#captain charming june prompt

[ao3feedbmw]

ABC original shows short prompts

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Fandoms:

The Rookie (TV 2018)

9-1-1 (TV)

Once Upon a Time (TV)

Revenge (TV)

Don't Trust the B---- in Apartment 23

Lost (TV 2004)

Boy Meets World (TV 1993)

Modern Family (TV 2009)

The Baker and the Beauty (TV)

Relationships:

Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen

Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)

Maddie Buckley/Howie "Chimney" Han

John Nolan/Bailey Nune

Luna Grey/Wade Grey

Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Daniel Grayson/Emily Thorne

Chloe/June Colburn

Kate Austen/James "Sawyer" Ford

Shawn Hunter/Angela Moore

Andy Bailey/Haley Dunphy

Daniel Garcia/Noa Hamilton

Characters:

Tamara Colins

Jee-Yun Buckley Han

Prince Charming | David Nolan

Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV)

Language:English

[flslp87]

Captain Charming June Group Prompt- Master Post (Updated - 12:30 EST)

The Prompt - Killian helps David on the Farm

The Challenge - 1000 or under

All participant’s contributions are listed below in alphabetical order.   Read, comment, reblog and enjoy. Thanks to all who participated and thanks @juliakaze for the great aesthetic. 

A Bet, A Hickey and Useful Teen    by @flslp87  

A Little Hard Work is Good For Everyone  by  @ladyciaramiggles  

A Matching Set   by @allyourdarlingswans  

Boys and Their Tools   by @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b  

Captain Charming Group Prompt   by @ashar663  

Farm Hand Hook   by    @hollyethecurious  

Lord Byron and The Jealous Princess     by @charmingturkeysandwich  

Monstrosity   by @hellomommanerd  

Morning Routines    by @snowbellewells  

Pirate on a Plantation    by @ilovemesomekillianjones  

Should have Stuck To Dragons    by @captain-swan-coffee

The Favor    by @whimsicallyenchantedrose

Weekends with Dad   by @krustybunny  

Enjoy and let us know if you have a prompt for next month!

[charmingturkeysandwich]

Lord Byron & The Jealous Princess: A Captain Charming Group Prompt Fic

Good morning, wonderful people! This is my contribution to June’s Captain Charming Group Prompt - Killian and David working on the Charming’s farm. Thanks to @flslp87 for organizing &  @juliakaze for the above aesthetic.

This is very silly. And it’s told from Mary Margaret’s POV. And, yes, Lord Byron is an actual goat. My Nan’s goat, to be more accurate. He’s pictured at the end, just so you can put a face to the name.  Hope you enjoy!

Lord Byron & The Jealous Princess

It was as if Mary Margaret “Snow White” Blanchard Nolan had lived two full lives already, with another just beginning. It was confusing, to say the least, to have been a princess and a bandit, a schoolteacher and a Mayor (however briefly), and now to be settled down as a teacher, mother, wife, and… farmer.

They’d wanted something different when all the chaos was over. They’d wanted to raise Neal to have a life that was as “normal” as possible without forgetting his fairy tale roots. They’d wanted to grow closer as a couple and as a team, to have a quiet home in the country where they could learn what it was like to just be themselves, to just be together.

Funny thing, David was sure growing into a closer team all right. Just not with her.

It turned out that Killian Jones was his preferred life partner on most days. See, Killian didn’t have a classroom full of students all day and Killian didn’t have a baby at home to take care of and Killian hadn’t already heard the story of the sheep that bit a black knight’s ass thirteen times since the last curse alone. So the pirate was excited to hear all the shepherding stories and to learn about all the new growing techniques this world offered and was perfectly happy to slop around in pig crap for several hours because with a busy wife of his own, he didn’t often have much better to do.

So when her cute little yard wasn’t filled with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum cavorting about the property doing all the work that David and Mary Margaret were supposed to do together, her quaint little home was filled with Killian this and Killian that and you wouldn’t believe what Hook and I did today.

(And if anyone found the large wanted poster Emma had photoshopped with Captain Hook at the center fastened to a tree with a few dozen arrows lodged in it, well it certainly couldn’t have been innocent Princess Mary Margaret to blame.)

Every day she’d come home and find the two of them planting things (any excuse to use that thing, Emma would grumble as Killian was plunging his hook into the dirt) or training the new horses or – even worse – her house would be empty, the Power Couple off buying supplies from Tractor Supply a town over.

She enjoyed the time it gave her with her daughter. She did. Emma was spending a lot of time just being with her and for that she was eternally grateful. They were finally finding their way into being both mother-daughter and friends, were bonding in a way that she’d never expected and would never be able to replicate with anyone in the world, even her other child (who just loved his big sister, which, yes, melted her damn heart).

But after sharing David with a kingdom and a town and stupid Princess Abigail, was it so much to ask to just be his right-hand man for once, no life-and-death threat involved?!

Mary Margaret’s revenge came in the form of a goat.

Lord Byron had been owned by some neglectful jerk on the outskirts of Storybrooke who’d landed in town with Hyde (it was pretty obvious why this asshole’s story had been left untold). Killian had struck up a conversation with the man and bartered with him a (fake) magic bean in exchange for the goat the man didn’t care about and then the pirate called Emma to poof them back to the Nolans’ farm and Byron became his best friend in the world (after David, Henry, and Emma, probably in that order).

Byron was a spirited animal, and boy did he love to play. Killian would run with him in the pasture, had even taught him to “high five” him with his horns.

“Come on, Byron! High five, buddy!” Killian would call, and the excited (massive) goat would buck up and tap his horns against Killian’s hand. He’d show the trick to everyone who’d watch – he even had Henry take a video with his “talking phone” and post it to “The Funny Video Site.” He was damn proud of that goat, and David just thought it was adorable.

So one fine Sunday morning after a lovely brunch prepared by Emma and Mary Margaret, the whole family ventured outside for David to show off his budding pumpkin patch. Neal saw the goat trotting along the pasture and called out, “Killy! Killy! High fi!”

Killian couldn’t resist his charming brother-in-law, so they all strolled over to the fence and Killian climbed on over. “Byron! Hey, buddy, how are you?”

They high fived a few times and Neal was clapping like Killian had performed a magic show and just as they were all about to turn and go check on the horses, something got into Byron and he out of nowhere and in no way influenced by fairy tale princess-animal telepathy – “high fived” the pirate.

Right in his ass.

Hard.

Killian fell over and Byron may have slightly stepped on him with his hooves before his best bud David came running, the goat knocking against his hip in a playful yet painful “high five” as well.

Once Henry stopped laughing, he took his uncle for a walk around the property while Emma and Mary Margaret collected their men and retrieved some ice for their bruised bodies (and egos).

And, oddly enough, after that day, Killian only stopped by once or twice a week, helping out with smaller tasks rather than assuming the position of farmer first mate.

The only first mate I need is you, David had said when she finally revealed her jealousy. But there was always left that special twinkle in his eye when his best mate/son-in-law would come visit (only to stay on the outside of the fence, of course).

Check out the rest of the takes on this group prompt by the following friends (I’ll go back and add links to the actual stories once I’m actually awake to read them):

@flslp87 - A Bet, a Hickey, and a Useful Teen @whimsicallyenchantedrose - The Favor   @hellomommanerd - Monstrosity    @ladyciaramiggles - A Little Hard Work is Good for Everyone @ilovemesomekillianjones - Pirate on the Plantation   @allyourdarlingswans - A Matching Set    @laschatzi   @krustybunny  - Weekends with ‘Dad’   @hollyethecurious - Killian Helps David on the Farm   @winterbaby89      @captain-swan-coffee     @laughswaytoomuch   @gingerchangeling     @profoundlyfadedprincess     @ashar663 - CC June Prompt   @spartanguard     @thesschesthair   @ihavelovedthestarstoofondly99   @snowbellewells - Morning Routines @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b  - Boys and Their Tools  @revanmeetra87

Lord Byron thanks you for reading.

[allyourdarlingswans]

A Matching Set

Killian “helps” David on the farm.  A little humor for the Captain Charming June Group Prompt.  Beautiful aesthetic by @juliakaze.

David had been tossing and turning all night.  By four a.m., he couldn’t take it any longer.  He had to know.  Grabbing the walkie-talkie from the nightstand, he crept downstairs.  “Hook, Hook,” he whispered into the device.  “Killian, wake up, this is urgent.”

 “What’s urgent, Dad?” came the sleepy disgruntled voice of his daughter through the speaker.

 “Oh, Emma,” he winced. He hadn’t expected to wake his daughter up.  “Is Killian there?”

 “No,” she mumbled in reply. “He’s usually out sailing at this time.”

 “At this time?  Without his walkie-talkie?” David forgot to keep his voice down and grimaced when he heard Neal whine upstairs.  

 “He likes to get out in the water before the fishing boats do,” she mumbled in reply.

 “And how am I going to reach him?”

 “Um, his cellphone?”

 “But these walkie-talkies are a matching set!”

 David only heard a thud on the other side in reply.

 ***

 David grabbed the walkie-talkie from his back pocket when he heard the telltale static.  “Hook, Hook, is that you?” he asked hopefully as he fumbled with the device.

 “Aye, mate, Emma said you had something urgent you wanted to speak about.”  He paused before adding uncertainly, “And I had to utilize the walking talking device to discuss it with you.”

 “Yes, these are a matching set!”

 “Aye,” he replied in the same uncertain tone.  

 David didn’t think Killian was usually this slow on the uptake but he didn’t have time to deal with the matter now.  There were more pressing issues to discuss.  “Meet me at the vegetable garden.”

 ***

 Killian was already standing by the vegetable garden by the time David had crested the hill with Neal in his arms.  And there it was again!  His son-in-law was giving the Charming vegetables the same disdainful look he had given them yesterday afternoon when David had been proudly showing off his new endeavor.

 “What’s the matter?” David cried out by way of greeting.

 Killian lifted his eyebrow in his father-in-law’s direction.  “What do you mean ‘what’s the matter’?  Did you not summon me here to discuss your urgent matter?”

 “It’s because of you.”

 “It’s because of me?” Killian repeated slowly.  “My apologies, mate, if I have inadvertently caused offense but –”

 “It’s your face that has offended me!”

 “Now, now, Dave, that’s rather rude,” the pirate replied, rocking back on his heels.  “And entirely impossible.  How can my face be offensive? Your daughter thinks-”

 David definitely didn’t want to go there.  “It’s the way that you look at my vegetable garden,” he interrupted.

 And there – there, it was again, that look as Killian side-eyed David’s vegetables like it was dirt beneath his feet.  Which, technically, it was but it was cultivated dirt. “Oh, is that what you would call this?” he asked almost too casually.

 “Well what would you call it, mate?” David bit out the last syllable.

 “A vegetable…patch,” Killian replied, his lips curling into a sneer.

 “A patch?” David looked down at his little plants and carefully ploughed rows of dirt.  It was a beauty in his opinion.

 “Aye, this spot of land is just an afterthought, Dave.”

 “Well, actually, Snow suggested I take a hand at this. She said it was pretty good, she even –”  

 But Killian was on a roll and hadn’t heard his mate.  “I mean, you are trying to grow spring vegetables in the summer season and plants meant for a different climate. What kind of farmer in Maine are you?  Why are your rows so…crooked?”

 “Crooked?”

 “Your soil looks a bit dry. At what hour did you water your plants? Have you seen Happy’s heirloom tomatoes? They are spectacular.”

“Spectacular?”

 “Spectacular,” Killian affirmed. “Everyone has been talking about them.”

 “How do I grow spectacular heirloom tomatoes?”

 “Only one way, mate. Research!”  Killian clapped Dave on the back and lead him to his truck. “To the library!”

 ***

 “These tomatoes are wonderful, Mom,” Emma said as she swiped another from the counter.

 “Oh, honey, you can thank your husband for that.”

 Emma frowned at her mother. “What do you mean?  Between Killian’s sailing trips with Henry and deputy duty, he doesn’t have much time to help on the farm.”

 “Oh, he’s helped plenty,” Snow smiled mysteriously.

 Before Emma could respond, her husband walked in with her father. “Dave, those fava beans are spectacular!  Even Aton will be jealous!”

 “Fava beans?  Who likes fava beans?” Emma murmured, scrunching her nose at the thought.

 Snow swatted at her daughter lightly. “I like fava beans.  Don’t ruin this for me,” she hissed under her breath.

 “And I got this book in the library for you on winter squash,” Killian was saying to David.  “It’s never too early to be prepared.”

 Killian handed his father-in-law another thick volume as he had done the past few weeks while “helping” David on the farm.  He patted his mate on the back before taking a seat next to his amused wife.  “What can I say, love? Your parents are a matching set but I know who I really need to keep happy in the relationship,” he said as he sent a wink to his mother-in-law.

 ***

 @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose   @hellomommanerd    @ladyciaramiggles  @ilovemesomekillianjones    @allyourdarlingswans    @laschatzi   @krustybunny    @winterbaby89    @charmingturkeysandwich    @captain-swan-coffee    @laughswaytoomuch   @gingerchangeling    @profoundlyfadedprincess    @ashar663   @spartanguard   @thesschesthair   @ihavelovedthestarstoofondly99  @snowbellewells  @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b @revanmeetra87 @hollyethecurious

[hollyethecurious]

Farm Hand Hook / June Captain Charming Group Prompt

Prompt: Killian helps David on the farm.  

General audience rating / ~800 words

Thank you to the amazing @juliakaze for making such a wonderful aesthetic for us all to use!!

“You know, Dave, when you said you needed my help out on the farm, this isn’t what I thought you meant,” Killian quipped as he leaned against the barn doorway. “At least let me assist you in lifting those.” 

“How?” Dave questioned. “You’ve only got one hand, and I’ve got your hook.” 

When Killian had received the text early that morning about his father-in-law needing his assistance at the farm he thought the prince meant his help, not his appendage.

Seems Charming’s hay hook had gone missing, and although there were more modern conveniences the man could use to lift and distribute hay, Dave, like Hook himself, found comfort in doing things ‘the old fashioned way’. The way they had back in the Enchanted Forest.

“Fine,” Killian relented, he didn’t want to get into another argument about his resourcefulness in the face of his disability with Emma’s father. “Are there any other chores I can aid you in that wouldn’t require the use of a second hand or hook?”

The prince took a moment to consider his son-in-law’s request, but as each chore scrolled through his mind he couldn’t imagine how Hook would be able to accomplish the tasks one-handed.

“Actually, I’ve got it all covered,” Dave replied. “Why don’t you go back up to the house and have Snow make you some coffee. I’ll bring your hook back as soon as I’m done here.”

Summarily dismissed by his father-in-law, Killian trudged back to the house to wait.

A little over an hour later Charming decided to prep a few things to get ready for his other chores before heading back to the house. Making his way to the coop he was surprised to see that not only had all the eggs been collected, but the chickens had been feed as well.

Hmm. Perhaps Snow decided to feed Hook and had completed that chore for him when she collected the eggs?

With that task done for him, Dave made his way see to the feeding and watering of the livestock, only to find that chore too had already been accomplished. Not only that, but the section of fence that had been damaged days prior was now mended, the horses had been led out to pasture, and the sheep had been corralled, reading for shearing later.

David was dumbfounded.

As he rounded the corner of the barn to head back towards the house he spotted Hook sitting on the back steps scratching Wilby behind the ears. He’d removed his leather jacket and his sleeves were rolled, exposing his empty brace. A sheen of perspiration clung to his face and neck, giving evidence that it was, indeed, his exertions that had freed Dave from a morning of labor.

