky suddenly said, “You’re longer.”

“Yeah, but you’re thicker,” Steve reasoned.

“I’ve actually been with virgins before. Remember how good I was for your first time? We do not want a repeat of when I first let you fuck me.”

“I’ve gotten better! You know I have; last night I didn’t hear any complaining.”

“That’s cuz I had to teach you how to stretch me! Jesus, that first time I’m surprised you didn’t split me in half-“

Your eyes grew round with terror when you realized what they were arguing about, and you started flailing again, desperate to get away. No, no, this couldn’t be happening…

Your sudden frenzy drew their attention back to you, and both of them gripped you tight, holding you still against Bucky’s chest.

“Woah, woah, woah,” the soldier breathed, his long brown hair tickling your neck. “Calm down, baby girl. Neither of us is gonna split you in half; we can go nice and slow, ok?”

“Let me go!” you wailed, kicking at Steve. He easily dodged your legs, though, maneuvering you so your legs were off the ground, his pelvis pressing against yours. You winced when you felt just how big his erection had gotten, shying away from him. All that did was press you harder against Bucky, though, which he misinterpreted completely.

“See, Stevie? You’re scaring her. Just let me-“

“I don’t want either-“

You were cut off by Steve’s hand on your mouth again, and the two men shared one more look. Eventually, Steve relented, sighing and giving Bucky a nod.

“Fine,” he groaned. “But you owe me.”

You turned your head just in time to watch Bucky press a peck to Steve’s lips as he grinned coyly.

“Don’t worry, baby. I know how I can repay you later.”

He finally turned back to you, and you found yourself being carried into your bedroom. You gave up on your struggles, quickly realizing that there was no use in trying to fight them; you were no match for either of the super soldiers, much less both of them.

“That’s a good girl,” Bucky praised, setting you down on the mattress. He sat down beside you, and you scrambled away, pressing your back against the headboard.

“Now, doll,” he said, pinning you with a look. “This can go one of two ways. You can be good and stop your whining, or you can keep on fighting. But both of us know that fighting won’t get you anywhere. And if you just let us be with you… Hon, I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

You looked between the two men, feeling your anger start to drain out of you. Because in spite of yourself, of what they were doing, there was a part of you that wanted this. It was the same part of you that had kissed Steve; it was the same part of you that had wondered about your soulmates ever since your 20th birthday. You knew that what Bucky was saying was true; there was no escaping this situation.

After a while, you heaved a sigh and met the Sergeant’s eyes. You gave him a hesitant nod, and that was all he needed to see before he was pulling you towards him by your ankle. You yelped as your head hit the pillow, but the weight of him laying between your legs quickly took up your focus.

“Good, baby,” he sighed, rutting against you. “I knew you would come around.”

You felt the mattress dip beside you as Steve lay parallel to your body, running his hand tantalizingly down your thigh. You winced when he suddenly gripped your flesh and pulled on your leg, maneuvering it around Bucky’s waist. You could feel his hard-on grinding against your shorts, and shame seeped through your blood when you realized you were enjoying it.

Wordlessly, Bucky once more grabbed the waist of your shorts, finally starting to push them down your legs. Your panties rolled down with them, leaving you in just your bra, and both men moaned at the sight of your damp folds.

“Knew you wanted me,” Bucky sighed, his metal hand moving up to cup your pussy. You flinched at the sudden change of temperature, trying to close your legs, but Steve’s firm hand prevented you from doing so.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the Captain chided. “You’re doing so well. Just give in. Relax.”

Your body was still tight as a bowstring despite his words, and the man on top of you huffed out a little laugh.

“It’s ok to be nervous, doll,” he assured you. “But don’t worry. I’ll have you begging for it in no time.”

His fingers started spreading your folds, the vibranium gliding along your heated flesh smoothly. You bit your lip when his digits skimmed over your clit, and you could see Steve lick his lips out of the corner of your eyes.

“So pretty and pink, doll… Your pussy is so cute.” Bucky smirked, and one of his fingers slid inside of you without warning. You whined, letting your head fall back at the intrusion – it was only a finger, sure, and you’d fucked yourself with your little pink vibrator before, but it still stung.

Your breathing grew heavy as he started pumping his finger, curling it and working it in and out of you as the heel of his palm pressed against your clit. You shifted your hips, gasping at the friction it created against your bud, and you once again rolled them, this time upwards into his touch. It was fucked up, being used like this against your will, but your body didn’t seem to mind the violation.

Within seconds, Bucky was adding a second finger, and though you would never admit it, you welcomed the stretch. Your brows were furrowed with the effort it was taking to hold in your moans, but neither of your soulmates seemed to care.

“God, can you hear how wet she is?” Bucky breathed. Steve nodded, starting to unbuckle his belt.

“She’s gonna feel so good, Buck. I just know it.”

You chanced a glimpse over at Steve, and your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you watched him reach into his jeans, pulling his throbbing cock out. Your eyes widened at the size of it, and you quickly snapped your gaze away as he started stroking it lazily. Bucky caught your eye and gave you a wink, smirking as he started to scissor the fingers inside of you.

“See something you like, dollface?” he murmured. “Just wait till it’s inside you. Fuck, I can’t wait to see those big, pretty eyes roll to the back of your head.”

You gulped, opening your mouth to protest, but your words died on your tongue when he added a third finger. A moan escaped your mouth unbidden, and you clapped a hand over your lips to silence yourself.

“Hey,” Steve grumbled, pulling it away. “No, no, baby. We wanna hear you.” His words were thick with his suppressed moans, and you watched as his lips parted in pleasure as he pumped his cock.

“Fuck it, I can’t wait anymore.”

Your head snapped forward once again, and you whimpered as Bucky pulled his hand away and started undressing. He shed his shirt, first, leaving you to watch his muscles flex and contract as he started working his jeans off. Your gaze lingered on the angry scar that was wrapped around the line where skin met metal, and you winced at how red and irritated it looked.

Bucky caught you staring and grunted, throwing his jeans and boxers to the floor with an impatient flick of the wrist.

“Don’t look at it, baby,” he whispered. “I know it’s hard to take in. I’m still all man, though.” He took your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm before guiding it down his stomach. You closed your eyes as your fingers brushed against his cock, trying to tune out Bucky’s moan as he rutted against your palm. “See that, baby? That’s all for you.”

“You’re starting to make me feel left out over here, ya know,” Steve grumbled, his hand stilling on his cock as he quirked an eyebrow up at Bucky. The former soldier only smiled, though, and leaned down to kiss the blonde’s lips. You felt your pussy clench as you watched their mouths move against one another, biting your lip when you saw Bucky’s tongue slide into Steve’s mouth. You felt as if you should look away, not wanting to encroach on such an intimate moment, but when Steve pulled back and pulled you into an even more searing kiss, all of those thoughts went out the window.

As he was kissing you, Bucky knelt between your legs and spread your thighs wider. Your eyes snapped open you felt the head of his cock bump against your entrance, and Steve pulled back, pressing his forehead to yours and forcing you to look at him.

“It’s gonna hurt for a second, baby,” he told you. “But just relax; Bucky’s gonna make you feel real good.”

With that, you felt him start to push inside of you, and you wailed as he stretched your virgin pussy inch by inch. The moan that escaped his lips drowned you out, though, and you watched as he tossed his head back, the muscles in his throat working as he slowly bottomed out.

“Fuck, doll,” he panted, pressing a quick peck to your lips, “God, you’re fucking tight. Tightest pussy I’ve e-ever fe-elt…”

He moaned once again, biting his lip as he started circling his hips. Your pussy felt white-hot with pain, but you couldn’t deny that it was accompanied by a sense of pleasure. You were so wet, and so full, and the noises that both men were making went right to your cunt. You shut your eyes tight and tried to follow their advice, tried to relax beneath Bucky as he slowly started thrusting his hips.

“That’s good,” he praised. “Just enjoy it; lay back and let me take care of you…”

His thrusts started out shallow, just barely pulling back by a few inches before pushing back in, but he was still managing to graze your g-spot with every shift of his hips. His hair hung in loose tresses around his face, and his skin was already starting to grow slick with sweat. Steve, meanwhile, had already shucked off his shirt and his pants, and he was working on shimmying his boxers down when Bucky started moving faster.

“I-I’m sorry, doll,” he grunted, “I know I should be going slow, but you’re so fucking good…”

You let out a moan as he started snapping his hips harder, and your fists clenched around the sheets on either side of your hips. Your legs were splayed out wide, swaying with the movement of his hips, and once Steve tossed his boxers to the floor, his hands were on you. One of them trailed down between yours and Bucky’s body, his fingers seeking out your bud. His other hand was in your hair, pulling your head back as he attached his lips to your neck. You knew that, come tomorrow, you were going to be covered in bright purple bruises.

Your breath caught in your throat when Steve found your clit, and Bucky let out a sharp moan when your hips instinctively bucked up against his.

“That feel good, baby? You like it when Stevie plays with your cute little clit?”

You felt yourself nodding, and suddenly Bucky’s hands were behind your knees, pushing them up towards your chest as he fucked deeper into you. In this new position, you swore you could feel him in your stomach, but between the way his cock was hitting against your g-spot and the swirling of Steve’s fingers, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. Your fear, your pride, they both faded into the background as you were fucked into the mattress, and you were only vaguely aware of your own voice, moaning and begging for more, yes, more, please I need it so bad…

“You want me, baby?” Bucky growled out from behind clenched teeth. “You want this? Then prove it. Cum for me; I know you’re close. Cum all over me; do it now, doll, cum for me-“

Your head pushed back against the pillow beneath it as your body suddenly went taught. A strangled gasp left your lips as the knot inside of you burst, and just moments later you felt warmth flood you as Bucky found his release. Both of your voices were hoarse as you came down from your high, hips lazily rocking with one another as you rose out your orgasms. His eyelids were half closed, and his lips were just barely twisted up into a tiny, satisfied smile.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby… You did so good.” He leaned down, strands of sweaty hair brushing against your forehead as he pressed soft, gentle kisses to your temples and cheeks. You allowed it without complaint, feeling weightless the pleasure finally ceased washing over you. You leaned into the cold metal of his hand as he brushed some of your hair out of your eyes, and his smile grew as he watched you.

“Not to ruin the moment,” Steve said suddenly, “But I’m still waiting for my turn.”

Bucky let out a chuckle and rolled to your left, and two strong hands suddenly gripped your hips and pulled on you. You didn’t struggle as Steve manipulated your body, making you straddle him as his hands rested against your ass.

“I know you’re tired, baby, but look how hard you got me.” You looked down obediently at his cock, flushed a deep red and leaking a bit of precum. “You can do this, baby. I’ll help you. Let’s see if I can make you cum one more time.”

He guided your hips, and when you felt his head press against your entrance you gripped his wrists, your nails biting into his skin.

“N-no, wait-“

Your protests were ignored as he made you sink down onto his cock. Despite just getting fucked, your pussy still felt stretched as he slid inside, but you were so wet that he met with no resistance. Bucky had been right earlier; Steve’s cock was longer, and you felt it brush painfully against your cervix as your pussy finally rested against his pelvis.

“Oh, god…” You planted your hands on Steve’s chest for support, watching his eyelashes flutter and his lips part as he felt your tight, wet heat. “Fuck, doll, you’re… Shit, this is so good…”

“Language, Stevie,” Bucky snarked. You glanced over at him; his arms were crossed beneath his head as he watched the two of you, and his lips were bright pink and swollen from kissing you. You winked at you, actually fucking winked, and Steve let out a growl as he reached over to swat at his thigh.

“Shut up, jerk,” he grunted.

His hands once more found your hips, and you gasped as he started moving them.

“Ride me like this, sweetheart,” he begged. “Please, just… Move those little hips for me, just like that.”

Despite having just cum, you let out a moan as you did as he said, starting to roll and bounce your hips just like he’d instructed. Your walls were sensitive, and every time Steve bottomed out, you winced at the feeling of his pelvis brushing against your clit, but it still felt so good, so unlike anything you’d ever felt while pleasuring yourself alone at night.

You gradually started finding your own rhythm, leaning back to press your palms against Steve’s thighs for better leverage. The new angle made both of you let out a deep, drawn out moan, and unbidden you started to move faster, chasing your second release as it started building up inside of you.

Steve’s hands closed down on your breasts, squeezing them and watching them bounce as you rode him. His thumbs tweaked your nipples and you preened, arching your back at the foreign, pleasant feeling.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” he murmured. “How ‘bout this?” He leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, letting his bottom teeth just barely graze it before letting his tongue lave over it, tracing tight little circles against it.

You nearly screamed at the sensation, bouncing faster on his cock until he had to let his head fall back, his eyes screwed shut tightly.

“Shit, doll, you’re gonna make me cum,” he grunted. “Don’t stop; don’t you dare fuckin’ stop…”

His hands closed down on your hips again, and you glanced over when you heard Bucky moan. He was still watching the both of you, but you gasped when you saw him thrusting into his fist, his cock hard once more. He was biting his lip, eyes focused on your face, and suddenly your second orgasm was hitting you like a freight train.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your lips parted in a scream as you felt your pussy clench around Steve’s cock. You heard a muffled curse escape his lips, and he started thrusting up into you as your cunt fluttered around him. Once, twice, then three times, and he was spilling his seed inside of you.

You slumped against his chest, his cock softening before he shifted his hips, pulling it out as both his and Bucky’s cum started leaking out of you. If you had felt more present, you would have been ashamed of how that must look, but you didn’t give it a second thought as your head rose and fell with the cadence of Steve’s breathing.

“…Fuck.”

Both of your soulmates let out a laugh upon hearing you say that one little word, and you were tempted to crack a smile of your own. But then the gravity of what had just transpired washed over you anew, and you sat up in shame, looking between the two men who had just… They’d just…

“Shhh, doll,” Bucky cooed, pulling you down to lay between them. Two sets of muscular arms wrapped around you, and you felt a sob wrack your form as dread started to overtake you. “It’s ok, shhhh…. I know, I know. You’re feeling a lot of weird emotions right now. But it’s all gonna be ok.”

“He’s right, princess,” Steve murmured, ghosting his lips over your hairline. “Everything is gonna work out; you’ll see. Me and Buck are gonna take such good care of you. You’ll see, in time. You’ll love us, just like we love you.”

[unlockyourmind-wp]

OF STORM AND SIEGE | FINAN x OC | CHAPTER ONE

Summary:

Eldrid Byrnjarssdottir is born a storm. Her rage is like the wind beating the waves on the rocks. Her love is the thunder burning down entire forests. Her grief is like a hurricane, destroying the land with its raindrops. She isn't made for a soft or quiet life.

In her fight to find her enslaved mother and sister she has gained a merciless reputation amongst the Danes. Soon her fight leads her to the Saxon lands across the sea. There she is sought out by Young Ragnar who is looking for his brother Uhtred of Bebbanburg. Eldrid swears to Ragnar she will help him find his brother, unaware that finding Uhtred and his companion will change her life forever.

When they rescue Uhtred and his friend Irishman Finan the Agile, Eldrid's wild heart is confronted with a whole new path to follow. Finan seems determined to agitate her as much as possible, if only to break her walls and get her to smile. And no matter how much she might wish to bash his head in sometimes, Eldrid can't turn away from him. For maybe them meeting is what destiny had intended to happen all along.

DESTINY IS ALL.

Author’s note: hello everyone, for a while now I’ve been writing and working on my finan fanfiction. This book has also been published on wattpad but since a lot more tlk fans are here on tumblr I decided to published the book here as well! Have fun reading and if you want to be tagged in the next chapters, let me know!

Warnings: Blood, Violence

Word Count: 2340

CHAPTER ONE:

✧. ⋆ with every slaughter comes a cost

THE WAILING WIND AND SHUFFLING footsteps were the only sounds heard in the courtyard of the fortress. The watery morning sun colored the sky a pale blue. A color void of hope and warmth. A cold fog clung to Eldrid's clothes as she sat hidden between the battlements. She tried to ignore it the best she could and focused all of her energy on the rows of slaves stumbling along the ground below her. Her fingers brushed the string of her bow in anticipation. The weapon was placed on her lap, but firmly in her hands, ready to be used. Unease was growing within her bones as she sat there. What was taking them so long?

She sat as still as a statue while the sun continued the climb, clearing the fog with its golden rays. Eldrid was not known for being patient and it took her every bit of strength she had to remain seated and not go looking for her men. After all they'd been through she knew she could trust them and she did, fully.

And her patience was paid of. Her eyes caught sight of a white owl soaring the sky. A small breath of relief left her lips but she could not linger on it for too longer. Her body tensed up as she prepared for the chaos that would soon follow. Her eyes went back down to the courtyard where the slavers were busy with counting the rows of slaves that had gathered there. Her eyes fell on one man who had just entered through the gate, being pulled forward by the chains bound around his wrists and ankles. He was tall and had brown hair that fell over his shoulders. His features were sharp, like that of a hawk. Out of her father's three children, Bjorn looked most like their mother. So much so it had hurt to look at him when she was taken all those winters ago. Whenever Eldrid felt the memory of her slipping away, her eyes would find her brother and she would remember.

There was nothing, however, left to remind her of Yrsa. Her younger sister, as fair as the flowers that grew beneath the sun. Out of Brynjar's children she was the only one with warm eyes and a carefree smile. But nothing so fair was allowed to remain untouched in this world and Eldrid had forgotten what her soft features looked like. All she could remember were her pale hands, holding Eldrid's fingers tightly in a last, desperate attempt to hold on to freedom. She remembered like it happened yesterday. The feeling of her little sister's hands being ripped from her own as she was sold, ripped away from her home and freedom.

Which was the reason she was seated on the cold stones of the last Danish slavers fortress along the south coast at this very moment. From the sea to the Scandinavian lands to the east. She had rid every town, every market, of the men who dared to put others into chains. All while searching for her mother and sister. She knew it brought her father grief to see his daughter dedicate her life to violence and slaughter but his wishes had never held her back. She also knew he had made Bjorn swear to look out for his younger sister. Her brother, too loyal for his own good, would follow her to the ends of the earth and back. And maybe it had started because of a promise but Eldrid knew that was not the reason he had stayed.

For just a moment Bjorn glanced up at the battlements, almost as though he could sense she was thinking of him. Eldrid knew he could not see her, but he would know she was there. She could see his body tensing with the anticipation of the coming fight even from his distance.

One of the slavers stepped forward to search Bjorn for any possible weapons he might have hidden beneath his clothes. Eldrid knew they were expecting a rock, or maybe a stick but definitely not the short sword hidden in his breeches. Just as the slaver reached out his hands the white owl in the sky started making its descent. The animal dived down through the sky toward the slaver seated behind a table to count his victims. The very moment the owl reached the man and buried its talons in the slaver's eyes, the fight broke loose.

Bjorn reached for his short sword and pushed the blade into the slaver's throat. While Eldrid rose up from behind the battlements and fired her arrow into the chest of another slaver. Screams erupted all over the courtyard as the chained men and women searched for cover. Hoves came galloping through the gates. Eldrid's men came charging through the fortress like a storm send by the gods themselves. Every slaver met his demise by sword, axe or arrow.

Eldrid revelled in the chill left by the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her fingers ached from pulling back the string of her bow time and time again but she never lost her focus. Her arrows came raining down from the heavens like thunder send by Thor, striking down every enemy who had dared to take away the freedom of men and women alike. When she had fired her last arrow she lowered her bow, her eyes taking in the state of panic and chaos they had created. As always there would be one slaver left alive but it was never because of her. Anyone who would come close to her met his doom. Her sword was hungry and her heart was restless. She could not find the compassion within her soul to care about these men. Turning on her heels, Eldrid headed for the tower on her right hand. She kicked the dead guard aside, his lifeless body falling to the ground. She had used his corpse to block the door to stop anyone from entering the battlements without her knowing. She didn't spare the man a single glance, entered the tower and started descending the stairs to the battlefield below.

The bang of the door being thrown open echoed through the staircase. Hurried footsteps came running up the stairs. Eldrid reached for her sword and pulled it out of its sheath. She came to a halt and waited for the footsteps to reach her. A man came running around the corner, his panicked breaths were annoying to her ears. He was in such a hurry to get away that he did not even notice the Dane standing before him until he had almost bumped into her. His entire body froze, his eyes wide with fear as he looked up at her.

Eldrid raised her sword, pointing the tip at his heart. The man opened his mouth, maybe to pray or maybe to beg. She would never know. Because before even one word had left his lips she had pushed the steel of her weapon through his heart. A startled gasp escaped his mouth. His body jerked unnaturally before becoming still. She pulled her sword back and watched with little interest as his corpse collapsed to the ground.

Another set of footsteps came rushing up the stairs and Eldrid raised her weapon again, only to lower it when she saw it was her brother. Their men must have released him from his chains so he could join in the fight. His eyes went to the corpse of the slaver and for a second his eyes hardened with hatred before he managed to compose himself. When he turned to look at her all the hatred was gone and instead replaced with the calm wisdom she was used from him.

'There is no one left,' she said, pointing with her sword up the stairs.

Bjorn nodded. 'Then let's finish this.' He turned and headed back down.

Eldrid followed him as they made their way out of the tower and out unto the courtyard. Some men were working on freeing the slaves while others were searching the fortress for silver and food. In the middle of the courtyard was the last man of the fortress left alive. He had been forced on his knees and was being watched closely by Kara. The raven-haired woman held the tip of her sword against his neck, her eyes watching him with cold disinterest. But even more chilling was the white owl seated on her right shoulder. Blood colored its talons bright red and its menacing eyes were staring at the slaver as if the animal was questioning his right to breathe. Ice, for that was what the animal was called, had been Kara's loyal companion for such a long time that Eldrid could barely remember seeing her friend without her trusted friend resting on her shoulder.

As soon as Kara saw Eldrid walking towards her, she lowered the sword. The slaver seemed relieved, but it disappeared as soon as Eldrid stepped into his few. Eldrid had been told her eyes looked as wild as a wolf about to jump its prey during a fight. She hardly believed it but whenever men looked at her with fear on their faces, it was hard not to believe it. Raising her sword she pointed the tip right beneath the man his chin, lifting his head so he was forced to look at her.

'Do you know who I am?' She questioned, her voice stone cold.

The man opened his mouth to respond but did not seem able to answer.

A sigh left her lips and she pressed the tip of her sword against his skin, raising her eyebrows as a silent question.

Fear seemed to make it impossible for the man to speak and so she could only catch one mumbled word. Death.

She couldn't help herself and scoffed at the mention of the name she had been given by the people of Denmark. She had heard the whispers of the Lady of Death who travelled the coast with her band of merciless shadow-walkers. It was said she could into a wolf and that looking at her would mean your death. Eldrid had to admit that to be able to shapeshift would have been magnificent. But the idea that she had help from the gods in accomplishing all that she had made her want to scream in anger. The gods had long abandoned her. She had not come here because of sacrifices and mumbled prayers. She stood here because of her own strength.

It took her all her restraint to not push her sword through the slaver's throat right then and there but she needed answers and so she dropped her sword. 'Tell me, have you any knowledge of a woman named Asfrid and her daughter Yrsa?'

The slaver whimpered and shook his head. 'P-please, I see so many faces, hear so m-many names! I can not possibly remember them all.'

Eldrid leaned in closer to the man, her voice like a wolf's snarl when she spoke. 'They will have been sold to you by the Earl Harkon. And trust me, you would remember him.'

She could tell by the way the man started trembling that he did indeed remember. Earl Harkon had been a huge man and known throughout Denmark for his cruelty. Though he now roamed the endless cold depths of Hel in disgrace. She had made sure he would never feast in Valhalla. For what he had done to her family, she wished she could have killed him a thousand times over. But it was done now. He was gone and she was left trying to mend the wound he left behind.

'Who did you sell those women to?' She snarled.

The man made the quick decision that he feared her more than he feared the slaver he sold her family to and finally started speaking. 'I do not remember the name of the man. All I know is that he was setting sail to England!'

Hot fury coursed through her veins at the mere thought of her family in the hands of those weak, god-fearing christians. This man had condemned her mother and little sister to the wild ways of the sea and poisonous whispers of priests. Her rage burned all her rational thoughts away and with one motion she pushed her sword through the man's throat. She could hear her brother sigh behind her but she paid him attention. She watched as the life slowly drained out of the man in front of her before she pulled her sword back, the slaver's body collapsing on the ground. Only then did she turn to look at Bjorn and Kara, who had clearly been sharing glances behind her back.