“What? H-how?” the prince stammered as he stepped closer to the pirate turned farmhand.

“Oh, you’d be amazed at what I can accomplish with only one hand, mate. Just ask Emma…” Killian teased, with raised brows and tongue pressed at the corner of his mouth for emphasis.

“Alright, alright,” Dave waved off. “Don’t push it. Seriously, though. How did you accomplish all that so quickly and without--”

“Dave,” Killian exasperated. “Do you really think any of your agricultural tasks are any more difficult or taxing than those required for a seafaring life? I’ve had centuries to learn ways around this,” he said, holding up his brace. “Snow provided me with a list of tasks, and I completed them.”

“Hook, I’m sorry,” Dave responded, feeling thoroughly admonished for his lack of faith in his son-in-laws abilities. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You can just say thank you, and we’ll leave it at that,” Killian offered as he stood. “Snow has breakfast prepared for us, and since I managed to get you caught up on your morning’s work I thought you might return the favor with a few tasks I’m in need of assistance of on The Roger.”

“Deal,” Charming replied as he followed Hook through the back door. “And Killian,” he offered tentatively, “thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, mate,” Killian replied, a grin pulling as his lips.

“Here,” Dave said as he pulled Killian’s hook from his back pocket. “You’ll probably be wanting this back.”

“Thanks, mate,” Killian acknowledged as he clicked the limb back into place. “Don’t hesitate to ask if you’ve need of it again,” he offered.

“Next time I have need,” Dave countered, “I’ll take the assistance of the man it goes with.”

“Funny,” Killian quipped, with a smirk and raised brows. “Emma said the very same thing to me once, so like your daughter you are…”

“Watch it,” Dave warned, an edge of humor lacing his words. “You wanna lose the other hand?”

“I’d adjust,” Killian shrugged, and then flashed the prince another devious smirk as he added, “You’d be amazed at what I can accomplish with my--?”

“Hook…”

tagging the others: @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @hellomommanerd @ladyciaramiggles @ilovemesomekillianjones @allyourdarlingswans @laschatzi @krustybunny @winterbaby89 @charmingturkeysandwich @captain-swan-coffee @laughswaytoomuch @gingerchangeling @profoundlyfadedprincess @ashar663 @spartanguard @thesschesthair @ihavelovedthestarstoofondly99 @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b @revanmeetra87

[hungrywhovianjedi]

Boys and Their Tools

While at David and Mary Margaret’s, for dinner, David asks Killian for some help with something in the barn. Only there comes a sort of bonding, when it comes to boys, and their tools.

June Captain Charming prompt: Killian helps David on the farm

Tagging @flslp87 thanks for the prompt

Killian left Emma and Mary Margaret, where they were working in the kitchen, after being told to “go find David” he found himself wandering the farm, trying to find the elusive prince.

It was as he neared the barn, that he heard a muffled cursing. Curious, Killian pushed open the door of the big red building, to find David ducked under the raised hood of the tractor parked in the barn. “You alright, then mate?” He called out to his father-in-law.

David glanced up, “Hook, do me a favor, hand me that wrench over there on the bench. The five-eighths.” He instructed, waving to the workbench against the wall. The bench was covered in what seemed like hundreds of wrenches, and they looked practically identical. It was only upon closer inspection, that he noticed a slight variation in the sizes.

“How am I supposed to know which one of these blasted things it is?” Killian asked, as he turned back, holding a small bouquet of wrenches. “They all look the same!”

David sighed, and ducked out from under the hood, a light thump, and a curse, then David was beside him, rubbing his head. “The sizes are cast into the metal” he explained. “right here, this is the one I need” David informed him, plucking a wrench from his hand, then he held it up, displaying a small number cast into the handle. “You’re going to have to learn about these. There will come a day, when Emma’s bug will need fixing” He waved him over. “Here, let me show you what I’m doing.”

Killian moved to his side, glancing down into the engine with David, there were a few tools, and a flashlight resting atop the engine. “What’s wrong with it?” Killian asked. He knew things went wrong with cars, he just didn’t know how they were fixed. Give him a ship any day, over trying to work out these modern contraptions. Though modern was a rather relative term, when you looked at the ancient beast they were working on. The machine could have been as old as he was, with the level of rust on its spotty yellow hide.

“About a week ago, it started misfiring, and this morning, I couldn’t get it to fire at all. Starter was shot, then when I got it running, then I noticed a leak in my fuel line. Right now, I’m just trying to replace the damaged line” David reached into the tractor’s engine with the wrench. The prince grunted, as he wiggled the wrench into a tight spot within the engine, and began to work a bolt Killian couldn’t see.

“Hey, Killian, can you shine some light in there? I can’t see a damn thing.” David requested, as he cursed at the engine.

Grabbing hold of the flashlight he saw earlier, Killian found the correct angle, and peered down into the engine, as David worked. He wouldn’t lie, and say that the mass of metal, with bits of rubber tubbing and grease made any sense to him, but it seemed to make sense to David. The prince gave a small cry of victory, and pried out a twisted bit of hollow tubing, and tossed it aside. Then he looked back to Killian. “Can you hand me that line there, so I can get it put in, then we can take this baby for a spin.”

Killian looked around a bit, before he spotted the shiny black piece of rubber on the bench with the wrenches. He fetched it for David, he tried to hand it to the prince, who took it and began situating it in the gap left by the old fuel line. “Get in here, I need you, to hold this up, while I secure it in place.” He instructed, Killian reached in and held up the tubing, and tried not to get annoyed, when David adjusted where his hand was, and set to work, securing the tube in place. “Can you shine the light back in here?”

Killian rolled his eyes. “I only got, one hand, Dave.” He informed his father-in-law.

David gave an annoyed huff. “Right, forgot for a minute… Hold on.” he situated slightly, so a bit more light from the open door came in. He then leaned back in, and began securing the tubing into place before he pulled back. “That should do it… Hook?”

Killian looked at him, “Aye?”

David smirked. “You want to take it for a spin?”

~~CC~~

Emma looked up from the sink. “Where are they?” She pondered, noting that it had been some time, since they had seen or heard from the boys.

Mary Margaret, turned, placing the casserole she had just pulled from the oven onto to the cupboard. “Probably in the barn, your father was working on that old broken tractor.”

Emma, “I’m going to go find them. It’s just about time for supper, anyway.” She said.

“Make sure they was up, this casserole, does not  go well with engine grease!” Her mother called after her, as Emma stepped out into the yard.

It wasn’t hard to spot her husband and father, as Killian was currently being chased by her father, as he drove a tractor, directly into the corn field.

[snowbellewells]

“Morning Routines”

Here is my entry for the Captain Charming June Group Prompt!  Hope you enjoy! :)

(Killian asks a favor of his mate, then finds a way to make himself useful...)

“Morning Routines”

By: snowbellewells

        “Are you kidding me right now?” David Nolan asked with equal measures of exasperation and resigned humor.  “What am I supposed to do with that?”  He’d come out of the barn on he and Snow’s new farm property, where he had already been tossing hay down for the single milk cow and several sheep though the sun had barely crested the morning horizon.  Swiping his forearm across his already sweating forehead, he gave his son-in-law an expectant look, making it clear he actually wanted an answer.

           To be fair, Killian Jones looked more than a little sheepish as he stood in the barnyard, eyes trained down on the wet, squirming ball of grey-striped fur in his hand and reaching up to scratch nervously behind his ear – a dead giveaway that he was embarrassed or caught in subterfuge. Emma had caught onto it by now, but he snatched his hand back to his side quickly, hoping his already annoyed mate hadn’t.  “Well, they are good for catching vermin, are they not?” he tried tentatively.

           To his relief, a bit of a smile began to quirk one side of the Prince’s mouth, despite the sterner look he had clearly been trying to hold.  Stepping forward, the shepherd turned ruler sighed good naturedly.  “Oh, come on then,” he gestured for Killian to hand the small, shivering kitten over for examination.  “Let’s get a look at this fearsome mouser of yours.”

           Letting out a snort of surprised laughter, Killian gently passed the bit of fluff over, unable to resist scratching it behind the ear once more as his mate cradled the wee thing to his chest.  “Do I even want to know how it got so wet? Or why it isn’t living at your house?”

           The former pirate – big softie that he had proven to be, despite his previously infamous villain persona – shook his head at his own weakness, knowing he couldn’t help taking in strays and that all of his new family was beginning to figure him out.  Blowing out a breath, he told David with a bit of a chuckle, “Well, it would seem the little bugger got caught out in the rain last night.  He was on the back stoop crying pathetic little mews when I got up this morning to put the coffee on and start breakfast.  As to why he is not staying at our abode…your lovely daughter might have ruled that two cats already were more than enough.”

           Now Dave eyed him all too knowingly for Killian to be quite comfortable with, elbowing him in the side gently as he walked by, and clearly expecting the other man to follow.

           Killian trailed his best mate up the steps of the cozy farmhouse and into the kitchen where Snow sat at the table, dressed for her day at school and finishing up feeding the young prince his breakfast.  The moment she laid eyes on the tiny feline in her husband’s arms, she began to coo over it and offered it a saucer of milk.  Smirking to himself, the pirate bit his tongue and didn’t mention not being the only one who was subject to his wife’s wishes, and glad of it.  The kitten clearly had a home now, and he knew well enough when not to press his luck.

***CC******CC******CC***

           Some months went by before the whole episode came up again. Once more, Killian was at his in-laws’ farm early in the day, as he had taken to doing a couple of days a week when he wasn’t needed as deputy at the station. Though the barnyard and farmyard were far from being a ship on the open sea, he liked the fresh air and the clear expanse of field and sky.  Modern life and paved streets could sometimes be a bit hectic and crowded; though he would never regret choosing it in order to be with his love, the country outside of town made for a soothing escape.

           This particular morning, Snow had already left for school, David had all of the animals fed, and was taking a breather before moving on to the next task on his day’s list.  He was also watching (and surreptitiously recording video with his phone to send to his daughter) in genuine amusement as his friend and son-in-law entertained both Neal and the stray cat he had brought to the farm that morning months ago.

           Shaking his head slightly in wonder, the prince watched the nearly unbelievable sight of a “retired” pirate sitting on a short, three-legged stool in his barn, milking his old cow as adeptly as if he had been born to it. It was another one of many things David would have assumed to be overly difficult for a man with only one hand, until he met Killian Jones. Chuckling, he continued observing almost forgotten as Killian expertly aimed a stream of milk into the mouth of the cat sitting expectantly nearby, much to the clapping, enthusiastic delight of his own toddler.

           “Again Killian! Do it again!” Neal squealed in excitement.  Weirdly mesmerized, the former shepherd still marveled at how calm and unperturbed the cow was by the whole thing, not even turning to look as the other man smoothed the cool metal curve of his hook over her flank, whispering to her occasionally in a soothing lilt to which she lightly flicked her tail but didn’t even bother to turn her head and look.  His other hand managed to send the milk either into his pail or to the cat, as without fail as an old pro.

           Hitting “send” David awaited his daughter’s response and went to resume the chores with a smile.  It was helpful to have the milking handled, even if the manner of it was unconventional.  Then again, looking at the rest of the life they’d all led, had he really expected to run an ordinary farm?

Tagging the rest of the participants:  @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @hellomommanerd @ladyciaramiggles @ilovemesomekillianjones @allyourdarlingswans @laschatzi @krustybunny @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @charmingturkeysandwich @captain-swan-coffee @laughswaytoomuch @gingerchangeling @profoundlyfadedprincess @ashar663 @spartanguard @thesschesthair @ihavelovedthestarstoofondly99 @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b @revanmeetra87 

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Captain Charming June Prompt

Here is my story for the June Captain Charming prompt:  Killian helps David on the farm.  

Thank you to @juliakaze for the above graphic!

Tagging the other Captain Charming authors.   @whimsicallyenchantedrose   @hellomommanerd    @ladyciaramiggles  @ilovemesomekillianjones    @allyourdarlingswans    @laschatzi   @krustybunny    @hollyethecurious   @winterbaby89    @charmingturkeysandwich    @captain-swan-coffee    @laughswaytoomuch   @gingerchangeling    @profoundlyfadedprincess    @ashar663   @spartanguard    @thesschesthair   @ihavelovedthestarstoofondly99  @snowbellewells  @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b   @revanmeetra87

Check out everyone else’s take on the prompt here.

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

The Favor

Killian scrunched his nose as he dug the pitchfork into the muck in the horse’s stall, and then tossed it into the wheelbarrow.  This farming was hot, physical, odoriferous work.  Why the blazes had he ever agreed to Dave’s favor?  Next time he found himself in a pinch, he’d face the consequences on his own.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

One week before

Killian peered into the washing machine in dismay.  What the bloody hell had gone amiss?  Where should have sat a load full of clean, pristine white clothing was a mess of pinks and reds.  After sifting through, Killian found the culprit.  A brand new pair of Emma’s red unmentionables had found its way in the otherwise white load.

“Bloody hell,” Killian muttered to himself.

She’d warned him about this. “Killian, you have to sort the laundry before you wash it.  Separate the whites from the colors.  If you don’t, the colors will bleed and ruin the whites.”

He’d waved her off, assuring her that he’d been washing his clothing for a couple of centuries before she’d been alive, but it was clear she wasn’t convinced, sure this “washing machine” would do him in.

And so it had.

As Killian picked gingerly through the wet, soiled clothing, he groaned.  Nearly every one of Swan’s mini corsets and a fair number of her skivvies were destroyed.

But as frustrating as that was, the worst by far was her favorite cream-colored sweater.  (Well, her formerly cream-colored sweater.  Now it was a distressing splotchy shade of pink.)  Emma was going to kill him.  It was her favorite sweater, one she told him was as comfortable as a warm hug, one she’d be happy to wear every day if she could.

And now he’d destroyed it. She simply couldn’t find out what he’d done.  There was only one thing to do.  He must call in reinforcements.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“Killian, this is far more than I’d ever want to see of my daughter’s underwear,” David said, gingerly picking up a red-tinged bra, “particularly a pair that looks like my daughter had been stabbed in the chest.”

“It’ll be me who’s stabbed in the chest if I don’t find a way to fix this,” Killian said.  “After all, you Charmings do rather enjoy sticking a blade through my ribs.”

“Are you ever going to let me live that down?” David asked. “I was cursed.”

“If you help me avoid my wife’s ire,” Killian said, “I’ll forget it ever happened.”

David looked over the various items of clothing scattered throughout the laundry room.  “Have you tried re-washing them?”

Killian rolled his eyes. “I’m not entirely daft, Dave.  Of bloody course I tried washing them.  I ran them through the laundering machine three more times, but as you can see, to no avail.”

“Maybe if we try bleach…”

“Maybe, but the label maintains that bleach is not to be used on this fabric lest it yellow,” Killian said.  “I think perhaps we best not risk it.”

“I suppose we could ask Snow…”

“No!”  Killian insisted.  “Should we alert your lovely wife to my predicament, she’ll tell Emma.”

David was silent for another moment and then gave Killian a hesitant look.  “I have an idea, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“Aye,” Killian said warily, “and just what might this idea be?”

“Magic.”

“All well and good, mate,” Killian said, “but neither one of us is endowed with magic and Regina is on vacation in the Land Without Magic.”

“But…” David said, even more hesitantly, “Gold’s still here.”

Killian had, of course, thought going to Gold was a terrifically bad idea.  He’d rather chop off his remaining hand than parade his wife’s ruined unmentionables before the crocodile.

And that’s how it happened.

“I mean, I suppose I could take these things to Gold for you,” David said, clearly reluctant, “but if I do, you owe me one.  You owe me a BIG one.”

“If you can restore my wife’s clothing to its former glory without her learning of my mishap, I will complete any favor you so choose.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

This morning Prince bloody Charming had cashed in on his favor.

“Killian I’m in a huge bind,” David said just after dawn.  “You know we got Jack Horner to be our farm hand, but he’s sick today. Something about eating a bad plum in a pie.  Anyway, if I’m going to get all the farm chores done, I need help.”

“I’m sorry, Dave, but I’m no farmer,” Killian said, “I’m a man of the sea.”

“Yeah, well, you’re also a man who owes a favor,” David said.

Killian had sighed, but finally agreed to the task at hand…if only he’d known ahead of time he would spend his morning shoveling horse droppings from their stall.  A man had his dignity, after all.

He shoveled the last bit of muck into the wheelbarrow, and then stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow.

This task was nearly at an end, but the gods only knew what Dave would have instore for him next.

As though summoned by Killian’s thoughts alone, the prince himself stepped into the barn, looked around and clapped Killian on the back.

“Looks great in here, Hook,” he said.  “Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“I’m pleased it meets with your approval.”

“It does.”

David started to walk away, but then turned back toward his son-in-law.  “Look, I know you’re only doing this because of that favor you owed, but I wanted to thank you.  Really. It’s great to know I have a friend who’s got my back, who’ll help out in a pinch when needed.  And I hope you know you can always count on me to.”

“Of course,” Killian said, touched in spite of himself.  “We’re family now.”

[kiki-ciara-blog]

Captain Charming June Prompt - A little hard work is good for everyone

Rating - T    AO3

Killian slips out of the Charming’s rustic kitchen and steps into the late morning sunshine, content to leave Snow and Emma chatting away at the table, mugs of coffee in hand. Shielding his eyes from the sunlight, he scours the farmyard for any sign of his father-in-law. Hearing a bark from the barn opposite, Killian heads in that direction. At the sound of his approaching footsteps, Wilby bounds over to him from the doorway, wagging and panting, eager to see who might be coming to visit.

'Hey Wilby, come and say hello, good lad'.

Killian bends down and ruffles the shaggy scruff at Wilby’s neck with his hook, as the dog sits at his feet, raising a paw in supplication every time Killian tries to stand up and move away, his tail thumping off the ground in delight. Having made a enough of a fuss of him to eventually be allowed past, Killian heads into the byre and finds David loading a wheelbarrow with a shovel and several saplings each around a foot high.

‘Morning 'Dad'’ he teases.

‘Hook’, David replies a grin plastered across his face. ‘You decided to leave the ladies to it then?’

‘Aye that I did. I thought they would appreciate a little mother daughter time, and to be honest I wasn’t contributing much to the conversation anyway. Would you like a hand with that?’

‘Well if you're offering then sure, that’d be great’’ David replies, tossing another shovel in Killian's direction. ‘I'm setting these along the edge of the driveway, Snow is keen to have a tree lined canopy up to the farm, with pink and white blossom in the spring. And what my good wife desires’

‘The lady shall have.’ Killian finishes. He looks over the saplings that are being piled high into the barrow with a smirk. ‘So anything magical about these baby trees that I should be aware of? Are we going to have some nefarious villain fighting us as we try to plant them?’

‘Nope, just good old fashioned cherry trees mate. Safe to say I think we’ve seen the end of magical plants in Storybrooke for now. No True Love Saplings or beanstalks to be found on this farm’.

Killian nods, and both he and Wilby follow David as he pushes the barrow out of the barn, across the farmyard and along the driveway towards the main road. Every few metres David stops and places a cherry tree down, trying to space them out as evenly as he can.  When he’s satisfied with the positions, he moves to the first tree and starts digging a hole for it. Killian follows suit, a few metres up the lane, using his hook to angle the shovel while he lifts with his other hand. Wilby sets himself down in the shade of the barrow, clearly intent on supervising the activities.

The two men work alongside each other in companionable silence for most of the time. Occasionally sharing news of Storybrooke residents (mostly Grumpy and his unwavering ability to interrupt with news of impending doom at the worst possible moment) and adding a grunt or grumble here and there as they start to build up a sweat. Wilby wanders back towards the farmhouse after a while, making sure the other human members of his pack are keeping out of trouble. Together Killian and David methodically plant the trees one by one, digging, planting, filling and tamping the earth back down as they move back up the driveway towards the farmhouse. The sun shines brighter above them, beating down on their backs as midday approaches.

When he’d left home with Emma this morning, Killian hadn’t expected to be engaged in anything more strenuous than sharing a lunchtime beer with his family on the back porch, and so really wasn’t dressed for the task at hand, with his customary black vest over a dark floral shirt. David on the other hand had started off the day in a loose blue t-shirt which was starting to cling to his skin more and more with every spadeful of dirt he shoveled, his biceps glistening with perspiration.

Before long Killian strips away his vest, hanging it over the handles of the barrow; rolls up his sleeves and unfastens the remaining buttons of his shirt.  A breeze rolls towards them and he sighs as it cools the moisture trickling through his chest hair. Stretching before continuing with the task at hand, he wipes the sweat from his brow with his tanned forearm and then picks up the shovel again.

Some time later a bark from Wilby on the porch draws their attention, and both men look up to see Snow and Emma giggling whilst watching them closely having brought a tray of what appears to be orange juice out from the kitchen.

‘What do you think those two are laughing at?’ David asks nodding over towards the ladies.

‘I don’t know mate, probably admiring the view of us in all our masculine glory’

‘What do you say, should we give them something more to smile about before we head back for refreshments?’  David winks and then pulls his now damp t-shirt off over his head, revealing his lean, muscular body glistening with sweat. Glancing over to the farmhouse, he sees Snow’s eyes open a little wider at the sight.

Catching his meaning, Killian follows suit slowly removing his own shirt, the muscles in his back and shoulders rippling as he bends to pick up his shovel before tossing it and his discarded shirt into the wheelbarrow. Looking up at Emma, he notices her mouth open slightly as her chest rises in a small gasp. He smirks across at David who is chuckling to himself at the reaction they have provoked from their wives.

On the porch both women share a knowing look and break into another fit of giggles as their husbands stride purposefully towards them, an exaggerated swagger in their gait and their shoulders tensed to accentuate their muscles.

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

Pirate on the Plantation

Okay, let’s try this again. As usual when scheduling a post, I fucked up. You’d thing me technologically unsound with all the times I’ve messed up a post, really I’m not. Tumblr just continues to best me from time to time. Anyhow here is my submission for the Captain Charming June Prompt, some of you have read it already, since I posted a day early. I deleted that post as soon as it was pointed out to me that I posted a day early... apologies!!! Thank you to those that liked, commented, and reblogged, I did get a chance to see them before I deleted the post ♥

Rated K ~  Words 1k ~ Captain Charming June Prompt ~ Killian helps David on the farm ~ Amazing Aesthetic by @juliakaze ~ Unbeta’d ~ See links below!!

                                Pirate on the Plantation

“Come on, mate. When’s the last time you, Henry, and I took the Jolly out for a day of sailing and fishing?” Killian asked David over the phone.

“I know, I know. It’s just... A farm doesn’t run itself, you know. I have a a ton to do every morning, and by the time I’m done, I’m beat. It won’t last forever, eventually I’ll get used to the work.”

“What could be so hard about feeding farm animals and tending some vegetables, Dave. Sounds like an excuse to me. Afraid to get sea sick again?” Killian teased.

“It was one time,” David growled. “When was the last time you ran a farm? I doubt you could handle it.”

“Oh, I bet you I could. Tell you what, make those famous nutmeg pancakes of yours, and the family and I will be over bright and early. Have your list of chores ready for me, and when I’m done we go sailing. If I don’t finish, I won’t bug you anymore.

“Deal,” David agreed, it got him a free morning whether they went sailing after or not. I’m sleeping in tomorrow, David thought rubbing his hands together.

                                       ~Captain 💪 Charming~

When Killian’s alarm went off at 5:30AM he realized he’d become a bit lazy, and spoiled. At one time this would’ve been considered getting up late, and now his body was protesting the early hour. There was no way he was losing this bet though. He reluctantly got out of bed, stretched, then roused Emma. “C’mon love, time to head to your parents.”

“Uh-uh, you made this bet. Henry and I will be over later,” she mumbled sleepily. “Love you, babe, but it’s way too early for pancakes and parents.

He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her forehead, “I suppose you’re right, Swan. Love you, and I will see you at a more decent hour.”

Killian arrived at the Charming home at six sharp and was about to knock when he saw a note taped to the door. His eyes narrowed as he read the note detailing that the household was still asleep, pancakes were in the fridge if he was hungry, and to wake them if he finished before they were up. The to-do list was extensive, but he was sure it would not keep him from the open waters. He chuckled upon seeing the closing to the note:

Good luck, but seriously, maybe we can go sailing again once I get used to this schedule, because there is no way you’ll finish, and want to go today.

“Challenge accepted,” Killian mumbled to the crisp morning air. As he set about the tasks in the order they appeared on the list he realized, one, he had not dressed appropriately, and two, this shit was a hell of a lot harder than he’d fathomed.

When he saw Emma and Henry pull up he reached into his pocket for his phone to see what time it was. Damn! It was already after eight, and he’d only just hit the halfway point of the list.  How long did it take to till a ten by twenty plot he wondered. Looking at the marked area he reckoned it wouldn’t take too long.

“How about a cup of coffee?” Emma asked from behind him as he assessed the plot.

“Thanks, love,” he smiled, taking the hot beverage. Wiping at his brow he sipped the coffee only to realize just how dissatisfying it was. He needed ice cold water.

“Too strong?” Emma asked, seeing his hesitation to drink more.

“No, it’s just not what I need right now. I think I’ll grab a cold water.”

“Don’t you dare step foot in mom’s house, she will kill you if you track dirt and chicken shit onto her carpet. I’ll get it,” she told him, taking the mug and kissing him on the cheek. She wrinkled her nose, “You smell like farm animal.”

Killian laughed heartily, “Not as good as sea salt, leather, and rum then?”

Emma didn’t even bother responding since they both knew she loved his normal scent, instead she just rolled her eyes and went to get him a small cooler of bottled waters.

When he finally finished tilling the plot he was unsure of the time, but he knew it’d taken him longer than he expected. His hands, already calloused from his years at sea taking care of the beloved Jolly, ached something fierce from the task. He looked at his list once more and chuckled, he’d be done within the hour now, and then they’d be out on the water. ��Heading to the storage shed to put away the tiller and shovel, he sat down in the shade to enjoy one of the bottle waters Emma had brought him.   

                                      ~Captain 💪 Charming~                                      

David’s loud guffaw woke Killian. “Not as easy as it looks, is it Deputy Jones?”

“A pirate, in skinny jeans, farming, now I’ve seen it all,” Mary Margaret snickered.

Killian looked up at his family to see his parents-in-law open amusement, while Henry seemed torn between concern and amusement, and Emma had her hand over her mouth, no doubt trying to stifle her laughter.

“What bloody time is it,” he asked, realizing he’d fallen asleep against the side of the shed.

“It’s time to go sailing,” Henry announced.

“Well, son, it seems I have not upheld my end of the bargain. I did not finish all the chores so I must get back to work,” Killian told Henry.

“We finished the chores and got everything ready while you were getting your beauty rest,” David teased. “Come on, let’s get out on the water.

“Perhaps the next time we decide to set sail we will tackle the farm as a team to begin with? I didn’t realize how much work it was,” Killian offered.

“Sounds like a plan,” David answered slapping a hand on his son-in-law’s back.

The family was on the water within the hour enjoying a relaxing afternoon of fishing, sunbathing, and swimming.

                                       ~Captain 💪 Charming~

 Check out other Captain Charming June Prompt stories by the following authors:  

@whimsicallyenchantedrose - The Favor  

@flslp87 - A Bet, A Hickey, and a Useful Teen 

@hellomommanerd  - Monstrosity  

@ladyciaramiggles - A Little Hard Work is Good for Everyone 

@allyourdarlingswans - A Matching Set   

 @hollyethecurious - Farm Hand Hook 

@charmingturkeysandwich - Lord Byron & The Jealous Princess   

@ashar663 - CC June Prompt   

@snowbellewells - Morning Routines 

@hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b - Boys and Their Tools

@captain-swan-coffee - Should Have Stuck to Dragons

@krustybunny - Weekends With Dad

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Lucky charm [Bucky Barnes x Reader] - Requested

Title: Lucky charm Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Word count: 3k Published: 19 June 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Notes: 1940s Bucky and I'm lowkey proud of this fic ^^ Warnings: Mention of dinner, alcohol Summary: When you first meet Bucky, you only see a man drooling over woman, running after anyone with a skirt. But he captures you immediately and you can’t find it in you to reason with yourself. Before his mission you decide to give him a ‘lucky charm’ hoping for his successful return. Inspired: [x] by a title ask I have received from @nuttytani Request: [x] Prompts requested by @nuttytani for my celebration event.

Bucky Barnes x Reader Fluff #4 - “Did… did you just kiss me?” Fluff #11 - "Your bed hair is really adorable.” Fluff #12 - "Aw, you’re blushing.”

Marvel Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

Battle of Swords; 2.9k followers and 1st anniversary celebration event

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

It was a chilly late evening as you walked across London's streets with Peggy Carter on your side, heading to Whip and Fiddle. You had better things to do then to chase some American superhero, but after hours of convincing from Peggy, you finally gave in. As an independent agent currently working with the British Forces in England, it was now your duty to follow Agent Carter around as though you were her lapdog. You liked the woman, you had nothing against helping her, but you hated useless missions and you especially despised following orders that made no sense to you. Agent Carter was a highly respected member of the Strategic Scientific Reserve with more than enough training to be able to protect herself. Still, you walked beside her on that chilly evening, following her diligently towards a pub you didn't even want to go near, to meet some superhero you didn't even care about.

"Could you keep sighing any louder?" She chuckled lightly, knowing how much you hated following people around.

"I understand how important your presence is, but I did not sign up to be a babysitter. No offence," you exhaled sharply, feeling useless in your situation.

"None taken," she smiled sweetly. "I understand how frustrating it can be, but if you are stuck with me, you could very well lighten up a bit," she winked, trying to lift your mood.

"We are heading to a pub full of drunk people who will stare at us as though we were their prey. I can't seem to understand why any of that should make me lighten up," you scoffed as you adjusted the gun tucked into the band of your skirt behind your back.

"I'm not saying you have to have fun, but think of today as a well-deserved vacation," she tried again, earning a deadpan look from you.

"This is most certainly the farthest possible option from a vacation I'd envision," you huffed as Peggy stepped into the bar, her head held high, attracting people's attention. As you looked around, you had to wander if instead of a pub, you might have missed the direction and stepped into a zoo. Men were shamelessly drooling over Peggy as she walked across the little room, hips swaying in her crimson red dress as she headed towards another adjoining room. Rolling your eyes, you followed her, trying to listen to the sound of your own high heels, hoping it would avert your growing anger from the animals hiding in human bodies.

"Captain," you heard her voice calling for the superhero, a flirtatious tone behind her words. You could barely swallow the chuckle that threatened to erupt from your lungs. Peggy was anything but subtle about her interest in the man.