'We could have gotten more information from him,' Bjorn said, his eyes burning into her soul.

Eldrid straightened her shoulders. 'He refused to talk and so I refused to spare his life.' She walked past her brother and towards one of the torches that was attached to the wall. After quick glance around the courtyard she saw all the slaves had been freed and her man stood waiting for her next command. She threw the torch on a cart loaded with hay. It caught fire immediately, the flames spreading to the surrounding walls. Soon the entire fortress would be a sea of flames. She turned to face her men. 'Burn it all,' she ordered.

While the former slaves made their way to their freedom, the Danes set the entire fortress on fire. They walked out with the silver, food and their lives. For not a single man had lost his life in the battle. Eldrid took the lead as they walked outside, her heart burning with anger.

'So, to England it is then?' Bjorn questioned, coming to walk beside her as they headed back to their camp in the woods.

'To England it is,' Eldrid confirmed.

The Lady of Death was coming for every Saxon who had dared to touch her family.

[cutieodonoghue]

dark gray (1/?)

summary: Killian Jones operates a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere, preferring a life of isolation, until one day a woman and a baby wash up on his little island and change his life forever.

read it on: ao3, ff.net

a/n: Hi! I know what you’re thinking… I’ve seen this story before, haven’t I? Yes. Yes you have. (Though, if you’re new to this story, hello and welcome, please enjoy!)

I deleted it a while ago thinking it wasn’t fair to leave it up unfinished if I had no plans to continue writing. But, literally out of the blue the other day, inspiration hit me and I was able to actually finish it! Can you believe it? I can’t.

So, rather than keeping it for myself and my own enjoyment, I thought I’d share with anyone who still wanted to see how this tale ends. I know it had a bit of a following and I still get questions about it to this day.

As an added benefit of this reposting, I’ve made some grammatical changes (because sometimes you re-read and you go, wow yikes I messed that up lol) and added some extra bits here and there to add some color and zing. May as well, right?

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! And I swear it’s going to be finished this time. I have an actual ending written and ready to publish!

If you just want to read the new parts, tune back in for chapters 14 and onward :)

Love you friends! <3

///

One

He slams the front door closed and it squeaks on its hinges, swinging and clattering against its cracked and broken frame.

He shoves his fist into his jacket pocket, straightening his gaze ahead of him with a white huff of his breath in the frigid air to mingle with the fog that has descended onto the island.

His boots crunch on the rocks as he carries himself onward and he takes note of all the things he has in store for his day. It isn't much, never is, and he curses his sailor's blood for the ungodly hours.

The ground is still damp from last night's storm and the air still smells of it. It had been an unruly thing, the storm, and he'd woken several times at the sound of lightning spiking nearby.

As he walks toward the lighthouse, he shifts his gaze to the ocean that's lapping up against the shore nearby. The water sprays at him and he grits his teeth, breathing in salty gusts of air through his nose.

He narrows his eyes, stopping dead in his tracks the instant he notices a lump lying at the shore, the foaming water washing over every few moments.

The blood drains from his face and his heart begins to pound just a little bit faster, a throbbing beginning to sound in his ears.

He stares for a moment longer, then shifts his gaze a little further up the shore to a brown basket nestled in seaweed and wet sand.

Curiouser and curiouser.

His brow furrows slightly and he pulls his hand free from his jacket so he can comb through his hair nervously.

He starts for the two washed up mysteries quickly, breaths coming out in nervous, shaking huffs, and when he reaches the blue lump, he kneels down beside it.

It's a woman.

She appears to be a few years his junior with sopping wet blonde hair and fair skin. When he examines her, she's breathing, but she's passed out cold. There’s blood oozing from a wound in her forehead and he's sure something's wrong with her leg, because it's twisted obscurely.

He winces a little, unsure of what to do. He's about to stand and lift her over his shoulder to help her when a high-pitched squeaking and crying emanates from a little further down the beach in the brown basket.

He can hardly hear the ocean now with how loudly his heart races in his ears.

He rises slowly, cursing under his breath as he makes his way toward it.

"Bloody hell," he mutters, looking down at the basket.

There is a baby, not a small baby, but a baby nonetheless, lying inside, wrapped tight in a blanket, squirming and crying. It's cheeks are red and it looks absolutely miserable.

He can't blame him. A day like today leaves much to be desired.

Killian Jones crouches down beside the child and holds out his arms, glaring briefly at his hook for a left hand, then, with a shake of his head, he reaches in and carefully lifts the child into the crook of his arm.

Having never held a screaming baby before in his entire life, he hasn't a clue of what to do. He bites down on his tongue and grimaces.

"Quiet down," he tries, "You'll get nowhere crying like that."

The child, miraculously, stops.

Killian sighs. "Let's get you inside then. Can't have you out to freeze, hm?"

He stands again, reaching down for the basket with his hand before turning to trudge back to his residence. Worry fills him from head to toe as he looks at the woman again.

Since she's out of it, she can wait until he's settled the child down. He thinks he knows better than to leave such a small human being out in the cold of the morning with no nourishment or comfort.

The baby squirms in his hold and he winces again in fear, because it isn't as if he has a firm hold on the fragile being. He finds his pace quickening almost instinctively.

Killian pulls the door open with his index finger and it slams behind him loud enough that it makes the child cry again. He starts hushing it as he sets the basket on the table in his kitchen, knocking over a bottle of beer from last night in the process.

He doesn't bother to clean up his mess, deciding to take the child into the small living room off of the kitchen where he builds a cradle of sorts out of blankets and pillows he can find.

He settles the fussing child down into the center of the mess and goes to stoke at the fire that's dying out in the fireplace. While it's warming up, he goes into the kitchen for milk.

He thinks that's what babies eat, right?

He isn't sure if it should be cold or warm and hesitates with the milk glass for a few moments, struggling to even find something to use that will fit in the child’s mouth. He decides on using a cleaned beer bottle for the time being and warms up the milk in the microwave before pouring it into the bottle and carrying it into the living room.

"Here we are," he says gruffly, setting himself down next to the lump in his couch. He awkwardly shifts the baby and uses his thumb to cut off the flow as he settles the lip against the child's mouth. "In we go. You're hungry, aye?"

It takes a few moments and some of the milk dribbles out on the baby's chin, but eventually, all of the milk goes straight into the hungry child's stomach, the baby's eyes falling closed as it continues to suckle.

Killian figures he'll have to find something to use as diaper cloths. He'll do that after bringing the woman inside.

It's a mystery to him how two people could wash up on his island.

It isn’t as if he’s in a highly trafficked area. It's not even in a shipping lane. In fact, ships rarely come along- only for his monthly supplies.

After the boy finishes the milk, Killian puts the beer bottle on the floor and looks down at the child with a furrowed brow.

He hasn't spent nearly enough time around children to know what to do with him now that he's eaten, and Killian sighs as he decides to strip him of the damp blanket and outfit he's sporting.

Killian tucks the boy into the pillows and blankets again, covering him up so he thinks he's warm, and then carries the wet and cold items over to the fire, hanging them to dry.

With one final check on the sleepy child, he nods to himself and zips up his coat to go grab the mystery woman.

He isn't a horrible man. He likes to think himself rather good on his better days. But he isn't a man who enjoys the company of others. In fact, one of the reasons he's still on this island is because he can't stand himself around others.

He can't trust himself around others.

Killian takes a sharp breath of the cold air and lets it back out of his nose, eyes set determinedly on the blue and yellow lump on the shore.

When he reaches her, he sighs, balling up his hand tightly into a fist before leaning down to scoop her up and onto his shoulder. He's careful with his hook and he grunts a bit when her weight is added to him. She's not very heavy, but he's not used to carrying much weight, so he is quick when he makes his way back to his home.

He moves with expertise through the small residence to his bedroom, the only bedroom, and settles her down on his bed.

She's absolutely soaked to the bone and incredibly cold to the touch. Her blonde hair fans around her head, some of the strands sticking to her peaceful cheeks and forehead.

She's still blissfully unaware of anything that's happened, so Killian hesitates for a moment longer before deciding to start the fire in his room.

As soon as the flames breathe warmth into the small room, he goes to the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulls out blankets to cover her with.

He decides that he should take her dress off to try to avoid hypothermia, so he takes a deep breath, leaves the blankets at her feet, and sets to peeling the wet article from her flesh.

Luckily for him, she's out enough that she doesn't wake as he's taking her britches off, and he purposefully covers her with blankets before he goes to find her something of his to wear in place of her dress while it dries.

Carefully, Killian puts a long sleeved shirt over her top and a pair of loose-fitting pants over her bottom, then slides a pair of socks over her feet and covers her with three blankets, ensuring her entire body is tucked safely and securely beneath them.

Her teeth have begun chattering, a new development that’s somewhat assuring.

In the process of slipping the pants on, he'd noticed bruising around her right knee and his thoughts easily drift to wondering what could've happened to her, but he can't know until she wakes, so he stores his curiosity and continues to ensure she's sufficiently warmed.

He figures he'll have to tend to her wounds later when she's awake and can tell him more and decides to go check on the child instead while she sleeps.

Killian leaves his bedroom after draping the woman's clothes over the fire to dry. His boots clump along the hardwood floor noisily and he sighs as he settles onto the couch beside the sleeping babe.

If there was anything he'd imagined his day as being like, it wasn't this.

He was supposed to check on the lightbulbs and make note of what needed fixing after the storm, get started on the list, and then drink himself to sleep after a supper of whatever he might scrounge up.

He isn't sure he can just leave the child and the woman here, not when they might wake up at any moment, so he watches the tiny being as he breathes before nodding in affirmation and carrying the tentative baby bottle into the kitchen.

Killian goes about fixing a stew from what he's got in the pantry and figures a way to feed the child with things in his cabinets.

He's sure the woman will be quick to mother him. Perhaps the child belongs to her- he isn't sure.

And anyway, he won't be stuck with them for very long. Just four weeks before the supply ship comes and he'll send them out and away from him again. He'll just have to deal with them in the meanwhile.

He settles back against the cabinets as the stew cooks on the stove, thinking about what he'll do about sleeping arrangements for the coming few weeks, when he hears the child erupt into a screaming cry.

He springs to work, grabbing the already heated milk from the stovetop and bringing the new bottle with him so he can comfort the infant if it's what it needs.

Killian sits beside the lump of blankets and pillows and lifts the child, whose fussing comes to hiccups as he settles him into his arms.

He frowns at the baby. "'s that all?"

He doesn't enjoy holding the child. It's awkward and uncomfortable and it reminds him all too much of a past he'd very much like to forget, so he sets the boy down again and is greeted by his wails once more.

He growls a little, shaking his head.

"You don't understand," Killian says sternly. "I can't hold you."

For a moment, they're sitting there in a stare-off of sorts, and Killian locks his jaw, shaking his head again before opening his mouth to reprimand the shrieking child when his bedroom door opens.

His gaze shifts immediately to the woman, who looks pale and sickly, leaning against the door jamb with all of her weight.

He stands, holding his arms out as she staggers a little.

She swallows and opens her mouth, looking down at the screaming bundle of flailing limbs on the couch.

Killian hastily lifts the boy into his hold to quiet him again and it works. It's overwhelming to hear his cries, to say the least, and when he moves to go to her, she follows him with her emerald eyes.

"Where am I?" she asks, voice wavering.

He shakes his head. "Don't worry yourself with that. You need to get back into bed."

Killian sets the child down with a wince of anticipation, receiving what he prepared for when the child bursts out in upset. He herds the woman back into the room and watches her cautiously as she limps back to the bed.

She groans and pain creases her forehead when she lies back down. "I heard... crying."

He nods and somehow tucks her back in under the blankets.

"Aye. Apologies. The child appears to have quite the set of lungs." She blinks a few times and he finds himself without words. "Is he… um, yours?"

The woman shakes her head, wincing a little. "No."

Killian runs his eyes down to the base of the bed and shakes his head again, a sigh slipping from his lips at the development. He looks back to her face.

"I'm Emma."

Killian hesitates, shifting a bit on his feet while he examines her sick face. He doesn't know what to do about her. She's clearly running a fever and it's not like he can force her to rest if she doesn't want to.

"Emma, why don't you get some sleep? You don't look well."

She scoffs, closing her eyes. "There was a storm and I fell from the top deck of the ship. I think I broke my leg."

She winces, then reaches down to pull the blankets away.

Bloody maddening woman.

She examines the leg with pain written in her features and he mentally groans, because he certainly is no doctor and she's stranded here with him for another few weeks.

"I could... try and set it," he tells her quietly. Her gaze flits over to him and he sees apprehension in those solid green eyes. "I set many bones in my time in the navy."

She studies him for a second before falling back with a loud sigh.

"Fine."

He eyes her warily, unmoving.

From the other room, the child is still screeching and sobbing and it's making his blood boil angrily, because he is no longer on his own. He no longer has the stability and security of being by himself. He has two people, two needy people, that he's responsible for.

In all of his time as caretaker of the lighthouse, it's been task after task and menial chores, followed by drinking and television- if the damn satellite worked.

It gets lonely, but he's better that way. He can't hurt anyone if he's by himself.

As his hand settles against her bare leg, he searches for the break. He gives her no warning, which in hindsight was a bloody awful idea, and she screams when he sets the bone with a loud crack.

Two screaming strangers in his tiny home on an island in the middle of nowhere. Bloody perfect.

[andrewmoocow]

Steven Universe Alternate Future chapter 7: Rejuvenated (originally published January 18, 2021)

Author's Note: And so, we reach the penultimate chapter of Part 1! It was once stated that an episode featuring Rhodonite was in the works for Steven Universe Future where we would explore how her components met along with the debut of Morganite, but that was unfortunately scrapped because there was enough content to turn it into a whole two-parter, along with not heavily featuring Steven enough and not being relevant to Future's plot. Well, I'm gonna try and prove the Crewniverse wrong by condensing what they planned to a manageable level, and you will have to bear witness to it!

Synopsis: Peridot builds a device that tells how many times a Gem has been rejuvenated, and it reveals some shocking secrets about Rhodonite.

Cast:

Zach Callison as Steven

Matthew Moy as Lars

Enuka Okuma as Rhodonite

Kathleen Fisher as Fluorite

Erica Luttrell as Padparadscha Sapphire

Ashly Burch as Rutile Twins

Estelle as Garnet

Charlyne Yi as Morganite's Ruby

Deedee Magno-Hall as Pink Pearl/Volleyball, Morganite's Pearl

Amy Sedaris as Teal Zircon

Shelby Rabara as Peridot

Olivia Olson as Citrine

Patti LuPone as Yellow Diamond

Lisa Hannigan as Blue Diamond

Christine Pedi as Holly Blue Agate

And featuring Hayley Kyoko as Morganite

--

"Now then, you two, keep yourselves steady, in both body and mind." Garnet instructed Rhodonite and Padparadscha Sapphire in the ways of yoga atop the central tower of Little Homeworld. "It is of utmost importance to keep those instructions in mind in life."

"Okay, keep myself steady. Keep myself steady." Rhodonite nervously repeated her fellow fusion's instructions to herself. Unfortunately for her, she could barely keep the pose she assumed up. "Whoa! I can't do this!"

"You can Rhodonite, just relax your thoughts." Garnet continued teaching.

"Ooh, Garnet is going to give some excellent advice that could change our lives!" Padparadscha Sapphire exclaimed happily.

"Precisely." Garnet remarked to the defective Sapphire. "My teachings could help you in the long run."

"ATTENTION STUDENTS OF LITTLE HOMESCHOOL!" Peridot's nasally voice cried out, causing the two Off-Colors to lose balance and fall to the floor. "I'VE COME TO MAKE AN ANNOUNCEMENT!"

"Even after two years of coming here, Peridot's voice still gets on my nerves a bit." Rhodonite muttered as she got up from her fall. "But don't tell her I said that!"

"And now Peridot is calling everyone because she has something amazing to tell us." Padparadscha stated. "What fun!"

"I'll take you guys down." Garnet declared before she grabbed the two Gems by the hand and raced to the edge of the roof.

"You know, we could just take the-" Rhodonite began nervously before the three Gems jumped off the tower. "STAAAAAAAAIRS!"

Garnet landed safely, yet dramatically, on the ground below, where many Gems gathered around Peridot as she began to demonstrate what she wanted to show them all.

"I would like to present a project that I've been working on ever since last year's Spinel incident." Peridot announced as a rod-like device emerged from her gem. "This is a Rejuve-Meter." She stated. "See what I did there? Anyways, this little gizmo works a bit like carbon daters here on Earth, and can help with examining how many times a Gem has been rejuvenated! Would anyone like to be a test subject?"

"Ooh, me! Me!" Teal Zircon exclaimed while raising her hand.

"I applaud your eagerness TZ." Peridot thanked the Zircon before scanning her with the Rejuve-Meter. The screen rotated through many possible numbers before it settled on 2. "Says here you've only been rejuvenated twice. What could possibly cause either incident?"

"It was a few honest mistakes, I swear it!" Teal Zircon revealed. "Cross my gem and hope to be shattered, the memories I make are all that mattered!"

"Okay then. Anyone else?" Peridot began looking around the huddled Gems before she spotted Volleyball among them. "You there, come on down!"

"Oh, me?" Pink Diamond's former Pearl gasped as she stepped forward.

"Yes, you." Peridot grinned before scanning Volleyball with the Rejuve-Meter. Compared to TZ, Volleyball caused the device only to say 1. "Only one time?"

"My Diamond was playing with a Rejuvenator and got me reset by accident." Volleyball confessed. This seemingly offhand comment caused Rhodonite to freeze up at the mere mention of rejuvenation, like she was flashing back to a similar incident.

"Interesting, interesting." Peridot muttered as she continued scanning each of the Gems around her.

"Hey, Garnet, what's going on?" Steven asked, weaving through the crowd to greet Garnet. "And how did teaching Rhodonite and Paddy go?"

"It went well, until Peridot caused them to lose balance because she wanted to show off this new device she built in response to Spinel." Garnet explained. "She says it can help her scan Gems for how many times they've been rejuvenated."

"Uh, yeah!" Rhodonite laughed nervously. "W-what she said."

"Is something the matter Rhodonite?" Steven asked the Off-Color fusion. "You're looking real tense. Should I get Lars?"

"I feel like the idea of rejuvenation is making her skittish." Padparadscha pondered. "But, what do I know?"

"I feel like you might need some help." Steven encouraged Rhodonite as Peridot made her way to the two.

"Okay, according to the Rejuve-Meter, all the Gems present have been rejuvenated up to three times each. Nothing too severe." Peridot said. "Now, let's see how many times you were rejuvenated."

"No, I don't think that's really necessary!" Rhodonite yelped, but her urges proved fruitless as the Rejuve-Meter did its job, but the results it got were quite shocking.

"And your components have been rejuvenated….." Peridot paused for effect as she examined the meter and got quite a surprise. "My stars, SEVENTEEN TIMES?! HOW, AND WHY?!"

"I-I-I!" Rhodonite stuttered, when Fluorite and the conjoined Rutile twins came up to her.

"Is anything the matter?" the grandmotherly six-Gem fusion asked with concern in her slow tone.

"My sincerest apologies Fluorite." Peridot apologized to Fluorite. "It's just that I made this little device that allows me to discover how many times a Gem has been rejuvenated, and I think I may have accidentally made Rhodonite here uneasy about it since she may have been rejuvenated in the past."

"Oh, it's alright Peridot." Rhodonite said as she patted the little green Gem on her triangular hair with one of her small arms. "We know you didn't mean any harm."

"Besides, Rhodonite joined us because she was looked down upon for being a fusion between two different Gems." The left Rutile stated. "Especially her original owner."

"Which means she may have something to do with this." The right Rutile added.

"Yeah, it was a Morganite, right?" Steven asked, causing Rhodonite to nod meekly. "Well, looks like we're headed to Homeworld then!"

"Rhodonite has a problem, so we must return to Homeworld to solve it!" Padparadscha declared.

--

"I can't help it if I make a scene, stepping out of my hot pink limousine." Lars quietly sang to himself as he swept up the floor of his space-themed bakery. "I'm turning heads and I'm stopping traffic. When I pose, they scream, and when I joke, they laugh." His cleaning would have to wait when he heard the door open. "Ah, welcome to Spacetries. How can I help, Steven?"

"Hey Lars, long time no see." Steven greeted the pink teen as he entered the bakery with Rhodonite in tow. "We need to talk about Rhodonite. Peridot was showing off this little gizmo she built that made her super uncomfortable, and we think it may have something to do with when she was created on Homeworld."

"We believe it may have been caused by the Morganite who originally owned the Ruby and Pearl she's made of." Fluorite added. "Do you think she could still be around?"

"How should I know?" Lars asked while putting away the broom and taking off his apron. "Most of the time I spent on Homeworld was being forced into a trial, dying, and then trying to escape after I came back to life."

"Well, I think we might need a lift there." Rhodonite declared. "You wanna help?"

"Could take a little bit to get there, but anything for you guys." Lars accepted happily. "Blue Lace, watch the shop while I'm gone!"

Blue Lace Agate gave Lars a thumbs-up as he left the shop to see the other Off-Colors outside.

"Can't we just take the Warp Pad?" Lars asked while the group walked away from the bakery.

"The nova thrusters are as good as new, right?" Steven responded with a question of his own.

--

Within a few hours, the Off-Colors had finally reached the Gem Homeworld. Since it had been so long since they had escaped their formerly oppressive home planet, Homeworld has changed dramatically in the passing years. There was lots more color, plant life was abundant, and Gems were milling about to do whatever they please without fear of persecution from the dismantled caste system.

"Okay, Morganite should be around here somewhere." Lars stated as they disembarked from the Sun Incinerator. "Any idea where?"

"Why don't we ask around?" Steven suggested.

"Last I remember, Morganite lives in this big palace that looks like one of those pagodas on Earth." Rhodonite explained. "Though since I've refused to go back there until now, I've pretty much pushed the location out of my memories."

"Why don't we try asking around?" the left Rutile suggested. "Maybe try that Citrine over there?"

The Rutiles pointed to a large, muscular yellow Gem with her gem on her stomach, a distinctive mullet-like hairstyle, a stern expression on her face, and an unsettling eye twitch that she showed as the Gems walked over to her.

"Can I help you?" the Citrine asked with a glare.

"We don't want any harm." Steven told her. "We're just on the lookout for a Gem named Morganite. Seen her anywhere?"

"Oh, you're looking for Morganite?" Citrine said as her expression softened into something more genial. "Yeah, she lives in the big pink skyscraper, can't miss it." She thumbed over to a tall building not too far away that was colored in varying shades of pink and had a predominantly Oriental appearance. "Here, I'll take you there."

"Isn't it wonderful?!" Padparadscha cried while Citrine signaled for a carrier to bring them to Morganite's palace. "The most wonderful Citrine will give us a lift to Morganite!"

"One of those Off-Color Gems, I see." Citrine commented as the carrier arrived. "Okay everyone, all aboard."

"So tell me, what's Morganite like?" Steven asked Citrine. "Is she as okay with Era 3 as everyone else? Because I've met a few Gems who aren't too happy with it."

"She doesn't really care." Citrine answered. "Just as long as she continues her design work. Back in the day, she was highly acclaimed in our society for her visionary designs, especially her work on the Diamonds' palanquins."

"Sounds like she'd fit right in at Little Homeschool's art classes." Fluorite remarked.

"Yeah, but she also had strong views against cross-Gem fusions when we served her." Rhodonite stated. "It's why we fled and eventually met the other Off-Colors."

"How much longer till we reach her?" Lars asked Citrine.

"Not too long now." Citrine replied as Morganite's building began getting closer. "Okay, we're here." She announced, stopping the transporter.

Steven, Lars, Citrine, and the Off-Colors now stood before the pink pagoda-like building, staring in awe of its beautiful architecture. But within the gorgeous structure lay some dark secrets of the past that Rhodonite was ready to contend with.

"You ready?" Lars asked Rhodonite, who tightly held his hand in exchange.

"I'm scared." Rhodonite muttered.