"Agent Carter," he replied, his tone holding confidence. You stepped inside the adjourning room, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed in front of your chest as you caught sight of the Captain with a slight blush across his cheeks, his eyes awkwardly studying every inch of the Agent, the confidence in his voice barely reflecting his nervous state. If it wasn't for your training, you would have missed it. The Captain could have seemed confident to a simple bystander, he could have fooled anyone, but to you, the way he fidgeted with his hands under his sleeve, the frequent, long bobbing of his Adam's apple and the tiny sweat drops on his forehead gave him away. The man was more than interested in Peggy.

But you couldn't hear the rest of their conversation, nor did you care as you already knew about their mission. Your attention however was more occupied when you caught sight of the man beside the superhero, his broad shoulders and confident stance projecting power. For a second you thought you liked what you saw, but that was only until you realised his eyes hungrily running over the Agent's figure, shamelessly staring at her curves. You imitated a gagging sound, more to yourself than for anyone to see.

"I see your top squad is prepping for duty," Peggy spoke up, referring to the drunken team members across the pub, but her eyes stayed intensely attached to the Captain.

"You don't like music?" The other man cut in before Rogers could reply, his eyes almost undressing Peggy.

"I do actually," she replied, her gaze never leaving the Captain's as though they were the only ones in the room. "I might— when this is all over— go dancing," she added suggestively, hoping Rogers would understand her indications. But before he could have said anything, the other man once again interrupted them.

"Then what are we waiting for?" He asked, clearly not understanding Peggy's interest in the Captain. You found it both humorous and somewhat pathetic.

"The right partner," she replied, her gaze watching the superhero with an inviting gaze, her words causing a loud fit of laughter to erupt from your lungs, this time having no time to stop it. All three heads turned to you with a questioning look as you tried to hide your laughter behind your palm.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt the show, please feel free to continue," you snickered as you removed an escaped drop of tear from the corner of your eyes, your vision slightly blurred. It took you a good few seconds to calm down, but as you finally regained yourself and lifted your gaze, in that instance, you felt the air get knocked out of your chest as you caught the other man's mischievous blue eyes. A charming grin started spreading across his face, turning into a rather cocky smile.

"Where have you been hiding this pretty little thing?" He asked his friend, but his eyes never left yours. With slow steps he headed in your direction, his smirk growing wider, hypnotising you. You have seen a few too many good-looking people throughout your career, but as you stood in front of the Captain's friend, you had to admit, he was possibly the most handsome man you have ever met. He stopped right in front of you, barely leaving any gap between you as he sneaked his fingers around your hand. "If you don't mind, I would like to introduce myself. James Buchanan Barnes," he spoke as he hinted a small kiss on the back of your hand, his eyes attached to yours, watching every single tiny movement you could have made. "But you can call me Bucky," he smirked.

"James it is then," you added with a tiny smile in the corner of your lips as you introduced yourself as well, earning a deep chuckle from Bucky.

"What a beautiful name. I have a feeling we will get along just fine," he replied even more confidently than before, gently squeezing your hand that he was still holding onto. "Would you like to drink something? I would be honoured to get to know you better," he held his hand out towards the bar, as though he was offering you anything you could ever ask for. But the playful little glint in his eyes reminded you to be cautious. You knew the type of man he was, running after anyone with a skirt.

"If I didn't think you were a gentleman, I'd believe your intentions are anything but pure and innocent," you raised a questioning brow.

"For you I would become a priest," he replied as he licked across his lower lip, his cocky smirk never faltering.

"And how many times have you used that line before?" You asked, squinting suspiciously.

"It's the first time," he nodded proudly.

"I'm inclined to believe you have offered to become various things to various women," you bit on your bottom lip playfully, his intense gaze burning your cheeks as his eyes wandered to your lips.

"But never a priest," he wiggled his brows playfully, earning a loud chuckle from you as you shook your head.

"Unfortunately, we have to leave," Peggy added with a small smile.

"You forced me to come with you and told me to have fun and when I finally enjoy myself, you want to drag me away?" You asked with a mischievous smile as you took a quick glance at the woman, before you focused your attention on Bucky again. "Well, unfortunately she is right. We have to take care of a couple of other things, before your briefing tomorrow," you added as you watched his eyes grow wider.

"Agent?" Peggy called for you, Bucky's head whipping around in a swift motion.

"Agent?" He asked, stunned as he turned back to you. "Will you be at the meeting?" He asked as he finally started to process your title.

"Wouldn't miss it," you smiled, pulling your hand out of his hold and walked out of the bar with Peggy on your side, without even glancing back at the mischievous man.

"James, huh?" Peggy offered you a knowing look, earning a scoff from you.

"Hey, I'm not planning on marrying him, but he is certainly good to look at," you shrugged, trying to hide your smile and regain your usually strict features, but you found it rather difficult.

"I didn't say anything," she replied after a moment of silence as she studied your face, a small smile growing across her pretty face.

"Stop staring at me, Agent," you said, but she didn't seem to care about your 'polite' request, she just kept smiling to herself, which left you groaning.

As the next morning arrived, the meeting room of the headquarters filled up with people. There were soldiers, sergeants, agents, captains, and everyone that basically mattered and had anything to do with the upcoming mission. It was rather packed, and you didn't want to take a seat between the two generals who had a spitting problem, so instead you leaned against the wall and waited for some of the missing members to arrive whilst studying your notes.

Reading through some of the key orders in your notebook, you lost yourself in planning some tactics. Your mind was so occupied when a man decided to stand beside you, inch by inch reducing the proximity.

"Morning," you heard a deep voice and immediately looked up, meeting Bucky's eyes. He wore a lazy, lopsided smile, his hair a mess, his eyes seemingly too tired to stay open.

"Aw, long night?" You asked, smirking at the man as a low growl left his lungs.

"Don't even. I can't even remember how much I drank. I'm surprised I didn't wake up in a hospital," he huffed, earning a chuckle from you. "I feel like shit," he scoffed as he closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. "Sorry about the language," he quickly apologised for his swearing.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, your bed hair is really adorable," you smirked up at him as his eyes shot open, meeting your twinkling gaze. "Oh my, you're blushing," you snickered at the faint pink colour covering his cheeks.

"Adorable?" He asked with a questioningly arched brow. "That is not something a man likes to hear," he pouted, his face contorting in a grimace, but if anything, his childish sulking was even cuter.

"Men and their big ego," you heaved a heavy sigh as you turned back to your notes, the corner of your mouth curving into a tiny smile as you scribbled down some ideas. But Bucky wasn't done yet.

"It's not that it's a bad word, but a man wants to feel handsome, masculine, and sexy. If you said my bed hair was sexy, I would have liked it more," he offered you a challenging gaze as though he wanted you to repeat his words, but you weren't about to give in.

"Barnes, is it?" You asked, though you knew his name already, you couldn't have forgotten. "A second before I complimented you, you said you felt like shit and I could have gone and said you looked like actual shit, but I was being kind. So, if I were you, I would just accept the compliment and put a lock on my mouth," you offered him a faux smile and turned back to your notes.

"Feisty," he chuckled at your monologue. Leaning down to you, his lips caressed the shell of your ear, making you shiver. "I like that," he said with a smug grin across his face as he pulled away, making you roll your eyes and let out an annoyed sigh. But you couldn't stop the tiny little butterflies from appearing in the pit of your stomach, nor could you halt your heart from starting off at a heavy pace and your cheeks feeling warmer.

Without any further comment from either of you, the meeting has begun, your complete attention focusing on all the details you dotted down. You could have sworn Bucky's eyes fell on you repeatedly, but you ignored his gaze and forced yourself to listen to every word the generals discussed, trying to ignore the distraction Bucky's presence beside you caused.

The meeting finished fairly quickly and after most of the attendees left the room, you decided to head to your office, Bucky trailing behind you in a healthy distance.

"Can I help you," you asked as you turned around to face him, his steps halting. He wore a wide smirk as his eyes met yours, but no words left his lips, not even a sound. "Well, that is helpful," you scoffed as you turned around and continued your way to your office.

As soon as you arrived, you left the door open and sat down behind your desk, rearranging some of your documents. Bucky entered the room as well, not even waiting for an invitation. He knew you left the door open for him, he didn't debate that.

"Are you planning on speaking, or do you find enjoyment in staring at me?" you raised a brow questioningly, earning a half-scoff, half-laugh from him.

"Actually, I do enjoy looking at you," he shrugged nonchalantly. "It's a beautiful view."

"Oh, please, has that line ever worked?" You laughed as you shook your head.

"Never tried before, but from your expression, it seems it is," he wiggled his brows playfully, before he took a seat in the chair across your table. "Regardless of my shameful staring, I did have a question for you," he added, making you frown.

"Okay, what would that be?" You asked as you leaned forward and propped your elbows on the table, placing your chin in your palm as you waited for him to speak.

"I was wondering—," he started, but paused momentarily, "if you'd let me take you out for dinner," he said, his eyes watching you intently, for a moment even making you forget your own name.

"Erm—," you cleared your throat as you looked at the watch on your wrist. "Don't you have a mission to attend to in about 5 hours from now?" You asked.

"After the mission, of course," he chuckled playfully, though you could see his nerves, the way he fidgeted with his fingers, regardless of how confident he showed himself to be.

"You are going to have to return first," you offered him a playful smile, though deep down you didn't even want to think of a scenario where he didn't return.

"I will, if you say yes," he gave you a questioning look.

"That's not very fair," you chuckled at his silliness.

"I never said I play fair," he bit on his lower lip, impatiently waiting for an answer.

"Fine, but you better prepare your pocket, I like my food," you said, earning a wholehearted laughter from him.

"I will keep that in mind," he replied, his gaze lost in yours, for a moment just enjoying your presence beside him. Your heartbeat pulsed in your ears, your palms felt sweaty. You wanted to say something, but before you could, he quickly cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "I should go," a nervous chuckle left his lungs as he stood up from your table and headed towards the exit. A part of you wanted to stop him and tell him to return safely, whilst the other felt too proud to move or even let out a sound.

But your pride quickly got shoved to the back of your mind as your legs moved on their own. Standing up from your table, you quickly closed the distance between you and grabbed his wrist, turning him around. A shocked expression sat across his face, but you didn't wait for him to steady himself. Standing on your tiptoes, you cupped his face and pressed your lips against his. He gasped into the kiss, but he quickly collected himself, his arms sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer as he enjoyed the feel of your soft lips against his chapped ones, the warm and slow touch you offered him, your thumbs caressing his cheeks as his fingers drew small circles on your lower back.

As you parted, his cheeks were painted in a darker shade of pink, his lips falling open, shock clearly written across his face. "Did... did you just kiss me?" He asked as his small, but proud smile grew wider.

"Well, I'm not sure what you call it in America, but in England, yes, it is called a kiss," you snickered.

"Why?" He questioned, stunned, his arms still wrapped around you as your hands rested on his chest. He didn't want to let you go, he didn't want to go back to reality. But you didn't mind. You had to admit, it was too comfortable to get lost in his arms, enjoying his strong hold around you.

"Take it as a lucky charm so you can return in one piece," you giggled, slightly nervous about your boldness, but his increasing grin made your nerves settle.

"There's nothing that can stop me from coming back," he said, his smile radiating positivity, making your cheeks flush. He leaned down and pecked your lips, only for a moment, before he pulled back.

"Good," you replied as he let go of you, but reached for your hand to kiss the back of it, his eyes still connected to yours, keeping your attention only to himself. "Good luck," you breathed softly, earning a playful wink from him, before he turned around and left you in your office, giggling to yourself as though you were a child once again.

Notes: If you enjoyed reading this little piece, please don’t forget to leave a like, comment and/or reblog. Your opinion matters and gives us motivation. Thank you ^^

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

Taglists are in reblog from now on. Send me a message if you would like to be added :)

[flslp87]

Captain Charming June Prompt is “Killian Helps David on the Farm’ 

Words ~ 1000 words. 

My contribution       Aesthetic by @juliakaze

A Bet, A Hickey, and A Useful Teen

Killian knocked on the farmhouse door, thoroughly disgruntled that he had lost a wager!  Who knew Wasabi sauce was so hot?  Besides any good seaman knew that sushi didn't require additives to make it tasty.  In the future, he would check the facts before allowing the prince to best him.

Dave opened the door and called, "Hook, good morning," jovially as he walked outside.  "Ready to work?"

"Aye, lead the way," Killian followed his father-in-law down the stairs.

They rounded the house and walked into the barn where David pulled an old pair of denim overalls off a hook, "Here, you might need these. Wouldn't want your leather to get dirty." Killian gave him a look that said over my dead body, "Suit yourself, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"I'll be fine." He followed Dave deeper into the confines of the barn.  "Just let me know what needs to be done."

David led them toward a stall where a beautiful, jet black Thoroughbred stood, easily measuring seventeen hands.  "Lovely animal," Killian held his hand out toward the horse's snout.  

The horse whinnied and backed up a few steps until David held out a carrot and the horse settled and nibbled away.  "He needs his stall mucked out, fresh hay and water and brushed but don't forget his carrots.  You do and you'll get nothing done as he won't let you touch him. He's been known to take a nip and might go after that one good hand of yours."

Killian gave him a side-eyed look and followed him to the other side of the barn where a black and white spotted milk cow stood. "Well, hello there love." He bowed slightly in her direction.

David patted the cow on her rump, "This is Bessy.  There's the pail for her milk," he pointed to a shiny bucket and stool off to the side.  "Now don't squeeze her teats too hard or she will move and the milk will end up on you."

Killian stared at the harmless looking cow, "I've not had any complaints about my teat handling before."  David gave him a rather disgruntled look and Killian smirked, "Well, I haven't."

Their next stop was the chicken coop. "Here you have to reach gently under their feather coats and remove the eggs.  They are fragile so be careful, but watch those three," he pointed to the ones sitting at the end of the row, "they are nasty if you are too slow. I've come away with bloody hands a time or two."

"No problem Dave. I've a quick hand for finding what I need under a coat." He winked and strolled out of the coop.

David then led him to the pig pen where the young ones were rolling in the mud, while the larger ones rested in water puddles.  "Now when you walk in there to give them fresh water and food, be sure to wear those boots," he pointed to some old mud caked ones standing in the corner. "And be careful because that mud is slippery and you will end up flat on your back."

"Oh, don't worry Dave. I do enjoy being flat on my back but in the mud in a pigpen, alone,” he hesitated, “No thanks."

Dave just ignored him and led the way to the last pen, this one holding four playful pygmy goats. "Now these guys you definitely will want to be careful around.  They like to be scratched on the hindquarters and if you are not watchful, you will end up with holes in your pants, or shirt or jacket, whatever they can reach."

Killian was watching the cute little things tackling and chasing each other around their pens.  Harmless looking surely. "You've no need to worry. Just do what you need to do and I will see that all these chores are completed."

"No questions?" Killian shook his head no.  David pulled his keys from his pocket, "Good. While you are taking care of this, I'm going to go get some hay."

"We'll be fine." As soon as David had climbed in his truck and driven off, Killian walked around the other side of the house where Henry was sitting with his headphones in, "Your turn.  You need to take care of the horse, the cow, the chickens, the pigs and the goats.  Do you have any questions?"

Henry thought about it, "Nah, how hard can it be?  I'm cool." He took off toward the barn.

Killian helped himself to a glass of iced tea and sat on the porch idly scratching Wilby’s back with his hook.

~~~

David drove up to the barn a few hours later and unloaded the hay, stacking it neatly in the barn when Henry walked up looking a mess, "Henry, what happened?"

Henry pointed at the mud, "Pigs." his bloody right hand, "Hens," his left hand, "Horse," the holes in his shirt and rip in the seat of his pants, "Goat, " and his messed-up hair, "Cow. Any more questions?"

David snickered at his grandson's unhappy expression, "Why are you covering Hook's bet?"

Henry pulled aside the collar of his shirt revealing a dark red mark, "He covered for me with mom," was all he said before walking off.

Dave found Hook sitting on the porch with Wilby, "Henry, really?"

Killian grinned at him, "Teens are quite useful.  You wanted the horse stall cleaned."

"True."

"The cow milked and the eggs gathered."

"Agreed."

"The goats and pigs fed."

"Yes."

"This way your chores are done and I'm a hero in his eyes." Killian grinned at him. "Drink?" He held up his glass.

"You do have a quick tongue, Hook.  What did Emma say when you told her you were bringing Henry?" David opened the door for them to enter the house.

"She said, "male bonding." He smirked at his father-in-law, "And she agrees with you."

"On?" David asked.

"That I have a quick tongue." He snickered as the door shut behind them.

~fin

Here’s the link for the Master Post.  Read and Enjoy. 

[charmingturkeysandwich]

If anyone wanted to see the "high-five" from my Captain Charming story. Here it is! 

(Byron is a sweetheart) (The asshole who didn't want him is not) (No clue why they named him Byron btw) (We also got a pig from them... aptly named DAVID)

[thunder-at-dawn]

June 3rd

i really liked writing this one!! it ended up being way longer than i thought it would though lol

word count: 2,563 (jesus christ)

prompt: gang tickles

character: eret

warning: this is a sfw tickle fic! don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable :]

Attachments.

No matter if it was toward a person, place, or a noun, people always developed attachments to certain things.

Eret had always found themselves getting attached to things in life. They became attached to the pet sheep they had found roaming around the museum. They had been attached to L’Manburg at one point, it was their first real home. They were attached to Puffy, Foolish, and other friends they had met.

But right now, at this very moment? Eret was growing an attachment to...a couch.

There was a sectional couch in the library of the castle. It was red, made of velvet material, and in Eret’s words, “a really fucking nice couch.” It could easily fit six people, maybe seven or eight if people squeezed together. There was also an ottoman where, if rolled into the right spot, could make a larger space on the sectional that resembled a mattress. Eret had been laying across this couch for a while, reading a fantasy novel that they had found while browsing through the shelves of the library. Their crown was placed on a table nearby, as they didn’t feel the need to wear it at the moment. They looked up when they heard the sound of the door opening, wondering who was currently visiting.

“Foolish!” Eret sat up, happy to see their old friend. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Eret.” Foolish waved, and the king was quick to notice that he wasn’t filled with his normal, bubbly charm. The god walked over to his friend, leaning over and resting his arms on the sectional’s armrest. “So, uh...I have something to say. And you might not like it.”

Eret blinked in surprise, placing a bookmark in their book and gently closing it. “Okay? What is it?” They asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Well, um...You know how you told me that you didn’t want to tell anyone details about your past until we figured out more stuff about it?”

“...Yes?”

“I...” Foolish hid his face with his hands. “I accidentally let some stuff slip in conversation. When I was talking to...um, Puffy.”

Eret could feel their heart skip a beat in their chest, but they kept their composure. “...Okay...did you tell anyone other than Puffy?” They asked.

The god let out a groan of frustration, sitting down next to Eret on the couch. “No, I didn’t, but I accidentally brought up how we were reading together a while ago, and she was like “oh, what book were you guys reading?” and I didn’t want to lie, and I got put on the spot, so I told her about the wither cult, and I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean for it to happen, and-“

“Oh, thank god.”

“Wait, what?”

“When you said that you told someone, with how nervous you looked, I thought you were talking about like, Dream, or someone else untrustworthy like that.” Eret let out a sigh of relief, placing a hand on their chest.

“Wait, so you aren’t mad?” Foolish asked.

“No, of course not! Accidents happen.” They shrugged. “And honestly, Puffy was the first person I planned to tell after we figured this all out. So, if anything, you actually did me a favor.”

“Really?! Whew, that’s a relief!” Foolish could feel his muscles untense as he also let out a heavy sigh, leaning back into the couch. “I thought you were gonna be so pissed off at me!”

Eret laughed softly. “Foolish, when have I ever been known to be upset in front of you?” They asked. They weren’t an easy person to provoke, it was pretty rare for them to lose their cool.

“You’re right, you’re right.” He nodded, aware of how Eret had never really gotten angry in front of him in all of the months he had been in this land. “You’re not easy to anger. However, back in the day, you would get a little bit intense when you were angry.”

“Really?” Eret looked over to their friend with curious eyes. “How so?”

Before Foolish could begin to explain, they were both distracted by the door of the library swinging open. A familiar face approached, closing the door behind themselves.

“So, someone told me that you used to be quite the warrior. And you don’t remember, so I’d like to see if I can help out with that.” The sheep hybrid greeted, pulling down her sunglasses and sending the two a wink.

“Apparently, I was a warrior!” Eret chuckled, waving to Puffy.

“Puffy, hey! Come sit down with us!” Foolish said excitedly, tapping on the free couch seat next to him.

“In a second!” Puffy made a beeline to the bookshelves, skimming through the words on the spine of each book. “What was the name of the book you guys were reading again?”

“The history of withers, I’m pretty sure!” Foolish nodded.

“Right...author name?”

“Umm...last name started with an H, I think?”

“...Hodgman?”

“Yep, I think so!”

“Careful, it’s quite heavy.” Eret warned her, but was surprised to see that Puffy was easily able to hold onto it, with seemingly no struggle. She walked over to the other two, sitting to the side of Eret so that they were in the middle.

She looked at her son and grinned softly. “This is his first time on the couch, isn’t it?”

“This is such a nice couch!” Foolish said as he sunk deeper into his seat, much to Eret and Puffy’s amusement. “How come I’ve never sat on this before?!”

“It’s your fault for not exploring the wonders of my castle enough.” Eret joked as Puffy placed the book in their lap so that all three of them could easily access it.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Foolish rolled his eyes, sitting up to get a closer look at the reading.

The three of them sat together on the couch for a very long time, investigating more of the book that Foolish and Eret had read previously. Foolish would often have to help transcribe words in ancient languages that the other two didn’t understand, and Puffy would often need context and explanation for quite a few things, but still tried to help as best as she could. They would laugh at Foolish’s stupid jokes and share exchanges in between their research, still finding fun. However, after a while, they found it to be draining.

“Okay, how much have we accomplished in the past two hours?”

“What? Foolish, there’s no way we’ve been at this for two hours.”

“Actually, we have.” Puffy nodded, checking the watch on her wrist. “We should probably take a break.”

“I’m down for that.” Foolish was quick to go limp and sink back into the couch.

“Mhm...” Eret nodded, looking out of the castle windows. It was golden hour, and the sun was setting over the horizon, leaving a beautiful, golden gleam to leak through the windows and into the library.

“You tired?” Puffy asked them.

“Not really tired, just drained.” Eret nodded as they turned towards the sheep hybrid.

“I can tell, you look tense.” She said before gently grabbing them by the shoulders and moving them so their back faced her. “Here, let me help.” After observing no signs of discomfort, Puffy started to gently massage Eret’s shoulders.

“Thank you, Puffy.” Eret smiled, leaning back into Puffy a bit as she massaged them.

“It’s no problem.” Puffy smiled back, continuing to lightly rub at Eret’s shoulders. The three of them sat in a peaceful silence, all of them illuminated by the golden glow of the sunset. Man, this was nice. Eret found themselves relaxing quite a bit...but not for long. Puffy lightly pressed her fingers against Eret’s shoulderblades, and they let out a squeak of surprise before quickly covering their mouth.

“Woah- are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Puffy asked, quickly letting go when Foolish sat up, curious to see what was happening.

“What? No, you didn’t do anything. I’m fine, Puffy.” Eret said, trying to throw what had just occurred under the rug. They noticed Foolish staring out of the corner of their eye, knowing damn well that he had noticed.

Foolish blinked, continuing to stare, before a smile appeared on his face. “Ooooh, right. Puffy. I have known Eret far longer than you have, and there’s something about them you might not know yet.”

“Hm?” Puffy looked up curiously.

Eret immediately knew what Foolish was referring too. “J-Just ignore him, Puffy.” They said to her.

Foolish smirked, now fully sitting up and moving closer to them both. “See, even if Eret doesn’t remember the past, what I do know is that they have stayed pretty similar to their old ways, including their strengths...and their weaknesses.”

“Like what?” Puffy asked, now intrigued with what Foolish had been saying.

“The truth...is that Eret...”

“Foolish, don’t tell her.”

“Is very...”

“Foolish.”

“Very...”

“Don’t you dare.”

Foolish paused, a wide grin on his face, amused by the situation. Eret leaned back, but couldn’t do much with Puffy sitting near him. He didn’t necessarily mind this, but it was a bit embarrassing.

“...Ticklish!” He finally commenced, leaning over and digging into Eret’s underarms. The monarch let out a surprised yell, quick to erupt into laughter.

“Yohohou AHAHASSHOHOLE!” They yelled, squirming around as they were laid across Puffy’s lap.

“Aww!” Puffy laughed a bit herself as she watched the scene unfolding in front of her, ruffling their hair.

“DohOHOn’t lahahaugh! Ihihit’s nohoHOt fuhuhunny, Puhuhuffy!”

“Then how come you’re laughing so much, Eret?” Foolish asked, grinning happily.

“Shuhuhut uhuhup!” Eret snapped back through their laughter.

“Wait, wait, stop, I want to try something.” Puffy said suddenly. Foolish drew his hands away, letting Eret catch their breath. After a few moments, Puffy scooped her arms underneath Eret, and after a bit of struggle, managed to pick them up.

“Woah, wahait!” Eret yelped in surprise, clinging onto Puffy as them was lifted off of the couch. The captain smirked, lightly tossing Eret onto the other side of the couch. The ottoman was pulled in currently, so there was more space for them to move around if needed. Puffy was quick to sit down next to him, lying him down.

“So, Foolish. Overall, how ticklish do you think Eret is on a scale of one to ten?” Puffy asked her son.

“From one to ten? Hmm...” Foolish paused to think. “It can vary, depending on the spot but...I’d say an eight! Maybe even a nine!”

“A nine?!” Eret repeated, the now mischievous look on Puffy’s face filling them with a bit of nervousness. “Absolutely not, I am a seven at the most.”

“Well, with conflicting answers, I guess I’ll have to find out for myself!” Puffy said, slowly closing in on her friend before digging right into the hallows of their underarms, just as Foolish had done before.

“NohOHOHO- waHAhaihit!” Eret yelped, squirming around on the couch and holding onto Puffy’s wrists.

“Man, I remember when we were at a party this one time, and you were a bit tipsy, and you nearly fell over and I grabbed your waist to catch you. And you started laughing and, I dunno, I just had this strange feeling that it wasn’t from the alcohol! So I squeezed at your sides again, and you started laughing more, and I put two and two together.” Foolish laughed a bit himself, thinking about the memory.

“Their sides, you say?” Puffy’s eyebrow raised up curiously.

“Yeah, just like this!” Foolish quickly leaned down and grabbed onto Eret’s sides, a shriek emitting from their mouth. He squeezed and pinched at the area, sending the monarchy into a squirming, giggling mess.

“SHIHIHIT- GUHUYS!” They laughed, attempting to bat both pairs of hands away.

“I also remember you being quite a sneaky gal, but you can’t try and sneak your way out of this one!” Foolish said, finding as much enjoyment out of this as Puffy was.

“Yeah, you’re definitely past a seven.” Puffy declared. “Just like Foolish said, you’re an eight, possibly a nine.”

Foolish quickly stopped with one hand, using it to cover his mouth as he quickly whispered something to Puffy. The two of them nodded before Foolish went back in with his free hand, and Eret continued to laugh. They were squirming around a lot less now, probably getting a bit tired out. The other two slowed down, giving Eret time to breathe.

“Alright...” Foolish said quietly, looking at Puffy, then looking back down at Eret. “Three... two... one... NOW!” At the god’s signal, they both dug their hands into Eret’s ribcage, Foolish tackling the upper ribs while Puffy got the lower ones. Another shriek tore out from the monarch’s mouth.

“FUHUHUCK- HAHAHAHA!! WAHAHAIT-“ Eret threw their head back, attempting to squirm and defend themselves with their hands, but they were simply too tired to do so.

“Oh, forget what I said earlier, you are absolutely a ten.” Puffy said with a smirk.

“I agree! Ten all the way!” Foolish nodded in agreement.

“I’M NOHOHOT A TEHEHEHEN-” Eret cackled, a small hiccup escaping from their mouth.

The two of them continued the attack, before Foolish drew away, and signaled for Puffy to do the same. “Alright, I don’t wanna actually kill them.” He chuckled a bit.

Eret was still a giggling mess, even after the two of them had stopped. The golden light from the sunset reflected on their glasses as they reached a hand up behind them to wipe a tear from their eye. Readjusting the glasses, they let out a sigh. “You guys are both jerks.” They said lightheartedly before giggling again.

“Aww, but we’re your favorite jerks, aren’t we?” Foolish asked, moving and sitting down next to Eret’s head.

“Yeah, sure.” They rolled their eyes.

“The king of the SMP called me a jerk. That’s something to cross off of my bucket list.” Puffy said out loud, making the other two laugh, and she too, laughed along with them. Eret finally sat up, and their two friends readjusted to sit next to them.

“We’re not sorry for wrecking you into another millennium...but, we hope you can forgive us anyway.” Foolish said as he ruffled Eret’s hair.

Eret couldn’t help but smile at their old friend’s antics. “I forgive you both, but don’t think I’m not going to get you both back soon.” They said, fixing up the mess Foolish had made.

“That’s fair.” Puffy leaned into Eret. The king laughed softly, putting an arm around each of their friends.

Eret suddenly remembered that they had something that they wanted to say. “Oh, and Foolish?”

“Yeah?” Foolish turned his head.

“...Thanks for fucking up earlier and accidentally telling Puffy about the Wither Cult.” They smiled. Puffy laughed at the statement, grinning wildly as well. Foolish snickered lightly, and now all three of them were happily smiling.

“It’s no problem, old pal.” Foolish said with a sincere smile.

Eret looked out of the window. Golden hour was starting to come to an end, and the golden gleam from the windows was starting to fade.

They had made a new memory today.

It was moments like these that they had to cherish. Fun times to be had with friends. Between the stress of all of the wars, rivalries, and new nations rising up, it was definitely important. And as Eret sat with their friends in a peaceful silence, they knew that this something they needed.

[purplerose244]

It was always you

Hello everyone!! 😊

I’m a bit late but I really wanted to contribute to the @lukadrien-june event, I hope this is okay! Based on the third prompt, while throwing in some character study for sunshine boy! 💛

Enjoy!! 😙😙

Summary: Love was supposed to be easy, at least in his head. A pure perfect fairy tale... except it was not. Adrien takes probably more time to realize it than other people but he is getting there. Especially not alone.

Read it on the AO3 here

If there was one thing that Adrien wished he had known, before giving up homeschooling once and for all and finally starting to build a life, was that loving wasn’t nearly as simple and dreamlike as his extremely well-developed imagination had led him to believe. He truly wished that he could borrow Bunnix’ Miraculous sometimes, just to head back to that room where he used to spend his entire time on his own dreaming of himself and his soulmate and getting married at sight, and tell him that if living was hard outside, heart matters were even harder.

Love wasn’t that ideal, it wasn’t reductive.

It wasn’t nearly that basic either. It took him a while, but he had figured it out.

It had all started with Ladybug of course, most of his new experiences in the real world had started with her. He had fallen in love with her pretty much two days after meeting her… granted, being stuck into his own house for years thinking of himself as a poor prince in waiting of a savior rather than a knight out to get the princess, might had developed in him a bit of an eagerness for romance. She was smart, beautiful, courageous, resourceful and a hero, what was there not to love? Besides they were Chat Noir and Ladybug, they were meant to be… because… that was Ladybug. The moment he had realized how much he loved that image – if he used to fantasize before looked at him now –, and how he had started to slowly care less and less about knowing what was hiding behind it, that was the dealbreaker. He didn’t want to be in love with a figure, an icon for Paris, because it was what all people had always reduced him to. It would have not been a good way to start, and it would have not been fair for her either.