"Don't worry. We're all here for you." Steven alleviated the fusion's fears by holding onto her hand.

"Rhodonite seems afraid, but she knows we'll all be by her side." Padparadscha declared calmly.

"Us Off-Colors gotta stick together." The Rutiles said in unison.

"We're your family." Fluorite said.

"Okay, enough heartfelt found family moments." Citrine chuckled at the heartwarming scene before her as she knocked on the door, causing a holographic projection of a small, pink Gem soon appeared from the top of the doorframe. "Hello?"

"State your name and your business." The hologram demanded.

"I'm Steven Universe." Steven said to the hologram. "I'm here because we've got some old subordinates of Morganite here with us."

"Excellent." The hologram said, and the doors soon opened. "Please enter single file, and do not make a mess of things."

With that, the group got in line, Rhodonite in front with Steven behind her, and strolled into Morganite's tower.

--

Upon taking the elevator that took them to the tower's top floor, before Steven, Lars, and the Off-Colors was a small, pink Gem with pale skin dressed in a kimono and her dark pink hair in low pigtails. She was kneeling to the ground in deep meditation, and had a certain Gem device hanging over her head as a decoration.

The very sight of this Gem turned Rhodonite's paranoia into a very uncharacteristic rage, and she marched straight up to the little Gem before angrily picking her up. "You! I knew you'd still be here, now fess up!"

The Gem slowly opened her eyes and gasped in fright at the angry fusion violently interrogating her. "Oh no, someone help!" she cried. "Wait, I remember you!"

"So you do remember me, huh?!" Rhodonite snarled while Steven and Lars tried to keep her calm. "Why don't you tell me why I was rejuvenated SEVENTEEN TIMES before I toss you over the edge?!" she threatened, turning her head to face a door leading to one of the balconies of the top floor.

"Rhodonite, please!" Steven exclaimed.

"I get that she traumatized you, but you would never try to hurt anyone!" Lars said.

"Please, remember Garnet's instructions!" Fluorite cried.

Rhodonite froze in place and dropped her former superior from her grasp, and then she began to remember what Garnet taught her. "Relax my thoughts, relax my thoughts." She whispered to herself, easing her tense form. "My apologies, I just lost a little control there."

"A little would be selling yourself short." Rhodonite's would've-been victim snarked. "Especially after all the times I had to break you up."

"So, you must be Morganite." Steven remarked.

"Suppose you heard of me." Morganite stated. "My work is highly acclaimed throughout nine star systems. Now tell me, what brings you all to my tower, outside of nearly trying to kill me?"

"We need to talk." Steven said, moving out of the way to introduce the Off-Colors. "These are some of my friends, a group of Gems persecuted by the old ways of Homeworld because they didn't fit in with their fascist standards, including Rhodonite here. We came because we know you had rejuvenated the Ruby and Pearl that are her components seventeen times, and want answers as to why."

"You want to know why?" Morganite asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, I'd like to understand." Rhodonite answered.

"If you say so." Morganite responded. "Please, do sit down, all of you. Have I got a story for you?"

As the group all sat down on their knees, Morganite began her story. "Now, our little tale begins thousands of years ago, back in Era 1, a short while after Pink Diamond came along."

--

Thousands of years in the past, Morganite was quite possibly the most celebrated designer to have ever graced Gemkind for having helped build most of Homeworld's architecture. One of her most notable actions was being the leader in building each of the Diamonds' palanquins, and her methods were seen as extraordinary.

"Exemplary work Morganite." Yellow Diamond complimented the design of her palanquin, built to be just as massive as she was. "Very nice patterns, and the shade of yellow is very fitting too."

"I especially admire the drapes you put on mine." Blue Diamond admired her palanquin.

"It was my pleasure, my Diamonds." Morganite thanked with a courteous bow. "I don't ask for anything in return; your applause is all that matters."

"Oh, you are so modest." Blue giggled. "But don't you ever get a little lonely doing so much for our kind?"

"No, I feel perfectly happy by myself." Morganite answered.

"Not even any subordinates to bounce ideas off of?" Yellow continued. "Because I can assure you, I've already got some for you for the occasion."

With a snap of the Diamond's fingers, Yellow's brought forth a pair of inactive gemstones and set them on the ground. The Pearl rose up first, projecting a holographic clamshell around itself.

"Please identify yourself." The shell ordered robotically.

"Morganite." Morganite complied.

"Greetings, Morganite." The shell greeted. "Please state your preferred customization options."

"Nothing too fancy, but nothing too modest either." Morganite continued.

"Settings selected. Please stand by." The holographic shell opened and the Pearl began glowing, eventually forming into a full Gem. The Pearl looked very standard, but had straight pink hair in a bob, her gemstone resting on her chest, a leotard with a transparent shawl around her neck and pink flats.

Next came the Ruby, who also looked like how Gems of her type should be, with her gem on her stomach and a Pink Diamond insignia on her top.

"You must be our new owner, correct?" Morganite's new Pearl asked.

"Yes, yes I am." Morganite answered politely. "You were awarded to me for my work on Yellow and Blue Diamond's palanquins, and I expect you to be on your best behavior."

"Yes, Morganite." The Ruby and Pearl said in unison. What Morganite missed was her new Ruby turning her head a bit to gaze at Pearl, and it was love at first sight.

--

Over the next couple hundred years, Morganite's Pearl and Ruby served diligently and quietly, never once saying anything negative about their boss or her celebrity status. At least, not in public. In private, the two kept talking for hours about how self-absorbed she was, allowing their working relationship to blossom into romance.

"Oh, the nerve of her taking all the glory from all those hardworking Bismuths!" Morganite's Pearl laughed. "They may hold a higher rank than us Pearls, but I really feel sorry for them."

"And I heard from some Lapis Lazulis that ol' Morgy didn't appreciate the sloppy work they did on Hiei 16." The Ruby responded. "Chances are she's bound to tell Blue on them."

"And what of Pink Diamond?" the designer's Pearl continued. "Sometimes I wonder if she was just a Quartz plucked from a Kindergarten and ordered to look like a Diamond, because she rarely acts like the others at all. Her Pearl says she throws quite the destructive tantrums when she doesn't get what she wants."

"Oh, wow! What a baby!" the Ruby laughed loudly.

"Can I just say, I really love the way you laugh?" Morganite's Pearl said. "It's so loud, yet so endearing at the same time."

"I-I find you endearing too." The Ruby blushed. "No, wait, I don't think that's the word I'm looking for! I meant to say-"

"Cute, graceful, smart, caring, loyal?" the Pearl began flirting. "Because all but one of those fit you as well."

"Oh my, really?" the Ruby responded as she blushed even harder. "I don't anyone has ever called me anything that wasn't stupid or expendable, but you're the first."

"Thank you." The Pearl said, now beginning to blush herself. "Would you like a kiss?"

"W-w-w-w-wait, really?!" her new Ruby lover stuttered. "I don't think I've been given a kiss either?"

"Well, let's give it a try." The Pearl remarked, picking her beloved Ruby up by the waist and bringing them face to face before giving her a sweet kiss on the lips. When the Ruby returned the kiss in kind, their gems began to shimmer.

"Oh, girls! I want your two cents on my latest project." Morganite called for the pair as she walked in on their embrace. "What in the?!"

What Morganite saw was not her Ruby and Pearl, but rather a strange new lifeform with both of their gemstones on her front and bearing some parts of their respective physical forms.

"What happened?" Rhodonite muttered. "Did we just fuse?"

"Yes, you just did!" Morganite barked, catching Rhodonite by surprise. "You knew the laws you two; only two Gems of the same type are allowed to fuse! Did you not hear the cautionary tales of those six Gems that just up and vanished when they first discovered fusion?"

"I sincerely apologize, Morganite, but we really do love each other!" Rhodonite cried as she begged on her knees. "If you would just let us explain!"

"Explain nothing." Morganite coldly declared before pulling a Rejuvenator from her gem on her chest and using it to cut Rhodonite in two, causing her components to poof. "And that will be all."

Morganite believed that would be the end of it, the end of her subordinates' relationship. But she thought wrong.

--

When her Ruby and Pearl were regenerated, they at first acted like they first met Morganite all over again. And just like that first time, they once again fell in love.

Despite Morganite's attempts to suppress her subordinates' relationship, word got out of the two's love, and many Gems began to question the designer's high status and demanded something to be done about it.

The more times her Pearl and Ruby began fusing, the more Morganite used her Rejuvenator to reset them, and the more she began fearing for all the fame she accumulated being dropped faster than an unwanted colony. Eventually, after approximately seventeen resets, Morganite came to a decision.

"Are you sure we should still be doing this?" the Pearl asked her smaller lover one day. "You know our Morganite will be very unhappy."

"Well, I for one am sick of all this!" the Ruby exclaimed hotly. "Sick of being persecuted for our love, sick of fusions between different Gem types being so frowned upon, sick of this society we live in!"

"Oh, poor baby." The Pearl consoled the Ruby. "We're stronger than that, I just know it."

"Oh, girls, please come here." Morganite called for the pair. With nervous looks to one another, the couple walked over to their displeased master. "I have some splendid news for you."

"What is it?" Morganite's Pearl asked meekly.

"You no longer have to worry about being caught, because you're getting replaced!" Morganite answered cheerfully, presenting a new Pearl and Ruby that will soon take the old pair's places.

"Well, funny you should mention that." The Ruby stated, bravely stepping forward. "We're through with this! You don't understand the love Pearl and I share, just because you're so self-absorbed and dedicated to Homeworld's ways!"

"Oh, so good you're such a team player." Morganite sarcastically remarked before clapping her hands to summon a pair of Shattering Robonoids. "Because as they say, there's no trash in a team."

As the Robonoids prepared to detain Morganite's former Pearl and Ruby, the two made a break for it. They bolted out the top floor of Morganite's tower, jumping off the balcony and beginning to fall all the way down to Homeworld's lower levels.

"After them!" Morganite commanded the Robonoids, and they zoomed out the building after the fleeing Gems.

As Ruby and Pearl continued falling at high speeds, the Shattering Robonoids flew down in hot pursuit and tried to scan their gems for destruction.

"Oh no, we're gonna get shattered!" the Ruby began panicking. "This is all my fault, if I hadn't talked back to Morganite, then we wouldn't either be shattered by the Robonoids or by falling to our deaths! I'm so-"

"It's okay." The Pearl said softly, cupping her favorite soldier's cheek. "I'm here for you, you're here for me."

"Yeah." The Ruby began to relax. "We're here for each other."

The two began to kiss once again, fusing into Rhodonite once more as they crashed behind a statue on Homeworld's decaying surface. The Robonoids continued scanning for the pair, but the machines found nothing due to the structure keeping them protected.

As the Robonoids flew back up to report to Morganite, Rhodonite peeked from behind the statue in relief. "I'm here."

"Hello?" a deep, slow-moving voice called from a cave. "Is anyone there?"

"Who said that?!" Rhodonite began panicking. "Come out wherever you are!"

"You were cast out too, yes?" the voice continued. "Come on in, you'll be safer here."

"I-if you say so." Rhodonite muttered. "Where are you?"

"Just follow my voice." The voice answered. "You can find me in this cave. Just look for the rock."

Rhodonite did as this mystery person said and found a rather conspicuous rock within a cave, moving it aside to discover a secret passage. When she entered the path and went through the dark tunnel, at the end was a massive Kindergarten that might've gone unused for ages.

"Welcome, dearie." The voice said as its owner appeared from behind Rhodonite. Turning around, Rhodonite discovered a massive six-Gem fusion with a gentle smile on her face. "So, were you persecuted for your love too?"

"Wait, you're the six Gems!" Rhodonite exclaimed, thinking back to the tales of old.

"I see my reputation is still going strong." The larger fusion proclaimed. "I am Fluorite. And you are?"

Rhodonite glanced down at the gems on her torso, and then back at Fluorite, before she finally answered. "I'm Rhodonite."

--

"So that's what happened." Steven realized as Morganite concluded her tale before he turned to Rhodonite. "What do you think?"

"Relax my thoughts, relax my thoughts." Rhodonite whispered to herself as she sat cross-legged next to Steven and as she opened her eyes, she un-fused into Morganite's former Ruby and Pearl for the first time in centuries.

"Normally, this is the part where we'd yell at you for never atoning for ditching us." The Ruby stated. "And we'll still never forgive you for that."

"But that's in the past. We're different Gems than we were thousands of years ago." The Pearl replied. "Here in the future, we have a new life now. Together."

"I understand now." Morganite said solemnly. "If that is your decision, then so be it. Now good day."

"Thank you for having us." Lars thanked Morganite. "Now come on, gang, let's head home."

"One second." The Ruby and Pearl said in unison before they kissed yet again, fusing back into a more stable Rhodonite with shorter pant legs, a scarf replacing her shawl, and her hair now in two tones.

"Okay, now we can go." Rhodonite smiled.

"Everyone, wait!" Padparadscha exclaimed. "After a moment of clarity, Rhodonite will change her look! Isn't that exciting!?"

"You crack me up, little buddy." Lars chuckled as Steven, and the Off-Colors left the building.

After Morganite finished waving them off, she checked around to see if anyone was still watching. Rising from where Rhodonite sat her down, Morganite turned to the Rejuvenator hanging over her head and pressed on a hidden keypad on the wall that led the way to a Warp Pad.

"My clarity has got to hear about this." Morganite said to herself as she took the Warp Pad to parts unknown.

--

Revanche 666 was a planet drained of all life and resources by the Gems' colonizing, and all that was left was a world with a suspicious resemblance to a human skull.

Morganite disembarked from the Warp Pad and walked towards a black-colored building resembling a Communication Hub. Standing guard was a pair of Citrines, much like the one who had brought Steven to her, but they were less friendly.

"HALT!" the Citrines yelled as they blocked the way.

"It's alright you dolts; it's me." Morganite grumbled at the guards' ignorance.

"Oh, terribly sorry Morganite!" the Citrines declared, moving to allow Morganite to enter the building. "The master is expecting you!"

Morganite strolled down a long white hallway, lined with multiple guards. There were Pearls that had grey skin, black & white uniforms and their hair swept to one side of their heads, white Topazes, including one that was giving a cheery wave only to stop with a sinister glare from the pink Gem, Jaspers, Amethysts, Rubies and many more.

"Oh Morganite, fancy seeing you here." Holly Blue Agate said, as she appeared to start walking alongside her fellow ex-aristocrat. "How have things been going on your end?"

"That boy just paid a visit, and he brought some Off-Colors with." Morganite answered. "One of them was a fusion of my ex-servants, and even tried to toss me over the edge!"

"Really, an Off-Color attempting murder?" Holly Blue smirked. "Well, it's good you're still keeping up appearances like I am, no matter how complicated it may be. Hopefully the master's endgame will allow me to get some peace and quiet!"

"In due time, Holly." Morganite chuckled. "In due time."

The two Gems stopped walking in front of a pair of white doors that automatically opened for them. And at the end of the room before them was a Gem in a revolving chair examining all possible data she could find of the Crystal Gems on a series of holograms.

"We have arrived your clarity." Holly Blue announced while she and Morganite kneeled before the Gem. "Morganite would like to speak with you."

"Yes, Steven Universe has come to visit me earlier." Morganite added. "Which reminds me, is it time to proceed with Phase 1?"

The Gem stopped typing on her database and slowly turned to her subordinates, before slowly getting up from her chair.

--

And now we have another Gem to add to this mystery foe's alliance! And we'll finally get to see who she is next time on the final chapter of Part 1. But in the meantime, I have an announcement to make. Once I'm done with that chapter, I'm going to take a bit of a hiatus to focus on other stories and my schoolwork, but not too long like my fellow Steven Universe fans have joked about. I hope you understand, and see you next time.

[luninosity]

So I’ve started putting Magician (the sequel / spin-off to Sorceress - which was my first-ever pro published fantasy story, way back when! m/f, bisexual main characters, a single mom, a prince, a dragon!) up on AO3, mostly for motivation / wanting to get excited about it with people!

(And it’s technically fanfic, properly, now, isn’t it? For my own story? *laughs*)

Anyway, if you might like...a magician in need of redemption (he was the villain, or at least the problem, of the first story!), and an optimistic prince who likes books, and tropical fruit, and also (eventually) only one bed at the inn...chapters 1 & 2 are up now! More soon, I promise - I’ve got about 30k written already! And you don’t really need to’ve read the first short story first; I think it stands alone fairly well!

Read at AO3 here! Teaser below.

#

The world’s greatest living magician, lying on his back on a rocky ledge halfway up a cliff and bathed in sunshine, felt the boat’s arrival on the shore below like an uninvited knock at a private door. He did not enjoy it.

 He didn’t move for a moment. He did not feel like it, and there’d be no rush. Nobody’d get past his wards.

 He kept both eyes closed. Sun streaked red behind his eyelids; gold warmed his skin, his hair. His body soaked in the sensations of strong heated stone, sank into stone, became stone: learning how the rock felt when bathed in lush late-morning light. His edges blurred, softened: time slowed, thrummed, grew earthen and deep, salt-lapped and wind-etched. He might’ve been here for centuries, unhurried. Equilibrium and erosion, solidity and reshaping: a balance.

 He had needed balance. Something he’d thought he’d known, once. Something he no longer understood.

 He’d thought the island might help. Being rock for a while, or the wind, or the seaspray: being suspended amid them all. Being alone, because he was not sure he recalled how to be human, not well enough.

 The island was warm—Lorre had always shamelessly adored being warm—and far enough from the mainland that he’d been mostly undisturbed, and close enough to trade routes that he could occasionally walk on water out to a boat and barter some repairs or some healing for some news of the Middle Lands and King Henry’s court at Averene and the Grand Sorceress Liliana. Lorre had promised not to magically check in on Lily or their daughter; he was attempting to keep that promise.

 Equilibrium. Difficult. Sunlight was easier. Sunbeams were weightless. Stones did not have to think about human promises. Human perceptions.

 The knock came again. It was not physical, or not entirely. It was a presence, an unexpected intruder standing below, shuffling feet in the sand and no doubt wondering where precisely a magician could be found, being faced with a towering blank cliff and no visible habitation.

 Lorre sighed, pulled himself back from frayed edges and heavy sleepy light, and sat up, pulling a robe on in an unfussy tumble of blue and gold, mostly just because he liked the caress of silky fabric on bare skin. His senses shifted, dwindled: more human, though not entirely. He’d been a magician too long to not feel the threads of brilliance—cliff, vines, fish, grains of sand, sea-glass polished by waves—all around.

 He peeked over the side of the ledge. Behind him the cave yawned lazily, reminding him of sanctuary: he could simply walk back inside, the way he had for several years now, and ignore the new arrival. That generally worked.

 He was rather surprised someone’d found him at all. He wasn’t exactly hiding—oh yes you are, said a tart little voice in his head, one that sounded like Lily’s—but the island, after a bit of work on his part, nearly always concealed itself from maps and navigation charts. At the beginning a few enterprising adventurers had managed to track it down, young heroes on quests or proving their worth by daring an enchanter’s lair or begging for Lorre’s assistance in some revenge or inheritance or magical artifact retrieval scheme.

 He’d ignored all but two of them. The illusion-wall kept everyone out, simple and baffling; the island had fresh water but little in the way of food. Mostly the adventurers’d given up and gone home, years ago; he couldn’t in fact recall the face of the last one. Two had become nuisances, loud and shouting; one of those had actually threatened to drink poison, melodramatically demanding Lorre’s assistance in collecting a promised bride from a glass mountain, claiming he’d die without her.

 The young man currently standing on the beach was neither loud nor melodramatic. In fact, he was calmly considering the sheer cliff-face, which revealed nothing; he stepped back across the small curve of beach, shaded his eyes, seemed to be measuring. After a second he put a hand up, obviously checking the edge of the cliff: having noticed the very slight discrepancy where sea-birds dropped behind the illusion-wall a fraction sooner than they should vanish in reality.

 Intelligent, this one. Lorre dangled himself over the ledge at an angle which would’ve been dangerous for anyone else, and watched.

 The young man had dark reddish-brown hair, the color of autumn; he wore it tied back, though a few wisps were escaping. He’d dressed for travel, not in shiny armor the way some knights and princes had: sturdy boots and comfortable trousers, a shirt in nicely woven but also practical fabric, a well-worn pack which he’d swung down to the sand. He wasn’t particularly tall, but not short: average, with nicely shaped shoulders and an air of straightforward competence, not trying for impressive or intimidating.

 Lorre, despite annoyance about the interruption, couldn’t help but approve. At least this one had some sense, and didn’t walk around clanking in metal under the shimmering sun.

 The young man called up, “Hello?” His voice was quite nice as well, not demanding, lightly accented with the burr of the Mountain Marches but in the way of someone who’d been carefully sent to the best schools down South. “Grand Sorcerer?”

 Lorre mentally snorted. He didn’t have a proper title, not any longer; if anyone did, it’d be Lily. His former lover, now wife of the brother of the King of Averene, was by default the last Grand Sorceress of the Middle Lands; she’d started up the old magician’s school again, welcoming and training apprentices. Lily always had been better with people. Lorre was not precisely welcome in Averene.

 The young man said mildly, “I expect this is a test; I thought you would do that, you know,” as if he thought that Lorre might answer, as if they were having a conversation; and looked around. “I’m meant to find you, is that it?”

 That was the opposite of it. Lorre on a good day barely recalled how to be human, and certainly wasn’t fit to interact with them. He’d lost his temper with the melodramatic poison-carrying prince, strolled invisibly onto the shore, asked the poison to turn itself into a sleeping draught, and then poured it into the idiot’s water flask. Then he’d found a passing ship and dumped the snoring body onto its deck. He hadn’t known the destination, and hadn’t bothered to find out.

 His current young man was looking at driftwood. Lorre wondered why. He was getting a bit dizzy from leaning nearly upside down; he considered the sensation with some surprise. A swoop of gold swung into his eyes, distracting and momentarily baffling; he pushed the strands of his hair back with magic.

 The young man found a stick, one that evidently met his standards for length and strength. He kept it in front of himself; he walked deliberately toward the cliff, and the illusion.

 Oh. Clever. Avoiding traps. Testing a theory. Lorre found himself impressed, particularly when the young man watched the tip of the driftwood vanish and nodded to himself and then set rocks down to neatly mark the spot.

 The island was not large, and the beach even smaller: a jut of cliff, a tangle of vines, a small lagoon and a trickle of water down to the shore. The illusion hid the cave-opening, but there wasn’t really anywhere else for someone to be; the young man figured that out within an hour or so of methodical exploration, and returned to the shore, and looked thoughtfully at the cliffs. He’d rolled up his sleeves and undone the ties of his shirt, given the heat; he had a vine-leaf in his hair, along with a hint of sweat.

 Lorre, in some ways still very much human, couldn’t not stare. Something about those forearms under the rolled-up sleeves. That hint of well-muscled chest. The casual ripple of motion, broad shoulders, heroic thighs.

 “I suppose,” the young man said, very wry, still looking at the cliff as if perfectly aware Lorre was watching, “I should introduce myself. I think I forgot to, earlier.”

 I suppose you should, Lorre agreed silently. Since you’re here. Disrupting my life.

 He ignored the fact that he’d had no real plans. Meditation. Quiet. A hope for calm.

  A hint of dragon-fire slid through his veins, under his skin. A memory. Restless. Beckoning. Dangerous.

[victoria-daydreams]

Till Kingdom Come

Chapter Nine: Home on the Range

AN: I’m back! I had trouble writing certain parts of this chapter and at one point I gave up and started writing for the next two chapters. But finally this chapter is done. I also published a playlist for this story that had been sitting in my drafts. Listening to some of the songs I selected as you read through the chapters is just *chef’s kiss*. After this chapter I’m probably going to take break from the story since writing this particular chapter was so draining for some reason. But hopefully when I return I will be feeling rejuvenated and ready to write again.

Happy Holidays!!!

Word Count: 5.1k

Trigger Warnings: violence, racial slurs/dated language

Taglist: @nerds4life246​

Chapter Ten: The Black Belle of the West

Sabine was fond of saloons just as much as anyone else, but tonight she visiting the establishment strictly for business. The bounty of Percy "The Fiend" Doyle had been issued by Sheriff Horace Lane, a man who usually offered the bounties that Sabine and the rest of the immortals took up. Working with him was quite the eye opening experience for Sabine. The sheriff was in the minority of accepting women and colored folks as a bounty hunters in a usually white, male-dominated occupation. It gave Sabine some comfort to know that there were some men who didn't let ego, bigotry, or ideas of femininity completely cloud their judgement.

Sabine swirled her bourbon around in its short glass as her eyes scanned over the saloon. The billiard room was so thick with smoke from cigarettes and cigars that it nearly burned her lungs, and the strains of piano music could be heard far off amidst laughter and chatter in the saloon. Laughter that came from rowdy men and pleasurable squeals from the working women lounging in the arms of their potential clients. Throwing back her shot, Sabine placed her glass down and began her prowl for the wanted man.

It was easier said than done.

There were so many people in the saloon that Sabine was having a hard time finding the outlaw. She moved from person to person, to table to table, until she found a familiar looking face. The unshaven beard, the wild, black hair, and the liver-spotted face. She took out the poster that she had been given, and compared the face on it with the man that she was looking at. No doubt, it was a match.

She stuffed the handbill into her chest and pulled the sleeves on her dress down to her shoulders. And with a vivacious smile, she strutted over to the table where The Fiend was playing poker with several other men.

"Anyone one you fellas named Doyle?" Sabine asked, placing her hands on hips.

"Who wants to know?" The Fiend questioned defensively.

Sabine shrugged, "You see, I'm new here and Charlie told me that you're a regular," she explained, playing the stereotypical vapid floozy. "And you always likes to see the new ones," she said, twirling a strand of her hair.

The Fiend looked Sabine over and smirked, "Never laid with a negress before, but I guess you'll do," he remarked, eliciting a few chuckles from the men around him.

The Fiend picked up his glass and downed his whiskey in one swift motion and excused himself with a wolfish smile, showing off his disgusting teeth. Sticking her hand out, Sabine sent the man an alluring smile and the man readily took it and she began to guide him up the wide staircase, The Fiend swatting her behind as they went. She tried not to tense nor flinch when she felt his hand, his action briefly transporting her back to her time on the Martin Plantation, but keeping her cool Sabine maintained her composure. The two of them made their way down a dimly lit hallway, where prostitutes lingered in their doors, smiling flirtatiously at him.

"Gimme a holler if you want a second inning, mister," one girl called, and winked at him, while another blew him a kiss.

They reach the end of the hall to "Sabine's" room and she opened the door, ushering him into it and closed the door behind her. Sabine smiled coquettishly at him as he began to undress, unbuttoning his shirt.

"What's your name?" he asked, pulling the shirt from his body.

"Lisa,"

"Well Lisa, I hope that you don't mind licking," he commented, his tongue darting out from his lower lip.

Sabine felt bile rise in her throat at the gesture, the very thought of his tongue making contact with any part of her made her want to gag. It was repulsive.

Sabine began tugging at her own clothes, "I don't pay no mind to that," she lied smoothly, allowing her dress to fall to the floor.

"Good girl," he cooed, eyeing her from head to toe. "You know, you're a lot prettier than the last one. Hardly had any teeth, and no tits," he described, shaking his head in distaste. "She was a flat thing, and I never liked flat. I wouldn't have mind all that, if she hadn't been such a bad fucker," he remarked, before letting out a sigh and plopping down on the bed. "I enjoyed seeing that bullet go between those blue eyes," he mentioned casually, tugging his boots off.

Sabine feigned shock, "You mean you killed her?" she asked, her voice slightly high pitched, placing her hand on her chest.

"Sure did!" he boasted, a large grin on his face. "She won't the only one too. Five other whores have been met similar fates all across this state," he informed. "I don't like to kill women folk, but if they disappoint old Fiend here, well I don't have a choice then," he went on. "Men are a whole lot easier to kill, they don't usually scream. When I robbed a bank in the Dakotas, I shot this lady and she screamed like a harpy. A shame that I wasn't able to strangle her instead," he finished, shaking his head and laughing lightly.

"It sounds like you've done a lot of killing," Sabine commented, feeling her disgust rise higher and higher at the sorry excuse of man in front of her.

"Oh darlin', it's what I do. I know it's probably not smart to talk to you about this, but if the noose ain't around my neck by now, then I don't think it'll ever be," he gloated, shrugging his shoulders.

She turned to The Fiend and smiled, "You sound like a very smart man," she complimented, watching him unzip his pants.

"What I am is horny," he corrected, staring at her hungrily. "Now come over here and let me get a better look at you," he ordered, beckoning her over.

Sabine walked over to The Fiend and he laid back on the bed, tucking his arms underneath his head. She planted her foot on the bed and slowly began to draw her chemise up.

"I'm sure many people are wanting your head, mister," Sabine mused, biting her lip.

The Fiend shrugged again, "I've got a bounty. About 7,500 dollars. Bunch of bullshit if you ask me, I'm worth a lot more," he proclaimed, puffing his chest out a bit.

"You know, I'd have to disagree,"

Sabine pulled her skirt up to her thigh, revealing her revolver in its holster. Before The Fiend could even react, she whipped out her gun and shot him dead center in the forehead.

"7,500 is far too much for you, bastard,"

High pitched screams and confused shouts rung out from behind her door and below her as she heard of flurry of movement downstairs. Blowing the barrel of her gun off, she slid the revolver back into its holster. Sabine picked up her clothes and redressed herself, mentally reciting the words she was about to say to the more than likely frenzied crowd that was going to be at her door in any moment.

"Everybody calm down, I mean no one else any harm," she would begin. "I am Corinna Vance, a legal representative of the Criminal Justice System of the United States of America. And this man here was a wanted man," she would explain, unfolding the warrant that matched Percy 'The Fiend' Doyle's description.

~~~x~~~

The sound of cheers, clapping, and the thumping of feet against wood reverberated in the air alongside the instruments being played. Strumming and singing to the rhythm of the tune, Sabine felt herself smile at the small audience who were clearly enjoying her performance. She didn't plan on doing this, not in the slightest, Sabine thought maybe around this time of the day she would be having a cup of coffee after finally getting up from bed from the long night she had. She had been tracking down another bounty given to her, this time she didn't even go under a pretense, she just sniped him from afar.

A well deserved rest was in store for her, she could taste it on her tongue.

But then, as soon as she rode into Hickory, Sabine was surrounded by children begging her to play on the banjo. And as much as she wanted to say 'no', Sabine could see the way their eyes lit up at the mere prospect of her performing.

And so she played.

So now that I am old and gray Listen close to what I say The white folks, they will write the show If you can't read, you'll never know

Sabine watched as the children swung each other around to the sound of the fiddle player, his bow striking across the strings as he rolled out the notes. She stared off to her side as she plucked the strings of the banjo with her skilled fingers. Bastien was sitting on their porch drinking from his flask, a smile was stretched upon his face at the cheerful kids in front of him.

Weeks had passed since the incident in Bastien's bedroom, and like with the 'river incident' the two of them mutually agreed in silence that nothing happened. Because technically, it was true. Yes, she and Bastien had a...heated moment that came close to a kiss, but did they do it? No. But of course that didn't stop Josef and Nicky from teasing her, because they knew something had gone down behind the Frenchmen's door.

Better git yer learnin' Better git yer learnin' Better git yer learnin' Before it goes away

Sabine and the fiddler drew the song to a finish, playing the same notes with much enthusiasm and joy. The last note rang out in the air and everyone from the children to the adults lounging around to hear Sabine play erupted in applause.

She did a little bow, "Thank you, thank you," she said, smiling herself. "Like the song I was just singing," she began, gazing at the young children in front of her. "You all need to get your learnin', so back to the schoolhouse," she ordered gently, and all the children simultaneously groaned. Sabine shook her head and wagged her finger. "I will be hearing none of it. Go on, off with you. Playtime is over," she informed, shooing them away with her hand.

Sabine pushed herself up from her seat on the porch step and turned around to see Bastien looking at her already.

"Quite a dark song to sing to children," he stated, with a chuckle. "'Ol' Massah found out, sure enough. And poor old Nick, he got strung up,'" he recited, putting the cap of his flask back on and tightening it.

Sabine walked closer to him, "It is true though," she responded, holding her banjo by the neck. "The penalty was death if a slave was caught trying to educate themselves," she continued, look down the road where the small schoolhouse was. "I'm glad they don't have to suffer or be beaten for wanting to learn," she added.

"I am too,"

She her turned attention back to him, "Why are you drinking so early?" she asked curiously. "It's only eleven," she pointed out.

"Well, in France I believe it's five o'clock," he retorted, slightly grinning.

Sabine snatched the flask from his grip, "That's not an excuse," she said letting out a laugh and running away from him into the house.

As soon as she crossed the threshold of the front door, Sabine felt a hand wrap around her waist and spin her around. Giggles bubbled from her throat as her surroundings whirled around.

"You two having fun?"

Andy's voice shattered Sabine and Bastien from being in their own little world and he quickly placed her on feet, grabbing his flask back with little resistance.

"Morning Andy," Sabine greeted awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck and making her way to the den area.

"Your hunting go well?" she questioned, glancing back down at her newspaper.

"Plentiful," Sabine answered, laying the instrument against the wall. She shrugged her knapsack off her shoulder before reaching into the bag and pulled out a wad of cash. "It's all here. All $7,500 of it," she beamed, walking back over to Andy and handing her the cash.

Sabine remembered bringing the body of the outlaw to the sheriff and him giving her reward. He promised that all the money was there, but she counted the money nonetheless. It was better to be safe than sorry in her opinion.

Andy smiled and nodded, "Nice job," she complimented. "I'd figured you would want to wash up, so I heated some water up for you," Andy explained. "Booker, if you would be so kind to take that pitcher to the washroom," she requested.

"Sure boss," he answered, and walked over to the stove, wrapping the pitcher's handle with a towel.

Sabine watched as his figure disappear down the short hall where the washroom was located, but stopped when she felt like there were eyes on her.

She glanced over to the oldest immortal who had her brow arched, "What?" she asked, removing her hat from her head.

"I've been hearing...rumblings," Andy began, her voice low as she folded the newspaper up.

"Rumblings about what?"

"That something transpired between you and Book while I was away," Andy answered.

Sabine scoffed slightly, "Josef and Nicky said something didn't they?" she questioned, taking off jacket. "What did the two gossipers say?" she asked again, turning around to go hang her things up.

"Nothing compromising if that's what you're worried about," she reassured. "Matter of fact, I'm not completely sure what is going on," she admitted, the chair creaking underneath her as she stood up. "I have an inkling due to Joe's teasing mood as of late,"

Sabine shrugged casually, trying to brush off Andy's suspicions.

She turned around, "It's Josef, when isn't he teasing one of us," she said, with a chuckle.

Andy approached her, "Booker is fond of you," she said bluntly, just loud enough for only her to hear.

Sabine's mouth opened and closed like a fish, trying to form words, "W-Well, I hope he would be, we've only known each other for a decade-"

"That's not what I mean and you know it,"

"Is everything alright?"

Sabine stared past Andy's shoulder and saw Bastien looking at the two of them with a slight frown.

"Yes," Sabine answered, flashing him a smile. "Just us two gals talking," she explained, moving past Andy. "Thanks again for the bathwater," she added, looking over her shoulder at the oldest immortal.

Andy let out a chuckle in disbelief, "Sure, no problem Sabine," she replied, shaking her head.

Sabine went down the hall and pushed the door closed, seeing her clothes that she forgot she left in there folded neatly. Sighing gratefully, she stripped herself from the clothes she was wearing and put them aside before she rinsed her hair. Next, she soaped her face and hands, humming to herself as went. She carefully rinsed her face before taking a wash rag to the rest of her. Finally, Sabine bathed her body and shivers ran down her spine from the chill in the house. She quickly dried herself as best she could and dressed herself in her clothes from the day before.

Dirty clothes in hand, Sabine left the small washroom and out to the main area where Andy, Nicky, and Josef were all seated at the table while Bastien was

Josef's eyes lit up at the sight of her, "My good friends, I think we have a genteel lady in our presence again," he commented, staring at her outfit.

Sabine rolled her eyes and did a little twirl, her skirt dancing at her ankles, "Yes, it is I, Lady Sabine," she announced, straightening her posture and lifting her hand in the air.

Doing a quick bow Sabine left the den, walking towards her bedroom to place her things down and return back to the main area of the home.

"You know that Juneteenth is approaching soon?" Sabine asked, tucking the sides of her blouse into her skirt a little more. "Last year we missed out on the festivities, too busy chasing down outlaws," she remarked, going to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"Ah yes! I can hardly wait!" Josef cheered. "Good food, good drink, music, and dancing. Who could ask for more?" he added, leaning back in chair with his arms behind his head.

"We could all use a bit of fun," Nicky chimed in, as Sabine looked up from her cup.

"But not too much fun," Andy suggested cautiously. “I am not trying to play nanny to any of you,” she joked, a smile reaching her lips.

Sabine went to join the group, "Oh come on Andy," she complained, pulling her damp hair over her shoulder.  She walked past Bastien, lightly letting her finger trail across his shoulder, his body stiffening in response. "Bastien is our resident functioning alcoholic," she quipped, taking a seat next to him. "I think we'll be just fine," she added.

~~~x~~~

A light breeze swept through Hickory as Sabine did her afternoon chores outside.

She looked over the clothesline to see children sitting around Hans listening to him tell stories from his homeland. They were interesting tales that had the kids attention completely eaten up. Just the way he told them made them all the more captivating. His hand gestures, the voices he would give the characters, even the facial expressions he put into it. It made her wondered why he didn't teach at a fancy school somewhere instead of...being here.

Sabine pinned another shirt onto the line and lifted her eyes from her work again, just in time to meet Hans' gaze. He sent her a quick wink as he continued his storytelling, she chuckled to herself and shook her head as she bent down to pick up another article of clothing. The sound of a bell being vigorously rung echoed in the air followed by the loud chatter of children passing by her home.

Back to the schoolhouse they go.

Attaching her chemise to the line with clothespins, Sabine could see from the corner of her eye Hans' form strolling over to her.

"Afternoon Miss Vance," he greeted, from the other side of the clothesline.

"Afternoon," she echoed, wiping her hands dry on her dress.

"Hard at work I see," he joked, motioning to the drying laundry.

Sabine chuckled slightly, "Trust me, I've done harder," she replied, knowing the statement would go right over his head.

Hans didn't know that she was a slave, he didn't ask, so she didn't tell. Sabine always wondered if he didn't ask out of dignity or out of pity.

"Then let me grant you a reprieve," he said, sticking his arm out. Sabine glanced over to the clothesline and Hans chuckled. "I make better company than the laundry, I promise," he assured, a twinkle in his eye.

"I guess you have a point," Sabine agreed, her lips quirking up into a smile as she walked over to him.

"How about a ride to the nearby meadow?" Hans suggested, glancing over at her.

"That sounds lovely Hans," she agreed, before walking over to her horse.

Freedom was a beautiful horse, Sabine knew so. The animal was well built, a white stripe ran down nose, her coat a light brown that seemed to drop into a darker brown around her under belly and legs. Yes, Sabine adored the horse, it was her companion on her many bounty hunting trips. She stroked Freedom gently and in return the horse nuzzled her shoulder.

"Good girl," she cooed, giving the horse a pat and mounting it.

Sabine maneuvered her horse, guiding it to the front of her home where Hans waited on top of his own steed.

"Race you there," Sabine said, squeezing her legs on the horse's sides.

Freedom's light trot turned into a sprint as she took off, Sabine felt her plait bounce on her back as she sped off, looking back at the German with a wide unmistakable smile on her lips. Hans flashed his soft gray eyes at her, smiling back as he tugged on his reigns to catch up with her and ride at Sabine's side. Leaning her body back a little, let out a whoop as she felt the wind rush past her.

Soon, the two of them found themselves at a wide meadow full of flowers and tall, green grass.

Slowing her horse down, Sabine gazed at the scenery with a small grin and dismounted Freedom. Hans followed behind her, hopping off his saddle and dusted off a sprinkling of dirt on his horse's rear. Sabine lowered herself onto the ground and laid on her back, not caring if grass got in her hair. Without taking her eyes off the clouds in the sky, Sabine could hear Hans plop himself down next to her.

"Not that I'm not grateful," Sabine began, staring at a cloud that reminded her of a feather. "But why did you bring me out here?" she asked, lazily turning her head in his direction. "The porch is a very comfortable place to sit as you know," she joked.

"Too many prying eyes," Hans answered, staring down at her.

"What? My friends?" she questioned, with a chuckle. "They're harmless," she assured, giving a dismissive wave.

"You sure about that?" he asked back, letting out a laugh of his own. "What's his name, Samuel? I don't think he's that much fond of me," he commented, taking his hat off.

"Oh, Samuel is like that with everyone," Sabine replied, knowing that was lie.

"Miss Vance, I think you're lying to me," he stated, tearing some grass from the ground.

Sabine snickered, "Was it that obvious?" she wondered, resting her hands on her stomach.

"Just a little," he replied, pinching his fingers closely together.

"Samuel is...Samuel is something else," Sabine explained lamely. "He can be a bit cold towards people he doesn't know. I wouldn't take it personally," she instructed.

Hans hummed, "I'll take your word for it," he responded, stroking his beard, clearly not sold on the idea.

Sabine laughed lightly, "Anyways, did you have fun telling your stories today?" she asked, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

"It was wunderbar!" Hans answered, with a grin. "The children seemed to be hooked onto my every last word I said," he recalled proudly.

"I don't doubt it," Sabine agreed. "It makes me wonder why you're not a teacher in some big, fancy school in New York," she commented, looking at him in curiosity.

"I use to tutor children from the upper class for many years and life soon became monotonous for me," he explained, staring out into the meadow. "I kept hearing people say that 'The West' is full of opportunities and new experiences and I couldn't help myself," he went on, shrugging a little. "I know I'm a bit old, but I couldn't shake that sense of adventure off me," he finished, turning towards her with a grin.

"I think you're never too old to have a sense of adventure," Sabine disagreed. "You only get one life, why not live it?" she questioned, managing to keep a straight face as the hypocritical statement slipped past her lips.

"And what about you?" Hans inquired, lightly tapping her thigh. "The children have told me that you are quite the singer," he informed. "Your voice could take you places," he suggested.

Sabine scoffed, "Where would I sing?" she challenged. "In a fucking minstrelsy show to humiliate myself?" she asked, shaking her head.

"Goodness no," he disagreed vehemently. "And I wouldn't want you to subject yourself to that," he added. "I just thought with your singing-"

"There isn't a stage in America that would let my colored ass perform," she cut in. "Look Hans, you may not know this, but being a female bounty hunter sometimes isn't really the most grateful job. Whether it's because you don't have a cock or your skin is not the color of milk. But at the end of the day, I still enjoy what I do. It helps me provide for myself and my friends, takes me to new places, and meet new people along the way," Sabine continued, running her hand through the grass. "Plus, I get paid to kill white folks," she added, a smirk on her face.

"An added bonus I'm sure," Hans responded, with a chuckle. He began to play with his hands before looking at Sabine again. "May I hear you sing?" he requested, with a hopeful look on his face.

"What?" Sabine asked, raising her brow. "Come on," she complained, throwing her head back.

"I haven't had the pleasure of hearing you sing," Hans pointed out.

Sabine exhaled dramatically, "Okay, fine, fine," she conceded, pushing herself up completely.

One evening as I rambled among the springing thyme I overheard a young woman conversing with Reynardine.

Her hair was black, and her eyes were blue, her lips as red as wine. And he smiled as he gazed upon her, did that sly bold Reynardine.

"That's it, I'm not singing any further," Sabine stated, lifting her hands in the air. "If I sing anymore this week, I'm gonna have to start charging people," she quipped.

"But my appetite has not been sated yet," Hans pouted humorously.

Sabine grinned, "Too bad," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders.

"Where did you learn that song from?" he asked curiously.

"Some English fellow that I met this past winter," she replied, a faint smile on her face. "He was a...very pleasant man to be with," she commented, thinking of fond memories about Oliver.

"You meet the darnedest of people out here, don't you?"

"It's like I said, perks of the job," Sabine reminded.

A silence fell between them as another breeze swept through meadow, blowing strands of hair across Sabine's face. She turned her head and stared at Hans with intent. Something was off about him today, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Was there another reason you brought me out here?" Sabine asked, staring at him.

The smile on his face lessened at her question, "Actually yes," he replied, tossing some blades of grass back onto the ground. "I received a telegram from Texas. A friend of mine is having trouble. You've heard of Theo Beck, I take it?" he asked, returning her gaze.

Sabine shrugged again, "A little. Sheriff Lane told me that he killed his family and then robbed a bank?" she answered, wondering where this was going.

"That'd be him. He was suppose to hang last week, but he escaped from his cell the day before his execution. Now, my friend is a federal marshal and he's the one that set the bounty. Dead or alive. Everyone's been searching, and his last sighting was in Oklahoma..." he trailed off.

Sabine's mind quickly put two and two together about this conversation.

"You're leaving?" she remarked, both of her eyebrows raised.

"I'm afraid I am my dear," Hans confirmed, nodding his head.

"I feel like you just got here and now you have to leave," Sabine grumbled, crossing her arms.

"I have to Corinna, I might never see an opportunity with the size of this reward like this again," he explained, raking his hand through his hair. "You are the one who told me that we only get one life," he reminded, slightly grinning.

"Yes, but I didn't think your next adventure would be this soon," she retorted, throwing her hands slightly. "Who's going to teach me German now?" she questioned, shaking her head a bit.