Getting over all those dreams about the marriage, the children and the hamster – oh the hamster, heart stay still – that he had wished for so intensely had been… easy? Not exactly, but smooth. A strong emptiness and pain that had slowly faded away with time. After all, Ladybug was never going to be far from him, and she cared about him a lot, he knew that much. He could love her, no matter what, no matter in what way.

After that singular and very one-sided experience, a spectacular sequence of disasters had made him slowly and steadily feel aware of how much messier the concept of relationships really was. One thing was dodging Chloe’s overly affectionate tendencies or his fans’ intense assaults over him; the other realizing that Kagami was ready to commit into something he wasn’t sure of, that Lila was still somehow convinced that he wanted something to do with her after all of her lies – for a fox this sly she sure was in denial… why did that sound hypocrite? –, and that Marinette had apparently harbored feelings for him almost as soon as they had met – oh yeah that was why. Life, a real, multifaced, worth living life was chaotic and confusing, it hurt, and it saddened, and he was behind everyone, struggling like mad to catch up.

Rejecting so many people he cared about had been awful. Some of his closest friends, all important parts of his life in different ways, and all because he wasn’t smart enough to understand feelings and his own clearly weren’t right. When Marinette had smiled at him with tears in her eyes, saying that it was okay and that she understood, Adrien had decided that it was enough. He wasn’t going to attempt anything else, if it always ended up with hurting someone he cared about.

He could deal with his feelings on his own, he always did, without paining anyone. There was no problem anyway, after Ladybug no one had ever shaken his heart.

No one, no one at all… and during that time, between slowly realizing that perhaps looking for wedding rings after two days sounded a little unreasonable and somehow managing to hate his face plastered all over Paris even more than before, the Music Festival had occurred, along with the awakening of Captain Hardrock. The famous tripping over the bridge had happened, a goofiness that had somehow gotten him into a band.

Him had happened. The charming, kind, intriguing guitarist of the Liberty, that had welcomed him the moment he had been there.

Luka Coffaine.

… Adrien was starting to hate his heart a little bit.

Luckily or unluckily, around that time he had found himself too caught up in his and other people’s messes to even realize how he had always unconsciously smiled at the boy whenever he was there, and how it had become normal for him to stay with him after band practice, without caring on how father could had reacted to his delay – just how dense was he about his feelings… never mind. It took Lila to finally focus on something other than plotting, Chloe to start paying attention to her own life instead of worsening others, and Marinette and Kagami to begin exchange sweet looks for him to finally find some normality to think – and develop an extremely intense fanboy soul.

Enough to realize that ever since Desperada, with the brilliant introduction of Viperion to the team, Adrien had found himself as Luka’s confidant, the only one besides Ladybug aware of his secret identity. Exciting stories, confessions, insecurities, all while the guitarist was making such an effort to communicate with words, because he trusted him enough not to judge his mind.

And Adrien was enjoying the confidence, the vicinity. A lot. Truly a lot.

… way too much for it to be normal.

It had woken him at night. He had teared up in his bed, curled on one side while Plagg had been purring next to his ear all night. It was the first time that being in love had felt this terrifying. He didn’t want to mess everything up, not again, not with Luka. The freedom he felt with being on the Liberty, the time spent with his friends in the band, the warming welcome he had always received from captain Anarka and Juleka – and by extension Rose, those two always came in pair –, and every single moment spent without having to care about who he was and what did he represent because Luka didn’t care about covers, he cared about the real music coming from people. Everything could disappear in a moment.

With that set of mind, he had spent some of the most tense moments of his life, constantly pondering about what to do next. What exactly was a person supposed to do if he liked another without making a mess? What was the alternative to confess his undying love and hope to plan a wedding at the end of his studies? Was there an alternative??

His anxious attitude had inevitably gotten the attention of his group of friends, that for some miracle hadn’t gotten tired of his denseness, especially Marinette. She hadn’t seemed to care much, especially not while distractively holding the amulet Kagami had made for her – somehow love life had made the fencer even deadlier during practice, like she was fighting was someone, impressive. It had taken them to bribe him with a new recipe of croissants from the Dupain-Cheng bakery to be forced to talk, a necessity that had exploded out of his lips the moment his friends had been gathered on Marinette’s bed to listen. The sweets had been amazing. Just a bit salty… but that was probably because he hadn’t been able to talk without tearing up all over the food.

At the end of the discussion, Marinette had squeaked so loudly his ears had started to ring.

“You have to confess and get together, you two would be a great couple!” To which he had responded that he didn’t want to risk it, especially since he didn’t know how it was going to end.

Alya had slammed her hands over her own knees – ouch –, standing up.

“You have to man up! Don’t think about what could happen, go for it and make him yours!” To which he had said that he didn’t want to be insensitive again in case it didn’t go well – also that that kind of wording was a little confusing, enough to turn him bright red.

Then Nino had looked up from his phone, looking a little baffled. He had changed too, considering that love matters used to make him all nervous.

“Why don’t you ask him out first and see how it goes from there? You don’t have to become boyfriends if it feels too soon.” The table had gone silent, all eyes were on the DJ, who simply arched an eyebrow. “… you do know you can go on a date with someone, realize that it’s not working without actually get together, right?” More silence had followed. Adrien was sure that he had felt a weird mixture of disappointment and relief, while Marinette had looked so very shocked.

In conclusion, Nino was amazing. Like that was new.

Starting from there the blonde had been practicing in front of the mirror every day, terrified of rejection but less tense over how things could go. Despite fans and admirers his past relationships, if those could be called, weren’t giving him much of a booster or a good feeling about how this chance was going to play. Somehow it hardly mattered. Luka was a very reasonable person, he was going to reject him very nicely. It had been almost uplifting the idea of the guitarist treating him with absolute kindness, even while shattering all of his dreams.

One day Luka had called him over for an improv session. It happened often, this artist was extremely instinctive when it came to music, and he had told him that having a more rational and accurate player like Adrien around grounded him to his usual style. It was flattering every time he was called for that same reason, it was an occasion that made the blonde ignore all about his current schedule – of course he was at fencing right now, Kagami could cover- uhm, confirm for him –, to finally focus on something that he really wanted to do. Luka was always waiting over the bed of his room, playing a few notes, stopping for minutes then going again. It was calming and endearing, like Adrien was allowed to hear the inside of his mind.

He had been standing there, legs crossed at the end of the bed while Luka was lying down with the instrument. There had been only sounds for all of this time, without additions or suggestions or anything. It was nice. Really nice. Adrien had wondered what else could he discover out of him just by stay close like this, and how much he wanted to. The need to let those words out had been steadily growing without him realizing it.

“Luka?” Until they were out. “Do you wanna go on a date with me?” Mirror practice had helped, it had come out almost mechanically. There was a spark into his stomach, the adrenaline pouring out. The melody in the air had stopped for a pretty terrifying second.

Then it had come back as a full, real song. It was timid, sweet, and sincere.

“I’d love to.” In his own giddiness, Adrien could admit of being wrong. Yet he was almost sure he had seen the calm and controlled guitarist blush the tiniest little bit.

A single date at the restaurant where Alya’s mother worked at without people in the way – he loved his friends so much – had followed another one walking hand in hand through Rue Montorgueil in disguise – at last he had achieved his long-lasting dream of looking like someone else without the mask –, that had followed another one at a secret party Chloe had organized at Le Grand Paris for her classmates – she had given him such a smirk at seeing his plus one, gossip was coming. It had nothing to do with the dates of his daydreams, the ones he had lived through his head for years: every single time his stomach was so tense it felt like it was burning, painfully, making him question if he really wanted this. Then, the moment they were there talking, engaging themselves into an interesting topic while letting time pleasantly leave them behind, the stress was gone and there were only the two of them.

They had gone like this for months. Some absolutely lovely months. At some point Alya, stopping him at school, had calmly stated that him and Luka combined with Marinette and Kagami were making her feel single, and she had a boyfriend, so it was probably time to make it official. He had agreed with her, of course he had. He liked Luka… yeah right, he loved him. Everything with him felt so real, so close and intense, like he was finally living.

His feelings weren’t the problem… Luka’s were.

Not that he doubted him. Not after all the little orange blossoms left over his keyboard before band practice – they meant eternal love, oh heart stay still once again –, the songs sung for him whenever he felt upset or angry at his father, or the hand kisses at the end of every single date, like he was being cherished every single time. One of the guitarist’s biggest qualities was his sincerity, Adrien was absolutely sure he could trust him and his heart. Just how he had never blamed anyone before, not Chloe, not Kagami, not Marinette, not even Lila, for their feelings towards him.

They had been real, like his own feelings for Ladybug used to be… but they were for Adrien only, the supermodel, Paris’ iconic pretty face and perfect boy. That perfection in him, one he had been forced to practice in order to please his father, that was attracted others, but it wasn’t in any way all that was in him.

What was all the rest? It was also there. But it came out only whenever he wore the mask.

With time, the image he had been forced to wear for the profit of his father had grown into an uncomfortable, old sweater that he hadn’t known it had felt unbelievably itchy until he got the possibility to take it off, to try something else. And that black-leather armor was his absolute favorite. Nothing felt like freedom as that, nothing felt like him as those moments, whenever he jumped into the sky holding hard onto his staff. Thanks to his Miraculous he had discovered himself. Thanks to that he had found out that he liked making jokes, he loved puns, he liked making a fool of himself for the sake to have fun. He liked risking, he liked dancing, he wasn’t too keen on closed places, and he absolutely loved how the moon reflected into the Seine at night after patrol. Everything was him, so vividly him it made him choke a little at the mere thought of it.

Adrien Agreste was another mask, one he was growing considerably tired to wear. He had been through some love experiences now, even though they did not end quite well: there was no point into pretending to be someone he wasn’t, there was no meaning into hiding himself when he truly wanted to establish a bond with someone. He had known this, he knew this.

But if everyone liked Adrien better… if Luka liked Adrien better, how was he supposed to do that?

The tension coming from those thoughts was there only when he wasn’t around his favorite guitarist, making him at least forget about the dilemma coming with. Even so, around those times he had found himself at least wondering exactly what kind of opinion his date had about Chat Noir. He wasn’t sure, they had never talked much in their superhero personas, because of the urge of the moment and because with his lady’s strategic mind and a power like Second Chance it was unfairly easy sometimes to solve the situation – Ladybug needed to start bringing Viperion more often and yes, maybe just a little bit to see more of Luka in sexy snake cosplay. He was fairly sure he didn’t mind him, he seemed to even smile at him sometimes – total heart eyes –, but he wanted to be sure.

It had been night at the Liberty, they had ordered pizza. Sugary drinks made Rose giggle like mad, so Juleka had brought her to her room to take a nap and probably cuddle, leaving the two of them alone. That wasn’t weird. Wondering if the guy Adrien was dating liked his cat counterpart, that was weird. At the end, looking at how relaxed the boy over the sofa was while distractively bending the last pizza crust, he hadn’t been able to do pose a potentially confusing question, asking instead what he thought about Ladybug – he had made a mental post-it to whine loudly into his pillow later.

Luka had brought up stuff he already knew, how she was a great leader, an inspiration, extremely smart and courageous. Despite the failure of questioning him Adrien had smiled, he was weirdly happy they thought the same about his partner.

“She has a huge responsibility and deals with it incredibly, that’s commendable… with that being said, my favorite is Chat Noir.” A boom inside. “He’s hot.” A second, bigger explosion had occurred into Adrien’s head – in a feeble spark of lucidity he had begged his brain not to produce smoke out of his ears. Luka had laughed, playing some more, without looking directly at him. “And he’s such a selfless, reliable person, you can tell from how he doesn’t hesitate to help others or support me or Ladybug. He’s incredibly loyal, and… really funny.”

It had taken perhaps a second too long, in which a thousand of tiny little Adrien running all over his brain had been screaming out loud hysterically about how this handsome guitarist was a Chat Noir fan, and it had been the best day ever. Then he had managed to talk, ask, his voice was a little raspy.

“You… you like his puns?” Luka had scooted closer to him, smirking a little.

“It’s our little secret.” With that he had put a hand around his shoulders, bringing him closer to him. The blonde had abandoned himself into the embrace, trying to hide the giddy smile in his chest.

It got easier to let himself go from that moment forward, knowing that at least some parts of Chat Noir Luka didn’t mind at all. Having Nino groaning like mad after they had all taken their matchmaker ice creams from Andre, with Adrien coming out with a “I scream for an ice cream”, had been worth it just to see the guitarist rolling his eyes with an endeared smile. It had felt good. He couldn’t fully let go, being a model and famous and all that baloney, but he could stop pretending for a moment and embrace a little bit more about himself.

It had hit him much later that perhaps, maybe, possibly, the matter of telling Luka about his superhero identity was meant to come up at some point. It hadn’t seemed an important matter before, he was not supposed to do reveal it anyway according to Ladybug. Then again, this wasn’t a relationship behind masks like that one, it was as open as it could be. Also Plagg wasn’t exactly the biggest fan or rules anyway, he had doubted he would have minded. Hearing Luka talking about his latest adventure with Viperion, basically summarizing everything Adrien already knew from his point of view, made him feel a bit guilty about not coming clean. Still, it was hard to recall that unpleasantness with Luka always ending the discussion making a comment about Chat Noir, probably catching up over the fact that Adrien was also a ‘fan’. Knowing that such a charming boy like Luka considered his pun machine alter ego attractive, stating that the only blondie with green eyes as handsome he knew was Adrien, was definitely a good way to end the day.

Then, that had happened. Apparently, Hawk Moth had thought that the idea of unleashing once again Gorizilla over the powerless city of Paris was a hilarious idea. It had taken them forever to calm him down, the bodyguard had been all agitated since there had been no sign of his protegee – at least for what he knew. Cataclysm, Lucky Charm, Miraculous Ladybug, the script was old and overused and after the most tired pound it ever Adrien had called it a day, sinking into his own bed as soon as he had been home.

The unconscious was a calming place, a pleasant one, just like Luka.

Just like Luka… Luka… the date.

Out of pure will and terror he had managed to get on his feet, realizing with horror that not only he hadn’t just fallen asleep, but he was also late. Two. Hours. Late. Dread didn’t describe properly the feeling that had taken over. Begging a very annoyed looking Plagg he had launched himself into the night sky, running on all four out of pure despair. When he had arrived at the restaurant, miserably closed, Luka was leaning over the wall of the entrance that was off, humming a very mellow, very melancholic melody. And he had dressed up, for once in his life wearing something classy, a white dress shirt and a black jacket without sleeves. His hair had grown a bit in those months, enough for him to pull a little ponytail.

What a waste, Adrien had thought. What a waste on someone like him, this beautiful person lightening up as soon as he was there, running to hug him, saying that he knew there had been an akuma today and he was happy to see he was okay. Except he wasn’t, this wasn’t, it was not okay. He was taking advantage of his position, the fact that there was stuff he was keeping for himself. It wasn’t fair for himself, most importantly it wasn’t fair for him.

“And you’re okay with this?” He didn’t know what he had been implying with those words, he had felt the need to get them out. To be heard. Because Luka always listened.

The guitarist had given him a weird, aware look, holding up his hands.

“I am if you are.” Unfair. Unfair. Unfair. Nothing but that feeling of guilt had filled his heart, and Adrien had rushed in, hugging him as closely as he could. Luka had embraced back, caressing his back slowly and gently as it was his way of being, telling him that they could postpone on a day with a less dangerous akuma terrorizing the city. Adrien had kept his eyes shut, choking silent sobs against his jacket. Thinking that maybe it was okay, maybe they could still keep going like this. H was scared, besides there was no need to change anything, or even better there was no need to say something that wasn’t needed. This was enough, this could be enough.

Adrien had then opened his eyes, only to feel them pinching. From the window of the restaurant, he could see the lonely white table with two dishes and two glasses, and all around… were candles and roses. Luke remembered. He had remembered the mention of the romantic gesture the blonde had done for a girl that hadn’t gone as planned. He had remembered how Adrien had always wished for something like that for himself. He knew how much of a hopeless romantic he was. Luka knew him.

At the same time, he didn’t. He didn’t know him. It was not okay.

It was not okay, and it was not enough.

Mirror sessions were back after that, more frantic than ever but less frequent than he would have liked – he was dense he could admit, not enough to proclaim to his father or Nathalie that he was Chat Noir while in the shower. He had wished it was like preparing for a shooting, or even imagining to be an actor like mom was. The tension was nothing like. The number of warnings coming from all directions was massive, starting from how once again his friends were getting worried about him – he wasn’t going to resist the bribe of chocolate chip cookies for long –, how Ladybug had expressively told him no one was supposed to know about their real identities, how there was no telling how Luka was going to react over the fact that his date was the cat boy with whom sometimes he fought crime with – man that was a weird line to say out loud. He had found it hard to sleep, too tense to get lost into his dreams, questioning his decision all night long.

One night, after a particularly harsh internal battle between him himself and he, he had rolled over a little too much forgetting about his poor little cheese-eating friend. He had been on his way to apologize to the squished kwami, but with a single firm gesture coming from his tiny arm Plagg had gotten him to shut up, eyes widened and extremely pissed.

“You’re telling him.” His eyelid had twitched a little. Right, he had kept him awake as well. “I don’t care what Ladybug says, I don’t care what Tikki says, you’re telling him.”

“Huh, okay?”

“It’s not a question Adrien, it’s an order. Do it or else you won’t find Atlantis that much of a natural disaster.” Wasn’t for experience he would have doubted that this tiny guy was able of much. Good thing he did have precedents, so Adrien had opted to nod and lay down once again. Following orders was still pretty normal for him anyway. “… besides…” Plagg had scooted closer to him, nudging against his shoulder while closing his eyes. “No secret is worth taking away your happiness, kid.” Adrien had found no problem sleeping from then on.

At last, after a bit more of self-convincing, it had all come down on the matter of when. Adrien wasn’t exactly sure if the news was particularly good or bad, consequentially he had no idea if the reveal had to be organized during a joyful or tense situation. Was a date a good idea? Or was it better to simply invite him over, or go to his house and talk? Luka was a great listener, but he didn’t always like to talk much, maybe he was going to feel pressured in the second case. He communicated better with songs… but writing a jingle about how he was a superhero in a leather suit with a ring that could pulverize the Tour Eiffel didn’t sound like a hit – maybe… or maybe it was, he had to ask Luka later if the matter was going to be solved. After so much time pondering, he had been left with nothing concrete, no ideas. He couldn’t ask his friends, nor Ladybug. Maybe this was a bad decision after all – never mind Plagg that was still glaring.

He had been trying to focus on his Chinese homework all afternoon, his mind running miles with him unable to make it stop. Then his phone had lightened up, a welcomed distraction that had blossomed into absolute delight at reading the sender’s name. Despite the migraine coming along with the situation, it was all worth it just for a chance to be with him.

Melody: Hey Sunshine

Melody: If I remember right you’re free tomorrow

Melody: Do you want to come over?

Me: Of course I do :)

Me: My schedule ends early afternoon

Me: Is the evening okay?

Melody: Perfect

Melody: Dress nice, it’s a date

Melody: A special one, for a special day

Me: Why? What’s tomorrow?

Melody: Wanna guess?

Me: …

Me: Thursday?

Melody: Ahah, well also

Melody: But also exactly one year since the Music Festival

Melody: It’s the day you and I met

Somehow while melting into an absolute puddle of tears and adoring whines, Adrien had realized that this guy was too wonderful. In his heart the last thing he wanted to do was ruining something good, especially a night Luka had prepared for him. But this wasn’t about himself anymore, this was about giving him what he deserved. Hopefully they were going to have a date still after this.

Hopefully. Adrien had tried to forget about that eventuality, at least enough to finish his homework. It had taken him a while to fall asleep that night – Plagg had simply whispered “thin ice” in a very grumpy tone.

The next day he had used all his experience as a model to look his best, raised two thumbs up at his mirror, and headed out. He had begged his bodyguard to leave him alone on this one and the big guy had actually agreed, somehow seeing his seriousness and commitment more than his father – granted that the bar was pretty low on that one. The path leading to the Liberty was not exactly short from his house, yet he had felt the absolute need to rethink everything. Perhaps to find it in himself the strength to blame himself for wanting to come clean only now. It had been a year, a year since he had met Luka. He had changed so much, his thoughts, his world, himself. He was there to make just another change and take control, it was terrifying and exciting…

…

… and there he was.

When he saw the Liberty, his stomach did that fluttering again. Pure tension and longing mixed together, because this was about him and it was making him grow terrified; but this was about him, and he loved everything that involved him. The sight of the ship covered in aromatic candles and roses with the table prepared on the bridge, the most romantic place once again, should had not surprised him after all. He still had to close his eyes for a moment to recollect himself.

Luka was waiting on the dock, smiling at him. It was such a lovely view, and when he extended his hand towards him it turned into the perfect view.

“You look amazing. You’re ready?”

He was. He finally was. Adrien sighed, shaking his head.

“I have to tell you something first.” Huh, something was wrong. The guitarist had changed expression, he looked so confused and hurt all of the su- wait. “Ah! No! Not that kind of ‘I have to tell you something’, an actual ‘I have to tell you something’!” He had practiced this moment for so long, how was it possible he had never noticed how off it sounded? Luka let out a nervous laugh. Ah, his hands were sweating already, where was Chat Noir’s confidence when he needed it? “I really need to get this out of my chest.”

“Oh, okay. I’m listening.”

“And if afterwards you have doubts about…” He didn’t like it, but he needed to state it as it was. “… all of this, I’ll understand.” He was in. He was doing it. No turning back. That most likely didn’t sit right with Luka, he wasn’t looking any less distressed.

He reached for him, grabbing one of his hand for comfort. Even though he didn’t understand, he was still doing his best to be there. Gosh, Adrien loved him, so much.

“Don’t jump to conclusions, tell me what it is and then we can talk about it.” He looked for communication in his relationships, he had told him from the start and even before, during the times they used to talk about anything and everything, waiting for the sun to set behind the bridge over the Seine. The blonde hoped they were going to talk too.

He closed his eyes again, took the deepest breath in his life, and nodded.

“It might sound crazy, but please listen to me and believe me.” Luka nodded immediately. “I…” He had composed a whole speech about how much these last months had been amazing, how he was sorry that he had kept quiet over something important for so long, and how he hoped that they could still try and be together for real. A convincing discussion slowly leading to the reveal. “… I’m Chat Noir, and I love you.” Out of all of that he had taken seven words max and blurted them out without a single thought in his head.

The cat was out of the bag, classic cat superhero style. If only that knowledge wasn’t making him feel worse. He was tense, sweating, completely still, waiting for his judgement. Every second was turning into a minute then an hour then it was getting lost into his own misty head.

It was warm outside, even at that hour.

Those long fingers clenched around his hand.

Adrien looked up. Luka was smiling tearfully at him, his blue eyes were mesmerizing. He laughed happily, then he reached for his cheek. Heartbeats echoed into the blonde’s head as he got closer, eyes narrowed but still open as to catch any kind of rejection. It hit him very very slowly that this was actually true, this out of world fantasy was not a fruit of his messed up imagination, and the moment the realization took over Adrien closed the distance between them. Wow. Luka kissed nothing like he would have expected. His hand on his cheek was careful and gentle like him, but his lips were caressing his with want and passion, like they had lost all the patience behind the moment they had met in electric need. Closeness was something Adrien had missed for such a long time and could never get enough of. Luka’s closeness was whole, real, his. He reached for his jacket, just to hold onto something and have another proof that this was happening.

They parted, and then got closer, kissing again and again, happily trapped into a bubble in which time and space couldn’t reach them. When they back away with trembling breaths, Adrien felt his lips getting immediately cold and couldn’t help himself as he reached for one last peck. Luka laughed into it, pressing back then leaning his forehead over his. There was an amount of sweetness into those eyes that it made the blonde want to look away, his sight getting all blurry.

“I love you too.” His hand was still over his face. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

The answer was the clearest of his life. It was screaming from the bottom of his stomach, it was highlighted in neon in the middle of his brain. He was almost tempted to tackle him to the ground and let his actions speak for himself – alright he needed to chill for a moment –, then confusion hit him. He… he said it, he had said it, right? He told him the truth about his identity. Then what was this lack of reaction? Where was the amazement, the fright, the confusion, even the anger? Adrien Agreste had just confessed he made a habit of running over the roofs of Paris in full cat cosplay and this was the reaction?

“I… you… what’s going on?” Luka giggled, probably still caught up with the latest nice mood. Maybe he didn’t believe the blonde, maybe he didn’t hear him at all. For a musician this talented it sounded farfetched to miss a sound, but you never knew. “I’m… I’m Chat Noir, Luka.”

The guitarist blinked, smile slowly decreasing but without disappearing.

“Yeah, I heard that.”

“As the superhero, Chat Noir.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

“Then why aren’t you saying anything about that?” A little shrug. The last thing he would have expected was this nonchalance. It was maddening. “I’m a superhero, I’m Chat Noir! Why aren’t you mad? You deserved to know! You should’ve known for a…” Suddenly the guitarist’s eyes were not as easy to find as before. Like they were hiding something. “… a… while…” Again, Adrien was extremely dense emotionally, and some things were harder to understand for him. But he wasn’t stupid, most important, he couldn’t ignore that little guilty grin of his taking over. “… you knew.” The pressure that had assaulted him for the last period disappeared completely, now there was only absolute shock. “You knew I was Chat Noir?!? What in the world, since when?!?”

The guitarist passed a hand over his neck, looking a little reluctant. It was a little weird of an emotion on him, on someone so on track with himself and proud of his persona. He took his hands, gently guiding him onto the bridge. That was one relief at least.

“To be honest, I was never completely sure. If you hadn’t told me I wouldn’t have known one hundred percent… but at some point I started to have my suspicions.” He led him near the rail, the moon was mirroring into the water of the Seine. His heart soared at the view. “It was the kind of thought you pay attention to only when something comes up, so I never actively tried to prove it was real.” He sounded relaxed. Perhaps he had made peace with it for a while.

Adrien nodded absently, feeling a weird limbo between relief that he wasn’t completely recognizable and that there were at least doubts in people’s minds.

“Okay, but there has to be a time when you started to think about it.”

“… there was a moment.” Once more Luka looked guilty, while smiling still. He looked at him, raising his hands. “Again, it was a doubt, not a certainty. I never actively knew for sure you were Chat Noir, okay?” The blonde frowned but nodded. “Well… remember the Desperada incident?”

He gaped, so strongly he almost chocked.

“You have a suspicion for months?!” Luka laughed a little, that managed to calm him down a little.

“An idea, a speculation, call it what you want. It got me and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” He leaned against the rail, looking pensive. “We were hiding in the lockers, and while I was in there I heard you opening and closing a locker… then opening and closing a door.” Holy Miraculous he was an idiot. “When I found you with Ladybug in the sewer you left, and I got the snake Miraculous. Right after that Chat Noir was back.” He grinned, eyes lightening up. “From that moment the possibility has never really left my mind, and nothing has happened that made me think it couldn’t be real.” Of course not, Adrien was never around Chat Noir and Chat Noir was never around Adrien. It almost made sense – sure, ‘almost’.

Adrien took a few deep breaths, still recovering from that sudden reveal – a confession that did not go the way he would have expected. He looked at this guy who so calmly was taking everything in, a view that was calming like very few other things and, slowly, he smiled, joining him at admiring the Seine. He let his head fall onto his shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I was so worried about this.”

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t know what to do. On one hand I didn’t want it to be true, because it made me feel anxious whenever I looked at the news and saw another dangerous akuma.” He wrapped his arm around him protectively. It felt so nice. “On the other, it was kind of an endearing thought, that the two gorgeous blondes I knew just happened to be the same person.” Gosh he was going to die, this person did not hold back with compliments with either of them.

Speaking of…

“Wait, if you were thinking about it since back then… were you teasing me on purpose whenever you talked about Chat Noir in front of me?” Whoa, he had to take in the fact that this very zen guitarist was able to make such a suggestive smile. I made his entire face burn. “Oh my gosh.”

“You were always blushing whenever I did it, I couldn’t help myself.”

“For real??”

“It was too adorable. At that point either you were really him or you found him attractive as well… which I would’ve understood.”

“Stooop!!” Adrien covered his eyes, his heart bursting out of his chest, laughing out what was left of his fear. “… you really don’t care? I’m the one who asked you out, not Chat Noir.” A bit a sadness made him step away just a little. “And people like me better when I’m not him…”

“If people aren’t into you when you’re a blonde superhero with a sexy catsuit, maybes there’s something wrong with them. I suggest blindness.” It got him to laugh. Luka brought him closer, arms around him. “Besides, there aren’t two people here. You are Adrien, and you are Chat Noir. Being a superhero is a part of you. And I love it, because it makes you… you.” Truly sincerity was his biggest quality. Adrien didn’t doubt a word that had come out of his mouth. He leaned his head into the crook of his shoulder.

“Are you sure?” Luka nodded, his hair tickling his cheek.

Then he pulled away. He put a finger under his chin, raising it up. Their eyes met. There was such a calm, comfortable world behind those blue globes. It made him want to never leave.

“You’re a rare symphony, Adrien Agreste, one that had been kept hidden for far too long. I wanna hear that song, your soul, finally free to be heard. I want to know its beauty, because the echo alone is astonishing.” He knew him. He knew all of him. “The kind and selfless to a fault, the professional and determinate model, the mischievous and enchanting superhero, these are all notes that play in your life, that make your life. And I wanna be part of that song, if you will let me.” He pressed another, shorter kiss on his lips, as to seal this moment forever into his body, forever into his heart.