"I'll think you'll do just fine without me schatzi," Hans assured.

~~~x~~~

Sabine and Hans walked alongside their horse as they approached Hickory, deciding to give their horses a rest.

"Before I leave here, I want to give you something," Hans stated, before digging inside his coat pocket. He pulled out the German language lesson book that he had been going over with her. "Something for you to remember me by," he added, extending the book towards her.

Slowly, she pulled the book from his grasp, "Hans, are you sure about this?" she questioned. "We may never see each other again, I'll have no way of returning this to you," she pointed out.

"It's a gift remember?" Hans replied, a small smile on his face. "And when we do meet again, I expect us to have full fledged conversation in German, recalling all our wonderful exploits," he corrected, with an affirmative nod.

Sabine laughed, "I look forward to it," she concurred, clutching the book against her chest.

Hans stepped forward, gently taking her by the arms, "Before I depart I would like to also give you a proper goodbye,"

She arched an eyebrow, "'A proper goodbye'?" she repeated, wondering what he meant as he pulled her into his embrace.

"Yes, something that I've been wanting to do for a while," he continued, as he slid his hands around her waist.

Lowering his head ever so slightly, Hans planted his lips on her mouth. Sabine gladly allowed herself to lean into him, exhaling gently as she reciprocated the kiss. For that instant, they were totally unaware of everything and everyone around them. Hans' grip on her waist tightened, deepening their embrace. From the corner of her eye, Sabine saw a figure emerge from the front door of her home. Abruptly, she pulled away from Hans when she recognized who it was. Bastien. Clumsily, the book slipped from her hands, dropping it onto ground with an echoing thud.

Embarrassment was written all over her face.

"Samuel! I-I-didn't you see there," Sabine said sheepishly, her hands folding into one and other in a nervous, awkward motion.

"I can see that," Bastien responded, with harsh plainness.

Sabine glanced over to Hans, expecting to see the same wide-eyed expression as her, but instead Hans looked smug. Completely unfazed that Bastien had caught them in such a position. Sabine started to believe that's what made Bastien angrier as his nostrils flared and a vein on his forehead protruded out in anger.

Hans faced Sabine again, "Auf wiedersehen," he said, before kissing the top of her head.

The German climbed onto his horse and spurred it forward with his heels, sauntering past the town's wooden placard. As he left, Sabine could hear him humming a little tune to himself and she instantly recognized it.

It was the song Reynardine.

Chapter Eleven: Green-eyed

[missdreamsalot]

The Queen’s Guard- Ch.1

A/N: Hello, everyone! This is my first attempt at a Fanfic and I’m both nervous and excited about finally posting the very first chapter. I’m still quite new to this platform and haven’t been quite active up until now but I love Choices and want to be a little more lively here. Thank you, and I hope you guys like this!

Book: The Royal Romance

Main Pairings: Leo x OC, Liam x OC.

Future Pairings: Maxwell x OC, Bastien x OC, Drake x Olivia

Summary: A rotten apple in the family threatens their lives and there is only one way to get rid of bad blood.

Masterlist 

Warnings: Violence, Language, Sexual Content, Angst, Dark Situations, Character Death

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of The Royal Romance, or Rules of Engagement; they belong to Pixelberry. I only own my OC’s.

Enjoy~ *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

CH 1: Ghosts

In the Ramsford Estate, Elle sat quietly at the vanity of the room she occupied for the past summer. She stared blankly at her reflection in the mirror. Her long, brown hair had dulled, olive skin had paled, and the light of her green eyes had been extinguished.

A month had passed since the day of the Coronation, 30 days since the man she loved broke her heart, and the 720 hours of self-loathing had crippled her at last.

A broken cry escaped her lips as she hugged herself tight. How could she had been so foolish to think that it could work? He had his place and she had hers – a place that she hid from everyone in order to protect them, to protect him.

She knew she couldn’t stay much longer, no matter how much she wanted to fight for him, it simply wouldn’t be possible. Her enemies would only continue to draw them apart. The pictures that were published was only the tip of the iceberg and from there it would only spiral into darker depths, unleashing more suffering and heartbreak.

‘It’s over’, she thought.

Out on the patio that same evening, the night air danced through Elle’s hair as she stared up at the sky. She returned her eyes to Maxwell’s face that had dropped into sadness upon her declaration of leaving and returning home.

“I want to fight with you on this” the younger Beaumont brother started, “and I want to say to give it a little more time, that things will get better, but-“ he sighed, rubbing his face in frustration, “I don’t know when or if it will. I blame myself for putting you in this position, and I’m sorry-“

“Maxwell,” Elle placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. None of us could’ve predicted this. It’s out of our control.” It truly was. The capacity of which they can change things was out of their hands.

Suddenly the world swayed, she grabbed the front of her dress as her stomach churned and she groaned miserably.

Maxwell perked up in alarm as the color drained from her face. “What’s wrong?”

Elle waited until it passed while contemplating if she should express the truth to Maxwell-A truth that even herself could not come to terms with.

She shook her head, “Nothing, I just-”

“Forgot to take your iron?” Maxwell finished.

Her eyes met his and she smiled faintly. “Yes,” was all she could muster. A few moments later he returned with a glass of orange juice and an iron pill.

“Don’t tell me you forgot you were anemic?” Maxwell stated lightheartedly as he handed her the supplement first. “You need to take better care of yourself!”

“I do,” she spoke softly. After gulping down the last drop of juice, she gave the glass back to him and again her eyes found their way back to the starry sky. For an instant, she found herself drifting away and, instead of the stars, there were two of the brightest eyes looking down at her- tender, iridescent, and blue…” but I can’t do that here.” She continued, “Thank you for being there for me, Maxwell. You’re such a great friend. Honorable at that...”

“You make it sound like I��m never gonna see you again,” Maxwell pouted. She blinked away the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

“I-AH!”

He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tightly against him. “Don’t worry! If you ever need anything, I’ll always be here for you!”

“Okay, okay!” she exclaimed, patting his shoulder soothingly. “I’ll keep that in mind…”

Before they knew it, Elle was walking the tarmac to the plane that would whisk her way. She looked back, giving one last wave to the Beaumont brothers, Maxwell waving enthusiastically, while Bertrand stared as intensely as ever, giving her a final nod of acknowledgement.

As she took her seat, the tears finally spilled and her eyes never burned so painfully.  

The jet began its departure, rising into the brilliance of the clear, blue sky and leaving behind a man who could only dream to be with the woman he loved.

6 Months Later /// Present Day: Cordonia ///

Liam sat at his desk hunched over a flood of papers. He was in the middle of finalizing a public statement when there was a knock at his door. “You may enter.” He called out; his attention glued to the paper in front of him. With a dramatic swirl, he signed the parchment in satisfaction.

“Hello, baby brother.”

Liam looked up with a smile that didn’t quite reach his once lively blue eyes. “Leo.” He stood up and they shared a hug before parting. “How are you doing?” He began rustling through the documents, piling them haphazardly until they were neat enough that he placed his main piece front and center; ready to go.

“Well, if you checked your phone every now and then you would know.” Leo teased, wandering over to the drink cart.

“Sorry, it’s been a bit hectic lately,” Liam grabbed his coat draped over the back of his chair and dug into the inside pocket. As he pulled his phone out, his keys fell out and hit the floor. He bent down to pick them up and gazed over them for a moment, his eyes settling on a particular keychain. He ran his thumb over the miniature statue of liberty before placing the keys back.

His older brother chuckled, “I was only messing with you. No need to apologize.”

Liam turned to face his brother who was already holding out a glass of bourbon for him. “Thanks.”

“My life is viewed as a bit of a train wreck but,” Leo shrugged with a gulp of his drink, “it’s a wanted one.”

“Always the devil may care attitude huh, Leo?”

“You’re surprised?”

Liam shook his head as his lips quirked up in a grin while he scrolled indifferently through his phone.  

Leo peered at him over the rim of his glass, taking note of how exhausted he looked. His once-tamed blonde hair was disheveled due to the many times of running his hands through it, and he was hunched forward with an unseen weight on his shoulders.

“Li?”

“Hm?” Liam met his brother’s gaze, his phone closing with a click.

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

Liam chuckled, but it was an empty one. “What brought this on?”

“You look like shit for one.”

Liam opened his mouth to retort, but what escaped was only a breath of air. He gazed somberly at the dancing flames in the fireplace. The door to the study opened then and Queen Mother Regina walked in. She smiled softly upon seeing her stepsons.

“Well, I’m glad to see us all here.” She took the couch in between them, setting a thin folder down on the low table. “What was it you wanted to discuss, Liam?”

“Hello to you too, Regina. I’m okay thanks for asking.” Leo interjected nonchalantly.

“I thought you would appreciate me getting straight to the point. I’m sure your itching to get out of here.” Regina stated. “You look well though. I see the divorce holds no ill will for you among other things.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Still giving me shit for that? Of course, you are.”

“I warnedyou about her and looked what happened.”

Liam shifted uncomfortably.

“Right, I’m sure you predicted that she would cheat on me with the bartender. I appreciate you looking out for me.” Leo uttered with contempt.

“I’m leaving.” He blurted out. Both parties turned to Liam at his announcement.

Regina was first to respond, her eyes glimmering with concern. “What do you mean by ‘leaving’?”

“On a break of sorts.”

The Queen Mother relaxed internally. For a moment she thought he was abdicating the throne and that would not have boded well for the kingdom. “First and foremost, Liam...” she started. “Have you spoken to Madeleine about this?”

“No. I wanted to disclose it with you two first.”

“She’s your wife. I think she holds precedence.”

Liam exhaled sharply. “Regardless, I plan on leaving in two days. I’ve already scheduled a press conference for tomorrow morning.

Regina remained silent for a moment, considering his words. “I suppose I should’ve seen this coming. You’ve been opting out of important social events and avoiding the press. Your absence has already become noticed by the people. However, do you know how this is going to look? The people will question ‘why all of a sudden’. So, why now, Liam?”

Liam stared at the now empty tumbler in his hands. “There is nothing to it. I simply need some time to myself. They’ll understand. A lot has happened.”

Leo’s heart bled for him as he looked at the shadows that settled underneath his brother’s eyes. He didn’t know the particular details about what happened following the events of the social season, only that the woman that had captured his little brother’s heart left without a word, taking a bit of it, if not the entire thing with her. Leo knew better than to allow Liam to deal with it on his own, but he couldn’t quite find the right words to say without it awakening a considerable amount of pain. He had approached Drake about it and Leo was only met with a biting remark from the snarky man.

“Maybe if you stuck around long enough, you’d know...”

Leo knew better than to fire back, taking into account that it was situation that made Drake react the way he did and that, well… his words stung more than Leo would like to admit.  

When the scandal had surfaced at night of the Coronation, Leo knew that it was nothing but a despicable ruse to get the foreign woman out of the running. If it was one thing he regretted the most it was leaving his little brother to endure it on his own. Liam had his close companions, yes, but there was a bond between the brothers no one else can reciprocate. In the end, Leo had selfishly decided to leave, having had enough of the royal crowd. He had taken advantage of his brother’s selflessness asking Liam if he wanted him to stay knowing well enough the he wouldn’t allow him to do that. Liam knew of his distaste towards the royal lifestyle and its overbearing rules. He had insisted that it was alright and was quite determined to figure it out and that, more importantly, he didn’t want Leo to miss out on the motocross tour that was starting in the following days. In turn, Leo did not hesitate to pack his bags and leave.

Leo remembered him saying, ‘Everything will be fine.’ He would only find out later that it would turn out not to be.

Regina sighed before continuing. “Liam, I understand the pain of losing someone you love. Go on, take the time you require to heal your heart. Nevertheless, don’t forget, what is important. Following your father’s death, the Cordonian people need you right now. You cannot abandon them for long. It is your duty to represent our kingdom, bestow strength and trust within our people, but they are beginning to lose faith in you as a king. You need to prioritize their needs and reestablish stability,” Regina paused for a breath, carefully thinking about her next words. “But you needn’t do it alone...Liam, you have your queen and now it is time to consider other things…”

Dread seeped through the blood in Liam’s veins. He knew he couldn’t delay the inevitable much longer. He understood his duties as ruler for a country he loved dearly, but the past 7 months had been hard on him and his father’s death only added to the unrelenting agony in his chest.

“…an heir will bring on tremendous rapture…a flourishing kingdom…”

Liam stopped listening as her words continued. They trailed off in echoes and swirls inside his head with no grasp.

Liam wanted her. The woman that visited his dreams every night. He dreamt of a life with her. There was love, laughter, and endless bliss. That’s how he pictured his future once and thinking about it now made his heart ache much more. He felt like he was suffocating. His chest was tight and his eyes burned from the swelling of unshed tears.  

Liam swallowed his anguish and forced out his next words, “I will…proceed with such circumstances when I return.”

“Liam-” Leo began, but when Liam looked up at him with sadness his gaze and half a smile, he realized there was nothing he could say that would make him feel better. He slumped in his seat.

A heavy silence descended them until Regina cleared her throat. “Is there anything else you wanted to address, Liam?”

Liam shook his head. “I have said everything that needed to be said. Thank you for your time. You may be on your way now.”

Regina gave a curt nod. She reached over for the folder on the table and opened it. Removing an article, she stood and faced Leo.

She handed him a pastel green envelope. “I received a correspondence from Evangeline, your mother, several days ago and it’s addressed to you…”

Leo stunned, didn’t know what to say. He grabbed the letter with uncertainty.

“What you decide to do is up to you.”

“Thank you, Regina.”

The Queen Mother gave him a sympathetic smile. “I am sorry about earlier. You didn’t deserve that. I just don’t like seeing you get hurt- either of you. Life is not an easy tread…” She looked over at Liam for a brief moment. Although he was hunched over fiddling with his wedding band, his gaze was a million miles away. “you simply have to do the best you can. Anyways, I’ll leave you boys to it.” She exited the room, leaving her sons with their thoughts.

Leo flipped the letter around in his hands contemplating what to do. Why contact him after all these years? She never made an effort to contact him before. Did he really want to reconnect with the woman that abandoned him? The one that left him feeling alone and unloved? His gaze shifted, descending thoughtfully on the bright flames crackling in the fireplace. He stood up and sauntered over to bring the letter above the blaze.

“Leo!” Liam gasped. He felt his brother’s hand enclose his. “Think about this.”

Against the illumination, Leo could make out the scribbles of black ink etched across the paper- her handwriting. He sighed heavily, his heart and mind in a battle of emotions-anger, hope, sadness, or elation. He didn’t know what to feel.

“At least read what she has to say.”

Leo withdrew. “You’re right, I suppose.”

“’You’re right, as always’ is what you meant to say.” Liam added humorously. Leo shoved him playfully, packing the letter in his jacket.

“You’re not going to read it now?”

“I’ll do it on my own time. I need to process this.” Leo poured himself another much-needed drink and immediately chugged it down.

Liam’s phone began to buzz in his pocket. He peered at it inquisitively as it flashed the familiar unknown number. This was the third one from the mysterious caller this past week. He answered the call. “Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello? May I ask who’s calling?” Leo locked eyes with Liam, brows raised in curiosity. Liam shook his head. There was nothing but white noise at the other end. “Hel-” The call ended abruptly with a ding.

“That was strange.” Leo commented.

“It wouldn’t be the first peculiar occurrence. I’ve been getting them randomly over the past three months.”

“Have you had Bastien look into it?”

“My King.”

The two men turned as the head of the king’s guard made his presence known.

“What is it, Bastien?” Liam inquired. He sensed something was wrong.

“It seems there has been a breach in security. An intruder-a woman. We have her contained if you would like to see her.”

Leo whistled, “This day just keeps getting rather interesting.”

Bastien looked grim,

“She says she is here to kill the King of Cordonia.”

[loverboybarnes]

for the two of you - ch. 1

GradSchool!Bucky x GradSchool!Reader

Summary: You are in your last semester of grad school, so close to finishing with your college career forever. One requirements is to take a writing class that requires interpersonal communication with your peers, and you as a Computer Science major and a single mother of a 3 year old, are not familiar with personal relationships. What happens when you’re assigned to get to know James Bucky Barnes? How will he affect you, if he does at all?

Word Count: 1,626

Warnings: none really, but maybe young mom? i’m sorry, new to this so not entirely sure please help! 

a/n: Hi! I’m new to this whole fanfiction writing and publishing but I just have so many ideas and want to try and execute them as best I could. This is my first fanfic so please don’t be so mean :( I will take constructive criticism though! I want to get better because there’s so many fic writers that I look up to! Anyways I hope you enjoy this beginning chapter :)

One semester. One semester left, you thought to yourself as you got your stuff ready for your last semester of grad school. “Come on, come on where is it?!” you whisper-yell to yourself as you ruffle through your bag looking for your apartment keys. “They’re right here” you hear your roommate and best friend, Wanda say from behind you. You turn around and sure enough you see Wanda wiggling your keys in her fingers. You smile lightly as you hurried to her and grabbed the keys “Thank you Wanda, you’re truly a lifesaver” you warmly say, turning around heading for the door, “I wish I could stay for breakfast bu-” “Yeah yeah first day of last semester of college” she says excitedly giving you a big smile. You smile back, “Dinner tonight at the restaurant down the street?” “You got it. We’ll be there, go on now get your study on” she smiles and with that you’re out the door. 

The ride to your first class of the day doesn’t take too long, you’ve mastered the subway routes and times after being in the city for the past 2 years. Luckily, your last semester isn’t a full schedule as you’ve taken multiple classes over the summer to ensure that you graduated on time. Your schedule this semester includes 3 classes in total; Human Communication in Writing 502 on Wednesdays, Cyber-Security 500 every Mondays and Wednesdays and Human Computer Interaction 415 on Mondays and Wednesday as well, the first class of your day.

Your first class goes by pretty fast, knowing all you do on first days is go over the syllabus and expectations of the class. You have a few hours before your next class but you decide not to go home just yet, as much as you want to go home, you know if you did, you would never get anything done. With a groan, you head to the nearest cafe as you cover your body with your big coat. January in New York City is the coldest time of the year and after 2 years you are yet to get accustomed to the cold weather, which you’re not typically used to and have clearly not bought enough warm clothes to give you the warmth you so desperately needed as you sped-walked down to the cafe. You arrive at the cafe and see it’s not really packed, which you’re thankful for. As you take a seat at an empty table, you grab your laptop from your bag and set it down in front of you, opening it to your class syllabus. You hoped you would be able to identify all of the classwork ahead of time and plan time for your assignments so you don’t fall behind as you already presume is going to happen. 

After going through the syllabus you bring your thoughts back to the real world and not the one you just planned around with your assignments, and notice that it’s late and you have exactly 17 minutes to get to your last class of the day. “Shit!” you mutter as you get up gathering your things and rushing out the cafe door. Not paying attention to the people around you, you bump into a big tall figure. “Oh I’m so sorry, I’m really sor-I-” you stumble on your words as you look up and see beautiful blue eyes look at your frazzled state. “It’s okay, it’s okay don’t worry about it” he smiles at you and you can’t help but feel completely vulnerable under his gaze. Why do you feel like that? You gasp quietly at the realization that he’s the first guy you’ve interacted with in a year, apart from the occasional class partners from school. “Do you need help with this?” he asks, bringing  you out of your thoughts, looking down at your messy pile of papers. “Oh no no, but thank you. I’m actually in a hurry and have to go but really, I’m sorry for bumping into you” you say and smile apologetically at him. He smiles, shaking his head, muttering something about it being no problem but you can’t make sound of it as you’re already back on your feet to rush to your class, which you’re for sure going to be late to on your first day. Great. 

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

Your day comes to an end pretty fast after your being tardy to your class. Again, it was just going over your syllabus for the semester. You walk out of your class and look at the time on your watch and realize it’s close to time for dinner and you’re getting pretty hungry, which is very evident when you hear you stomach growl which is expected as you only ate the one croissant and hot coffee from the cafe earlier in the day. You pulled out your phone, calling Wanda as you headed towards the nearest subway station. She picked up almost instantly and greeted you with a cheerful hello. “Hey Wands, it's me, how's it going?” you asked, your heart warming up at the picture that popped in your head. “Going amazingly, having so much fun! Is everything okay?” she asked. “Yeah yeah, everythings good, I just finished class and was hoping it was okay if we grabbed an early dinner? I’m pretty hungry and wanna see you guys” you say softly. “Yeah yeah, we were actually getting pretty hungry too. Wanna meet at the restaurant?” she asked. It wasn’t long before you hung up after agreeing to meet at the restaurant, which made your stomach grumble once again at the thought of food in your system.

The ride to the restaurant seemed like it was never going to end, when in reality, you realize it only took 23 minutes to get to your destination. As you enter the restaurant, eyes wandering around looking for Wanda, you automatically smile as you hear your daughter laughing alongside Wanda. Your heart warms at the sight of her cute little smile, as you reach over and cover her tiny body with yours in a tight hug, “what is Auntie Wanda saying that is making you laugh so much huh silly girl?” you ask, laughing with her too. She instantly turns around and gives you the biggest hug, “Momma!!” she screeches into your ears, making you pull away from the hug, still having the biggest smile on your face. “Hi pretty girl, I missed you a lot today. Did you have fun with Wanda?” you asked softly pulling her chin. She smiles and nods, “We had the best day today! She let me color and we ate ice cream!” she says but immediately covers her mouth, as if she wasn’t supposed to say anything. You and your daughter look over at Wanda who has her jaw on the floor, making direct eye contact with her. “Rosemary! I cannot believe you outed me like that!” Wanda exclaims, “I’m sorry auntie it was an accident!!” Rosie yelled running over to give Wanda a hug. “It’s okay, I forgive you” she replies, giving Rosie a kiss on the head, “but lets see, will your momma forgive us?” she asks, looking at you with pleading eyes and you can’t help but laugh at the sight of your best friend and daughter. “Yes I forgive you” you laugh, waving them off as you sit down in a chair next to Rosie. “Only because I’m starving and I had a long day without you” you say as you pick up the crayon that was on Rosie’s placemat which is also a coloring page. “Me too, momma” Rosie says. “So how was your day?” Wanda questions from across the table. You look up, “it was okay. The same old same old, just going over the syllabus and getting my assignments in order for the semester, I still have one more class to go to on Wednesday.” Wanda smiles, and you know its genuine. Ever since you got to New York for grad school 2 years ago, Wanda has been the biggest supporter of you, big enough to revolve her school schedule around yours as well doing school days on days you don’t and vice versa so you guys could take turns of watching Rosie everyday without having to pay the crazy university daycare that they charge. You were extremely and beyond grateful to have Wanda, who took you in when you didn’t know you needed it. She knew that you were always there for her too, for anything and everything. Including helping her study for a mandatory computer science class she had to take, even though she hated anything that had to do with math. Luckily for her, computer science was the one thing you were best at and you were more than willing to help her pass the class, whatever it took. Whatever the case, you were there for Wanda and Wanda was there for you and it was an amazing set-up, even when things didn’t always pan out the way you expected. “Thank you Wanda, seriously” you grab her hand “I don’t know how I could have made it to my last semester of grad school without you” you smile softly. She squeezes your hand tightly, “You have no reason to thank me, you and Rosie are the best people I’ve ever met” she smiles widely. “You too” you say before letting go of her hand and grabbing the menu in front of you. “Okay let's eat, what are you gonna eat baby?” you ask Rosemary, who’s having the time of her life coloring in the big fish printed on the paper in front of her. After a long day, coming home to Rosie and having Wanda as a best friend makes you incredibly content.  

[ladyfantasy98]

Flyers and Favors Part 3!!

Hello everyone! I hope you all are staying safe and sane in these difficult times.

So a few days ago I published another chapter to my Danny Phantom fanfic “Flyers and Favors” to fanfiction.net. You can read it there, or right here under the cut!

Thank-you all for your amazing support for this story and me!

You can read Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

Danny Phantom flew through the air at a breakneck speed, arms clasped to his sides. He strained himself forward, ever further, relishing the cool air blasting him in the face for a moment. He wanted to look behind him to see how close his opponent was, but he knew he couldn't afford to turn around now; it would cause him to slow down too much.

So he focused on his end goal: the tallest oak tree in Amity Park's...well...park. At 70 feet tall, with an ever-expanding canopy of branches and a thick, wide outer bark, Danny would recognize it anywhere. If he could just get there he'd be in the clear.

A buzzing sound on his left, closer than ever before. The enemy was catching up. With a last burst of speed and a strangled cry, Danny lurched forward, arm outstretched, reaching for the tree. His hands closed around one of the branches, and he swung himself around it a few times, expending his built-up momentum. After a couple more cycles around the branch, he turned to face his adversary. Breathing hard, he grinned and exclaimed,

"I win again, Valerie! Take that!"

Valerie Gray, also known as the Red Huntress, hovered on a black hoverboard a few feet away from the oak tree. She had slowed her own dash to the tree once she saw that Danny had beaten her. She was dressed in her signature red and black battlesuit, composed of ecto-charged nanobots (rewired by Tucker to prevent Vlad Plasmius or Technus from overpowering it). She touched her helmet and it melted away, revealing the scowl on her face and her curly brown hair, pulled back in a high ponytail. She crossed her arms and glared at the Ghost Boy.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Danny. But like it or not, I'm getting closer all the time," Valerie answered, her glare transforming into a smirk. Danny shrugged, unconcerned, and floated down to the ground. Valerie followed, dismissing her hoverboard with a couple taps of her heels, landing softly on the grass.

"Sure, sure, just keep telling yourself that," said Danny. Dusk was setting in, the last of the sunlight fading behind the horizon. That, coupled with the shade of the oak tree, made Danny's glowing green eyes stand out even more.

The night was quiet, aside from the occasional bird call or squirrel scampering up a tree. Snatches of conversation and laughter floated along the air as people headed home for the night. It might have been June, but the longest day of the year was still a week or so away, as was the end of school. Thankfully for Danny, Valerie, and their friends, they had officially graduated high school last week and were no longer slave to the school schedule.

They did, however, still adhere to a town patrol schedule. Ghost attacks in Amity had lessened in the last year or so, but they were still a problem. Danny and his cousin Danielle could usually contain the ones that slipped out of the Fenton portal, but that still left their stronger enemies, and occasionally natural portals in nearby towns or wild areas would open up, allowing random ne'er-do-well ghosts access to the town.

Tonight was Danny and Valerie's turn on patrol. Once high school classes became tougher and the class/patrol workload became harder to manage, Tucker had created an automated shuffler that determined who went on patrol each night, whether they had a partner, and who that partner was. Last night Sam and Tucker kept a lookout; the night before it had been Danielle. Sometimes, when Jazz was home from Columbia University, she would take a shift to alleviate her brother's and his friends' burden.

After making a few loops around town and finding no disturbances, Danny and Valerie had decided to take a break and race each other towards the park. Danny hoped they could be done for the night, since there hadn't been any whiff of ghostly activity.

But then - almost as if the universe had read Danny's mind and wanted to prove him wrong - a shiver rippled down the Ghost Boy's spine and he gasped, emitting a blue wisp of air.

"Ah, man," Danny groaned, before adopting a fighting stance, eyes darting around for the source of his Ghost Sense. Valerie copied him, sliding into a battle-ready pose, body tense.

A familiar female laughter echoed around them, and then Ember McClain faded into view before them. She hovered about five feet off the ground, clutching her purple and electric blue guitar to her chest.

"Wassup, punks," she greeted, grinning wickedly.

Valerie growled in response. "What do you want, ghost?"

Ember's grin faded. Nose turned up, she glanced away from Valerie and looked at Danny instead. "How can you stand to hang out with her, Phantom?" the ghost asked icily. "Three years in and she can't even remember anyone's name."

"I know better than to say your name, you wannabe American Idol," Valerie retorted.

Ember's eyes blazed with anger. "Wannabe!?" She raised her guitar and aimed its neck at Valerie, who raised a red ecto-shield in response.

Before they could engage, however, Danny hovered between them, arms spread wide. "Woah, woah, ladies! Let's calm down a bit, alright? It's such a beautiful summer evening, do we really have to spoil it with fighting?"

"She started it," both Valerie and Ember exclaimed in unison, followed by glaring at each other.

Eventually, though, Ember turned away from the huntress. "But don't worry, Dipstick, I don't plan on fighting you tonight."

Danny brightened at that. Maybe they could actually come to a peaceful resolution for once, and he and Valerie could be done for the night. "Really? So you're just gonna head back to the Ghost Zone now? Awesome."

Ember threw her back and laughed. "Ah, you wish, Baby-pop. But I've got free reign tonight 'cause you're not allowed to stop me, remember. You said we could do whatever we wanted as long as we did it after your graduation, right?"

"I...did not say that, actually," Danny responded. Then he frowned. "Well, I mean, I didn't say that exactly. I guess the "wreak havoc" part could have been misconstrued..."

Valerie rolled her eyes. "I knew sending that flyer was a bad idea," she muttered.

Danny sighed. He rose up into the air, green ecto-energy surrounding his hands. "Alright, Ember, I'm sorry, but I can't quite let that happen. But I'm sure we can work something out. I guess I do sorta owe you for letting me finish high school first."

"Yeah, Dipstick, you do. And don't worry, I got something special for you right here," the popstar replied, reaching into her pocket. Danny raised his still-glowing hands, while Valerie flipped open a wrist-blaster. They waited, breaths held, watching for Ember to make the first move. Ember pulled her hand out of her pocket and -

- thrust a piece of paper into Danny's face.

Danny reared back, surprised, his ecto-blasts sputtering into nothingness. He grabbed the paper from Ember and examined it. Printed onto a cream-colored paper, blue and black lettering exclaimed:

You're Invited!

To: Danny Phantom's Graduation Party

Where: Ember McLain's lair, the Ghost Zone

When: Saturday, 2pm

Requirements: You're capable of NOT trying kill the Ghost Boy for a few hours

RSVP: Immediately. Note - Party crashers welcome, but you will be forced to clean up afterwards

The ghost boy looked between the paper and Ember. Ember was looking to the side, arms crossed.

"Well?" she asked, still not looking at him. "Are you going to be there or not?"

"I - I don't understand. You're...throwing me a party?" Danny asked, bewildered. Valerie frowned and snatched the paper from him, eyes widening as she read its contents.

"Well...yeah. I mean. It's a big deal. Graduating high school...not...not everyone does it, you know," Ember said. She glanced at him, a strange bluish-green blush on her face. "And...you've had a rough time with it. Because of all the ghost fighting you do. So, I...yeah. We're throwing you a party."

"Wow. Um. Thanks, Ember," Danny told her. He floated downwards, putting his feet on the ground. He had attended a few graduation parties this summer already - Valerie's, for one, as well as Star's (again, because of Valerie). And he, Sam, and Tucker had had a combined graduation party at Sam's house for all their families - Mr. and Mrs. Manson hadn't been thrilled with the idea, but since Sam had not only graduated high school (something they'd feared their rebellious daughter would have abandoned during one of her moods), but with good grades and plans to go to college as well, they'd indulged her her specific celebratory requests.

Danny had enjoyed those festivities, even if they'd been a little embarrassing, too. But he'd never in a million years thought anyone in the Ghost Zone would throw him a party, especially Ember - and for a human milestone celebration at that. He hadn't even thought the flyer would keep so many of his frenemies away, and yet, he'd had an almost ghost-free last couple weeks of school.

"Hey, Phantom! I asked you a question! The response says immediately, so respond immediately!" Ember snapped, breaking Danny from his reverie. He shook his head to clear it, and saw that she was glaring at him.

With a sheepish smile, Danny answered, "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there. Thanks again, Ember."

The popstar returned his smile. Tension left her body, and she sounded satisfied as she said, "Good. I'll see you there, then."

"Oh, actually," Danny started, looking over at Valerie, "is it alright if some others come, my friends I mean? Since -"

"No!" Ember snarled, her hair lighting up in fury. After a moment it died down, and the bluish-green blush returned. "I - I mean, no. This is - this is a ghost party, that we're throwing for you, halfa. So - ghosts only." A pause, then, "You can bring Danielle, then. But no one else. Got it?"

"Got it," Danny replied, sweat-dropping a little.

"Good. So you're coming. Remember, Saturday at 2 o'clock." Ember leaned in, getting up in Danny's face. Her eyes narrowed as she growled, "Don't. Be late."

Danny nodded dumbly. Ember pulled back, nodded approvingly, and then jettisoned off, riding on her guitar. Danny watched her go, wondering how he could have offended her this time.

Valerie also watched the ghostly musician leave, a frown on her face. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Danny?" she asked. "Accepting her invitation?"

Danny turned towards her, tilting his head. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well, you know...it's Ember. She's caused you and the town so much trouble over the years."

Danny waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, yeah. But so has practically half the Ghost Zone. It's no biggie. Even if this is some kind of prank or trap or something, it's nothing I can't handle." He gave her a lopsided grin. "Right?"

Valerie's lips quirked up, but she still sighed. "I know you can handle the ghosts, Danny. When you're fighting them, that is. It's just...lately you've settled into this...kinda friendly stalemate, and I'm just worried...I don't want you to get hurt, if they take advantage of your forgiving nature."

She reached out a hand and placed it on Danny's arm, leaning in slightly. Her gaze softened as she looked at him, pale green eyes crinkled in the corners. "I care about you, Danny. You know that."

Danny smiled back at her, warmth spreading through him. He covered her hand with his for a moment, relishing the touch, but then - slowly, hesitantly - he moved it off his arm. He and Sam were officially on - another - break, but whatever he may or may not be rekindling with Valerie, he wanted to make sure it was something they were both ready for, that it wasn't a rebound or a pre-college summer fling. He wanted to take things slow.

"I know you do, Val. And I appreciate that. And...I hear what you mean. About the ghosts." Danny rubbed the back of his head. Valerie had gotten a lot less fanatical about eliminating ghosts once she'd learned that Vlad Masters was really Vlad Plasmius, and that Danny Phantom was really Danny Fenton. She trusted Danny to make judgement calls on whether or not a ghost needed destroying or simply to be sent back into the Ghost Zone (98% of the time, he decided it was the latter).

But there were times when a more forceful hand was needed. Ghosts could be destructive, whether they meant to be or not. That was why Danny became a superhero in the first place. Why he and Team Phantom did patrols every night. Why Valerie and Danielle had spent last summer on a ghost-hunting road trip, sending ghosts that slipped through natural portals around the country back home.

And maybe Danny had gotten a little cozier with his enemies than ever before, but that wasn't bad, was it? He never let them run wild, never let them hurt anyone. If he turned a blind eye so Kitty and Johnny could have a date, or let Klemper sleep over a few times, what was the harm?

And if this party really was an excuse to ambush him or something - well, then he would just have to remind the Ghost Zone who was the boss.

Danny smiled at Valerie, who still looked concerned. "It's fine, Val. Don't worry about it." He rose up into the air, merging his legs into a wispy tail. "Let's head in for tonight, alright? Sam said we could watch a movie at her house after we finish."

Valerie stared at him for a few more seconds, before she nodded, a reluctant smile on her face. "Yeah. Sounds good."

She put her helmet back on and activated her hoverboard. Danny waited until she was in the air, and then the two of them sped off towards their friend's house.

...

Saturday rolled around quickly enough, and at 1:45pm, Danny and Dani stood in front of the Fenton portal.

Dani rocked back and forth on her purple sneakers. She was wearing a dark purple tank top and black shorts, her black hair pulled into a loose ponytail. "I'm so excited! Going to Ember's for a party? This is gonna be so fun!"

Danny chuckled. "Yeah, well, don't get too carried away, alright? Honestly, this could still be a trap."

Dani rolled her eyes. "Please. Faking a graduation party and ambushing you is so not Ember's style. Walker's, maybe, but no one else's."

"Yeah, that's what I said." Danny had reassured his friends of the same thing countless times over the last few days.

From one of the workbenches came an angry rattling sound. Both halfas turned to see a white and green Fenton thermos shaking in a glass container. It currently contained Skulker, and probably would for the rest of the summer. Dani had insisted on it, since he'd so blatantly ignored Danny's request to not bother him during finals.

Danielle stuck her tongue out at the thermos, then turned to her cousin. "Come on, let's go already!"

"Alright, alright." Danny chuckled once more. Then, gathering his energy, he exclaimed, "Going Ghost!"

Danielle grinned as two white rings appeared around her cousin, transforming him into Danny Phantom. A second later, she let the transformation wash over her, and then there were two Phantoms standing in the lab - black and white jumpsuits replacing their regular clothes, black hair dyed white and blue eyes now a glowing green.

Danny floated over to the portal opener and pressed his thumb into the DNA scan. A mechanical grating sound was heard, and then the portal opened, revealing the swirling green vortex that led to the Ghost Zone.

Danielle joined Danny in the air, and then both Phantoms flew from one end of the portal to the other, leaving the human world behind.

[underoossss]

Fire and Trust - Chapter 1 - H.O.

Prince AU

Prologue

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x OFC

Warnings: none, just maybe some typos oops.

AN: this took me so long to publish but I really wanted this to be perfect so thank you for your patience. I love this story, I love these characters and I hope you do too. Let me know what you think. Feedback is always great! 

———

CHAPTER 1

The sound of something bubbling in a cauldron and a strong smell fill the small room. There’s a physician tending to what could be assumed to be a potion, his face is focused and partly covered by long grey hair that is starting to grow whiter at the top. He is humming to himself, unaware of the young woman watching him from the open window. Waiting for him to leave before she gets caught, not that she ever gets caught, but one can ever be too careful. She’s not there for the potion brewing on top of the fire, no, her sight is on the yellow liquid inside tiny vials on the other side of the room. The antidote to a new flu that’s starting to spread around different kingdoms. The main villages, the big ones near the castles, have no problem dealing with it. Their physicians have access to the herbs and other ingredients necessary for the antidote, all of them provided by their kings who order them from far off lands. Smaller villages that are often overlooked by their rulers, don’t have the same privilege.

So here Emersyn is, stealing some vials from King Salazar’s physician to take to with her to the village of Westbelle. It was the village where she grew up in, the one that welcomed her every time she came back and the one that wasn’t wealthy enough to afford a cure for the flu. There haven’t been many affected by it, only 5 people so far but with the virus spreading so fast she wanted to get the vials to Westbelle’s physician, Milton, as soon as she could. A few of them would be enough, he was talented when it came to rationing ingredients as one has to be when things are so scarce.

The physician Emersyn had been spying on stops humming which makes her focus on him once more. He’s putting on green cloth gloves and taking the cauldron out of the fire, setting it aside and extinguishing the flames with a bucket of water. As he puts the bucket back by the barrel of water next to the door, there’s a knock. “Lyon? His Royal Highness is calling for you.”

“I’ll be right there.” Lyon says to the guard who had stepped inside the room, making Emersyn duck her head just enough to see but still avoid being seen.

The guard nods and stands by the door as Lyon stirs the potion a couple of times and adds some herbs. “That should do it. Let’s go, it needs to rest for two hours anyways.” Lyon opens the door and the guard follows, closing the door behind him and giving Emersyn the chance, she was hoping for.

She waits a couple of minutes before climbing in through the window, quiet as a mouse and her steps careful around the many cauldrons the physician has lying around as well as the jars on the shelves. She moves towards the yellow vials, reaching for one but noticing they aren’t sealed, so she walks to a nearby desk to look for cork stoppers. “Seriously Lyon, organize your desk.” Emersyn mutters to herself, opening drawers, moving papers and opening boxes to find what she was looking for. “Aha!”

In the last drawer there’s a clear jar full of cork stoppers, so maybe Lyon wasn’t that disorganized. She takes 8 vials, sealing them shut and double checking they won’t leak on her way back before carefully placing them in her backpack. Bells ring outside, from the chapel probably, and startle Emersyn who takes a step back and knocks down an empty cauldron. She turns around and is glad that the cauldron barely made any noise, that is until it starts to roll away towards a shelf full jars with ingredients. Emersyn flinches as five jars fall to the floor and break making a racket, then the door bursts open. With a deep breath, Emersyn turns towards the guards by the door and smiles.

“Good morning, boys.” She crosses her arms behind her back.

“Let us see your hands, thief! Return whatever it is you stole, immediately!” The guard on the right demands, pointing his sword towards her. He’s tall and blond, his eyes are dark brown and determined. The guard by his side though, looks like he’s about to pass out by the nervous look in his eyes.

Emersyn puts her hands up, leaving them close to her bow and arrows. “Come on, no need to make a scene. It’s such a nice day outside.”

“We don’t care, now, put t-that bow on the floor and h-hand over the backpack.” The nervous guard manages to get out which makes the thief smile.

“No can do, boys. Like I said, the weather is lovely outside, so I might just enjoy the outdoors.” Emersyn takes her bow and arrow, shooting one at the tall ceiling in the physician’s office, just above the window. There’s a rope tied at the end of it which she uses to climb towards the window, at a speed that’s helped her escape in many occasions. How her arrows hold her weight? Emersyn doesn’t know, an old lady in her village says they’re probably cursed but Emersyn doesn’t mind if it gets her out of situations like these.

“Stop that thief!” She hears the guards yell but pays them no mind as she climbs out of the window and uses two arrows to climb towards the roof. The red roof tiles have lost some of their color from the sun and crack slightly as Emersyn steps on them and starts to run.

The kingdom’s alarm goes off and she hears guards start to follow her. Turning her head to look back, she sees that there was a door near a watch tower which the guards had used to get on the roof. “Where was that door when I needed it?” She rolls her eyes and picks up the pace, scanning her surroundings, thinking about her next move. To her left the roof forms an L shape but there is another watchtower with a door. Emersyn assumes more guards will come out of it any moment now, so the left side is not an option. She looks straight ahead and smiles as she spots a tall tree. It would be a big jump, she thinks, but I might make it. Grabbing the arrow and the rope, Emersyn takes aim as she nears the end of the roof jumping as far from it as she can manage before shooting her arrow at the tree she had spotted. She holds on tightly to the rope, yelling at the strain of being pulled by it and cursing at the splinters she’s getting from the trees branches as she sinks halfway on them.

“Follow her!” The same blond guard from before yells after her. “Now!”

“Good luck.” Emersyn smirks, climbing down the tree and starting to run west.

She’s weaving through the trees left and right to use them as cover, and she manages to get a little more than a mile between her and her pursuers before she hears the distant sound of horses galloping behind her. She scans her surroundings, the river still flows on her far right, so she makes so sure to avoid it in case the guards decided to chase her using their boats as well. Instead, Emersyn decides to move closer to the mountains knowing the high ground will give her an advantage against the guards and their horses. Just as she finds a path towards the uneven rocks at the base of the mountain though, a low growling reaches her ears, this sound closer than the horses in her pursuit.

“No, not them again.” Emersyn mutters, picking up her pace knowing that the other party chasing her were much faster than horses.

Here’s the thing, ever since Emersyn had to fend for herself on her own, some strange creatures stared chasing her. They had the body of wolves and the head of a lion, their fur was grey and green and their fangs looked incredibly sharp. Most importantly, they always managed to find Emersyn no matter where she went. They could lose her trail for a couple of days before they were on her tail once more. Lately though, they were getting even better at finding her, managing to do so in at least a day and sometimes in less than twelve hours.

A glance backwards confirms her fears and she forces herself to run even faster when the creatures jump over some hedges and get close to her. Emersyn is breathless but she has to get to those rocks and try to get away, she also doesn’t want to shoot any arrows at them because they look like huge kittens and she doesn’t want to hurt them. The creatures, however, seem to have no qualms about hurting her. Once Emersyn gets close enough to the rocks at the base of the mountain, she decides to shoot an arrow as high up as she can with the rope attached to it so she can use it as support to climb. The creatures catch up though and are fast enough to jump on the rocks leading up to where she’s hanging in the air. Emersyn stops mid climb and swings towards a nearby pine tree, knowing that it would be harder for the creatures to follow her that way. She curses at the splinters she gets on her fingers but wastes no time while climbing higher up, the creatures growling and jumping below her as they try to reach her. Trying to come up with a plan as fast as possible, Emersyn scans her surroundings and smiles when she spots a path up a very steep and rocky hill to her right. Taking a deep breath, she takes another arrow and shoots it towards the path. She makes sure the arrow is secure and she ties the end of yet another rope on a branch before using her backpack to get from the tree to the mountain once more, grunting when the rope gives out and she almost falls down towards the creatures. Taking the arrow and the rope with her, she starts to climb up the steep path thankful for the creatures not being able to reach it. One glance back makes her unaware of a downward slope at the top of the path and she slips towards a dark cave, which’s dark tunnel leads out to the middle of two big mountains.

There is a tall tower next to a lake and surrounded by several apple and orange tress. The tower is grey, with vines and wildflowers growing on the bottom and slowly making their way towards the top. Its roof is light blue and easily lost in the color of the sky and several golden details around the windows look like they have faded throughout the years. Emersyn hears the creatures snarl again in the distance and that is enough to get her running once more. She makes her way to the tower, grabbing onto the vines to climb and reach the open window on the easter side of the tower. There is a faint smell of roasted vegetables in the air as Emersyn gets closer to it before gracefully jumping in. She turns around and glances out of the window to see if she had been followed but there is no one out there except for her, and a beautiful view. Emersyn can see hints of the sea to her left beyond the mountain, the sun which is starting to get lower, gleams on the water like diamonds. Emersyn has little time to appreciate the view though, because suddenly there is a sharp pain on the side of her head, and everything turns into darkness.

--

Four voices speak up from their place in the tower’s kitchen.

“Is she the one that matches your heart Harrison?” That is Jeffrey the pitcher, his tone is excited as he sees the only other person he’s ever encountered since his time in the tower.

“Will she get you out of here?” Daria the oven speaks up next, the oven door squeaking the tiniest bit as it moves with each word.

“But he doesn’t know how to control his powers yet! He never uses them.” The grumpy voice of the clock, Martin, matches its reprimand towards the prince. Although he is fairly annoying with its need to follow rules, he has taught many life lessons to the prince as grew up during the last few years.

“Hush!” Stephen, the stool that is usually by the window, interrupts Martin before he can lecture the prince further, getting them all back to the matter at hand. “Harrison, why did you hit her?!”

“I panicked okay!” The prince says. “It’s been 6 years since I’ve seen another human and I am paranoid.”

Harrison had hit the girl that jumped through his window with a pot. Guilt fills his heart, but she had startled him and seeing as he had been making dinner, the pot was the closest object he could use to defend himself. His friends though, are more interested in knowing if she is the person his fairy godmother had said would rescue him, than on the fright she had given him. The prince had been humming to himself as he put more vegetables into his stew, the cozy atmosphere of the kitchen keeping him at ease and more cheered up than he usually is. It had taken him months before getting used to living in the tower and making the place feel like a home, but deep down he knows nothing will compare to the warmth and love that has filled his kingdom.

The prince gently moves the girl so sits on a chair, he also puts her backpack as well as her bow and arrow out of reach from her so that she doesn’t put an arrow through him when she wakes up. He keeps the pot on one hand as the other moves the hair that had fallen over her unconscious face away from her eyes and- “Wow.” Harrison breathes out. The prince is sure he has never seen someone so beautiful.

He feels a nudge on his leg as his dog Chip sits on his side also assessing the intruder. The chocolate Labrador nudes his leg again, as if urging him to wake her up but Harrison pays him no mind. He isn’t sure what to say when she does wake, or what she’ll do when she figures out she knocked her out with a pot.

“She’s beautiful.” Stephen says, to which the rest of Harrison’s friends agree.

The prince nods in a daze as his eyes scan the intruder’s face. She has thick dark waves, her skinned is beautifully tanned and kind of freckly, he assumes she spends a lot of time in the sun. There is a line that’s starting to form between her eyebrows, like she furrows them a lot and her eyelashes are both long and dark and fan out above her cheeks. Just as the prince leans closer to her face, the girl wakes up with a start which startles him and makes him drop the pot while his hands catch fire for a second.

Harrison’s mind short-circuits for a moment. Purple eyes. She has purple eyes, and now she’s speaking, what is she saying?

She is furrowing her eyebrows at him. Harrison makes a mental note that he was right before about that as tilts her head in a questioning manner. Her gaze shifts from him to his hands. “Wow you must have hit me really hard on the head or did your hands really just catch fire?” She shakes her head soon after her question and scans her surrounding as she stands up. “You know what? I don’t have time for that. Thank you for hitting me in the head with your pot but I have something very important to do.”

She’s wearing dark green pants, a long shirt black and a wide brown belt that has small pockets here and there. Her clothes are mended in several places and her black boots are covered in so much mud they are practically brown. There are scrapes on her hands as well as multiple cuts and splinters, but Harrison can’t stare any longer because she’s side stepping him and heading for the kitchen.

He sees her spot her backpack where he had place it before, on the floor by the kitchen table and near Clemence to look after. “No, you can’t leave!” Harrison says trying to stop her, running to stand in front of the window.  “You have to help me.”

She looks over her shoulder at the prince, an amused smile appearing on her face before she speaks. “Not off to a good start with the whole asking for help thing. You did hit me in the head. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” As she reaches out for her backpack and arrows, Chip grabs them both and runs to the other side of the room. Daria then moves to stand in front of the open window to the right of the intruder.