There was no way Adrien would have been able to stop tears. Luka gulped. The blonde smiled, a horribly wide, unsophisticated curve that would have made all of his photographers shudder at the same time. Perhaps that was why it felt so immensely good.

“You… y-you’re not allowed to say you’re not good with words after this.”

The guitarist laughed, relieved, holding him closer.

“It’s a yes then, Sunshine?” Adrien smiled, reaching forward again, thinking that there was no imaginary world of his able to replicate this.

“It’s a yes, Melody.”

This was pure, unparalleled, wholesome reality.

[royalpain16]

A Brief History of Princess Diana’s Fiery Family

HADLEY HALL MEARES

JUNE 29, 2021 4:04 PM

According to Tina Brown’s The Diana Chronicles. Indeed, the role of the aristocratic family of Diana, Princess of Wales, for centuries has been that of royal disrupter. This legacy stretches to the 14th century, with their disputed ancestor Hugh Despenser’s alleged torrid affair with King Edward II and Despenser’s eventual brutal execution. Clever, charming, and fiery, much like Diana, her ancestors learned how to play the royal game—and then ripped up the rule book.

“Nearly 300 years on, my father would talk about him with an ashamed, resigned chuckle,” Charles, Earl Spencer, writes in The Spencers: A Personal History of an English Family of the mercurial family blackguard Robert Spencer (1641-1702). While the second earl would secure the Spencers’ status as political power players for centuries, he was also “cunning, supple [and] shameless” with “a restless and mischievous temper, a cold heart, and an abject spirt.”

Sunderland’s ascendancy began in the 1670s when he orchestrated King Charles II’s secret pact with England’s traditional enemy, France. Securing large payments from the French king and court for Charles II and himself, Sunderland was rewarded when he was appointed secretary of state.

After double-crossing Charles II’s illegitimate son, the Duke of Monmouth, Sunderland cleverly insinuated himself with new King James II. He converted to Catholicism to appeal to the very Catholic king, and became one of James II’s closest advisers. But the king, though he valued the brilliant man’s diplomatic skills, was fully aware of Sunderland’s duplicity.

James II finally dismissed Sunderland from service in 1688, and he was later exiled. But in December of that year, James II was deposed by the Glorious Revolution, bringing his daughter Mary and her husband, William, Prince of Orange, (with whom Sunderland had conspired) to the throne.

Again in favor, he was rewarded with the post of Lord Chamberlain before retiring from public life in 1697. “Too much cannot be said of his talents,” one historian noted. “Nor too little of his principles.”

The Boss: Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough

The daughter of Parliamentarian Richard Jennings and his scandalous wife, Frances, the passionate, brilliant Sarah (1660-1744) started out as a maid of honor in the court of James II. She became the most powerful woman in England, through her magnetic control of the future Queen Anne, a comparative dullard who worshipped her and perhaps became her lover. (You may remember their relationship from the 2018 movie The Favourite, in which Rachel Weisz played Sarah.)

For Sarah, her friendship with Anne was a way to advance her family and her liberal Whig politics, which she shared with her equally powerful husband, the military hero the Duke of Marlborough. “I hated tyranny by nature,” she wrote in one version of her memoir, according to Ophelia Field’s The Favourite: The Life of Sarah Churchill. “I thought mankind was born free, & if Princes were ordained to make their subjects happy; so I had always in me an invincible aversion to slavery, & to flattery.”

In 1700, Sarah arranged the marriage of her distant relation Charles Spencer, the future Third Earl of Sunderland, with her favorite daughter, Anne. Over the next 44 years, she would shape the family fortunes—and gift them with their famed auburn-tinted locks.

According to The Favourite: The Life of Sarah Churchill, with Anne’s accession to the throne in 1702 Sarah reached the peak of her power, racking up virtually every important post in Queen Anne’s suite, dictating cabinet appointments, and encouraging the ire of satirists.

But cracks would soon begin to appear. Queen Anne was naturally inclined to support the royalist Tories and was encouraged in these leanings by a new favorite named Abigail. A vindictive Sarah became a master propagandist, leaking insinuations about their relationship to the press, and allegedly threatening to blackmail Anne over the contents of their highly charged correspondence.

Sarah was finally forced to vacate her royal apartments in 1711, but she was not down for the count. A brilliant businesswoman, she became the richest woman in England, according to Field, controlling her Spencer grandchildren with promises of money and power. Centuries before the modern Diana and Prince Charles wed, Sarah even attempted to marry her favorite granddaughter—Lady Diana Spencer—to the broke Frederick, Prince of Wales, with a promise of 100,000-pound dowry. The plan fell through.

But not all her grandchildren were willing to be manipulated by their formidable matriarch. Sarah claimed her equally tough granddaughter Anne “[deserved] to be burnt,” and she disinherited her grandson Charles, Fifth Earl of Sunderland, which prompted him to write her:

As for putting me out of your will…I neither expected or desired to be in it. I…assure Your Grace that this is the last time I shall ever trouble you by letter or conversation. I am Your Grace’s grandson, Sunderland.

Sarah’s letter back was brutal. “You end that you are my grandson. Which is indeed a very melancholy truth…had you not been my grandson, you would have been in as bad a condition as you deserve to be.” Fitting words from a woman immortalized by Alexander Pope thusly:

Sixty years the World has been her Trade, The wisest Fool much Time has ever made. From loveless youth to unrespected age, No Passion gratify’d except her Rage.

The Star: Georgiana Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire

From the start there was something special about Georgiana (1757-1806), the coddled daughter of John, First Earl Spencer and his wife, Margaret. The captivating teenager married the sophisticated William, Duke of Devonshire, in 1774, and quickly became a sensation in London’s highest circles. “[The Duchess of Devonshire] effaces all,” Horace Walpole wrote, according to The Devonshires: The Story of a Family and a Nation. “Her youth, figure, flowing good nature, sense…and modest familiarity, make her a phenomenon.”

Georgiana soon found her cold, older husband was not nearly as interested in her as everyone else. Luckily, she had many talents with which to amuse herself. She set fashions of the day, developed her own haughty way of speaking, known as the “Cavendish drawl,” and became dear friends with Marie Antoinette, according to Amanda Foreman’s The Duchess. She was also a successful novelist, and an amateur scientist.

But it was Georgiana’s brilliance as a Whig operative that would turn her into a target of the press. Constantly brainstorming with her friend, George, Prince of Wales, and political soulmate Charles James Fox, she hosted countless summits at her home. Georgiana was, she later wrote, “in the midst of the action,” seeing

“partys rise and fall—friends be united and disunited—the ties of love give way to caprice, to interest, and to vanity…”

Georgiana also worked essentially as a campaign manager for Whig candidates. During the 1784 election she bravely canvassed the street for Fox, charming Londoners with her common touch. “During her canvass,” Walpole wrote, “the Duchess made no scruple of visiting some of the humblest of electors, dazzling and enchanting them by the fascination of her manner, the power of her beauty and the influence of her high rank.”

According to Foreman’s The Duchess, there were rumors Georgiana kissed men in exchange for votes, leading to scurrilous cartoons distributed by the Tory opposition. “You have almost unavoidably amassed a great deal of useless trash—gathered weeds instead of flowers,” Lady Spencer wrote Georgiana. “You live so constantly in public you cannot live for your own soul.”

Her mother was worried about more than bad press. The hard-partying Georgiana was one of a long line of Spencer gambling addicts. She also had a laudanum dependency, and a scandalous ménage à trois arrangement with her husband and the disreputable Bess Foster. Calamity struck in 1792, when Georgiana became pregnant by the future Prime Minister Charles Grey and was banished from the country for a while.

Georgiana returned to her husband and children two years later. For the remainder of her life she battled ill health, but continued her role as a political operative, aware of what she could have been. “Would I were a man,” she mused to Sir Philip Francis. “To unite my talents, my hopes, my fortune, with [Charles James Fox’s], to make common cause, and fall or rule.”

From the start, the Spencer legacy laid heavily on John Spencer’s (1924-1992)

shoulders. As a child he was constantly cowed by his genealogically obsessed, brutal father, who considered him an intellectual lightweight. “He used to dread the train journey home [from boarding school],” his son, Diana’s brother Charles, writes. “He would hide in shadows of the train carriage, hoping his father had forgotten to collect him.”

But by the 1940s, John’s heroism as a captain in the Royal Scots Greys during World War II, and his tall, good looks and simple charm made him a most eligible bachelor. According to the documentary When the Spencers Met the Monarchy, he was even once looked at by the palace as a suitor to the future Queen Elizabeth II.

Instead, in 1954, Queen Elizabeth II (whom he served as an equerry) attended his wedding to heiress Frances Roche at Westminster Abbey. The couple had four children—Sarah, Jane, Diana, and Charles (another son, John, died shortly after birth). They were a mismatched pair, he rather dull and she vivacious, but John was reportedly blindsided when he discovered Frances was cheating on him. “How many of those years were happy?” he later said of his marriage. “I thought all of them until the moment that we parted.”

After the dissolution of his marriage, John became Diana and Charles’s primary caregiver and developed what Lord Glenconner once termed “an unfortunate raw sausage look.” Although he was stiff and old-fashioned, he attempted to be an involved father, and Diana was determined to be his “comforting angel,” according to The Diana Chronicles.

In 1975, John’s fortunes turned when his curmudgeonly father died, making him the Eighth Earl Spencer. According to Andrew Morton, he also inherited a 2.25-million-pound bill for death duties as well as 80,000-pounds-a-year running costs for Althorp, the family estate in Northamptonshire. He also found a helpmate to run Althorp in the fascinating Raine, Countess of Dartmouth, whom he married in 1976 without even telling his children. “We weren’t invited. ‘Not grand enough,’” his daughter Sarah quipped to a reporter at the time.

Despite the flippant tone, John’s betrayal would cause a deep rift in the family. A severe stroke in 1978 caused him to become frail and even more distant from his children. “He was one person before and he was certainly a different person after,” Princess Diana said, according to Morton. “He’s remained estranged but adoring since. If he comes and sees me he comes and sees me, if he doesn’t he doesn’t. It’s not my problem anymore. It’s his.”

The Rebel: Frances Shand Kydd

Frances Ruth Roche (1936-2004) wasn’t from as noble stock as the Spencers, but her family was far richer. Her father Maurice, fourth Baron Fermoy, was a conservative politician and a “terrible bottom pincher,” Lady Glenconner says in The Diana Chronicles, while her wealthy mother, Ruth, was a scheming, incurable snob and great friend of Elizabeth, the Queen Mother.

It was Ruth who encouraged a teenage Frances to marry the much older John Spencer, despite her tender age. “When you meet someone at the age of 15 and get engaged just five months out of school at 17, you can look back and ask, ‘Was I adult?’” she asked years later. “I sure thought I was at the time.”

The couple cultivated a farm at her family home of Park House in Norfolk, but Frances was quickly disillusioned with life in the country as a young aristocratic mother. “I’m so bloody bored with opening village fetes,” she told a friend. It was no wonder that the fiery Frances wanted more. “She was very attractive and blonde and sexy with such joie de vivre and fun about her,” a friend told Brown, author of The Diana Chronicles.

By the 1960s, Frances escaped to London more and more. She also started having an affair with a married bon vivant named Peter Shand Kydd. In 1967, she separated from John and left her two youngest children with him. “The biggest disruption was when Mummy decided to leg it. That’s the vivid memory we have—the four of us,” Princess Diana later told Andrew Morton.

Frances fought for custody of the children but lost to John, partially due to her own mother, Baroness Fermoy, who testified against her. Social outcasts, the Shand Kydds eventually moved to the coast of Scotland, and their warm household was a refuge for her children when they were allowed to visit. “Diana and I adored it for its wild beauty and the fun we had on the sea, lobster potting and mackerel-fishing,” Charles Spencer recalls.

Frances counseled against her youngest daughter’s marriage to Prince Charles, seeing too many parallels to her own first marriage—including her mother’s encouragement of the match. According to Brown, after voicing her concerns, Diana said, “Mummy, you don’t understand. I love him.” Frances replied, “Love him, or love what he is?” To which Diana asked rhetorically, “What’s the difference?”

The Grande Dames: Barbara Cartland and Raine Spencer

Perhaps no writer influenced generations of British romantics—including Princess Diana—more than Barbara Cartland (1901-2000). The author of 723 books, Cartland had, in the words of Brown, a “penchant for pink, her meringue coiffure and false eyelashes,” which betrayed a steely, snobbish character that was tough as nails.

Cartland would pass both her strength and outrageousness on to her daughter Raine (1929-2016), whom she raised to be, in Brown’s words, a “social monster baby.” Not only did she nab Gerald Legge, Ninth Earl of Dartmouth, but she also forged a career as a conservative politician, becoming the youngest person to ever serve on the Westminster City Council.

“She never took any prisoners, and never took no for an answer,” a friend recalled.

In the early 1970s, Raine set her sights on the divorced John Spencer. “She wanted to marry Daddy; that was her target and that was it,” Princess Diana recalled. According to sources, “Acid Raine” alienated the children and old friends. She also took the reins of Althorp, allegedly selling off family treasures and decorating it in her and her mother’s garish style.

During the lead-up to Diana’s wedding to Prince Charles in 1981, what to do with the clownish Cartlands became a national conversation. According to Brown:

Alexander Chancellor, the editor of The Spectator, wrote an editorial in which he called for a special Act of Parliament to ban Raine and her mother from St. Paul’s Cathedral, adding, “For it would be more than a little unfair on everybody if these two absurdly theatrical ladies were permitted to turn a moving national celebration into a pantomime.” Diana was so afraid the pantomime might indeed take place, she pressed for stratagems to blackball Cartland.

In the end Raine was invited but her mother was not. This would not be the most awkward Spencer wedding—that prize would go to Charles Spencer’s first wedding in 1989, where Diana scolded Raine for her rudeness to their mother. “If only you knew how much we all hated you for what you’ve done, you’ve ruined the house, you spend Daddy’s money and what for?” she hissed.

For her part, Raine would tire of being the scapegoat for the Spencer dysfunction. “I’m absolutely sick of the ‘wicked stepmother’ lark,” she said, according to Kitty Kelley. “You’re never going to make me sound like a human being, because people like to think I’m Dracula’s mother.”

Surprisingly, Diana would come to agree. Toward the end of her life, she grew close to her stepmother, whose no-nonsense advice she came to admire. However, it appears there was no love lost between Diana and her former favorite writer, who would quip of the royal breakup, “Of course, you know where it all went wrong. She wouldn’t do oral sex.”

The Role Model: Lady Sarah McCorquodale

Born in 1955, Sarah Spencer was the oldest, and wildest of John and Frances Spencer’s brood. Reckless and salty from an early age, Brown writes that she was kicked out of boarding school and rode her horse into her grandmother’s living room. “Sarah always had to be the best at everything,” a friend recalled. “The best car, the wittiest put-down, and the best dress.”

She also had a constant shadow in her youngest sister, Diana. “I idolized my eldest sister and I used to do all her washing when she came back from school. I packed her suitcase, ran her bath, made her bed—the whole lot. I did it all and I thought it was wonderful,” Diana told Morton.

In 1977, Sarah, who had suffered from anorexia, according to Brown, met Prince Charles at Ascot. The two began dating, and it was Sarah who introduced Diana to the prince during a shooting party at Althorp (“I’m cupid,” she’d later quip). “I remember,” Diana later said, “feeling desperately sorry for him that my sister was wrapped around his neck because she’s quite a tough old thing.”

But Sarah’s romance with the prince would soon end. She made the mistake of talking to reporters. Not only did she reportedly confess to having “thousands of boyfriends,” she also disparaged Charles as a hopeless romantic. “I wouldn’t marry a man I didn’t love, whether it was a dustman or the King of England,” she said. “If he asked me I would turn him down.”

This cardinal sin would cause Sarah to be promptly frozen out, with Charles reportedly informing her, “You’ve just done something extremely stupid.” And so, only three years later Charles would begin to court the blossoming Diana. Perhaps there was a hint of jealousy in her alleged counsel to a despondent Diana to not pull out of the wedding over his relationship with Camilla: “Bad luck, ‘Duch. Your face is on the tea towels so you’re too late to chicken out.”