“We can’t excuse you just yet, not until you’ve agreed to help him.” The oven says in its calm voice, trying to keep any conflict form escalating and hoping to convince the girl.

The intruder is confused for a second, but she shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly. “Surprisingly that’s not the strangest thing that’s happened to me,” She looks at Harrison. “Please tell the oven to move.”

“Her name is Daria.” The prince says approaching her.

The girl sighs in exasperation, rolling her eyes. “Okay Daria please move, I really need to get going, and dog give me back my backpack.” Her eyes land on Chip who is lounging comfortably on her belongings. Chip merely tilts his head at her in question, starting a staring contest of his own until Harrison speaks up once more and takes the stranger’s gaze away from his dog.

“His name is Chip, and I’m Harrison.” He extends his hand out at the girl for her to shake but she only nods in greeting and doesn’t disclose her name. His heartbeat picks up and there’s a feeling of dread swirling in his stomach. This is his only chance of getting out of the tower, of seeing his family again. He feels his eyes water at the thought of them, are they doing alright? Are they safe? And do they miss him just as much as he misses them?

“Please just hear me out, it’s kind of a long story but I’ll keep it short.” Harrison takes a step towards the stranger, knowing nothing about them but not caring. He feels something deep within him and it makes him trust her, he knows she’s who his fairy godmother meant when she told him someone would rescue him. This intruder with purple eyes might be his only hope.

Something changes in those purple eyes when she scans his face and her features soften the slightest bit. Her foot taps impatiently on the floor and she looks around as if assessing her options before huffing and nodding, She walks back to the chair where she was previously sitting and crosses her arms across her chest. “You’ve got 5 minutes.”

——

Tagging: @sunflowerspidey @hollandharrison @soft-haz @dameronstyles 💖

[icyharrington]

Is It Wrong?- The Epilogue (Michael Langdon X Reader)

HELLO ALL!!! here is the long-awaited epilogue to finally finish the is it wrong series. i sincerely hope y’all enjoy this, and i am SO sorry for taking forever to write this!! i had some kind of mental block stopping me, but i finally forced myself to sit down and JUST DO IT. i wanna thank every last one of you who’ve supported this series of filth, especially the ones who’ve been here since the beginning. when i published that first chapter, i never realized just how much joy this fucked up little story would bring into my life. y’all are the best. 

plot: it’s been 5 years since your whirlwind fuckfest-turned-romance with your stepbrother, michael langdon, came to its angst-filled end. life is good, but there’s just one thing missing.

warnings: fuckboy michael, fem!Reader, post-high school au, fluff, some angst, cursing/talk of sexual shit/yanno the deal lmao. no smut..... IM SORRY LOL IT JUST DIDN’T FIT INTO WHAT I HAD PLANNED!!! but i hope y’all still like it regardless lmao

word count: 4k

tag list*: @alicecooper19 @wroteclassicaly @ritualmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @trelaney @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @kissydevil @sloppy-wrist @michael-langdon-appreciation @ccodyfern @sojournmichael @starwlkers @theinevitableprophecy @divinelangdon @maso-xchrist @space-princesssss @ahslangdon101 @isabellaserpentiawesson @stupidocupido @bademliimagnum @nana15774 @urlocalgothb @hexqueensupreme @gold-dragon-slayer @pr1ncessd1e @langdonsboots @langdonstrash @isoldedax @fckinsupreme @hisgirlwonder @venusxxlangdon @obsessivenostalgicbaby @noelle525 @kleinegamerin @lambofcairo @kiiteiru @littledemondani @beriveri @dcvilrising @grossgayartist @featherpool-852 @discocalico @cryptid-coalition @nu-tt @diamcndscarred @chocolateandhorror @michaelsfrenchtoast @ms-mead @sarcasticbxtch20 @ringpop-poppy @coollangdon @s7venwonders @imjustasadhoe @melodylangdon @bahsasblog @codycrazy @sojournmichael @perfect-ginger-maniac @baphomet-wears-gucci @bigstudentpatrolbonk @langdonsgothgf @jazzcowgirl @a-n-t-s @blind-daydream @langdonsblood @ritualmichael @myluciferiscody @fentycoven @gracebtw @bongwaternation @fckinsupreme @thewalkingtrenchcoats @king-of-mischief-and-bitchez @hoseokchild @witchywcmans @satanicbimbo @mallorys-winter @langdonskillerqueen @anantarora @aradevil @anemia-doll @muralskins @funtomimagines @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes @our-mrlangdon @lotsofhunny @sevenwonderwitch @horrorstreet @kpopmademedo-it @naughtygranger @codyshands @krazycags01 @skullag

*if you asked to be tagged but aren’t on my tag list, i apologize!!! some blogs just can’t be tagged for some reason :(

You looked out the window and onto the rain-slick city streets, captivated by the way the rows of glowing neon signs reflected in the puddles, and you smiled.

Everything was as it should be.

Sandwiched between your two best friends in the back of the Uber, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride at the thought that you’d made it. You’d graduated college, managed to land your dream job, and, most recently, you’d finally been able to get yourself a spacious apartment in the city you loved most. It was the first time in your life that you’d ever felt truly in control of things.

Tonight was a celebration of those accomplishments; you and your friends had arranged to go to the bars by your new apartment that night and get shitfaced like you were college freshmen again, just enjoying each other’s company. You could already feel the warmth of the shots of Fireball you’d pregamed with earlier that night, cheeks flushed and rosy. Life was good.

The Uber screeched to a halt in front of the bar, your friends’ resulting drunken squeals drowning out the rap song that drifted loudly through the speakers. You grinned, waving a quick goodbye to the bored-looking driver before dispensing onto the street with your group, one by one.

Through the glass windows, you saw a lively scene; it seemed as though you’d chosen the perfect night to go out. The bar was dim, lit with overhead lights that shifted from color to color, a band stationed at the stage in full action. People danced, drank, sang; you could see couples making out sloppily in booths. This was going to be a fun night.

Outside the bar stood two skinny boys, dressed casually in ripped jeans and band t-shirts, who you were nearly certain were underage. They chatted as they smoked cigarettes, seemingly unfazed by the chilly breeze and light drizzle coming down over their mops of overgrown hair. One of them, the lighter-haired one of the pair, almost reminded you of…

“Hey ladies,” said one, blowing cigarette smoke from the corner of his mouth with a smirk. You could feel his alcohol-glossed eyes travel up and down your body, drinking in your fishnet-clad legs and prominent curves, accentuated in a maroon leather miniskirt. “You trying to have some fun?”

At this, you and your friends erupted into giggles, long fingernails gripping at each other’s forearms as you fought to balance yourselves.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” your friend said, resulting in a fresh wave of laughter.

Ignoring the boys’ scowls, you continued inside, sighing in relief at the warmth, which was only reinstated by the slew of sweaty bodies flowing throughout the building. The music was loud- perhaps not the most accurate in terms of pitch, but it was certainly good enough to dance to, and, luckily, you were in a dancing mood.

“You shoulda gave them your number,” your friend joked as you made your way to the bar, her voice raised so you could hear her above the noise. “When’s the last time you’ve gotten laid?”

You rolled your eyes. Ever since you’d broken up with your ex a year before, your friends had been nagging you to engage in causal hookups to help you get over him- they’d tried setting you up with any single man they could get their hands on, and had even gone as far as creating a Tinder page in your name. In all honesty, you had no interest in men at the moment; you were far more focused on your career, which was your top priority for now. Sure, you got horny sometimes, but wasn’t that what vibrators were made for? You were twenty-two. You had your whole life ahead of you to find some good dick.

Besides, most men you’d been with in the past could hardly satisfy you, so it seemed almost better to do things on your own. The only man you’d ever actually enjoyed being with was…

You flinched, pained by your second reminder of a certain blond-haired fuckboy that night. Even now, nearly five years since the last time you’d seen him, it hurt to think of his name.

“Three Sex on the Beaches, please,” your friend said to the bartender, before turning back to look at you. “Sounds like something you’re in need of.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, drumming your fingers on the wooden surface as you turned to watch the band, which seemed to be some kind of punk-pop-rock hybrid, the members decked in leather and chains.

“You know I’m right,” your friend shouted, running her manicured fingernails through her hair as she craned her neck to look at the bartender over her shoulder. “Hey, the bartender’s pretty cute. And he even kind of seems like your type.”

You glanced back disinterestedly, hardly breaking your attention from the band to look at the man in question. Right now his back was to you, and he appeared to be talking to some drunk girls as he fixed your drinks; his blond hair was slightly outgrown, fraying out in unkempt curls at the base of his neck, toned bicep flexing under the thin shield of his form-fitting white t-shirt as he reached for a bottle of peach schnapps.

From what you could see, he did seem like your type- almost too much so, it almost starting to creep you out how similar this guy looked to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You looked away.

“Oh yeah, he is cute,” your other friend said, leaning her elbows back on the bar. “(Y/n), you should pull some moves on him.”

You groaned. “Why are you guys so obsessed with getting me fucked?”

“Because, (y/n). You’re gonna get cobwebs down there if you don’t get your shit clapped soon. Eventually you’re just gonna forget how to fuck altogether,” your friend said, her voice earnest.

“Yeah,” agreed your other friend. “Your vag is gonna close up like a pierced ear when you forget to put in earrings for too long.”

“Three sex on the beaches?” came an amused-sounding voice from behind you, and within the first few syllables of the man’s sentence, you could feel your throat start to close up. You knew that voice anywhere, raspy and rich and warm, even five years since you’d last heard it. But… how? Michael was in California. It had to be some kind of doppleganger working behind the bar. But damn, that was uncanny…

You were almost afraid to turn around, doing so reluctantly, too nervous to care about the fact that you were gnawing all your vampy lipstick off your bottom lip.

“Yeah, that’s ours,” said your friend brightly, accepting her glass, and you decided to rip the band-aid off, forcing your body to turn all the way around.

“So you ladies like sex on the be- (Y/N)?”

Holy ever loving mother of christ. It was him. It was actually. Fucking. Him.

There behind the bar, with plump lips agape and saucer-wide baby-blue eyes, was Michael Langdon, looking almost exactly the same as you remembered. Now, though, most of the baby fat had gone from his face, with one silver earring dangling from his left ear and stubble shadowing his even-more-defined (if that was even possible) jawline. Your mouth went dry, opening and closing as you racked your brain for something to say, heart racing so quickly in your chest you thought you might drop dead at any moment.

“You guys know each other?” your friend asked after several seconds of silence, stretching past you to exchange a glance with your other friend, an immaculately-drawn eyebrow poised in concern.

“Uh- yeah. We, um. Michael, why are you here?” The words didn’t come out exactly the way you’d planned for them to, but his presence had you tongue-tied. In a matter of seconds, you felt like you were eighteen again, broken-hearted and in love and overflowing with red-hot hormones all at once.

“I- (y/n), why are you here?” You could tell that Michael’s lips were beginning to creep into a smirk, and your stomach dipped.

“I just moved to the city,” you said, gripping the edge of the bar and breathing slowly to try and calm yourself. You’d fantasized about finding yourself in this very situation so many sleepless nights before (not that you’d ever admit it), but never had you really expected for something like this to happen. This had to be some sort of profound universe-aligning moment of fate or something, because this was all way too fucking weird to be a coincidence. “I got a job near here. I thought you were in California?”

Michael shook his head with a shrug, sliding your drink across the bar towards you as your friends watched on with quiet fascination. “Haven’t lived there since- damn, has it been three years now? Yeah, I kind of dropped out of college.”

Not really surprising, you thought, relaxing a bit as you lifted your drink to your lips. Michael never had really struck you as a college type.

“So how’d you end up here?” you asked through a wince. The taste of vodka was strong on your tongue even despite the compensating ingredients of your drink, and you still hadn’t managed to get used to the taste of hard liquor even after four years of college.

“Well, I ended up meeting this girl at a party and we became like, boyfriend and girlfriend or whatever,” he said with a half eye-roll, as if he was too cool to admit to something as sensitive as being in a relationship. “But she was in college and I was like, in a band, which didn’t really end up working out, and then she graduated and got a job offer here in the city.”

You licked your lips, picturing Michael as the front man of a rock band, pushing sweaty strands of blond hair back from his forehead as he gripped a microphone with one calloused hand. If only he’d had the talent to match with the look.

“So I was still living with my mom and I needed an excuse to move out, so… I moved with her.” He gave a nonchalant shrug, shirt pulling up slightly at the hem and exposing a sliver of his smooth, firm torso; you were almost ashamed that your mouth began to water.

You tried to ignore the inkling of- jealousy, was it? No, not jealousy, that word was far too harsh for what you were feeling- surrounding the idea that Michael had moved here for a girl, and you went to wash it away with another sip of alcohol. It’d been years. You needed to get over yourself.

“So you live with her now?” you asked coolly, or as coolly as you could manage, looking down into the muddy-organgey abyss of your Sex on the Beach. Your friends, having apparently picked up on the fact that you were in the middle of a very important conversation with a very important person, had taken it upon themselves to join the small crowd surrounding the stage, leaving the two of you alone.

“Fuck no. She ended up fucking my best friend. But I already had this job and I liked the scenery so I stuck around. Wasn’t like there was anything better waiting for me in California.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Now you know how I felt when you fucked (b/f/n).”

“Oh come on, give me a break. I was eighteen. And she had great tits.” He was leaning forward on his elbow now, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and grinning at you. “Admit it. You were just mad ‘cause you wanted to be the one to get the pipe.”

You snorted, trying not to think too deep into the warm, fuzzy feeling that was starting to flourish in the pit of your stomach and travel up towards your fluttering heart. “Oh, please. I used to fucking hate you.”

“Yeah, but you definitely didn’t hate fucking me,” he said with a wink, pink tongue darting out to wet his full bottom lip. “Though I definitely don’t blame you. I was a huge fuckboy.”

“Was?” you joked, taking another sip. Your eyes fell to a small tattoo on his inner forearm- a simple four-leafed clover, which you secretly thought looked sexy on him.

“Still got that smart mouth, I see,” Michael said, pale eyes glinting with a familiar mischievousness that you hadn’t realized you’d missed until right then. “There must be a lucky guy on the receiving end of all that attitude.”

“Nope,” you said flatly, flipping your hair over your shoulder and leaning forward, perhaps subconsciously hoping for your cleavage to become a bit more pronounced. “Men bore me these days.”

“Men? Or just all men who aren’t me?” He flashed you a devious sideways grin, and your mouth fell open at his boldness. “You’re looking pretty good tonight, baby sis.”

“Hmm. I don’t think that title is quite accurate anymore,” you retorted, hoping he couldn’t tell how flustered his usage of the old pet name had gotten you- apparently he still had that particular talent intact. “But you don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Yeah?” He glanced down at his shirt, which you only just now noticed was stained with some kind of brown liquor. “Not exactly the kind of thing you’d want to be wearing when running into your first love.”

Your heart stirred in your chest, and you could see Michael’s cool smile fade into a panicked wince. First love. You were Michael’s first love.

“First love, huh?” you said softly, tilting your head to one side to regard all of Michael’s handsome features at once. There’d always been some semblance of hope, deep in your belly, that Michael’s feelings for you all those years ago had surpassed simple lust and teenage hormones, but you’d of course had your doubts.

“Well, I mean. Not love, but like. You know.” Michael lifted one hand to scratch the back of his neck, and you could almost swear you saw a dusting of pink cross his porcelain cheeks. “Actually, I mean, yeah. You kind of were my first love. Kinda fucked up that my first love was my stepsister, but…”

“Well, you were my first love too. Unfortunately. You put me through hell, you know that?” You were only half-joking, idly twirling a strand of (h/c) hair around your finger, shifting your weight onto one leg to jut out your hip.

“God, yeah. I know. I suck.” He shook his head, loose waves falling to obscure his hooded eyes, and quickly he tucked it back behind his ears. “I really am sorry, you know.”

You shrugged. “We were just stupid, horny teenagers. It’s all good.”

“Yeah, I mean, but I never really stopped feeling guilty about the way I treated you. You gave me so many chances that I never deserved,” he said, leaning in close so he didn’t have to scream for you to hear him. “You were the perfect girl for me and I took you for granted.”

“Well, like I said…” you paused to take a swig of your drink, nursing your light intoxication, which had affected you to the point where the flavor of alcohol no longer made you cringe. “We were stupid teenagers. And I was very stupid to keep taking you back. Especially after that god awful Applebee’s date.”

He laughed, and your insides warmed at the sound, a light giggle that you only ever reserved for crushes unintentionally passing your lips. Why did this all feel so right?

“Look, I was broke, okay?” He moved in a little closer, crystal blue eyes locked with yours, and for a fleeting moment you thought- or, rather, hoped- that maybe he’d kiss you. Of course, you knew that such a prospect was only wishful thinking, but still you felt a sting of disappointment when he didn’t.  “But I can promise you that if I took you out now, it wouldn’t be to Applebee’s.”

You took a second to respond, your clouded mind trying to figure whether or not that’d just been a proposition of sorts. Fuck it. “You might just have to prove that to me.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled, this time a little softer than his usual devilish smirk. “A girl like you really wants some loser bartender to take her out?”

You cocked your head. “A girl like me?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, look at you.” He sighed, dragging his gaze up and down your body, which you had to admit looked pretty bangin’ in the outfit you’d chosen for tonight. “I mean, it goes without saying that you’re a fuckin’ ten. But you’re also smart. And successful.”

“How do you know I’m successful?” There was a tiny part of you that was eating this up, having the once-big-and-bad Michael Langdon practically crawl at your feet. “I never even told you what I do for a living.”

“I just assumed, since you said you just moved here, and we both know this city ain’t cheap. But I always knew you’d be successful. I mean, you’ve always known how to go after what you want.” he said. “Plus that outfit looks expensive as hell.”

At this, you struck a dramatic pose, having drank enough that you didn’t really care about making yourself look stupid. “Well, I wouldn’t say it was expensive as hell, but it definitely was worth a few paychecks.”

Michael clicked his tongue but chuckled, a longing expression apparent on his sculpted face. “You’re out of my league.”

You scoffed, slurping up the last of your drink. “I don’t believe in leagues. I mean, I pulled you when we were in high school, didn’t I?”

“You were out of my league then, too.”

“Oh, please.” Such a statement was enough to make you laugh out loud, perhaps a bit too loudly, but you thought that might’ve been propelled by the fact that you were pretty damn drunk now. You shoved the now-empty glass towards Michael, settling your hands on your hips. “You were like, the hottest guy in school.”

He raised a brow, a cocky half-smile stretching across his lips. “Oh yeah?”

You hiccuped (you always had been a lightweight). “Duh.”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, picking up your glass and bringing it off to the side to be cleaned. When he returned, he was brandishing a bottle of Windex and a stained washcloth, which was draped effortlessly over one broad shoulder. For a reason that could not, for the life of you, be explained, this view of Michael compelled you to squeeze your thighs together.

“You know,” said Michael slowly, spraying the wooden surface of the bar with chemical blue, “it’s kind of creeping me out how weird this all is. Like, us both ending up here. After five years.”

“I know, right?” Your eyes fell onto Michael’s veined hand, gripping the cloth that was now being used to rub down the bar, and you fought back the sudden urge to run your fingers over it. “I mean, it’s like, everything is aligning so perfectly. It has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

“Didn’t we say that to each other? That night on the beach right before our parents split? That if things were meant to work out, they would one day.” He sucked his lips into his mouth, taking in a sharp inhale and letting his head fall back towards the ceiling.

“It’s like everything’s finally fallen into place.” You breathed, allowing the amalgamated scent of liquor and cigarettes and cleaning chemicals to consume you, hips swaying back and forth to the mellow cover song the band was playing, imperfect but beautiful. “We’d be stupid not to try things again.”

“We would, wouldn’t we?” Michael said, tossing the rag off to the side once he’d finished his cleaning, the surface of the bar now so shiny you could practically see your reflection in it. “I promise this time, if you really want to give me a second chance, I won’t fuck things up. I’ll treat you how you should’ve always been treated.”

There was something about the look in his eyes that made you believe him.

From the crowd by the stage came a chorus of voices, most off-key, as they began to sing along to the band’s cover song, which you were certain you’d heard before, but couldn’t quite place when.

And all that is now

“Hey, I love this song,” Michael said suddenly, as if it hadn’t just been playing for the last several minutes, “fuck, this brings me back to high school.”

You wondered if he still chewed cinnamon gum, remembering the sweet spicy scent of his hot breath on your throat, late at night in the back of his cluttered sports car, the dashboard lights illuminating your half-dressed bodies. You wondered if he still played video games with those ridiculous oversize headphones, if he still liked to take midday naps, if he still fell asleep to South Park reruns.

Most of all, though, you wondered about the things you’d never witnessed, all the things you’d missed over the past five years.

And all that is gone

“Do you still chew cinnamon gum?” you asked abruptly, too drunk to worry about whether or not such a question was weird to ask.

He wiggled his eyebrows, reaching into the back pocket of his torn black skinny jeans (god, he’d always looked so good in those) to retrieve a crushed pack of gum, CINNAMON printed in red lettering across the front.

“Hell yeah,” he said, pulling out a piece and tossing it to you. “That shit beats mint by far.”

You unwrapped the gum and popped it in your mouth, immediately flooded with memories the moment you began working into it with your back teeth.

And all that’s to come

He reached out to flip the foil wrapper over, smoothing out its creases before grabbing a black pen from next to the register. You watched through your dreamlike haze as he jotted down a series of numbers in crooked, loopy handwriting, his tongue poking from the corner of his mouth in concentration. Underneath the phone number he wrote something else, in bold capitals, turning the paper around and sliding it towards you with a wry grin.

666-425-0493

LET’S TRY THIS AGAIN

You took the paper, folding it up and shoving it deep into your skirt pocket, inadvertently sinking your teeth into your lower lip. “Maybe I’ll call you sometime, big bro.”

For a fraction of a second, he landed a glance on your chest, lips twitching upwards just slightly at the corners. “Oh, I’ll be posted up until you do.”

“How about another Sex on the Beach?” you said, even though you were drunk enough on Michael’s presence as it was; it felt like you were floating in the blackness of outer space all while rolling with the soft, turning waves of the ocean, and you couldn’t help but want to feel this way forever.

And everything under the sun is in tune

“Coming right up, ma’am,” came Michael’s teasing reply, making you squirm; your eyes fell shut as you allowed the band’s blaring drum and bass to swallow you whole, swaying aimlessly to the rhythm, your head lolling back and forth.

The music was loud enough to drown out your thoughts, and the sound only increased as the song came to its powerful end, your teeth chattering with adrenaline as an electric chill made its way up your spine.

But the sun is eclipsed by the moon

When you opened your eyes, Michael was back in front of you, and all but the colorful overhead lights had dimmed; the entire bar was potent with color, Michael’s angular features appearing so much softer now, cast with bright purple, then blue, then a shade of pink so vivid it looked almost otherworldly.

Your eyes connected with his for what must’ve been the thousandth time in all the months you’d known him, but you felt, deep in your bones, that this was really only the first.

You had a good feeling about this.

[joonsrack]

+Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Jeon Jungkook, Min Yoongi x Park Jimin x Jung Hoseok (side pairing)

+Genre: rags to riches au, kind of college au, SFW, slow burn, WIP.

+Word count: ~2.8k (for this chapter)

+Chapter: Prologue | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | ?

+Summary:

“Funny how even in this ridiculously absurd situation, life had made Taehyung a third-wheel. Or a sixth.

If Bangtan Dry Cleaning was his fairy godmother, Jimin his little mouse, the jacket his magic dress and the club scene his ball, where the fuck was his prince charming?

A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts.”

+Warnings/Rating: G, swearing, polyamory, very cliché, very unrealistic.

+A/N: betaed by the amazingfantasticbeautiful @httpangelicjimin​! These chapters are already published on ao3, but I felt the need to edit them before cross-posting to Tumblr, which is why it took...months... Anyways, I’m going to be posting the already finished chapters once a day (so as to not flood ppl’s dash), but I have no idea when chapter 5 and friends are going to be ready.... enjoy.

It took them a few months to get used to it all.

Befriending Kim Seokjin meant automatic acceptance as Kim Namjoon and Jung Hoseok’s friends. Min Yoongi was a little more selective, but he came around after a while. Or Jimin’s smile made him come around.

Befriending Kim Seokjin also came with free VIP access to all the clubs and bars his family owned, which meant half of Seoul’s nightlife, really.

And finally, befriending Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok and Kim Namjoon apparently meant becoming moderately famous by exposure.

Blurry pictures on Instagram, accounts dedicated to finding out what they wore, people arguing if they really were heirs of mod empires. Only a few people, really, but enough for it to feel risky. Enough for them to wipe their social media of anything that could clue to who they really were.

Most people wouldn’t expect a poor makeup artist and a struggling student on scholarship to be able to afford the clothes they were wearing, and so no one was looking for their real identity where they would find it.

It only took one person who would recognize them though, to put an abrupt stop to their whole masquerade.

And then, the beginning of the beginning soon gave away to the end of the beginning.

J.J.K.

“How can I not know of this designer? When he does pieces like that?” Taehyung's eyes had gotten wide, getting dangerously close to tearing up.

“Do you honestly believe you know every designer on this planet?” Jimin asked, smirk stretching the corner of his lips.

“Every relevant one, yes.”

The delicate golden thread shaped the three letters in an elegant typography, ‘J.J.K.’ the only thing written on the satin black tag.

The jacket was most probably handmade, the lining expertly sewn; the corduroy material looked luxurious, the rich black color making the embroidery stand out stark. The myriad of buttons embroidered created some random and some not so random patterns and color arrangements, making the jacket hypnotizing to look at.

Taehyung grazed at it with the tip of his fingers, trying to make sense of the masterpiece in his temporary possession.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve stopped breathing for two full minutes now.” Jimin said, a hint of worry in his otherwise amused voice. He’d been the one to find it earlier in their shift, putting it aside for when they would be alone, knowing his fashion-obsessed best friend would probably get emotional over it. And emotional did he get.

“I’m having a moment.” Taehyung answered, not looking away.

“When you finish wiping that drool off your chin, I’m waiting for your instructions on what to wear tonight.”

His friend wordlessly waved his hand at a pile of garment bags put aside on a counter.

It was now tradition; Jimin might have had enough fashion sense to dress appropriately, but when it came down to it, Taehyung was the real connoisseur. He was usually the one who picked both of their outfits when they were about to hit Gangnam’s club scene.

Moments later, when both of them had changed into their outfits and Taehyung could finally put the jacket on, Jimin appeared behind him in the mirror.

He looked sharp in his light blue bowling shirt and deep-blue pants, neck bow safely secured around his neck. The leather loafers completed the look perfectly. They might have been a size too big for Jimin, but the shoe selection was usually smaller, so they had to make do with what they had, or risk going in their well used no-name sneakers.

“Why do you always make me wear neck things?” His friend whined.

Which was enough to snap Taehyung out of his trance.

“First of all, that’s not a ‘neck thing’, you vulgar heathen, and you know it. Second of all, that neck bow is worth more than half of your rent, so be thankful you get to wear it. And finally, you and I both know that when I tie stuff around your neck, it drives them both crazy.”

Jimin’s whole face went red with a fierce blush as he primly walked away.

His friend had come a long way since their first time, and wasn’t fazed by the price of these clothes anymore. What got to him now, was the mention of the three-men dance he had going on with Yoongi and Hoseok.

For Jimin, the realization that both rappers were not straight had come with its load of excitement; then, seeing them act as a couple had come with maybe a little bit of disappointment, but mostly a lot of longing. Both of the rappers being interested in him though, that had brought a lot of confusion.

Jimin being oblivious to people’s interest in his person wasn’t something new for Taehyung, and so, it had taken a lot of persuading on his end to finally convince his friend that the objects of his infatuation seemed to be pursuing him as an addition to their tandem.

He still seemed skittish with the situation, though.

“What if they lose interest once they find out I’m just a regular middle-class dude, borrowing clothes to pass as something I’m not?” He had wondered aloud a few weeks ago.

Taehyung dared hope the two men weren’t that shallow, but that was something they needed to figure out someday.

Not that day, though. Taehyung wanted to enjoy his jacket for the night, maybe even sleep with it in his bed. Was that weird?

The clothes he had picked gave him a more subdued style than usual, but he knew that over-accessorizing with the jacket would be a total fashion faux-pas. He’d gone for a simple off-white loose dress shirt tucked into some ripped jeans that looked like any other but could probably pay the deposit on a small house.

It was finally time to put the jacket on, and it’s with reverent movements that he carefully slid the chef-d'oeuvre off the hanger and onto his slim frame.

He suspected it to be tailored to the owner, since the fit felt unnatural on him, but nothing would stop him from wearing it. Plus, it would take sharp fashion-trained eyes to notice anything.

He finished the look with a pair of black and white trainers and a Gucci hairband, because rich people sent their hairbands at the dry cleaner, apparently.

Jimin was already adding the finishing touch to his make up when Taehyung, satisfied with his last inspection in the mirror, sat down for his turn. His friend made quick work of smoking his lid, adding a little bit of gold eye shadow just because. He smacked a bit of tinted lip balm on both their lips, and then, they were ready to go out as Gangnam’s best-dressed socialites and celebrity friends.

That night was Answer night.

Answer was a little bit farther away, meaning a bigger taxi bill, but the music was good and there were more than one VIP lounge; when Seokjin was in the club, one of them was strictly reserved for him and his close friends.

The added privacy meant Jimin and Taehyung had been the witness to these kinds of scenes more than once since Seokjin and Namjoon had deemed them trustworthy.

These kinds of scenes being their two hyungs making out like global warming had canceled tomorrow.

“Will they ever come up for air”, Jimin asked, but he was sandwiched between Yoongi and Hoseok and both of his thighs had one hand on it; he didn’t get to have an opinion.

“Every time we come here, I swear to god.” Yoongi signed, but he was the owner of hand #1, and so, didn’t get an opinion either.

The owner of hand #2 just smirked, as he was Love’s biggest fanboy.

Funny how even in this ridiculously absurd situation, life had made Taehyung a third-wheel. Or a sixth.

If Bangtan Dry Cleaning was his fairy godmother, Jimin his little mouse, the jacket his magic dress and the club scene his ball, where the fuck was his prince charming?

A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts, and Seokjin’s mouth off Namjoon’s.

“Are you expecting anyone else?” Taehyung asked, just as pure glee appeared on Seokjin’s face.

“Jeon Jungkoooooook” He screeched, as the door opened.

His hyung pounced on the newcomer, catching the man off guard, and by some miracle didn’t end up on the floor. Instead, Seokjin was being spun in a bear hug, eliciting groans of pain from him and laughter from the room.

“Yah! Stop training like a meathead, muscles will replace all of your brain cells.” Seokjin said once he was both feet safely planted on the floor, hands on his back like an old man.

“I would ask you to share yours but I know you don’t have any.” ‘Jeon Jungkook’ answered with a shit-eating grin.

He was probably around Taehyung’s age, if maybe a little bit younger. He was definitely handsome, but his face wasn’t what caught Taehyung’s attention;

His Bottega Veneta jacket was from a collection that had been released only a few days ago, it’s intricate work of suede and leather tone-on-tone patch making it worth over 6 million won. Maybe Taehyung would’ve matched it with something else than a white button-up and some dark pants, but the young man made it work. His shoulder-to-waist ratio brought saliva to Taehyung’s mouth; those kinds of proportions were just not fair. If he had this kind of person modeling for him, he’d never go out of inspiration.

“I missed you, you little shit.” Seokjin said instead of reciprocating, clearly fond of his friend.

“Europe was boring without you hyung.”

“As if,” Seokjin said, putting one arm around Jungkook’s neck and pinching his cheek with his free hand. “I saw your Instagram stories, you liar, you probably wouldn’t recognize boredom even if it sat on your face.”

Taehyung had been introduced to some of Seokjin’s ‘friends’ before. They were all mostly spoiled chaebols with attitude issues that his hyung had met through banquets his family attended or organized.

He seemed to hate every single one of them, really, but had to maintain a good relationship with them for the interest of his family.

This time though, it felt different. He could feel his friend’s sincere affection for the younger man. He seemed comfortable with his presence as well, seeing as he plopped himself back into Namjoon’s lap when it was time for them to sit back down.

Jungkook gave a quick look to their small group, double-taking once he got to Taehyung. He looked away quickly though, fast enough for Taehyung to wonder if he had imagined it.

“I see some new faces.” He stated, smiling curiously at Jimin. It wasn’t hard figuring out what was happening on the small couch where three grown men had squeezed themselves just to have an excuse to stay close.

“We found two stray kittens a while back. Haven’t been able to get rid of them since then.” Yoongi said, giving a little pat to Jimin’s thigh.

Jimin pouted at Yoongi’s teasing, squeezing a little more into Hoseok’s side.

“That’s Jimin, he pouts a lot.” Hoseok said fondly.

“We can’t all be the sun incarnate.” Jimin said, making Hoseok laugh out loud.

“And that’s Taehyung. Don’t insult fashion in his presence.” Namjoon said, with the tone of someone who had been on the receiving end of multiple fashion-related scoldings.

Taehyung smiled at Jungkook as the man turned to him.

This time, It wasn’t Taehyung’s imagination; Jungkook’s eyes lingered on him, a subtle frown furrowing his brow.

Did he have something on his face?

“Hey.” He simply said with a pointed eyebrow, feeling awkward under the extra attention, but then Jungkook barely nodded in his direction before engaging Namjoon in a discussion. Taehyung found himself nonplussed at the unwarranted cold treatment.

“Your Jacket is very interesting.” Was the first thing Jungkook said after ignoring him for most of an hour.

Taehyung smiled off the comment, squinting a little, wondering why that statement sounded so heavy with suspicion.

“It’s weird, because I swear I have the exact same one in my wardrobe.”

Taehyung was having a hard time grasping what was weird about that.

“It happens sometimes, which is why we have who-wore-it-better sections in magazines these days.” He answered with an air of boredom, containing his irritation.

“Nah, the thing is,” Jungkook said, plopping himself next to Taehyung, making him slightly back up into the opposite corner, “mine was personally designed for me by Alessandro Michele, as a goodbye gift. A one-of-a-kind Jacket, if you will. Where did yours come from, though?”

The first thing that came to Taehyung’s mind was, who the hell this Jeon Jungkook was that he personally knew Gucci’s head designer.

Then, the rest of the sentence started resonating around his mind, gone very blank.

Personally designed for me.

A one-of-a-kind Jacket.

Alessandro Michele.

It clicked; The quality of it,  the lack of label, the absence of it in any fashion magazine…

The Tag.

J.J.K., embroidered in golden lettering.

Jeon Jung Kook.

It was probably bare survival instinct that made Taehyung keep a neutral face, as his worst nightmare was slowly coming to life. That was it. The end of the adventure. Their lie coming to an embarrassing stop.

Jungkook’s proximity made him feel caged in.

He seemed to be waiting for an answer, but Taehyung didn’t have any. His brain couldn’t come up with a lie that wouldn’t be easily exposed with a quick google search. He had to say something though.

“How is that any of your business”. Taehyung found himself saying dryly, his attitude coming on top as his anxiety got the better of him.

It didn’t do the trick, as Jungkook simply chuckled.“I’m just curious is all. It’s a heck of a coincidence.” He leaned forward, shrinking the space between them; he surprisingly smelled of fresh flowery detergent. “What did you say your name was again?”

“You’d know it if you weren’t so distracted trying to figure out where I shop.”

Jungkook chuckled again and tried to reach for the sleeve of the jacket, where a heart was made out of purplish silver button, but Taehyung slapped his fingers away before he could.

“Hands off. It’s precious.”

“It's precious so you take it out to the club?”

Taehyung shrugged, aiming for disinterested and relaxed, the complete opposite of his state of mind. He had to figure out a way to get out of there. He had to think of something quickly.

He couldn’t just stand up and make up an excuse; the back of the jacket was even more memorable than the front, Jungkook would know right away if he saw the vague fish shape and sword pierced heart. He had to leave while the other man was either gone or very distracted.

Then, as if lady luck was smiling down at him herself, a waitress came in with a new round of drinks. An idea struck him.

After the waitress set the glasses in front of them, Jungkook reached for both, passing him his tumbler, and waiting in position to clink their drinks with a small smirk.

Taehyung was so annoyed, he didn’t even feel bad for what he did next.

Watching Jeon Jungkook’s smug smile wipe off his face was almost as satisfying as ‘accidentally’ spilling the cold content of his tumbler all over the man’s lap.

Jungkook jumped to his feet, shaking the ice cubes off, cursing.

“Oh no, my bad. I’m so sorry.” Taehyung said from his unchanged position on the couch, not sounding one bit like he was.

Jungkook gave him an assessing look, while the rest of the room was simply laughing their asses off. The waitress was nervously offering him a towel, but he simply shook his head to decline.

“I’ll go clean up in the bathroom.” He said, throwing one last look at Taehyung’s counterfeit sorry expression.

The moment the door to the connected bathroom fell shut, Taehyung jumped to his feet.

“I forgot I’m meeting someone early tomorrow. I’ll be leaving first. Thank you for everything again Hyung.” He said, not giving anyone the time to answer before he escaped through the door of the lounge.

The bouncer there greeted him as he went, and he barely nodded in goodbye before throwing himself down the hallway leading to a back door. Once outside, he hailed the first taxi he saw.

“Taehyung! Wait up!”

He got in the taxi nevertheless, but left the door open so his friend could slide in after him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Jimin asked once he was sitting next to him, the taxi setting into motion.

“This fucking jacket happened.” Taehyung said, engulfing his face in his hands, hoping to wake up from this nightmare.

“What? Did something happen to the jacket?” Jimin started frantically checking the embroidery for imperfections or stains.

“No. Worst. It’s his.” Taehyung answered in a small voice.

“What?”

“The Jacket. It’s a unique piece, and it’s his.”

“Whose?”

“Jeon Fucking Jungkook. It’s a jacket Gucci’s head designer made exclusively for him.”

Jimin was stunned into silence, slowly grasping the amount of shit they were both into.

“Fuck.” He said, voice low, slightly shaky.

Fuck indeed, thought Taehyung.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[newstfionline]

Wednesday, October 28, 2020

Pair of studies confirm there is water on the moon (Washington Post) There is water on the moon’s surface, and ice may be widespread in its many shadows, according to a pair of studies published Monday in the journal Nature Astronomy. The research confirms long-standing theories about the existence of lunar water that could someday enable astronauts to live there for extended periods. One scientific team found the telltale sign of water molecules, perhaps bound up in glass, in a sunlit region. Another group estimated the widespread prevalence of tiny shadowed pockmarks on the lunar landscape, possible shelter for water ice over an area of 15,000 square miles. Moon water has been eyed as a potential resource by NASA, which created a program named Artemis in 2019 to send American astronauts back to the moon this decade. Launching water to space costs thousands of dollars per gallon.

Colleges Slash Budgets in the Pandemic, With ‘Nothing Off-Limits’ (NYT) Ohio Wesleyan University is eliminating 18 majors. The University of Florida’s trustees this month took the first steps toward letting the school furlough faculty. The University of California, Berkeley, has paused admissions to its Ph.D. programs in anthropology, sociology and art history. As it resurges across the country, the coronavirus is forcing universities large and small to make deep and possibly lasting cuts to close widening budget shortfalls. By one estimate, the pandemic has cost colleges at least $120 billion, with even Harvard University, despite its $41.9 billion endowment, reporting a $10 million deficit that has prompted belt tightening. Though many colleges imposed stopgap measures such as hiring freezes and early retirements to save money in the spring, the persistence of the economic downturn is taking a devastating financial toll, pushing many to lay off or furlough employees, delay graduate admissions and even cut or consolidate core programs like liberal arts departments. “We haven’t seen a budget crisis like this in a generation,” said Robert Kelchen, a Seton Hall University associate professor of higher education who has been tracking the administrative response to the pandemic. “There’s nothing off-limits at this point.”

Thousands Forced to Evacuate From California Fires (NYT) Two firefighters were gravely injured and tens of thousands of Californians were forced to flee their homes on Monday as two new fires ripped through Orange County. About 90,800 residents in Irvine were put under mandatory evacuation orders because of the Silverado Fire and the smaller Blue Ridge Fire, said Shane Sherwood, a division chief for the Orange County Fire Authority. High winds and low humidity fueled the fires’ rapid growth. About 4,000 firefighters were fighting 22 wildfires across the state on Monday, according to Cal Fire, the state’s fire agency. As evening approached, the Silverado Fire had burned about 7,200 acres and the Blue Ridge Fire 3,000 acres. Later Monday night, the Orange County Fire Authority said that the Blue Ridge Fire had grown to 6,600 acres

Why N.Y.C.’s Economic Recovery May Lag the Rest of the Country’s (NYT) New York, whose diversified economy had fueled unparalleled job growth in recent years, is now facing a bigger challenge in recovering from the pandemic than almost any other major city in the country. More than one million residents are out of work, and the unemployment rate is nearly double the national average. The city had tried to insulate itself from major downturns by shifting from tying its fortunes to the rise and fall of Wall Street. A thriving tech sector, a booming real estate industry and waves of international tourists had helped Broadway, hotels and restaurants prosper. But now, as the virus surges again in the region, tourists are still staying away and any hope that workers would refill the city’s office towers and support its businesses before the end of the year is fading. As a result, New York’s recovery is very likely to be slow and protracted, economists said. “This is an event that struck right at the heart of New York’s comparative advantages,” said Mark Zandi, chief economist for Moody’s Analytics, a Wall Street research firm. “Being globally oriented, being stacked up in skyscrapers and packed together in stadiums: The very thing that made New York New York was undermined by the pandemic, was upended by it.”

Asylum-Seekers Face Violent ICE Coercion (Foreign Policy) U.S. immigration officers have threatened, pepper-sprayed, beaten, and choked asylum-seekers from Cameroon to coerce them to sign their own deportation orders, the Guardian reports. A coalition of advocacy groups, including the Southern Poverty Law Center, filed a complaint earlier this month describing a “pattern of coercion” by ICE agents at a Mississippi detention center that it called “tantamount to torture.” According to multiple accounts in the complaint, immigration officials used the coercive tactics to compel detainees to sign documents that would waive their rights to further immigration hearings. At least one individual was hospitalized as a result. One man, identified by the initials C.A., described how officers broke his fingers as they sought to force his fingerprint onto a document. “Officers grabbed me, forced me on the ground, and pepper-sprayed my eyes. … I was crying, ‘I can’t breathe,’ because they were forcefully on top of me pressing their body weight on top of me. My eyes were so hot. They dragged me outside by both hands,” said the individual, who was prevented from speaking to his lawyer before signing the document. C.A. was placed on a deportation flight on Oct. 13 but was one of two Cameroonians pulled off the plane moments before takeoff, as an investigation had begun into the allegations of abuse. At least 100 asylum-seekers, including many from Cameroon and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, were deported on the same flight. For two consecutive years, the Norwegian Refugee Council has deemed Cameroon the world’s most neglected displacement crisis due to an insurgency in the north and a brutal government crackdown on two English-speaking separatist regions. Since 2016, the two conflicts have killed over 3,000 people and displaced more than 700,000.

Belgium’s former King meets estranged daughter for first time (Reuters) Belgium’s former King Albert has met his daughter Delphine for the first time, after she won a seven-year legal battle to prove that he is her father, earning recognition as a princess. The two met Albert’s wife, Queen Paola, last Sunday at their royal residence, the Belvedere castle, in the Brussels suburb of Laeken, the royal household said on Tuesday. “This Sunday October 25, a new chapter has opened, filled with emotions, calm, understanding and also hope,” the king, the queen and Delphine said in a statement. “Our meeting took place at the Belvedere Castle, a meeting during which each of us was able to express, calmly and with empathy, our feelings and our experiences.” “After the turmoil, the wounds and the suffering, comes the time for forgiveness, healing and reconciliation. This is the path, patient and at times difficult, that we have decided to take resolutely together.” Delphine Boel, 52, a Belgian artist, fought a seven-year legal battle to prove that the former king is her father. After a DNA test confirmed that, a court granted her the title of princess earlier this month. Albert, 86, who abdicated six years ago in favour of his son Philippe, had long contested Boel’s claim.

Germany cautions Thai king (Foreign Policy) Pro-democracy protesters in Thailand marched on the German Embassy in Bangkok to deliver a letter asking German authorities to investigate whether King Maha Vajiralongkorn “has conducted Thai politics using his royal prerogative from German soil or not.” German Foreign Minister Heiko Maas, speaking from Berlin, said the German government was “examining” the issue “and if there are things we feel to be unlawful, then that will have immediate consequences.”

Belarus Opposition Calls General Strike, as Protesters Gird for Long Fight (NYT) When Belarusians took to the streets in the hundreds of thousands in August, after Mr. Lukashenko claimed a re-election victory that was widely seen as fraudulent, many predicted that it was only a matter of days or weeks until the longtime authoritarian leader stepped down. Instead, Mr. Lukashenko and the large swath of the public that is arrayed against him have settled into a drawn-out test of wills, with their country’s future on the line. Protesters continue to turn out in the tens of thousands every Sunday, chanting “Go away!” and waving the white-red-white flag of the opposition. Mr. Lukashenko responds with waves of crackdowns by the police and, backed by Russia, appears determined to wait the protests out. “In such a tense situation, absolutely anything could turn out to be the trigger that topples the system,” said Artyom Shraibman, a Minsk-based nonresident scholar at the Carnegie Moscow Center. “It could end in the course of a week, or it might not die for a year. No revolution has ever gone according to plan.” The authorities’ use of violence to try to put down the protests appears to be escalating, further feeding the anger in Belarusian society. It was a bout of severe police violence early in the uprising that supercharged the protests.

World’s largest IPO shows power of mobile payments in China (Washington Post) Go to a store, hop in a taxi, or even stop by a street peddler’s cart in China, and you will see QR codes strung up on colorful laminated squares. These mobile payment codes are the default way money changes hands in China these days, and the reason Ant Group’s initial public offering is set to be the world’s largest. China’s Ant Group—the Alibaba spinoff behind the ubiquitous blue QR payment codes across the world’s second-largest economy—announced plans on Monday to raise more than $34 billion in a joint listing across Shanghai and Hong Kong. This would trounce last year’s listing of oil titan Saudi Aramco, the reigning IPO champion. Mobile payments have replaced cash and credit cards in China as the preferred payment method, thanks to easy-to-use apps made by Ant Group and its closest rival Tencent. Ant Group’s Alipay and Tencent’s WeChat Pay are similar in spirit to wildly popular U.S. stock trading app Robinhood, in that they are user-friendly enough that anyone with a smartphone and bank account can make complicated financial transactions with a click or swipe.

China sanctions U.S. weapons manufacturers (Foreign Policy) China will impose sanctions on three U.S.-based weapons manufacturers after the U.S. State Department approved the sale of $1.8 billion worth of weapons and equipment to Taiwan last Wednesday. Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesman Zhao Lijian said the sanctions were necessary “in order to uphold national interests.” It’s not yet clear what form the sanctions will take. More sanctions could soon be on the way, as the State Department approved a further $2.37 billion in weapons sales to Taiwan on Monday.

Vietnam evacuating low-lying areas as strong typhoon nears (AP) Vietnam scrambled Tuesday to evacuate more than a million people in its central lowlands as a strong typhoon approached while some regions are still dealing with the aftermath of recent killer floods, state media said. Typhoon Molave is forecast to slam into Vietnam’s south central coast with sustained winds of up to 135 kilometers (84 miles) per hour on Wednesday morning, according to the official Vietnam News Agency. The typhoon left at least 3 people dead and 13 missing and displaced more than 120,000 villagers in the Philippines before blowing toward Vietnam. Prime Minister Nguyen Xuan Phuc ordered provincial authorities late Monday to prepare to evacuate about 1.3 million people in regions lying on the typhoon’s path. Phuc expressed fears that Molave, the latest disturbance to threaten Vietnam this month, could be as deadly as Typhoon Damrey, which battered the country’s central region in 2017 and left more than a hundred people dead.

Vaccines, not spy planes: U.S. misfires in Southeast Asia For months, by Zoom calls and then by jet, Indonesian ministers and officials scoured the world for access to a vaccine for the coronavirus that Southeast Asia’s biggest country is struggling to control. This month, their campaign paid off. Three Chinese companies committed 250 million doses of vaccines to the archipelago of 270 million people. A letter of intent was signed with a UK-based company for another 100 million. Absent from these pledges: the United States. Not only was it not promising any vaccine, but months earlier the United States shocked Indonesian officials by asking to land and refuel its spy planes in the territory, four senior Indonesian officials told Reuters. This would reverse a decades-long policy of strategic neutrality in the country. Washington’s campaign to buttress its influence in the region—part of its escalating global rivalry with China—has been misfiring, say government officials and analysts.

Bomb at seminary in Pakistan kills 8 students, wounds 136 (AP) A powerful bomb blast ripped through an Islamic seminary on the outskirts of the northwest Pakistani city of Peshawar on Tuesday morning, killing at least eight students and wounding 136 others, police and a hospital spokesman said. The bombing happened as a prominent religious scholar during a special class was delivering a lecture about the teachings of Islam at the main hall of the Jamia Zubairia madrassa, said police officer Waqar Azim. The attack comes days after Pakistani intelligence alerted that militants could target public places and important buildings, including seminaries and mosques across Pakistan, including Peshawar.

Hopes for peace in Libya (Foreign Policy) The two main factions in Libya’s civil war agreed to a nationwide cease-fire at U.N.-backed talks in Geneva on Friday. Previous attempts to broker an end to the yearslong conflict have failed, but the new agreement has cautiously raised hopes that it will lay the groundwork for a peace deal. The cease-fire, signed by the Tripoli-based Government of National Accord and Gen. Khalifa Haftar’s Libyan National Army, calls for all front-line forces to return to their bases and all mercenaries and foreign troops to withdraw within three months. The Libyan conflict has drawn in a multitude of international players, including Russia, Turkey, Egypt, and the United Arab Emirates. Their actions in the coming months could make or break the cease-fire.